Islands of Saints

After a relatively benign trip from St Martin, we have finally arrived in Guadeloupe….well Iles des Saintes to be exact.  When we first planned the route, we had planned on making our first stop in Deshaies, which is the first anchorage on the northwest coast of Guadeloupe. Since we hadn't anticipated that Moitessier would make such good timing during this passage, we ended up deciding last minute that we would skip Deshaies and move on to the anchorage in Basse-Terre, off of Marina de Riviere Sens (the next port for clearing in).  Originally we had planned on making landfall in Deshaies the following morning, but with the winds in our favor, MoMo was cruising at a nice average speed of  about 7 kts, making our would-be arrival in the middle of the night, which we all know is not something we ever want to do. And so we trudged on, moving further down the coast to make some headway, as we are currently already a little behind schedule (when are we not?).  Upon arrival the following morning at Basse-Terre, we noticed that the "anchorage" was essentially a tiny sliver of shallower water off of the side of the island very very close to shore, with the depths dropping from 65' to 165' in a matter of 2-3 hundred feet.  And so, once again, we decided to sail a couple more miles south to Iles des Saintes, meaning Islands of Saints in french and, boy, does it live up to its name.  

Sailing into this set of Guadeloupe owned islands was such a lovely surprise after the stressful debacle of a morning we had with deciding last minute where to go. We hadn't done any research and  didn't know what the deal was with all the mooring balls dotting the shore where the charts had labelled "anchorage," and so we tucked into Marigot Bay as this happens to be the only place  around with reasonable water depths that you can anchor in. After dinghying it in to the town of Terre de Haut and checking in, we discovered that it would cost us 11 Euros a night stay on the mooring balls, or 60 euros for a week, which we justified as reasonable considering the mere 2 euro check-in fee into Guadeloupe.  We also decided to take a mooring as our anchorage, though sheltered in settled weather, was starting to become unsafe with building winds clocking around and bringing in huge swells.  We ended up staying and relaxing in this lovely town for over a week, awaiting a tropical wave to pass before moving on.  We didn't do much but deal with some repairs on the boat (i.e. rewiring the SSB antenna, re-mounting our exhaust hose that had snapped loose, repairing an issue that had popped up in our steering, and so on…).  We revelled in the homeyness and the "Europeness" that this little town exude, and I swear it felt like I was walking around some small town in Europe somewhere, with its delightful colorful houses, once again set upon a lush island backdrop.  Though there isn't too much to do but just enjoy the beauty of this little set of islands, Frank and I thoroughly enjoyed taking it easy and just getting into the groove of the small island community here.  There is a sleepy Sunday feel to being here, and as brief of a stay we had here, we quickly fell into a routine of walking into town, getting some gelato, some baguette and cheese,  buying groceries, and simply marveling the quaintness of this place.  My words are not doing it justice, so I'll just stop right here and hope that my photos can portray just a little of what I'm going on about…

Underway….

That's St Eustatius behind me

Approaching Guadeloupe

Entering the Islands of Saints

Marigot Bay, where we anchored while it was sheltered

On a mooring ball...

Town of Terre de Haut

Church in the center of town

I've never seen this flower before

Goats everywhere…not sure if you can see in the photo

Hiking to the top

Fort Napoleon at the top...

Norman's Cay

After our little debacle in West Bay, we decided to move Moitessier to right outside Old Fort Bay so that we would have an easier time leaving before sunrise from New Providence to make it to Allens Cay with enough daylight to spare.  Luckily for us, at that point, the winds had died down, so being unprotected was no longer a problem.  Waking up around 5am, we headed over to Allens Cay, it was pretty uneventful except when we entered the cut, we noticed that there was not a single place we could anchor.  The anchorage was narrow with shallow water on either side, and there were boats EVERYWHERE.  Turning around to get out was a little challenging as the current running through there was also pretty strong.   Since there were really not many other options to anchor our deep draft boat, we ended up anchoring outside on the west side of Highborne Cay, with a strong west wind.  This was incredibly nerve wracking as it was unsheltered, and the bow of the boat kept bashing into the water.  Since we didn't want to risk dragging into the lee shore, we decided an anchor watch was necessary through the night given our circumstances, we had no other choice but to stay wary and alert, in case we did drag.

After a restless night, we pulled anchor early in the morning to make our way further south to Norman's Cay which was the next place on our route.  We ended up getting stuck here for about 10 days, as a huge front came through, pummeling us with bad weather for a week straight.  It's a pretty remote little place with no stores or anything, except one bar/restaurant with overpriced fare, and so on our last couple of days, we were forced to be creative with our cans, as we had not prepared to be stuck for so long.  Those days were spent dreaming about all the foods that we missed….burgers, broccoli, foie gras, steak tartare, chocolate, arugula, mushrooms, ice cream.

Bad weather...

Ashley learning to play guitar

One of the highlights of Norman's Cay that you absolutely must see, is the sunken plane.   This was one of the drug running planes that had crashed during the height of cocaine smuggling in the 80's when the whole of Normans was under the control of the nefarious drug lord Carlos Lehder.  There is actually a reference to the island in the movie, Blow.    From above the water, you can see the hull of the plane, and it doesn't look like anything special, but the moment you enter the water, it becomes quite a magical site.  The plane is covered in a colorful array of coral, and there are fish in every nook and cranny.  I can't deny though that snorkeling in some parts of the plane creeped me out a little.  There was something very eerie about it, and I thoroughly enjoyed getting a little scared whenever I passed by the cockpit.  It felt a little haunted and at times, almost like something was watching me.  Irrational I know, but that still didn't keep my heart rate down.

 

Another highlight during our weather imprisonment was that we ended up hanging out with a group of young professionals from NY who had chartered a boat for a week and were passing through.  We had a little beach party on one of the tiny little islands, and since they weren't cruisers, they had plethora of goodies that we were dreaming about….fresh salsa, champagne, brie, and even pumpernickel!  What a treat it was to not only talk to some younger people but we got to indulge ourselves a little over a bonfire.  You'd think that we were some sort of primitive animal, being stuck on a boat with just the three of us for a week straight with nothing to do but sing songs, have dance parties, philosophize over the meaning of life, and elaborately plan meals out of the stores we had left.

Lil island we had the bonfire on

On one of our mornings there, I was awakened by hearing Frank go to Ashley, "We're about to get hit…"  Scrambling to get my clothes on, I thought for sure we were dragging into someone. When I got on deck, I noticed Frank at the bow of the boat fending off this big powerboat called "Daddy's Money" whose stern was bashing into our bowsprit.   Apparently this guy had somehow dragged into us or perhaps the current had swept him into us, but when we finally fended him off, all the captain's wife could manage to say was "Whoopsies!"  No apologies, nothing…just whoopsies….and then motored off.  Not even hailing us on the radio to apologize.  Some people really have nerve.   What I couldn't understand was, even through it all, why didn't the captain just drive the boat forward so that his stern wasn't repeatedly bashing into us?   Ashley and I had even thought of going to their boat in our dinghy afterward, and saying something like, "Hey, we forgive you for crashing into us this morning.   There wasn't too much damage done to our boat, but do you think you could give us all the fresh produce you have in your fridge as consolation.  We'll call it even then…"  But of course, we didn't have the audacity to do that, and left well enough alone, instead we just vented about it to each other throughout the day, getting more indignant with each re-telling of the "Whoopsies!"  Fortunately, they left the anchorage shortly after the incident, as our anger over the situation was starting to get the best of us.  I guess there is something to be said about acceptance, that sometimes in life, you are going to encounter people who lack wit as well as a fully developed brain.  You simply can't change the world, and making peace with that fact is all a part of growing up.

A Shot in the Dark

For those of you who may be wondering if we’re frolicking in the turquoise waters of Bahamas, nope, we’re not.  We’re still in Miami.  Having missed our weather window last night, we’ve decided to stay until the next window pops up.  We’ve been anchored out here in Miami now for about a week, and aside from a few last minute chores, such as wiring up our last solar panel, some last minute mass provisioning, and awaiting to get our dinghy back, we’ve been taking it pretty easy.  We’ve been to shore only a handful of times since we’ve been here, and being anchored out has had its own set of highlights and pitfalls.  Being stuck on the boat isn’t as bad as most of you landlubbers may think.  It may seem mundane and boring, and at times it can be, but to be honest, it’s been quite a thought provoking and pensive time for me.  Days are filled with random little chores, and coming from a life where there was a set schedule, I’ve had to develop some semblance of structure for myself.   Creating to-do lists keeps you from getting lost in the vortex of being on anchor time.  There always seems to be something to do, whether it’s putting last night’s dishes away, checking our battery status, or diving to clean the bottom, it seems grains of time pass through the hourglass much quicker when you fill it when semi-productive tasks. 

We had a crazy night the night before we were originally planning to leave that swayed our decision.  Two days ago, we had rented a car to do some very last minute re-provisioning.  After seeing how much we were actually using, we had decided, surprisingly, that we needed to get some more stuff.  I know, what the hell right?  But after being aboard full time in the past two weeks, we realized that we were blowing through random things like toilet paper, rice, paper towels, and kool-aid ;) at a much quicker rate than we had originally anticipated. We had decided it was best to just get more so as to not have to worry about it in a foreign land.  So off we went driving around in awful Miami traffic, scurrying from West Marine, to Target, to Walmart, and lastly the Laundromat.  Time really got ahead of us. 

Not anticipating that the day’s errands were going take so long, we didn’t finish until well after sunset.    Well stupid us, since we hadn’t realized that it was literally going to take us all day, we didn’t think to turn on our anchor light.  Stupid, stupid mistake!  By the time we had even realized our dire situation, we were already well on our way with our dinghy packed full of groceries.  Since the draft of our boat kept us from anchoring anywhere close to the mooring field, where we had anchored was about a mile offshore.  So here we were with the dinghy packed to the brim with our clean clothes, grape soda, and other very important household items, with me in my sundress, groping around in the dark wondering where the heck Moitessier was.  We were about ½ a mile out before we started to get a little nervous.  We realized that the without our anchor light, there was no way in hell we were going to find Moitessier.  At night, things that would seem innocuous in daylight take on a more sinister edge.  The waves seem a little bigger, every shadow looks like the fin of a shark, and channel markers become much further away than they appear.  We had remembered that we had anchored just to the right outside the channel, but for some reason, in our tiny little dinghy, we couldn’t seem to gauge what the channel marker lights were versus every other light on shore.   After driving around in the dark for about an hour, we realized that the wind and current had set us much further than we had thought, so we started to head more to the north.  In my adrenaline fueled state, I didn’t even have time to panic as what was running through my head was some half drunk asshole that had plowed through the bay at break neck speeds, had hit Moitessier in the dark and she was now in the process of sinking, which was why we couldn’t see her.  It would be our own fault as well and we’d be  the ones liable if anyone got hurt.   

I called her name into the wind, much like one would do when they’ve lost their dog, roaming around in the streets hopelessly calling Fido in vain.  Shouting “Moitessier, where are you?”, as if somehow she’d hear me and cruise on by.  I know, fear had made me lose my mind.  Just as I was signing my last covenant to Allah, Buddha, Zeus, or whomever, vowing that if we were to find her, that I would never do something so reckless again, did she appear out of nowhere.  Just sitting peacefully, rocking back and forth, minding her own business.  I was never so relieved in my life.  Sounds a bit histrionic, but really it was like spotting a well in the desert.  As we approached her, I showered her with love.  Hell, I think I even frenched her.  As soon as I stepped aboard, all the composure I had kept throughout the ordeal completely drained out of me.  I started bawling.  Not tears of joy, no, nothing that graceful, it was more like a full on whaling.  Crying, stuttering, panting, boogers running down my face kind of crying.  Frank didn’t really know what to do with me because I’m normally pretty calm when things like that happen, but he just hugged me, told me it was over and that we were ok.  That seemed to calm me down a bit, though my heart was racing for the next hour.  Lesson for the day was, TURN THE DAMN ANCHOR LIGHT ON when you leave, especially if you don’t know when you’ll be back.  Another lesson learned was, when transporting groceries, bring a couple of garbage bags with you so that you can wrap them up and keep them dry. 

Drying out the goods

Dinghy full of stuff

So in light of what happened, we decided to just take it easy and not rush taking the passage.  That ordeal stressed us both out and we realized that there was no real reason for us to rush.  Especially since we hadn’t gotten our dinghy back yet, nor had we filled our fuel and water tanks, or had we gotten propane, as well as many other last minute things that we hadn’t thought to do.  Our instincts told us that being on a tight schedule, trying to beat the weather was going to lead to many more stupid mistakes.  And so here we are, sitting outside Hurricane Harbor, listening to the number of party boats blasting Reggaeton and Merengue, watching intoxicated jetskiers whiz by.  Perhaps it was foolish to put it off as it may mean a week’s delay, and our buddy boat is already celebrating in Bimini, but hey, I’d rather be safe than sorry. 

Our lovely lady anchored out

View of Miami from our butterfly hatches

"A Single Act of Kindness….

…throws out roots in all directions, and the roots spring up and make new trees.  The greatest work that kindness does to others is that it makes them kind themselves."  ~Amelia Earhart

Right now, as I type this, a huge storm system has just passed us that had reported gusts of about 50kts.  Sitting here rocking and rolling for a couple of hours with lightning all around us was not fun  We were worried that we were going to drag, or worse, get hit by lightning. The wind was howling like a banshee, the seas were big and choppy, and the anchor chain snubber was so taut, it looked like it's about to snap.  I must say, those conditions were a little intimidating.  It's finally abated, Frank has been going forward and checking on things, and I have just been laying here combatting the onslaught of seasickness symptoms.  Headache, mild nausea, you name it, I've got it.

I took this as it started to get bad...

Been here in Miami now for about a week.  Shortly after we re-anchored a few days ago, we noticed that our new/used RIB had a little trickle coming in.  After further inspection, we realized that the leak was coming from the seam where the hypalon meets the aluminum.  Frank suspects that the delamination was due to the aluminum being corroded and the glue no longer sticking to the corrosion.  This was most likely caused by the aluminum being improperly prepped when the factory was gluing the hypalon to the bottom.   Of course with our luck, after contacting AB about this, we discover that we are in fact NOT covered under their 10 year warranty simply because we are the second owners.   Arrghhh!  So of course, after a mad dash of calling around to places to see where we can get this damn thing fixed (not an easy thing when its your only means of transportation to and from shore), we found a place that would come and pick up the dinghy and deliver it back fixed for us within a week.  Of course, we had to pay out of pocket for this repair.  Another unexpected fix, it’s always a challenge. 

So after we discovered that we had to get this damn RIB fixed, Frank and I were were a little concerned that we would be stranded without a means to get to shore.  Especially because where we are anchored out is right smack in the middle of the bay, in what seems to be the middle of no where.  Up until now, we’ve had a lot of feedback and emails from our readers that have been sending their support, kind words, as well as advice, and welcoming us back to the blogging community.  We have been corresponding back and forth between one particular person who has not only given us invaluable advice about anchorages in Miami, but has gone far out of his way to help us in our time of need.  This man, whom I believe that the gods has anointed to be our fairy godfather, Randy, has truly blown us away by his generosity. 

After discovering that we would be stranded, I wrote to Randy to ask about where there were any anchorages here that have a frequent taxi service.  He wrote back and said that there were none but that we were more than welcome to borrow his little spare dinghy.   We were more than grateful!   After going back and forth, we discovered that our 9.8 hp outboard was far too big for his spare dinghy, and we wrote him back and told him that, unfortunately for us, it would not work.  Before I even had a chance to feel disappointed, he wrote back with another email, saying”…there is more than one way to skin a cat…” and offered his primary dinghy to us.  WHAT THE HELL?  This couldn’t be real.  No one is this nice.  But let me tell you….these people do exist.  I never cease to get amazed by the kindness of complete strangers, especially being from NY, where the pace of life keeps you from ever stopping to look around and ground yourself.  Being a part of this boating community has shown me time and time again that there is still humanity left in the western world.  It brought me to tears thinking that here was this complete stranger, willing to trust us and go out of his way to help us, without a question, without asking anything in return.  After incessantly thanking him, we asked if we could take him out to dinner or have him over for dinner, he simply said, “no worries…just pay it forward…” 

It’s these singular moments in life that make all the hardship and heartache worthwhile.  The discovery that people are good, that there is still love and support in places that you least expect it.  That in this never-ending cycle of surviving and suffering, that there are people who understand and are more than willing to hold out a hand when you fall, and perhaps it is because they have fallen as well once upon a time and know how cold and hard the ground is, or perhaps it’s simply kindness.  Whatever it is, it’s bigger than you and I, so I thank you, Randy, for showing a girl who has struggled to believe that there is still light in this world of darkness.

Anchored outside of Hurricane Harbor, beautiful morning,
before the system rolled in...  

PS-  Sorry if this post embarrassed you, Randy, but we really can’t thank you enough… 

Running aground…Daytona to Titusville

The ICW is not exactly the most exciting place to be traveling through.  Hours are spent spotting markers, looking for dolphins, Instagramming, and thinking about what to make for dinner (which by the way is my new favorite activity).  Recently I’ve started to play a game, much like the TV show Chopped, where I try to use whatever is in my pantry to make our meals.  It takes up about 90% of my thoughts, and the more I’m able to salvage, the more satisfied I feel that we saved a little money by not wasting food.  Leftovers are re-purposed and once in a while, reluctantly, I use one of our cans as a supplement to our meal.  This is a feat I’d like to overcome as it means, more money in our pockets, and more money equals more time cruising.  Plus, it’s challenging and I’d like to think it makes me a better cook.

The 2^nd day on the ICW was filled with many “firsts”, technically, seconds.  On our way from Daytona to Titusville, Frank managed to run us aground.  It happened so quickly as we were chugging our way merrily through the calm waters.  Frank had just finished saying, “Is that red channel marker for us? Or is it for the other channel?  Could you please look on the map and double check?”  Just as I was telling him that yes, in fact, that was our channel marker, did we feel a soft thud.  He was clearly outside the channel.  Just then the depth sounder went blank and we were at a stand still.  Of course, Frank freaked out on me and said that I must’ve misread the charts.  Seeing that he was in panic mode, I took over the wheel, and started to push forward on the throttle, and turn the wheel back and forth.  It was as if time stopped, and just like in the movies, I could hear the sound of my heart beating as I put the boat in reverse full throttle and forward in full throttle as I started to worm my way off the sandbar.  In the background, I could hear in a muffled voice, Frank telling me that I was digging myself in a deeper hole.  But for some reason, stupid as it may sound, I became one with the boat.  I could feel every movement she was making, and I could tell that what I was doing was actually freeing us from the grounding.  Just as I was putting it back into reverse, a powerboat sped by and created a wake for us, which finally helped free us.  As soon as I felt we were lifted, I quickly cut the wheel to starboard, and continued on.  Seconds later, I looked at Frank and we both started laughing. In fact, maniacally laughing.  We couldn’t believe that we were able to get out of that.  Frank humbly apologized for blaming me for misreading the charts, and even admitted that I was perhaps a better close quarter helmsman than him.  I swear there are few times in my life where I wished that I was a robot and could just hit record.  This was definitely one of those moments.  I’d like to imagine that whenever he would question what I was doing that I could simply hit the repeat button and have him hear “you’re a better helmsman…you’re a better helmsman….you’re a better helmsman,” over and over again followed by my smug laughter.  It’s the little things in life….

Aside from that, the day was pretty boring.  Just a series of hailing bridges and motoring on.  We got to Titusville in the late afternoon and were able find a deserted anchorage with depths that could accommodate our deep draft.  We spent the next 2 nights there and even walked into town to re-provision our fresh produce.  Next stop…Melbourne. 

Titusville 

A view from under the bridge

Moitessier anchored out.  Isn't she lovely?