Have Wind Will Travel

New faces?  Try 150 boats anchored at Black Point, Exumas for the OCC Rally.

New places? We fell in love with Chub Cay, Cambridge Cay, West Eleuthera, and Briland.

Same Bahamian Fun: Think traditional sloop races, fire dancers, kiting, snorkeling, piggies, Pauline the Mermaid, Stefan the Savage, and so much more.  Let’s dive in!

Feb-Mar 2024

After our 2024 cruising season started with a bang, we were grateful we had a spare riser/elbow to snap into place and keep on trucking.  We left the city dock in Jacksonville, FL where we’d accomplished our emergency repair and started dotting down the Florida coast to St. Augustine and West Palm Beach before making the jump to the Bahamas.  We found ourselves in Chub Cay by Valentine’s Day and were most definitely feeling the love!

Chub Cay 

I will say, before this year, I believe our favorite island group in the Bahamas was the Berries.  Phillip and I had spent time in Frazer’s Hog Cay—where we met the infamous Steve and Pat who built a house there and live part of the year.  Steve and Pat also enlightened us to Whale Cay and Bird Cay and the beautiful blue water and exceptional snorkeling and spearfishing there is right around Frazer’s Hog Cay.  We also really enjoyed Great Harbor Cay, where we spent a good bit of time and kept Plaintiff’s Rest when Hurricane Dorian struck in 2019. 

However, Phillip and I had never stopped at Chub Cay before so we were excited to try it this year, both as a new check-in spot, a new safe harbor for bad weather, a new marina, and … what we didn’t expect … our new favorite pool in all of the Bahamas.  That’s a pretty bold statement, trust me, as Phillip is a complete pool fanatic and a bit of a pool snob, understandably so when you see the pools he’s frequented.  With its infinity edge overlooking the ocean, its massive swim-up tiki bar, great tunes, incredible people watching, and full food service pool-side, I couldn’t get Phillip out of there.  Mainly because I, myself, wouldn’t leave, but that’s not the point. 

We also booked a dive with Chub Cay Divers, who took us around the shelf side of Whale Cay and along the outskirts of the Berries for some exceptional diving.  We saw a massive lobster.  His head was bigger than mine!  We also got to see a shark with some “new jewelry” (our dive master, Ana, explained).  She had a hook with a line hanging out of her mouth.  Guess she showed those fisherman who was NOT ready to be caught.  We also met some really fun folks (Boris and Angela) that we hung out with poolside post-dive.  We ended up spending about seven days at Chub to wait out some weather, but it was the perfect, easy, laid-back entry to the Bahamas.  We will definitely be back! 

Cambridge Cay, Exumas

We then made our way into the Exumas as we had something you should never have on a boat folks … a schedule!  For shame!  For the first time ever, we had a friend flying into the Bahamas to meet us: our good friend, Bridgett, whom I’ve mentioned here at HaveWind before.  We initially met Bridgett during our weekly forays (and let us never forget our famous Boozer Cruiser parties) at Ft. McRee near Pensacola and we’ve been enticing her to fly out to come visit us on Ubi ever since we started cruising the east coast in 2021.  She joined us in Newport last year and the Bahamas this year.  We had coordinated her trip to the Bahamas to coincide with the OCC Rally in Black Point which turned out to be a fabulous idea. 

Before Bridgett arrived, however, we ventured into new territory for us in the Exumas.  Previously, the furthest we had dipped our toes into the Exumas had been to Highbourne Cay and Warderick Wells, which is a stunning land and sea park, immaculately preserved, with lots of hiking and snorkeling.  This time we stayed on a mooring ball by Emerald Rock near Warderick Wells and really loved that area.  We also met some incredible new friends there who we stopped to talk to when we saw their haling port was Milton, Florida (that’s about 20 minutes from Pensacola).  “Small world!” we shouted at them as we dinghied up.  Rick and Terry in their Fontaine Pajot, Rogue Angel, became fast friends.  We spent time with them exploring Cambridge Cay (an exquisite island), floating around in Rachel’s Bath, snorkeling Rocky Dundas, kitesurfing (they made exceptional kite groupies), even swimming with sharks at Compass Cay!  I swam and kicked a lot harder than everyone else with the sharks, but I did get in (and tried my best not to pee … too much!).

Black Point, Exumas

This was going to be our first ever OCC Rally to participate in as well.  Phillip and I have really enjoyed being members of the OCC group.  The contacts you make and connections all over the world—all with helpful knowledge and a helping hand (or sometimes even a safe harbor) to offer—have been an invaluable asset.  We were also thrilled to be reuniting with OCC members and long-time friends and fellow Outbound owners, Leo and Diane, at the rally, who sailed in on their 2021 Outbound, Orion.  We got to meet up with some other friends from Milton, FL—Louis and Heather on s/v Viking—as well, and the five of us went to see the piggies (such a treat!) and snorkeled Thunderball Grotto with Bridgett.  It’s stunning in there.  Even prettier than most of the Bond girls, except Halle Berry (she was the best, don’t argue : ).  And, last but not least, we also ran into Josh and Jessie at Black Point aboard their gorgeous 1979 Kelly Peterson, Ling Ling, whom I recently wrote about in SAIL Magazine.  It was a time for reunions!

And, the party the Bahamians threw for the Rally!  Lordy!  There was dancing and a DJ every night, a pizza party one evening (Lorraine’s group made over 100 pizzas if you can believe it!), and a fire dancer and bonfire another evening, a mini-Junkanoo parade, etc.  And, that wasn’t even the real event.  They brought in traditional Bahamian sloop racing boats and Phillip and I got selected to help race on them.  Meaning, crawl out on the plank to be “rail meat” or hunker down low and get the heck out of the way as the boom came flying overhead.  Our team (the Lethal Weapons) beat Phillip’s.  Sorry, Phillip.  Those are just the facts. 

We also met some incredibly interesting people there at Black Point.  Pauline the Mermaid (we called her because it seems as if she glided right out of the ocean).  She was a solo sailor, a singer, a guitarist, a lyricist, a songwriter, an adventurer, and just a gentle, wise soul we had the privilege to meet.  She hosted a mini-concert one happy hour during the OCC Rally, and even a boat-side, dinghy-up name-changing ceremony for us all to enjoy.  Bridgett and I sang our hearts out (much to Phillip’s chagrin).  Then there was Stefan the Savage, a wicked kite surfer from South Africa who literally could not put his kite down.  If the wind was blowing 9 knots, he was out there trying to make anything work, often crashing his kite and haling for rescues, which is how we met.  If it was blowing a steady 15+ knot breeze, though, Stefan was out there tearing through the anchorage jumping over dinghies and flying high.  He was a happy mess.  Think Tigger on a kite.  Such a joy! 

In all, the weather for the OCC Rally was superb.  The turnout out was exceptional.  Over 150 boats bellied up to Black Point for the festivities.  And, Lorraine and her daughter and mother all helped with the events, one of which was a reed weaving contest – very exciting!  The fire dancer also really wowed us.  I am always awed and humbled by the creativity of the Bahamians, how they create costumes, decorations, and so many everyday things we take for granted out of things most people would throw away or recycle.  We spent a wonderful five days with Bridgett and the other OCC attendees before the party wrapped.  Then it was time to start slowly making our way back home.  Not before we stopped in our NEW favorite spot in the Bahamas, however.

Eleuthera (Cape Eleuthera, Hatchett Bay, Glass Window, and Briland)

After the OCC Rally, the weather really turned.  Many boats were looking for protection from a wicked front that was coming.  A dozen or more tried to hide near Big Majors with little luck as we heard the winds flipped several dinghies and caused some serious injuries.  We sailed over from Black Point with Leo and Diane on Orion (yes, they beat us, we’re not racers) and hunkered down in a small anchorage to the north of Staniel Cay, which was a very pretty, secure anchorage.  The four of us enjoyed a super swank dinner at Fowl Cay—one we can only afford once—before making our way to Cape Eleuthera.  This was another new marina for me and Phillip, which definitely wowed.  They have beaches on either side for sunrise, sunset, and several little restaurants.  We went kite-surfing on Sunrise Beach and Leo even caught some actions shots of me with his drone! 

Phillip and I had also never explored the western coast of Eleuthera.  We had really only ventured through Spanish Wells and Harbour Island before, which we did love.  Spanish Wells was probably our favorite island of all for a while, as it offers so much Bahamian authenticity, while also providing so many amenities (great restaurants, an exceptional grocery store, as well as boat parts, supplies, and services) and one of the prettiest beaches on the north shore.  So, it was a real treat to explore Hatchett Bay this time—a very protected anchorage on the west coast—with Emmett regaling us every night with his Bahamian originals.  Don’t worry, if you can’t make it to Emmett’s bar, you can hear him from the boat! 

We also anchored near the Glass Window, which we had never done before.  You’ll remember I got quite injured the last time we were at Eleuthera at the Queen’s Bath.  Needless to say, we didn’t do that one again.  But, the western side of the Glass Window was just stunning, serene and protected, with so much to explore by dinghy.  Back at Spanish Wells, Stefan the Savage showed up and we had a great time kiting and spearfishing.  Phillip and I kited our brains out and indulged at Papa’s Scoops (the local ice cream hole) as a reward.  Then we made our way over to Harbour Island, known locally as “Briland.”

I think both Phillip and I had forgot how much Briland has to offer.  Much like Spanish Wells, while it has its fair share of upscale restaurants and marinas, it also offers 100% authentic Bahamian culture, food, and activities.  I liked sitting at the tiki hut by the water watching them make conch salad—heaps of it!  The locals play dominos there and do their laundry as the same place we do.  There are a lot of little shops and stores where the Bahamians are selling their handmade trinkets and wares.  But, you can also venture toward the Atlantic side (with the pink beaches and horseback beach riding) and enjoy some incredibly upscale food options and the views!  My god.  The Atlantic beach is flat as a pancake for miles.  It’s just breathtaking.   Phillip and I anchored near the Ramona marina and really enjoyed our time there. 

Abacos

After Briland, we trickled up into the Abacos to frequent some of our favorite spots.  In Hopetown, we met up with Bob, best known to Pensacola, FL cruisers as “Babaloo,” whom I’ve mentioned here before.  That place is such a little gem, with its cute protected harbor, great shops and restaurants, weekly trivia at Cap’n Jacks, and the views from the lighthouse.  Hopetown never disappoints.  We stopped in Little Cay as well to visit with our friends Tom and Christy from Pensacola, before we zipped through Guyana Cay (for some Nippers fun!) and ended up at Green Turtle Cay with Rick and Terry again to round out our 2024 trek through the Bahamas.  No venture through the Abacos is complete for these Pensacola sailors, however, without stopping at Allans-Pensacola Cay and leaving our name on the signing tree … again! 

In all, it was an exceptional Bahamian cruise, filled with new faces, new places, but—are you ready for it?—the same ole Bahamian fun.  We’re excited to gear up to head back to the Bahamas in 2025, with plans to delve deeper into the Exumas and the Raggeds!  Are you coming?

When the Editor-in-Chief at SAIL Magazine—the talented and creative, Wendy Clarke—reached out to me about writing one of their Boats and Their People articles, I immediately knew what boat I wanted to feature: the capable, comfortable, proven cruising vessel that is a Kelly Peterson 44. I also secretly (although it’s out now ; ) wanted to collaborate with this adventurous writer and fellow cruiser I had met a few years back who boasts the perfect name for a sailor/world-traveler: Jessie Wilde! Jessie and her husband, Josh, live aboard their 1979 KP 44 most of the year while cruising and working remotely (for NASA!). Their boat is named Ling Ling, which means “very beautiful” in Mandarin. And, she is just that. You’ll see.

Josh and Jessie also undertook a daunting but exceptionally rewarding five-year refit of Ling Ling when they first purchased her back in 2015. Want to know more about their extensive refit list? I know you do! Be sure to pick up a copy SAIL Magazine’s October issue and check it out. I’ve included some more fun photos of Jessie and Josh and the impressive refit for their boat below that didn’t make it in the article, as well as a fun shot of the four of us together on Ubiquitous taken in the Bahamas this past spring. Us salty crew gotta stick together. Jessie, it was a real treat, and I’m thrilled with the way the piece turned out, much thanks to Wendy and her keen editor’s eye and unique touch. Thank you again to SAIL Magazine for sharing this incredible boat and her amazing “people.” Writing this piece was pure joy. : )

We last rendezvoused with Josh and Jessie at Black Point in the Exumas this past year when we were there for the OCC Rally in March of this year. Blog on our 2024 season in the Bahamas to come. Before that I believe we connected with Josh and Jessie in St. Augustine and West Palm Beach, Florida, and I know we will see these adventurous two again on the water next year. It’s a small cruising world out here. They are always wildly fun to be around, with tons of almost unbelievable stories, helpful insights, and inspiration. Jessie, Josh, thank your for collaborating with me on this piece. We can’t wait to see you two—and Ling Ling!—again soon!

Some more fun photos of Josh, Jessie, and Ling Ling both pre- and post-refit. Enjoy!

Where to begin?  For years and years, mine and Phillip’s “arch nemesis” on boats seemed to be davits, as we’ve had not ONE, but TWO incidents where they failed on us.  But, I’m starting to think we have a new foe.  We’ve had a time with it, I can tell you.  But, before we dig into the dirty, sooty saga, know that it’s all been resolved and we’re still cruising merrily along despite the upset.  (We always do!)  After we left our winter home in Brunswick, GA to start heading first to the Bahamas in the spring, then north to New England for the summer, our summer cruising season 2024 started out with a seemingly devastating bang. 

Leaving Brunswick, GA — February 2024:

It had been three long months, Ubi sat in the cold in Brunswick.  Don’t get me wrong.  It’s a fabulous place—I wrote all about it here—but it was cold, below freezing at times, and Ubi doesn’t like to sit anywhere! 

** Special thanks to my wonderful friend, Bridgett, who drove six hours (each way) with me to check on Ubi in the cold and keep her toasty when the temps dropped below freezing. Bridgett (and Gia!) we love you!! **

When February 2024 came, Phillip and I had been packing, planning, and practically itching to get cruising again.  We left early on a Thursday morning hoping to get a jump on the weather and make a nice 24-hour run south to St. Augustine, FL.  We tossed the lines and motored out under a gorgeous silky sunrise. 

Spirits and hopes were high as we motored out under the picturesque Sidney Lanier Bridge.  The wind was light but sailable and we enjoyed a nice day under a gentle breeze making good way south.  In the early afternoon, the winds started to die out, so we cranked our engine (an 80 hp Yanmar engine we lovingly named “Yannick”).  We were motor-sailing along for an hour or so when Phillip started to notice a bit of a sooty, diesel smell around the engine.  He lifted the companionway stairs to get access to the engine and smoke billowed out.  Of all the possible good things I could imagine to billow out of an engine room—a nice, rosy smell, a bright, inspiring light perhaps—smoke is not one.  Understandably alarmed, Phillip called out to me topside. 

“The engine is smoking,” he said.  In a calmer voice than I would have. 

“Smoking?!” I asked, not sure why, as I know what smoking means. 

We went down to investigate and an obvious grey exhaust was piling out from under the companionway stairs, but it seemed impossible to find its source.  However, finding our engine in this state not one day into the very start of our cruising season was, to say the least, disheartening.  But, from years of cruising (which can also be called “boats breaking down in exotic places”) we know sometimes a seemingly really bad sign can be a simple problem and easy fix.  Of course, this also means the opposite can also be true—i.e., a seemingly easy problem may actually be an indicator of a much more substantial, costly fix.  For the moment, Phillip and I were remaining calm, trying to find the source of the smoke that should have been captured in Yannick’s exhaust system and expelled out the back of the boat with the hot water from the heating system, but it was not. 

We opened up the lazarette on the starboard side, which is the workshop on Ubi, providing access to the generator, water maker, all the tools, fluids, spares, supplies, etc., as well as the prop shaft, engine muffler and exhaust hose, and the Raycor fuel filters. 

As soon as we opened the lid, smoke began puffing out.  Thinking it was somehow escaping from the fat exhaust hose that came off the elbow connected to the riser, Phillip had me try to wrap rescue tape around and around the joint hoping to stop the spew, but the exhaust was too thick to breathe and the tape wasn’t sticking and holding (probably due to operator error as it was a very hard, hot spot to try to wiggle my sweaty fingers in to snake the tape around). 

The engine was holding temp just fine, which was a good sign.  Whatever exhaust leak we had, it seemed pretty minor for now and it was enabling us to keep making way.  The question was where we were going to go considering our new smoky status as it no longer seemed prudent to continue on overnight to St. Augustine with light winds and a puffing engine.  Jacksonville was five (5) nautical miles away, the closest port.  Phillip and I debated calling Boat U.S. to be towed into Jacksonville but we always approach that as a last measure.  Other than the mess and unpleasantness of spewing exhaust, which was contained under the companionway stairs but now billowing out of the open starboard lazarette, Yannick was purring along just fine, holding temp and easily moving the boat at 6 knots toward safety. 

Right or wrong, we decided to puff on in and find the nearest dock or anchorage location we could to to get sorted.  Mind you, we’d never been into Jacksonville by sailboat before, ever.  Of course.  Always a good time to try our hand at a new inlet.  Hooray!

As luck (good or bad) always does, it played a huge role for us.  We still had the sails up and some wind filled in just as we were motoring into the Jacksonville inlet that was really moving us fast.  We also, by sheer happenstance, caught the tide coming in, so it was working with us, and we zipped right in the inlet making 8.5 knots.  That was wild.  We saw an empty T-dock that luckily offered enough depth for us to dock at a public boat ramp, and we had long ago decided we were after only forgiveness, not permission, in order to get Ubi safely docked.  We glided in, tied up, and turned Yannick off so he could cool, and we could figure out what the heck we were going to do. 

We were also lucky it was a Thursday so we had one more business day ahead of us to perhaps get a mechanic out to help.  We were lucky that the first mechanic we could find in the nearby area via Google was both a Yanmar certified dealer and—far more importantly—he answered the phone AND agreed to stop by the next day to drop us off some spare exhaust hose from his truck.  We thought perhaps the hose between the elbow and the muffler was our culprit, that it had somehow split or otherwise been compromised, and if we replaced it that would solve our exhaust problem.  We poked around the engine some after we docked, but it was too hot to touch anywhere so we couldn’t do an effective search for the faulty part in our exhaust system.  It was also getting late into the evening at this time and we were beat from the stressful day.  Phillip and I made a hand-to-mouth dinner and some stiff drinks and pored over diesel manuals and Nigel Calder books before crashing hard on the dock in Jacksonville.

Feeling a bit fresher the next morning and with Yannick cooled down to touch-temps, we were able to do a deeper inspection on Friday morning.  Just looking around the workroom on Ubi was distressing.  She was covered in a layer of obstinate soot that took 12-20 passes with a Magic Eraser just to get it to ease up.  Cleaning Ubi after all of this was going to be a monstrous chore.  Two photos below show her clean on the left and sooty on the right. : (

But, more important than the mess, was the source.  We needed to find the problem, pronto. 

Phillip started tracing the exhaust system from start to finish.  When he got to the point where the riser bolts onto the engine block, he could feel the problem without even seeing it.  He instructed me to run my hands along the same area.  I could feel it, too, and could even get my head and camera in enough to get a good picture of it. 

It felt both good to find the problem—Step One—but also devastating to find that it was a cracked engine part. This was not something that hose, or rescue tape, or clamps, or goo would fix.  This was the type of failure that can put an end to your cruising season if you’re not prepared for it, or if you run into bad luck or delays trying to source a fix for it.  The riser had cracked at the weld where its tube meets the flange that bolts onto the engine.  Meaning, it was still bolted on to the engine block, but it had cracked off. 

The riser/elbow was completely out of commission.  There was no easy way to repair this riser/elbow and simply keep on trucking.  It needed to be re-welded, if that was even a possibility, to make it perform again.  This was a substantial failure.  However, we did have one very good (bad?) thing going for us.  Phillip and I always say on the boat: “The easiest problem to fix on the boat is one you’ve fixed before.”  This might have prompted you to ask: “Have Phillip and Annie dealt with a busted riser/elbow before on Ubi?”  The answer? 

Yes, yes we have.  In fact, the riser/elbow we were looking at now, with the cracked flange, was only 2.5 years old.  Far younger than it should have been to suffer typical riser/elbow build-up and failure, much less a catastrophic crack.  But, the sole reason we had a replacement riser/elbow on the boat in Jacksonville, simply waiting to be bolted into place, was because we had dealt with a riser/elbow failure before, one that almost stopped our cruising season back in 2021.  Do you remember?  I’ll share an extremely truncated refresher:  

Our Riser/Elbow Saga — Sep-Oct 2021:

It all started with an attempt to be good little boaters and simply do some preventative maintenance.  When our pre-purchase survey on Ubiquitous showed a rusty riser/elbow on our 80 hp Yanmar (4JH80), it was recommended to have it pulled and inspected, so we did.  I think my face expertly expresses our impression of the riser/elbow after we removed it. 

It appeared to be in rough shape, so we decided to have a new riser/elbow fabricated to replace it.  Know that the Yanmar in our Outbound 46 is computer-designed to fit inside of our engine space (under the companionway stairs); meaning, there is hardly an inch to spare in our engine room.  For that reason, the riser/elbow is a custom fit to each Outbound, not a part provided by Yanmar.  Hence, the reason we had to have a new one fabricated to fit our specific engine space. 

We sent our rust-bomb riser/elbow off, from Annapolis, MD, where we first took possession of Ubi, to an expert fabricator in Virginia in September, 2021.  He did an exceptional job.  However, in the process of shipping both the old and new riser/elbow back to us, a terrible thing happened.  UPS lost the package.  Oops.  They lost it.  A huge, heavy package with two engine pieces in it!  Phillip and I called their help line—screaming “Speak.  To.  A.  Huuuuummman!” so often it makes me sick thinking about it—for weeks, to no avail.  The package was irretrievably lost.  This left us with both a custom hole in our engine room that only an expert fabricator could fill and just a few short weeks to fill it, before winter closed in on us in Annapolis and left Ubi wrapped on jacks for the winter: our first winter owning her!  Unacceptable.  So, what were our options?

Our fabricator in Virginia was having surgery, so he was out.  Collection Yachts, who now builds the Outbounds, is located in Xiamen, China, which was on national holiday.  Locally, in Annapolis, we were just weeks away from the Annapolis Boat Show, which meant every marine service provider in the greater Annapolis was booked solid for months.  Uggghhhh.  I got desperate.  I got scared.  I got cookies, and started running around Jabin’s Ship Yard begging anyone who could help us.  After multiple strike-outs and hard Nos, I finally got lucky and found a fabricator who had a job fall through, leaving him a few days’ worth of time to spare, and he offered it to us.  Hallelujah! 

The same day—I swear I cannot make this craziness up—Collection had spoke with the owner of the newest Outbound, which was going to be in the Annapolis Boat Show, and he was willing to sell us his spare riser/elbow and have Collection make him a new one.  We didn’t even know this guy—we’re now lucky to call him, Leo, and his lovely wife, Diane, on s/v Orion friends—and he offered to save our necks at the buzzer. 

Phillip and I couldn’t believe both our bad luck AND good luck.  We now had a brand-new riser/elbow being fabricated for us AND a Collection riser/elbow coming to us via “Sistership Shipping!” Phillip aptly named it.  We will never trust UPS with boat parts, or perhaps anything, ever again. 

The fabricated riser/elbow was completed and installed first.  We stashed the Sistership elbow on the boat and Phillip and I tossed the lines and headed south as fast as we could in October 2021 to escape the freeze.  We dubbed it our “September to Remember.”  It was a saga worthy of print in SAIL Magazine.  If you’re intrigued, you can read more details about our 2021 saga in Part One and Part Two on the blog and in the Sistership Shipping article that ran in SAIL Magazine. 

Ubi cruised up and down the East Coast and to both the Bahamas and New England two years in a row with that riser/elbow until … February 8, 2024. 

Our Riser/Elbow Fix – February 2024:

Meanwhile in Jacksonville … Once Phillip and I realized our problem was the riser/elbow, we removed the busted riser and its cracked flange (the two being now completely separated), and we pulled out the spare riser/elbow that Leo had sailed to us in Annapolis on Orion back in 2021 and started mocking it up.  Because we had done this process before (several times) during our 2021 fiasco, we were fairly experienced with it.  We removed the turbo charger from the port side of the engine, as this makes the mock-up and swap-out much easier.  The riser/elbow from Leo looked to be a good fit visually.  Phillip and I took big heaping breaths and hoped for the best. 

During this time, we also heard from the mechanic we had called the night before.  He was coming by to drop off our spare hose, but there was no way we were going to let him get away from the boat without begging him to help us with the swap-out.  Phillip and I have become pretty proficient mechanics in our years cruising, but I wouldn’t call us professional diesel mechanics by any means, and certainly not Yanmar-certified ones.  We were thrilled to have this mechanic—whose name, I kid you not, is Angel; he was indeed our angel—come aboard to handle our repair or at least supervise. 

Angel got a laugh when we showed him the problem: our cracked riser/elbow.  “Yeah, that’ll do it,” he said.  Angel set right to work removing the hoses and other parts needed to install the new riser/elbow.  Phillip diligently handed Angel tools and watched him work while I spent about six hours scrubbing the soot-covered workroom in the starboard lazarette and engine room interior (working around the boys) trying to get Ubi cleaned up. 

Phillip and I held our breath as Angel maneuvered the turbo charger back into place—a critical moment we knew from our efforts in 2021—to complete the install.  Angel had to wedge and smash and curse a little (perhaps a lot) to get it in there with the charger, but when he deemed our replacement operation complete, we were thrilled.  We cranked Yannick up and shouted at the tops of our lungs as he purred inside the hull, with not a whiff of smoke coming out of him.  The new riser/elbow was working beautifully, and we were ready to toss the lines and continue our cruise having only lost a day’s voyage and suffered a busted riser/elbow. 

Some photos from the days after our sooty saga. We were able to keep on trucking and make our way down to St. Augustine, just as planned, only a day behind. Who can complain about that outcome considering the catastrophe we were facing.

I share this story because the only reason we had a spare riser/elbow on board the boat, just in case of an emergency, is because we had dealt with a faulty (okay, missing counts as faulty) riser/elbow before.  A spare riser/elbow is not something many cruisers carry aboard.  Although every sailor would like to, you just cannot, in reality, carry an entire spare boat with you when you cruise.  And, I can assure you, a spare riser/elbow is not something Phillip and I used to carry aboard Plaintiff’s Rest. 

So, the only reason we were so well-prepared for this upset and able to get it fixed and carry right back on with our cruise is precisely because of the infuriating saga we had dealt with before.  The lesson: sometimes (or maybe all times) whatever infuriating saga you are currently working your way through is likely educating and preparing you to expertly navigate a similar saga down the road with the beauty of wisdom and, if you’re lucky, the lifeline of having the right spare parts or tools on board. 

So, take those infuriating sagas in stride, knowing they are only making you stronger, wiser, and more prepared.  Say “thank you” and keep on cruising.  And, remember:

Good to know about the bears.  Watch out for those.  Be safe out there, folks.  : )

I would call Phillip and I fairly new “East Coast Cruisers.”  We’ve bumped up and down the east coast since we got Ubiquitous in 2021—so, about three years now (and we’re doing it again as I write this).  But, we know some cruisers who have done it for 20, 30, even more years.  The places to stop, savor, and explore seem infinite.  We follow the lovely temps down south in the winter—to the point that we’re often in bikinis and board shorts, calling it “summer”—and up to glorious New England for the “summer”—which usually puts us occasionally in our foulies and fleeces, calling it “winter.”  This pattern also coincides with our goal to stay out of the hurricane box during hurricane season, a nice bonus. 

However, there are times when we need to park the boat to head back home (Pensacola, FL for us) to handle work matters, family stuff, medical appointments, all that fun stuff.  This is exactly where we left you last time on the blog, after spending some fabulous time in Norfolk, Charleston, and (new for us) Beaufort, SC, we were looking for a safe place to button Ubi up for a couple of months.  As fairly new East Coast Cruisers, we’ve been trying a few different safe harbors along the coast and I believe one of our now new favorites—recommended to us by many cruisers—is Brunswick Landing Marina in Brunswick, Georgia, also just a short drive (or even bike ride) from the exquisite “Golden Isles” of Georgia: St. Simons, Jekyll, Sea, and Little St. Simons.  We found many (many!) reasons to love this area.  But, for brevity’s sake, I’ll just share ten.  Ten Reasons Why We Love BLM and the Golden Isles.

November 2023 — January 2024

Number One: Protection

The most important: it is super protected.  A former Navy hurricane hole, the marina has land mass on three sides and a heavy duty wave attenuator, protecting both the docks and boats.  They also have well-maintained concrete floating docks with tall pilings for storm surge.  As a testament to its superior protection, when Hurricane Irma rolled over bringing winds over 70, driving rain, and an 8.5 foot storm surge with the tide, out of 341 full slips at the time, the only damage reported at the marina was one head sail that had not been secured.  Also, while being protected, it’s not a 5-hour motor in either.  About an hour and a half and you’re back out in the Atlantic.  There is also only one bridge you have to navigate but it’s 165 feet, so no trouble and it’s gorgeous to travel under. There is also no real current at the marina to battle.  Phillip and I felt very comfortable leaving Ubiquitous there for a couple of months over the winter. 

Number Two: Location—Planes, Priuses, and Insurance

While none of us like the reality that insurance governs when and where we travel, it simply does.  Brunswick Landing Marina is one of the last safe harbors north of the Florida-Georgia line where boat owners can keep their boat insured until November 1st, when hurricane season ends and the fleet can then start sailing south.  When Phillip and I were staying on the boat in Brunswick it never failed, every cruiser we met in the laundry, walking the grounds, in local restaurants, at the marina happy hours, etc., when asked “Where you headed next?” 99% of folks said the Bahamas after November 1st, specifically the Exumas.  Because the place is so perfectly located for insurance purposes, it feels like a mass exodus in the winter.  This does mean the place books up solid during hurricane season, but plan early and it’s worth it.  Also, there is an airport in Brunswick (just a short 15-minute drive, we hired a very professional, friendly driver) which connects to Atlanta so flying in or out all over the country is a breeze.  We also chose Brunswick specifically for our purposes because we could drive back and forth to the boat from Pensacola in just six hours.  We packed the Prius up and hauled all kinds of stuff both ways.  It was very handy.  And, they have expansive dockside parking so many cruisers bring their cars there (and they’re often happy to share them for a day and carpool for errands).

Number Three: Mostly Pleasant Weather

With very few exceptions, we found the weather in Brunswick over the winter could get cold, but it rarely freezes.  Boats sitting in the water typically have no problem staying warm and snug throughout the winter.  We kept a temperature activated space heater on Ubi (with a tip-over safety shutoff) just in case and, with the exception of one abnormal freeze) were able to leave her unattended and safe during the winter.  There are also no trees close enough to drop leaves (or branches) on the boats in heavy winds.  Aside from the bugs, gnats mostly that like to eat you alive in windless summer days, the weather it typically shorts and t-shirts and sunny through most of the spring, summer, and fall.  Comparing this option to Annapolis, which we considered, where we would have to wrap and winterize Ubi for the winter, this was a fantastic alternative. 

Number Four: Friendly, Incredibly Helpful Staff

The dockmaster and staff at BLM simply “get it.”  They know boaters and they know what’s important to us.  We want help getting into the fuel dock and our slip.  Then we promptly want to throw our trash away, get water, log onto fast internet, and wash our clothes.  We also want packages shipped, which the marina is happy to accept.  Dan and Kyle in the marina office helped us out many times, even coming aboard Ubiquitous at one point when we had an alarm going off that needed investigating.  They also operate live-feed cameras on all the docks so you can check on your boat from afar.  And, they keep each gate locked with fob key access for cruisers so it’s secure.  Like I said, they just get us and they never make you feel like you’re a burden.  They also work very hard to maintain clean grounds, empty trash cans, working washing machines and dryers, and (probably the most important) happy hours three times a week with free booze.  I mean … Yes, let’s just go there, shall we?

Number Five: Free Laundry and Other Impressive Amenities

You read that right.  The laundry is 100% free.  No coins or tokens or card-reading machines charging $4.00 or more per wash and dry.  They also have three laundry facilities, each with multiple machines so wait times are short or non-existent.  You can also check out their marina bikes for free via their app and bike all over.  Phillip and I even biked all the way over to St. Simons Island and spent a lovely day.  BLM has a dog park and dog-friendly facilities.  The “Yacht Club” facility in the center of the marina (on Dock 9) blew my mind when I opened the door.  At many marinas you may find one lumpy couch, a couple worn Dean Koontz or Danielle Steels in the book swap, a broken washer, and a water fountain.  At BLM, the Yacht Club presents more like a resort lobby—expansive and welcoming.  They have an impressive selection of DVDs to watch on their big screen, a book swap that looks like a library, organized by letter, a half-done jigsaw puzzle anyone can work on at any time, a small gym, it’s just incredible.  I was blown away.  Then, I learned they use this space to host a happy hour not once a week.  Not twice.  But three times.  A brave move inviting thirsty cruisers up there three times a week.  But, that’s just the tip of the social iceberg. 

Number Six: Social Butterflies Flourish Here

I would sometimes find myself standing by the bulletin board announcing the upcoming “events” at the marina simply in awe of everything they came up with and put together.  This is just a list of what I can remember:

·      Ladies Luncheons

·      Bingo night

·      Jam sessions (BYO … Guitar!)

·      Paw Parties (doggie play dates)

·      Yoga

·      All sorts of Arts & Crafts – cupcake decorating, jewelry making, cross-stitching and embroidery lessons,

·      Book Clubs

These are all in addition to the Yacht Club Happy Hour not once a week, or twice a week, but THREE times a week every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday evenings where free wine and beer are provided.  I mean … [insert mind-blown emoji here].  They also usually come up with a fun food theme for the Happy Hour (optional whether you want to bring food or not – if you bring you eat; if you don’t – you eat, no one cares).  The times we went the themes were bacon, jalapeño, and “something creative on a cracker.”  Phillip and I met many new friends and, not surprising, several folks who knew our boat Ubiquitous (that happens a lot, she’s kind of famous).  We also had a great time bringing several friends along with us, including the former owners of Ubiquitous, Jim and Ann who made a detour to see us (and primarily Ubi! Ha!) last fall.  What I love about this incredibly social aspect, though, is it allows you to be as social as you want (or don’t want).  You’ll learn which one of us is the more social one in the next section.  Ready on! 

And I must mention here (in the social section) what wonderful friends we have — Stephen and Beth (I’ve written about these two salty sailors, exceptional comrades on the blog before) — who drove Phillip and I (and our boatloads of stuff) from Pensacola over to Brunswick and back several times. Thanks again SB!!

Number Seven: Community

On any given day, I would come across cruisers helping one another—offering their car, lifting heavy packages, sharing tools, coming over to help troubleshoot a boat problem, going up someone’s mast, helping with lines on the dock, donating some great, lightly used goods to the donation pile, you name it.  The minute you get settled in at BLM, you find yourself among 100+ friendly, helpful cruisers eager to talk about your boat problems (and share theirs – it is quid pro quo) but also offer their help, knowledge, and experience.  You would never feel alone here, even if you tried (and trust me, I’ve tried!).  Being the more anti-social of the two of us (Phillip will surprise you with his lust for a cruiser gathering!) I found I couldn’t shake their good nature and genuine offers for help, so I quit trying.  Ha! 

Number Eight: Georgia’s Exquisite Golden Isles

I will admit, I had no idea the coast of Georgia was so preserved, pristine, and … well, just beautiful.  Live oaks sprawl, thrive, and arch over the roads creating wooded canopies laced with Spanish Moss.  The marshy grasslands are green in the summer, turning gold in the fall (hence the “Golden Isles” title I presume – don’t correct me if I’m wrong).  They look like golden wheat fields with sparkling waterways snaking through.  The coastline looks very different than Florida or the Bahamas but boasts their own unique breed of beauty.  There are four barrier islands: St. Simons, Sea Island, Jekyll, and Little St. Simons and they all offer breathtaking stretches of marshland, idyllic downtowns, great shopping and restaurants, and plenty to explore.  We visited St. Simons and Jekyll and drank it in.  Many folks travel here to vacation because it’s so stunning.  We found their driftwood beach breathtaking and had a great time walking the beaches with fellow cruisers and very good friends who drove us over to Georgia several times for a visit. 

Number Nine: Walkable Destinations—Reid’s, 1509, Thai Basil, Schroeder’s, Fox’s Pizza, Silver Bluff Brewery

After Phillip and I got Ubi settled in her slip at BLM our first mission was to explore on foot. I will readily admit this is one of my favorite aspects of cruising. Setting off on foot to explore a new city, port, area. I love finding each new port’s little coffee shop, bookstore, restaurants, trinket shops, parks, etc. and just getting a feel of the “vibe” of the place. After perusing just a few blocks from the marina in downtown Brunswick (which itself is beautiful with lots of old buildings and homes, little parks, and quaint streets), Phillip and I found several gems that only kept surprising us and offering more to eat, drink, and savor at each place. We’ve already been to all of these at least several times and are still looking forward to coming back.

Reid’s Apothecary: a swank, upscale eatery (we like it best for lunch) with exceptional food and a very cool speakeasy-style “Study” in the back for late-night fun.

1509 Steak House: a high-quality restaurant with cocktails, appetizers, and main dishes that will knock your socks off, not to mention an outdoor/rooftop area that offers great live music and an incredible view of Brunswick and the marina.

Basil Thai: hands-down best Thai soup I’ve ever had, and their entrees (pad thai, drunken noodles, all the curries, etc.) are phenomenal for a great price and quick, satisfying Thai food.

Schroeder’s Market: we ate here the most, it is an exceptional little lunch spot (family run and owned) offering fresh, inventive specials every day and little grocery items you can buy (think limited fresh produce and lots of unique spices, pastas, herbs, teas, and wine), plus incredible pastries, cookies, brownies, scones, I could go on … I had to keep Phillip away from this place at times.

Fox’s Pizza: consistently good, affordable pizza that offers a great option after a long day of boat chores that pairs well with a desire to not cook and have a lazy, stuff-your-face dinner.

Silver Bluff Brewery: awesome venue indoors and out with a great variety of homemade brewskies as well as trivia nights and other fun events.

But, don’t worry, I saved the BEST walkable option for last. We are sailors, remember? ; )

Number Ten: Richland Rum Distillery

Saving the best for last.  Phillip and I were simply taking our first stroll down the main strip—Newcastle Street—when Phillip literally choked on his Silver Bluff beer and shouted.  “Holy hell!”  I about dropped mine trying to find out what the hell he was so excited about.  But right there, on the downtown strip was a gem we would have never dreamed to have found within walking distance of our boat.  A rum distillery?!  Are you kidding me?  And, not just any rum distillery.  It is an estate rum.  Meaning, they grow their own sugarcane for the sole purpose of making Richland Rum.  They’ve been in business for twenty years, with two distilleries in Richland and Brunswick, Georgia.  Their barrel aging and distilling process makes a variety of different rum tastes and colors (called “expressions”).  Our favorites were their white rum which tastes like a high-end tequila (crazy, but it does) and the “Pineapple Express” cocktail they made with it.  You have to go there to try it and get the recipe (it’s quite cruiser-friendly! : ).  We also loved their top-shelf XO dark rum which was super refined and went down like smooth syrup.  Phillip and I booked a tour of the distillery, which we loved, bought multiple bottles (which are all gone now) and their flights of rum, and took several friends there to share the rum bliss.  We couldn’t believe we stumbled on such a dream just a walk away from our boat’s safe and happy home for the winter. 

In all, Phillip and I (and Ubi!) were impressed and thrilled with the protected, affordable, accommodating, and exciting “digs” we found for our boat at Brunswick Landing Marina and the surrounding area.  If you haven’t yet been, check the place out and tell the staff we said hello!  Hope to see some of you there someday.

When a pirate looks at 50, what does he see?  

It’s not a trick question.  His (or her) life.  The years that have gone by and how they were spent.  Every time I scroll through old photos to compile the collage that will become my next HaveWind blog, I feel … well.  Proud.  Proud of how I’ve spent—and continue to spend—my time.  It takes some sacrifice and commitment (and periods of uncomfortableness and unknown and telling friends and family “I don’t know when I’ll be back”) to embrace this cruising lifestyle, but the rewards are infinite.  As my kaleidoscope past flickers by me, I’m always surprised at how much Phillip and I squeezed in—both work and play, exploring and enjoying, discovering and overcoming.  

After we left our temporary buddy boaters—Peter and Patty on Serendipitous and Jimmy Buffett’s stomping grounds in the Long Island Sound back in September, 2023, Phillip and I got busy.  In October-November, we laid down some offshore miles and laid Ubi up on the hard for some bottom (and other) work.  We rounded Hatteras (making it another Happy Hattereen!) then pillaged Charleston in our Halloween costumes.  And, we explored new territory for us on the eastern coast (Beaufort, SC), a sleepy, sweepy nostalgic southern city, which also allowed us to explore a place full of memories for Phillip: Parris Island.  Oorah!  Have any of you cruised this area?  If not, come along with us!

October, 2023

After cruising slowly down the Long Island Sound, we stayed for a bit again in Port Washington—our absolute favorite port for exploring NYC.  Port Wash is a safe, beautiful, convenient city for cruisers with a well-kept, affordable mooring field where Ubi can remain safe while we make the short walk and a 40-minute ($12) train ride to the City?  Yes, please!  When we leave Port Wash, our cruise through the East River is always an enjoyable day as well, taking in the City from a different angle and admiring the architecture of the bridges and buildings as we motor by, under, and through.  

We had our sights set on Little Creek, VA where we planned to haul out (for the first time) at Cobb’s, a shipyard several cruisers had told us they had used and trusted.  As relatively new east coast cruisers (it is only mine and Phillip’s third year to do it—compared to friends we have who have been doing it for 20+ years), we have had to find new trusted marine vendors along the way.  To do this, we rely heavily on advice and recommendations from cruiser friends we trust.  Several Outbound owners and other long-time cruiser friends told us they had used Cobb’s and were very pleased with their work and reliability, two of the most important elements of a marine vendor experience.  In the end, I can tell you, Cobb’s exceeded our expectations on both counts.     

We hauled mid-October in need of new bottom paint, maintenance of our Auto Prop, and a spiffy hull shine-up for Ubi, who certainly deserved it.  We were thrilled to find the entire crew at Cobb’s was efficient, immediately responsive to our needs, and promised a timeline (just over a week) that really shocked us.  Lurching out of the water, Ubi’s bottom had plenty of soft growth but otherwise looked really good after the high-pressure spray down.  Some of her bottom paint appeared to be wiped off (particularly at the water line), but the team at Cobb’s advised us that was a sign of frequent cleaning and that the paint was performing exactly as it should, which gave us more peace of mind.  The last time we’d had the bottom painted had been in August 2021 back at Jabin’s in Annapolis.  Finding ourselves in exceptional hands, Phillip and I flew home to Pensacola, FL to take care of some work and personal things and visit with friends and family. 

We called on Dr. Roderick with King Propulsion, with whom we had worked in 2021 when we rebuilt our Auto Prop (among about a-hundred other little projects) while we had been hauled out. Here is a pic of our prop in 2021.

Roderick was prompt and helpful again, and even personally delivered the kit for regreasing and replacing the zinc on our Auto Prop to Cobb’s himself, as he lives near the Norfolk, VA area.  We were thrilled to see the tedious work the team at Cobb’s had done on our prop in our absence, also replacing the broken cutter on our shaft just as a matter of course.  

Charles, at Cobb’s, was an incredibly lively fellow who spent extra time spiffing up Ubi’s hull with fantastic results.  I could pick something out of my teeth, if needed, in her reflection!  It almost makes you not want to splash her because she’s going to get salty, slimy, and dirty.  Almost … that’s what she’s built to do.  Splash that salty gal!  

On October 25th we landed in Norfolk around noon and, as promised, Cobb’s had completed their work and were ready to splash us—that very day!  Damn she looked good. As soon as we had slung our bags onto the boat, they removed the ladder, and the Travelift was ready to carry Ubi to the water for her splash.  Cobb’s had made us a promise about the timeline and cost and they kept it.  That, alone, is a huge mark in their favor.  

We had a great experience at Cobb’s and really appreciate their attention to detail, our timeline, and our budget.  They even found us a slip for the evening so we could provision up and get ready to round Hatteras … the next day.  When Mother Nature grants you a weather window—particularly for such a treacherous part of the Atlantic—you take it!  

We were expecting light winds.  12 knots or less, that would be just on the beam or slightly aft, allowing us a beam reach, but we figured we would have to motor a good bit.  Never a problem when the goal is to get safely around Hatteras.  That’s a motor passage we’ll take any day.  In all, we had a great run and tucked in safely at Cape Lookout for a rest after our 30-ish hour trip.  And, we had a pod of dolphins—whom we consider our personal good omen ambassadors—give us quite a show at the bow as Ubi sliced through the green waters, eager to make her way south!

We love that Cape Lookout offers such a big easy inlet to navigate and a huuuuuggge anchorage that usually offers plenty of room with little to no worry about other boats.  I’ve talked more about our experienced at Cape Lookout here.

Not to mention it’s a beautiful anchorage and shoreline to walk and explore and find the coolest shells.  But, the stop this past fall was just to rest and keep on trucking the next day (when we expected a bit more wind) headed to Charleston. We planned to anchor near the Yorktown where we typically land) with the exciting goal to spend our favorite holiday of the year there: Halloween!  We already had our costumes packed and planned.  Any guesses before I reveal?  

Don’t look back at the title … 

What?  You did!  That’s alright.  We’ll still count your guess.  You got it!  I Dream of Jeannie!  

Phillip was the genie (I’m kidding … although that would have been funny).  I dawned the skimpy veils and silk, and he portrayed a spot-on Major Healey.  Any hard-core IDOJ fans out there want to tell us where we went wrong?  It took Phillip and I half the night, and a few strange looks from fellow costumers, before we realized we’d gotten it wrong.  I guess Jeannie had strayed a little in our version and hooked up with Captain Nelson’s sidekick, Roger Healey.  Ha!  We got a good laugh at our mistake halfway through the evening and started playing it up.  Had ourselves a fabulous time drinking our dressed-up selves through the lively streets of Charleston on Halloween night.  Even found the whole Princess lineup from Disney and had a great time at the Cocktail Club with these vivacious ladies.  Don’t you just love a holiday centered around skimpy costumes?  We do!  

After our festive romp through Charleston, we started making our way south and decided this year to try a couple of new spots to us on the coast—primarily Beaufort, SC, which we had always heard great things about but we knew it was a long haul deep into the coast (about four hours in, four hours out, which is what had deterred us before).  But, this year, we decided to make an inland adventure out of it and take the ICW in for a bit, with a planned stop anchored near Monkey Island (aka Morgan Island).  Here: 

Any of you ever heard of this spot?  The monkeys were quite active and came to the shoreline around sunset to explore and see what Ubiquitous was up to.  We had fun listening to them over cocktails and enjoying the serenity of the anchorage.  

I also decided to knock out a project I’d had on my list for a bit: sewing leather chafe guards onto Ubi’ davits where our dinghy (aptly named Ducky!) rubs when we cinch her up.  We’d tried pool noodles and other chafe materials for years with mixed (often aesthetically tacky) results.  Then I had the idea to use the “Boat Leather” kit we had previously ordered and sewn onto the helm of our old boat, Plaintiff’s Rest.  

Tom at Boat Leather had a great kit that I simply cut in half (down from 15” to 2 x 7” inch pieces, roughly), with pre-made holes for the stitching and foam provided to provide Ducky that extra little cushion.  I was very pleased with the outcome.  A much sleeker, more aesthetic result, with a product that is infinitely heartier than pool noodles.  They will also never budge, and they blend right in on our stainless steel davits.  Win win.  Thank you again, Tom!  

After one night at Monkey Island (the monkeys finally quieted down after sunset), we weighed anchor and made our way inland on the ICW toward Beaufort, SC.  That was a lovely day.  These back parts of the ICW along the Carolina and Georgia coasts are quiet exquisite—lovely golds, browns, and blues.  We felt a little like Huck Finn making our way down the Mississippi, snaking through golden beds of marsh grass and navigating old trusses and turn-style bridges.  

It really was a lovely motor day.  But, I have mentioned motoring quite a bit, haven’t I?

By the time we got to Beaufort, SC, we had run up against our Yanmar (Yannick’s) 250 hour mark for his oil change.  We had picked up this nifty TRAC pump at the Defender store back in New London, CT the past summer that we were keen to use.  It seemed like the perfect, small-quantity, pump with a long narrow hose (which we shove down the dipstick tube) that we felt would work perfect to suck all of the dirty oil out of Yannick’s oil basin and allow us to easily dump the nasty oil into an old oil container for safe transport to shore for disposal.  Yes, we get excited about nifty little devices like this that make maintaining our lovely boat easier, and therefore our life aboard more enjoyable.  In all, we were very pleased with the TRAC pump and look forward to using it again.  As I write this, we’ve got about another 80 or so hours to go before we’ll whip that little prize possession out again for another suck session.  Yannick deserves it!  

With all of our chores done, it was finally time to set foot ashore this throwback in time we’d heard so much about: “Beautiful Beaufort,” SC (that little trick helps me remember Beaufort, SC is “b-you-fort”—like the word “beautiful”—and Beaufort, NC is “bow-fort”).  For all my fellow blondes out there: You’re welcome.

B-you-fort.  What a mesmerizing little city.  I found I kept staring upward into the sweepy maze of Spanish moss that seemed to dangle from every single branch of every single live oak—and there were hundreds of them, just in the little 8-block radius we walked day after day.  Most of the houses in the historic district look like they haven’t changed since the plantation days.  Huge white columns on the front, long stretching lawns, oaks with branches that stretch out like an octopus.  Some branches even dip back down into the ground, only to pop back out again like a Lochness monster.  It was unreal.  I could have walked those neighborhoods for three more days and still have found new things to look at.  It was just such a different feel than so many other coastal towns.  Maybe being tucked up so deep inland had helped to preserve the quiet heritage of the place.  

When we travel to very historic cities like this for the first time, Phillip and I love to book a tour to learn more about the place, see things we wouldn’t have noticed without a guide, and expand our understanding of the development of the place, it’s history (good, bad, and ugly) and why it became the place that it is.  This time we booked a horse carriage tour, as Phillip knows I absolutely adore horses, having grown up around them during my summers in Alabama and spent several years barrel racing, pole bending, and just romping around the backwoods with my Dad on the handful of horses he owned.  This horse did not disappoint.  We got a rare English Shire named Angus.  He was sweet and gentle, but incredibly strong.  He can pull more than 4,000 pounds.  Amazing!  The female horses all had their “nails” (their hooves) painted bright greens and sparkly purples.  I spent approximately five minutes petting each one.  It’s a good thing Phillip is patient.  They’re such stoic, intelligent animals.  

And, the tour was fabulous.  We learned a lot about the architecture and the buildings in the downtown and historic area.  I’m always impressed by how much more connected with the land and weather people used to be, building their homes and designing their gardens and domestic routines around the weather and rotation of the earth.  What a much more wonderful world it would be if we (humans) were are still so intertwined and dependent upon the health of the earth.  In all, it was a memorable visit to a jewel of a southern city.  We also had one more really cool stop on our list.  To visit Phillip’s training ground.  

Phillip served as an enlisted officer in the U.S.M.C. (1992-1996).  In 1915, Parris Island was officially designated a Recruit Depot, and United States Marine Corps Recruit Training has continued there since then.  Phillip went to boot camp at Parris Island, so the place holds many irreplaceable memories for him. Phillip and I rented bikes at Beaufort to make the ~10 mile trek to Parris Island. Despite the bike shop guy’s skepticism that we could make it, we did!  It was a glorious ride through canopied streets dripping with Spanish Moss, arched bridges that lifted us up and gave us incredible views of the “golden wheat fields” (that’s what they look like at least) with winding crystal blue rivers flowing through them.  It was stunning.  

In contrast, Parris Island didn’t offer much aesthetically, because that’s not its purpose.  It’s a series of barracks and quads, climbing walls, ropes, and tire courses.  Phillip was flooded with memories as he walked the paths from building to building.  We did hear many squadrons chanting out while doing jumping jacks or jogging around the campus, and I could easily picture Phillip out there fulfilling every order, impressing his superiors.  Phillip showed me the big field where they host Marine Corps graduation and my mind populated it with crisply dressed Marines, standing erect in their dress blues, in tight formation, all at attention.  I could also see the dozens of family members, blinking back proud tears in the stands.  It was an overwhelming experience.  I’m glad I got to put a real life backdrop to the handful of memories from boot camp Phillip has shared with me.  We both were really glad, and proud, we were able to make that stop.  

In all, it was an incredibly memorable trek down the coast—made much quicker with our freshly painted bottom and the chores we were able to conquer along the way.  After Beaufort, we were going to make a quick run to Ubi’s new home for the winter, as we had many work and family obligations to take care of back in Pensacola, FL over the holidays.  For this reason we booked at a marina new to us, that I’m sure many of you have heard of.  It is a marina many cruisers had told us was a very protected, well-appointed, friendly and fun marina on the Georgia coast.  Any guesses??  Stay tuned!  

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. 

Jimmy, we all miss you. 

Come Monday – I Was Never Meant for Glitter

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.  

Pirate Looks at 40 – It Was Never Meant to Last

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.  

Pencil-Thin Mustache – Savor Nostalgia

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. 

Trip Around the Sun – No Resolutions; Just Enjoy the Ride

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.  

Changes in Latitudes – Never Turn Down a Chum with a Bottle of Rum

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!

Not a sailor was stirring, not on starboard, nor port.

It had been a busy June for me and Phillip, moving Ubi briskly up the east coast

So we could arrive in Newport for the Fourth of July, having family to host.

We had cast the lines in Florida on June 1st, with little time to spare,

Knowing July 1st our guests would soon be upon us, flying into Newport by air.  

The 1,000-mile offshore journey ticked off in passages rough, calm and just right, 

 But once we reached the Statue of Liberty, we squealed with delight.

A brief stay in Port Wash thrilled us with train rides to NYC,

But we had the worst thing you can have on a boat, a schedule you see?

So, we boogied east down the Long Island Sound, enjoying Port Jeff, then Essex, and New London

Which wowed us with its whaling history, sub museum, and Defender, a sailor’s fun den!

But our incoming crew kept us moving; it was Newport for the Fourth or bust!

Which even made sailing one morning in heinously thick fog, just to get there, a must!

But the hazy horizon lifted and gave us a pristine view as we pulled into port,

And dropped Ubi’s anchor, with plenty of room to spare, near the Adam’s Fort.

The night before their arrival, we were nestled snug aboard Ubi, warm in bed, 

As visions of lobster and family, laughter and fireworks filled our heads. 

We wiped Ducky dry the next day to not give our guests “dinghy butt,”

The thought of their first time (ever!) coming aboard Ubi fluttered my gut.

Phillip and I sat waiting at The Mooring, our waiter wondering what was the matter,

When the boys swooped raucously in: tropical shirts, flashy shades, lots of bling, tons of clatter.

“Ooh lobster!” they squealed.  “All the boats!  This view!  So nauti!  Tie my bib!”

“You should see our Bnb!” they continued.  “Morning tea!  How’s my shirt?  I got my hair did!”

I smiled and sighed as I gave him a huge hug, just breathing him in.  

My brother, John, known as “Bro-Lo,” looking fly as ever, smart, funny, a perfect ten.  

He and his husband, MyL, had come to spend the Fourth with us, in a port new to them,

Their first-time-in-New England enthusiasm was infectious, filling us all limb to limb.  

We all ordered lobster and cracked shells till our fingers hurt and bibs were splattered,

In a bustling harbor city full of people we found our little slice of family was all that mattered.  

Strolling Thames Street, the boys got Del’s Lemonade, Kilwin’s fudge, nauti trinkets, matching sweaters!

The next day they ferried over to the Vineyard to check out Edgartown, the carousel, real go-getters!

On the Fourth we ventured over to Bristol for the nation’s longest-running Independence parade

And cheered wildly at the milkman, the mayor, the oldest woman, the marching band brigade!

The boys dressed extra dapper that day, donning impeccable gay apparel of red, blue, and white,

John, ever my brother, supervised my wardrobe knowing, without his help, I would look quite afright.

“Confidence comes with something unique,” John said, swooping a scarf ‘round me, bright pink and red, 

And I smiled at him feeling lucky knowing I always carried that clever big-brother-voice in my head.

Phillip and I were blazing a new Fourth tradition it seemed, sharing this parade with family and friends

And posing just as we had the year before on the big Bristol ball with wickedly big grins! 

After the parade, the clouds back in Newport grew dark and foreboding, no daylight remained.

Phillip shuttled the boys and their bags to Ducky quick, hoping to beat the rain.

Heavy drops started to drench us as the boys climbed into our wobbly dinghy.

We almost lost John during his roll-aboard handoff and he cried: “What’s wrong with this thingy!”

“Get on John!” Phillip shouted.  “On Annie!  On MyL!  We really mustn’t stall!”

In sheets of rain, Phillip kicked up a wake knowing it was time to dash, dash away all!

Later on Ubi, after hot showers, filling pasta, and gorgeous bottles of red, 

The sky filled with fireworks: bright greens, crackling golds, and bold blues popped overhead. 

John and I cheersed and made our decades-old, traditional crazy sibling faces,

As Phillip and MyL settled on the Sport-a-Seats, eyes upward in awe, their faces lit gazes.

The four of us raised our glasses under a kaleidoscope of colors so vivid and bright,

As Phillip crowned our festive evening with a “Happy Fourth to us all, and to all a good night!”  

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: 

1. Replace the failing shocks in the boom vang;
2. Rebuild the leaking hydraulic backstay;
3. Have a new halyard for the mainsail made;
4. Have new running backstays made;
5. Replace our sail cover with a stack pack;
6. Have new hatch covers made and our sagging filler taken in;
7. Replace the blue ultra-suede interior cushion covers with cream ultra-leather;
8. Repair our fridge/freezer lids where the powerful shocks were cracking and pulling out; and
9. 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!