Sunrise, Sunset

A picture of a sunset/sunrise is like a post card of a vacation. It looks nice, but you need to be there to really experience it. A sunset or sunrise viewed from land can be a spectacular thing, but from the water the rise and fall of the big orange orb takes on a mystical quality.
The most spectacular sunsets I have witnessed have been viewed out the cockpit of my boat. When you are surrounded by water and there are few distractions, the big round ball takes center stage. A beautiful sunset can stir the soul. Likewise is the sight of a rising sun. This summer we were sailing off the coast of Florida from Port Canaveral to Lake Worth and got caught up in a terrible storm that lasted all night. Chris and I were completely exhausted. The following morning the storm parted and we were treated to a magnificent sunrise. As we limped into Lake Worth inlet, the ten foot seas settled just as the first rays of the day broke through the clouds. With the encouragement of the new day, the night before was well on its way to becoming just another sea story. Photo credit: Most of the photos above were taken by my friend, Donna. I was in the general area when they were taken, but apparently too mesmerized to get my camera :)

Fav Pics of LaLeLu

LaLeLu is a chameleon - she has many differant "looks". Here's a few of my favorite pics of her taken over the years:

Happy Birthday America!

This 4th we went to Cocoa and anchored LaLeLu just south of the 520 along with many other boats including almost everyone we know from Harbor Town. Imagine was anchored up-channel from us and we took turns hanging out in each other's cockpits all afternoon. As darkness settled in, throngs of power boats arrived and the traffic on the bridge was stopped. Chris, Park and I dingied over to Imagine with our Sport Seats and sat on the bow with Kenny and Pam to watch the show. The scattered thundershowers called for by the Weatherman never arrived. The firework display garnered a respectable number of oooohs/aaaaahs. After the grand finale, we watched another light show as green and red nav lights of the power boats paraded back down the river to where ever they came from. The spectacular evening was followed by a very peaceful night on anchor.

And So It Ends

Providing us with a glorious spectrum of reds and oranges, we watched the sun set behind the thunder clouds that were building just off the coast of Florida. LaLeLu's motion was easy and effortless as she glided along, in a groove, motoring with the current, and a slight following sea. Still no wind, but with the push of the stream we were able to throttle back to 1500 rpms and still make 7.3 knots. After running hard the prior day, 1500 rpms felt like a mere purrr. The last drops of daylight finally gave way to darkness at about 9:00 pm. The moon rose slowly from the east and the coastal clouds that were obscuring the sky dissipated and cleared. At about 11:00 pm we had a full moon overhead, a sky full of stars, 10 knots of wind on the aft port side, biolumenecsence lighting our bow wake and a following sea. These are the nights you only read about in sailor's fairy tales. We were able to raise the main and head sail. After unzipping the dodger/bimini connector, Chris and Park used the `star cards' to identify the constellations. Before we knew it, we were an hour outside of Port Canaveral, trying to fight off the urge to sleep. As we feared, we arrived too early and had to wait outside the port for just a bit. At 6:30 am we were hailing the 401 bridge, and at 7:30 am LaLeLu was back in her slip at Harbor Town. Fairwell Abacos - until next year.

Headin` Home

We pulled anchor from Great Sale at 7:30 a.m. There was no wind and flat seas. I wasn't complaining, though. Motoring across the bank to the rhythm of the flogging mainsail and clanking rigging was one hundred times better then the seat-of-the-pants adventure we had the day before. We motored alongside Jim, Tammy & gang on Sweet Chariot - over the bank and into the stream. As the morning faded into afternoon, the aqua-velvet water of the bank transformed into the indigo blue water of the gulf stream. Chris and Park conducted a quick ceremony to Neptune to secure favorable passage conditions by making an offering of a can of Budweiser. Chris proclaimed his offering of the King of Beers to the King of the Sea, as Park poured the beer from North to South and East to West. It must have worked because the seas were kind and gentle for the entire crossing. In fact, it was so calm that I was able to boil eggs and make potato salad while underway. When I wasn't boiling eggs, I spent some time fishing off the stern.
Every time I put the lure in the water I got a hit. One was a very large barracuda. When I pulled him up alongside I could see he was about 4' and had many very sharp-looking teeth. Deciding that I did not want to part with any of my ten fingers, I cut him loose - favorite lure and all. We watched on XM weather radar as the thunder cells built off the south east Florida coast, and miraculously we were able to skirt each one of them without hardly a rain drop of water felt on our heads.
We took turns finding tankers and cargo ships in the distance and watched them over a fixed point (such as a thumb held in front of an eye) to confirm they were on a different course than we were. As we hit the Gulf Stream our speed picked up to over 8 knots, even without the assist of wind, and we had to throttle back to keep from arriving too early at Port Canaveral. And so it went, as the afternoon turned into evening, the motor droned on as we skimmed along on our course home.

No Place to Hide

From Hope Town, we started heading north for our return stateside. The weather went from iffy to down right crappy as we picked our way northwest to Great Sale. I wrote the storm story below in the cockpit the day after we experienced a particularly nasty storm that took us by surprise. On Thursday June 19, we pulled anchor from the ferry landing anchorage across from New Plymouth/Green Turtle.
We figured if we could keep a pace of 6.3 knots we could make the anchorage at Great Sale in time for cocktail hour. In hindsight, the plan was a bit ambitious considering that weather was calling for 100%thunderstorm coverage.
When we rounded the "corner" where Great Abaco meets Little Abaco we got hit with 27knot winds. Chris said "I don't want to sail in 40 knot winds and get beat up all day." Accusing him of being dramatic, I rolled my eyes and said "We're not sailing in 40 knot winds!" An hour after my bold proclamation as I was at the helm, I verified that the winds indeed were NOT 40 knots! They were 45 knots! We spent the next 6 hours teetering somewhere between sheer terror and exhaustion. There was no land mass in the area that could give us protection from the direction of the storm so our only option was to push through it. At times our trail on our chart plotter looked like spaghetti as we went in circles keeping the boat pointing into the cyclonic wind. When we were able to make headway, we could only eek out 2-3 knots at near wide open throttle. At one point I thought it had calmed enough for me to crawl up on deck to turn the dorades and snap the bottom of the dodger down (both of which were letting water into the cabin and causing soggy conditions below). At the very moment I got up on the deck, I felt the bottom fall out from under the boat as we screamed down the biggest wave of the day. I watched in slow motion, my fingers braced in death grips on the jackline and dorade sissy bar, as a wall of green water stood up over the top of my head and crashed down on top of me. When it cleared I looked at Chris through the dodger and his eyes, big as basketballs, met mine and neither of us said anything - just exhaled.
We fought this storm for more than two hours, and when we finally got through it, another monster storm chased us and was just at our backs for the next four hours. We limped into Great Sale at sundown - beaten, tired, wet, cold, hungry, but ever so relieved to be anchored.

Beautiful Hopetown

The guidebooks made mention of the quaintness of Hopetown, but "quaint" does not do Hopetown justice. Hopetown is a small island with a lighthouse as its claim to fame. The lighthouse still operates on Kerosene and the weights that spin the lens are hand-cranked up to the top every night. It rises from the shoreline like a peppermint stick and can be seen for quite some distance. If you have read Jimmy Buffett's "A Salty Piece of Land" you are already familiar with this lighthouse. And yes, it really does have a Fresnel lens. The town that surrounds the lighthouse is postcard perfect. There is a thriving population of full-time residents on this island. The pastel colored houses are neatly maintained and most have white wedding-cake-like roofs. There is a slight variation in elevation throughout the island which provides some interest while strolling the streets. The narrow streets are trimmed with lush tropical plants and vines bearing an array of brightly colored flowers. The anchorage is tucked back inside a cut in the land and is only approachable to us at high tide. We opted to anchor on the outside so as not to have to negotiate the shallow cut. The island is slow and laid back - as it is with all the Bahamas - but more so here. It is not a really a place you want to go to party - unless your idea of fun is BINGO (and yes, there is a BINGO hall here). This is a place to soak up the history of the island chain, view the islands from atop the lighthouse, shop in the quaint stores and stop for an ice cream cone. I absolutely loved this island and it was just the right speed for me after spending three days at Guana.

Great Guana

Our passage around the Whale, en route to Great Guana, turned out to be a non-event - we just had a few rolly polly swells at the mouth of the Atlantic. A short jaunt south and we found our way to Fisher's Bay. We elected to grab a mooring - $15 a day is cheap price to pay for a good night's sleep. (Sleeping in two hour increments on anchor watch gets old real quick.)
On our first exploration onto shore we immediately noticed a big contrast between this island and Green Turtle. The latter boasts a thriving population of local residents and businesses. Guana appeared to have few residents and its businesses catered primarily to tourists. It was interesting to finally see Grabbers and Nippers for myself - as I've heard others describe them often in the past. I also had to do my own survey to compare each establishment's slushy rum drink: Believe me I did a full blown study on the Grabber vs. the Nipper.
On our second day in Guana, we snorkeled the reefs in front of Nippers, swam in the Aqua-Velvet colored water and basked on the sugar white sand. After we had our fill of that, we lumbered up the brightly painted wooden stairway and found a poolside chair under a hula-skirted umbrella. As our bar tab will attest, their is some sort of force field poolside at Nippers that won't let you leave. Park drew pictures of tropical scenes as we swam and 'tested' many slushy, fruity rum drinks. One of Park's pictures now hangs above Nippers' bar. At Guana we met up with the other parts that we crossed with, and also connected with others we knew that were already in the islands when we arrived. Even our next-dock neighbors from Harbor Town were here. It was so cool having all our friends in paradise with us. I think there must have been 12 boats in Guana that we knew. We all did the pig roast at Nippers on Sunday and the BBQ at Grabbers on Saturday. When we weren't swimming/snorkeling we partied like rock stars. One night, our boat even got TP'd. Our three day visit to Guana was most excellent but went by in a flash.

Abacos: Mangrove to Green Turtle

Our crossing (on the second try) was very nice and gentle. We crossed with 6 other boats from Lake Worth, leaving at ebb slack at 2:00 am and arrived in Mangrove Cay the afternoon of the following day. On the crossing, Mahi were nearly jumping into every one's boats. I heard at least three calls of "fish on" delivered via VHF. We started the phenomenon by landing a small female on our boat. My gaff job was less than pretty and she bled all over the cockpit. That afternoon we anchored with our crossing comrades at Mangrove. Raising our Q flag that evening was a right of passage that we had waited two years for. Our initial crossing group splintered off into separate groups. We buddied up with Jim and Tammy & crew on Sweet Chariot. Early the next morning we headed out with Sweet Chariot for a long slog to Spanish Cay for clearing customs. Once cleared, we exchanged our yellow Q's for the Bahamian courtesy flag - another sigh of relief, and another badge of honor. At this point I finally allowed myself to say "Phew! We really made it." That evening we anchored with our buddies Jim, Tammy and gang right outside the marina at Spanish Cay and snorkeled around the boats in the morning. It was so cool to be able to see the anchor laying on the sea floor below. After splashing around several hours we pulled anchor and headed to Green Turtle. Our ECSA friend Walt told us in advance of our trip to Bahamas that Wednesday was the night to be in Green Turtle. Well as luck would have it, we arrived on Tuesday and stayed there through Thursday. Wednesday evening found us loaded up in our dingys, headed for the Green Turtle Club for a little dancing under the tree. The Gully Roosters entertained us with their unique blend of island music - something between hillbilly and reggae - and made it impossible to keep our feet still. After a night of dancing like we were on hot coals, we enjoyed a day of snorkeling and beach combing. On our snorkel adventure we saw a Lion fish and many nice-sized lobsters. The spiney creatures taunted us, obviously well aware of the fact they were out of season. After our underwater adventure, we combed the white sugar sand of the nearby beach. Ahhh, I think I am going to like this vacation.
(note: this post is dedicated to Carla - my friend who thinks I am a slacker when it comes to prompt posting on my blog. I still luv you girl!)

Abacos Pictures

Doing the YMCA on our run from Mangrove to Spanish Cay (to clear customs).
Arrival in Green Turtle Cay. We stayed here in the New Plymouth anchorage for a few days. Great snorkeling and fun town.
Next stop - Great Guana, home of the rivaling Nippers and Grappers. We tried a few of each! We stayed on a mooring in Fishers Bay for three days.
The wonderfully quaint island of Hopetown. One day is definately not enough time at this stop. A return visit is in order.

Holding a freighter on the way home - mid stream.

Monsters of the Sea

Now here is a sea tale that is no tall tale. It happened only a few days ago. You see, I've been inside the belly of the monster, and I am here to recount the woeful story.

The Monster of the sea has an insatiable appetite for sailors. On this particular day it snuck up on us unaware and swallowed us whole - boat and crew. Alive and confused we were thrown in every conceivable direction. The belly of the Monster was a dark and frightening place - pitch black except for momentarily blinding and searing flashes of fire that poured from her nostrils. We prayed not to see, because sometimes not seeing is better. That said, nothing visual could compare with the eerie sound of her rumbling innards, which sound was far more frightening than anything that could be seen.

There were other poor souls entombed along with us. With every flash of light I caught a glimpse of their helpless faces that mirrored our own despair - Their vessels likewise thrashing to and fro - Their cries for help met with no relief. All attempts to escape were in vain. Despite our best and valiant efforts to flee the walls of the Monster’s womb proved impenetrable.

Then, just as we were ready to surrender completely, she spat us out in the same venomous manner in which she took us in. Silent deals were made with Neptune as we gathered our wits and ran from her. The Monster taunted and chased us for miles. The rumbling of her belly was painfully present just over our shoulders. Her fingers pawed at our backs as spears of fire flew from her finger tips.

Never before have I run so hard and so fast - completely exhausted, but ever so painfully aware of the awful place inside her loins. Finally, the Monster tired of our cat and mouse and went away. Bruised and battered, but alas alive, we limped our way into safe harbor.

Look into my eyes as I tell you this story and you will have no doubt that it is the truth. In that ocean there lives a Sea Monster, the likes of which I hope never to see again.

Down Island - Mon!

We made it to the Abacos! Yeah! The crossing was as smooth as a magic carpet ride and the water here really is the color you see in the post cards. Right now we are anchored in Green Turtle Cay. The internet connection here is not great - but hey, who needs internet when you are in paradise? More details and pictures to follow.

Round and Round She Goes...

The chores are done, the time for departure is at hand, and now there is yet one more hurdle that stands between me and my destination.

Even though I am powerless to provide any influence one way or the other, I pace the floor and watch the weather with deep consternation.

You see in order to get to the islands, we must cross a mighty stream running swiftly in a northly direction;

That river can be kind and gentle, but be warned sailor, for now is the time for reflection.

You see, that river is akin to a sleeping giant and she can be a tempest when awakened by an opposing wind from the north.

So my destiny lies in the palms of mother nature, who has taunted me for weeks by shifting her winds back and forth.

Memorial Weekend Cruise to Sebastian Inlet

There are some days that move you. Some times when all the pieces just seem to fit together right. Some events that you will always remember in fine detail. This year's ECSA Memorial Day Weekend cruise was one that fits into each of the afore-mentioned catagories.
When we departed from Harbor Town on Saturday morning we would never have guessed that it would end up being a trip we'd fondly remember. It started out plain awful. We awoke early in order to make the 7:30 am opening of the bridge. We figured it would be an eight hour sail down to Sebastian, so we wanted to get an early start. All was well until half way down the barge canal when we throttled back to look at an alligator and the engine died. Turned the key - nothing. Turned it again, again, again - nothing. We dropped anchor (but were too close to the bank to really help) and Chris messed with the manual fuel pump while I held the boat off the bank with a boat pole. An hour later, we figured it out and, after a breif grounding, we were on our way. La Le Lu and her crew brought up the rear of an orderly progression of ECSA sailboats headed down the Indian River. The wind was out of the south west, a bit light and fluky at times, but was quite sail-able for most of the day. Just to keep us on our toes, we were treated to an angry thunder cell that passed right over the anchorage, as everyone was setting their hooks. Other than that, the Saturday evening cocktail hour was a relatively boring spectator’s event. No boats ran aground, no boats drug anchor, and we all were rocked gently to sleep. In fact, with the exception of the sound of some howling wolves (courtesy of the Conrads calling for the Windsors) and the hum of a dingy motor circling the anchorage, Saturday night was calm and peaceful with a lovely light breeze. It was so nice to have an extra day to play – every weekend should be three days long. On Sunday some folks fished, some went to the beach and tide pools, and other chatted in the pavilion with those arriving via land yacht. The weather was pleasant as was the company of fellow sailors. In total, by Sunday I think we had about 22 boats in the anchorage. A club BBQ/Potluck was followed by another good night at anchor, and Monday morning arrived with a brisk east wind. Before my eyes were even opened I heard the wind outside, smiled to myself and thought BEAM REACH! The wind was blowing almost directly out of the east and fairly steady at 14-17 knots. We all had an exhilarating sail up the river. I saw boats with their rails buried, and their captains at the helm wearing Cheshire grins. We flew up the river making 6.5 knots most of the way and even hit 7.1 for a few minutes. Chris enjoyed the sail so much that he said it more than made up for all the times in the past we have had to motor into a headwind. At one point when we were really healing, Chris went to check on Park down in the cabin to see if she was scared. Quite to the contrary, she and the cats had found a comfy spot on the leeward side and had settled in for a little cat nap.