A Little Malaise

Ibis at Mount Dora, Florida

My cell phone just may have given up the ghost. It’s been a little temperamental for months-- ever since I dropped the charging end of it into a bowl of salsa. (That’s a different story.) Sometimes the phone is willing to be charged….other times, no.  I’ve just been hoping that I could make it back to the U.S. before it died forever. 

Mississippi River running high through Memphis

Storm clouds chasing through Alabama

Well, the phone did make it back to the U.S. Survived through Georgia, Florida, Alabama, Mississippi, Tennessee, and into Missouri and then……..two weeks ago, while still in Missouri, it stopped taking any charge at all. So, a week ago, after we got to Duluth, we left my phone at one of those high techy electronic fix-it places staffed by guys wearing thoughtful dark-rimmed glasses who are younger than my children. Demoralizing. These are the new Ph.Ds’s of this world.

Country roads through northern Mississippi

Floods along Missouri River

So, there I was, traveling north through Iowa and Minnesota, without my phone. No email, no texting with my children and friends, no Google maps for navigation (I used Carl’s phone for that), no address book, no access to my doctor’s office, my Hennepin County library card, GoodReads where I keep track of the books I read and write reviews on them, my appointment calendar (when is my first doctor appointment anyhow? and whose birthday comes up next?), my alarm clock that reminds me it’s time to take my medicine, Facebook, my list of “things to look for when I get to Minnesota,” and no googling things like “I wonder if, when, where, who, what or why” such and such is. 

Sand bags in front of stores, Hannibal, MO

No access to a raft of passwords, no follow up on political events and commentary, no searching for “the best place to eat” in Hannibal, MO, no researching about how the current spring flooding on the Mississippi and Missouri Rivers compares with previous years. But, all of that wasn’t so bad. It’s a pretty drive, especially when one avoids the freeways which we were pretty good at doing.

Missouri flooding. Can't plant here. 

Now here I come to the guts of this tale. Getting back to Minnesota is always an exciting time for me. The comfort of seeing familiar places and people…it just feels good, for the most part. I’ve noticed, however, a spate of malaise of late. A bit of a dark shadow passing across my eyes. It’s really hard to say why this is so. Besides the loss of my phone, there are some contenders for responsibility. For one, it’s a bit of an adjustment to come from islands where people live more minimalistic lives, to the U.S. where we are surrounded by powerful interests, competing commerce, products, billboards, three dozen varieties of tomato sauce, and things, things and more things. Our wealth is obscene by comparison.

Iowa backroads

 For another, signs of climate change have been appearing all along the way. We have seen significant flooding nearly everywhere. It’s not unusual to see flooding along the Mississippi in the spring, of course, but this year seemed exceptionally wet. Mud slides along country roads, miles of inundated fields that could not be planted, even in Missouri where the planting season should be many weeks ahead of Minnesota, the corn was puny and patchy and I am referring to that old farmer’s phrase that suggests that “corn be knee-high by the 4th (of July)” Exceptionally cold days in Minnesota. Frost warnings in northern Minnesota well into June. 

Hannibal, MO. Train crept along over rails. Took half hour for train to pass

Weather extremes. We watched the first freight train creep through Hannibal, MO after the flood waters had receded a bit. The steel rails on the tracks were all that was visible above the flood water. Eerie. Last week there was 7 inches of rain in southern Minnesota in one dump. Highway 52 had to be closed. Heat warnings were posted across Germany and Paris. I think about the impact of climate change on our world a fair bit. We live on our planet within narrow parameters of weather and climate. Certainly enough concerns there to contribute to a level of malaise. When the coastal lands are under water and we can no longer grow root vegetables that like cooler weather, we’ll be hurting. 

Overlooking Mississippi River flood plain

Another possibility contributing to malaise. In southeastern Minnesota, I saw five of my six siblings. (I visited with the sixth sibling while in Florida). It seems to me that nothing highlights the changes that come with aging more than having been absent from loved ones for a while. 

Approaching Mississippi, southern Houston Co, MN

Aging is not a kind mother. She takes our skin that was once so taut and supple and morphs it into a less familiar body covering of wrinkles, skin tags, spots and sometimes cancer. I have certainly seen those things on myself. And all of that energy that we once had to corral small children at the same time that we gardened, cooked, cleaned, ran errands—I remember that person but could never replicate even one of those busy days now. Aging attacks some of us cruelly, even unfairly I say…..takes away abilities we took for granted such as sight, balance, memories.  

Sunset in Iowa

So, to what do I credit the malaise? Is it the loss of my cell phone?  Is it the stark disparity between the wealth of this country and so many poor places of the world? Is it global warming? Or is it coming face to face with how I and everyone I care about has aged since my last visit? The story we are told by the Ph.Ds at the techy place is that my phone will be fixed and returned to me today. Shame on me if the malaise disappears with the arrival of my cell phone. 

Vero Beach AKA Velcro Beach

I can’t believe I’m saying this.  I— LIKE—VERO—BEACH!

Neighborhood next to the Vero Beach City Marina

If I were to actually live (on land, I mean) in Florida, I have decided that it would have to be someplace with at least one Live Oak tree in my yard.  And if one, then why not several? Now that I’ve seen entire neighborhoods in which the Live Oaks play a major role, I cannot conceive of any reason to live in Florida without these unruly giants nearby.  

Live Oak tree limb bent low

We’ve been here in Vero Beach for two weeks (waiting for our weather window) and I still cannot walk through the area without gawking up at the trees as I go.  Old, gnarly and gangly limbs twisting this way and that, and frequently bowing so low as to nearly touch the ground.  Perhaps many would have, if not trimmed by some misguided soul who wanted to mow the grass.

Spanish Moss

Anyone who has ever seen a Live Oak tree has seen that dusty blue-green tinsel of Spanish Moss hanging from them.  I was introduced to Live Oak trees in the same way that many Minnesotan children of my generation were— at the movies, in “Gone With the Wind.”  I remember thinking that the Spanish Moss was part of the Live Oak tree.  Of course, it is not, but rather an epiphyte, a plant that takes its’ nourishment from the air rather than soil.  It is an entirely independent plant from the Live Oak and does no harm to the tree. 

Voluntary Orchid on Live Oak tree.

Other flowering plants of one kind or another also live on these Live Oaks including orchids!  On the grounds of the Vero Beach City Marina, there are more Live Oak trees than any other species!   Yes, there are palm trees, and a few Strangling Fig trees (which I will talk about more in a minute) but it’s the Live Oaks that are the show stoppers.  

Plant life growing on the Live Oaks

I learned today that the land on which the neighboring elementary school sits has the last piece of natural forest remaining on this barrier island between the Indian River and the Atlantic Ocean.  

The palm tree inside the Strangling Fig is all but hidden from view.

The Strangling Fig tree.  I was doing my usual “tree gawking” while waiting for my husband outside the bath facilities when I latched onto an unsuspecting gentleman walking past who looked as if he might know a thing or two.  Indeed he did.  The Strangling Fig wraps itself around another tree and ultimately envelops it until the tree within is all but hidden from view.  

These little lizards move fast--hard to catch them.

As the Strangling Fig establishes itself, it sends down epiphytic roots from upper limbs which eventually reach the ground and may take root in soil.  The knowledgeable gentleman also pointed out the small berries on the tree which are edible.  Not especially flavorful but nevertheless a source of nutrition for Native peoples on the coast.  He knew somebody that had cut the berries with some other fruit and made jelly with it. I discovered that the Strangling Fig tree is a predictable place to find little olive green lizards darting around, up and down the sides.

I never tire of the variety of plant life.

Live Oaks notwithstanding, in the sailing community, Vero Beach is known as a desirable place to spend time waiting to cross to the Bahamas.  I can understand where the nickname, “velcro” comes from.  The marina has an enormous mooring field and the nightly fee for a mooring ball is only $13!  Best deal we’ve come across anywhere!   There are more people living aboard here than we’ve seen anywhere, consequently there is a lot of dinghy traffic back and forth to shore and a lot of traffic between the boats, as well.  Meeting for morning coffee, to discuss the upcoming crossing or for sundowner drinks.  At dusk, somebody or other always blows a baritone conch shell, followed by another conch shell in more of a tenor range. 

More plant life on Life Oaks.

The marina has comfortable shower facilities, and is the only marina laundry we have come across with lots of both washers and dryers.  Reasonably priced as well.  The largest and nicest dog park I have ever seen is next door.  With upwards of 30 dogs or more there at one time, we have remarked to each other about how cheerful the dogs tend to be in that large space; and how well-mannered their two legged partners are as well.  

The beach on Vero Beach.

Within walking distance of the marina are beautiful beaches, a number of restaurants,  a very nice Art Museum in the park and the coup de grace—a bus stop at the dinghy dock.  We can dinghy to the dinghy dock, walk 100’ and get on a free city bus that takes us to a grocery store, West Marine, dive shop, Home Depot, Walgreens or any other store one might need in the city, all free!   Not to mention the free view of the forest of Live Oak trees!

Marina grounds

The weather window as predicted for this coming weekend seems to be holding firm for now.  The weather models predict a good opportunity to cross the Gulf Stream on Friday through Saturday.   Thus, time to peel away from Velcro Beach and move on down to West Palm Beach to be ready for the jump.  Fingers crossed that all remains good for a calm crossing.  

Speaking of "jumps".  Jax is the master of that.

Planning to Cross the Gulf Stream

Latitude 27 degrees 66’00” N  Longitude 80 degrees 37’14” E Vero Beach, Florida

Vero Beach Municipal Marina

When we last left our "heroine,"  she was scrubbing the boat within an inch of its’ life.  That fervor has since subsided and S/V NORTHERN STAR has continued her journey south within the barrier islands of eastern Florida on the ICW.*  

Goal:  To position our boat far enough south on the Florida shore to make the jump across the Gulf Stream without being pushed north of the Abacos Islands, the northernmost islands of the Bahamas.  

The Bahamas extend from the Abacos off the coast of Florida, to the Turks and Caicos Islands on the far east.

A Brief Tutorial on the Gulf Stream:

For those who were paying attention in school, the Gulf Stream is, of course, a powerful warm ocean current moving east out of the Gulf of Mexico and up the eastern coastline of the United States and Newfoundland on its way to Northern Europe.  The warmer Gulf water moves east between Cuba and the Florida coast and after it has cleared the large “obstacle” (Florida) in its’ path, shoots its' way north at an increased speed of 2 1/2 knots (or 5.6 mph) at the surface. So, here we have this jazzed up stream from the Gulf carrying both warmer water and warmer air northward where it will collide with the colder water and air of the North Atlantic.  As you know, warm air colliding with cold tends to produce squalls along the line where the two meet, and, wind from the north blowing against the northerly flowing current produces big waves.  End of today’s lesson.

Stratocumulus.  Cloud layers over horizon indicating convective activity.

Plan:  To get NORTHERN STAR across that fast moving stream of water as quickly as possible, and we need to do it when there are no squalls brewing and there is no northerly component to the wind. The Gulf Stream is about 62 miles wide and about 3,000 feet deep between the Bahamas and Florida.  For those 60 some miles, the Stream will be pushing our sailboat northward while we will be trying to go eastward.  We’ve decided that we will bring the boat at least as far south as West Palm Beach before crossing over to the Bahamas.  From there it is pretty much due east to the westernmost part of the Bahamas, the shortest route possible.

Dinghy dock at Vero Beach.  Jax waits for permission to jump out of the dinghy.

When we depart, however, we will set a course heading that is a few degrees south of our intended destination, given that the Gulf Stream will naturally be pushing the boat more northerly as we sail east.  Sailors call this tactic “crabbing.”  (Crabs walk sideways more often than not, as they are able to do that more quickly than moving forward. This is a function of how their legs are built. I hope that crabs end up where they plan to go. I hope we do too).   

Entry to Bahamas, northeast of West Palm Beach at Memory Rock South on the Little Bahama Bank.

Our intended entry into the Bahamas will be Memory Rock South, which is off the northwest coast of Grand Bahama Island.  Once we reach that point, we will be out of the Gulf Stream and we will be sailing on the very shallow waters of what is called Little Bahama Bank. 

We have enough provisions onboard for the next 10 weeks. 

Our job now is to be ready to go when the weather is right.   We have provisioned with foods that are difficult or extremely expensive to acquire in the Bahamas.  We watch the weather and listen to our weather router, Chris Parker, who broadcasts on SSB (Single Side Band radio) every morning.  A weather router is a person who has all of the available weather data sources at his disposal. The router is skilled at interpreting the weather information and anticipating the characteristics of the weather that will be developing near shore and offshore over the next day and the next week. This particular weather router is an experienced sailor, as well, who understands the implications of that weather for a boat at any given latitude/longitude of the eastern shore and the Caribbean.  

Spent a lovely day with an old friend from Duluth.  

For a fee, we also receive a daily afternoon email from him with updated information about the wind and waves and current forecast models.  Some clients also choose the additional service of talking directly to him with specific questions about their particular destination and route.   We can listen in on those conversations over SSB and benefit from that instruction, especially when the caller is in our vicinity.  With the help of the weather router, we can be fairly confident about choosing a departure day and specific time that will enable us to make the crossing without getting caught in nasty weather on the way.  As of now, it appears that we will likely not be crossing to the Bahamas for another week.  We await the next reasonable weather window.  

Brown Pelicans hang out nearby.

We received an email yesterday morning from friends, Jim and Chris Walden on S/V RadioWaves.   We met them while traveling on the ICW with them.  (Chris writes a blog too, called Mangoes, Marley and Mermaids. They have just arrived in the Bahamas.  They reported a somewhat uncomfortable crossing and said that they ended up entering the Bahamas 12 miles north of their intended destination, courtesy of the Gulf Stream, of course.   Yesterday afternoon we ran into some other Minnesotans on M/V Summer of ‘42, who invited us for wine and cheese on their boat, a big, beautiful trawler.  

Aboard M/V Summer of '42, a large trawler 

Along with a wonderful evening of ogling the trawler, sharing wine and delicious finger foods, we also were allowed to pick the brains of these much more experienced boaters, about traveling to and within the Bahamas.  Just what we need, of course—to benefit from the experiences of others.  And to enjoy another day in Vero Beach.  

Vero Beach Municipal Marina's huge mooring field.  Most boats are live aboards. 

*ICW  Intra-Coastal Waterway