A Quiet Inlet

We won’t live on a sailboat forever. Oh, there are many folks who continue to live on their sailboats that are much older than we are. But 4 ½ years ago when we moved aboard, we said that it would be for 2 to 10 years, “as long as we’re enjoying it."

Well, it is beginning to feel like we are on the backside of that mountain with regard to our live-aboard years. We talk about living on land again from time to time. We try to figure out what we will do next. How fortunate we are to have the luxury of thinking about it for a while.

Today we are alone, resting in the Winyah Bay, just off the Atlantic. We’ve seen a few fishing boats across the inlet, but other than that, it’s very quiet here. Just nature and us. Earlier today, we watched a pod of dolphins, through our binoculars, as they were some distance away.  


There were at least 6 of them that we could see based upon the number of fins that broke the surface in various locations. They were swimming slowly round and round in a long loop. Gathering their dinner we figured. Occasionally, we saw one big splash and sometimes a small bit of some thing come flying out of the water and land back in again.  Part of a fish, no doubt. The rest of the fish would have been in a dolphin’s mouth, I’m sure.

It made me wonder about the things that I might miss the most when we no longer live on the water. I think it will be things like those dolphins over there, catching their dinner. They weren’t put there for our entertainment. We didn’t pay anything to see them. The dolphins couldn't care less that there were two people watching them. There are lots of other things just like that, too, that I think I will miss the most.

It probably won’t be the many islands we’ve visited or the U.S. cities we’ve visited, like St. Augustine, Florida and Savannah, Georgia or Charleston, South Carolina. It won’t be sailing through New York City, although that was very cool. I don’t think it’ll be going to Plymouth, Massachusetts or Newport, Rhode Island or Bar Harbor, Maine.  

I guess the reason that I think it won’t be those things is that a person could get on an airplane, or drive a car to go see those places.  When we arrived there, we and every other tourist was interested in seeing the same things—historical sites and local foods and art. And we enjoyed them thoroughly.

But the part that only we will see, we and about a few thousand other cruisers that travel by boat, is all the wonderful stuff that wasn’t planned or expected.  After we live on land again, we will most likely never see dolphins in a quiet inlet, corralling their dinner together. Why? Because at this time, we are living on a boat at anchor in that inlet and we have all day to sit here for whatever happens next.

We will never have the good fortune to be escorted across the Bahama Bank by a group of dolphins that take turns at our bow. When the lead dolphin peels off another immediately takes his place as the lead. As if they are playing with us and saying, “come this way.” Oh, and the hundreds of dolphins that we met one day, all day on the Atlantic—we were sailing south off the New Jersey coast and the dolphins were all headed north to the fall hunting grounds.

There are incredibly beautiful places along the waterways: the rivers and ICW, bays, and oceans, as well as in natural harbors that only people on boats will ever see. We will likely never see these kinds of places again.  When we live on land, we will never see phosphorescence on the ocean in the night. Thousands of little sparkles on the water alongside the hull as it moves through the water.  Fireflies of the ocean. Carl has explained to me that they are actually plankton emitting light when the water is disturbed. An amazing phenomenon, I think.

We will never hear snapping shrimp on the other side of the hull, sounding for all the world like popcorn popping. We will probably never go out in a dinghy in the nighttime and see little flying fish jump out of the water across our path by the light of our headlamps.  

I am quite certain we will never again be surrounded by thousands and thousands of flying fish all going in the same direction that we were, off the island of St. Lucia.  Northern Star flying along under full sail, and the flying fish flying with us, probably being hunted by bigger fish.

We will never again watch a circus while sitting in our dinghy being performed across a stage of three connected sailboats, using the rigging for aerial acrobatics, as we did on the island of Martinique. Never again be rocked asleep to the sound of island music in the distance.  Nor are we likely to ever wander over to an uninhabited island and go exploring by ourselves.

It is unlikely that we will spend days and evenings anchored in quiet places like this one, miles from any other person, surrounded by marshland, open water and birds of all kinds. Terns that dive headfirst into the water from great heights. 

Pelicans who do the same, but without as much grace. Herons and egrets that can stand in the marsh and yet still be above it on their pencil-thin legs.  Flamingoes that look like pink flying sticks. Sea birds that fly in synchronous patterns evenly spaced—when their backs are to us, they make a herringbone pattern; when as one, they turn their chests to us, the pattern is like black and white lace.  

And of course, the Magnificent Frigate birds whose mating ritual is a soaring and swooping dance so beautiful that it took my breath away.  Oh, to see love expressed in such elegance! Or lust. It’s possible to see Frigate Birds on land, too but rather unlikely to see the dance in the sky.

And oh my, I have fallen in love with snorkeling. I guess I could go on snorkeling vacations again when I live on land, but it won’t be anything like jumping off the back of the boat and seeing incredible creatures right there, beside our home.  There are so many things that live in the water that I had no idea existed.

Seventy one percent of the earth is covered with water, and we have seen only a tiny bit of it.  I guess it will have to do, won’t it.

Roti, Ackee and Christophene

A rare sight---a garden in a backyard in St. John's, Antigua

I’ll give you three guesses.  Roti, Ackee and Christophene……what do you think these are names for?  

The man with the knife is removing the outer husk from the sugar cane.

Nope, not a law firm. Not a Roto-Rooter type thing, nor a septic sucking company. Good guesses though.  Give?  These are foods we have been eating recently.  Some with greater appreciation than others.

A Pork Roti that I couldn't wait to dig into.

Roti (RO-tee) is sort of a Caribbean version of an empanada or of a Northern Minnesota pasty. It is filled with curried chicken, pork or beef and potato, and sometimes filled with a combination of veggies only. I haven’t found one yet that I didn’t like! 

Roadside vendor in St. John's

There are little restaurants and small portable stands alongside the roads that sell hot rotis.  

This is the "famous" Roti Sue

One place nearby that we like particularly is called Roti Sue’s.  I’ve watched Sue roll out the tender floury dough to a very thin and stretchy circle that is then placed on a griddle by her helper. After it has been cooked and flipped over, it is placed onto a plate, upon which is piled your choice of filling and then the roti is “sealed” up and turned over to make a delicious little “package” for lunch. 

The helper that flips the roti

I noted with interest that a long, narrow,  smooth-edged stick is used to handle the roti on the hot griddle. Watching her flip the roti  reminded me of making potato lefse at Christmas time in Minnesota. In fact, roti does look like lefse before it is filled with the curry.

Another roti restaurant--5 small oilcloth-covered tables with bright green chairs.  St. John's, Antigua

We can buy a roti for lunch that will cost somewhere between 10 and 20 EC.  (EC=Eastern Caribbean money).  Divide the ECs by 2 1/2 to calculate the cost in U.S. dollars.  At Roti Sue’s, we can buy a delicious, filling roti for only $3.70 US.  

Roadside truckload of coconuts.  The coconut water is
being funneled into a plastic bottle for sale.

Along with the roti, we may choose one of her freshly bottled juices such as starfruit, pineapple and ginger, or mango for another 5 EC.  Sometimes folks who make roti will peddle them in the mornings where there are a lot of people around. They come wrapped in aluminum foil and just need to be reheated closer to lunch time. 

Two small christophene and a dragon fruit

“Christophene” is the name that Antiguans use for this next food.  In other parts of the Caribbean or Central America, it is called Chayote (chah-YO-tay).  It’s an amazingly useful and very versatile food, and although I find it hard to think of it as a squash, that is indeed the family to which it belongs. I’m shaking my head though……it tastes nothing like any squash I’ve ever had; it has a negligible outer peel which does not have to be removed before eating raw.  

Open air market

We have found that we really like raw chayote in a hearty salad. Using chayote, I can make a salad that keeps well for days. I start with some cooked brown rice, black beans, a chopped orange or yellow pepper, green pepper, chopped red onion and instead of using apple which I always did in the U.S., I chop up a couple of chayotes instead.  When I’ve served the salad to others, they’ve think they’re eating apple or cucumber or some kind of fruit.  The taste of the chayote is mild and blends perfectly with whatever it is paired with.  I top the salad with the juice of a couple limes, or a mixture of some olive oil, apple cider vinegar, salt, pepper and maybe a little cayenne. 

One of our favorite salads aboard Northern Star

Chayote can be cooked too, of course.  It can be sautéed with onion and garlic, or boiled and used in place of a starchy vegetable in any kind of dish. I’ve seen a recipe using it in lasagna in place of the pasta!  It keeps very well for several days as long as it’s out of the sun.  And once it’s cut up into the salad, it does not turn color like apples tend to do. Oh, and it’s an economical food too.

Ackee within their rinds.  Below them, starfruit.

Ackee is a quite unusual food in my book.  When we saw it in an open air market, my guess was that it was a fruit because it’s pretty and has a thick outer rind.  It is, however, a vegetable.  Hmph! So, we bought some while in St. John’s, the largest city on Antigua because we just had to try it.  

A woman bringing her purchases home from market.

The friends we were with bought some ackee too, and wisely stored theirs in the refrigerator until it was used.  Inconveniently for our ackee, we were in the midst of equalizing our batteries (meaning, we shut down the freezer and fridge for several hours) and our ackee grew fluffy white foam after the second day without refrigeration.  In short, it became quite icky…..or ackee. It was dead.  

The black "ball" is the ackee seed. The vegetable
itself is only ~ 1-2" long

Our friends had us over for dinner and served us a pork dish which used slices of cooked ackee.  Here is our friends’ report on the process of working with the ackee.  “The seed (big black ball thingy on top) did not come off easily, like one might have expected.  Then, the yellow ackee had to be sliced thinly.  It did not slice easily either.  It was tedious,” she said.  I believe I heard the word “tedious” repeated another time or two.  The taste was uninspiring.  I actually have no idea what it tasted like because I really couldn’t discern the flavor within the dish.  The general consensus of the four of us was, “Meh.”  

Public market in St. John's.  In the foreground, many different root vegetables.

I’ve only come across ackee that one time and I won’t look for it again.  It was not inexpensive and I’m banning it from my galley.  No ackee. Huh…..that’s what I used to say when I wanted one of my children to spit out something that should not have gone into their mouths,  “No….that’s ackee!”

Pickled pork snout and pork tail were a Christmas "special" in Jolly
Harbour, Antigua. We did not try any snout nor tail.

Doing the Numbers: What's Next?

Northern Star on the ocean

April 11, 2017 marked the end of our second full year living aboard S/V Northern Star.  Seven hundred and thirty days with water below.  Does it feel like it was that long, you ask? My answer is, "well, the last few months did seem to have more days in them than usual." Lightning, followed by 59 days in a marina plugged into shore power kinda alters the time/space continuum as it is perceived in my head.  Lying flat on my back in pain for the better part of 4 weeks didn't help much either.

Jax loves to travel by car

When we moved aboard, we planned to keep a running tally of how many nights we were 1- at anchor,  2- attached to a mooring, 3- in a marina slip,  4- underway (overnight passage making) and how many we nights we spent 5-away from the boat visiting family and friends. Like a few other great ideas we had about boat life, we didn't follow through with it.  If I were to hazard a guess however, it would be that that we were at anchor ~ 380 nights, on a mooring ~60 nights, in a marina slip ~ 270 nights, underway (overnight passages) ~8 nights, and away from the boat ~ 42 nights.  (When we leave the boat to travel on land, the boat is left in a marina, for safety precautions). If I dug around for a bit using my calendar, my notes in Active Captain on my iPhone, receipts from marinas and the Ship's Log, I could probably come up with exact figures but somehow I no longer care enough about those numbers to do that. I will say that we attempt to spend the bulk of our time at anchor because:  1- it's free, 2- it's quieter, 3-the boat naturally points into the wind so the boat is cooler. and 4- we enjoy the cameraderie of the cruising community while at anchor.  There's nothing like it.  Alas, I do know that we have spent many more nights in a marina than we wanted to because of mechanical or electronic issues.

Another thing we had planned to do was to document (using a spreadsheet and diagram) where every single thing we brought onboard was located. (Imagine labeling every nook and cranny where you store things in your house on land!) Initially, we thought this was a fanTAStic idea! I got as far as counting all the separate hiding places on the boat. There are 84 places to put things away on Northern Star.  84!! But labeling each of them with an identifying name and/or number to write on the diagram was where I got bogged down.  I could designate each cubby or spot by labeling it with a P or an S (Port or Starboard) but from there on things got all muddled in my head. Should I use a simple numbering system? ie. P1 through P4_? Were we actually going to refer to a diagram that was going to be incredibly crammed with information in teeny tiny little print? We abandoned the idea as being mentally exhausting.  Suffice it to say, we have an unbelievable number of things stored in those 84 hiding places.

Storage is behind and beneath cushions, under the bed, etc.

Usually I remember where the item lives. I will not even hazard a guess at how many hours have been wasted in fruitless searches for items that we know are somewhere on the boat?  I could throw some guesstimates out there, but that would only serve to irritate me and it's such a pretty day today.

There are two rules of thumb I have learned about finding things onboard. First off, if the item is not found within the first five minutes of the hunt, it's very unlikely to be found in the next twenty. It is more productive to forget about the search altogether and distract myself with a little cleaning. Cleaning often turns up whatever we are looking for. 

Secondly, whenever a new thing comes onboard and is assigned a place to belong, I best not, under any circumstances make the mistake of moving it to a "better" place later on. There is no better place than the first place because that's the only place I'll remember later.  

Chart plotter

How many electronic devices needed to be replaced due to the lightning strike? LOTS and lots of them.  Essentially, every piece of electronics that uses a circuit board was toast after the lightning encounter on January 23rd.  The inverter, chart plotter, autopilot, GPS, compass, electric winch, VHF radio, tank monitors, water pump, navigation lights, two cameras, lots of gauges, and so on and so on....all needed to be replaced in part or whole.
 

Sunrise on the Little Bahama Bank, Abacos, Bahamas

Our most recent grand plan, developed before we headed to the Bahamas last winter, and before we experienced the lightning episode was this--we would return to the States in the spring to a boatyard that would allow us to work on our own boat. Our mast and boom have some corrosion and we planned to have them painted. We would also replace our standing rigging (the steel cables that attach to the deck and to the mast) as it is 15 years old and we figured it was time to replace all of that, especially while the mast is down anyway. 

Northern Star in Oriental, NC

We planned on spending no less than 30 days doing this work. It's tedious and time-consuming to remove every piece of hardware and to prep the mast and boom for painting.  By itself, the painting would require some 10 to 12 steps to complete. Consequently, this was our plan for the summer of 2017.  No time for the long cruise up to Maine as we did last summer. Just get this big project done, doing as much of the work ourselves as possible.  

Jax never asks "Are we there yet?"

I wanted to be able to report the number of miles traveled in the first two years of living aboard, but that is extremely difficult to do with any accuracy.  The ICW (Intra Coastal Waterway) does not go in a straight line, and when out on the open water, sailboats are notorious for tacking in order to take advantage of the wind direction.  But, wildly estimating, from Annapolis, Maryland to the Abacos in the Bahamas, back to the U.S. and up to Maine, then back down the coast to the Abacos, I'm going to say we sailed (or at least traveled) no less than 6000 miles at blistering speeds of 3 to 7 1/2 knots, or 3 1/2 to 8 1/2 mph.  If this seems like we were only plodding along, remember that "it's the journey, not the destination."  A wise sailor/philosopher said that and I heartily agree with her.

This is how NOT-to bend over.

Oddly enough, but fortuitously, the rigger that we hired to go up the mast to evaluate the condition of the mast and standing rigging returned to us with an evaluation that was most positive.  On a grading scale from A to F, the rigger gave our standing rigging a grade of A!  Further, he judged the corrosion on the mast to be essentially cosmetic.  Wow! So, our plan to spend 30 days or more working on our mast this summer was erased. Again I say--WOW!  But that was our plan!  Our only plan for the summer. We had not considered the possibility that we would need a back-up plan for summer!  Nor the possibility that I would need time to recuperate following back surgery.

White-tailed deer.  Photo taken yesterday from the car.

So, here we are--in Minnesota--visiting my family and our friends--and without a plan for what comes next when we return to the boat! What an odd circumstance. What's our new plan? When will I be ready to resume the active role of First Mate on a sailing vessel? Soon, surely very soon.

Voices in the Night

Boat owner with anxiety about stern damage.  Wakes himself up screaming!

I have vivid dreams and not infrequently, I wake myself from them while yelling.  My dreams often have a theme of getting lost so when I wake myself, it is usually because I’ve dreamed I am lost or have been left behind. In real life, before I get on a plane, I have this anxiety that they’re not going to let me on the plane for some reason.  What that reason might be, I can’t imagine.  

Little bird got lost inside our boat on the ICW.

Perhaps I am anxious, too, about the boat sailing away without me when she leaves port?  Carl would surely notice my absence, right?  So, here we are, moving around, from port to port.  We have never been lost.  In spite of that, I suppose I will continue to ward off the “lost” demons on a regular basis by shouting at them a couple times a week in the night.  

Reviewing charts with a friend from Duluth who came by to visit.

We always avoid telling people about our sailing destination plans, largely because we have avoided making firm plans.  We figure this is the best way to enjoy a sailing lifestyle.  It is not because we fear getting lost on the way.  But, we sort of have a plan now, at least in a general sort of way, for this summer.  For all you folks who have patiently been asking, “where are you going to go on your boat?” and have heard us say, “We don’t really know,” this may be the closest to a real answer that you get.

Lovely Charleston.

Okay, so to bring readers up to date—we crossed the Gulf Stream to Fernandina Beach, Florida and then after a few days, took another hop on the ocean to Charleston.  In Charleston, we met an old friend from Duluth, and one of our blog readers who also has a Saga 43, and was kind enough to pick us up in his car, bring us to dinner and give us a broader tour of Charleston than what we were able to do on our bus tour last time through.  

Jax complaining because we had to wait for this bridge to open.

Although the ocean passages had not been difficult, it was taking a couple of days following each passage to rest up.  So, after enjoying Charleston, we decided to go up the ICW for a while.

Historic clock tower in Georgetown, S.C.

 On the ICW, we average about 50 miles/day.  The ICW provides opportunities to see historic little towns off the beaten path.  We enjoyed a visit to Georgetown, S.C., an historic town that thankfully, was not destroyed during the Civil War.  Now, in addition to the historic structures, it has five museums, and offers water tours of the Georgetown Lighthouse downriver on the ocean inlet and a plantation nearby.  We took in a couple of establishments, preferring the funkier places to the white tablecloth restaurants.  We left Georgetown at 0630 the next morning in order to get out on the high tide.  

Waterfront of Georgetown.  A boat friendly town with lots of great restaurants!

Today we crossed the wide Cape Fear River, going upstream with the tide, and we are now in a protected mooring ball field in Carolina Beach, part of the Wilmington, NC area.  We’re supposed to have a big blow with a lot of rain over the next couple days.  We’ll stay put here for that.  Then on to Oriental, N.C. where we will meet up with some old friends who live in Raleigh and will drive to meet us in that lovely little sailing community.  

Cape Fear River is incredibly WIDE.  At times, can barely see the shores. 

The Chesapeake Bay and Annapolis will be next, where we will address boat maintenance tasks.  A couple of the tasks will require the boat to be out of the water.  Carl and I can stay on the boat while it’s up on the hard, but Jax is another matter.  We have to figure out a plan for Jax for that period.  Northern Star will probably be in the Annapolis area for about a month.

Carolina Beach anchorage where we found a mooring ball to wait out heavy weather coming.

Some fellow live-aboard friends in Annapolis are planning to head up to New England on their sailboat, Narwhal along about June 20.  We would like to buddy boat with them north.  If we can get as far as Maine, that will be wonderful!  Of course, we will need to turn around and start heading south again before it gets too cold in the fall, so there’s our quasi-plan for the next five months or so.

Sunrise over Battery Park in Charleston Harbor.

A few nights ago, Carl woke me up with talking in his sleep.  He rarely talks in his sleep, so I pay close attention when he does.  In a very earnest voice, he said calmly,  “Ardys…..what…what should we do?  Who should we follow?”  The correct answer to this question is of course, Narwhal, since we will be traveling to New England together.  But I replied, “Go to sleep” and in my head said, ‘I already got the “lost” demons covered, Babe.’