"Hey, You're Going the Wrong Way!"

Isla Saona, off the southeast corner of the DR. A beautiful national park.

Geography can be hard. The largest land masses, the seven continents of North and South America, Africa, Europe, Asia, Australia and Antarctica……I had all of those solidly nailed down by the 6th grade thanks to our American public education system. 

I gave in to the teaching that Europe and Asia are considered two continents when in fact, they look pretty darn much like one huge land mass to me. Hmph. Go figure. And who got to decide that Australia was a continent but Greenland was too small to make the cut? Was there a vote? If so, Greenland and some other island nations needed better representation, but I digress. 

Puerto Bahía Marina, Samaná Peninsula, DR

Frankly, until only a few years ago, I was quite content to live my life without giving the smaller chunks of land sticking up out of the oceans any thought whatsoever. All of those thousands of smaller lands, the islands— their very existence occupied an embarrassingly small amount of gray matter in my head. 

Far from our usual marina experience, this is the most
elegant marina we have ever seen.  Inexpensive, too.

I confess this now only to put the readership at ease.  If for example, you have ever been one to surreptitiously dig out an atlas (or to Google) to see where we were while in Trinidad, Grenada, Bonaire, Curacao and now the Dominican Republic, as far as I am concerned, that  is no cause for shame. 

The town of Samaná, on the northeast side of the DR. Home of the Bridge to Nowhere.

Up until a month ago, we had no intention of being in the Dominican Republic right now. Why? Because it’s way north of Bonaire. And when we were in Bonaire, we were really pretty close to South America. Our plans (written in sand, as my husband is wont to say) were to sail to Colombia after the winds settled a bit, later on in April/May.  

Riding a 4 passenger motorized bike

From Colombia, we were to go on to the San Blas Islands (off the eastern Panamanian coast), then to Panama proper and perhaps further north in Central America for the hurricane season where we would have left the boat for a visit back to the U.S.

Our driver, a real ham. Made ambulance
siren sounds much of the way to the
Bridge to Nowhere.

I don’t know whether anybody else has had this thought, but one of our FB friends commented the other day, “Hey, you’re going the wrong way!” Now that guy knows his geography. Indeed, we have moved away from South America and toward the U.S.

Bridge to Nowhere--a resort project that
was abandoned.

For a variety of reasons, we decided that we were not inclined to sail on to Colombia and Central America at this time. Many of our sailing friends have already sailed there and onward. We love seeing FB reports of where they are and what they are doing. We would certainly have enjoyed sailing with them there, but that didn’t happen at the right time.  About a month ago, we looked around and realized that nobody had a gun to our heads saying “You MUST sail on to Colombia from Bonaire” and so we just decided not to.

At the far end of the Bridge to Nowhere

Call us whimsical; call us changeable, tumbleweeds blowin’ in the wind, or simply sailboat vagabonds, but we are heading back to the East Coast of the U.S. for the hurricane season. As you may recall from previous posts, our marine insurance policy requires that we remove our boat from the hurricane zone between June 1 and November 1. 

Paintings sold at the base of bridge

If Northern Star were to remain in the heart of the hurricane zone and was then damaged in a hurricane, she would not be insured. So, our options from Bonaire were: 1) go on to the coast of Central America, 2) return to Trinidad {below 10 degrees latitude N} or 3) move the boat above the Florida/Georgia border. We chose #3. (You and I know that hurricanes hit the U.S. coast north of the Florida/Georgia border as well, but the boat insurers came up with this arbitrary line on the map, so….there you have it. Somebody voted on the geography again).

My first piña colada served
in a pineapple

We still have ~2000 kilometers, or 1079 nautical miles, or 1242 statute miles to get from our current location in Samaná, DR to the Florida/Georgia border. We will bypass about 700 islands (no exaggeration) before then. We will go through the Turks and Caicos, the Exumas and the Ragged Islands and finally the Abacos. We’ll stop at a few of them to explore, rest and to snorkel. 

The Dominican Republic lies east of Cuba and is not pictured above.

All of the above islands are part of the Commonwealth of the Bahamas which is scattered over an area of 100,000 square miles of ocean. Most of these islands are so small that you may have difficulty finding them on a map. And this might be a brain bender for some—the Bahamas are not part of the Caribbean. What? Yes, it's true. The Bahamas are not on the Caribbean Sea. They are in the Atlantic Ocean. See, it’s that geography stuff again. Geography can be hard.

Boat Monkeys

Sunday at the beach, Boca Chica

Today I wished I were young again and that my children were still little. I didn’t wish it all day long, mind you, just for a little while.  Usually, I’m fairly content with my age in life. Not that I wouldn’t like to have the energy to play volleyball again. My physical body, I’m afraid, does not share my brain’s enthusiasm for the sport.  But that is not what makes me wish I were thirty years younger.  

Our neighbors at ZarPar Marina, Boca Chica

What did make me wish for the younger days was the four families that sailed into the marina here in Boca Chico, D.R. a couple days ago. Four couples and their children. On one boat a diminutive girl of 12 years with not even a smidgin of that cynicism that one often sees with girls as they move into adolescence.  Friendly, and not afraid to look us in the eye. The kind of child that relishes in catching an adult offguard, which she did. It was exquisite.  She sweetly asked my husband to spell “cup” after saying “I”. And then she giggled uproariously. I miss those kind of jokes.

Children playing on boats

On the second boat, 6 and 10 year-old boys with buzz cuts, shepherded along by their tattooed, freckled and curly-haired parents and an elderly dog. On the third boat, a bouncy 11 year old brunette accompanied her parents, and on the fourth boat? A German family with four children. Two boys, 5 and 8 years old with shoulder-length blonde hair and their 2 year-old twin sisters. Their parents took advantage of a government-sponsored two year maternity leave after the birth of their twins. The maternity leave has ended but they can’t quite get themselves to return to their old life just yet. They are enjoying this one too much.

This little guy wants nothing to do with the water.

This vibrant whirlwind of children and their lithe parents took me back to a time in my life when I tried to see the world through my children’s eyes. The sun was a little brighter then and laughter came easily. I remember feeling good about being a parent of elementary school-age children. There was less of the anxiety that I would discover later, when my confidence as a parent of adolescents waned a bit.

The sand-covered girl is laughing

Today, two of the families herded themselves up and ambled off together to have a day of sightseeing. I had set up my sewing machine outside under the gazebo and watched the group walk by, calling out their goodbyes to me and a “Have a fun day” from the 12 year old girl who seems fascinated by my sewing. 

My sewing machine set up under a gazebo

Suddenly, it was almost like I was 35 again and I wanted to take my own children out for an adventure of some kind. I wanted to feel that vigor and enthusiasm again, the way that I felt with having a surprise planned for them.  Maybe something they’d never seen or done before, like going to a circus, holding a gecko, or just stopping for ice cream on a drive along the Mississippi without them having to ask. 

Learning how to make and fly a kite

Today strong memories surged in me, of playing with them.  And of teaching them about things that interested them. Sometimes riding in the car it was, “tell me about the time before there were white men here.”   Or, “tell me about when you were little on the farm.” Their curious minds soaked up my stories. I remember that I enjoyed that.  But in retrospect, that time in my life was absolutely glorious! If only I’d known then.

These teens humored me with a photo of them
wearing their wigs of sargasso weed

 And suddenly here it is, twenty-five years later and those memories are resurrected by watching this passel of children running on the docks, finding new friends, climbing in the rigging of their boats and just being children. My husband likes to refer to the children in the rigging as “boat monkeys.” During the mid-day, the children’s presence is less apparent. They are being home-schooled by their parents on their boats. 

Swinging in the rigging

We’ve noticed some things about the children being raised on cruising sailboats. We’ve remarked on how polite the children are; how comfortable they seem while interacting with adults, not bashful or embarrassed to be noticed. We’ve remarked to each other about how sophisticated the adolescents language is. It’s refreshing to hear a child speak in complete sentences without relying upon faddish phrases such as, “it was like, you know, like…. suh-weet!” 

This giuy is really good at this

I had never considered home schooling my children, but I cannot help but admire these parents who do so. What wonderful adventures the children are having in addition to the academic work. I think, or rather, I know that my own children would have soaked up life onboard a sailboat. Experiencing different cultures, climates, foods, adventures. I would have loved sharing all of this with them at that age. 

Every Sunday is like a big festival at the beach, Boca Chico, Dominican Republic

 This cruising life wasn’t an option for us when my children were small. We were in a different boat. And I know that sometimes, maybe even quite often, in the hustle of daily life back then, I didn’t appreciate the “boat” that we were in together. Nevertheless, they grew up well-adjusted and thrived. Well, for a little while today, I revisited those days of curiosity and exploration. And I enjoyed watching these children that live on sailboats. The wish that I were young again faded away. And I returned to the present day gray-haired woman that I am, sewing under the gazebo.

Facing southeast. Puerto Rico is about 100+ miles to the east.

The Memphis Detour

Mississippi River from the vantage point of the new Big River Crossing.

We enjoy a little inland detour now and then.  Our current detour began after we became confident that Hurricane Matthew presented no threat to our boat in the Chesapeake, neither by wind nor water surge. With Northern Star safely docked at Hartge (pro. HAR’chee) Yacht Harbor in Galesville, MD, we drove our Subaru Outback loaded with everything we’d need for a two-week-long “detour” inland.  

Jax with Northern Star beyond

The resident Border Collie, Jax occupied our backseat, while an assortment of boat projects that could be worked on while visiting family were stowed farther in the back.  Two boxes of nonessential odds ’n ends carefully culled from the innards of our sailboat also came with us. Those two boxes have now been successfully offloaded onto unsuspecting family members in Memphis where they will be stored while we continue our sojourn on the water.  (Thanks Natalie and Joe for buying a house with a big attic.)

Jax riding to Memphis in the backseat

The bulk of the drive from the Chesapeake to Memphis is within the state of Tennessee. We made it as far as Knoxville, TN on our first day with the weather system that had contributed to Hurricane Matthew hovering over our left shoulders. Knoxville is situated in the Smoky Mountains part of the Appalachians and was showing off her autumn colors for our arrival on October 9th.  But leaving the Smoky Mountains behind found us on the Cumberland Plateau and then on to the northern rim of the Delta which is Memphis, still sporting green leaves on the trees.

Fried catfish, coleslaw and collard greens

Memphis is fabulous in October!  Warm sunny days perfect to enjoy the outdoors without that ghastly heat and humidity of summer.  Almost makes a sailor think about putting down roots in Memphis.  When I think of Memphis, I think of majestic trees and food to die for!  Barbecue, fried catfish, hush puppies, tamales, shrimp and grits, greens and fried green tomatoes!  All good!  And the desserts! Caramel cake, coconut cake, key lime pie—why are these not staples on dessert menus in the North is what I wanna know?  

Beale Street

For those who have never visited Memphis, there are of course, those standard sights that everyone knows about.  Beale Street comes alive nightly with music; Sun Records is nearby, known as the place where Rock 'n Roll was born.  There, Elvis, Johnny Cash, Jerry Lee Lewis and Carl Perkins became known as the Million Dollar Quartet.  The Rock and Soul Museum is at hand as well as the Gibson Guitar factory. 

Elvis' grave at Graceland

Elvis’ home, Graceland is on the south side of Memphis as you head toward the Mississippi state line.  My husband, having grown up in Greenville, MS, recalled his family driving past Graceland on the way to buy school clothes each fall. “Everybody knew that Elvis lived there.  Nobody bothered him. There were no souvenir shops back then, no tours—just a nice wooded neighborhood on the edge of Memphis.”  Today it is a tourists’ mecca.  

Glass elevator carries guests to the top of the Pyramid

The Memphis pyramid, originally home to the Grizzlies and the U. of Memphis basketball teams sat empty for several years but has now become a Bass Pro wonderland complete with a cedar swamp. Walkways allow close-up photos of giant catfish, enormous Alligator Gar, Needle Nose Gar, and of course, alligators. The pyramid has also become a destination wedding venue, if you can believe that.  A 4-star boutique hotel, the Big Cypress Lodge, lines the outside walls of the pyramid with each room's balcony overlooking the cedar swamp.  After Bass Pro closes up shop for the evening, the subtly illuminated cedar swamp belongs to the hotel guests. Tourists are obligated to visit the Bass Pro pyramid at least once.

A 240# Alligator Gar

If you have the good fortune to visit Memphis before Halloween, you might want to take a tour of the Elmwood Cemetery (est. 1852) which I can highly recommend.  Thousands upon thousands of people take the guided tours to hear some of the cemetery residents (miraculously come to life) tell the stories of their colorful lives above ground.  My favorite was the flirtatious and plucky woman who became a spy for the Confederacy and in her old age moved to Grenwich Village, New York to act in several silent films.  What a woman she was! 

Elmwood Cemetery "living" residents

Memphis has some awesome outdoor spaces that must be seen to be appreciated fully.  Overton Park covers 342 acres within Memphis Midtown and is home to an enormous and very creatively designed zoo, as well as the Brooks Museum.  The Green Line is a biker and pedestrian’s paradise with miles of paved lanes and unpaved trails along both sides of the Wolf River, all of which is now part of Shelby Farms Park.  

Memphis Zoo at Overton Park

The 4,500 acres which comprise Shelby Farms Park was originally the site of Shelby County Penal Farm.  Since 1964, the city has struggled to fashion a new and different future for the land and that vision is now being realized. Shelby Farms Park is one of the largest in the country, more than five times the size of Central Park and has something for everyone.  There are several lakes with various rental watercraft, restaurants for both fine dining and for hiking families, many miles of trails for biking, in-line skating, horseback riding and jumping, zip lining, skate park, woodland discovery park, a dog park with its’ own lakes for swimming dogs and even a buffalo herd! 

Dog park at Shelby Farms Park

As of this past weekend, there is another addition to the City which will certainly become a “must-do” event for all future visitors to Memphis.  One of the old railroad bridges crossing the Mississippi River has been repurposed as a pedestrian and biking bridge.  

The Mississippi from the Big River Crossing

We walked that Big River Crossing bridge last Sunday, from Memphis, Tennessee to a point south of West Memphis, Arkansas.  Just us and several thousand other walkers and bikers crossed the Mississippi last Sunday.  To see the enormous barges churning upriver directly below us was novel to say the least, and the Memphis skyline off to our right….fan-TAS-tic!!  

Arkansas side of the Big River Crossing

Our detour is coming to an end.  Tomorrow we head back to our home on the water, Northern Star.  We say our goodbyes to family here—bittersweet farewells for which we are thankful, because those are possible only when one leaves behind people that are loved.  I have not written about our times with family here—but I assure you, those have been the most important part of our detour inland.  Sometimes when people go off to sea, well-wishers say “Fair Winds and Following Seas.”  I’m offering this wish to all who read this, “May All Your Farewells be the Bittersweet Kind.”

Love Every Day Until the End

We say that a sailing life promotes an attitude of reflection, but never more than when something truly tragic occurs.  What comes next in our lives?  Did we appreciate this day that we had— enough? At the end of our lives (and will we even know that day when we stand on the final precipice?) what will we be thinking about?  The people we’ve loved, no doubt.  The work that we’ve done.  The adventures, certainly.  Hopefully, we’ll be grateful for the good life we have shared. 

The Beach at Bluff House, Green Turtle Cay

We met a number of wonderful people after arriving in Green Turtle Cay…..several sailing twosomes, of course, but many more Bahamians who have been helping us in a variety of ways.  Many, many lovely people and when I say lovely, I do mean, inside and out.  Sometimes the Bahamian accent is a bit difficult to understand, but the smiles and warmth are not.  I wish that I had photographs of so many of the people—I do not.  They are people that we meet every day, in various capacities.  

Bluff House marina dock

There was the handsome and agile young man who helped us into the marina the first time.  Unbeknownst to me he leapt onto our boat to handle some lines while I was fussing with another line, and when I realized he was alongside me, I was astonished that he was able to jump on so easily AND that Jax had not challenged his right to be there!  “No problem, man.  No problem”  he smiled.

Jax, protectorate of NORTHERN STAR

There was the tiny lady, barely 5 feet tall, at the sparse grocery that she operates out of her home in the little town, New Plymouth.  I was immediately struck by her beautiful wide smile framed within her dark face.  The absence of a few teeth did not detract from her warmth.  I wanted to stay longer just to hear her speak, “I make da coconut cake—it very good.  In de oven now.  Everyone, dey like it very much.  You come back—one hour.”

Some little stores are within people's homes

Primary school-aged Bahamian children walking home, riding bikes, playing basketball, and running cheerfully along the narrow streets— they too have been friendly, and courteous as well brought up children tend to be.  “Thank you, ma’am.”  “No Sir.” 

After school fun

And the reason for this post at this time — a very special person, a large Bahamian man that we have seen several times since our arrival.  My husband’s first encounter was as the man finished cleaning the men’s bathroom.  Undeterred by that scenario, the man made a point of introducing himself,  “Hello, my name is Dominic.”   And this was accompanied by a firm handshake and a big smile. “Welcome, welcome.  How are you today?  It’s a beautiful day, yes? Enjoy, enjoy!”  

Photo of us taken by Dominic

I first met him a day later, when my friend came to visit us on Green Turtle Cay.  He came out to meet us as we were talking excitedly on the deck over the beach.  We asked him to take a picture of us and he added to the revelry of the moment.  “Oh, oh, Ardys, I got you to smile.”  Unbeknownst to me at that time, Dominic was the chef at Bluff House.  We had eaten delicious food prepared by him and had no idea that we had him to thank for it.  

Tranquil Turtle with Sea of Abaco beyond

A few days after our arrival, we were invited to share in Dominic’s birthday celebration on the beach alongside the beach bar, The Tranquil Turtle.   His 40th birthday.  He invited everyone, it seemed, old friends and new—everyone was welcome!  It was a patchwork of white and black faces, blending together—all obviously happy to be present.  It was a glorious evening to be sure.  Our small group of cruisers arrived at the beach unfashionably early— 6:00.  Hah!  We soon came to understand that the party would not be in full swing until 9:00.  Bahama time!  There would be 5 DJ’s playing music, a huge buffet table of foods and an open bar (small table) set up out on the sand to serve us whatever we might want,  “When dis food is all gone, aroun’ 3:00 or 4:00, den we make da souse* to sop up de rum.”  “Three or 4:00, in the morning?” I asked.  “Oh yes, we party all da night. De Bahama way.” 

The Tranquil Turtle, site of Dominic's 40th birthday party

Carl and I were entirely dazzled.  Only a few days in the Bahamas and we’d been invited to a real Bahama beach party by a man whom we had only known for a few days.  Under a beautiful full moon, we sang “Happy Birthday” twice to Dominic who true to his innate character, was graciously welcoming everyone.  “Eat, eat—all you want.  The bar is over there.  Enjoy!”  The music was loud and enervating. The birthday boy danced with some of the guests.  The bartender displayed his bar skills.  “Would you like to try a gullywash?”  “A gullywasher?” I asked.  “No gullywasher.  Gullywash.  Be careful.  It can be addictive,” he winked.  Indeed it was.  A combination of coconut milk, evaporated milk and rum.  Delightful.

Dominic circulated among all the guests shaking hands, kissing the women on the cheek and receiving congratulations from all.  Alongside him was a woman carrying a large pan of a very dense, rum-laden cake, the likes of which I had never enjoyed before!  Carl and I took a little stroll out onto the pier to better absorb the reality of this magical evening—the moon, the music, the food and drink, laughter.  I told my husband, “you know, this is going to be one of the most memorable evenings of being in the Bahamas.  It’s almost too perfect a night to believe.”  And, I added, “And, it’s kind of romantic.”  I giggled as if we’d been plopped down in paradise and I believe we had been.

From the deck of The Tranquil Turtle

 The remainder of the evening lurched horribly downward.  I was summoned because  

“you’re a medical something, aren’t you?   Dom fell down on the floor inside.”  Medical social worker, to be exact, but years ago I taught CPR and I was trained in seizure response, so, not knowing if there was anyone else in the crowd with any of those skills, I figured I could lend a hand.  As I threaded my way through the crowd, I was thinking—‘maybe he had a seizure.’  I’d seen Dominic on the dance floor only minutes earlier.

Dominic was flat on his back.  Limbs splayed.  No visible signs of convulsive seizure activity.  Eyes partially open.  Unresponsive.  I couldn’t find a pulse!  Nothing.  I felt for breath with the back of my hand and then with my cheek—nothing.  I thought surely it was my ineptitude.  There had to be a pulse.  Dominic was a big man, overweight; perhaps I just couldn’t find the pulse.  Another cruiser we met that evening arrived at his side at the same moment that I did.  He took charge of the situation after he stated that he was trained as a rescue medic.  Mountain climbing rescues, that sort of thing, I learned later.  Surely the medic would find a pulse—he did not.  

The medic directed someone to find an AED** but there were none to be found.  He told someone to call the EMTs and to ”tell them to bring an AED.”  He began chest compressions, saying, “No, we don’t give breaths anymore.”  Another man also knew CPR and the two of them traded off with the exhausting job of compressions.  They were delivering approximately 100 compressions at a depth of 1 1/2 to 2” on our generous guest of honor’s sternum. I found my niche immediately.  The vigorous compressions caused Dominic’s head to bounce on the wooden floor with each compression.  It wasn’t much, but at least I could place my hands between the floor and Dominic’s head.  His airway was obviously open.  I could hear the air being expelled as they worked on this barrel-chested man.  I thought of those who loved him standing around us watching in disbelief.  They at least, might find a tiny bit of comfort later, in recalling that one of the helpers tried to stop that cruel sound of his skull making contact with the floor.  A dentist in the crowd recognized that our patient was without oxygen, and said that he did need mouth-to-mouth resuscitation which she then initiated.  I could help to position Dominic’s head with chin elevated, forehead back to keep the airway open.

As the minutes passed, it sank in that Dominic was not going to recover, and yet we could not, would not stop until someone with authority told us to do so.  We worked together in that manner for approximately 20 minutes or more.  The EMT’s then arrived in an assortment of trucks and cars and with the precious AED in hand.  Shocks were delivered several times over the next 40 minutes. Dominic was gone, however—perhaps had been gone from the moment I first saw him and could not find a pulse nor breath.  

What thoughts and feelings were swirling around for me and the other cruisers who barely knew this lovely man?   There were the isolated sobs heard, the kind that get caught in the throat, amongst the guests, and then more silence.  As though even speaking in a whisper could be obstructive to the intense hope of the surrounding family and friends  We questioned our presence perhaps, at this most intimate moment of this man’s brief life.  And yet, we were invited to celebrate his life with him, and indeed we had..  Fabulously!  We’d enjoyed his hospitality and the pleasure of his company.  And now, the surreal quality of the moonlit night, now so still, but for the sound of the EMT’s and the talking AED.  What were the last moments like for this generous, gracious man?  Did he have time to think about his family, to let go of his life?  To be frightened?  To suffer pain?  Was there a peace in his last moments?  I hoped so.  Would he have had awareness that he would be missed by so many?  How quickly life happens.  It happens and then is over, like flicking off a light.  Without warning, without announcement.  The end just rudely shows up when it will.  

One of the resort guests caught this photo of Dominic dancing with one of her friends, only minutes before he died.  I hope that it somehow finds its’ way to his family.  I hope they take some comfort in that Dominic was enjoying his life right until the end of it.  I hope they will know that I for one, and my husband as well, felt honored to have been included in his celebration of life.  I hope that I remember to celebrate at least a little, every day of mine.

*Souse (pro. more like sauce) is a very flavorful, healthy broth made from boiling all the bones of whatever chicken or pork they ate.   Supposed to help with the effects of too much rum, recovery from a cold and stomach distress. http://www.bahamasgateway.com/recipes/souse.htm

**AED (Automated External Defibrillator) https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Automated_external_defibrillator

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.