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.

Cars, UBER and AirBnB

Cars are a problem to some degree, for cruisers. The question is Where do we leave it? Do we leave it somewhere near an airport so that it will be easy to return to by air? Do we leave it somewhere we will sail back to on the coast? Some cruisers just get rid of the car altogether when they are liveaboards.

Beginning of winter 2018-19

Last winter, before we returned to our boat in Trinidad, we left our Subaru at our friend’s cabin where we had been staying outside of Duluth, Minnesota.  A large soft-sided storage shed on their property was home to their camper, a neighbor’s snowmobiles, bikes, lawn furniture, etc.  There was plenty of room for our Subaru and we were thankful to be able to leave it there, protected from the harsh elements of winter.

Our Subaru is holding up the center support beam

In March, our friends with the cabin reluctantly contacted us to say that the shed’s roof had collapsed under 3+ feet of snow and was now resting on top of our Subaru. The story we shared amongst ourselves was this, “The Subaru took one for the team. Everything else stored in the shed was protected by our sturdy car which was pinned under the weight of the roof’s center beam.

Carl, George and Ron recover car from shed

We finally saw the damage in June. The windshield became a malleable spider web of shatterproof glass that I could push back and forth with my hand. The back window was nonexistent, and the hood had acquired a V in the center. Oddly enough, all of the car doors still opened and the engine started right up.  And yet, our Subaru was totally undriveable, being a foot shorter than the last time we’d seen it.

Add caption

Being the cost conscious folks that we are, we had removed the Comprehensive Auto insurance from the car while it was sitting safely in storage. Seemed like a smart thing to do at the time. Sigh. So, our trusty Subaru Outback went to a junk yard in return for a few hundred dollars, where it was quickly dismantled. Some lucky person now has our perfectly good engine and maybe the four doors.

Subaru became "tourist" attraction

So, you see, our primary task upon returning to the U.S. in May was to buy a “new” car in Florida.  On the first day we found the perfect auto, a 2014 Honda CRV EX with 44,000 miles.  Since then, we have driven the circle tour around the eastern half of the U.S.

Anhinga's body is submerged while
swimming, Florida

We started out in Brunswick, Georgia where we left the boat for the start of hurricane season. We drove to the Villages in Florida to visit my sister Bev and her partner. Then along the Gulf to Ocean Springs, Alabama, to enjoy an excellent meal at an ocean side restaurant owned by one of Carl’s H.S. classmates. Next stop was Hattiesburg, Mississippi where Carl received his Bachelor’s degree in Biology. After 40 years, the campus had changed so much that he recognized only a few buildings.

Palisade Head, repelling down
to Lake Superior

From there, we drove to Memphis, Tennessee to see Carl’s sisters and families and then followed the Mississippi to southeastern Minnesota where most of my family lives. Next came Duluth where we saw as many friends as we possibly could and made a trip to the Canadian border to pick up our Global Entry passes.

High water in Grand Marais, MN

The next stop was Chicago where we stayed with Carl’s son, Brian and his wife. Then it was on to Washington D.C. where Carl’s daughter, Karen is living once again. She has agreed to keep our car for us for the next few months.

Chicago

We neglected to make lodging arrangements in D.C. until a couple days before arrival, so our options were limited. It boiled down to either an expensive hotel or an expensive AirBnB.   Except, lo and behold, I did find one AirBnB that was brand new—we would be their first customers, and it was downright CHEAP! We grabbed it. 

Our AirBnB room was spacious with three beds; they were comfortable enough and we shared a bathroom. We’re easygoing about things like that. Our hosts were two males who shared the apt. I would describe them as tidy people with minimal experience in home decoration.  (I think that may be said of many males of our species.)

Subway in Washington D.C.

A slight problem arose when I said, “We would like some bath towels.”

“Oh, of course,” our host said with a strong accent, and hurried to the closet, and pulled out a fat roll of paper towels and handed it to me. Hmmm. English must be a second language for him. I needed a different tactic.

The Postal Museum is very interesting

“Towels for taking a shower,” I said pointing toward the bathtub. Our host showed me the toilet paper roll on the wall.

“No, no, I mean for bathing,” and I mimed washing my hair to illustrate the explanation.

“Oh, there is shampoo there,” he said brightly.

Carl gets wanded by Security every time =
titanium knees

This time I held my arms far apart to describe something large. “No, no, a big towel.”

“Oooh,” he said. He hunted through his closet, his roommate’s closet, the hall closet, and some drawers, without success.  Then he said, “I’m sorry, my roommate doesn’t know how to prepare for guests. He put a towel on a bed in your room. Well, okay, there was ONE towel that had been draped over a bedpost on the third bed in our room. It wasn’t folded and so I thought it was left there accidentally; maybe it wasn’t even clean. In addition, there was a small hand towel on my bed, again not folded.

Wolf Trap National Park for the Performing Arts - Susan Tedeschi and
Derek Trucks Band. Fantastic concert following a drenching downpour.

It became apparent to us that there were no more bath towels that would be forthcoming. Carl volunteered to shower using only the small hand towel. He earned extra points from me for that. I was thus left with a large bath towel for my shower. All was right with the world, or at least acceptable.

The plan for our car this summer was to leave it with Karen whose apartment in Arlington, Virginia came with a parking space but she has no car. Perfect. We would leave our car with her and rent another car to drive to Brunswick, GA where our boat is sitting in the water.  

Waiting for the Hertz rep to show up

The next day, we would drive to Hertz Rent-a-Car by noon, pick up a car and leave ours at Karen’s apt.  Then drive to Raleigh, NC to stay overnight with friends. The following day, we’d drive on to Brunswick and after loading up on groceries, return the rental car. Easy. Good plan.

We lingered in our AirBnB the next morning. We didn’t want to pick up the rental car too early in the day. When we went out at 11:00 AM, our car was gone. We did the usual thing that people do when they find their car is missing.  We looked up and down the street, you know, just on the off chance that the car had moved by itself during the night, or that maybe both of us were mistaken in remembering that we had parked it in the small lot directly in front of the AirBnB. Nope… the car had not wandered off on its’ own to a preferred location.

Back and forth on this route

Carl called the police to report our car stolen.  The officer checked our license plate and said that our car had been towed. What the..? He gave us the number of the towing company to contact. While we waited for Uber to bring us to Hertz, I walked around the front of the building again, annoyed that there had been no sign telling us not to park where we had parked.  But then, there, off to the far left of the lot, under the shade trees was a sign that said Permit Parking Only. Violators Will Be Towed. Could they have made the sign any more obscure?

Our "new" car in jail at Pete's Towing. 

So, Uber to Hertz. Then rental car back to our AirBnB to retrieve our bags. Next stop - Pete’s Towing in Falls Church, VA. The tow truck driver was apologetic. “I’m sorry your car was towed. Management called to have it towed at 12:55 AM.” We’d arrived there just a little after midnight and our AirBnB host knew we parked there.

Catbird in Raleigh, NC

From Falls Church, we drove both cars to Karen’s apartment. We deposited our car there, transferring our bags into the rental car and left for Raleigh, North Carolina finally at 2:00 PM.  As of the writing of this post, we have reason to believe that nothing bad has befallen our car sitting outside of Karen’s apt. But…….you never know about these things. Could be a hailstorm in the offing?  Maybe an earthquake, flood? Meteorite? Lesson #423 – Never Remove Comprehensive Car Insurance.

Brunswick Landing Marina on the St. Simons River, Brunswick, GA

                                                                  

The Criminal Element in the Bahamas

Georgetown weathervane

Through no fault of our own (at least that is my interpretation and why should I go with any other) we have run afoul of the law here in the Bahamas but without any ill effects.

Held up for 3 nights for weather on Acklin Island before getting to Georgetown

We entered Bahamian waters on April 28th near the island of Mayaguana and we only cleared in officially, with Customs & Immigration today, May 6th in Georgetown, Great Exuma Island. Unlike other countries we have visited, the C & I officers here in Georgetown had no interest in whether we had exited the previous country, the Turks and Caicos, under good terms. Didn’t ask to see any previous clearance papers. I was afraid there would be fines, etc although today was the first day we were actually able to clear in, given weather and weekend interference.“Enjoy your time in the Bahamas,” was all we got. 

Dock at Black Point Settlement, north of Georgetown

It almost makes a person wonder what would happen if you never cleared in at all. Just raised your Bahamas courtesy flag and sailed right on through the 600 miles or so to the U.S. I am not a reprobate nor a risk-taker and so would never do such a thing myself. But the fact that the Bahamian C & I charges a sailboat over 30’ to pay $300 (US) for the privilege of traversing the Bahamas—-well, I would think somebody along the line would have tried it. They’re probably now languishing in chains in some dark, smelly dungeon in Nassau. 

A favorite fruit, the giant Pomolo, 

No, I believe in following the rules on the water and on land. I’m not always happy to do it however. Take for example, our tedious and uncomfortable effort to clear out of the Turks and Caicos nine days ago.

Georgetown park in front of Customs and Immigration

We crossed the Caicos Bank from east to west on a Friday, with the intent to clear out of the country on Saturday. We were tired from long sailing days and planned to spend the day snorkeling and relaxing after clearing out and then get right back to sailing on. 

Providenciales, in Turks & Caicos

9:00 AM We went ashore on the island of Providenciales, or Provo as it is commonly called, and beached our dinghy on a white sand beach. A man there offered to watch our dinghy, our concerns being theft and the possibility of it floating away when the tide came up.

Chalk Sound next to Police Dept

There are two places on the island of Provo to clear out with Customs & Immigration. One of them, a marina tucked into a shallow harbor has C & I on site 7 days/week. Unfortunately, the draft of our boat is too deep for that marina except at high tide. We were not about to waste 24 hours by waiting for a high tide to enter and for another to leave.

Road from beach to Freight Port, Provo

9:30 AM The other way to go through C & I is at the Freight Port, where the cargo ships come in. We learned after walking ourselves to the Port Office, that C & I would come in on the weekends only when a cargo ship comes in. (The cruising guide we consulted had said nothing about that.) A cargo ship was en route they said and “should be here by 11 or 12:00.” So, we strolled down the dusty road in a thumb-twiddling state.

Carl sitting in shade at Police station

Provo is a desert island. There are no shade trees. And scant few buildings in the area near the Port. It’s very hot. I regretted not drinking more water before leaving the boat. The only spot of shade two loiterers like ourselves could find was on the front step of the police department down the road. So, there we sat until thirst overtook us. So we trudged further along to a gas station/convenience store. 

EnR - Emergency & Rescue

A lone young woman was at the register. How long can a couple of tall, imposing characters like ourselves linger around inside a store ogling the refrigerated section and sidling up to the the air conditioning before starting to look like they’re “up to something” nefarious? Not long enough, let me tell you. Two cold beverages and a snack accompanied us back to our spot of shade on the step of the police department. 

Photographed birds while
waiting. This guy sings
his heart out

11:30 AM. Trodding back to the Port Office through that same inch of fine dust we’d stirred up earlier. “The ship should be here about 1:00 or after,” they said. Hmph. Out into the desert once more. This time we schlumped along until we found a bar/cafe that was open. The cafe actually had good food. We began to think that our luck was turning. It wouldn’t be long now and we’d be on our way.

Lunch of cracked conch and plantain spears

1:00 PM. We slowly hauled ourselves back to the Port office. “Oh, the ship won’t be in for a couple of hours.” I may have groaned aloud. One of the nice young men in the office offered to call C & I to see whether they could be encouraged to come in before the ship arrived. No answer. That was the same result that we had had earlier in the morning when we tried calling.” So much for our luck changing. Now what to do. We’d already found and taken advantage of all the available air conditioned buildings open to us in the vicinity of the Port. 

a wee spot of shade by gated beach house

What to do…what to do….? Neither of us was energetic enough to make a decision. Maybe Carl could bring me back to the boat? We made it partway back to the beach toward our dinghy and then stopped under a wee spot of shade offered by some bougainvillea bushes. There was absolutely no purpose in going back out to the boat.  A half hour to get there and another half hour to return to the Port office? Where’s the sense in that?

The only true flowers on bougainvillea are
the tiny white ones surrounded by leaves
that turn many different colors.

We needed to do something with ourselves however. Something. The bushes were alongside a gated beach house and we stood there until we began to feel like lurkers, casing the joint. Anyway, there was no place to sit down anywhere. Carl’s foot was hurting…..a plantar fasciitis thing we think. What to do? What to do? “What do you wanna do?” “I don’t know. I don’t know what to do.” “What do you wanna do?” At least we were in complete agreement that we were individually and as a couple, completely useless in developing a plan. 

Scaling the hill

Then we noticed someone standing on top of the hill next to the beach…a rocky, cactus and prickly bush-covered hill. The hill lay between us and the Shipping Port. A potential shortcut, if you will, to the Port office. “We could climb the hill for something to do?” “Do you really want to climb a hill?” “No, but what should we do then?” “I don’t know.” “If we climb the hill we can see when the ship comes in. Plus, there’s probably a nice view from up there.” “I’m really hot.” ”There’d be more of a breeze up there.” “That’s true.” “So should we go?” “Ya, let’s go.” “Oh, look there’s a path over there.”

The freight ship we are waiting for--it'll be another 1 1/2 hours before it arrives.

I should mention that I was not wearing hiking shoes but rather slip-on sandals. And it was a very steep rocky hill. But now I risk sounding like a whiner. We skirted the sharpest cactus, found the most secure looking rocks and climbed to the top of the hill. Indeed, there was a nice breeze there. “And look, there are rocks we can sit on.” “And look out there; there’s the cargo ship out on the Caicos Bank.….faaaar away yet.” There we sat—the day slipping away. 

Down the other side of the hill. Freight yard below.

4:00 PM We watched the cargo ship approach the dock far below and we started down the other side of the hill to the Port Office hoping that C & I would be willing to clear us out before dealing with the cargo ship. Yes, they would. Excellent!  We were given hard hats and reflective vests to wear in the shipping yard. This was almost starting to be fun. I was trying to be more upbeat about the extremely hot, and wasted day. 

My first time wearing a hard hat. 

4:15 PM  In the C & I office. “We’re on a sailboat. We’d like to clear out of the country,” we said.  Two uniformed officers, a middle-aged man and a woman glanced at us, then looked at each other in what I would call a sheepish manner. Without saying a word to us and mumbling between themselves they rustled around the office. By that I mean, opening and closing file cabinet drawers, rifling through desk drawers, cabinets, moving things around on the counters. Earnest Rustling if I ever saw it. Finally, the man pulled out his cell phone. We could hear part of the conversation, “We’ve got a ….a pleasure sailboat; …..wanna clear out …….where is the……..looked everywhere.” Neither had ever worked in that office before, they said. Just filling in for the regular guy. I’d have never guessed.

Alternate route back to beach.

All told, it took less than 10 minutes to complete the clearing out process. We opted not to scale the steep shortcut over the rock and cactus covered hill. We were back on the boat again only 8 hours after we’d left it with our silly plan of clearing out early and sailing on.

Fortunately, our dinghy was rescued.

Incidentally, the man who had “looked after” our dinghy noticed it was gone about mid-day, and told us he had found it innocently floating further down the shore. He readily acquiesced to a tip for looking after the dinghy; after all, he’d had to go out looking for it. (As if the dinghy had been naughty and given him a run for his money by making a break for it?) 

Sisal plant. See 12-14' stalk rising
out of center of the cactus-like plant.
Sisal was a crop used to make rope.

Although we’ve heard several sailors report having had a fine time in Provo, I regret to say I didn’t much care for this island.