I love the title SAIL Magazine Editor, Wendy Clarke, came up with for this one. And, please join me in congratulating Wendy on the fantastic job she has done “manning the helm” at SAIL over the course of the last year. She has brought a lot of creative energy and foresight to the magazine. I really enjoyed collaborating with Wendy on this piece, and I’m honored to be included again in the magazine. The incident that led me to write this piece was quite a shocking and frightful event. You never know when an emergency will happen, so it’s best to keep the rust off so that your reactions are more “muscle memory” in the moment, than panicked, frantic responses. Wendy and I, and the whole team at SAIL, are hopeful this will encourage more boaters and cruisers to become more familiar and comfortable using the VHF radio so we can all stay safe out there and—when the time comes—perhaps save a life or two. I hope you enjoy the piece featured in the May issue of SAIL Magazine: Radio Active!
It was one of the most somber days I can remember while cruising on Ubi this past summer. September 1, 2023. Having had our fill with family visits and holiday shenanigans in Newport, Phillip and I were actually in Sag Harbor when we heard the news.
Of all the places to drop anchor and find ourselves on that day. We had landed in one of the places Jimmy called home when the news stunned us. The fun-loving, salty philosopher/poet many of us have looked up to, listened to, loved, whose quirky, candid rhymes in ¾ time accompany dozens of our memories … had left us. The Great Jimmy Buffett had passed away. We heard his songs playing everywhere in Sag Harbor that day. Margaritas were ordered all around and drank in solidarity. I don’t think Jimmy can ever possibly know how many lives he touched, including ours. How many people—as Phillip and I, and many of our coastal and cruising friends do—harbor exceptionally vivid memories wove intrinsically into his songs and lyrics.
While very few can say they actually knew Jimmy—although we have two very special cruising friends who can—I felt like I knew his spirit. I appreciated his humility and wisdom. His humor. His I-don’t-take-myself-too-seriously personality (even though he was a savvy businessman and multi-billionaire). Personally, I like a man in hushpuppies. Our good friends, John and Jody Horner, whom we’ve sailed with on their elegant Sabre 42, Hula Girl, were friends with Jimmy’s sister, Lulu, and they shared several memories with us over the years that came to my mind that day. Good times on Hula Girl:
September 1, 2023. Sailing in Sag Harbor at that time really resurrected Jimmy all around us. As we made our way to new cruising grounds to us—although they were old hat to Jimmy: Shelter Island, Greenport, and the like—five cruising lessons, grown out of the lyrics of one of the greatest songwriters of our time, came to mind.
Come Monday is probably one of my top three favorite Jimmy Buffett songs. I mean, no one can really pick just one favorite. But, Monday always felt like one of the more deeply personal, sentimental songs of his. And, I can relate to the feeling of not being glitzy enough, of doubting myself or someone else’s feelings for, or confidence in, me (not to mention confidence in myself), but then being unsettled by the discovery that my need—for a person or place or status—had grown on me without me knowing and, without my realizing it, had become “that much a part of me now.” To the point that it can be a little scary to learn how much you need something you perhaps didn’t think you did.
Life on a boat feels that way to me: fighting the daily frustrations and pitting our patience and obstinance against the elements, all to savor those rare, stupid, magical moments that are so majestic they can’t be replicated in an easy, uneventful life. I grew up a supreme Tomboy, a cowgirl, farm hand, regular ole’ redneck poor kid, who then tried to change or hide all that under a spiffy law degree, big salary, and fancy high heels and striped suits.
News flash. It didn’t work. To the point that, I found on mine and Phillip’s first offshore voyage—when everything went to shit and I was able to save the day with a hacksaw—I had been missing something in my life. Me. The hushpuppies me.
All of the gritty, never-give-up skills I had honed as a kid actually made me a pretty resourceful, durable cruiser. And, in cruising, I found the place where the real “me” shined, in hushpuppies, not high heels. I was never meant for glitter. Cruising—a.k.a. fixing our boat in exotic places—is just part of me now.
When I hear the first lyrics of this song, I am transported to a different place and time. I’m in the cockpit of mine and Phillip’s first boat—our beloved 1985 Niagara 35, Plaintiff’s Rest, where the two of us truly found one another and found a future between us (cruising the world on a small boat) that grew its own wings and soared. When Jimmy sings “Mother, Mother Ocean, I have heard your call,” I don’t even have to shut my eyes to see me and Phillip—salty and exhausted but exhilarated in the cockpit of our Niagara, shouting the lyrics into the wind as we bash through the last miles of our 5-day sail from Pensacola, Florida to Cuba.
We were only hours out when we played this song several times, knowing—even in the moment—we were creating a memory Phillip and I will probably both replay on our deathbeds. We had sailed to fucking Cuba?! You hear me? C.U.B.A.
But, as memorable as it was, our time there, including the epic sail, zipped by in a blur and it always reminds me of Jimmy’s lyric “I made enough money to buy Miami, but I pissed it away so fast. Never meant to last.” Not that we pissed any of our time in Cuba away, but I felt like I knew in the moment that it was temporary. Our time in Cuba was precisely so precious because it was temporary. It was never going to last. We would sail home and it would be a memory. But, damn, what a memory.
Okay, first, this is just one of my favorite Jimmy songs to sing. It’s so sing-songy. This, along with Man of Means, for reasons I can’t explain, are in my go-to repertoire of songs I like to sing when doing tedious boat chores like polishing the stainless or the never-ending wiping, swiping, and cleaning that keeps Ubi looking so impressive.
A clean boat is a happy boat. Jimmy has been with me often when I was shoved up in a boat hole, cleaning something. But, I also love the message of Pencil-Thin Mustache: Embrace Nostalgia, Jimmy is essentially saying. “Jump right up and show your age!” He says as he reminisces on being a “buck-toothed and skinny” kid. I mentioned my cowgirl, dirt-under-my-fingernails roots. But, there are so many things about my childhood that flood me with wonderful memories: romping my My Little Ponies around in the sleeper of my Dad’s big rig, building complicated LEGOs civilizations with my brother, John, making swings out of rope and flour sacks, roping bulls horns tied to hay bales. John and I never failed to find or make our own entertainment!
In Clovis, New Mexico (my primary home) one of the things I remember vividly was playing “high jump” in the backyard, as well as spending hours twirling around the skating rink. I fell a thousand times but finally learned how to skate backwards (although the spin-around element of that equation caused many a-crash). Couples skate gave me heartburn because the boys thought I was gross and smelly. I was. But, damn if I didn’t have a good time circling that rink on my flat skates with the big orange rubber stoppers. Those were the days.
Which is why I was beyond thrilled to find old friends and fellow cruisers whom we’d buddy sailed with from Block Island to Long Island—Peter and Patty on Outbound Hull No. 7, Serendipitous—were equally nostalgic for old-school flat skating.
Patty, actually, was so nostalgic that she hatched up a skate day for the four of us after we found a no-shit, legit old-school skating rink in Greenport, near Shelter Island—a little cruising gem that quickly became one of mine and Phillip’s favorite spots on the Long Island Sound. Patty even had the idea to dress up 80’s style and she killed it with a high pony and glow necklaces to boot.
That was an exceptionally nostalgic day. Afterwards, thankfully we’re all so old, we didn’t have to drink on fake I.D.s as Jimmy mentions in Mustache, but we all remember doing it.
I’ll admit, this is a new Jimmy Buffett song to me. It’s not one I sang during my college days in Alabama or any of my cruising years, but the reason it came into my life will make it resonate for the years I have left. Disclosure: Phillip and I lost someone very dear to us in 2023 and this song was chosen as one for the service. Now, Trip Around the Sun, will always remind me I’m still here, circling the sun, with every day granted to me as a gift. What struck me in the lyrics, though, was Jimmy’s resolve to just let go and enjoy the ride. He makes a resolution to make no more resolutions and just savor his trips around the sun. If that doesn’t fit with cruising, I don’t know what does.
Coming from someone who likes to control the things she can—my health (to the extent possible), my attitude, my commitment to surrounding myself with friends who bring me up and push toxic people out, and my undying desire to continue seeing and seeking new places, foods, and experiences—it’s nice to be reminded there are so many things we cannot control. And, when we stop trying to hang onto, and manhandle, those uncontrollable things into submission with white knuckles and, instead, just let them go and enjoy the ride, our trips around the sun are far more enjoyable. For those we lost in 2023 who will make no more trips around the sun: the rest of us will keep enjoying the ride in your honor and spirit.
Phillip has actually told me many times that lyric—“Ran into a chum with a bottle of rum, and we wound up drinking all night”—reminds him of his late Uncle Johnny, who really planted the seed for Phillip that grew into his love for sailing, cruising, and a life spent on the water. Phillip told me often about his Uncle Johnny and how many times he’d gone out with Johnny fishing, or for a sail, or a trip to Peg Leg Pete’s and didn’t come back for days. “Happened all the time,” Phillip will tell you and—lucky him—as just a young teenager Phillip got to chum around with Johnny, his Dad, and their cohorts as they ran into many chums with bottles of rum (although the “chum” was probably Johnny most of the time, convincing everyone else to stay out and drink with him, the wives bedamned).
Every time Phillip would tell me one of his Uncle Johnny stories, I was taken back in time to many crazy adventures and college parties spent with my own Dad, a former bull rider, diehard cowboy, and (let’s face it) hearty drinker in his day. Johnny sounded just like my Dad—a larger than life, honky-tonking hellraiser who knew exactly how to have a helluva good time. Some of my best memories resonate around a campfire with my Dad and his guitar-playing friends, sitting on cinder blocks, drinking, picking, and singing into the wee hours of the night.
That was living. I think the takeaway was to savor those crazy, wild nights as they’re part of the blurry ride around the sun that makes this unpredictable life worth living. Never turn down a chum with a bottle of rum.
We followed this lesson wholeheartedly in Greenport, with Peter and Patty, when we refused to turn down a spunky little gal (a chumette, perhaps?) with an entire arsenal of rum bottles. Peter and Patty had the great idea to check out this spirits distillery there in Greenport: Matchbook Distillery. I’m not sure there is a spirit Matchbook does not make—gin, vodka, brandy, sherry, rum, tequila, port wine, you name it. We ordered a flight thinking we would share it among the four of us, but Chumette had a different idea and poured us a flight of four (yes … FOUR?!) full-fledged cocktails … each, followed up by a small pour of anything else we wanted to taste.
Needless to say, the four of us got smashed by 2:00 p.m. and had a helluva time getting back to our boats. It was a wonderfully memorable day … what we remember of it, that is. And, another glorious lesson from The Man himself. Never turn down a good time with good friends. If rum’s included, all the better.
Here’s to you Jimmy and all the other salty souls we lost in 2023, and the many lessons they have installed in us all. Cheers! And R.I.P.
Next up on the blog, we make our way through New York and down to the Virginia to haul out at a new shipyard for us—Cobb’s in Little Creek, VA—for some good ole’ Ubi TLC. Time to pay our dues for all this fun!
I always think—after a horrendous event—that I should have taken more photos so I could share it better afterward. But, the truth is, photos and videos never do it justice. They never capture the breathtaking size of the waves, the surprising movements of such a heavy boat, or the sound of thousands of gallons of water being crushed under the boat’s hull. So, many times, I’m glad I only took what I took, if anything at all, and I just soaked in the moment. That way, afterward, I can relay it more effectively, or at least have a helluva time trying to, through my favorite medium: words.
June, 2023
After completing our list of spring boat repairs (and, let’s admit it, some fantastic upgrades – it’s all about balance!) in sunny Ft. Lauderdale in April and May of 2023, we had our sights set on New England. With the incredible summer we spent up there in 2022—our first in New England—we were eager to get back. Port Washington, Newport, Bristol,Cuttyhunk, Martha’s Vineyard, Block Island … they were all calling! We also wanted to get some good offshore time in as well as we’d been at the dock in Florida for several months. Ubi was ready to get sailing. It’s what she was built to do. We set our ambitions high. Why not, right? We’ve got the boat for it. Phillip and I started weather routing and planning for a trip straight from Ft. Lauderdale, FL to Newport, RI—roughly 1,000 nm. It would be our longest on Ubi to date, and we were really looking forward to logging that sea time on her.
We decided to bring in WRI Weather Routing, Inc. to assist. We had called on them before when we were planning to make our longest passage on the old boat, our 1985 Niagara 35, from Eleuthera, Bahamas down to the BVIs via the I-65 route. Unfortunately, we weren’t able to complete that trip due to an engine part failure, but that wasn’t WRI’s fault (heck, it wasn’t even the weather’s!). WRI did a fantastic job both in the planning and pre-departure phase of that ill-gotten voyage as well as the treacherous, becalmed return back, enough of a saga to warrant a write-up in SAIL Magazine.
With the goal of leaving just after my 41st birthday at the end of May, WRI found us a pretty decent window of weather to get north. They advised we had several days of east winds at 10-15 knots and seas less than 4ft (a nice forecast), but WRI expected a north front to start pushing down that might impact our conditions and force us to pull out of the Atlantic before making it all the way to Newport. If that occurred, Phillip and I had designated Charleston, SC as our most likely ditch location. Phillip and I decided to take it! We stocked the boat up and off we went.
For our first leg (as there was little wind in the Atlantic the first day), we decided to motor up the ICW from Ft. Lauderdale to West Palm Beach—a strip of the ICW we had never done before and it seemed like a fun day adventure, and a good way to get our first 50 nm behind us. It turned out to be a visually engaging run with lots to watch along the coast and neat bridges to pass through. It also gave us an excuse to enjoy the last of the Florida sunshine at Peanut Island – a favorite spot of ours.
The sunrise the following morning when we weighed anchor in West Palm Beach to head offshore also did not disappoint. Phillip and I took it as a good omen for our passage.
The first two and a half days went nicely, just as predicted, and we put an important 300 nm behind us. We had great winds that let us cruise comfortably upwind. We even made “porkchop pancakes” (or so Annie dubbed them) and really enjoyed the start of the passage.
However, just as WRI and we had predicted, the winds started to pick up and the conditions began to worsen in the Atlantic on the third day. Phillip and I are hearty sailors but we never choose to continue on in bad conditions if we can get Ubi and crew out of the mess and to safety. As much as we wanted to sail straight from Florida to Newport, we decided to pull out of the Atlantic and head into Charleston. However, we were still 100+ miles offshore, with the inlet to Charleston requiring another 3+ hours to navigate after we made it to the coast. Meaning, we were still roughly a full 24 hours from port and the conditions were only getting worse. We knew it was going to be a rough slog in. But, what we hadn’t foreseen was the nasty blob that was brewing off the South Carolina coast that afternoon.
ROUGH
As we pointed toward Charleston in the mid-afternoon, a shelf cloud started to appear on the horizon. It was a dense, deep blue wall building in front of us. At first it seemed like the storm was starting to move north and might miss us. But, it was still bringing us winds upwards of 20, then 23, then 25 knots forward of the beam with seas of 3-5 feet and building. That’s just not comfortable, no matter what boat you’re on. We reefed the main and jib and Ubi continued to beat into it. Then the rains set in, diminishing our visibility. It was difficult to tell if the ominous cloud was looming over us or pulling away. The winds increased to 27-28 and the storm stayed on us for an uncomfortable, dicey three hours. But, we were fine. Ubi was clipping along, pushing the water out of her way, although we were heeled and being tossed about a good bit. Phillip and I were relieved when we finally could see sky peeking through the horizon. This might be it, we thought. And, then the sun emerged. The storm eased its way north, but the wind did not stop. It continued to blow upwards of twenty into the evening as darkness set in and 18+ through the entire night with big lumpy seas that were knocking us around. We were making 9.5+ for most of it. Fast, but not fun. It was a long night.
You want to know what I was thinking about during my shifts that night (Phillip and I hold two-hour shifts during the night)? Sail trim? No. My next blog post? No. My mind was full of one thing, and one thing only. BBQ. That’s right. I was a straight up meathead out there. Charleston has some incredible BBQ. There’s one spot in particular that Phillip and I found last year that we were super excited to get again: Lewis BBQ. We steered Ubi to keep the wind upwards of 40 degrees off her starboard bow. While Ubi beat into some pretty thick seas that night, I was day(night?)dreaming about brisket, and pulled pork, and short ribs, and cornbread, and collard greens, and … Lewis really got me through. Drained and beat, Phillip and I were super relieved when we pulled into the Cooper River in Charleston the following day and made our way toward our anchorage by the Yorktown. We finally dropped the hook around 4:00 p.m. after a three-day passage, and—after the obligatory shower and cocktail in the cockpit—I’m pretty sure we both passed out mid-movie around 8:00 p.m. that night. Post-passage is the best sleep.
It wasn’t a fun passage, but not all of them are. It’s the lessons and accomplishments you take away and the adventurous, unforgettable moments that make all passages worth it. Not to mention the destination. Charleston is brimming with a vibrant history, succulent food, and a great music/arts scene. And, of course, Lewis BBQ, which did not disappoint … again!
CALM
From Charleston we made it around Frying Pan Shoals to Beaufort, NC in another day and a half passage. In a staunch contrast to our last passage, there was very little wind, and we had to motor-sail and mostly motor the entire way. It’s not our favorite way to move the boat, but as long as our boat is happily moving, it’s our favorite way to get anywhere. She has an 80 horse-power engine for a reason. And, what was our reward for surviving our beatdown into Charleston and continuing toward our New England destination? DOLPHINS! Yes, I squeal every time. If I don’t squeal when dolphins arrive, assume I’m dead. We really got a fun private show out there on our way into Beaufort, NC.
Beaufort also offered an unexpected live band downtown the evening we were there which was a real treat, with most of the locals (and their super cute dogs) coming out for the festivities. At the advice of fellow cruisers (shout-out to Peter and Patty on Outbound 44, Hull No. 7, Serendipitous!), we sauntered across the bridge and enjoyed a decadent, sunset meal at City Kitchen (a new place for us) that was really impressive.
I also love the chance to see the wild horses across the way on Shackleford Banks. I also squeal at horses. Dates back to my Alabama roots. Have you met me?
We had also never stopped at Cape Lookout before but had heard great things from fellow cruisers about it, so we decided to add it to our list this time up the east coast and pop in before we rounded Hatteras. Phillip and I (and Ubi too!) were exceptionally pleased with what we found there—a huge, deep inlet that would be super easy to navigate at night, a massive anchorage with tons of space and protection (I love space and protection!), a very cool lighthouse, museums, and community grounds to explore ashore, beautiful stretches of beach both on the interior and the Atlantic side, and some of the best shelling we’ve done anywhere, including the Bahamas! Cape Lookout proved to be a real treat for any sailor in need of a serene anchorage, a reconnect with our beautiful coastlines, and a good night’s rest, particularly right after—or before—rounding Cape Hatteras.
After one night at Cape Lookout, we weighed anchor again and set our sights on rounding Hatteras. We knew it was going to be mostly a motor but, ever since Phillip and I started rounding the “Graveyard of the Atlantic” in 2021, we’ve always said motoring is one of the best ways to get around Hatteras. As long as you get that treacherous patch of the Atlantic safely behind you, it doesn’t matter how you do it. Check your ego at the ocean, friend. She’s the boss out there. One bonus, though, if the conditions don’t require a lot of your attention, it does leave time for some fun, long put-off little chores to knock out on the boat. During the gentle passage, I was able to bang out a few dyneema shackles for various uses that had been on my list for a while.
We also never hesitate to eat well on passage, but with calm, motor conditions we are able to put together some of our more elegant offshore meals with sauces and complicated sides and such. Anyone else like pork tenderloin with homemade BBQ sauce, roasted broccoli, and dirty rice? I figured.
Hampton (aka “Comfort Point”) also offers a secure, protected anchorage to prepare for making the passage offshore up to Sandy Point/NYC or taking the inside through Chesapeake Bay. This past June we were totally in offshore mode, craving the blue water and hoping to do some nice sailing, which we hadn’t really been able to do yet in our previous passages. We got WRI back on board to send us another meteogram for Norfolk to NYC, which looked very promising! Ocean voyage here we come.
JUST RIGHT = AWESOME SAILING!
Our last leg, from Norfolk VA to NYC—roughly 250 nm, 40+ hours— was such a memorable offshore treat. Gentle steady winds quartering us on the starboard stern, moved Ubi along at a nice clip: 6 knots SOG. And, Atlantic City in New Jersey lit up the entire coast, like we were sailing right by a huge tri-county fair! It didn’t really even feel like the middle of the night with that much light illuminating our path. We hardly trimmed a sail the entire night. It was as if the Atlantic was rewarding us for being patient and continuing to make way, even when the conditions weren’t ideal. Even as I write this (late into October) I believe that passage will count as our best of 2023. I will never forget what it looked like when I came up for my midnight to 2:00 a.m. shift and saw a glittery lit-up coastline with Ubi zooming by. The dark water zipped by her hull with this beautiful, soothing slooshing sound.
I was also listening to 90s on 9 (which I’ve since decided is my favorite night shift soundtrack – our Sirius satellite radio on Ubi is such a treat on passages) and singing happily along to just about every song that came on. TLC, Mariah Carey, Snoop Dogg, N’Sync, Color Me Badd. Good stuff. Fun share for you – Annie back in the 90s. Big poofy bangs, a home perm, rolled up jeans, with my matching sweatshirt and socks. Me and my brother, showing love for the Chicago Bulls. Good times.
It was the quickest two hours on shift that I can recall. I almost didn’t want to wake Phillip for his. Almost. One of the other most rewarding things about passage is the swiftness with which a full body, deep sleep sets in. Minutes after I lay down I sink deep into a zombie like slumber. It’s bliss.
Our last passage up the coast this past summer was a great reminder of why we sail offshore—despite the crap passages, the chance of bad weather and uncomfortable conditions. Offshore sailing offers the highest of highs and lowest of lows. When it’s good, it’s the best sailing can offer. Pure magic, being propelled solely by the wind in a vessel that impresses and thrills you. While Phillip and I were eager and excited to begin another summer in cool New England, a small part of us was a bit sad our offshore time for the summer was over. But, NYC here we come!!
For Ubi, in 2023, April showers brought many project hours. After all that holiday island-style fun in the Abacos,
Phillip and I planned to spend a good bit of the spring in sunny Ft. Lauderdale—where we were keeping Ubi at a friend’s dock for the season—tackling some long overdue projects.
Let’s face it. It’s a boat. There’s always a list. But, it has an hierarchy. Some projects lay hidden, hoping never to be found, while some tend to bubble their way slowly to the top, and others storm to it and crash through like a man on fire. “Surprise, I’m broke! Fix me first!” It’s the boat who gets to decide, really—what projects are safety issues, what projects will get worse if not conquered now, and what can wait. After the boat makes those decisions, we peons (the owners) get to make our “want” versus “need” decisions and add our desires to Ubi’s needs.
Here’s the list we had formed on Ubi for Spring 2023:
Replace the failing shocks in the boom vang;
Rebuild the leaking hydraulic backstay;
Have a new halyard for the mainsail made;
Have new running backstays made;
Replace our sail cover with a stack pack;
Have new hatch covers made and our sagging filler taken in;
Replace the blue ultra-suede interior cushion covers with cream ultra-leather;
Repair our fridge/freezer lids where the powerful shocks were cracking and pulling out; and
Repaired a busted pickling fitting on our Cruise RO water maker.
Nine items. That’s a respectable list. Some essentials. Some simply quality of life and/or sailing upgrades. You may be thinking, why not add one more to make it a round ten? Turns out, Ubi felt the same way. Let’s dig in.
No. 1 – Replace the failing shocks in the boom vang
In the fall and winter of 2022, we had noticed our boom was starting to drop a little lower. At first, I just felt like I had to keep retightening our tie-downs that hold the boom in place (traveled over to port) when we’re not sailing. But then, the boom itself started to make contact with the bimini. Very light, but enough to signal to us that the shocks in our Sparcraft boom vang were failing. We called on Florida Rigging and Hydraulics to assist. They took the vang off the boat and sent it away to have the shocks replaced. Phillip and I opted to re-install the vang ourselves to save on some labor hours, something we had never done before.
We eventually proved capable, but it took a lot of head scratching and wrestling before we finally realized the boom itself was really the only thing strong enough to push the shocks down to the right fit. Once we finally raised the boom to an ungodly height—cocked at an angle like a catamaran—we were finally able to get the pins in for the vang install and then lower the boom back down to its normal position. We learned replacing these shocks is something that typically has to be done every 5-7 years, so it’s now on the rotating list of things to keep an eye on.
No. 2 – Rebuild the leaking hydraulic backstay
Like the boom, we had noticed while in the Bahamas that our hydraulic backstay—on the starboard side of our split backstay—had been leaking just a touch of hydraulic fluid onto the seat in the starboard corner of the cockpit and, over time, slowly releasing some of the tension we had cranked down. We knew it was time for a rebuild. We brought Florida Rigging and Hydraulics back in to assist again with rebuilding the hydraulic component. However, trying to stay as hands-on as possible, Phillip and I opted to take on the removal of hydraulic piece as well as the re-install, which proved—again—to be doable, albeit with a wild learning curve. We rigged up several halyards from the top of the mast aft to help support the mast while the hydraulic backstay was off. For the re-install, we deployed a Dyneema line through several shackles to our genny winch to help pull the starboard side of the backstay down again so we could get the pin in on the hydraulic backstay. It was a day’s work but we eventually got it done.
No. 3 – Have a new main halyard made
Our main halyard on Ubi had been chewed up a few feet aft of the shackle, likely caused (we assumed) years ago by a strike with our wind generator on the starboard stern when attaching it to the dinghy davits behind the cockpit. It also had a shackle that did not have a captive pin, which made transfer of the halyard from the mainsail or forward deck to the dinghy davits a bit trickier. We called in Florida Rigging and Hydraulics again to make us a new halyard, as we wanted both a higher-tech, no stretch line as well as a shackle with a captive pin. That decision was a game-changer. Phillip and I congratulate ourselves now every time we move that halyard (often an every-other-day occurrence) on our super smart shackle choice. “Kudos savvy sailors!” we say.
No. 4 – Have new running backstays made
On Ubi, we have two permanent Dyneema lines that run from the mast aft that we can rig up as running backstays, as needed, to help support the mast when we’re pumping downwind. The two lines we had for this purpose had also suffered a few snags and blowouts and had become compromised, so we wanted to have new ones made to be sure they were at the peak of their strength for Ubi. We had Florida Rigging and Hydraulics make these up for us as well and they turned out rather nice.
No. 5 – Replace our sail cover with a stack pack
When we bought Ubi in 2021 (can’t believe that’s coming up on almost three years now – time freaking flies!), she had a Dutchman system installed in the main sail (a system we had never used before) and a sail cover that was, unfortunately, far too large. But, she was turn-key, ready to go cruising, which was our primary goal, so we decided to try the Dutchman system for a while to make up our own mind about it. We did not end up liking it. While it promises a perfectly flaked main falling right down onto the boom every time, that was not our experience. The mainsail would often flake improperly or fall off the side of the boom, threatening to stretch and break our Dutchman fishing lines. We also did not like all of the openings and potential chafe points the Dutchman puts in the main.
Phillip and I also know we LOVE a stack pack. Drop, stuff, zip, you’re done. No sail cover to haul up and down and snap and zip over the mainsail (a rather large sail on Ubi). We are aware of the extra attention required when raising the mainsail to ensure the battens don’t snag the stack pack lines and the visibility lost at the foot of the sail when the stack pack is on, but we find the simplicity and aesthetic of the stack pack system outweighs these cons. We swapped from a sail cover to a stack pack on the old boat early on in our cruising and we’ve always found it was the right choice for us. We were thrilled to see the stack pack that Mack Sails installed on Ubi. It’s sleek, well-made, and a great improvement to the boat.
No. 6 – Have new hatch covers made and our sagging filler taken in
We had a fellow cruiser recommend a gal in Ft. Lauderdale to us who does boat canvas on the side, and we got her lined up to start our canvas work over the course of several months in the spring while we would be flying back and forth from Pensacola, FL to Ft. Lauderdale. One thing we had really been putting off, but that nigged at us daily, were the hatch covers on Ubi. They definitely served their purpose in keeping the harsh UV rays off the portlights and providing shade inside, but they often did not stay on properly and had not been professionally finished. Ubi deserved better. We lined up our canvas contact, Cindy, to make us some new “toast” Sunbrella hatch covers. What a difference that made. This was one of the first projects Cindy finished for us, and we were thrilled with her work. The seams on these covers are a work of art (ignore the bird turds!).
Our filler also had a sag in it that was aesthetically displeasing and also allowed rainwater to pool and drip right onto the upper seat of the coaming, adding to our wet cockpit. We had Cindy tack the filler up to fix these issues, and it looked and worked exceptionally better after she worked her magic.
No. 7 – Replace the blue ultra-suede interior cushion covers with cream ultra-leather
While the vivid blue ultra-suede cushions original to Ubi were pretty, Phillip and I wanted to go with a more neutral color when we switched to give us more flexibility with colors in our throw pillows, artwork, and decor on the boat. Like the Dutchman system, we decided to try out and blow out the blue cushions the first few years of our cruising on Ubi before we switched to something that suited us more. One of the best aspects about Ubi, when we bought her in March 2021—many thanks to her diligent former owner, Jim, she was ready to leave the dock and take us to really cool places. She was not a project boat. Ubi was comfortable, capable, and ready to go! When it came to the cushions, Phillip and I knew we’d spill things here and there and stain them. It was inevitable. What we didn’t expect was the speckled black look that began to appear and grow on our saloon cushions over the last two years. He and I are still not sure whether it was caused by mold or spores from the AC, but Phillip and I spent too much time, unsuccessfully, trying to scrub, rub, even steam clean the black specks off—to no avail. It was time to upgrade the cushions.
Cindy did a bang-up job. This has been one of our favorite upgrades on the boat in 2023. The ultra-leather is butter-soft and cool to the touch. The ultra-leather is also quite durable and stain resistant, particularly to red wine. Ask me how I know that, lol. We also love the “champagne” Sunbrella material that we chose and purchased from Sail Rite which gives the interior of the boat a lighter, brighter look.
No. 8 – Repair our fridge/freezer lids where the powerful shocks were cracking and pulling out
The shocks that lift and raise our fridge lids are quite strong, which is nice. They’re heavy lids. But, the shocks are also so strong they were beginning to crack the underside of the lid and pull out of their screw holes. Before they caused a large hole and worse damage, we decided to remove them, fill the holes and cover the area with epoxy, then remount the shocks. They’ve been holding now for six months with no issue and frequent, rigorous daily use.
No. 9 – Repair a busted pickling fitting on our Cruise RO water maker
Rich at Cruise RO has proven prompt and incredibly helpful to us on several occasions. We did not have a water maker on our Niagara 35, so we had many questions in the beginning that Rich patiently fielded and handled. Phillip and I also had to replace the water maker’s membranes when we first bought Ubi, and Rich’s videos walked us right through that job. When we pickled the water maker in preparation for our plans to leave the boat in Ft. Lauderdale for a bit to fly home for family visits, work, and play, we found the fitting that feeds the pickling material in was busted. Rich hooked us up. Sent the parts we needed and—with a quick Annie fix—we were back in business. Thank you Rich!
No. 10 – Replace our busted davits … SAY WHAT?!
Poor Ducky (our dink).
I can’t imagine what that terrifying rainy night was like for him, watching torrential rains pound him merciless for 24 hours as the 2” steel arms that hold him up slowly began to bend and fail, threatening to send him crashing, which they eventually did. Phillip and I were back home in Pensacola on April 13, 2023 when Ft. Lauderdale was hit with an unprecedented rainstorm, dropping nearly 26” (TWENTY-SIX?!) of rain in 24 hours. The winds were also howling. It was a wicked storm. When the owner of the dock where we were keeping Ubi sent us this picture of our boat after the storm passed, Phillip and I were shocked. How the hell did that happen?
You can see in the photo the plug on the dinghy was clearly out. But, the rains were relentless and the wind had the boat heeled over pretty hard to starboard for a 24-hour period leaning against the dock, also dropping twigs and leaves and debris into the dinghy. We believe a combination of the drain hole clogging from debris and enough heel of the boat to starboard to allow the body and bow of the dinghy to fill to a point that the starboard davit began to fail and bend. Once the weight tipped enough the dinghy could not drain, the relentless rain just kept filling the dinghy with thousands of pounds of water that the davits simply could not hold. It was kind of a freak accident, but we did blame ourselves in part for not putting the dinghy on the deck. Lessons learned.
The real take-away from this story was the comradery of fellow cruisers! Phillip and I were in Pensacola, hundreds of miles away from Ft. Lauderdale, and couldn’t really tell from the photo whether the hard aluminum bottom of our dinghy had fallen and cracked Ubi’s stern. Was Ubi taking on water? Was she in need of immediate, urgent help? Being away from your boat when you believe she’s in trouble and needs you is a sickening, gut-wrenching feeling. I know boats aren’t people, but I akin them to pets. Imagine if someone sent you a picture of your dog, clinging to a rock in the middle of a raging river and you are hundreds of miles away. To us, it feels a bit like that.
We needed someone to go to Ubi as fast as possible to make sure her stern was intact and get the dinghy down and secure. At first we tried Boat U.S., but were having trouble placing a call for a rescue of our dinghy, not the actual boat, but either way they were going to charge us a hefty price. Boat U.S. was working it up the chain of command when Phillip had the brilliant idea to utilize our new membership in the Ocean Cruising Club, a community of fellow, qualifying cruisers (the qualifying passage is a continuous ocean passage of at least 1,000 nautical miles) poised to assist and advise one another. After years of coaxing, and a generous offer to sponsor, from our incredible cruising friends, Russell and Lynne on s/v Blue Highway, we had finally joined the OCC (ironically) just a couple of months prior, but this is a testament to not only good friends and luck, but also timing. Phillip remembered the OCC has a Members’ Fleet Map on their website where members can search and find other OCC members. This can be helpful to reach out and ask questions about the port you’ve just reached, or seek assistance with boat projects, or just connect with fellow adventurous, like-minded cruisers. On this day, we wanted to use our OCC connection to call in a big favor – one we would be happy to pay forward three times over, but that we needed to cash in for ourselves today.
On the OCC Members’ Fleet Map, we found John and Alexis on s/v Ashling, a stately, impressive Atlantic 47 that we had met previously in Annapolis. They were in Lake Sylvia, a spot we had frequented numerous times during our east coast travels. Lake Sylvia was also just a short dinghy ride from where Ubi was docked in Ft. Lauderdale. We didn’t know John and Alexis well, but that’s the beauty of OCC members. Whether you’ve met them yet or not, you can bet they’re resourceful, smart, capable people willing to help. Our instincts were right. We emailed John and he responded immediately, with an offer to help. Even though a squall was about to come through Ft. Lauderdale—that Phillip and I were sure John would have preferred to hunker down on his boat for—John offered to leave Alexis on the boat and quickly dinghy over to Ubi to assess our situation and get Ducky secure if he could. John even offered to grab a friend of his, a fellow cruiser, on a nearby boat in Lake Sylvia. Who would that be, but our very own friend, Jamie (and Sheryl) on s/v Pacific High—whom we had crossed wakes with several times up and down the east coast and had just spent time with in New England the past summer. Hell yeah! Somehow we had scored! Now we not only had a team going to Ubi’s rescue, we had managed to round up two smart, cruiser savvy sailors who would know how to handle the situation probably better than Phillip and I might. This gave us confidence that no further unnecessary damage would occur in the rescue. These were smart guys. Ubi was a lucky gal!
Phillip and I were thrilled when a friend at the dock was able to get us all on Face Time when John and Jamie arrived, and we could watch and see John and Jamie work through the situation on our boat. How it all happened—exactly—was still a mystery, but Ducky had definitely severely bent both davits, primarily the starboard davit, before breaking his bridal and crashing down. But … Ducky hadn’t struck Ubi, just scuffed her on the way down. “Just a scuff,” I heard John say and my thumping heart immediately slowed. John and Jamie were able to get Ducky down and secure and assess Ubi. Her davits were busted for sure, but that was her only injury. She wasn’t taking on water. She was sound, dry, and safe. Surprisingly, other than a terrifying night I’m sure, even Ducky hadn’t suffered any permanent injury in the ordeal. Phillip and I immediately agreed: we could deal with the davit repair/replacement and make a new lifting bridal for Ducky once we returned. All was safe for the moment. Ubi and Ducky had survived 26” of rain in 24 hours alone with only minimal damage.
When we flew back to Ft. Lauderdale and returned to Ubi a week later, we were thrilled to have Collection Yachts (the company that bought Outbound around the time we purchased Ubi) completely had our backs. They were responsive, resourceful, and prompt in assisting us with having new davits shipped from China, and custom welded to fit on Ubi. By the end of May, Phillip and I had completed a pretty extensive repair list—with our biggest, and final, repair: Item No. 10!—coming as a complete surprise (welcome to boating!). We were now super eager to get this boat moving and start heading north back up the east coast in June. New England was beckoning us for the summer again.
Next up on the blog, we start our jaunt north and face some of the worst offshore weather we’ve endured on Ubi and the east coast. Stay tuned!
With as many winters—Christmases and New Years’ included—that Phillip and I have spent in the Bahamas, including this past holiday season in 2022, I figured it was time for a little Bahamas tribute, a rhythmic ditty, if you’ll indulge me, an Annie Seuss treat, as we wish you “Happy Holihamas!” and share with you what it is like to shirk the cold, ditch the snow shovel, and trade your egg nogs for Goombay smashes with a holiday season in the Abacos.
December 22, 2022
Ft. Lauderdale, Florida, 5:03 a.m.
We weigh Ubi’s anchor and point her bow towards West End.
Just a 10-hour voyage before us, we don’t care we have to motor-sail,
Any day spent in bikinis in a calm Atlantic makes us feel rather swell,
Particularly knowing we would arrive in West End mid-afternoon in full daylight
With a wide, easy entrance, a spacious fuel dock, and a slip that would suit us just right.
As we secure our happy yacht in Bahamian waters, a blinding crystal green
I find myself mesmerized—again, every time!—by the clarity I am seeing.
The colorful scales on each fish, I feel I can count.
The jewel tone of the water, I feel I can reach in and scoop out.
Walking the docks I’m reminded of equally happy days coming here on Plaintiff’s Rest
When we checked into the Bahamas for the first time in 2017 as virgin guests!
Walking over to the beach on the north shore, the view looks too perfect to be real
A white beach, bending palm trees, Bahamian waters, it’s surreal!
Feeling drunk already on simply the sights, to the tiki bar we claim it’s time to dash
Egg nog be damned, we want their famous Bahamian drink, a Goombay Smash!
We trade turkey and canned cranberry dressing in for fresh, tangy conch salad
And savor the tiki bar’s reggae style Bob Marley version of holiday ballads
Christmas Eve still brings us dazzling lights, a mesmerizing purple, yellow, orange, blue
And I fall asleep in Ubi’s comfy vberth thinking Papa Noel might just find me here, too.
Christmas Day brings us a gift: a cool northwest wind that we sail right to Mangrove Cay
Phillip cracks his usual: “Someone’s spending today shoveling snow in Milwaukee”
It’s another serene night spent at Great Sale Cay before we set our sights on Green Turtle
Keeping Ubi scrubbed and clean during our travels remains my constant but rewarding hurdle.
No sleigh or reindeer at Green Turtle we choose our holiday chariot, a ramshackle golf cart
With the way it carries all our picnic, beach, and kite gear, we find it quite smart!
Spending the languid days between Christmas and New Years kitesurfing in the ocean
Makes it feel like we put the stress of holiday flights and last-minute shopping in slow motion.
We don’t have any of the traditional holiday décor aboard, no tall tree, on top a shining star,
But a stately mast we do boast, and when I’m sent up to check the windex it appears quite far!
As December 31st approaches, our excitement grows for the celebration of the year anew,
However in the Bahamas they do it rather differently, with a lively tradition called Junkanoo!
Locals dress in bright, homemade garments and elaborate costumes, paint on their faces
They beat steel drums in rhythm, their enthusiasm and joy rallies every onlooker, all races.
I’m always in awe of their sheer pleasure, Bahamians sharing their beautiful homeland
In ways they appear to have so little, but when I look around and appreciate it all I understand.
One thing Phillip and I had been really looking forward to, in addition to the Junkanoo glitter
Was the hope that locals would fry up many batches of their savory island gem, conch fritters!
After Junkanoo, we take to the Atlantic again, our sights next set on the Town of Hope
Whose dazzling flora and fauna and neon colored buildings we find supremely dope!
On the way, we dropped a lunch hook at Johnny’s Cay to take in the jawdropping water
Happily reminded that some locations you can still choose by sight, no need for a chartplotter
After grabbing a ball in the harbor, we were thrilled to get a special Hope Town invite from Muffin and Bill
To their weekly game of Bingo: “At Cap’n Jacks, ‘round happy hour, grab a table, it’s a big deal!”
In Hope Town we got news some long-time friends would enter the Bahamas within a week
We turned around to head back through the Abacos to meet them, Annie giving a squeak.
We stopped in Munjack Cay, not wanting to miss a stroll along the trail of recycled art
Delighted to find it had grown extensively since our last visit, many more cruisers playing a part.
Making our way into the anchorage at Great Sale Cay, we took in a wondrous sight
Our sistership, another Outbound, s/vSerendipitous, looking ship shape and right.
With our amazing Annapolis friends, Peter and Patty aboard, waving brightly from their bow
As well as Spandana and Dev on their Cal 40, Turtle, making us grateful for the hear and now.
As it had been months since we’d seen these hearty sailors, each with many stories to share with everyone,
Esteemed HaveWind fans, where did we last leave you? Ahhh … Portsmouth, VA where we spent an unanticipated month (nearly) having some serious work done on our Fischer Panda DC generator, where he earned the title “Rocky” for stepping back in the ring and conquering all odds. With a fully functioning generator at last, and an approaching winter, it was time for Phillip, me (and Ubi makes three!) to get headed south as quick as safely possible in the fall of 2022. Ironically, the right weather window came to us, once again, around Halloween (the same time we rounded Hatteras headed south in 2021). We happily dubbed it “Happy Hattereen” ( … again! : ) and started our journey south for the winter, making four memorable, mentionable stops along the way. Off we go Ubi crew—BBQ to Bikinis: Cruising Down the East Coast 2022.
BBQ
We made the sail from Norfolk to Charleston (about a 400 nm run) in roughly 62 hours. The wind was light at first allowing us to motor-sail around Hatteras—a significant obstacle to put in our rearview mirror. I am totally okay with motoring around that treacherous patch of the Atlantic. We can sail later, you know … where the depths and shoals are actually charted. It was a little unnerving watching some thunderstorms off the port bow during our voyage but they, thankfully, never approached us.
We rigged up the whisker pole for the last 24 hours and, overall, had a nice downwind run into Charleston, even coming in at night (not a problem in such a big inlet).
We dropped the hook in the anchorage by the Yorktown, where we had spent a little over a week in 2021.
We like that anchorage as it’s a fairly short dinghy ride in across the Cooper River—although it can get a bit wild with massive cargo ships coming through and a little wet in wind and chop—but then you’re right in the heart of downtown Charleston. That’s worth a wet dinghy butt any day. And, while Phillip and I thought we had really gotten the lay of the land in Charleston in 2021, there was one HUGE culinary piece we found this year we had been missing.
If it hasn’t yet been clear here on this blog, we’re pretty big foodies. We like to eat. We like to drink. And, we LOVE to eat and drink at the same time.
Phillip, our Chief Trip Planner and Restaurant Sommelier (yes, that is a thing) has a pretty meticulously culled “travel list” for each city we’ve been to—or plan to go to—of restaurants to check out (or hit up again), cool bars, neat theatres, landmarks, sights, tours, or just cool things, in general, to do and see there. And, we’d spent several weeks total in Charleston during our voyages up and down the East Coast in 2021 and thought we had a pretty good handle on things. Turns out we were wrong. It took a feisty little grandma Uber driver to prove it to us.
When we get a rideshare driver who is a local and gives us a good “I’ll bet he/she knows some good spots” vibes, we’ll ask for a recommendation. This has often taken us to little-known places, typically off the tourist path, that have afforded us a supremely “locals” experience. This day in November, this Uber driver did not disappoint. “Do you like BBQ?” Uber Granny asked. Do we? “Ahh … well, then. You need to go to Lewis. There’ll be a line out the door. Don’t let it deter you. There’s a bar where you can get a drink while you wait because you’re going to have to make some tough decisions about what to order. Personally, I like the brisket. It’s the best I’ve ever had.” This coming from a 30-year Charleston veteran. That’s saying something. “All the sides are incredible, too. They have a limited menu for a reason. Every single thing has been perfected.” Uber Granny caught my eye in the rearview mirror. “Perfected,” she reiterated.
That’s all we needed to hear. Lewis BBQ for lunch it shall be, Phillip and I determined that day. Uber Granny was right. There was a line out the door. But we did not let it deter us. Phillip and I got a beer and a coke at the bar and promptly got in line. We knew we were going to get the brisket, but I also wanted to try their pulled pork with the three different BBQ sauces. Phillip wanted to give their ribs a shake. And, I remembered what Granny said about the sides—we decided on the collards (obviously), coleslaw (I love veggies), and their fries.
What we didn’t expect, though, was the freebie. When we got to the front of the line, a professional “carver” said hello and promptly handed us a piece of meat. Just handed it over. Like it was a totally normal thing. “It’s the brisket,” she said. “You won’t be disappointed.” What other response is there? Phillip and I put it in our mouths. Jesus, it was good. Fatty, salty, flavorful meat filled our palettes. We were definitely getting the brisket. We ordered up – by the pound: quarter, half, and (for Annie) upwards. The cashier dude asked me how many “plates” I would need. Turns out, at Lewis, a “plate” is a strip of butcher paper. Nice. I could really get used to a place like this.
Once our tray was put together, Phillip and I could barely stop long enough to snap a couple photos before we dug in and demolished that beautiful spread. The pulled pork was exceptionally tasty. Almost didn’t need any BBQ sauce at all, and that’s saying something. The collards had this meaty backbone to them. Phillip’s rib sandwich was incredible. Everything was incredible. Lewis is hands-down the best BBQ we’ve ever had.
I don’t know how we had never heard of this before, but add it to your Charleston list. Charleston, Lewis, we’ll be back.
Beatdown
Our next sail was a much shorter leg from Charleston to Fernandina Beach, FL, roughly 150 nm. We were expecting a nice 10-13 knots of wind to push us down the coast.
Unfortunately, we got battered. The wind was a steady 17 knots through the night, very close to our stern forcing us to sail a tight line to avoid being pushed to shore. At one point in the night—during my shift, of course—the wind shifted fiercely, throwing the auto pilot off. By the time I got back to the helm to clear the auto and take over, we had gybed. Thankfully, we were under a reefed main and we had our preventers on, so it wasn’t too violent, but I had to gybe us again to get back on course. By the time Phillip came up (after all that clanging, banging ruckus) we were secure, but my nerves and confidence were shattered. It was not a fun night, followed by not a fun morning.
The wind picked up to a steady 20+ over the course of the morning. It was also right behind our beam. Probably about the best place for it at that speed so it wouldn’t accidentally gybe us again, nor was it in our face. But, with a 3-4 foot swell pushing us, too, we were really moving, making 7.5 to 9 knots pretty steady.
Thankfully, Ubi is strong as hell and she was handling it very well. It was unnerving, however, hearing clatter on the radio of other boats taking on water or having run aground in those conditions. It made us incredibly grateful for our powerful, capable boat and her competent captain guiding us in.
But, the wind would not let up. We had to slice into 24 knots of wind when coming into the channel to Fernandina Beach. When we finally anchored in the Amelia River, we were thrilled to get the sails down and tuck Ubi in for a well-deserved rest. Whew.
It was our first time to Fernandina, though, and we found rewards in store for our intense passage in the form of a quaint, clean eight-block radius of really cool shops, restaurants, and bars. We were kind of wishing we had planned to spend more time there, but the weather was affording us a nice window the following day down to St. Augustine. But, on a recommendation from a fellow cruiser, we split a tasty and beautiful paella at Espana that was worth the salty passage.
We would like to spend more time in Fernandina Beach during our next transit up or down the coast. Just … minus the wind next time.
Bottom Job
While we had cranked “Rocky” (our newly anointed generator) several times to charge the batteries while we had been underway, we hadn’t yet used him to accomplish the goal we had set out to do when we first found he wouldn’t crank (back in Coney Island). That is, use our brand new Brownies Third Lung unit to clean our own bottom. When we finally settled in West Palm Beach (warmer water), we were excited to fire Rocky up to give Ubi a well-deserved bottom scrub. I wouldn’t want to think how fast she would have rocketed into Fernandina Beach if she’d had a slick bottom. 9 knots is plenty fast for me.
In West Palm, we performed our generator checklist and sang our now iconic song to get Rocky fired up. “Duh-uh-uh, duh-uh-uh! (Gonna Fly Now/Bill Conti) Let’s go Rock-OH!” we shouted. With that intro, Rocky turned over like the champion he is and we were very pleased with the easy setup and user-friendly use of the Brownies. Just turn on the inverter, set the unit up on deck, plug it in and turn it on, and *voila* we were able to jump over with our respirators and breathe underwater. Phillip and I took turns going down and scrubbing each side, able to give Ubi’s bottom the attention and time she deserves. We were comforted to know our time, money, and efforts spent in Portsmouth, VA back in October had not been in vain.
Bahamas Bound
After West Palm Beach, it was a quick hop to Ft. Lauderdale where we planned to rent a dock and set up a “home base” for Ubi for the winter. I highly recommend, if you’re even in Ft. Lauderdale, take this seasoned sailor to lunch! We got to meet up with Pam Wall while we were there and show her Ubi for the first time! I think her face says “Quite posh!” don’t you? : ) Having Pam aboard … what a treat!
While we’ve raved about Ft. Lauderdale and all it has to offer before (which includes the amazing Pam Wall), one of our favorite things about Ft. Lauderdale is that it’s just a short day hop from the Bahamas. In the right conditions, it’s only a quick 10-hours or less trip from the States to the Islands. Leave at daylight; dock in time for a goombay smash. Can’t beat that. It was time to trade in our beef for conch, big winds for Bahamas breezes, and our stinky, fat foulies for bikinis! Who else has spent Christmas in the Abacos?
Turns out Papa Noel likes goombay smashes, too. Next up on the blog: Holiday in Tropical Heaven. Stay tuned!
Where did we last leave you? That’s right. Brooklyn NYC! Boy was that a posh stay at the new One-15 Marina there in Brooklyn.
It was super cool to step foot off the boat right onto the waterfront piers and parks of Brooklyn. Not to mention either taking a quick sub ride—or even walking across the iconic Brooklyn Bridge!—right into NYC. We spent an incredible couple of weeks there in September-October last year while Hurricane Ian unfortunately rolled over south Florida. Once the remnants of Ian cleared and allowed us to get back offshore, we were planning a two-day offshore trip from Coney Island, NY to Norfolk, VA.
What we did not plan on, however, was our generator going kaput right before we were set to head offshore.
October 2022:
The last chore we were going to undertake before we headed offshore NY to VA was going to be a bottom scrub (you know, to get that extra knot of speed!). Phillip and I had invested in a Brownie’s Third Lung air compressor dive unit to allow us to scrub Ubi’s bottom (more meticulously than by free-diving, which I am not good at … at all … add it to my bucketlist), as well as perform prop and shaft maintenance and/or other bottom repairs, as needed, or perhaps dive deeper reefs when we find them. We found the Brownie’s was a solid investment for the promise of regular DIY bottom jobs. Simply crank the generator, turn on the inverter, plug the Brownie’s (110V) unit in and *BAM* you can breathe underwater and take all the time you need to make sure your boat’s bottom is safe, smooth, and pristine. Only there was no *BAM.* No nothing. When we tried to turn our Fischer Panda 4000 DC generator over in Coney Island to do the bottom, it would not crank.
My hmmpfh face after getting Brownies all rigged up and suiting up, ready to dive overboard with my Scotch Brite and get to it!
Full disclosure, we’d had some difficulty with our generator from the beginning. He wasn’t a 100% consistent cranker, which earned him the name “Gremlin” (courtesy of me). Other times when he had given us trouble, we had thought we’d tracked it down to low voltage and a loose connection on the starting battery (which we use to crank him). He had refused to jettison exhaust water one time when I was manning Ubi alone, and I found he had chewed through his own impeller. A relatively easy fix, but it definitely instilled his “Gremlin” nickname in my book.
Meet Gremlin: Our Fischer Panda AGT 4000 DC Generator
On Ubiquitous, we have a Fischer Panda AGT 4000 DC generator, installed in the “workroom” (Annie’s shop) on our Outbound in the starboard lazarette. Ubi’s former owner selected the DC generator—over an AC generator—to provide a quicker, far more efficient charge to Ubi’s 12V lithium battery bank, as needed, to supplement power she receives from her 200 watts of solar, the wind generator, and our Yanmar 80hp engine. I’ll be honest. I wasn’t a huge Gremlin fan at first. On the old boat, our 1985 Niagara 35, we never had a generator, and I wasn’t initially a fan of this second (teeny tiny) engine that required our attention, maintenance, time, and trust. I like simplicity.
But with the comfort that Ubi’s many gallant systems provides, an occasional super-charge of her batteries via the DC generator is a must. Phillip and I are fans of the DC generator (over an AC generator) because we don’t typically need AC power. We’re not air-conditioning people. We don’t have or typically use a microwave, toaster, hair dryer, etc. on the boat. As elegant as Ubiquitous is, at heart, Phillip and I are still simple sailors. Elegant campers, you might say. Which means we liked the idea of a quick 45-50 minute run of the generator every 4 or so days as needed. When the water maker is commissioned, we need to make water (or freshwater flush the system) every 4 or so days. Making water requires we run the generator, so it times well. That is, when the generator is running well.
On this day in Coney Island, our hopes that Gremlin’s occasional crank problem was a low voltage issue (that we thought we had fixed) were quashed. Our generator had plenty of voltage, yet he was not able to get the necessary combustion, for some reason, to turn over. With winter encroaching, we knew we needed to get somewhere further south, where we had more resources and time to troubleshoot our generator issue. While heading out on an offshore passage, with such a critical component of our power generation system on Ubi impaired, was not ideal. We knew we had plenty of fuel to motor the entire way (or at least enough of the way to keep the batteries charged if needed), so our plan was to get to Norfolk and then—#1 priority—get Gremlin figured out.
Our Voyage, New York to Norfolk
In all, we had a chilly but exciting sail from Coney Island, NY to Norfolk, VA—an approximate 300 nm run—that we made in about 50 hours. Thankfully, we sailed a good bit of the way, making good time, with minimal power needs.
We anchored off of Hospital Point, where we stayed for a bit in 2021 while preparing to round Hatteras the first time.
Our first day on the hook, we got the Fischer Panda folks on the phone to begin troubleshooting. Their initial thought was a problem getting fuel to the cylinder. We checked the fuel lines, cleaned the injector, and ensured we had a bright pink stream of diesel pumping in. It didn’t seem fuel was the problem, although it’s an important first place to start.
While Phillip was on the phone with the Fischer Panda guy, I had Googled around the Norfolk area, looking for a small engine repair guy and came across this Lafayette Marine shop that was highly rated in the area. I called. Got a guy named Charlie on the line, who could hear Phillip and the Fischer Panda guy running down fuel issues while I was talking to him on speaker. From overhearing their conversation and from what I’d told him about the generator not turning over, Charlie told us “you’re probably waterlocked.”
Water what?
The Diagnosis: Seawater in the Cylinder
I’m sure my blonde was showing. But, once Charlie explained that we likely had seawater that had come back into the generator somehow and had started to corrode the valve and cylinder, preventing it from creating the combustion necessary to turn the generator over. Charlie even told me he’d seen the exact same problem on another Outbound 46 about a year prior and he fixed that one. While I had no idea who I was calling at the time, it seemed like I had reached the dude around those parts for the type of repair we needed on our generator.
Once Charlie mentioned the other Outbound owner, Phillip and I jumped on the Outbound forum and—sure enough—found a fellow outbound owner who’d faced this same problem with his generator and had stopped in Norfolk to have this guy, Charlie, repair it. That was enough to tell Phillip and I we were in good hands. One problem with cruising (i.e., repairing your boat in exotic places) is it’s sometimes hard to find trusted marine vendors in ports you’ve never visited and where you don’t know anyone. So, having a fellow Outbound owner vouch for Charlie meant a lot to us. Tentatively, we asked Charlie if he could meet us somewhere near Hospital Point to come aboard Ubi and assess our generator.
“It would be best if you could get a slip at a marina so I can come and go as needed. Do you know Tidewater Marina?” Charlie asked.
I Googled. 500 feet. I looked out our portlight. “Yep. I can see it from the boat.”
Phillip and I weighed anchor and got settled into a slip at Tidewater that day with Charlie scheduled to come the following morning to assess the generator. As soon as he got Gremlin torn apart and a vice grip on it that he could use to manually turn it, Phillip and I both could hear it. A distinctive slosh when Charlie turned it. That sealed it. We were definitely waterlocked.
How Did This Happen?
Charlie saw it all quite clearly the minute he looked at our install, saying it was very similar to the other Outbound he had repaired the year prior. The muffler for the generator wasn’t installed low enough to prevent seawater from traveling back up the exhaust hose and into the generator, particularly in a sea state where the boat is pitching. We had definitely been in some sea states since we started sailing Ubi one year prior. Heck, Brooklyn alone had enough wake in the marina (despite their wake-dampening attenuators) to have rocked Ubi back and forth to allow the water backup. Charlie showed us the diagram in the Fischer Panda manual showing the requisite height that should be allowed between the muffler and the generator to prevent the ability for seawater to travel back into the generator. For whatever reason, our generator had not been installed to these specs.
Charlie was sure he would see corrosion in the cylinder and valve when he took it apart, telling him the valve was likely unable to create the necessary seal for combustion. However, he was hopeful he could replace the valve and clean up the cylinder and walls enough to create a seal and get our generator up and running again. Otherwise, we were looking at installing a new generator—which sparked a whole chain of research and questions on our end that had our heads spinning. To avoid all that research, decision-making, and expense, Phillip and I were equally as hopeful Charlie could get Gremlin back to fighting condition.
How Charlie Fixed It
Even if we could repair Gremlin, we still had the faulty install to deal with. How were we going to prevent the same thing from happening—raw exhaust water traveling back into the generator—the next time we got in a sea state (or even a big wake in a channel)? Thankfully, Charlie had a fix. His plan was to cut a hole in the floor under the generator (that was about 15” above the hull in the bilge) where he could install, essentially, a second, lower muffler, that would prevent seawater from being able to make the journey up that high to get back into our generator. While cutting more holes in the boat is never ideal, we didn’t see another option for Gremlin, assuming he recovered from his surgery.
Charlie dismantled Gremlin and took his cylinder off. When he removed the cylinder, Phillip and I both could easily see the corrosion.
Charlie took the cylinder to his shop for cleaning and replacement of the valve which we all hoped would revive our generator. In the meantime, Phillip and I made good use of our time in Portsmouth and Norfolk, VA.
Making the Most of Our Time in Norfolk
I’ll let you in on a little secret. Wine festivals tend to find their way to us. Turns out, there was one that very weekend in Norfolk—the annual Town Point Virginia Wine Festival. Ummm … yes please? Charlie actually recommended it to us. Likely because he sensed we like wine and also (we suspect) he, wisely, wanted us nice and distracted while he worked diligently on our generator, because our stint with Charlie actually left us stuck in Norfolk, at a marina which we had not originally planned for, and additional two weeks. The Wine Festival was a much-welcomed distraction.
Another bonus? Our friends and fellow Outbound owners, Peter and Patty (first introduced on the blog here) were also in the Norfolk area. So, we used the time wisely to spend a few very fun nights with them, including one right around Halloween where we all dressed up for the occasion. Phillip and I pilfered this awesome thrift store in Portsmouth and were actually able to put together a pretty spiffy Genie costume and Firefighter getup for a total of $12.00.
Peter and Patty, however, won the costume prize with their original Operation rendition. Very clever. That night, we also found an outdoor concert headed up by a Talking Heads cover band that was pretty out of this world. Now, whenever Phillip and I hear “Psycho killer, Qu’est-ce que c’est?” we think of Peter and Patty and our fun Halloween in Norfolk.
Make the most of it, right? That’s pretty much what cruising is all about. We did see some pretty sunsets and rainbows while in Portsmouth.
MEET ROCKY
After a few unexpected, pricey (but fun!) weeks in Portsmouth, VA, Charlie came back with some exceptional news. The newly repaired cylinder head (complete with a new valve) was ready. Charlie brought it to the boat and the visual was telling. It looked super clean.
We all were very hopeful Charlie’s fix, including the second muffler installed under the generator floor, would allow our generator to turn over and run smoothly, without water every flowing back into the cylinder.
After a good bit of priming and initial attempts, our Fischer Panda finally turned over! I whooped so loud when the generator finally cranked, it spooked Charlie. Poor guy, he spent so many hours, uncomfortable, on his knees down in our workroom. Charlie was a dedicated professional who was honest with us and approached our generator problem very pragmatically and kept us informed the entire time. We can’t recommend Lafayette Marine and Charlie in Norfolk, VA enough. Thank you again, Charlie!
I’m sure Charlie was just as thrilled to hear our generator turn over as we were. And, after some fun banter with cruising friends about the issues we’d been having with Gremlin and how his recovery was going, my Bestie, Rachel, said if he recovered and got back in the ring, he deserved a new name.
Meet our repaired and recovered generator. No longer Gremlin. Now, he’s Rocky. Balboa.
And you better believe Phillip and I sing this song every time we go to crank Rocky. He deserves it. He’s a champion.
Next up on the blog, we round Hatteras again (another Happy Hattereen!) and head south to warmer temps and island times. Stay tuned!
This was such a fun experience, chatting with two “Caribbean Thriller” authors, Douglas Pratt and Nicholas Harvey, about sailing, writing, working as a lawyer remotely, a potential idea for my next book plot, forgetting to wear pants in Cuba, and … OH! … my least favorite singer. A lot of fun stuff packed in here. Many thanks to Doug and Nick for having me on their podcast among many other talented and interesting characters. I think I had a little too much fun with this one (if there is such a thing!). Give it a click and a listen. Enjoy!
Summary of episode: Nick and Doug get derailed answering an hilarious listener question, then interview a very entertaining lady by the name of Annie Dike. She’s a lawyer, sailor, author, and blogger who has followed her passions to live an island hopping existence.
While we certainly loved (and would prefer) taking in NYC via a train ride from Port Washington leaving our boat to sit gently on a protected mooring ball while we whoop it up in the Big City, there’s something to be said about stepping off the boat right onto Brooklyn’s Peir 1 waterfront Park. As we’ve mentioned before, while NYC is surrounded by water, there’s not really any good places to come into NYC by sailboat – not many docks, marinas, or anchorages to speak of. So, when Phillip and I heard from fellow cruisers while making our way north up the east coast last year that a new marina was opening up in Brooklyn, we were intrigued! There was also talk of state-of-the-art attenuators the marina and its design team engineered to tame the aggressive wake and waters of New York Harbor. Phillip and I decided mid-summer last year that we had to give this fascinating new marina—Brooklyn ONE 15—a try, so we booked a week in late September October for our Big Brooklyn Splurge!
September-October 2022
Traveling through Hell’s Gate from the Long Island Sound to New York Harbor, we’ve heard, can be treacherous if not timed right with the tide as there are wicked swift currents that rip through that narrow channel. Thankfully, Phillip (our chief navigator … I’m chief dishwasher) has planned it perfectly for us both times and we enjoyed a fun, sunny, sightseeing motor over from Port Washington, NY to the ONE 15 Marina in Brooklyn.
We were excited to see the effects of their groundbreaking attenuators for ourselves in the marina. Interestingly, we learned their system is comprised of custom-made floating barriers, anchored with precisely located pilings which cushion the marina against unwanted wave action while still allowing for the natural flow of tidal waves to reduce any environmental impact. You can read more about ONE 15’s high-tech attenuator system here.
Once docked, Phillip and I were thrilled to find ourselves right on Brooklyn’s Pier 1 Park with incredible walking/jogging grounds just a step off the boat. Not to mention rows of amazing restaurants, an exceptional wine store, coffee shop, laundromat, even a Trader Joe’s—all within a radius of just a few blocks from the marina! And, can we just talk about this evening view?
The ability to step out of Ubi’s cockpit and stretch our legs on a dinner outing or just an afternoon or evening walk and take in the entire skyline of NYC was just mesmerizing. What a treat for cruisers living on their sailboat, huh?
Phillip and I even got the benefit of a free fireworks show one night over NYC that we could view from Ubi’s cockpit!! I mean … really? The occasion? We had no clue and—frankly—could care less. For all we knew, those fireworks were just for us!
Sometimes the coolest part about living the seemingly flexible (albeit married to the weather) life of a cruiser taking the world in by boat are the random shows you get to see that you didn’t even have to buy tickets for. In our travels, Phillip and I have stumbled into: wine festivals, interpretive dance performances, local production plays, art exhibits, concerts, comedy shows, beach volleyball championships, weightlifting competitions, you name it. It’s amazing what you can find just walking around in new cities, reading flyers on windows, and talking to the locals. That’s honestly one of my favorite aspects of cruising. And, in that regard, Brooklyn did not disappoint. Here’s what we enjoyed during our stay in Brooklyn:
Walking across the Brooklyn Bridge (which is now only open to foot traffic, not bike traffic on the main thoroughfare, a nice upgrade) to New York City. Such a feet treat!
Brushing off our flat-skates-skills at Flippers Skating Rink at the Rockefeller Center. I was surprised I can still skate backwards … sort of.
Picking up some incredibly unique middle eastern spices, breads, and vegetables (while enjoying several decadent deli lunches) at Sahadi’s just a short walk from ONE 15 Marina:
Discovering New York City’s favorite cookies (for real) at Levain Bakery. After a day perusing Central Park, this intoxicating chocolate and dough smell pulled us down 74th Street where we discovered a bakery tucked three steps down from the street. Got a cookie. I thought Phillip was going to die from flavor pleasure.
Taking in a really unique and cool view of east New York City and the East River taking a gondola, better known as the “East River Skyway,” back from NYC to Brooklyn.
Feeling like true Brooklyn Heights “locals” dining on the bench looking out the huge picture windows of River Deli onto Joralemon Street. We also found the most exceptional Sardinian wine while we were there. We’re still looking to find this gem again …
Taking what I believe is one of the best photos I have ever captured at the Washington Square Park Arch in NYC. I’ve considered having this printed to canvas to display on the boat. I couldn’t stop smiling and singing along to this exuberant drummer “Go Alan Go” who regaled us with his singing talents, his exuberant curly hair, and his infectious joy, while we were there. I adore street performers.
Pillaging through Trader Joe’s in the heart of downtown Brooklyn on Atlantic Avenue, an incredible gem for cruisers with all of its unique nuts, trail mixes, snacks, and more.
Taking the ferry over to NYC and biking around the Hudson River Park, a wildly expansive green space perfect for walking, jogging, strolling, and flash dancing.
Strolling through China Town and indulging on the most exceptional dim sum and dumplings we have ever put in our mouths at Nom Wah Tea Parlor (a recommendation from our fellow Outbound owners and cruising friends, Peter and Patty on s/v Serendipitous, with whom we spent our first 4th of July aboard Ubi in 2021). P&P, you did not disappoint.
Meanwhile in Florida …
Sadly, while Phillip and I were having all this fun in Brooklyn/NYC, Hurricane Ian was ripping a swath through Port Charlotte/Ft. Myers. While you never want to wish hurricanes on anyone, living on the coast with so many friends, family members, and fellow boaters in your community, it’s impossible to not wish it away from you. We had been watching Ian form and move over the Gulf and were hoping it did not set its sights directly on our home port of Pensacola like Hurricane Sally did in 2020. Our hearts and thoughts go out to those, however, who suffered damage from Ian in southern Florida last year. The storm was so big it brought its wrath all the way up the U.S. to Phillip and me and Ubiquitous in NY, thankfully only as a tropical storm/depression by then.
Even in its diminished capacity, Ian still kept us rained in on the boat in Brooklyn for days and extending our stay unexpectedly at ONE 15. Thankfully, no boats were coming and going in the heavy winds, rain, and sea state, so they had slips available to just let Ubiquitous stay safe and secure in her slip while Ian finally blew himself out. We were incredibly grateful. It wasn’t a cheap two-week stay, but it was a necessary one as there was no way we were going to take Ubi out in that gnarly mess. Although we did venture out to wash a few loads of clothes. Laundry day on Ubi be like …
For those of you curious about the attenuator and the wave action in ONE 15 Marina, Phillip and I found it was pretty rolly in the marina (albeit less than it would have been without the attenuator) and we did have to take into consideration that we had a pretty gnarly tropical storm roll through and sit on us for days while we were there which contributed to the wave action. But, for the view and convenience of the city—where we understandably spent more of our time as opposed to aboard Ubi—the tolerable motion was well worth it.
Once the weather cleared, Phillip and I got Ubi provisioned up (thank you Trader Joe’s!) and moved over to an anchorage near Coney Island to stage up for an offshore run from NY down to Norfolk, VA. It was fun to run into our friends, Jamie and Sheryl on s/v Pacific High—with whom we have spent time on many east coast anchorages: Beaufort, NC, Wrightsville Beach, NC, Charleston, SC, and (as featured in a not-so-long-ago blog) Martha’s Vineyard—in Coney Island and spend a fun afternoon on the hook together.
Check out Phillip in his “business up top, board shorts on the bottom” Cruising Lawyer getup. All evidence (on this blog) to the contrary, Phillip and I do work—often and a lot—while cruising. It’s all about the balance.
The last chore we were going to undertake before we headed offshore was going to be a bottom scrub (you know, to get that extra knot of speed!). Phillip and I had invested in a Brownie’s Third Lung air compressor dive unit to allow us to scrub Ubi’s bottom (more meticulously than by free-diving, which I am not good at … add it to my bucketlist), perform prop and shaft maintenance, and/or other bottom repairs, as well as dive deeper reefs when we find them. We found it was a solid investment for the performance. Simply crank the generator, turn on the inverter, plug the Brownie’s (110V) unit in and *BAM* you can breathe underwater and take all the time you need to make sure your boat’s bottom is safe, smooth, and pristine.
Just like that … except for Phillip and I, there was no Bam. There was no bottom job that day. Our generator would not crank. Hmmppfh. While we would always prefer to have one of our more critical power generation systems working smoothly before heading offshore, it wasn’t worth it to lose the weather window we had. We decided to leave our generator mystery for another day, head out into the Atlantic, and set our sights on Virginia.
In all, our stay in Brooklyn was convenient, exciting, and exceptionally memorable. It was not cheap, but it was worth it. If any of you venture through, let us know what you think. Next up on the blog, we’ll start our trek south last year and share with you our generator woes and a major fix we underwent in Virginia last fall. Stay tuned!
