A Big Caicos Welcome

Crossing the deep Caicos Passage from the lower Bahamas to Provo, Turks and Caicos Islands, was a study in aquatic serenity. The ocean this day was most agreeable. Surprising, and oh, so welcome.

The last nine miles (or one and a half hours) to our anchorage in Sapodilla Bay, on the south side of Provo, we were enclosed in a giant pool of shallow water with coral heads to dodge and clear water through which to admire the starfish and rays.

 When we reached the end of our charted route for the day we anchored carefully, and having raised our "quarantine" yellow flag, settled in for another quiet, star-filled night. Once again, we were treated to the sight of the famous "green flash" as we let go of the sun for another day.

Day one in the Turks and Caicos requires a trip into a Port of Entry to clear us and Let's Dance through customs. We launch the Love Me Tender gently into the sea, stuff the backpack with the necessary documentation, life vests, camera and cash. Lots of cash. From the guide books, we know that there is a customs clearing house at the island's government dock, just a short stroll up the hill from the beach. We head out walking and the adventure begins.

First, there are only two paved roads on the island of Provo, and this isn't one of them. Passing cars and trucks kick up plumes of chalky dust and we are soon liberally coated. We follow the road around several corners, and, dodging dump trucks and backhoes and cranes find ourselves at a security gate -- armed guards, no less!

They are friendly, but insist on searching our bags and persons. Since we are wearing only shorts and T-shirts, they relent on the body searches and settle for perusing our passports. We pass the test and are handed nifty little security badges to wear for the 1/4 mile walk further into the compound to the customs building. We play a short game of Dodge-em with the trucks entering and leaving the busy port. Soon we arrive at the barbed wire enclosed office and enter to meet our new best friend, Denise.

It is slow going, but we are able to answer all the questions correctly and are permitted to stay in the islands for up to three months. The quarantine flag can be replaced with the T&C courtesy flag. We choose to pay both entry and departure taxes at this time, along with the cruising permit for Let's Dance and Bill pulls out the Baggie of cash. A year ago a cruising permit cost $75 and the entry/exit stamps were $5 each -- total $85 for all this fun. Last week, however, the corrupt local government having been virtually liquidated by the British, costs have escalated and the permit ran $300 and the stamps $100!! Ouch! At any rate, we paid up and inquired about a taxi to pick us up at this off the beaten track (for tourists) locale. Can't be done, apparently, as they suggest we walk back the dusty road and around the corner to the Chalk Hill Police Station. They, we are told, will call a taxi for us. Okay, we walk.

We arrive at the station and enter, much to the surprise of the young officer at the desk. They must not get much drop-in traffic. He can't hail a taxi for us because he has no phone book. Seriously, this is what he says. He confers with other officers in the back room, and soon it is decided that his sergeant will drive us into town. Oh, my! The sergeant in question, our next best friend Tomiko, appears and we are off. He's delightful...a native of T&C who went to college in Miami to become a cop back home. Obviously an undercover cop as he's wearing ragged jeans and an old T-shirt. He drives us to the north side of the island so we can check out a marina and delivers us into the capable hands of his good friend Kyle, owner of the marina. We discuss slips -- width, length, depth -- entry to the marina at high tide (the only option for us), cost for electricity, water, internet etc. Deciding to think on it, we move next door for a quick lunch at the Tiki Hut. (Or, more aptly, A Tiki Hut.)

Big Jermaine was summoned by Kyle while we ate lunch and is on hand to taxi us back to our southern anchorage at Sapodilla Bay. Our third friendly encounter today. He and Captain Bill talk the intricacies of deep sea fishing (and catching) all the way back and the Captain learns a few new tricks. It's now late in the afternoon, and we are sated by a tasty lunch and coated with a thin film of Caicos dust. Jermaine leaves us and we wander down the beach to recover the Love Me Tender and head home. Now, there was a lesson that we learned the other week, and it entailed anchoring and tidal flow. Remember -- low tide equals beached dinghy? Apparently not a lesson well learned as the LMT is high and dry, a smug smile on her little bow.

I decide on a beach walk while the Captain chooses a short power nap in the stranded tender. What seems like hours later there is enough water below her keel to attempt a float plan and we are aided by British ex-pat Mark and his Haitian refugee friend, Francois. They have been sitting in the shade at the edge of the beach ever since we got here, and now they rush to assist. Mark, it turns out, owns the two bright yellow jet skis that are moored just beyond the low tide line. (That could have been a clue earlier.) He is adamant that he can pull our stubborn little tender into deeper water...pronto! And so he does.

End of day one in the Turks and Caicos and we feel well embraced by our new found friends. Tomorrow we will meet Simon, harbor master at South Side Marina, and begin a new chapter on the ever evolving journey of

Let's Dance.....Carol and Bill

The Road to Mayaguana

As boaters, if not as individuals, we are obsessively goal oriented. Last winter we realized our objective by motoring to, and returning from, the Bahamas. Our plan for the winter of 2012 was to continue past that now familiar island chain and continue in a lazy southerly crawl across the Tropic of Cancer into the crystalline waters of the Turks and Caicos Islands.

We left the relative bustle of George Town for the more remote Calabash Bay on nearby Gaillot Cay. This wide, crescent shaped bay is perched on the northernmost tip of Long Island (not to be confused with the one in NY, of course.) It is shallow and deceptively flat, as surge from the nearby ocean side rips around the edge of the island to create long swells. The anchorage is solitary, and the side to side sway of Let's Dance is lulling to the senses. We depart early the next morning and are gleefully escorted out of the bay by a pod (herd? bevy? posse?) of dolphin. They love playing in the wake created by the bow of the ship and we never tire of watching their fun.

Day two takes us fifty-eight nautical miles, down the eastern shore of Long Island to an even more remote anchorage named Little Harbor. The first hours of the passage, as we rounded the top of the island, were pretty rough and I chewed a Bonine to ward off the potential of sea sickness. We are not sure if this OTC medication is pronounced "Bo-neen" or "Bo-nine", but one day last year when I was at the helm in especially rough seas, Bill came up the stairs from the staterooms and very thoughtfully asked if he could bring me up a "bovine." Holy cow! Are there cattle in the hold?

Naturally, fishing lines were deployed, and this day, we prevail. A spectacular dolphin fish, or mahi mahi, could not resist the brightly hued green and black "Flash Dancer." The hook, hidden in the Dancer trailed about 8 feet behind the attractor, a glossy orange and black bird. It was just too delicious for him to pass up.

 So, our lead increases in the Captain Bill vs. fish competition. This tummy pleaser weighed in at 25 pounds with a length of 52 inches! Bravo, Bill! Fresh fish on our menu tonight!

We arrived at Little Harbor at 1610 hours and dropped our anchor in the completely empty bay. Alone again! Perfect! But not for long, of course. We were soon joined by "Twilight" and "Karma" and, finally, last to arrive, "Tangueray." Two sail boats and a Grand Banks trawler. They all knew each other and visited both over the radio and by dinghy. The trawler guy took his dinghy out for a quick ride to the other end of the bay and as he zoomed back to "Twilight" he was catapulted off the little boat into the water! Ouch! The dinghy's engine did not quit and it spun in dizzying circles as the young rider quickly swam away from it. The Love Me Tender was secured in her usual spot on the upper aft deck, so we were powerless to help, but "Karma" raced to the scene. Soon the jilted seaman and "Karma's" captain were able to stop the engine and the day was saved. A real rescue at sea!

The following day we added another 57 miles to the odometer and settled into a day on the open ocean. We truly were on our own as we continued south....the only sighting of another boat was of the "Chiquita Bremen", a massive 512 foot container ship with a beam of 72 feet and a 26 foot draft. That's a lot of bananas! Her closet point of approach, which we can calculate with our snazzy AIS system, was 1.3 nautical miles. That is plenty close for us, but she probably would have liked a closer look at our dance card.

Now we have reached the Acklins Group -- perhaps you've heard of them? Crooked Island, Long Cay, Fish Cay and Guana Cay make up this virtually uninhabited chain of islets at the bottom of the Bahamas. The government ferry comes twice a week and if you need propane you can send your tank on the mailboat to Nassau and it will be returned to you in a week. Island time. Flamingos abound in the inner flats and the bonefishing is said to be stellar. We stop for the night at yet another gloriously vacant harbor -- this one named Attwood Harbour on Lady Slipper Cay. A thin white sand ring defined the edge of the anchorage -- clear water, light wind, sunset coming soon. Drinks and snacks on the flybridge, another day well spent.

Next stop is the ever popular Abraham's Bay on Mayaguana Island. Here is some "Need-to-Know" information from the chart book:

Banks: None on island

Churches: Baptist and Jehovah's Witness

Dinghy landing: Government dock - very shallow, channel marked with sticks

Laundry: Inquire locally for hand washing

Marina: None on island

Medical Services: Government clinic with 24 hour nurse. Doctor lives on Inagua

Police: VHF 16 BOYS IN BLUE

We are on a mission to reach the Turks and Caicos ahead of a weather front, so there is no time to explore this southernmost Bahamian island. Maybe on the way back; maybe not. It is a wonderful anchorage, though, reef protected, with light winds and bright stars. We leave refreshed for the final leg of the journey as we depart to a sunrise to remember. The ocean is deep through the Caicos Passage, and the color of India ink. Deep, deep blue/black and, astonishingly calm.

The road to Mayaguana......another tale of life on the high seas. Hope you find your own iguana.

Let's Dance....Carol and Bill

Victory at Sea

Captain Bill and I, Let's Dance, the Love Me Tender, and even our sometimes recalcitrant generator, have settled into a rather monotonous daily routine as we proceed down our southerly path. Daily, we rise, check in with Morning Joe and Imus, sip black coffee, check the weather and the local "Cruiser's Net" chat, rev up the hearty 175 hp Lugger engine, raise the anchor and, charted route activated, set off to another beachy destination.

Afternoons, we anchor, record the day's stats for posterity, launch the tender, read or watch a little TV, and settle in to admire the 360 degree water views. Later, the generator gets exercised for a few hours, producing enough power to see us through another night. We catch the evening news, maybe a Jeopardy episode to keep our brains from complete atrophy. Very peaceful and hypnotic, these little daily rituals.

But then, we begin to experience a gradual erosion of the structure we've created. First, the satellite TV signal weakens and the lower numbered channels disappear. Somehow, all that we can access is the Golf Channel. Hmmmm. Only golf? Bill is thrilled to have this continued diversion, but soon our decreasing latitude makes even this powerful channel fade to nothing. We are without media! No national news, no national weather, no Jeopardy!

For entertainment, we shall have to look to ourselves! Can we do it? Yes, we are up to the task! I find a single deck of cards, slightly sticky from the salt air, and we consider our options. We decide on a Bahamian-style Gin Tournament -- thusly named because neither of us remembers the actual rules, so there will be regional interpretations.

Let the games begin! I am the first victor, although my gloating is short lived as the Captain quickly catches the fever and trounces me repeatedly. Sigh. We have created a monster and its name is "Gin". Luckily for us, friends Denise and Bernie soon arrive in George Town to divert us from our 52 card mania.

George Town, Great Exuma Island, is THE boater's mecca in the Bahamas. There are conservatively 250 boats anchored here in a huge, quiet bay. George Town proper sits on the western side of the bay and, to the east lie Monument Bay, Volleyball Beach and Sand Dollar Beach. A local "Cruiser's Net" is broadcast daily over the VHF radio system, alerting all to the scope of available activities. You just would not believe it! Volleyball Beach is home to (in no particular order) yoga classes, Bible study, bocce, garden club, beach golf, dominos, regatta committee meetings, horseshoes and of course, volleyball. These boaters are serious about their fun. Rockin' Ronnie and Cool Karen provide music for the weekly dances and the Kalik consumption is world class.

Announcements from cruisers are encouraged on the daily "net", and we have been offered online a bubbly, active sourdough starter, shared taxi rides to the airport, information on cruising to Cuba, a found single sandal, a spare hand held radio and "drive-by carry out." What is that? There is also the need for someone to repair a rip in a dodger, the loan of a circular saw and algae-free jerry cans for water. The list goes on and on. New arrivals are encouraged to announce themselves and departing vessels are bid adieu. George Town is small town America, alive and well, afloat in the Bahamas.

Our first full day with Denise and Bernie was spent at anchor a few miles south of Volleyball Beach. The winds were fierce, so we decided to rough it by spending an entire day reading, eating and, guess what? Playing cards! With four aboard, the game changed from Bahamian-style Gin to Exuma Hearts. None of us could recall the rules to this game either, so we improvised. Apparently my improvisational skills are not as highly developed as the others' because I am soon way ahead, or behind, depending on how you score. We had fun, though, and it was a relaxing way to drift through an afternoon.

The next morning, with Bernie at my usual post and wearing my crew com headset, we prepare to raise the anchor. The links of the rode are not responding well to being drawn in and they choose to twist and turn instead of meekly going back through the stripper arm and into the anchor locker. Something is amiss here. The screeching noise is but one clue. So, we do what we always do. We stop, ponder the situation, choose a course of action and solve the problem. In this case, the solution involves a vise, assorted wrenches, channel pliers and creativity. Once the errant arm is removed from the windlass, Bill and Bernie take turns beating it with a hammer until it regains its former, straight metal shape. A scant two hours later and we're back in business!

The winds are much calmer today, so Captain Bill, with Bernie as crew, and the newly straightened stripper arm, bring us back to the heart of George Town. We climbed aboard the Love Me Tender and motored in to explore Monument Bay. The monument in question was erected to celebrate the landing of Christopher Columbus (this guy, like George Washington, was everywhere!) and the short walk up the scrubby hill provided a 360 degree view of the Atlantic, Stocking Island, the bay chock full of sailboats, and Great Exuma Island. Wow! We scooted down the sandy path on the other side of the hill to the ocean and had a wonderful walk on the deserted, oceanside beach. This perfect day ended with another round of Exuma Hearts, some great music and, yes, even a little dancing!

But the piece de resistance of this tiny island community is undoubtedly the "Chat and Chill". This cottage on stilts is decorated with used, autographed T'shirts from all over the world, business cards stapled to the walls, graffiti on every flat surface and a very accommodating bar tender named Kendall. We tried our hands at dominoes, but again, rules eluded us so we ended up building tiny castles of tiles as high as possible until they tumbled down onto the scarred table top.

Our wonderful visit with the Mansheims came to an end and the 'last chance' scores in Exuma Hearts were 56, 105, 98 and 87. I'm not going to tell who was the victor at sea! What happens on Let's Dance, etc., etc. We are all winners aboard this fine ship.......

Let's Dance.....Carol and Bill

The Deep

On Tuesday, January 24, 2012, at exactly 0907 hours, Carol and the Captain officially went over the edge. You may believe that this happened some years ago, but no. This is how it went:

The route from Florida to Cat Cay took us across the Straits of Florida, a 60 mile ride through the Gulf stream in water that ranged from 150 to over 900 feet deep. Let's Dance flew over the ocean, scaring up the occasional fleet of flying fish along the way and playing tag with a few dolphin friends, too. Bill put out the fishing lines and soon the 'zing' cry of "fish on" rang out! Several hours later, with Cat Cay in sight, and much shallower waters ahead, it was time to bring in the lines. Final score: Captain Bill - 0; Fish - 2! Lures, that is.

Cat Cay is "private" and mariners are cautioned to avoid anchoring at the end of the little runway that dissects the island. Smart! One plane did, in fact, land while we floated nearby. This tiny dot in the ocean lies just south of Bimini at the western edge of the Great Bahama Bank. The ocean here can only boast depths of 10 to about 30 feet -- a far cry from what we just crossed. A real plus for us to this shallow water is that tankers, cargo ships and especially cruise ships draw too much water to get in our way. The 60 mile passage east across the Bank was very, very quiet. We were en route for 7 hours before encountering even one other boat, and it was over 4 miles off our port side. Talk about a lonely planet! 

 

Our anchorage that night, in 20 feet of water, was beyond amazing -- just us and the stars. I know the dippers and Orion's belt, but that's about the extent of my astrological acumen. Even with no savvy at all, however, the clear night sky, 60 miles from the nearest manmade light, was beyond breath-taking. Our lonely anchor light must have looked pretty insignificant in the vastness of the ocean around us.

The next leg of the journey, south and east to Andros Island, took us into the Northwest Channel. Let's Dance boasts two depth finders, or transducers, that measure the "DBK" or depth below the keel, a number of great significance in these shallow Bahamian waters. We left our solitary anchorage, noting that we still had 14 feet DBK. Then, suddenly, within minutes, there was no depth reading -- at all. On any of the three dials that reliably report this data. Just dotted lines where once there were numbers. We have, it seems, fallen off the edge of the world, and into the "Tongue of the Ocean."

The trusty depth finders bounced from simple dotted lines signifying nothing to readings around 2,612 feet, back to nothing then to 3,346 feet and so on for hours. The "Tongue of the Ocean" is a deep, deep trough that runs between Andros Island to the west and the Exumas to the east. At it's deepest, it measures over 8,400 feet below the sea's surface. Nothing down there for the transducers to bounce off. Submarines and other US Navy vessels use the area to practice their moves -- we looked and looked and looked for signs of rising submarines to no avail. They must have spotted us from the watery depths below and stayed down -- guess we wowed them with our dance moves!

By the time we arrived in the Exumas, it had been about ten days since I last had land underfoot and I was itchy to stretch my legs. Bill went ashore in the Love Me Tender at Morgan's Bluff, Andros, to clear us through customs. Only the captain is allowed to leave the ship for this process. He shared a few Kalik's with the locals at Willie's Bar while waiting for the customs rep to drive over from the airport. Very efficient system, Bahamas! One stop beer and national security.

Safely across the "Tongue", we anchored off Norman's Cay, a familiar stop from last winter. Tender launched, we motored up to the beach, anticipating a long walk and a tasty lunch. As we got closer to shore, I moved to the front of the Love Me Tender, prepared to step into the water and hold her steady until Bill could raise the motor and get out to tie her up to a nearby tree. So, I perch on the bow, watching the water get more and more shallow -- I can see individual grains of sand and tiny bits of coral quite clearly. I wait and wait and then put my feet over the bow and into the cool water. We are just about two feet from the shore. Instead of asking Bill for a DBK reading, I use my own judgment. There appears to be about 8 inches of water, so I begin to slide over only to find no purchase below! There is no stopping my downward momentum now, however, and I am immediately up to my waist in salt water! It's cold! And I'm soaked and there is no option but to walk the short distance to McDuff's, the restaurant, wet from the waist down, ask for a table and air dry. Luckily for me, this is the kind of dive where no one would notice, or comment on, one's state of deshabillement.

After a mediocre lunch of burger and fries (not found on the menu of Let's Dance), we walked across the airstrip to the other side of the island where a failed landing attempt in the drug smuggling days of the 70's left a rather large airplane in the middle of the bay. Not a pretty sight. With my shorts now dry, we ambled back to the Love Me Tender to find her high and dry as well. The tide has receded, and she is hard aground! We can't lift her so the only option is to wait for the tide to return enough to get her afloat. 

 

This day, and every day, there are lessons to be learned and laughter to be shared.

Let's Dance.....Carol and Bill

Mr. & Mrs. Smith

Key West was all decked out in her nautical finest for the annual Race Week Regatta when we arrived there last Friday. Boats of all different classes, accompanied by sailors of all different nationalities and tongues, clogged the downtown marinas. We docked at the aging Oceanside Marina on adjacent Stock Island as all the slots in Key West were filled early by the international sailing crews.

Cousins Jim and Sandra Smith arrived Sunday afternoon, came aboard, stowed their gear, listened to the safety spiel and were ready for the adventure. Weather reports for the next two days were for moderately high winds and 4 to 5 foot seas -- an uncomfortable combination for any mariner. We did the smart thing and postponed our little cruise in favor of shore excursions til the weather gods smiled again. That night we drove into the thick of the mischief that is Key West and took a stroll through the neighborhood. We saw it all -- cats and fiery hoops, musicians and artists, roosters and dogs, the ridiculous and the sublime. For dinner, the Smiths chose the upscale Bagatelle Restaurant to treat us as it was our 29th anniversary. Imagine that! DInner was delish, with seafood for all, but the waiter -- oh, my! Clifford apparently took a shine to us and between serving courses would drop by to tell a joke. As the dinner progressed the jokes became more and more risqué, until, as they say, the sailors blushed. Shame on you, Clifford!

The next day the four of us did the tourist thing well and were glad that we did. We admired the gardens of West Martello Tower - an old fort built for use during the civil war but never operational that now houses a garden filled with a broad collection of native plants. Hemingway House was next and we had a very entertaining guide -- we were told not to sit on the cats, of which there are currently 47! Time to re-read all those fabulous novels, too. I've got Islands in the Stream on my Kindle right now, in fact.

Next, a super long walk in search of the perfect off-the-beaten-track spot for lunch that turned out to only be open for dinner, then the Mel Fisher Museum. Mel was a man with a dream! Twenty years of searching for the treasure mother lode left by the Spanish ship Atocha that went down in the Florida Straits in the 1500's. Mel and his crew persevered, brought up small amounts of gold and silver artifacts for years and then, at last, hit it big. The museum tells the story well and the vastness of the riches reclaimed from the sea is astounding.

Calmer winds showcased a beautiful sunrise the next morning and we prepared to set our course south towards the Marquesas. Jim showed great promise and enthusiasm for the boating life and he quickly became the newest Seaman First Class. As cocks'n of the Dartmouth crew in his day, he was most likely more accustomed to giving rather than receiving orders, but he and Captain Bill developed a nice routine and I soon became another redundancy on Let's Dance. Oh well! Girl Time. Yeah!

Four hours after leaving Key West we arrived at the tiny island of Boca Grande. Bill and Jim worked well together on the anchor drill and looked great in the headsets to boot!

We launched the Love Me Tender, (again, my role usurped by Jim), donned our water shoes and life jackets and headed to shore for some exploration. The beach was narrow and did not provide much in the way of shells, but it was a fun little outing. DInner back aboard, another red-hued sunset, another perfect day complete.

We had a wonderful time with the Smiths and all agreed that cousins are the best! We did a quick bump and run back at the Oceanside Marina dock where they had left their car then got back underway for the next leg of our winter sojourn. Our route took us back north to Rodriquez Key (scene of the freak wind action) and then to Angel Fish Creek, just at the northern tip of Key Largo. From there we made the 57 mile crossing to Cat Cay in the near Bahamas. Our third crossing in Let's Dance was as well planned and executed as the previous two. Captain Bill even had the arrival music cued up! We entered Bahamian waters to the tune of "Don't Worry, Be Happy!"

Everybody dance!!

Let's Dance.....Carol and Bill

Anchors Aweigh!

Our plan, upon leaving Palm Beach Gardens and the rigors of boat maintenance, was to travel south for two days and then stop a day to catch up with our onboard chores.  The approach of storms predicted for day three played an important part in this schedule. So, night one of the 2012 adventure was spent anchored off Belle Island in Miami. This is the same spot where last winter we first learned to navigate around floating city blocks called cruise ships. This year was a tad easier as we arrived on a Monday and only one of the behemoths was headed out at the time of our arrival. Night two we anchored in a new spot for us called Rodriquez Key, about 56 miles south of Miami. This day trip would take less than one hour in your car, but we savored it for nine leisurely hours in our trusty trawler.

We anchored off Rodriquez Key, adjacent to Key Largo, in our usual militarily efficient fashion at 1620 hours and settled in for dinner and a movie. (Just like Bogey and Bacall?) The night was uneventful and the next morning's sunrise exquisite. Captain Bill had a laundry list of chores and he was anxious to get the outdoor ones accomplished before the promised storms arrived.
He snuggled into the new camo wetsuit, donned flippers, mask, hookah and cleaning tools and jumped into the 73 degree water. Yikes! He quickly scrubbed the few encrusted barnacles from the hull and climbed back aboard.

We enjoyed a leisurely lunch and began tracking the approaching storms on our iPhones. Only two sailboats shared our large anchorage and we watched them begin to bob jerkily as the winds picked up. Rain is now falling in a light but steady fashion. Soon the anemometer spiked to 35 knots and Let's Dance strained a little as the wind pushed increasingly larger and larger waves towards us and the shore. About now a third sailboat enters the area as the winds swirl. We watch the drenched sailor as he lowers his anchor into the froth. Naturally we feel quite confident in our own abilities and are only concerned that his anchor is securely set. He is about 250 yards in front of us and both winds and waves would surely push him into our bow if he broke loose. Vigilant always, Captain Bill measures the distance from us to the new arrival and to the closest of the other sailboats. 250 and 280 yards respectively, as measured by the golf range finder we keep on board.

The "Drag Queen" too is set to sound the alarm should we move more than 180 feet from where we laid our anchor the day before. We stay in the pilothouse monitoring the scene as the waves continue to grow and the winds increase. We now measure gusts of almost 50 knots and this is about as dramatic a wind event as we have ever encountered. Both hurricanes that we experienced in Maine boasted winds of just under 50 knots. So, now it gets interesting!

Luckily for us, it is still daylight, and we can keep both neighboring sailboats in view to make certain they stay securely anchored and cause no harm to themselves or us. The waves are now about three feet high and only a few seconds apart so there is some serious rocking and rolling going on, even by Let's Dance's standards. Eyes still on the wind gauge, we are amazed to see it jump to 55 and then 60 knots. Wow! The storm wasn't advertised to be like this! We continue to be buffeted by the waves, and the winds are running a steady 50 to 55 knots when we get a sudden leap to 60 and then to 65 knots. This feels more like a tropical storm than a rain storm and we are happy to have been prepared and tucked in early.

Then, as the wind speeds begin to drop slowly, the rain fades to a light drizzle and the wave spray diminishes, Bill suddenly says to me, "Didn't we used to be a lot closer to that sailboat with the blue hull?" We look, we frown, we measure. We measure the distance to the other sailboat again, too. Something is amiss. The worrisome sailboats now register 450 and 480 yards in front of us. Oops!
So intent were we on making sure that a hastily anchored sailboat didn't break loose
and crash into us that we failed to notice that our own anchor had begun to drag as the impressive winds and waves shoved us backwards. Where was the "Drag Queen" when we needed her? Perhaps already in Key West? Obviously we need to work with her some more. The Captain hastily put on rain jacket and hat and, with our two-way radios in place, we easily re-anchored Let's Dance in a new position slightly closer to shore and slightly further away from the sailors.

We have learned, over the past 20 months of trawler travel, that the lessons and the challenges never end. We were very, very lucky that no boats were directly behind us and that there was never any danger to us, Let's Dance or to any other mariners in our vicinity. That being said, hear what the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration reported the day after our unfortunate anchoring malfunction:

"A rare weather phenomenon known as a wake low pressure system created strong
winds throughout the Florida Keys during the late afternoon and evening hours. The
strongest winds along the island chain were reported in the upper keys, near Rodriquez Key."

And so it goes.....the remainder of the route to Key West was clear and calm with light winds and sunny skies. We arrived in Key West the day before cousins Jim and Sandra and readied Let's Dance for company. With four aboard there will surely be some partying going on in the southern latitudes.

Let's Dance.......Carol and Bill

Boys & Their Toys

Happy NewYear from the salon of Let's Dance! 2012 is well underway for Captain and crew of this good ship....only two weeks in and we are already half way to Key West down the Florida coast.

Back in December, Bill and great pal Rick manned the two day/two night journey from Savannah to Palm Beach Gardens where our sturdy trawler was subjected, once again, to the attentions of legions of mechanics, electricians, fiberglass buffers, hull cleaners and other assorted nautical personnel. Old systems were inspected and updated. Corrections and additions were made where necessary. New systems were installed. There is no such thing as too much redundancy on a boat. The generator, often given to fits of pique, was coddled and tinkered with until she finally agreed to do her part again for this voyage. She will receive some much-needed tweaking in the spring.

We have some new monitoring devices, too. We are now the proud employers of a "Boat Nanny." This amazing little device monitors the activity, or inactivity, of electrical connections, motion on the boat, smoke, high temperatures and, significantly, the level of water in the bilge. Too much of that can cause drowning in boats, we hear. Nanny will be especially important when we are not aboard as she has the ability to phone home to alert us to adverse situations. She also, we've already learned, likes to call in at 1:30 in the morning just to see if we're up.

There are new toys on board as well. Bill has a sexy new wetsuit that is designed to camouflage him as he descends into the briny deep to enjoy colorful tropical fishes and reefs or to clean the keel of kelp. True! It is supposed to make him blend into the sandy sea bed if sharks or other predators come too close. The bright yellow hose of the hookah regulator might give him away though.

A new friend on Daufuskie, Mark, spent many hours with Bill last fall sharing a lifetime of knowledge about offshore fishing techniques and strategies. He gifted us with lures that assure us of catches in the 100 pound plus range, and the davit has been reconfigured to drag the unfortunate monsters aboard the boat until we can catch our breath and filet them. Let them eat fish!! To utilize the new lures, we now sport a pair of custom made stand-up rods with Penn International 50 reels. (Easy for me to say!) They have yet to be deployed, but a small black fin tuna was caught this morning on old gear. It's always a thrill to hear the "fish on!" shout from the cockpit.

We have not stinted Let's Dance electronically either. There is a computer program that we particularly like and use frequently called "Active Captain." This is an interactive program designed by a New England mariner in which individuals can enter their thoughts and comments on particular marinas, anchorages, etc., a la Wikipedia. The designer of this software has come out with another inventive program that we are currently test-driving. It's purpose is to monitor the distance that the boat moves after it is anchored so that you can tell if your anchor is holding or if it is loose and dragging along the sea floor. The name of this clever little app is, appropriately, "Drag Queen." You've got to love his sense of whimsey. So far the Queen has done well by Let's Dance, but stay tuned for the next chapter wherein our anchoring skills are tested by 65 knot winds.

The trip is going well and we've put in several 60 to 70 mile days to arrive in Key West in time to meet Bill's cousin Jim and his wife, Sandra. They will spend several days with us cruising the area, sightseeing in both Let's Dance and the Love Me Tender. We look forward to the company!

That's all for now from Boot Key, Florida.
Latitude 24 41.62 N Latitude 81 07.13 W

Let's Dance.......Carol and Bill