The Crossing

Sunday, January 30, 2011 --  0300 hours -- no moon -- clear, star dusted skies -- calm seas --  light winds.  At last, the time has arrived for us to head for the open Atlantic and the Bahamas beyond.  So, under the cover of darkness, Let’s Dance, the Love Me Tender, Captain Bill and I set out to cross the widest span of ocean we’ve tackled to date.  Fifty-five.  And we made it!

We departed from Miami Beach, a huge port of call for cruise ships of all nationalities.  Not surprisingly, none were leaving at 3 that morning, so our exit path was wide and un-obstructed.  By about 0415 however, our AIS revealed seven of the giants heading inbound.  They cue up for entry into port, covering an area of many square miles.  Their light bills have to be astronomical as you can see them from up to 15 miles away.  The actual distance can be deceiving, so relying on our radar is essential.

As the sun came up and flat seas continued, we started to relax and really enjoy the journey.  We hit speeds of up to 7.4 knots, were befriended by another eastbound trawler, took turns at the helm and just generally had a great ride.  At 0740 the captain put his first lines in the water. Would there be fish for dinner?

By eight we were surrounded by fields of man o war jellyfish.  At first glance, the sun reflecting off them made them look like bobbing plastic water bottles -- thank heavens that wasn’t the case.  And, what about those flying fish?  Thousands of airborne little guys shooting off in every direction to escape the menace of our hull.  An amazing sight that had us laughing out loud and wondering what other magic acts we will encounter along the way.

All of our preparation paid off and the passage was great.  We anchored just off the coast of South Bimini island at 1140.…an 8 hour trip that we had thought could take us up to 10.  Bill took Love Me Tender into ’town’ and  cleared us through customs.  We now sport a small Bahamian flag for the duration of our stay in addition to the US flag we always fly. 

We’ve now been in the Bahamas for four days and there’s already a lot to write home about:  a crescent moonrise over an abandoned lighthouse on Gun Cay, anchoring overnight in the middle of the Great Bahama Bank (15 miles from the nearest land and in only 11 feet of water), and snagging a wahoo while trolling in 5000 feet of water, only to free him when a mahi mahi hit the other line (and yes, there was fish for dinner!)

After last night in a very funky marina in Nassau, we head for ports south in the Exumas.  So from us, for now....Let’s Dance…Carol and Bill

It’s A Wrap!

We did it!  We stretched our sea legs, expanded our comfort zones, reviewed our charts, double checked our equipment and provisions, then traveled to Maine and back….again!  Last summer we were hampered by inexperience, so the lessons learned in 2010 proved most valuable in 2011.  No longer was a endless field of lobster pots incredibly daunting; no longer was picking up a mooring a heart stopping exercise; no longer was engine repair and/or maintenance an indecipherable puzzle.  We had knowledge and confidence and a can-do philosophy.  All assets when traipsing around the waters of New England and Maine.

There were some firsts, as well.  We tried a multitude of different anchorages this summer, including Gravesend Bay, NY (you can see the rides of Coney Island from here); Watch Hill, RI (there is a very good reason this anchorage is not listed in any guide -- felt like sleeping inside a hamster wheel) and Cliff Island, ME (where the lobster boat “Sunshine”  cheerfully circled us as she gathered her pots early one morning).

Good Morning Sunshine

 Then there was the memorable lead-in to the anchorage at Tuckahoe Point, just at the entrance to the Alligator/Pungo River section of the Intracoastal.  We had spent a very uneventful morning transiting the ICW -- not Bill’s favorite passage as it is narrow and shallow and not at all challenging.  But, in some areas it is the only game in town.  As we neared a swing bridge and were preparing to call for an opening, a cruiser named “Perfect Match” from Verplanck, NY roared up right off our port side and then cut directly in front of us!  There was not another boat within five miles and this fella wants to play dodge ‘em!  Captain Bill was appalled, of course, and gave the wayward boat what for with the horn.  He called the idiot on the radio numerous times and got no reply.  This is very strange.  “Perfect Match”, a rundown, slightly shabby water craft veered in and out of the well marked channel and we feared she would go aground, but finally she pulled herself together and called for the bridge tender.  Her captain had an unusual dialect and appeared unaware of the system for opening bridges.  It gets stranger.  Bill gets back on the radio to the bridge tender, alerting him to the bizarre behavior of the NY boat, then tells “Perfect Match” to stay well clear of us in unmistakably concise language.

We pass through the bridge, “Perfect Match” well off our stern.  For hours she trails us, obediently keeping her distance as we both follow the channel southward.  As it begins to get late, the Captain and I decide to anchor at the entrance of the Alligator/Pungo River in order to make the narrow canal transit in daylight.  We slow down and move out of the channel, leaving red channel markers to port as we wade into shallower waters.  “Perfect Match” continues to follow “Let’s Dance” like a chastened puppy.  I hail her on the radio three times…no response.  I go out to the stern into the cockpit and wave her off.  I feel like an airman on the flight deck, giving hand instructions to this (not very bright) sailor.  Finally, the light dawns and the cruiser edges back into the marked channel, leaving us blessedly alone in the anchorage.  We half expected to find them the next day washed ashore or crashed into a piling, but they never crossed our radar again…thank goodness!

That episode behind us, we motored on down the “ditch” (code for Intracoastal straight, skinny parts) and encountered neither alligator nor pungo.  Whew! 

Mechanically speaking there were highlights, too.  The captain mastered racor filter changes, replaced the impeller in the generator and  adjusted the stabilizer fins for a smoother ride.  When the main engine alternator showed no pulse, it took only five calls to Nordhavn guru James Knight before the problem was analyzed and a solution found for repair.  Bless you, James!  I, too, gained some mechanical savvy by doing most of the engine room checks.  This is an hourly exercise designed to catch any malfunctions before they become crippling.  And, you get to wear a cool headset!

The Admiral in the ER

In the East River, Let’s Dance set a new personal best speed record of 10.3 knots, aided by a strong current, of course.  We saluted as the Coast Guard escorts for an inbound submarine warned off the curious; experienced a high temperature of 86 degrees in Virginia; shivered with glee as the thermometer dropped into the fifties in Maine; smiled at the oddly named peninsula “Point No Point”; cheered on the pair of orange-beaked sea birds who hitch-hiked on the bow rail for miles off the Jersey coast and gulped as news of a nearby “live pyrotechnic demonstration” came over the radio near Hampton Roads, VA.

New “Things We’ve Learned” (TWL’s) are too numerous to count. I can tell you, however, that frozen food thrown from an unsecured freezer is hazardous to life and limb.  The Wicomico River quickly morphs into the Wicked Mico when tide and current clash.  Menhaden processing plants are the stinkiest fisheries imaginable -- those poor folks who live downwind!  Rhode Island boasts many fine restaurants that are within walking distance from shore, via the Love Me Tender.  Nantucket is even more fun than usual when old friends convene for a quick reunion and new friends are always welcome in the boating community.  We were astounded by how many people we met who were familiar with, or had actually been to, Daufuskie Island.  It is a smaller world every year.

Let’s Dance, the Love Me Tender and crew added another 2000 miles to the hearty Lugger diesel engine while bobbing around the East Coast for about 70 days.  We bought fuel once (250 gallons in each tank to top her off), over-nighted at only three marinas; picked up moorings on five nights and spent the rest “on our own bottom.”  We were entertained by seals, whales, dolphins, sea birds and bait fish.  Friends nourished us in Rhode Island, New York, Massachusetts and Maine and we, in turn, hosted a few new and old friends on board our salty trawler.

What will 2012 bring?  Captain Bill and I are trading ideas and using our imaginations on that score.  We will probably head further south than we ventured this past winter, continuing to build on our experience and hone our nautical skills.  One of Bill’s goals is to turn me into a seasoned mariner who will eagerly embrace multi-day/night passages with just the pair of us aboard.  Miles and miles of open seas, crossing ever larger bodies of water, following the trade winds in a romantic, oceanic folly.  Oh, my!

Until Next Year

Let’s Dance……Carol and Bill

 

Talk Radio

Greetings, friends, from the pilothouse of Let’s Dance, en route from points north to our home waters in South Carolina.  For the past few weeks there has been an unusually vigorous amount of chatter coming in over our radios.  Naturally, as in all areas of life, accurate and timely communication is essential.  Here on Let’s Dance, in the pilothouse alone, there are no fewer than five devices devoted to this purpose.  Let’s take a tour.

First there is the “Sat phone” or satellite phone, which we dutifully turn on every morning as part of the preflight checklist.  There is a fifteen digit number that you can purportedly dial and reach us anywhere in the world.  How about that?  We don’t know what it would cost to make that call, but it is reassuring to family that we can always be reached.  Additionally, we have a fairly antiquated “SSB” or single sideband radio.  The special benefit to this system is that, if you are smart enough to understand its vagaries, you can communicate with others of like knowledge from several hundred to several thousand miles away.

Of more benefit to us are the trio of VHF radios in the pilothouse.  Chapman’s Piloting and Seamanship, courtesy of son Paul,  describes the VHF short range communication system as “by domestic and international treaty, the prescribed vehicle for local communications, both ship-to-ship and ship-to-shore.”  That’s a lot of verbiage for talk radio!

Mariners such as our insignificant selves, the Coast Guard, fishing and charter vessel owners, captains of tugs and tankers, commanders of warships and subs, all use VHF Channel 16 to hail each other.  Channel 16 is to be used only to get the attention of another ship, no chatting is allowed and you will be reprimanded if you dawdle.  Once hailed, another channel is chosen for the actual “talking”.  Other channels have specific functions as well, but for now, let’s stay with 16.  There are three levels of notification. Securite for announcements of general interest, Pan Pan( pronounced pawn pawn please!) for non life threatening situations, and Mayday. You guessed it! For example:

    Radio voice:  “Securite, securite, securite!  Hello all stations, hello all stations, hello all stations.  This is warship five-seven underway from  point A to point B.  Standing by on channels thirteen and sixteen for any and all concerned traffic.  Over.”

Concerned traffic???  Of course we are concerned!  What is he thinking?  And where is point A?  Point B?

Or there’s this:

    Coast Guard:   “Pan pan, pan pan, pan pan!   Hello all stations, (etc., etc.)  This is the United States Coast Guard, Sector Chesapeake Bay, (etc., etc.) We have received a report of a disabled vessel on the rocks at ABC point, taking on water with two adults on board!  All mariners are requested to keep a sharp lookout, assist if possible and report all sightings to the Coast Guard.  Break.”

    Captain Bill:  “This is the motor vessel ‘Let’s Dance‘.  We are in the vicinity of the disabled boat and will arrive at their location in approximately 20 minutes!”

We step on it and, with a slightly altered course, soon come upon the rock-ridden boat.  Luckily, a swifter good Samaritan arrived ahead of us and the soaked couple were safe aboard his boat.  Sadly, not such a happy finale for their little skiff.

Other notable transmissions received this summer included notices of a debris field from a sunken sailboat in Boston Bay; the salvage effort by a professional team of a 120 foot yacht that had run aground near Woods Hole; the cursing frustration of fishermen whose lines were fouled by irresponsible boaters; latitude and longitude of errant trees and lumber in the upper Chesapeake Bay set afloat upstream by runoff from “Lee” and other dramas, both natural and man made.

So, to the trio of VHF’s in the pilothouse -- one attached to the boat, two freestanding to take with us to other parts of the boat or in the Love Me Tender.  She, of course, has her own built-in VHF radio, but we often take an extra -- just in case.  Also, when piloting from the fly bridge, a VHF radio is just the thing to keep Captain Bill in touch with the outside world.


For intra-boat communication we boast a pair of  wireless two-way radios.  Definitely one of our better acquisitions!  Thanks for the heads up, Captain Bernie!  The headsets assure marital harmony as well as ease of communication when anchoring, docking, mooring, etc.  We have encountered many couples in the past year (picture her on the bow, him in the pilothouse as they approach an anchorage) who appear to have developed a system of hand signals to indicate whether to go to port or starboard, forward or back.  An equal number of couples appear to just yell loudly at each other.  With our headsets we can do it all!

And then there is our friend “Spot”.  We are able to send out a “spot” whenever we like, from anywhere in the world and it sends a short message and a Google map of our location to up to ten of our closest friends.  It’s pretty cool, and cute besides.  Reminds me of a rather bright orange puppy!

Last, but perhaps most importantly, we have satellite TV, satellite weather stations, cell phones and a laptop.  Oh, and lots of  music!

The Admiral doing engine check

I'm hoping that if the boating thing doesn't work out that I can get a gig with a NASCAR pit crew.


Let’s Dance…..Carol and Bill

New York, New York

After having all the fun that we could have on City Island, the Bronx, we pulled away from the marina and began the trip south through New York Harbor.  We were underway at 0830 -- finally a sunny day with a fine forecast, 72 degrees and calm seas.

Twenty-six minutes later we arrived a the Throg’s Neck Bridge…the beginning of the chute down the east side of Manhattan.

At 0916 we sped under the Bronx Whitestone Bridge and by 0928 we were at the end of runway 22 Alpha at LaGuardia.  Planes lift to the skies with alarming frequency.

Riker’s Island came into view to port at 0940 but we were zipping by at a jaw dropping 9.5 knots, so there was no time to gawk at the inmates.  Finally, the door to  Hell Gate is straight ahead and we are nudged onward through this most treacherous part of the journey.  Hell Gate is the name given to the confluence of the East River and Long Island Sound -- in which the currents ebb and flow in exactly the opposite directions. The tides and currents through the “Gate” run swift and strong and timing is everything for anything smaller than a battleship.  Naturally, Captain Bill had strategized and carefully plotted our passage through this particular channel and we were A OK, if a little dazzled, by our 10.3 knot pace.

New York City looks different from water level.  Take a look from the point of view of Let’s Dance.

We pass to the east of Governors Island and the glorious Statue of Liberty just two days before the tenth anniversary of 9/11.  Manhattan and America changed forever.

 

Many bridges, barges, ferries and tugs later, Let’s Dance, the Love Me Tender and her crew slip under the Verrazano Narrows  Bridge into the Lower Bay and then south into the waters of New Jersey.

The weather is fine, the seas are cooperative and Let’s Dance is on the way home.

Let's Dance.....Carol & Bill

Swan Song

Recently, on our southbound journey through Long Island Sound, we passed by the entrance to Greenwich Cove and were flooded with memories from our years there. In the late 1980’s, Bill took a job on Wall Street for the second time in his career, and we moved from Houston to Connecticut.  I scoured the area, searching for the perfect domestic nest (we were, after all, fairly newly wed) and found a delightful bungalow in the small town of Old Greenwich.  The cottage was located on a cul de sac that faced the water and, in addition to having tons of windows facing the sound, it had a charming, if slightly dilapidated, dock.  It was perfect!

We moved in in September and figured out within weeks that the perfection came with a major flaw….it was not fully winterized.  With no fireplace, an aging, oil guzzling  furnace and poor insulation, we learned to dress warmly. The view became a frigid landscape as ice soon covered the dock and frost dusted the marsh as the tides rose and fell daily.  It was a long winter.

Finally it was spring and a reprieve from the ice chest.  As the weather warmed, we ventured out more and more and soon it was time to put our sagging pier to use.  We cleaned off the tiny boat that had spent the winter upside down on the dock, bought a two (yes, two!) horsepower motor, life jackets and oars…our maritime careers now ready to begin.  We explored the shoreline of Greenwich and its environs, ogling the mansions that lined the shore and the sailing and motor yachts that graced the docks.  Envy was our middle name.

Our forays into the sound took on greater significance when fishing was added to the mix.  Captain Bill (at this point, admittedly only the captain of a eight foot, fiberglass skiff) acquired tackle, lures and local knowledge.  Bluefish and stripers were seriously pursued and often caught creating good  news/bad news situations.  The good news, of course, is that you’ve caught a fish.  The bad news, unfortunately, is that he’s a strong swimmer.  We discovered that a healthy striped bass, weighing, say 15 pounds, could, without much effort, pull our little boat behind it wherever it chose to swim!  This was amusing at first, but could become problematic if we were in an area with moorings, other boats, or docks.  Ultimately, the only thing to do was fight to bring them onboard or let them go.  Most lived to swim another day.

One day, Bill decided that the thing to do was to use live eels as bait.  Where he got this idea I do not know, but a pair of eels were bought, brought home in a cooler and the games began.  Just so you know, a live eel being used as bait is a very unhappy critter who is not easily coerced onto a hook.  They have tiny, razor like teeth and are as slippery as…. you guessed it.  Bill finally wrangled the two guys onto hooks with steel leaders and stuffed them back into the cooler for the short trip out into the sound.  I would not get into the little boat until the eels were properly controlled and there was no danger of their escape into the open cockpit. I honestly don’t remember if the eels produced a better result than any other sort of bait, but we still laugh about being in the cramped skiff with such vile and slimy creatures.

And so, memories of Old Greenwich savored, we continued our journey down Long Island Sound towards New York.  Leftover rain and winds from “Lee” and the potential threat from” Katia” made entering a marina a prudent idea.  Our first three choices for dockage were in Greenwich, Mamaroneck and Larchmont.  They were all full.  So, we opted for the North Minneford “Yacht” Club on City Island, NY from a guide full of possibilities and prepared to hunker down and wait out the storms.  We would have the luxury of unlimited fresh water, shore power to give our generator a rest and an easy walk to a market for provisions.  Perfect!

We dock and settle in. The next morning we don our rain gear to check out the town and discover that we have landed in the Bronx!  Who knew?  City Island is a small, narrow bit of rock just north of the Throg’s Neck Bridge, Hell Gate and the entry to the East River.  We are well positioned for the next leg of the trip.  The weather, however, has not cooperated and one of our lines has snapped from the strain of the wind during the early morning hours.  Tom, from a neighboring sailboat, comes to help and brings two extra lines to make us more secure.  Let’s Dance is now bound to the wave-washed dock by no less than 8 lines!  We are snug and secure for another soggy day.

Two more days on City Island and we are practically natives.  Only our accents betray us as southerners.  Tomorrow we head out, but for tonight we are feted by the locals --

Let’s Dance……Carol and Bill

Same Song, Second Verse

Almost one year ago to the day, Captain Bill, Let’s Dance, the Love Me Tender and I motored into Smith Cove off the coast of Castine, Maine to wait out the expected ravages of hurricane Earl.  The weather gods were with us that time, and this year proved to be no different.

Smith Cove is an acknowledged “hurricane hole” so it is no wonder that boats of all shapes and sizes come here when foul weather is expected.  Bill and I arrived a little late to the party, since I had just returned from North Carolina, and there were conservatively 50 boats anchored or moored when we got here on Saturday afternoon.  The inner cove was full, but we were able to secure an aisle seat in the outer harbor, just out of the swing range of a bevy of major sailboats. (Let’s Dance is the green boat far right.)

All afternoon the radio chatter increased as crews checked in with each other to discuss scope, drag, weather and, there being a fair number of Kiwis in the area, sundowners as well.   From our vantage point on the periphery of the action, we watched the drama unfold.   Rows of sailboats, ranging in length from 40 to over 150 feet have dropped anchors -- some have two or three anchors out, some have buoys on their anchor lines to mark the direction of their chains.  The winds increase and the radio chatter increases with it.  Now, a few of the sailboats admit that their anchors seem to be dragging and are having difficulty maintaining a good hold.  More chatter, more wind.  The games begin!

The major players in this little drama turn out to be named “Huckleberry”, “Nirvana”, “Zephiro” and “Cracker Bay.”  Apparently Huckleberry (the massive, blue hulled sailboat above, weighing in at 130 feet with a 13 foot draft and 23 foot beam) with her professional, uniformed crew of six, arrived early and settled herself and her three anchors across the center of the field of play.  She has effectively created the skeleton of the underwater (and therefore invisible) web of anchor chains.  Nirvana is the smallest of the lot, with a length of only about 50 feet.  She has only one anchor and as she attempts to strengthen her position she catches one of Huckleberry’s lines.  They consult, confer, decide to wait a few minutes to see what shakes out.  Now Zephiro breaks loose and she becomes tangled in Huckleberry’s lines as well.  The captain of Huckleberry is remarkably calm as all sorts of posturing takes place.  Darkness is coming on fast. The wind is picking up. The intertwined boats agree to remain joined, although Nirvana believes that she is hooked on a rock rather than a Huckleberry.  The radio is practically sparking as conversations fly back and forth in the twilight.

Now Cracker Bay enters the fray.  She is a motor yacht and, while in no immediate danger from one of the wayward sailboats, she feels that Tivoli, a latecomer to the party, is too close to her.  Who should move?  More chatter.  Bill sets the radio on “scan” so we can hear all the conversations on various channels and we watch and listen in amusement as the drama continues to unfold.  Cracker Bay decides to pull up her chains to move further from Tivoli and grudgingly begins the process.  She has out 300 feet of chain from each of her two anchors, so this is no quick and easy task.  Artemis and Lady Sandals remain quiet while others chime in with comments and suggestions.  Azucar and White Wings agree with Wild Horses to stay on the sidelines and out of harm‘s way.  Zephiro  repositions herself and is told that she’s now 15 feet closer to Huckleberry that she was before her move.

 The weather is still uncertain, and even though Irene veered inland after making landfall in New York, it’s clear that we are still in for an eventful night.  Winds on our anemometer have ranged from 10 to 42 knots all afternoon and are pretty steady in the 25 to 30 knot range.  Let’s Dance is a trooper, and she hardly rocks as the waves in the harbor grow to over three feet.  It’s choppy, but comfortable and after dinner and a movie, I head off to my cozy berth to be lulled to sleep by Irene.  No sleep for Bill…the captain always stays up with his ship in foul weather.  It could be a long night!  Bill creates an anchor alarm circle with a 160 yard diameter on our navigation software.  If Let’s Dance wanders beyond this range an alarm will sound and we will rush into action!  Luckily, we only swing in a wide arc and no alarm sounds.  Likewise, through “AIS” he is able to keep an eye on the cast of characters sharing our cove.  A significant move by any of the other boats would be noticed immediately by the alert Captain Bill.

Rain comes and goes throughout the night, but it’s never heavy. Winds come and go as well, but the real story is the neighbors.  Close to midnight, Nirvana admits the need for a second anchor, but doesn’t have one.  And all her chain is out -- she has nothing more to give!  Huckleberry sends two crewmen over by dinghy to help and another boat lends a spare anchor.  A third has extra chain to lend.  No one wants to be the recipient of a late night bump and run, so all are vigilant and ready to assist the needy.  The radio chatter finally recedes about one in the morning and it seems that everyone is tired of talking and ready for some quiet time.  I get up about three to check on the captain and find him on the settee in the pilothouse with only one eye open.  All is calm for the remainder of the night.

Dawn comes early down east, and with it a deceptively gorgeous day after.  The skies are a brilliant blue and the waters in the cove have gentled significantly.  Only a few of the flotilla have left our safe haven and all of the players from Saturday’s drama are still at anchor.  The radio starts to buzz again as crew members awaken.  There is talk about moving out to spend some time in Belfast to our north or to move onto a mooring closer to town now that the storm is history.  No one is moving quickly, however, and there is still the tangled sub-sea web to be unraveled.  Nirvana’s crew had a longer night than most and it shows in their radio transmissions.  They are ragged.   Huckleberry’s captain has it all in hand, however, and by early afternoon the knot of anchor chain has been unwound and Nirvana is free.  She returns the borrowed anchor and other gear and moves away from the crowd to nurse her pride in private.

Bill and I spend the day watching the action and eavesdropping on the radio banter.  We are much more confident this summer and, having learned that it can take several days for the ocean to quiet after a storm, decide to lounge in Smith Cove for another night.  We are entertained by some of Skippy’s bewhiskered seal friends…curious little fellas who stick just their slick, smooth snouts above the water to check out the neighborhood.  Very cute, but camera shy.  No seals were captured on film.  The Love Me Tender is secured on the upper deck, so there is no way to explore the area, but we busy ourselves reading and making a blueberry pie.  If blueberries are indeed brain food, we should be geniuses by the end of the summer!

Finally, two full days after Irene’s departure we are ready to leave the security of Smith Cove.  Headsets on for communication, we prepare to raise our anchor.  Bill on the bow pulpit, me in the pilothouse, we begin the familiar process.  Forty-five minutes later we have finally brought up all 230 feet of chain that we deposited on the muddy bottom of the cove.  Bill re-marks the chain with color-coded ties at each 50 foot interval and hoses it down with salt water as it comes up…a very messy business for him.

We depart Smith Cove for parts south at about 1100 hours on glassy water with clear skies and 62 degrees.  Time to take this song and dance show back to South Carolina and the warmer waters there.  We were grateful that this year’s hurricane event was, for us at least, a non-event.  Our second summer in Maine, our second hurricane, singing the same tune, this year with a new verse added.

Let’s Dance……Carol & Bill

Ports of Call

Like most boaters, we choose our anchorages, at least in part, by the quality of the reviews in Waterway Guides and other sources.  Areas are rated according to their ease of entry, holding, protection from winds and amenities (or lack thereof) for crew.  And,  because this year we decided to try some new spots, we chose an anchorage between Dix and High Islands about 15 miles off the Maine coast from Camden.  We were not disappointed.  When we arrived in late afternoon sunshine, there were about seven sailboats and 2 power boats already in place.  They have Waterway Guides, too, I guess.  As always, we opted for a back row seat and dropped our hook behind the crowd in about 24 feet of water.

In the 1800‘s, Dix Island was home to a major quarry which produced many of the huge granite stones that became centerpieces of some of Washington’s most impressive buildings.

At one time there were reported to be over 2,000 workers living on the tiny island, but today only a few isolated souls call it home.  The current residents own the island and their numbers are not likely to increase exponentially as they eschew electricity and pump their own water by hand.  Hmmmm….not much chance that we would be interested in a second home here.  However, they don’t mind visiting boaters going ashore as long as you “follow the path” and don’t mess with them.  So we did.  Follow the path, that is.

Bill directed the Love Me Tender to the small, rough sand and boulder beach where the trail began.  The locals had thoughtfully mowed a swath of grass, and lined it with homemade “path” signs so visitors would not go astray.  The island was very scenic, covered with pines, yarrow, rose bushes, apple trees and wild berries -- both black and raspberries.  Yum!  The path wove all the way around the island, and my only moment of hesitation was when a small (but fierce) snake slithered across the grassy walkway.  He got my attention!  “Okay, Bill, why don’t you walk in front now, please.”

The walk was very pleasant and it felt good to be on land for a short while.  When we pulled up the anchor to leave the next morning, we were the last boat left in the area.  A lone seal peeked above the waterline up ahead to wish us bon voyage, and we smiled back.  Bill thought it might have been Skippy (a small friend he named last summer) recognizing us… but I don’t think so.  Something not quite right about the whiskers.  Anyway,  we motored north to another popular anchorage off the eastern end of Vinalhaven Island -- Seal Bay.  The guides give this area top marks in every field.  And it is no wonder:  the place is gorgeous!  The entry into the bay is fairly tight and you really have to heed the charts as rock outcroppings lie in wait for the unobservant.  We successfully navigated our way in and found the perfect spot for the night.  By now, we are pretty spoiled by all the starlit skies and calm waters.

We spent my birthday exploring Seal Bay with the plan of leaving the next day for Camden.  Just when you think the world is your oyster…the fog shuts you down.  Drippy skies, zero visibility, fog everywhere, the decision is easily made.  How about another day in Seal Bay?  Brilliant idea!  We read and write and study charts and manuals and cook and clean and otherwise entertain ourselves for another 24 hours.  Not a bad way to spend a day.

We’re now in Camden, Maine and it’s a great town for friends -- both old and new.  Yesterday we noticed a fellow Nordhavn in the harbor and scooted over in the Love Me Tender to introduce ourselves.   The owners turned out to be a nice couple from Florida and we invited them over for a drink. Then today, lunch at a charming, old fashioned diner in Thomaston with Haig Point friend Debbie Hull.  Dinner tonight with Blane and Anne Bowen whom we met last winter on Man O War cay in the Bahamas……all fun treats for us and new people to tell our stories to as well.

Tomorrow I leave for a week in Highlands, NC to help my mom move into the “mountain home” and the Captain will be left to his own devices in Camden Harbor.  He assures me that his list of boat projects is long and that he will not be lonely, but really, after being within shouting distance of each other for all these months, however will he manage?

Let’s Dance…..Carol & Bill
 

Just Another Day

While a great number of days aboard Let’s Dance meld seamlessly one into another, some days stand alone in our memories -- for good or for not so good.  August 8th was one of those good summer days. 

The morning broke clear and still after a rough and stormy predecessor.  We had anchored off Portsmouth, NH, just on the edge of the Maine border and probably swayed between the two states overnight as the currents and tides shifted us from side to side.  We set off with blue skies overhead and flat water below.  Underway, about 10 minutes later, we could see fog enveloping the base of the lighthouse at the harbor’s entrance.  In front of us, a long barge carrying a  tall crane was being pulled along the channel by a tug, and soon we could see only the crane’s top. You guessed it -- our first full day in Maine and we are in a heavy fog.

For several hours we chugged along in the gray light, mindful of lobster buoys, fishing boats and any other unfortunates crossing our path.  Estimated visibility was about ¼ mile or less and we were lucky that few other boats were about.  One sailboat nipped behind us with a short horn toot to alert us to her presence, then faded back into the mist.  Captain Bill has pretty much perfected spotting “targets” or “bogeys” as they appear on the radar screens in the pilothouse.  One radar monitor is set to 2 nautical miles and the other to 3.  Rings indicate 500 yard distances, radiating out from us at the center of the screen, so it’s possible to track other boats without looking out the windows.  I’m almost certain that Bill can tell the hull color of approaching traffic he’s so good at this.

The fog lifted and descended intermittently throughout the rest of the day, but our attention was diverted by other events.  About 10 am, just off the starboard bow, a chubby seal surfaced for a quick look, then dove out of sight.  I wish he’d stayed around a bit longer, but he seemed to have more important things on his agenda than entertaining us.  By noon, the seas had flattened to a broad sheet of silver and we skimmed along at over 7 knots -- pretty fast for Let’s Dance!  Bill and I were in the pilothouse when we both noticed a quick flash, like a tiny lightning strike, in the water straight ahead of us.  A second later, we saw another flash and this time recognized it as a fish flying out of the water as if pursued by demons.  In fact it was being chased, but by a whale!  Wow!  Our first whale sighting aboard LD.  Six miles off the coast of southeast Maine in about 100 feet of water -- this guy was big -- 12 to 15 feet long and incredibly sleek and purposeful.  We pity the flying fish, as he surely became lunch, or at least a tasty snack, for the big fella.

After our lunch of BBQ chicken, salad and grapes, we settled in for a quiet afternoon.  I took the helm (yes, Bill does sometimes let me drive!) and the Captain went to the salon for a break.  We were temporarily fog free, but the skies were still leaden -- just the sort of light that makes the sea and sky blend together with no discernible horizon.  A flock of lithe skimmers -- agile black and white little birds -- caught my attention.  They work as a group, circle a patch of glassy smooth ocean, dart down and then back up, presumably with special treats in their tiny tummies.

Late afternoon brought another fun sight to behold.  We passed by two guys in a 25 foot fishing boat who had just landed what appeared to be a giant tuna.  We could only see the head of the fish as it hung out the back of their boat and it was huge.  The guys were high-fiving each other and shouting for us to look -- the catch had clearly made their day and there were bound to be fish stories told this night.

So, a busy day for us -- fog and rain and sunny blue skies; calm and wind-roughened seas; whale and seal sightings; skimmer adventures and fish stories -- just another day in the life of Let’s Dance.  We anchored in the lee of Cliff Island, in Casco Bay, and ended the day’s journey with a quiet cocktail on the fly bridge.  Time for reflection and laughter.

And then, this morning, more excitement and we haven’t even raised the anchor!  A real-deal Maine lobsterman and his mate circle around us to pull up and re-bait their traps.  We have inadvertently anchored ourselves in the center of their lines and buoys and have a front row seat for the show.  Usually thought to be taciturn, this fisherman is downright chatty -- wanting to know where we’re from, how we like our Nordie, where we are headed next -- he is our new best friend.

On a last circle around Let’s Dance, he pulled up next to us and I thought he might offer us a lobster. (That was my hope, anyway!)  Instead, he offered us a mooring in the inner harbor in case we wanted to go ashore to explore the tiny island that he calls home.  We declined, as we are motoring a bit further north today, but it was fun to experience this small bit of Americana called Cliff Island.

Let’s Dance……Carol and Bill

Rhode Island

Greetings from the shaded salon of Let’s Dance, as we prepare to spend another night just offshore from the quiet village of Vineyard Haven, MA.  We’re anchored here for a few days before moving on to a Nantucket reunion with Dallas friends from years past.

Last summer, on the maiden voyage of Let‘s Dance, we almost ignored little Rhode Island altogether, stopping only for minor repairs and maintenance near Newport.  We have righted that omission this summer by more thoughtfully exploring the rivers and bays of this tiny gem of a state.  Our first stop was at Watch Hill which sits almost on the border of Connecticut.  From the water, huge, stately, shingled homes dot the hillside, along with a stunningly yellow Victorian hotel.  One could imagine ladies with parasols and gents with canes strolling the verandahs on a summer evening.  A tranquil piece of real estate, indeed.

Opting to not enter the fairly shallow harbor, we decided to anchor in about 20 feet of water off the beach, on the ocean side of the peninsula.  It was a gorgeous night, flat water, starry skies and excellent company.  We watched the news, Jeopardy and an episode of Boston Legal before bedtime, as has become our custom.  Next thing we know, our world is being rocked…literally.  Let’s Dance is shaking and shimmying and  rolling side to side.   Looking out the stateroom porthole, the water appears calm…not totally flat, of course, but not crashing waves either.  We have become the victim of fetch!

Fetch, or fetch length, plays a role in determining the size of a wave based on the length of water over which it travels and the wind speed that propels it along.  For us, that meant that all the open water that was between us (snuggled up to the Rhode Island coastline) and the eastern tip of Long Island, was, under cover of darkness, making its way towards us, gaining strength along the way.  Long, long swells of ocean kept us from enjoying a good night’s rest.  There is not a single thing fetching about fetch.

We journeyed on the next morning up the western side of Narragansett Bay, ending a short day on the water in a wonderfully calm and protected harbor called Dutch Island Harbor.  The anchorage was on the west side of Conanicut Island, a short walk across the island  from Jamestown.  This village was named after the Duke of York, who later became King James, in 1678 (1678!)  After a few days here, we continued north and west, to the charming town of Wickford.  Another anchorage for us and several short trips in the Love Me Tender to explore the town.  We’d hoped to attend a shore side concert one night, but a late afternoon squall kept us on board, dry and safe. 

Just north of Wickford there is Quonset Point, origin possibly of the Quonset hut, and home to a fleet of military C-130 cargo planes.  Captain Bill reminisced about his days as a reluctant jumper -- “Stand up!  Hook up! Ready! Jump!”


Next stop:  East Greenwich, RI.  We don’t know anything for certain, but there is a definite ‘matrimonial’ air about this little town.  Per block there were more wedding dress boutiques, jewelry stores, beauty salons and bakeries than would seem to be the norm for a town this size.  That, and an abundance of barber shops, most with red, white and blue poles turning out front, had our curiosity aroused.  My old (long-time?) friend, Chris Born, came aboard here, bringing us a much appreciated array of cheeses, crackers, cornichons, chutney, champagne and chocolate.  That’s a lot of “c’s”.  Thanks, Chris!  After dinner in town, Chris returned to doctoring in Providence and Bill and I motored back to Let’s Dance.

Bristol caught our fancy next and we spent a delightful afternoon touring the town.  The 4th of July is really big here, and a permanent red, white and blue stripe is painted down the center of the main street.  A fascinating museum is dedicated to the Herreshoff family’s history of boat building.  From the 1850’s until 1945, this company was at the forefront of ship building - designing the first US Navy torpedo boat in 1876 and continuing on to the first catamaran and a series of racing yachts that led to America’s Cup wins through the 1930’s.  Quite a talented family of sailors and inventors. 

Our tour of Rhode Island concluded with a lazy glide down the Sakonnet River through pastoral farm lands dotted with hillside cottages, barns and the occasional large estate.  It is a beautiful area, surprisingly rural to be located so close to Newport.  Along the route we were hailed by “Summer Skis”, a Nordhavn 43 whose owner watched us from shore.  We chatted and were invited to make use of his mooring at Block Island on our return trip south.  Very thoughtful of him.

Since arriving at the Vineyard, Bill has changed from tourist mode to Captain mode once more.  He has donned wet suit and hookah to clean Let’s Dance’s hull, checked her propellers and zincs, tightened the davit seals and otherwise assured that she is ship shape and finely tuned for the next leg of the journey.  Fully rested, Captain and crew weigh anchor tomorrow for the 30 mile jaunt to Nantucket. 

Stay safe, friends, and enjoy the rest of the summer!

Let’s Dance…..Carol and Bill

Diversionary Tactics

Some of you have wondered aloud, or perhaps quietly amongst yourselves, what on earth do they do out there for days, no weeks, at a time?  Even months at a stretch?  So, whether your curiosity is piqued or not, here’s a short primer on how to divert oneself at sea.

First, since someone must always be at the helm, the variety and scope of dials and buttons and meters of every sort in the pilothouse can provide some modest form of entertainment.  If, for example, you wish to decipher the wind gauge readings, you need to learn to differentiate between true wind angle and apparent wind angle.  Captain Bill can wile away hours on end studying manuals on everything from stabilizer settings to provide the optimum calming effect in rough seas to the care and maintenance of the water maker.  On occasion, he is also diverted by golf tournaments on TV or World Series of Poker reruns.

One day we had some innocent fun off the coast of New Jersey as we motored north.  A beautiful day, if slightly hazy, with mild temperatures -- in the high 70’s, in fact.  So the doors into the pilothouse are open to the breezes and slight salty tang in the air.  We’re entertaining ourselves reading guide books about Rhode Island when several pesky little black flies decide to join us. No harm in a letting a little bit of nature in, so we ignore them.  More arrive, and they begin to organize themselves into a regiment of tiny attackers.  OK.  Enough.  They bite and sting and then dart into the safety of the salon.  We counter with fly swatters and determination.   They are small and sneaky, but we manage to get their attention by sending a number of their comrades to a watery grave…overboard. 

They redouble their efforts, now attacking knees and ankles.  Bill’s calves are especially alluring to the little biters, but we still have a slight edge, we think.  In addition to the pair of swatters, we bring in the hand vacuum!  Aha!  As they are stunned by the flick of Bill’s wrist, he moves in to suction their tiny carcasses into the clear tank.  Insect bodies swirl in the maelstrom of dust and crumbs.

Now I shift my efforts to the salon where a large contingent have fled to hide behind the mini-blinds.  I carefully raise the blinds to reveal their hiding places and then: smack, smack, smack.  Three for three!  I can hear swats from the pilothouse, too, quickly followed by tiny bursts of suction.  Another one bites the dust! 

The game is on, and Captain Bill develops a new technique.  No need for the fly swatter, as he adroitly wields the hand vac alone.  Suction on, he creeps towards the little flier, patiently, patiently.  Just when the winged intruder is confident of his safety, Bill strikes, sweeping the end of the vacuum over the fly who is swiftly sucked into the clear chamber.  This method is particularly effective on flies who are themselves diverted by looking out the windows.

We did not win, but were mightily entertained for a short while on what would otherwise have been a very dull afternoon indeed.  Of course, there are often times when other vessels in the neighborhood of Let’s Dance require our complete attention.  For this we have trained and are up to the task!

As far as diversions go, we are perhaps too easily amused.  But there are a lot of hours in the day, and days in the week, with just the two of us aboard, and sometimes any silly little thing that incites laughter is most welcome.  We have books and logs and videos and charts and manuals and, always, we have music.  Because, naturally, for diversion, sometimes you just gotta dance!



Let's Dance.....Carol & Bill

It’s a Man’s World

Greetings Friends and Curious Onlookers --
The adventures and mis-adventures of Let’s Dance continue.  Last week,
Captain Bill and his intrepid crew (Larry Crowley, John Clarke and George
Morgan) set out from Daufuskie Island for an offshore passage to the
Chesapeake Bay.  It was a win-win situation.  The guys would enjoy a
maritime bonding experience and I would be spared a 24/7 marathon sea
cruise.  A celebratory bon voyage dinner at our house, with special hurrahs
from me, preceded their dawn departure the next morning.

Here’s the version of the passage (with just a hint of editorializing) I heard from Captain Bill after the fact.  There could be other interpretations…..

0620 and the quartet of old salts is underway with flat seas and a brilliant red sunrise over Hilton Head.  First order of business for the newly minted crew -- safety!  What to do, what not to do, cautions, drills, basic navigation and boat orientation…..all explained concisely, including how to flush the heads.  Very important to know.  Gear stowed, the enthusiastic anticipation of four straight days at sea is a guy thing for sure.

By mid day, the fishing lines are in and two Spanish mackerel are landed by John post haste.  Dinner is assured.  The rest of the day and night pass uneventfully, with calm seas, light winds and shared tall tales of the sea.  One man shifts, each three hours long, assured overnight security and all was quiet. By 0800 the next morning, seas have freshened to 3 to 5 feet from the starboard quarter and continue to build throughout the afternoon.  George has caught a mahi mahi that John decides to cook up as an appetizer, but with increasing waves the galley becomes more like a ping pong table than a kitchen.  The guys are bounced from port to starboard and the stabilizers are working overtime to combat the swaying motion.  Now the Atlantic tests them with 5 to 7 foot seas and strengthening winds.  It could get interesting tonight!

As night settled over Let’s Dance and her crew, the forecasts were for seas in the 8 to 10 foot range with winds gusting up to 25 knots.  It is getting interesting, indeed.  So the question is, stay out in the Atlantic and muddle through or head in for the night.  The decision is made quickly as the guys are fast approaching the last entrance to a safe harbor before the eastward sweep of the Outer Banks makes landfall problematic.  Two in the morning finds them anchoring off the Coast Guard station in Morehead City, NC to await the passing of the front.

Fast forward to late the next afternoon, Saturday.  231 miles of the trip to Norfolk remain -- approximately 37 hours of trawler time.  Our sailors set out from their anchorage and the adventure continues.  About 90 minutes into this leg of the passage, it’s noticed that there is an increased load factor on the engine (huh?) and a significantly higher fuel burn.  (Rocket science on the open ocean!)  Consultation with Captain Bernie in Florida, pow-wows among the crew, options weighed and reviewed --- it’s decided to head back in to Morehead City and  deal with the engine issues. Another night at anchor.  By the following morning fuel filters are changed, as it was thought that the prior day’s rough seas might have stirred up any sediments in the fuel tanks that then clogged the filters.  Sounds logical to me, Captain Bill.  At this point, delays have provided John with the impetus needed to jump ship before the conclusion of the escapade -- a ‘very important meeting’ is scheduled two days ahead and the airport is in a city that is still several hundred miles away.  John is dropped at a nearby marina to find his way back to Houston. The remaining seamen head back out to the Atlantic, confident once again in the equipment, to continue the journey.  And then there were three.

Now the seas are flat, the winds calm, the heat index climbing and the little Lugger engine purring as the crew heads out around Cape Hatteras on the last leg of the trip.  More fishing lines are thrown and mahi mahi find their way on board.  They were released to swim another day, but, hey, it’s all about the challenge, right?  The last day passes uneventfully and Let’s Dance settles into the Vinings Landing Marina in Norfolk, VA, the end of the line, for the night.  The passage is a success and high fives are shared.  Captain Bill hosts a farewell dinner for Larry and George and spirits are high as the “no alcohol” on passages rule is no longer in effect.  As dinner ended, George was picked up by a friend to start a golf outing in the area.  And then there were two.

Tuesday morning, day six of the journey, Larry leaves Let’s Dance to return to Cape Cod.  The crew has traveled 543 nautical miles over 5 days.  Bill was most grateful for the companionship, humor and expertise brought by each of the mates.   It is good to have friends!  And then there was one.

Captain Bill was alone, but not for long!  I arrived at the Norfolk airport at 2 that afternoon and taxied over to Let’s Dance: reunited at last with her, Captain Bill and the Love Me Tender.  Sheets and towels were already in the laundry; the salon and galley in impeccable order.  Very impressive, Bill.

Our plan for the coming months resembles last year’s journey, with one big, big difference.  We are no longer completely green, newbie seafarers.  We have fourteen months, 6,100 miles, countless anchoring, moorings and dockings behind us.  Over-confidence is not, however, in our repertoire. We are still just beginners, taking baby steps and relying on those with more experience to lead us on. Thanks, then to all of those who aid and abet, from

Let’s Dance……Carol & Bill

Water Logs

Now that we’re home and securely locked into our life on land routine, we have looked back on this, our second major voyage aboard Let’s Dance, with satisfaction and a sense of  accomplishment earned through persistence, patience, creativity and more than a touch of luck.

We have enough maritime memories to last for years, and enough pilfered shells to pave a walkway.  Some of our favorite times were spent on remote anchorages, deserted white sand beaches only a Love Me Tender ride away from the mother ship.  The lack of other boats in the Exumas was surprising to us, but pleasant, as we tend to shy away from crowds wherever we go.  This is due, no doubt in part, to our anchoring technique.  Again, with the mathematical precision of a computer programmer, the captain figures the correct ratio of water depth to length of rode (sea talk for anchor chain) necessary for optimum holding.  Calculations made, we often put out 100 to 150 feet of chain.  Imagine you‘re in ten feet of water then, and you can see that our potential arc is over 90 feet!  No wonder we try to anchor off from the crowds.  Often we would share an anchorage with only sea critters for company.  Perfect!

Let’s Dance’s Bahamian voyage saw many new entries for our daily logs:

We added 1,400 nautical miles to the odometer and are new proud owners of a Nordhavn 5,000 mile club pennant!  It will be proudly displayed adjacent to the 2,500 mile pennant we earned mid-summer last year on our Maine adventure.

We made our first ocean crossing and our first overnighter with just the pair of us on board.  I was skeptical of my ability to hold up with little sleep, but Bill’s confidence and good humor got us through with only minor grumbling on my part.

The longest continuous leg of the journey was 203 nautical miles.  It took us about 28 hours  -- divided into two hour watches -- and gallons of hot coffee -- to make the offshore passage from Port Canaveral, FL to Sapelo Island, SC.  About 8 am the second  morning we were entertained by a trio of bottlenose dolphins as they charged our bow then leapt and dove, using our wake as a their own personal rollercoaster.  Later, during one of my daylight stints, I sighted what appeared to be a swiftly moving shopping mall skimming along the horizon.  As it moved closer, I could spot several Coast Guard escorts, so obviously, it was not a mall. It proved to be an honest to goodness Navy nuclear submarine.  On the surface!  Soon the VHF radio crackled, with a young male voice saying, “Let’s Dance, this is the US Coast Guard!  Answer on channel 16!”  By this time, Bill was in the pilothouse with me and he picked up the call.  “This is Let’s Dance on 16, what can we do for you?”  Young voice:  “I have to advise you, captain, that you must keep a minimum distance of 500 yards from all naval vessels!”   Hmmm…Captain Bill responds, with assurance, “Yes, sir!  Our radar indicates that we are 2 and a half miles from the submarine.”  Young voice:  “Ah, yes, well, carry on, captain.”  Guess we showed him we know our stuff!

Positive surprises included cooler weather than anticipated, the accuracy of our charts (both paper and electronic), the friendliness of the Bahamian people and the broad coverage of Bahama’s phone service.  (Remember the 13 phone calls Bill made to James in West Palm as he reattached the fallen windlass?)

Minor disappointments were again primarily technical in nature.  Internet access was problematic at best and infuriatingly slow when it deigned to appear at all.  Our navigation system often cut out at the beginning of the journey, but with two backup systems, we were never really out of touch with our surroundings -- just slightly aggravated until Bill worked with the tech folks and got us back on line.

Mother Nature did more than her share of both delighting us and giving us pause.  I saw the ‘green flash’ twice, five water spouts kept us rapt as they danced away from us, flying fish by the hundreds skipped to port and starboard as we disturbed their peace and Bill caught enough fish to both eat and freeze.  And the stars -- beyond my pale ability to describe.

We also encountered ‘the rage’ for the first (and second) times on the return trip aboard our sturdy ship.  A rage forms at inlets or breakwaters when outgoing tides collide with incoming swells pushed by substantial winds.  Our exit from the Ft. Pierce, FL channel into the Atlantic provided just the right conditions for an angry sea.  Swells of up to eight feet slammed our bow repeatedly -- 20 minutes or so that felt like hours.  We lunged forward then reared back as the waves pounded on Let’s Dance.  Aside from minor discomfort at not being able to move around, we suffered no damage and were once again pleased with our choice of boat.  Our second encounter with the rage took place at the juncture of Sapelo Sound and the Atlantic.  Again, a narrow breakwater channeled the outgoing tide directly into the incoming swells but, having experienced this before, we were prepared for the wild ride.  (A lesson learned early on in our aquatic adventures:  always secure everything in the boat, from dishes to books to food in the fridge, before getting underway.)

So, the 2011 spring voyage of Let’s Dance brought laughs, awe, patience, hard work, luck, pride, deep breaths and wonder.  We had such a great time that we’re going to do it again!  July will see Bill and some buddies making an offshore passage from Daufuskie to the Chesapeake where I will join him for the rest of the summer’s travels.  We hope to spend more time in fewer places this summer, but as before, will just follow our noses and see where we end up.

Oh, “Water Logs.”  Only recently I learned that the unfortunate word “blog” was derived from the terms “web” and “log.”  I don’t like that, so from now on, these little snippets of our life at sea will be ‘water logs.’  Enjoy your summer and come back for another trip aboard


Let’s Dance…..Carol & Bill

Home Again, Home Again

After almost three months of leisurely wandering the isolated cays of the Exumas and the Abacos aboard Let’s Dance, it’s finally time to return to our other world.  As with our initial jaunt across the Gulf Stream, this passage was planned with the precision of a military mission.  First comes reconnaissance: chart books, guides, calculators are gathered.  Angles depicting the likely push of the Gulf Stream flow are factored in as well as wind speed and direction, boat speed (or lack thereof), currents and tides.  Sunrise, moon rise, possibility of rain.  It’s all there.  I am reminded of the old math problem wherein the eastbound train, traveling at 53 mph with 9 passengers on board etc., etc.  I didn’t understand it then and I really don’t get it now, but Captain Bill made all the calculations and presented the plan to me, on paper, with drawings, arrows, lines of drift, appendices and all sorts of other data.  It was impressive.

Time to move  closer to our departure point,  “the plan” at the ready.  We trek westward until we reach the edge of the Bahama Bank where the ocean plummets from depths in the teens to depths in the thousands.  We anchor in our usual efficient fashion and settle in for the last night on the bank.  I am awakened at 0430 for an on time 0500 departure.   Bill has figured that at 5.5 knots, with a projected 2 knot push north by the Gulf Stream that it will take us 11 hours to transit the miles between us and West Palm Beach.  We set the autopilot on a course of 239 degrees even though the direct course is at 267 degrees.  Aha!  We will fool mother nature by heading further south than we want to go so that we end up at our destination, 22 miles to the north.  It works!  By 1400 hours we are within sight of land -- Florida in our future -- but wait…..we cannot enter the harbor into Lake Worth at 1400 hours.  The current coming out the inlet is too strong, over 5 knots. The result of the spring full moon. It will not be at an acceptable level until 1730 at the earliest.  What to do?   Exercise the wing engine, of course.

And so we do, letting the little-used engine rev and stretch while we roll about off the coast.  It’s time for a short break in the mission and a crew debriefing.  There is a ton of information to be reviewed, remembered, recorded and retold.  Some highlights for the Captain include the small, sparrow-like bird that entered the pilothouse one morning as we cruised the open seas.  The little one rested his wings for a few moments, perched on the compass, while observing Bill at the helm.  Refreshed, he flew back out the door, leaving an astonished Bill in his wake.  Another special day brought six black fin tuna to our freezer via trolling lines in the cockpit.  These guys are fighters, and more than one escaped, taking a “Tuna Treat” or “Dolphin Delight” lure with them.  Then there was the day of the waterspouts!  Oh, my.  You don’t want to get anywhere near one of these destructively awesome displays of nature.  Even from several miles away, the volume of water that is sucked up into the funnel is visible as it churns into the clouds.  In one day we saw  three spouts, and that was enough to last us for quite a long while, thank you.

From my perspective, the precision of the daily operation of Let’s Dance created a sense of order and routine that was both comforting and seductive.  It is easy to fall into the lullaby created by the waves,  the background hum of the big diesel engine and the variety of music playing at all hours.  Given the aquatic backdrop, it’s natural to conjure stories of fanciful encounters with all manner of creatures -- flying fish, sea biscuits, starfish, pelicans, iguanas, wild pigs, jellyfish and dolphin, to name but a few.  There are still tales to be told!   In direct opposition to the lulling regimen of life at sea are the “wheeeee” moments. These occur with infrequency when we encounter mother nature in a snit.  Transiting the cuts from the Sea of Abaco into the Atlantic Ocean can provide such a moment.  We watch the weather always, and heed reports from other mariners, but sometimes you just gotta go.  Waves in the 5 to 6 foot range can cause havoc on Let’s Dance when they smack us on the beam.  The sturdy trawler has no issues, but the crew has to sit and hold on, or crab crawl to a more stable location.  Likewise, dipping and rising into oncoming seas brings salty spray over the bow and onto the windshield.  It’s a marine rollercoaster, well worthy of squeals of “wheeeee” and gulps of “yikes.”

Next time, we will try to summarize our adventures in a “by the numbers” style recount.  But for now, we are safely home on Daufuskie Island, relishing the remembered wonders of nature that we shared aboard Let’s Dance.  Here’s a small selection of the abundant natural beauty we captured..….deserted beaches, sunsets and moon rises, breaking waves, coral reefs, sandy inlets and open, endless seas. 

Bahama Beaches and Sunsets. Click Here!

On The Hook

Hello this afternoon from the sunny pilothouse of Let’s Dance.  It’s a warm day here on Green Turtle Cay (almost 80) and I’m in front of a fan as I overlook this pleasant little harbor.  We came in to this marina yesterday, primarily because of the availability of a semi-reliable internet connection.  A bit of interface with the outside world would be nice.

Our winter retreat has now spanned 79 days and the Captain and I thought it would be interesting to review how we’ve divided our time.  On seven nights, we stationed ourselves on mooring balls in two different island chains.  Thirteen nights we’ve actually paid to overnight at marinas.  That leaves a whopping 59 nights at anchor, or, as old salts say, nights “on the hook.”

The Land and Sea Park in the Exumas was formed to help protect the marine life and pristine reefs of the area, so naturally they prohibit dropping large metal objects onto the sea floor where coral could be damaged and fish traumatized.  Instead, mooring balls are provided on a first come, first served basis for $20 a night.  At the park HQ on Warderick Wells, there is a lovely woman with a lilting voice who answers radio calls from boats seeking moorings.  She politely asks for the length of the vessel, sail or power and then assigns the appropriate ball for pickup until all are taken.  At other locations in the park, guest “hosts” are available to answer questions and collect fees.  These volunteers come from all over the world in their boats to spend time in the Exumas helping others with local knowledge and friendship.  These were the same hosts we contacted by radio for aid and advice when we ran aground in the park.  Rangers came to the rescue, again with our sincere thanks.

Marinas everywhere are little hotbeds of nautical activity and are absolutely unmatched for great people watching.  We’ve only visited four different marinas this trip, and each was unique.  In Nassau, we docked at a fairly nice marina that shared a common waterway with a commercial pier.  Here the men who worked the boats lived on the boats.  There must not have been much work available, however, as most vessels never left the dock.  The men drank a lot of beer, smoked a lot of cigarettes and played loud music.  The good news was that most of the boats looked rusty enough to sink if they had gone out, so staying in was a good idea.  Our next marinas were on Man O War Cay and Green Turtle, and you already know those tales. 

That leaves Spanish Cay Marina.  We decided to go into this quiet harbor because the weather was due to turn and come from the northeast and we wanted some protection.  Forecasts called for the possibility of 50 knot wind gusts, and, sturdy as Let’s Dance is, why be uncomfortable?  The island once belonged to Clint Murchison of oil fame, and there are still remnants of a heyday there, including an old airstrip on one end of the cay.  A sign very clearly states that no driving is allowed on the runway.  Period.  OK, then, we won’t take the golf cart we rented down that path.  A good thing, too, as several single engine planes came and went over the next two days.  That afternoon, ahead of the pending storm, we walked from the southern shore of Spanish Cay across the sandy flats to Goat Cay at low tide.  There were some interesting shells, but nothing to compare with earlier finds farther north in the Abacos.  The first night at the marina was calm and we met a brave young couple with three youngsters on a bareboat sailing charter.  They were delightful and we learned that he owns Westbank Anglers in Jackson Hole ---- hmmmm, maybe we could visit them someday for a little fly fishing?

The next morning came in stormier, and by midday the skies were getting ugly and the wind beginning to gust.  Captain Bill had secured us the night before, but added a few more lines, just in case.  Let’s Dance looked a bit like a trussed turkey, but there was no way we could be jostled by this storm!  There were about ten boats (mostly sail) in the marina, which was partially protected by a stone seawall on the western side.  Let’s Dance was in a slip just three spaces in from the end, bow in to the dock.  Now comes the exciting part…..a large trawler, a Grand Banks 49, radios in for a slip, and in they come.  Just at the moment they pass the seawall and head to the slip next to us, the sky opens up, rains pelt down and the sea turns dark grey and angry.

Huge swells are pushing them into the dock faster than they should be coming in and it’s too late to stop their forward momentum.  Helpful hands come from other boats and soon there are about ten men on the dock reaching for lines to secure the trawler.  The wife is at the helm on the fly bridge and is getting directions from most of the ten helpers.  Starboard thrust!  Reverse idle!  Go forward! Thrust to port!  Stop!  (That poor woman!)  Her husband is on the bow, trying to get lines to the waiting men.  Swells are still pushing the boat forward and Bill and some others are manning lines from her stern to keep her from ramming the dock.

Meanwhile, our anemometer reads gusts to 40 knots and the wind is pushing the trawler sideways.  Luckily for Let’s Dance there was a pier between us and the unfortunate vessel, but a piling on her starboard pierced her swim platform and the teak was shredded.  Finally, the vessel was secured to the dock, the helpers left to tell their tales and the couple on board were, if not the day’s “entertainment”, at least the day’s diversion.

On a lighter note, there’s the tale of the skipper.  The morning of the storm, a very large yacht, which had been docked on the T end of the dock a few slips down from us, began to pull in their lines and fenders to depart.  The crew of two, in matching uniforms, readied the ship as a woman in work out clothes skipped rope on the bow.  OK.  Exercise is good.  The ship begins to back up, but winds and current push it toward the pilings on the dock.  No doubt fearing ugly scars down the side of the boat from rubbing against the pilings (the fenders are already stowed) the crew grab floor mats to place between the hull and the pilings as the yacht continues to back up.  They rush from piling to piling, frenzied to save the elegant navy finish on the hull.  As they finally clear the dock, the crew droop against the companionway while the woman continues, uninterrupted, to skip rope.  When last seen, the beautiful blue yacht, large, long scratches on her port side, motored west --- exercise class still in session for the party of one.

We like to anchor out.   It’s pretty easy to see why now, don’t you think?

Only a few days remain on this winter’s Bahamian voyage for Let’s Dance, the Love Me Tender et al. We will be joined by Leslye and David, my brother and his wife, for a few days to test their sea legs, then it’s back across the Gulf Stream to Florida and points north.  Time for a few more nights on the hook where the only drama we encounter will be that which we make….maybe it will be a musical! 

Let’s Dance…..Carol & Bill