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!