Just Another Trip Around The Sun

It used to be that when people learned my birthday was on New Year's Eve, they'd say "Boy, you're going to have a real blow out for the millennium, aren't you?" In reality, I fell asleep at 10:30 p.m. on the couch in my Brooklyn apartment on December 31, 1999.

The truth is that I've always felt that my birthday was an annual sacrifice to the cacophonous crowds of revelers. Even trying to celebrate my day seemed pointless. Better to ignore it -- which is what I've done for many years now. So, instead of taking time to reflect on that day, each year I just let it pass more or less like all the rest.

Today however, I turn 50. And I am finally doing what I have aimed to do for so long. I suppose that warrants circumspection.

On the plus side, I am traveling again, something I've missed since my return from Asia in 2007. And I am doing it under my own power, so to speak. There is something purposive about it and it gives me a tremendous sense of satisfaction, despite the challenges. My career gave me a sense of purpose, but frankly I have felt rudderless in it of late. I needed to escape, even if it is a temporary flight. On the other hand, I am unemployed for the first time since I was 16. That is a weird feeling and has produced moments of ennui and occasionally, something not far off of sheer panic.

Let's face it. At age 50, the most I can reasonably expect is another 20 years of decent health. If I'm lucky, it might be a few more. Then again, there are certainly no guarantees of even that much. As Bob Dylan said, "it ain't dark yet, but it's getting there." That's why I've chosen to hollow out this time in my life; to cut through the dream and let it close in the wake behind me. Tomorrow could be too late.

Sometimes I wonder if I am being selfish in this pursuit. It was never Noi's ambition and if she'd not met me, she'd no doubt be something completely different. She's a bit younger than me, though (well OK, more than a bit!) and there's still time to do her thing.

And I'll be there for her, too, as long as I'm able.

Happy New Year!

Rats! ... And Other Shipboard Plagues

Rat guard on a dock line in Lucaya

It's not something we generally bring up over gin and tonics with the cruising crowd, but we have had our share of infestations aboard. We probably should be quarantined.

The latest (possible) vermin to attack is the Big One -- it starts with an r. On our last day at West End, I noticed some telltale black traces on the navigation table indicating that we'd had a nocturnal visitor of the mammalian order rodentia.

I had read on an online cruising guide (Active Captain) of another cruiser who had picked up rats at Old Bahamia Bay Marina, where we were staying (a very nice and well-kept facility, btw). At the time, I didn't think much of it. Now I was worried. If the intruder (or intruders) had simply come aboard and left before daybreak, that was one thing; if he or she (or they) are now permanent residents aboard, that is quite another matter.

So far, there's no indication that we have rats aboard. However, I did notice at our latest marina (Grand Bahama Yacht Club in Lucaya) that at least one of the boats has rat guards on the dock lines. Hmmm.

In any case, rats are not our first infestation, nor anything close to the most persistent (as yet, anyway -- and let's hope!). We've been battling ants since the Chesapeake. Traps, tumeric (an old trick I learned in India), etc., nothing seems to work against them. Also, fruit flies on occasion. And since Florida, the noseeums (midges) are a nightly problem, not to mention mosquitoes. The latter two we are getting better at fighting. We have a special screen to keep out the noseeums (or "museums" as Noi calls them). The conventional mosquito repellents do nothing against them, though. The only thing that seems to sort-of work is Avon's Skin So Soft. My hypothesis is that the critters can't get their biting proboscis through the thick oil, but others say there's a chemical in it that is the real active ingredient. Skin So Soft for mosquitoes is something that I first learned from my Vietnam-veteran platoon sargent Gary Horseman back when I was a very green lieutenant in the National Guard. How do you get Avon products in the Bahamas? I don't have a clue. Some of the tiki bars have a bottle for patron use, but nobody seems to know where it comes from. Odd, that. And, regular baby oil (at $8 for a tiny bottle!) just doesn't cut it. 

For the flying insects I've contemplated catching a few geckos and putting them aboard. The geckos always did a great job catching the mosquitoes when I lived in India.

Any ideas would be most welcome.

Lucaya

Just a quick note to let everyone know we've arrived in Lucaya at a lovely little spot called the Grand Bahama Yacht Club.

It was a 7-hour slog motoring to windward in choppy seas to get here, but I think it was worth getting "around the bend" on Grand Bahama so as to be better positioned to take advantage of the next good weather window for crossing to the Berry Islands. Noi did great on the helm and despite threats to get sea sick, didn't.

Lots of cruisers doing the same waiting game here.

Boat Swept Out To Sea At West End

S/V Dagny in Florida

When we arrived at the Old Bahama Bay Marina on Christmas Eve, we noticed a small inflatable with a 2.5 hp outboard tied to the bulkhead next to us. At first, we didn't give it any mind (why would we?), but after a day or so of it apparently not moving we began to speculate. At first we thought it was from a sailboat that had come into the turning basin to clear customs and promptly departed without staying at the marina. But, that couldn't be, because that boat was long gone now. Mostly, we just thought the owner must feel incredibly confident that the dinghy was secure in the marina and that seemed to be a good sign for security here, over all.

Yesterday, we discovered the sinister truth. As we were on the main road near West End waiting for our conch salad, a van pulled up alongside and a Bahamanian man asked if we were the owners of "that double-ender in the marina." We answered in the affirmative and when we looked inside the vehicle, there was a European man in the passenger seat who introduced himself as Gil.

It turns out that Gil, who owns a 26' Morris Frances -- also a double-ender -- had arrived at West End the day before us. He is a single-hander and was apparently quite exhausted after a long ordeal at sea. He couldn't start his engine and tried unsuccessfully to sail into the narrow marina channel before giving up on that idea and deciding to anchor just outside and dinghy in to clear customs and immigration.

You can read about all this on his blog, but the upshot is that after he'd been ashore for a few hours his anchor dragged and his boat simply disappeared! I was horrified to hear this -- partly for Gil, of course, and partly because I know "there but for the grace of God ..." as they say. It could happen to anyone, really and it's a thought that will no doubt cause me many sleepless nights.

We gleaned a bit of the story during that chat on the road and have read the rest online. We of course promised to be on the lookout for the boat (S/V Dagny), but it's highly unlikely we would spot her on our current route. She has no doubt been swept into the Gulf Stream and drift analysis by Chris Parker puts her somewhere off the coast of St. Augustine, Fl., at least as of yesterday.

Gil -- a Frenchman who has been living in the U.S. for the past two decades -- has nothing. It was all on the boat, save his dinghy/outboard, laptop and the clothes on his back. A local Bahamanian representative of BASRA is helping him with arrangements, but that can't last forever. I emailed Gil and offered to let him stay with us, although we will be leaving soon. He is reluctantly accepting "loans" via Paypal and has put the dinghy up for sale.

Anyone reading this might consider a small donation to help out Gil. Details are on his blog.

Xmas In A Bahamian Hospital

The Bahamanian courtesy flag.

Merry Christmas from the Bahamas. We spent the afternoon in a hospital waiting for x-rays and stitches.

Now that I've delivered the punchline, here's how it started:

We arrived early yesterday morning (Christmas Eve) at West End after what was a rough passage from Port Everglades inlet. The rough part is something we are getting used to.

Getting out of the inlet with the flood coming in set up some short, steep waves. This was to be expected -- it was more important that we leave so that we arrived in the Bahamas in daylight rather than have a smooth exit from Ft. Lauderdale. After a few miles, the seas calmed down a bit and then soon after we entered the Gulf Stream.

As we've discovered from our previous GS crossings, if the wind is out of the south -- as it should be to scoot across the north-flowing current without drama -- the stream can actually lay the seas down, making this much-dreaded part of the trip actually quite pleasant.

We steered a course of about 90 degrees (due east) on the compass, which was to have compensated somewhat for the strong northerly set of the GS, plus magnetic variation of 7 degrees and compass deviation of -2 degrees. However, as we were pushed north over the 50-mile GS crossing, we also saw the wind, which had been SSE, back to SE. That meant our option to go to Lucaya was shut down -- we'd have to motor for hours directly into increasingly steep chop to get there. Option 2 was to go to West End, which is actually about 20 miles closer, but farther north.

There was only one problem with that plan: being closer meant that we'd arrive there in the dark. Entering an unknown harbor at night is a bad idea, especially in a place such as the Bahamas, which is famous for its reefs and shoaling. That forced us to stay out to sea for hours while we waited the sunrise.

We could have hove to, but Noi was already sea sick over the transom from the short-period waves and I didn't want to try anything out of the ordinary without backup. This forced me to take over pretty much all of the helming duties. That prospect seemed exhausting so I devised a plan to make it a bit easier on myself. Sail-wise, all we had out (in 25-28 knots of wind) was a half-rolled Yankee -- a small sail to begin with, made smaller by being reefed down. There wasn't quite enough sail to punch through the waves, so with the helm over and locked down, Symbiosis crabbed along toward her destination at about 3 knots. I could take my hand off the wheel and let her self-steer. It would have been more comfortable to smash through the waves at 6 knots, and we could have easily done that, but that would have put us at the entrance to West End at 0300 -- way too early.

Eventually, Noi got over her mal du mer and was able to resume a watch shift as the conditions subsided a bit. By around 0700 we could see the outline of West End and knew the entry point for the Old Bahama Marina was on the north tip. Getting in was straight-forward and we got a spot in the nearly empty marina basin. Customs and Immigration was easy too, but expensive -- $300 for a cruising permit that lasts six months. If we'd been able to cut 7 feet off Symbiosis, it would have cost us half that much!

On the dock, I soon encountered Quebecois Carol, from a 36' Carver (powerboat), who inquired about the sea conditions. She explained that she and her husband (Michel) had gone out that day and turned back because of seas they were the worst they'd seen in six years of cruising the area. We learned later that Carol is the author of the only French-language guide to the Great Loop (U.S. East Coast/Mississippi River), Le Great Loop Avec Emotion.

Bahamas meets Thailand -- Noi's lobster salad.

So what's that about the hospital?!

Everything was going great for our holiday. We enjoyed a lobster breakfast (thanks to a local vendor who sold us seven live lobster for $45 -- we overpaid, as it turned out). Delicious. At the marina we are staying at, there's a mandatory $15/day charge for water, so we decided to take advantage of it and washed the boat top to bottom. Noi wanted me to open one of the floorboards that provide access to the bilge so she could clean there as well. I balked. These floorboards have been a constant pain -- no matter how many times I shave down the edges of them, when they get wet, they swell up and will not budge. I have taken to using a screwdriver in the handle to pry them up. Well, this time the screwdriver slipped and gashed my left pinky. It was a pretty deep cut and I also thought there was the possibility that I'd broken the finger. Despite it being Christmas, there was a local driver available and he brought us to West End clinic. An ethnic Indian (as in South Asian) nurse took a look and she insisted I go into the main town, Freeport, for an x-ray. So, off to Freeport. After literally hours of waiting in the ER (isn't it always like that?), I finally got an x-ray (not broken) and five stitches. It hurts a bit and I am medicating it with coconut rum. What a day!

At the clinic in West End.

Anyway, Merry Christmas!

Bahamas Bound

We never planned to go the "Thorny Path" via the Bahamas to the Eastern Caribbean, but alas that's how we are poised to move as we wait for weather in Fort Lauderdale.

Morgan has left us. He's off to a school here where he will get training to work the mega-yacht circuit. We wish him the best of luck. He's been a big help this far and there's a bit of trepidation about losing Symby's third crew member.

A highlight of our stay here was the arrival of our friend Lou Stewart aboard his aptly named TBD. I've known Lou since my first days at Magothy Marina. He's a great guy -- a bit unpredictable, but he likes it that way. About a month after we left the Chesapeake, he set out from Norfolk and has eaten up the miles, both offshore and inshore (ICW) to catch up with us. He was having some trouble with his electric windlass when he came into our anchorage after dark last night, so he telephoned for help and Morgan and I rowed over in the dinghy to lend him a hand. A bit of drama, but it all worked out.

Currently, we are in a small anchorage in Middle River, where we hope to get our window starting Wednesday evening, for a Thursday morning arrival at West End, Grand Bahama Island. We should have southeast winds of less than 20 knots, which should be good for a Gulf Stream crossing.

I am feeling mostly nervous about preparations -- we have a number of small projects to do before we leave. We also have to top off fuel and water. I learned my lesson from the Charleston fiasco to take every opportunity to top off the tanks.

So, I will hopefully be posting next from the Bahamas!

Velcro Beach

Last Wednesday, we arrived in Vero Beach (nicknamed "Velcro Beach" because it's difficult to leave). We have been enjoying our time here -- a good thing, since we're still waiting for a package from Force 10 (propane stove) in British Colombia. The rep there led me to believe that the package would be sent out immediately but that it would probably take two weeks to arrive due to having to go through U.S. Customs. A week later I got a call because my debit card had been declined -- the previous day I left it at a restaurant and had it cancelled. No big deal, but it alerted me to the fact that the part was now likely to take three weeks!

Meantime, I had ordered some extra oil filters and a new MidNite Solar charge controller was sent on its way to us. The first one had some problems, but the company sent a new one after it became clear they couldn't trouble-shoot the problem over the phone. I just reinstalled it yesterday and it seems to be working perfectly. (A violation of Murphy's Law, for sure, but I am willing to entertain the suspension of the natural order to have a fully charged battery!)

The marina at Vero is nice. We are on a mooring with (now) our third buddy boat. It's a bit strange to have relative strangers tied up alongside for an extended period of time, but in reality fellow cruisers are never really strangers. You always have a lot in common. Just avoid the third rail of politics or religion and there's a whole lot to talk about. Pretty much everyone at the marina is setting off for the Bahamas at the first opportunity, though we all need to stage ourselves at some point between here and Miami, wait for the right weather (a gentle southerly for at least 24 hours) and then scoot across the Gulf Stream for either Bimini, Gun Cay or Grand Bahama Island.

Noi took this photo of Symbiosis (bottom) and one of our buddy boats from the masthead.

As soon as we get the stove valve, and assuming the weather is right, we might either go offshore to Fort Lauderdale, where we will drop off Morgan, or else go inside (ICW). I think that will be our jumping off point for either Gun Cay or West End (Great Bahama I.)

The bad news is we've been mulling the disaster that is our budget for this trip. In the first two months, we are 3x over budget, mainly because of boat repairs and marinas (which we must end our addiction to -- and soon!). The good news is that most of that was incurred in the first month and this month we are only a few hundred dollars over-budget. So far!

As per usual, wifi at the marina is a joke, so I am writing this outside a Holiday Inn, where I've pirated a signal in exchange for my email address. Such are the difficult compromises of the 21st Century.

Charleston To Points South

Once again, I am far behind on the blog post thing and once again I apologize.

The news seems to pile up and then it's forgotten. I'll go back to the Charleston, S.C., to Fernandina Beach, Fl. passage:

Our first offshore catch!

As seems to be our want, we had a pretty good first day of sailing. Downwind with fairly moderate seas and winds -- we were doing about 6 knots. Noi threw in the trolling line -- an exercise that has a tinge of futility about it aboard Symbiosis. However, several hours later, we heard the distinctive whirr of "fish on" and I went to reel it in. Inexperienced offshore fishermen (and women) often lose the catch at this point, and I fully expected to be one of them. The tension on the reel wasn't quite right either, and the line was getting bunched up on the spool as I tried to bring it in. Much to our surprise and delight, we did manage to land a tuna (later identified as a Black Fin). Sushi! Noi, who had been a bit sea sick, revived and filleted the catch. Morgan and I ate pieces with soy sauce and wasabi and Noi saved the rest for cooking later.

sashimi.

By the way, thanks to Lisa Borre and David Barker for the reel and lure that made the catch!

Toward the afternoon of the day of the big catch, the wind and waves started to pick up. The bad news was that it was fairly miserable for several hours -- the good news is that the following sea and 30-knot gusts pushed us along like a freight train. We made the passage in 24 hours, instead of the 30 we had anticipated.

But it was a rough trip for us all -- especially Noi. I had been watching the weather and hoping to have a relatively easy passage, but the forecast was a bit off for that second day -- it had been calling for 20 knots and seas of 3-4 feet. Not too bad. However, it turned out more like 25-30 knots and seas of 5-7 feet (and short period, meaning the waves are close together). Those are the sort of conditions that are decidedly unpleasant.

Fernandina Beach on Amelia Island is an interesting, touristy place and we enjoyed a few days there, staying at Amelia Island Yacht Basin. Not nearly as nice as our arrangement in Charleson, but cosy for a few days.

I hope I am not deceiving myself (or jinxing something) as a I observe a positive trend -- we seem to be breaking fewer big things offshore. Ever since leaving Magothy Marina on Oct. 20, our journey has been one extended shakedown cruise. One seemly minor, but annoying breakage along the way has been the Dyneema lifelines. I chose Dyneema (instead of stainless steel) at the suggestion of a salesman whose record on such things I'd learned to trust over the years. Unfortunately, the (stretchy) Dyneema has proven totally unsuitable for said application. Despite locking turnbuckles and even adding Loctite to them, three have spun out and gone overboard -- at nearly $50 a pop. I have been looking for a cheap replacement for the turnbuckles, but most of the hardware stores we encounter are not very well stocked.

St. Augustine from the mooring field.

Anyway, departing Fernandina Beach, we went "inside" (i.e., the ICW) to St. Augustine, a lovely little city with a lot of history. We picked up a mooring run by the municipal marina there (complete with free water taxi), just south of the "Bridge of Lions." The town, the oldest continually occupied in the continental U.S., is quaint and touristy. Castillo de San Marcos, a 16th-Century Spanish fort that stands guard over the inlet is quite interesting.

Among other things, we met Heather at Mary's Harborview Cafe (great breakfast!). Heather is the sister-in-law of Pat & Bruce Blair, our longtime Magothy Marina pals. It's a small world!

With Heather at Mary's Harborview Cafe.

Unfortunately, we could only stay two nights as a big sailing rally had all the slips and moorings taken. We could have anchored out for another day or two but the current is fierce and rowing our dingy through it is not appealing. You're probably wondering why we don't have an outboard. Good question. I weighed the pros and cons, the expense, etc., and decided against it. I consider myself an expert rower, but maybe it wasn't such a wise decision. On the other hand, at St. Augustine, we witnessed an outboard fail (as they are known to do from time to time) and a couple desperately trying to row. They almost didn't make it. So, my theory is that if you can't row it, you shouldn't try it. That, and the current is supposed to get better farther south. We hope. Otherwise, we are going to be spending some money on an outboard.

But, I digress ...

We reluctantly left St. Augustine, but didn't really feel like doing a full-day on the Intercoastal. We were intrigued by a place called Marineland about 20 miles downrange. There didn't look to be much there, but the marina rates were cheap, so what the hell.

So, here we are in Marineland. There are actually a few nice things about the place. We took a guided kayak tour of the estuary here -- a national park that spans tens of thousands of acres. And, today we are going to a dolphin research facility. Also, this place apparently served as the set for Revenge of the Creature from the Black Lagoon (1955), so it's got that going for it!

Waiting, Waiting ...

Yes, I have been remiss in updating this blog. Here are a list of the obstacles to regular blog-writing: lack of reliable wifi; numerous boat projects; having to walk everywhere (or at least beg a ride); the need to socialize with fellow cruisers; general laziness.

Now that the apology is out of the way, let me say that a lot has happened in the past few weeks.

Our leg into Charleston was a bit rough. We got fairly strong winds out of the west and could not beat into the waves. So, we spent an extra day offshore waiting for the conditions to moderate. After a first day of first-rate sailing, we had a second day of second-rate motoring and then a third day where we had to stand off, that was fairly miserable. Crew was seasick off and on and we had to fight our way into the Charleston inlet, as we arrived when the tide was set against us. Yes, we could have hove to and waited, but no one wanted that. The highlight was a pod (or several pods) of dolphins that rode our bow wake for much of the last day. Dolphins have become a commonplace sight, of course, but we still get excited to see them. We tried trolling a line for Mahi or Tuna again, but no joy.

Meantime, we managed to rip two points on our second reef. And, the depth sounder decided to pack it in. More repairs.

The biggest problem is that I had decided not to refuel in Morehead, thinking that 45 gallons of diesel would be sufficient for what was supposed to be a two-day passage. I was wrong. As we sucked down fuel setting into steep easterly waves and wind, we kept watching the level. It was pretty clear we wouldn't have enough to make it -- and running out of fuel in the Charleston inlet, with its strong current, was not something we wanted to do. I think it was Morgan (who did an expert job of getting us closer under sail) who suggested calling Tow Boat U.S. to bring us fuel. Once again, we used our sat phone, as we were too far offshore for cell phone service. The dispatcher sounded annoyed at our request, but when the tow boat operator arrived with 10 gallons of diesel, he seemed in good spirits.

With our fuel, we continued along our way and slowly made it into the inlet, anchoring opposite of City Marina on the Ashley River at about 0530. Next afternoon, we managed to get into City Marina on the "Megadock." Expensive marina, but a nice one.

In the evening we went looking for BBQ and found a place called "Oink!" (Eds: we thought it was called Oink! because of the giant neon sign proclaiming it, but we discovered later that it's actually called Nick's), Not sure if it was two days of not much food (Noi didn't feel much like cooking) or that the food was indeed excellent, but the pulled pork and fried green tomatoes (complete with a local IPA beer) really hit the spot. In subsequent days, we explored Charleston, which has much to recommend it. In fact, we'd say it's currently the favorite of the cities we've visited. We've been to several of the BBQ joints and loved them all (Sticky Fingers, Swig & Swine, etc.) and a truly amazing seafood place called Hyman's.

Meanwhile, we have met some wonderful people: A guy named Ed Snowden, captain of a superyacht. Ed is from North Carolina, the same state that his more famous (infamous) namesake hails from. That's caused him lots of problems. Also, Richard and Kate on S/V Atalanta -- they are heading to the Western Caribbean but have done the "Thorny Path" through the Bahamas to the Eastern Caribbean and had lots of good advice.

Our current plan is to leave Tuesday, head offshore and hopefully make it to Fernandina Beach, Fla. in a few days.

Best Laid Plans ...

Sunrise east of the Gulf Stream.

"All human plans are subject to ruthless revision by Nature, or Fate, or whatever one prefers to call the powers behind the Universe." -- Arthur C. Clarke.

It's a good thing that flexibility is the ethos of cruising: at every turn, we've had to adapt. The latest is a big change.

Our passage to the BVIs did not go as planned. We got a good weather window from Chris Parker (whose forecasts were pretty much spot on throughout, btw). The window called for us leaving as early as possible Saturday afternoon (Oct. 31), so we hit the dock at Morehead (actually it was a delicate operation that involved not hitting the dock despite a wicked current), topped off fuel and water, crew (Christopher Joyce; Morgan Joyce) stepped aboard and we were headed out Beaufort Inlet -- all within about 1 1/2 hours.

We motored east for several hours before reaching the Gulf Stream at about 11 p.m. The crossing was a little bumpy -- especially for the first hour or two near the western wall, but nothing too bad. Once we entered the GS proper, everything smoothed out, thanks to a moderately strong southerly breeze. In 9 hours, we were across.

Noi trying to catch Mahi Mahi.

For the next few days things went generally well, with few problems other than a head overflowing on the intake side and some leaking chain plates on the starboard side (above the pilot berth). Eventually, however, we noticed that the bilge pump was cycling a lot more than we would expect and discovered a fair amount of water below decks. After shutting all the thruhulls -- including the bilge pump (for those mechanically inclined -- it has a check valve but no vented loop).

Chris Joyce enjoying a well-deserved nap.

I disconnected the electric bilge pump and put the discharge directly in a bucket and over the side to eliminate the possibility that water was siphoning in through the thruhull. In the process, I tested the check valve and it seemed to be working properly. After a few hours, we were still pumping about a gallon/minute out of the bilge and there seemed to be no end in sight. Of course, the bilge pump could have kept up with that, but what if it burned out? I imprudently did not have a spare aboard. In any case, we didn't want to do the bucket brigade all the way to Tortola -- at least another 7 days, maybe more.

After consulting with crew, in which we briefly discussed the idea of calling at Bermuda (still four days away and we had no detailed charts for a tricky entrance), we decided to turn back.

On our way back to the GS, we sailed through a pretty intense squall -- at least 35 knots, perhaps 40, with a double-reefed main and the yankee out (still, way too much sail). I later discovered that our radar antenna was knocked off its mount during the 45 minutes or so we rode that weather (surfing along at 8.9 knots!). But it was all just wind; no waves.

In the meantime, we used the sat phone to contact our all around guru and shore-side support person -- Mary Heinritz, who in turn was able to contact Chris Parker for another GS forecast, going the other way. Chris' forecast wasn't great, but not too bad either -- east to southeast 20 knot winds and nine-foot seas across the Stream.

When we finally arrived, the wind at the stream was less than forecast and the crossing was in fact even easier than the way out.

The timing though wasn't the best. We got across the stream in the evening and were off Beaufort Inlet again by the wee hours. We didn't want to go into the generally unfamiliar harbor at night, so loitered offshore in windy and rainy conditions. By daybreak, we were able to make our way in. Noi noticed dozens of iridescent shapes darting under the water in Symbiosis' wake -- Mahi Mahi. She tried to throw a line in and catch one, but no success.

Morgan and Scott.

Finally we arrived at Portside Marina and have spent the last few days doing projects and putting the boat back in order. We've decided on a modified plan that will involve some shorter coastal hopes of a few hundred miles (a few days, that is), each.

Overdue ...

Just a quick note to let everyone know we are again in Morehead City after turning back due to some mechanical issues with the boat. Rather than try for the BVIs again (sans the crew we had expected), we've decided to take a different route altogether: a few short hops down the coast (Charleston? Savannah? Somewhere in Florida?) Then Cuba and either the Thorny Path or simply west to Panama.

All is well and we are taking our time with some repairs and reorganization.

The Glorious Chesapeake; The Dismal ICW

The contrast couldn't be greater: four wonderful days heading south in the Chesapeake; six days in the ICW ranging from tedious to borderline catastrophic.

The Chessie included one day in which we averaged an unprecedented 7 knots under sail (partially furled genny alone, to boot!). Saw a few dolphins, pelicans and even a U.S. Navy submarine (yes, it was on the surface!)

The ICW included: three groundings -- two that required a tow; one overheating engine which required days of work on the heat exchanger and necessitated a stay in an uncharted boat yard (literally, I can't find it on my Garmin charts) and a "water ingress" situation that could have been a disaster (loose raw water hose).

The only good thing was the helpfulness of the folks in North Carolina at (uncharted) Forest River Shipyard -- Axson (father and son) and John for their mechanical advice and hospitality and Zach for lending a hand during maneuvers to and from the dock. If you draw more than about 3 feet, it's a heart stopping entry through a razor-thin channel, but it turned out to be worth the stress.

Tonight we head offshore. Weather router Chris Parker tells us to expect to motor across the Gulf Stream in light air, so I sure hope that engine keeps humming along!

Shoving Off

"It's time to move on; time to get going

What lies ahead I have no way of knowing

But under my feet, baby, grass is growing

It's time to move on; it's time to get going."

-- Tom Petty

What an irony. In the lead up to the beginning of a life away from the hustle of modern existance, Noi and I have had unquestionably among the most stressful few days we've ever experienced. 

Getting a boat ready for going offshore involves a thousand small tasks that must all be done correctly. It is sort of like going into outer space -- food, fuel, spare parts, tools, charts, etc., must go with you. In case of trouble, you might be able to call Mission Control, but the crew aboard will have to deal with the problems at hand and make any necessary fixes.

What I don't suppose I anticipated is that all of these logistics (and just plain hard work) would have to be accomplished in the midst of a cavalcade of well-wishers stopping by to wish us well. All very welcome in a social sense (and thanks to everyone who stopped by!), but very difficult if you're trying to get anything accomplished.

Is everything ready? Hardly. But the big things are crossed off the list and the boat seems packed and seaworthy.

Tomorrow is finally the day we shove off. It was to be Sunday. Then Monday. Now it looks like mid-morning on Tuesday, the 20th. Heading down the Chesapeake to the ICW, then to Moorhead/Beaufort, N.C., where we will wait for weather to go offshore.

Honestly, my feelings are less emotional than I thought. I am exhausted and just ready to get underway. I think Noi feels the same way.

The Countdown Begins

Installing windvane self-steering.

"How does one organize an expedition: what equipment is taken, what sources read; what are the little dangers and the large ones?" -- The Log from the Sea of Cortez, John Steinbeck

Symbiosis' navigation table is piled high with tools, electronics and spare parts. The problem of organization seems to only get worse the closer we get to our departure -- a month from now at the latest.

Both Noi and I are trying to cram everything in despite continuing to work full-time jobs. I'm done as of Oct. 4 and Noi a week later. But we must also fit in a week for a road trip to Indiana to see family one last time before casting off.

Rebuilding the engine box. It was poorly designed so that it broke apart over time.

We still have so much to do and even taking the time to write this post is an imposition. Every project seems half done, with some frustrating obstacle or another that keeps it from being checked off the list.

Here's a list of the big projects remaining:

-- Aries wind vane (self-steering): Need to re-drill set screw holes after tap broke off.
-- Install Kyocera solar panels (2, 140 watt panels) and MidNite charge controller.
-- Buy new batteries (6 volt "golf cart" wired in series for 12v)
-- "New" (used) Icom IC-M700pro SSB radio on order from Ebay. (After a three-week, $260 "repair," that yielded no joy on the transmit side of the old M700).
-- New dodger and bimini. Still being made.
-- Finish engine-box repair (get more epoxy!).
-- Install Viking RescYou Pro 4-person life raft (on pushpit)
-- New hoses for both hand-held bilge pumps.
-- Finish installing freshwater foot pumps.
-- Various cosmetic things that will no doubt be left undone.

My miffed look. Hauling the boat for survey I discovered the diver didn't put the prop zinc on last time!

Not exactly the most elegant or inspiring first post, but an accurate reflection of our schizophrenic existence! More interesting (and hopefully less hectic) reading to follow.