On Sunday, Feb. 17, we left Clark’s Court Marina on the south coast of Grenada just as the sun set, merely committing to an attempt of a night crossing to Trinidad, agreed that we would turn around if conditions were too rough. The wind was fairly steady at around 20 knots, and the seas were not as high as we expected, so, despite the fact that none of us felt particularly well in the chop, we radioed back that we were going to commit. I was the one down below making the radio call, and I stayed down a bit too long. Grabbing the Dramamine, I clambered up the companionway and told the kids to get out of my way quickly as I made my way to the lee side just in time. No one felt well, but I was the only one to lose my dinner.

We soon realized that we were going to reach Trinidad well before daylight as we sliced through the waves at 8 to 8 ½ knots with a reef in the main and the staysail up. The gibbous moon illuminated the surface of the sea, as did the enormous oil platforms we passed as we went further south. The kids slept on the bench seat cushions and I slept on the cockpit floor as Peter took the first watch under conditions which, had it not been our first real sail of the season, would have seemed great. My watch began at 1 a.m. and by 2:00, the lights of Trinidad could be seen, and by 3:00, the outlines of the mountains rose above the horizon. Peter woke up and decided to heave-to until daylight. We drifted slowly north, and at 6:00, I was the first up; we got under way again. I slept some more as Matthew helped Peter. The winds had moderated, so Peter lowered the staysail and put up the genoa to maintain speed.

The Mouth of the Dragon, the entrance to the Gulf of Paria, sounds frightening, but conditions were smooth in the Boca de Monos and we breezed through and went into Chaguaramas to clear customs and immigration. We decided it would be better to be on a dock in order for Peter to get mechanics on board, so we took a slip at the Crew’s Inn Marina. We had expected Chaguaramas to be truly ugly because it is known for its boatyards, not its ambiance, but the marina seemed to be situated in a nice, attractive place.

We spent two days there, and Peter was able to get some things accomplished, and we arranged to go back and rent a car for the weekend so we can explore the island by land.

Wednesday afternoon, Feb. 20, we left the dock and motored the short distance around the headland to Scotland Bay off Boca de Monos in order to have darkness for observing the total eclipse of the moon. This was a lovely, flat anchorage, surrounded by jungle inhabited by howler monkeys and many birds, including large parrots which flashed their bright chartreuse plumage as they winged in to roost in the trees by the shore for the night. Conditions were perfect for observing the lunar eclipse as we watched the bright white disk pale to dull burnt orange as the curvature of the earth crept across the orb. The greatest eclipse was after 11 p.m., so we stayed up quite late. Cruisers are usually asleep around 9 p.m., living more by sunrise and sunset than the clock.

We stayed for two days at Scotland Bay, which was the sight of a rest and recreation facility for US troops during WWII. There are no traces other than a few concrete piers and steps along the shore. Neglect allowed the jungle to consume the buildings and roads. The locals use the pebbly beaches for camping, fishing and relaxing—and they seem to leave all their trash behind. It doesn’t seem to bother them to be surrounded by their own and former visitors’ discarded bottles, bags and debris. It would be truly scenic without the refuse.

We returned to Crew’s Inn Marina on Friday, Feb. 22, in the late afternoon. There was one girl, around 8 or 9, who our kids had met at the marina, and she came over to watch a DVD. Our plans for the weekend were to go to the capital, Port of Spain, and shop for provisions on Saturday and explore the natural areas of the island on Sunday. Because rental car companies close at noon on Saturday and are not open at all on Sunday, we had to rent a car for two days even though we planned to take the bus to town on Saturday. We (particularly me) were frustrated and wasted most of the morning getting a rental car since the woman at the agency by the marina was foolish enough to lock herself out of her office (after Peter had already waited in line behind other customers for nearly an hour). We had to walk to another marina to find and negotiate for a car.

Since we had the car, we drove to Port of Spain, about ½ hour drive to the east. Traffic is described as horrendous during the week, but the roads were not crowded on Saturday. Neither was downtown Port of Spain; in fact, it was rather deserted and visually unimpressive. We went in the Red House, the building housing the parliament. It had a large enclosed courtyard with no artistic flair. There are no embellishments, color, murals, statues or paintings revealing anything at all about Trinidad and Tobago’s history, traditions or culture. We walked along Frederick Street, described in the guide books as a vibrant shopping area. The bland storefronts displayed inexpensive (should I say cheap?) merchandise in the manner of old general stores. A few people were out, but it was quite quiet. We made it to the historical museum, which was low-key but had informative and interesting exhibits on the geology of the area, including the oil and gas reserves; the political and social history of the country, including depictions of the grandeur of the colonial lifestyle for those in the upper classes; and the history of the music of Trinidad, including the development of the pan drums. The kids found most fascinating the displays of actual costumes and the photographs of elaborate, colorful costumes from Carnival.

By this time, we were quite hungry, and the friendly guard at the museum recommended the only place nearby actually open, T.G.I. Friday’s! Most people come out in the evening, he said, and that was when restaurants were open, but we were advised to avoid the city after dark.

After a good lunch and a rest, we were revived after our walking and standing around in the museum, and we headed for the zoo. It was actually larger than we expected, but most of the animals were kept in cages that zoos in the U.S. would consider entirely too small. There were agoutis, a caiman, tropical birds, peccaries, snakes and lizards as well as cats, which were of the most interest to the kids. Peter and I were most interested in seeing the animals which are native to Trinidad and South America. The kids were most attracted to the cats, even though the ocelot was the only once native to this area of the world. The African lions and Siberian tiger were the big draw for them. The zoo is surrounded by the botanical gardens, which appeared to be well-designed and well-maintained, but we didn’t have time to stroll along the paths.

We drove back toward the waterfront and the main highway south along Charlotte Street. Now this street was hopping! We drove slowly through; pedestrians were out in throngs. The shops were open and in front of these, both sides of the narrow street were lined with the stalls of vendors of fruits and vegetables. We felt safe in the car but would have felt overwhelmed and afraid of robbery had we been walking. The produce looked enticing, however, and the traffic was moving slowly enough that we could stop and buy tomatoes, portugals (a local citrus fruit like tangerines), and bananas through the car window.

We stopped at a large supermarket at a modern mall on the way back to the marina to get provisions. (Yes, they had milk!) Saturday evening must be the prime grocery shopping time, because the only time I have seen longer lines for checking out was when everyone was preparing for a blizzard at Tahoe.

The next day, Sunday, February 24, we visited two of the island’s best natural environments, both of which are protected. The Asa Wright Nature Center is in the mountainous rain forest in the north-central part of Trinidad, reached by highway to Arima and then winding roads up into the jungle. A fine rain fell as we ascended, but luckily for us, since we had forgotten to bring rain jackets, it stopped as we parked. (Going to the rainforest and we forgot to bring raingear—what were we thinking? Or, rather, what was I thinking, since it seems to be my responsibility to remember such things for the whole family!) The main building of the world-famous bird-watching center is a lovely old, sprawling house with a spacious verandah overlooking the rainforest, with bird feeders placed at the next level down to attract the birds for close viewing. Katya was particularly entranced by the brightly-colored specimens of tropical species. All the colors of the spectrum seemed to be represented. My favorite was a quite large bird with the apt common name of yellow-tail. A member of the oriole family, its body is covered with glossy dark plumage, but the long tail is vibrant yellow. It has beady blue eyes. In the highest branches of large trees, these birds build pendulous nests with openings near the top through which they enter. We stayed for a couple hours observing the lush surroundings and birds and enjoyed a delicious lunch in the library.

At 4 p.m., we, along with many other tourists and local people, boarded large pirogues on the Caroni River for a 2 ½ hour exploration of the Caroni Swamp. Our guide was quite good, pointing out a snake coiled in branches above our heads at one point and an armadillo curled up in the crook of a tree at another. I spotted another snake in a tree before the guide! The highlight of the meandering trip through the canals of the swamp was bird-watching. The boats all stop to wait for the flamboyantly colored scarlet ibis, the endangered national bird, along with the white egret, to return to roost on trees on small islands at sunset. First came flocks of herons, which seemed to decorate the green foliage like bright white flowers as they settled in for the night. Suddenly, a dozen or more flashes of red emerged from afar and the first scarlet ibises to be spotted flew to the same place, circling and alighting on the branches. Everyone reacted with “oohs” and “aahs” as if it was the beginning of a fireworks display. Wave after wave of white wings and red wings—never together--caught the last rays of daylight as the egrets and ibises returned to their homes after foraging in the mangroves all day for food. It was a lovely sight.

The next day, we got organized to leave Trinidad, clearing customs and using up the rest of our T&T currency at the marina’s grocery store. Later than scheduled (but not surprisingly for the Caribbean), the radar guy showed up around noon and actually succeeded in fixing the radar with a part from an old radar found at his shop. Of course, we won’t be using the radar as we leave Trinidad and cruise in the waters of Venezuela because we have been told that the pirates (yes, there really are pirates) use passive radar to pick up boats’ signals to find them for attack. This is the first time in over two years that we have trepidation about the places we plan to visit, and I was anxious all day as we prepared to leave Trinidad.

As the sun set on Monday, February 25, we sailed out of Chaguaramas Bay and then headed north for some distance away from the Venezuelan coast, although the direct path to our next destination, the islands of Los Testigos, would have taken us close to shore. We now find we have to add security and crime prevention to the factors of wind and waves and current in setting and steering our course. The trip was uneventful, however, and, with Peter covering most of the night watch as usual, we arrived and anchored on the lee of Isla Testigo Grande at 0930. For the first time this year, we were in crystal clear, turquoise water. What a delight! There were only two other small sailing yachts anchored with a stern line to shore; the rest of the yachties were in the more rolling anchorage a bit farther north off the beach of the tiny town. However, after a couple hours, small fishing boats started to arrive, and we realized that we had usurped their space! However, the men on the half dozen boats did not seem to mind and were quite friendly to us, despite the lack of a common language.

The island has a large sand dune which sweeps up from the windward east side and tapers down over the lee of the main hill. We took our dinghy to the lee shore and slipped and slid, with the sand falling away beneath our feet, up the steep western slope to the top of the hill. The view to the east opened up below us, a vast triangle of sand cascading down to the breakers. Smaller islands dotted the horizon. With ease, we made our way to the sea, where Matthew and Peter frolicked in the waves while Katya and I walked the length of the beach and back.

The next day, our little adventure was to the quiet, small fishing village, a simple row of buildings behind the palms of the white sand beach, open to the air. It was siesta time, and the hammocks hung low and swayed in the breeze. A generator provides all the electricity for the town. There are no cars, although pirogues are ubiquitous. Life is obviously much slower and more simple here than in our world.

Peter decided to ask the pescadores on the boat near ours for a fish to buy. I wrote down some questions and phrases for them to use; Matthew’s pronunciation is better than mine, but he was nervous about actually trying to converse in Spanish. Apparently, oral language failed, but the men and boys were charmed by the blond-haired, fair-skinned boy’s attempts and invited Peter and Matthew on board. They learned that the fishermen go out for about 10 days, working and sleeping on the decks the whole time. The fish are stored in a tank in the center which opens up on the bottom to the sea. Since we had not been to an official port of clearance yet and had not exchanged dollars for bolivars, we had no Venezuelan currency. Peter tried to give them American dollars for a fish, but they insisted on making a gift of the large snapper they offered. Later, Peter took them a gift of rum, which they appreciated and apparently shared with all the fishing boats anchored there for the night.

We were happy to be among them, not only because they were friendly but because we felt safer. However, we began our habit of battening down all the hatches and locking up the dinghy and its engine each night. We put an alarm, an unused item on this boat until now, at the top of the locked companionway. Each night, the horn is by my side of the bed and Peter has a flare gun (with the intent to use it as a weapon if necessary, not as a distress signal). Despite this, my fears of robbers surfaced in my dreams. The first night, I dreamed that I was trying to fight off a robber on board, and I woke up Peter with a violent kick to his shin (after which he woke me up). The next night, I was dreaming I heard footsteps on deck above us and was shaking Peter to wake him up because I couldn’t get my voice to work—until he woke me up. It appears that the greatest threat Peter faces is me in my sleep!

On Thurday, February 28, around 1100 we started to weigh anchor. We had discovered that the chain had wrapped itself around a log on the bottom 22 feet below, so we 45 minutes maneuvering forward and back, to port and to starboard, to disentangle ourselves. By the time we actually got out of the anchorage, we had to reassess our decision to head for Porlamar on Isla Margarita that day and decided it was too late to reach before dark. We turned around and returned to our lovely, cozy anchorage for another night.

The next day, Friday, we pulled up anchor around 0900 and headed out to sea with the wind from the east at 30 knots. How courageous we have become over the last two years! This would have scared me beyond belief before. With that wind, we should have made it to Porlamar in four or five hours. However, the wind abated and shifted, and we had to make several tacks, increasing the distance and time. We knew that Porlamar is not considered a comfortable anchorage, and we realized that we would not get there before the customs and immigration offices closed for the weekend. We changed course, and headed for the north side of Isla Margarita to anchor in the bay off the town of Juangriego for the weekend, unable to go to shore without customs clearance. (We were later told that no one would have checked or cared.)

On Sunday morning, March 2, at 0900, we pulled up anchor and motorsailed upwind to get to the southeast side of the island and Porlamar. Peter was at the wheel and I was reading in the forward cockpit when the poor old mainsail split below the second reef point in a moderate gust. Down it came and we raised the staysail. Later the genoa went up for more speed as we headed south. We realized that there is no choice but to get a new main, so after some debate and correspondence with former owners and Tony, the owner of Maya, a Sundeer, Peter has ordered one to be made in Barbados by Doyle to be shipped to us whenever, wherever we may be where it can be delivered.

Porlamar is an open anchorage with small swells, but it is a nice place. There were about 60 boats there, on the eastern end of the bay. As advised by a French couple on the adjacent yacht at Los Testigos, we sought out Marina Juan, who handles all the paperwork for clearance for the yachties there. It seemed strange to me not to go directly to the customs and immigration offices ourselves, but turning all your documents over to an agent and having them do all the work for a fee is the way it is done here.

We had been told last year by people on another yacht who had spent a lot of time in Venezuela that provisions were readily available and cheap. In fact, everything is very inexpensive here, but the selection of fresh produce is not as good as it is in Grenada and Trinidad and milk cannot be bought anywhere at any price anymore. Hugo Chavez has set price limits on the sale of milk and eggs, supposedly so that poor people can afford to buy them. However, the regulated price is so far below the cost of production, let alone distribution, that the farmers won’t supply the retailers at a loss. Instead, they are shipping the milk out of the country or making milk-based products such as yogurt, the price of which is not regulated. So, there simply is no milk for sale. Eggs can be found being sold directly by the farmers on dusty corner lots in the barrios. Luckily, the bus that transported us to the major, modern shopping mall outside the town stopped on the way back to Marina Juan’s at one of these and we were able to get three dozen eggs for about $3.00.

This is the first place where I have ever been where we exchanged currency on the black market. The term conjures up images of clandestine meetings with nefarious characters in dark, dirty back alleys. In fact, the black market flourishes everywhere, including supermarkets, shops and restaurants. Once again, it is just how things are done here. The exchange rate for foreign currencies to bolivars is set by the government at ridiculously low levels which the banks must use. At the bank, the rate is about 2 ½ bolivars for each dollar. At the supermarket, we paid with a $100 bill and received change in bolivars at a rate of 4.7.

Luckily, there were other children in the anchorage. First, we met a German family who helped us figure out the system here in Venezuela, particularly in Porlamar, for getting food, diesel and water. They have a daughter, Mira, who spent every day with our kids, either on the beach or on our boat. The last day we were there, a French boat came in with two boys Matthew’s age and a younger girl. The five kids all watched a movie on our boat down below (we seem to be the magnet) while the two sets of parents enjoyed conversation and good bottle of wine from Provence on deck. They were just beginning their live-aboard odyssey; the wife, in particular, was interested in how we were coping. Unlike us, they have a couple young men aboard as crew—seven people on a much smaller boat. Compared with most sailing yachts, particularly mono-hulls, the space on our boat seems expansive and provokes envy at times.

We were concerned about staying in Margarita or on the surrounding smaller islands because of the high crime rate. However, we learned from an American couple (actually, Peter learned; he’s the one who is the social butterfly in the anchorages and marinas) who came into Porlamar the day before we planned to leave for Isla Tortuga, that a Russian megayacht was anchored on the western side of Le Coche and was supplying security for the anchorage, so it was perfectly safe. Based on this information, we hauled anchor and motored through the anchorage, waving good-bye to our German and French friends, and sailed there on Thursday, March 6, using only the two headsails and finding they worked quite well. We dropped anchor near the megayacht Solemar, south of Punta Playa, in front of a beautiful white sand beach bordered by four small resorts. This place is a premier kite-boarding spot, which is apparently why the Russian copper magnate had come. He had entirely booked one of the resorts for his friends who flew in to join him and supplied kite-boards, windsurfers and jet skis for them all to enjoy. The area was dotted with colorful sails throughout the day.

Matthew wanted to wind-surf, but we couldn’t convince the outfit that rented gear that he had enough experience and that Peter would provide sufficient supervision in the dinghy for it to be safe, even though there was an off-shore wind. Since that was not an option, he was pleased to accept the alternative for driving a jet-ski for a half-hour.
Peter took Katya out for a few minutes first, then Matthew took control with Peter riding behind him. They both had big smiles on their faces as they whizzed around. Since Le Coche is an up-scale resort, all prices are quoted in dollars or euros and are comparable to those in the U.S. and Europe (in other words, not cheap), so the jetskiing was limited by cost.

Peter had been thinking about giving kite-boarding a try, and it looked exhilarating to be flying above the azure water on the board. We had plans to move on to Tortuga and then Los Roques, perhaps catching up with the French boat with boys so that Matthew could trade more Yu-Gi-Oh! Cards, but I decided that Peter should take lessons for two days as his birthday present. The professionals on the beach were all booked for lessons by the Russians, but a Venezuelan on the yacht anchored ahead of us gave private lessons, so Peter signed up for lessons on Saturday and Sunday. He made a great deal of progress, but the learning curve is steep even for someone with a lot of experience wind-surfing and sailing.

Peter had heard that a local yacht who had taken a few Russians to the island to the west, Cubagua, had been robbed of a dinghy and two outboard engines that weekend. They had requested assistance in making pursuit from the local fisherman, but they understandably refused, stating that they knew the pirates had guns. I was particularly alert on watch that night as we sailed away from Le Coche for Isla La Tortuga. We were still in the “high alert” zone (according to the Venezuelan authorities) until we were well west of Isla Margarita. In fact, we have only heard of piracy on yachts at anchor so we were at less risk traveling. However, we were prepared with a loud distress horn, a one- million candlepower flashlight, and the boat hook to ward off approaching vessels. It certainly seemed strange to have to discuss what actions we would take “if.”

Night sailing is more work now that the auto-pilot, which had been erratic in its performance lately, stopped working all together. Peter has taken it apart and put it back together, but to no avail. So, the wheel must be handled at all times, meaning that the person not on watch has to sleep on deck since the person at the helm cannot make short trips below. It also means that the person on the helm is more isolated; when we can use the auto-pilot, we can sit in the forward cockpit. Even though the other people may be asleep, it feels less lonely.

Right after sunrise, we arrived at Isla La Tortuga on Monday, March 10, after a choppy passage and anchored Playa Caldera. It was a lovely spot, but there was a bit of a swell coming in, so we only stayed for a few hours, long enough for Peter and me to get a little bit of sleep. We went on to a little islet of the northwest coast of Tortuga called Cayo Herradura and found a true tropical paradise and immediately decided to stay through the next day. The curving white-sand beach curved around the anchorage, and there were only two other yachts there and a few fishermen at their camps on shore. The snorkeling on the windward side of the cay was quite good, and we explored the undersea world both days. The nice thing about having our kayak is that there is no need to go to the trouble of getting the dinghy off the foredeck and into the water and lowering the outboard from its aft mount and then reversing the process in the evening for security. (The last two seasons, in safer areas, we always towed the dinghy and left it in the water at night, tied to the stern.) The kayak can be dropped in the water in a minute and is perfect for exploring undeveloped areas.

Tuesday, March 11 was Peter’s birthday, and we couldn’t have found a more beautiful place to enjoy it. In the morning, we walked along the beach. On the southern spit, dozens of pelicans and various shore birds rested, only moving when approached. The fishing camps were at the northern end. At one, the men were quite busy mending nets, hauling them on board the boats and cleaning and preserving fish. An older man deftly cut large fish into equal-sized, large pie-shaped pieces. Another man rinsed them with buckets of salt water. A third arranged them in a spiraling, cylindrical pile, loading handfuls of rock salt on each layer. When finished, the older man completed the process by placing a stretched goat skin over the symmetrically arranged pieces of fish.

Each small fishing camp had a large wooden-planked, tin or wooden roofed building with three sides. Some of the roofs had large pieces of dead coral or rocks on top to hold them down. The fourth side was open to the west and the beach, keeping out the prevailing easterly winds. Most of the work was down outside or in smaller lean-to’s; the main structure was for sleeping in hammocks, eating, relaxing. Two of the camps also had separate little structures mounted on poles containing altars. The Virgin Mary was the predominate figure; there were also candles, shells, and various offerings from the sea. Near the lighthouse there was also a small cemetery, with the few graves covered by mounds of dead coral. There were no tombstones, only wooden crosses made of driftwood.

On our night sail on Tuesday to Los Roques, Peter managed to get “Otto” the auto-pilot to function again briefly. It worked for about two minutes on my watch. (It should be mentioned that my watches are significantly shorter and fewer than Peter’s. He can manage much better without sleep than I can.) Once again, the seas were confused, so it was not a pleasant experience. We entered the beautiful area known as Los Roques through the Boca Del Medio of the Bajo de la Cabecera and dropped anchor inside the reefs on Wednesday morning, March 12. It always seems strange to anchor using reefs and not land for protection. It seems quite exposed even though there is good protection from the waves and swells. The various shades of blue surrounding us amazed us, as usual. The beauty of the water never ceases to astonish us. The shallow reef areas and sandy bottoms reflect the sunlight in such a pure way that the bottoms of fluffy white cumulus clouds are tinged with green and the blue-green waters seem to glow.

Once again, we only spent a few hours resting at anchor and then we navigated through the reefs to Noronsquies, a set of three little islands with reefs which create a lovely, calm lagoon. Jus another tropical paradise! Two French yachts were anchored here and there were day-trippers from El Gran Roque on the small beach for a while. A young South American couple had been dropped off by a day trip boat and stayed to camp there for the night. We enjoyed talking with them. Their English was a bit better than our Spanish, so we managed to converse very well.

On route to this anchorage, with food supplies running drastically low, we decided to fish. Matthew was quite excited to snag a good-sized mackerel fairly quickly trolling with the Cuban hand line. By this time, we were down to not much more than spaghetti (but no sauce), ramen noodles and chicken noodle soup plus a few vegetables and eggs for sustenance. I ate peanut butter and jelly sandwiches while the others had fish.

The next morning (Thursday, March 13), Peter and I went snorkeling on the northern barrier reef. There were an amazing number of large (not to mention small) fish, including angelfish, butterfly fish, parrot fish, tangs, squirrel fish, jacks and wrasses. After a lunch of spaghetti (again!), we set sailed wing-and-wing with the two headsails for Cayo de Agua. We had trouble, as daylight was fading, finding our way among the coral reefs using our guide and sketch charts but finally managed to drop anchor (not in the recommended place, we realized the next day when the light was better) on the northern side of the island. The location was beautiful and there were no other boats in sight. Unfortunately, it was a bit rolly but not totally uncomfortable. It passed the refrigerator door test, barely. I have determined that an anchorage is too unsettled if the refrigerator door closes itself (or rather, slams itself shut) when left opened.

The next morning, we kayaked to the beach and explored the island, which was inhabited by the Amerindians and is stilled used by fishermen for its fresh water a few feet below the surface in some places. These places are easy to find because they are the few oases in the scrubby desert landscape where palms tower above the dune-created, rolling terrain. Although we were not truly desperate for food supplies, Peter attempted to procure some food by climbing a coconut palm. Agile and nimble as he is, his attempts were unsuccessful, as were alternative methods of beating at the fronds with long sticks and throwing rocks at the tops of the trees.

We left Los Roques after lunch for our next stop in the Venezuelan islands, Islas de Aves. We chose to stop at Isla Sur in the Aves de Barlovento (the windward chain of the islands of birds). What another delightful place! Alone again in an uninhabited, unspoiled paradise, we chose to stay for two days. The northern side (the side we were on) of the island is covered in mangroves and is home to thousands of birds, including boobies, frigate birds, pelicans, and herons. Many times over the next couple days we paddled to the mangroves to observe them. With no predators, they are curious and not afraid, not even the adults with chicks in their nests. They perched and nested quite close together.

The boobies, both white and gray ones, are the most numerous. They all have long, tapered blue beaks. Most have red webbed feet, although some have yellow. The white species (or gender?) have black feathers outlining the edges of their wings. All of them have white tail feathers which splay out in a fan shape in flight. They make large (18 to 24 inches in diameter), bowl-shaped nests out of the gray twigs and small branches of the mangroves. We only observed one chick per nest. These cute nestlings are covered in white downy feathers, making them look plump and cuddly.

The brown pelicans have the usual long beaks with hanging pouches and reddish-brown, spiky feathers like manes from the tops of their heads down the back of their long necks, looking similar to the brown hairs on the back of the necks of giraffes. The black and white frigate birds perch along side them. They and the herons are a bit more skittish when approached. Their long white tails sleekly taper to one point when they are resting; these tail feathers fork in flight, a beautiful sight as they soar and glide.

Of course, the water is teeming with fish. Peter, with some help from Matthew, used the rod and reel and the Cuban hand line in an attempt to catch some food to supplement our dwindling supplies. They got bites, but all the fish broke the line or got away.

Off the small headland protecting our anchorage to the east, a long reef extended. Our snorkeling expedition revealed some of the healthiest coral we have seen in the Caribbean and an abundance of colorful, beautiful fish. Visibility is wonderful and the water is about 80 degrees Fahrenheit, making it possible to swim indefinitely without getting cold.

On Sunday afternoon, March 16, I cooked the last 8 eggs, made egg salad and used the last of the bread to make sandwiches. As the sun was setting, we hauled up the anchor and negotiated through the reefs and shallow water to the open sea, en route to Curacao. Our direct course would have been dead down wind, so Peter plotted a route southeast and then northeast, allowing us to sail on a broad reach. Although we covered more distance, we made up for it in speed, averaging well over 7 knots with winds of 15 to 20 knots, with gusts in the high 20s. The seas were not as confused as they had been on previous night sails, so the trip was smoother. We maintained our unbalanced but usual 4 hour-2 hour watches, with me getting the most sleep and less time on watch.

We approached the entrance to Spanish Waters, a large well-protected lagoon on the southern part of the island, around 0730. On the chance that there would be a local “net,” we switched the VHF to 72 and luckily found one. The net facilitator and the other yachties were welcoming, and it was easy to settle into this cozy anchorage with about 100 other yachts. We learned that a bus left the dinghy dock for the supermarket at 9:00 and 10:00, and the kids and I caught the later one. We were transported in 10 minutes to a modern, well-stocked store. In less than an hour, we managed to procure over $400 worth of groceries, including many gallons of milk, lots of bread, an abundance of beautiful fresh fruits and vegetables and four dozen eggs. We found absolutely everything we were looking for, including Easter candy!

As we were waiting for the bus, a man who was also waiting asked me if we were the people on the Deerfoot Epicurus. He then asked us if we knew Bert, the first owner. Indeed, Peter has met him and corresponds with him sometimes about the boat and our travels. This Dutchman had spent some time traveling on his boat along with Epicurus and another boat about 20 years ago.

While the kids and I were at the market, Peter was zooming around in the dinghy getting acquainted with others in the anchorage, including Bob-- who had already provided with an abundance of information of customs, immigration, buses, and shopping—and an Australian boat with a 10-year-old girl on board. In the afternoon, she and her mother picked up our kids and Peter and went to shore to hike up to an old fort overlooking the sea. I took the rare opportunity of being alone to sleep and to prepare some school work in science for the kids.

Tuesday, March 18, Peter went into Willemstad to clear customs and immigrations and the kids and I stayed on board to do school work. Over the past two and half years, we have gotten better about keeping to the schedule and not getting behind. The three of us are all determined not to be doing school work this summer. Unlike regular school, which ends each year on a certain date, the Kat-Mat Academy does not finish until all the work is done.

On Wednesday, March 19, all four of us went into old Willemstad, a compact urban area with brightly painted, historic buildings. Part of the area is a UNESCO World Heritage Site, so it is well-preserved and the facades have been maintained or restored to reflect their original appearance. Near the bus depot is the floating market, where boats from Venezuela and other countries dock and sell produce and fish under bright red, yellow, blue and green awnings. One building in town has a series of bells on the outside which ring every hour, accompanying a parade of small statues representing various ethnic groups and classes of people important in the history of Curacao, emerging from the right and circling across to the left where they re-enter there hiding place. It reminded me of the famous glockenspiel in Munich.

Willemstad has the oldest synagogue building in continuous use in all the Americas. Synagogue Mikve Israel-Emanuel was created in 1732 by Seraphic Jews who had immigrated first to Holland from Spain and Portugal in the 1600s. Many of the names associated with the history of the synagogue and the congregation are Spanish or Portuguese as a result.

In the synagogue, the tabernacle is in the middle, surrounded by ten areas representing the tribes of Israel which escaped from Egypt to find the Promised Land. Soft white sand covers the floor of the synagogue. It represents the 40 years spent wandering the Sinai desert. Also, it is a reminder of the use of sand on floors for muffling sounds in secret rooms used for worshipping during the Inquisition. It also symbolizes the words in Genesis in which God said to Abraham: “I will multiply your seed as the sands of the seashore and the stars in the heavens.” Across the courtyard from the place of worship is a cultural and historical museum including many items used in worship as well as in Jewish homes.

After visiting the synagogue and museum, we found a tapas bar nearby which allowed us to escape a brief downpour and enjoy some delicious food at a table on the sidewalk. After that, we wandered along the short blocks pass upscale shops in the Punda, the side of the city on the east side of a waterway, Saint Anne’s Bay (Sint Ana Baai), which connects the Caribbean Sea on the south to Schottegat, a large bay which is the second largest Dutch port after Rotterdam. Two cruise ships were in port, so the streets were milling with tourists. There are two forts protecting either side of the entrance to Saint Anne’s Bay, but the walls are about all that are left and are used as edifices for hotels, restaurants and government offices, so there is not much insight into their former uses or appearances.

We took a free ferry to the other side of Saint Anne’s Bay, which is called, appropriately enough, Otrabanda (literally “the other side”). The ferry is only in use when the pontoon pedestrian bridge, the Queen Emma Bridge, swings open toward Otrabanda to let water traffic through. We visited the neighborhood just north of the bridge called Hulanda, a restored 18th-century village built around a typical Dutch colonial mercantile square where slaves were once sold. Developed and restored by a Dutch philanthropist, Jacob Gelt Dekker, the area is being used unobtrusively as hotels, restaurants and galleries. It also is home to a truly wonderful museum containing his personal collection of ancient and modern artifacts, including cuneiform tablets and pottery from Mesopotamia, weapons and jewelry from the bronze and iron ages, early glass bowls, and relics from West African empires including Ghana, Mali, the Songhai and the Dogons. There is a large and graphic exhibition of the slave trade which is less euphemistic than most portrayals of it found in literature and museums produced in the U.S. or even other Caribbean islands. One of the most profound aspects of the collection of the museum is how it is all woven together into a story of the development of civilization in the western world, from Mesopotamia to Africa, Europe and the Americas. We found it fascinating and stayed a few hours.

Dodging periodic showers, we made our way back to the bus depot. We were exhausted after a whole day on land!

On Thursday, March 20, I thoroughly cleaned the whole boat in preparation for the arrival of William and Henry Rudd (ages 16 and 14), who, I’m sure, couldn’t care whether the boat was tidy and clean or not. They are spending the first part of their spring break with us before flying home to Kenya. Peter went back into Willemstad to send off the autopilot via UPS for repair and then proceeded to the airport, where the boys were being questioned and held by Immigration since they did not have a letter from their parents authorizing them to travel alone. However, they did escape the clutches of bureaucracy, and Peter brought them to Epicurus around 1900 hours.

Friday, March 21, was Good Friday, so the buses were not running on any regular schedule or perhaps not at all, but Peter and the Rudd boys pieced together taxi and van rides to get to Willemstad to clear Customs and Immigration so that the six of us could leave on Saturday for Bonaire. After their return, they enjoyed kayaking and swimming in the bay where we are anchored.

On Saturday, March 22, we got up early and were ready to depart right after 0800. As usual, we listened to the cruisers’ net at 0730 and announced our departure to the local community. “My, you’re brave!” was the response. Foolish might have been a more accurate description, I thought, considering there was a small craft advisory in effect. The highest Atlantic swells on record in the last 40 years or so were marching south through the Caribbean. The wind was averaging around 20 knots from ESE and the wind waves alone were 6-8 feet with only a 5 second interval. We had to head SE to make it around the southern tip of Curacao, and the current flows at 1 to 2 knots to the north. So, it was a battle against the wind, waves and current. We attempted to put up the mainsail with a double reef since the most recent tear is below the cringles for a double reef, but we were seeing slits of blue sky along other seams taking strain and took her back down fairly quickly. After a couple hours of beating into the wind and waves against the current, during which the boys started looking a bit unwell, the electronic charts indicated that it would be well after midnight before we would reach Bonaire, and we were still in the lee of Curacao and hadn’t encountered the north swells yet. Of course, we couldn’t enter an unfamiliar area at night and try to locate a mooring ball, and, while a few hours of enduring such a trip could be managed, the thought of another 14 hours or more was daunting. So after a couple hours, we turned back and, averaging 8 knots as we glided along smoothly with following waves, we made it back to the cut into Spanish Waters in about half an hour.

Exhausted from our three-hour adventure, we went to Sari Fundy’s for lunch. After that the three boys took off in the kayak to explore the ruins of Fort Beekenburg on the hill over Caracas Bay and go snorkeling around the piers. Peter and Katya were done in by the supposedly non-drowsy Dramamine they had taken and couldn’t stay awake any longer, so they napped. (I took it also but was unaffected by it.) Around 4 p.m., I woke Peter up and we dinghied over to a small dock and walked across a spit of land to snorkel around some other piers and a sunken tug boat, after which we went up on the hill to see the fort also.

The Rudd boys enjoyed kayaking all around the bay and swimming, and Matthew was thrilled to have boys on board. Katya, as usual, was bored with life no matter what.

On Easter Sunday, the Easter Bunny made two appearances, bringing four baskets of candy before breakfast and then reappearing later, as my kids were reading in their rooms, hiding chocolates in the saloon and leaving incriminating wet footprints on the swim ladder and deck as well as a chocolate smudge on the counter.

Since the wind was still strong, we delayed leaving Spanish Waters until Monday, March 23. Although conditions were better that day, it was still rough. The seas were choppy and the wind was still high. I fell asleep in the foreward cockpit before we came around the south end of Curacao, so I missed the confused seas. William and Henry valiantly worked with Peter at the helm and on the sheets, although neither felt too well and Henry was sick overboard. Unfortunately, the anchorage off the leeward side of Klein Curacao was rolly. Our anchor dragged, so we decided to pick up a mooring ball. The balls did not have pennants, so I “volunteered” Henry, who is always ready to help, to swim to the mooring ball and catch a line from the bow. With the strong wind, we had to make several attempts. The Rudd boys, exhausted, fell asleep, after the adventure at sea. The Browns went ashore and enjoyed walking on the beach and making a temporary collection of hermit crabs. It was spaghetti again for dinner as I was not up to making anything requiring more work as we rolled from port to starboard.

Luckily We Like Grenada . . .

We are still in Grenada, although no longer in the boatyard at St. David's. The last item, a minor part for the generator, arrived on Thursday and was quickly installed. All that was left was settling up the bills, which Peter had to dispute a bit.

I had remembered to buy a card for Peter and get candy for the kids for Valentine's Day before we left the States, so we were able to recognize the holiday. We also had a delicious lunch at the Waterside Restaurant at Bel Air Plantation Resort, a very short dinghy ride from the boatyard. Peter and I also enjoyed taking the kayak out for the first time this season and exploring the adjacent bay.

We left the dock of Grenada Marine on Friday, Feb. 15, and anchored in the bay for the night. It continued to be windy, and swells were coming in, so our first night at anchor was a bit rocky and I did not sleep well. The anchorage did not pass the refrigerator door test: If the door slams closed on its own, the boat is rocking too much!!!

However, I woke up to yet another beautiful day here at 12 degrees latitude. We spent the morning bending on the headsail and the staysail and getting ready to sail and left the harbor just before noon. Outside the bay, the wind was pretty consistent at 20 knots and the waves were about 7 feet at 8-10 second intervals, so we went speeding off at 7 knots with just the mainsail. On our initial course, the waves were hitting us on the beam, rolling the boat from side to side. We were perfectly safe and not at all uncomfortable--except for poor Matthew, who does not like tipping or thrilling roller coaster rides on the waves. When we altered course, his mood altered also as we had following seas, and we made it to the entrance to Clark's Court Bay, a few miles west of St. David's on the southern coast of Grenada within an hour.

We decided to dock for the night at the marina, which is a lovely little place, because we needed to get a taxi to town to clear customs for departure and get groceries. We are very pleased that we chose to dock here, because getting things done in town was convenient, particulary since the customs office is at the yacht club and we were able to enjoy a great lunch there. (Most importantly, we were able to stock up on MILK!)

There is a nice, small group of yachties here at Clark's Court. The marina hosted a pot-luck dinner last night (Feb. 16). The kids, being the only young people here, chose to stay on board Epicurus and watch "Yu-Gi-Oh!" episodes on the internet and play games. Peter and I enjoyed chatting with people and then joined in the fun of karaoke singing and dancing. The yachting crowd is well-known for partying, and most cruising guides list happy-hours right up there with marine supplies as essential information for anchorages and ports. Although we sometimes need supplies for the boat, we haven't had any need for the listings and critiques of bars, and this was actually our first time to participate in drinking and socializing and partying at a bar. We had a very good time, as the crowd was lively but not rowdy, a variety of food for dinner was nice for a change from my adequate but not exciting meals, and the people were interesting and articulate.

The marina is also nicely situated by Mt. Hartmann National Park, a sanctuary for the endangered Grenada dove, and we took a leisurely hike earlier today on a trail the follows the headland toward a point opposite Hog Island. We are getting ready to leave for Trinidad around 6 p.m. this evening, making a night crossing. However, the wind has not abated and the seas look rough, so if it's really uncomfortable, we'll turn around and come back. Luckily, the entrance to this bay is well-marked and straight-forward, so it will be easy to re-enter if necessary.

Back in the Tropics

On Tuesday, January 29, we arrived in Grenada, where Epicurus had been left on the hard at Grenada Marine in St. David’s. We had made arrangements to rent an apartment for three days near St. David’s, so that we could inspect the work that had been done on the boat before putting her in the water. Even though we had made reservations for a 4-door SUV for a week, the car rental agency only had a small 2-door SUV, with enough room for a couple pieces of luggage. Luckily, the owner the apartment met us at the airport to guide us to the place, so he was able to put most of our luggage--8 checked bags and 4 daypacks--in his van, saving us multiple trips between the airport and the apartment to transport all of our stuff.

The apartment was up in the hills with a lovely view of the mountains and the sea. The owners, Lucille and Anthony, are wonderfully hospitable. The apartment we rented is on the lower level of their home, which is terraced down the mountainside, and the pool was adjacent to our terrace. We shared a Carib, the locally brewed beer, with them after we settled in; they treated us like their personal friends and guests rather than renters.

On Wednesday, we went to the boatyard where work which had been requested eight months ago was in progress but not finished. We had planned to launch her on Friday, but by early Thursday, it became clear that she would not be ready for us to move on board. We were very fortunate that we had a nice place to stay and were able to continue to occupy the apartment for a few more days. (Of course, all the delays cost us money as well as time, but there’s not much that can be done about it in the Caribbean, so there is no sense in getting stressed.)

When Peter was not at the boatyard making sure that work was getting done properly and in a somewhat timely manner and the rest of us were not busy with homeschooling, we explored the island in the car. The capital, St. George’s, is situated on the water, by a bay called the Carenage and there are many picturesque historical buildings. The streets rise up from the waterfront to hills topped with churches and the remains of French forts. On the other side of the main hill is the commercial center of town, bustling with pedestrians and small shops. There is an open-air market in the center. We went there to buy fruits and vegetables on Saturday but didn’t find much. We were told that we needed to be there before 7 a.m. to get the best selection! Even though there a few supermarkets in St. George’s and Grand Anse, the suburb to the south which attracts tourists with its beautiful beach, most natives still go to the open-air market for produce or buy it from stands along the road.

We also drove along the winding roads up into the mountains to see Annadale Falls, which is about 30 meters high. While we were there, a local guy jumped from the cliff at the top for contributions for photographs. We also saw a Mona monkey, a descendant of monkeys brought from Africa centuries ago. (He didn't expect any money but was on the look-out for human food.) About one-sixth of the island is preserved as national parks, the largest of which is Grand Etang (Big Pond). There is a very small visitors center near this body of water, which is in the caldera of an extinct volcano, but we have found that the natural and historic sites on the Caribbean Islands are not complemented with museums and signs explaining the geology, biology, history or cultural significance of the places in any detail, as they are in the States. There are no docents or rangers. The best stop we made, for me, was a spice and herb garden which offered guided tours. Walking through the garden on our own would have been pleasant, but the guide taught us a lot about the plants and their uses, so we came away not only with a nice memory of a pretty place but with a small bit of education.

Our guide books provide only limited information, so I am often left thinking that the sites are nice but I don’t feel like I have had any in-depth experience. Also, I have been spoiled by the grand scale of places such as Yosemite, Yellowstone, the Grand Canyon, Mammoth Caves, Rome, Paris, Washington, D.C. and the small scale attractions on the islands may be beautiful, but they are usually not awe-inspiring. (Sometime the open seas are, however!) For me, the best part of the islands is the life under the water, on the reefs. I never seem to tire of snorkeling and always find new things.

There are not many tourists here, so the areas have not been intensely developed to accommodate them, although this is beginning to happen, and tourism is beginning to replace agriculture as the main industry. On some days, cruise ships disgorge hundreds of tourists for a few hours of sight-seeing and shopping in St. George’s and tour bus trips to the waterfalls and the parks, but most seem not to venture beyond the first few blocks of the city. At Fort George, a woman from one of the ships didn’t see anyone else around and asked me if I thought it was safe to enter alone into the courtyard through the tunnel-like gate. We have actually found that it seems to be very safe here, and the people are unusually friendly and helpful. There is not the same work ethic in terms of meeting deadlines, working quickly and ensuring the job is done to perfection, but this is a cultural difference and not a moral issue. The people seem to be decent, good people.

We have gotten to know a few on a first-name basis here at the boat yard. They tell me about whether they have ever lived anywhere other than the island and about their children. Most have visited nearby islands such as Trinidad (which none of them like--it’s too big and dangerous there) and St. Vincent’s, but they have not been on a continent. Most are very patriotic about Grenada and say they wouldn’t want to live anywhere else. We can appreciate this.

Thursday, Feb. 7, was Independence Day, celebrating 34 years of autonomy from Great Britain. It is a big holiday. Almost everyone dresses, even the day before, in the bright national colors of green, red and yellow. On the Monday before, I asked one of the guys who works in the boatyard to confirm that Thursday was a holiday and that all the businesses would be closed. He said “Yes, and all day Wednesday, we be getting ready!” (Indeed, it was true; on Wednesday morning, Lucille brought down a plate full of delicious cakes that she had been busy preparing.) Yikes, I thought, because Wednesday was the day the boat was re-scheduled for launch and I was afraid that no work would really be done that day. Peter spent even more time at the yard, and on Wednesday afternoon, she was hoisted onto the lift. The boat that went in the water before us had unexpected engine problems and wouldn’t start, so we waited and waited until well after 5 p.m. We were somewhat surprised that the dock hands, riggers and others who needed to help just patiently waited, even though quitting time is 4 p.m. and it was the day before a big holiday. On the other hand, no one, including us, was surprised by a delay. Happens all the time here.

Sails, lines, and other miscellaneous parts, as well as the washer and dryer, which had to be moved to get into the engine, were all about down below, but we managed to move things around and begin to settle in. We slept really well that night, tired and rocked by the sea. By the end of Thursday, I had everything unpacked and stowed, and things were beginning to look ship-shape in our living space. (My friend Paula told me that she thinks that one of the reasons living on a boat appeals to me is that I hate clutter, and having things in their place and neat is a necessity when sailing.) Peter and I put up the dodger and biminis yesterday and stowed all the extra lines back in the forecastle, so it’s looking like home on deck and below now.

We are still here in Grenada, in the water but on the dock at the boatyard, because a break in the fuel line to the generator (broken by accident when some work was being done) was discovered, and the part that is needed has to be shipped in and won’t be here until Wednesday. Meanwhile, a very nice guy who used to live in Ft. Lauderdale (and therefore works more like an American than an islander) has been busy touching up paint. The riggers were on board Friday tuning the standing rigging. I stood on the aft deck and watched, occasionally cocking my head and squinting up the line of the mast as if assessing whether the mast was straight and the rake was proper. In reality, I had no idea what they were doing or if they were doing the work right, but I gave the impression of competence, and the boss came and discussed with me why the turnbuckles are seized and the compatibility of different alloys and metals. I nodded knowingly.

Meanwhile, Peter is busy, busy, busy, and wondering why he ever bought a boat. A few good hours of sailing on Epicurus, however, and I know he won’t care about all the headaches. She’s a fine boat, even if she is starting to show her age, and very sea-worthy and comfortable. Not everything works all the time, but we learn what we can live without. (Right now, we are living without radar, and I wish we weren’t!) Peter can fix almost everything. Once again, he repaired the washing machine the best he could. Every time the boat is not being used and left in the heat, the belts disintegrate and it’s virtually impossible to find replacement parts for a 22-year old Maytag. He made a new belt himself this time, so I’m living in luxury--you would think! The reality is that the washing machine agitates the clothes, but it does not spin, so I still have to wring out every piece of laundry by hand and rinse them in the sink before hanging them out on the lifelines to dry. The dryer has always worked perfectly, but we don’t really need it! It’s also a hassle for Peter to attach the vent tube each time; it connects up to the back of the dryer, in the engine room, behind various large things in there (I don’t really know what half the stuff is.) and I can’t reach.

We are adjusting our diet to life on the boat also. One thing I really miss while we are cruising in the Caribbean is fresh milk, which is not a staple for the islanders but is my main source of protein as a vegetarian--besides, I love it! I was pleasantly surprised when we went to the supermarket in Grand Anse the day after we arrived to get groceries. There was an abundance of milk! Grenada went up quite a few points in my book! At the beginning of last week, however, when we went to get more food, there was a gaping hole in the dairy section and no milk anywhere! We figured out we had just been lucky the first time to have shopped the day after the boat with food supplies had come in. We were told that there would not be milk until Friday. Since we returned the rental car on Wednesday, we weren’t able to return at the end of the week. The boatyard is miles and miles from any shops, so we are living without milk again. On the other hand, we have an abundance of fruit and vegetables. A van came to the boatyard a few days ago loaded with freshly picked goodies. The mangoes are the best we have ever tasted, and we have wonderful papaya, watermelon and the local star-shaped fruit called carambola or five-finger fruit and wax apples as well as fresh cauliflower, cucumber, lettuce tomatoes and peppers, all picked that morning. We aren’t going to starve even if we do suffer from protein deprivation.

While we are here, we still have internet access. This pleases the kids, particularly Katya, as they can still access YouTube and watch Yu-Gi-Oh! episodes. Every year, they bring fewer toys (but all their electronic games and apparatus--although Katya forgot her DS on her bed), and I think this is a combination of their subconscious realization that they need less stuff and their growing up (always too fast). Matthew is still very much a little boy and interested in a variety of things, but Katya, now 13, has adopted an attitude of boredom which, we point out to her, is not very attractive. The usual response to most comments of this sort is her signature eye-rolling.

It rained half the day here, but the weather has been beautiful in all. It’s a bit windy and is expected to stay that way for a while, so sailing will have a thrilling edge when we finally take off.

2008 and getting ready to return to Epicurus and the Caribbean

In four days, we fly out of Sacramento for Grenada, where Epicurus is on the hard at Grenada Marine in St. David's. The temperatures have been in the mid-40s (F) here, and there has been rain for days, so we are ready for warmth and sunshine.

The four of us spent a quiet Christmas at home. The kids never got out of their pajamas. I was able to read two whole books I received as presents. Peter roasted a turkey, and I made roasted potatoes and made other side dishes, so we had a proper Christmas dinner, with Christmas crackers (but no pudding!)

On January 2, we drove up to the Sierras. We missed skiing the last couple years so we spent nine days at Tahoe, where about seven feet of snow fell over the course of a few days.  We were visiting friends at their beautiful second home in the mountains, but they left on the second day as a storm approached.  It was lovely sitting inside and watching the falling, drifting, wind-blown snow through the large windows, cozy by a warm fire.  It was even fun shoveling and blowing all that snow off the decks.

With all the fresh powder, the skiing was excellent.  Katya decided to try boarding this year, and she caught on pretty quickly.  Able to master any sport quickly, Peter also boarded one day, and, at her insistence, he took her to a black diamond run.  Once at the top, she admitted to feeling a bit uneasy, but she made it down conservatively, laughing at Peter falling as he actually tried to carve some turns on his board.

One big of advantage of home schooling is being able to take vacation when others are in school and at work. The resorts are a lot less crowded; there are no lift lines. We signed the kids up for group lessons a couple days, but, since no other kids were around on the weekdays, they actually received private lessons.  We skied and boarded on five days; Peter added one extra to his adventure in the winter wonderland, skiing with our friend Kirby when it was too cold and blustery for the kids.  When we weren't at the resorts or keeping warm inside, we were out sledding or having snowball fights.  

Home schooling is going well. I try to use a lot of materials from the library and the web for school when we are home. On the boat, I have to rely on whatever books I have taken with me, and the World Almanac replaces Wikipedia. It's an adjustment either way. We have information overload here. On the boat, we learn to get by with whatever resources we have with us.

Another glaring difference is in the availability of consumer goods. It's almost impossible to go to any grocery store in the Caribbean and obtain everything on my list. There are always things, such as mushrooms, which just aren't stocked or are only available on a limited basis. In smaller places, it makes a big difference whether the timing of my grocery shopping coincides with the arrival of the weekly mail boat, which also brings all the food and goods not produced on the island (in other words, almost everything). If it's been a few days since the boat arrived, many items are in short supply or just not there. However, I don't miss at all the enormous amounts of stuff available here, so much of which seems extraneous and a waste of resources. Every time we come back from the boat, I am still amazed at all the unnecessary stuff people seem to believe they need.

So, we will be off to a simpler life again, missing friends, libraries, bookstores, fresh cold milk and ice and being frustrated by the weather sometimes.  But we plan to enjoy ourselves!  Life is good.

Remembering 2006 and 2007 (mostly on Epicurus)

In January of 2006, we closed up our house and flew to Florida to begin our great adventure living and sailing on our newly purchased, 62-foot boat. Having never even owned a boat before, other than kayaks and canoes, we were embarking on something entirely new to us. We thought we would be ready to take off in a week! About three weeks later, we actually sailed away from Snead Island Boat Yard in Tampa Bay and steered a course south. For the first five weeks, we had a captain on board to help us, but we probably needed a therapist also! Peter was so busy--learning about all the mechanical, electrical and navigation systems; dealing with a long list of repairs; and consulting with the captain--that I felt left on my own to set up the boat as a home and parent the kids through the transition. In my opinion, we were fairly dysfunctional at that time!

Some places we stopped just to rest, but we also visited Sanibel Island, where we collected a lot of shells and learned about them at the Bailey Museum. We also spent one day on rented bicycles touring the island and the Ding Darling National Wildlife Refuge. (We didn’t really plan for a 24-mile jaunt, but we survived nonetheless!) With a bit of trepidation about going away from the sight of land for the first time, we set out on our first night sail of 100 miles, going from Marco, Florida, to Key West, where we docked for three days and enjoyed sight-seeing in the streets, at the Mel Fisher Museum and at the Butterfly Conservatory.

We had discovered the first time we tried to use it that the dinghy engine didn’t work properly. Peter spent hours working on it, but it still didn’t work when we left Key West. At the recommendation of the captain, we first stopped at Sand Key to anchor for the night and snorkel. There had been thunderstorms the day before which had delayed our departure, so, in retrospect, it was not surprising that there was surge and limited visibility in the water, making our first attempt at snorkeling from our own boat a disappointment. While we were in the water, the captain, Sandy, who was also a great cook, had prepared a delicious meal. Unfortunately, by this time, the boat was rocking so much that we were not interested in eating and went to our berths without food to await daylight. (After two years, this still remains one of our worse experiences at anchor.)

Because we draw 6 feet, we couldn’t get through the cuts between the Florida Keys to get to marinas, and without a dinghy, we couldn’t get to shore from anchor, so we spent five days passing by the Keys, getting ever lower and lower on fresh food. It was strange to be in sight of land and unable to reach it! Finally, we arrived in Miami and found a marina for a couple of nights. We rented a van for a couple days and drove around frantically shopping for everything we thought we might need and not be able to find once we left the country. We had bought provisions in Tampa at Costco, but now we had a better idea of what we needed, so a second $1000 trip to a Costco in Miami had us ready to go. We sat at anchor in Biscayne Bay for a week, waiting for the right conditions to cross the Gulf Stream to Grand Bahama, where our friends Paula and Andrew Conway, who have a condo there, were awaiting our arrival. We enjoyed the Art Deco architecture (or, at least, I did) of South Beach and the sand and surf of Miami Beach--made possible by the fact that Peter had finally coaxed the outboard engine for the dinghy to work, although its reliability made me reluctant to use it on my own.

Passing the enormous floating cities of the cruise line industry, we set out around 4 p.m. for a night crossing to the Bahamas, watching the skyscrapers of Miami disappear on the horizon as the sun set. The auto-pilot, which Peter had been tinkering with for weeks, was still temperamental, and it failed while I was on night watch when a gust of wind (of unknown velocity, since the anemometer was also not working then) hit, forcing us to heel over so much that water poured into the aft cockpit. Of course, I panicked, but Peter rushed up on deck and took over. (My hero!)

That night was the first time we had really needed the lee sheets for the berths, but, in our ignorance, we hadn’t made them taut enough. As I was trying to sleep, Peter tacked and I rolled to the lee side and found myself suspended as if in a hammock in the lee sheet over the floor. I was not very happy, and I went up on deck to let Peter know about my displeasure. The wind was stronger than any we had encountered so far. (At the time, it seemed like a gale to me, but I’m sure that it was just a fresh breeze that would now not bother me at all.) Peter was having the time of his life. When he saw me in the forward cockpit, he greeted me with a loud “Yee-haw!” thinking I was the captain, who would have shared his excitement and was shocked when “What the ****** do you think you’re doing?” was the response he got! To prevent mutiny, he decided not to sail so close to the wind!

Docking outside our friends’ condominium in Lucaya seemed like coming home. We stayed there for three weeks. With the captain gone and friends around, we were able to start feeling at home on our boat. Home schooling, which we had started at the beginning of the fall, got back on schedule, and everyone felt more comfortable with some routine. We took Epicurus out for a couple day-sails with our friends and enjoyed walking on the beach, snorkeling and seeing where Pirates of the Caribbean was being filmed. Peter celebrated his 49th birthday, quite happy with his new lifestyle.

With Andrew, we set off for Georgetown in the Exumas to attend a Music and Heritage Festival there. Our first anchorage ranks in the worst in our experience, and we set sail in the middle of the night rather than endure it any longer. The next day we found a great anchorage with no one else in sight near the southern tip of the Abacos, and we spent the afternoon snorkeling and kayaking in the typically crystal clear waters of the Bahamas. The next day, we sailed for 15 hours, racing down the eastern side of Eleuthera. We were heeled over quite a bit, which gets old after a few hours, particularly for the kids, who can’t play or do much at all tilted at 10-15 degrees. The lee shore of Eleuthera offers no anchorages, so we had to continue to Little San Salvador, where we finally anchored in the dark, after brownies I had made as comfort food had first burned and then been tossed upside down unto the floor during a tack. Peter and Andrew thought racing along close-hauled was great fun, but the kids and I were less than amused, and Peter found his pillow and a blanket tossed into the saloon from our cabin when he came below!

In the morning, we went on deck to see a huge cruise ship seemingly bearing down on us. We were sure that she could not anchor at our spot, in about 15 feet of water, but she did get quite close. When we took our dinghy ashore to the beautiful beach, we discovered that the island was privately owned by the cruise line. Although we were tolerated, we were not welcomed by security. By law, no one owns the land below the high water mark, so they could not kick us off. A few passengers enjoyed talking with us about our adventures.

After a couple more days, we made it to Georgetown, the mecca of the cruising community in the Bahamas. Hundreds of boats were anchored in Elizabeth Harbour for the festival. We anchored with many others off Volleyball Beach on Stocking Island--close enough to dinghy to Georgetown for supplies, phone calls, internet access and the festival itself, but far enough away not to be kept awake half the night by the loud, exuberant live music. Andrew stayed for a couple days before flying home to Grand Bahama, but we stayed on for nearly three weeks. Peter had envisioned encountering many other families cruising, but that is not reality--except in places such as Georgetown, where some families stay for a long time to enjoy the companionship of others. We made friends with a couple with two boys about the same age as Matthew, and there were other kids on the beach every day, so our kids didn’t feel so isolated.

Finally, we had to leave. That was as far south as we made it that first season. We enjoyed visiting various small islands in the Exuma chain. Lee Stocking Island is home to a severely underfunded but fascinating U.S. marine research facility. Warderick Wells is part of the lovely Bahamas Land and Sea Park, with beautiful unspoiled beaches and fabulous snorkeling. Eagle rays swam around our boat all the time. We went to a marina only one night, at charming Staniel Cay, famous for nearby Thunderball Cave. It provided us with over an hour of snorkeling on our own at slack tide in sunlit caves flooded with sea water teeming with life.
Southwest Allen’s Cay is the home of an endangered iguana species, members of which lumber out of the brush to greet rare homo sapien visitors. We developed our skills navigating by sight through the coral reefs of the Exuma Banks, although we barely missed colliding with a huge coral head sailing away from Southwest Allen’s Cay. Like many things about sailing, steering around the coral reefs seemed scary at first but our comfort level increased as we progressed.

People often ask us about what terrors we have encountered on the high seas; we have been fortunate in avoiding any severe weather or major failures. However, accidents happen, and the worse was when I fell from the top companion-way step to the sole (floor) about 5 feet below, hitting my head and side on the fiddle of the galley counter before landing flat on my back while we were anchored off Lee Stocking Island. At first, I thought I must have broken my back because I felt I couldn’t move. As the initial shock wore off, I realized that I had avoided that. However, eventually we realized I had broken my ribs. Peter radioed to the other boats at anchor, and Matthew capably took over the radio as Peter assisted me. Katya was a great help in getting ice and pillows. After a while, Matthew disappeared into our cabin. Later he told me that he had gone to pray “in every religion I could think of.” I couldn’t lie down or get comfortable so I spent that night (and the next few) resting my head on the dining table and dozing. I helped sail the boat the next day to an island with a clinic with one part-time nurse. It sounds quite valiant, but the pain was the same whether I stood at the wheel or not, so there was no sense in staying at anchor.

We set sail across the Exuma Sound for Eleuthera about a week after I broke my ribs. Actually, we motored because there was no wind. (We hate it when that happens!) That was the calm before the storm, I guess, because we spent the next six days at anchor in Rock Sound and at Governor’s Harbour, getting to shore during brief respites from the rain. There is a lovely little colonial-style library in Governor’s Harbour which was our refuge. On board, it was so damp that I felt that my hands and feet were never dry, even down below deck.

Our intention was to get back to Lucaya by Easter (A visit from the bunny was anticipated.), so we set off as the last of the squalls traveled through, making our way through Current Cut easily. (The warnings about dangers in the chart and guide books are useful but we have found that they sometimes make things seem more hazardous than they really are. We have had no trouble as long as we pay attention to the currents, the weather and the obstacles.) We found good anchorages along the way, did a bit of night sailing, and made it “home” (i.e., to Paula and Andrew’s!) by noon on Easter Sunday.

We stayed there a couple more weeks, relaxing, getting ready for another crossing and waiting for the right weather. Finally, accompanied by Andrew and Ian, we left and sailed north for a couple days, arriving at a lovely marina outside of Savannah. The kids, who were suffering from retail deprivation, were delighted to go to Wal-Mart. In addition to re-supplying the boat and buying new toys and videos, we spent one day in the historic downtown area, enjoying an arts and craft festival on the waterfront and strolling along the tree-lined streets reading all the historical markers. (The kids ran ahead and threw themselves in front of them, trying to stop me from reading them all.) We also toured Wormsloe Plantation, one of the earliest ones in Georgia. Our next major stop was Charleston, South Carolina. Once again, we enjoyed the historical sites. The kids and I went to the aquarium and the Fort Sumter museum while Peter worked on the boat. We learned quite a bit about the Civil War--or should I say the War Between the States or perhaps the War of Secession?--at these two cities.

We sailed “outside” for the next stretch, but our plan was to use the Intracoastal Waterway, particularly to avoid Cape Hatteras, which the charts show littered with wrecks. Our attempt to make it up the Intracoastal Waterway was stressful and finally thwarted by bridges. With all the instruments on top, our mast is about 66 feet above water level. Since the fixed bridges are 65 ft. at mean high water, we have to pay careful attention to the tides. Even so, we knocked the tricolor off on one bridge in North Carolina. (It almost hit me on the head.) A couple days later, we approached one bridge and waited and waited and finally calculated that with a strong wind blowing through the inlet just south (which was normal), the tide was a foot above low tide, meaning we could never get under unless we waited for over a week for spring tide. Of course, there was another bridge over ten miles north! Looking ahead in the guide, I found that, despite the fact that all fixed bridges are supposed to have a minimum of 65 ft. clearance, there is one on a canal connecting two rivers that is only 64 ft. Since the canal is not affected by the tides, we could never get through this spot! At this point, we turned around and went to Wrightsville Beach, NC, where we could get out the inlet, and prepared to make the treacherous journey around Cape Hatteras.

Calculating it would take us two days and nights to get to Norfolk, we called for assistance, asking my nephew who had just finished his master's degree to fly down from West Virginia to help. It was a great plan, except he got sick as a dog a half hour out (despite Dramamine), and he spent the first 22 hours either lying down or throwing up. Peter and I actually managed the watches just fine with the autopilot and the radar to help us. The trip we approached with trepidation turned out to be one of the finest we have had, with fair winds and following seas. We finally slapped a Scopolamine patch on Rick and after a couple hours he was fine and able to help us negotiate our way in the dark through the mouth of the Chesapeake, with subs and warships coming out. We anchored in a small bay at night before going the next morning to a marina in Norfolk, where we enjoyed the waterfront and touring the USS Wisconsin.

We had promised Matthew we would spend his birthday at the end of May with my family in Ohio and West Virginia, so we securely anchored Epicurus at St. Michael’s, Maryland, on a creek near the home of our friends John and Anne Morrison-Low, who kept an eye on her for a week. Getting there in time meant fighting head winds for three days, but we made it!

We spent most of June and July on the Chesapeake, where one day I barely missed running down a little fishing boat because I became engrossed in a novel during my watch! The fishermen were more distressed that I might have cut their lines. Along the shores of the Chesapeake, we visited a number of historic, quaint towns. One of our favorites was St. Michael's, which has a wonderful maritime museum. We also spend five days in Annapolis.

The latter half of June, we spent two days motor-sailing up the Potomac. We were joined one day by our friends Geoff Ingram and Dianne Shook. In D.C., we anchored in Washington Channel for 15 days and used the Capitol Yacht Club's dinghy dock and facilities (for $15 a day!) as our base for exploring the city. What a deal! We had use of the showers, the kitchen, the laundry, the library (with wi-fi), and the big-screen TV (The kids loved it!). In addition, we were welcomed like old friends at the bar when we stopped in after exhausting days at the museums and monuments, and the members are a fascinating mix of Capitol Hill workers (including a Representative), entrepreneurs and military people--all well-educated, cosmopolitan and articulate. Conversation--even when it was about boats (which can get boring for me)--was usually lively and stimulating.

We visited our friend Lori Shoemaker and her kids in Washington, and they joined us (They drove; we sailed.) for my family’s annual beach vacation in Ocean City, Maryland, in mid-July. Approaching the inlet before dawn in a very thick fog was quite an adventure for us as about 500 fishing boats were roaring out for a marlin tournament. Navigating was like a 2-person video game, with me at the radar yelling out positions (“Two incoming at 1:00 on the port side!”) and Peter manning the helm and blasting the horn.

After 7 months living on our boat, we escaped the East Coast’s summer heat and humidity and returned home the last day of July in 2006 for a break. It was good to be home, where life is more organized and in some ways less stressful. The kids took up karate and resumed tennis lessons and piano lessons and Scouts.

Matthew worked hard to complete the requirements for all 20 badges and the highest rank in Cub Scouts four months early, before we left for the boat again. We also had a chance to celebrate Halloween in the States. It is a tradition to have a family theme for costumes. We were cats in 2006.

We began our second season on Epicurus in St. Augustine, where the kids and I met Peter, who had sailed her from the Chesapeake with Andrew and Ian and two of their friends. One of the crew had made a small mistake and not released the mainsheet after the boat turned through a jibe, and the force of the wind blew the mainsail (ripped a giant gash in it), so the sail was being repaired, which meant we spent a few days at the marina there.

When we flew into Jacksonville airport, Julie Devlin kindly picked us up. We stopped by their lovely home and had a tour and relaxed a while until Pat got home from work. Then the three of them and the three of us drove on to St. Augustine. After loading our luggage on the boat, all of us (the crew, the Devlins and us) went out to dinner and had a great time. (I was really stressed about starting off on cruising again, and Julie was a welcome calming factor in the emotional chaos!)

The marina is right in the historic district, so we could walk to the fort and old churches and around the streets. At night, the town gleamed with white lights in the trees in the marketplace and on the old houses for Christmas, and one night there was the Festival of Lights, a parade of lighted and decorated boats along the waterfront. Our favorite was the Polar Express. It was surprisingly cold the first few days we were there; we were dressed in jeans and turtlenecks. We had a thermos of hot chocolate with us to watch the Festival of Lights, and everyone still was shivering. (I love Christmas lights, so I stayed for the second passing of the boats while everyone else returned to Epicurus.)

We rented a minivan for a couple days and the kids and I filled it up entirely (even the front passenger seat) with provisions from Costco and Target on one trip, getting ready for every contingency! (I bought 15 bottles of sunscreen, 10 tubes of toothpaste, 8 bottles of shampoo, 36 rolls of toilet paper, etc.. for us plus paper supplies, wine, an office chair, a convection oven and other things for Andrew and Paula in the Bahamas, where things can cost twice as much—assuming they are available.) It’s amazing all this stuff fits on a 62-foot vessel!

After about a week, we were ready to go. Hugh and Roberta (Andrew’s friends) had flown back to Chicago the day after we arrived, and Andrew and Ian had returned to Grand Bahama after a few more days. On December 15, we set off at 8 a.m., sailing for a day and a night to reach Fort Pierce, where we docked at Harbortown Marina, finding no good anchorage. Conditions did not look good for sailing the next couple days, so we made a quick decision, and within two hours of tying up at the dock, we had rented a car, secured the boat for being away, packed our bags and made reservations for two days and nights at Disney World—the kids’ main Christmas present!

Peter and I are not Disney people—it’s too artificial for us—but we have found Disneyland and Disney World to be extremely well-organized and well run, and we enjoy ourselves. Our hotel room at Riverside was really nice and quiet. Because we had only two days, we didn’t enjoy the swimming pool and other facilities (although Peter and the kids did a little fishing at the dock), but we could understand how people could spend a week, going to the theme parks some days and relaxing at their resort on others. We went to the Magic Kingdom one day and Universal the other. I like the shows the best. We all really enjoyed one where they show how stunts are done. Matthew loves Tom Sawyer Island and spent a couple hours there. Katya loves the thrill rides. I went on the Tower of Terror with her, but she had to go on the roller coaster alone. (I loved them as a kid but can’t make myself do them now.) The very best part of our short stay at Disney World during the Christmas season--for me--was the lights extravaganza on Main Street. Zillions of lights covered every building front and crossed the streets from roof to roof, and large, moving displays perched on top of the buildings and revolved and changed colors, corresponding to music. I was thrilled and they could hardly tear me away!

From Fort Pierce, we traveled to Ft. Lauderdale, anchoring overnight on the Intracoastal Waterway at Boca Raton. The bascule bridge openings in Florida are planned well, so that, traveling at 7 knots, we could move right along without much waiting for openings (unlike what we found further north last spring). We docked up the New River in Ft. Lauderdale. At first I didn’t like our location because we were right beside a bascule bridge with its traffic noise and ringing bells signaling an opening, and there were no marina facilities (such as real showers), but we came to like it quickly as we could just walk along the riverfront (in the district where the Riverwalk is). The science museum was close by, and we enjoyed that as well as seeing Night at the Museum at the IMAX theatre on opening night. (We all really liked this movie, much more than we thought we would from seeing the trailers earlier in the year.) There was a Publix (supermarket) a couple blocks away, so I made a last run for food supplies, and we cast off and headed for the Gulf Stream and the Bahamas on the afternoon of December 23. We stopped at a large marina for fuel and waited until late afternoon to leave Port Everglades for a night crossing. Conditions were really good and it was smooth, and fast, sailing all the way. In fact, we crossed much more quickly than we anticipated and had to heave to and wait for several hours for daylight to head into Port Lucaya, Grand Bahama. By noon on Christmas Eve (Customs and Immigration took three hours to arrive to clear us!), we were at Paula and Andrew’s with them and Dan and Ian, ready to celebrate Christmas together.

Paula provided traditional and delicious (and non-vegetarian!) meals for Christmas Eve and Christmas, and Andrew presented the flaming Christmas pudding, a tradition Peter has missed, on Christmas evening after the meal. The eight of us had lots of presents to open on Christmas morning around a real Christmas tree, so it seemed genuine despite the warm and sunny climate. We stayed on the dock outside their condominium for a week, long enough to enjoy the lively, colorful Junkanoo parade in Freeport on the evening of New Year’s Day.

The next morning we set sail for the Berry Islands to the south, finding a reasonable anchorage at Great Harbour Cay for the night. The next night we anchored behind High Cay in the Berries, where strong current made it a bit unpleasant, and the rolling was only slightly mitigated by a stern anchor. The next morning we left early and found our way along the inner banks to the large bight on the west side of Bonds Cay, just a bit further south. We got about as close to the beach as we could. (We’ve become comfortable having a foot or less under the keel in clear water over sandy bottoms. Peter used to insist on at least 10 feet of depth.) With the winds around 20 knots, we sat there for two days waiting for abatement and it was quite pleasant. The island is uninhabited and there were no other boats anchored in sight.

On the 6th of January, we sailed for New Providence Island and found a fairly good anchorage in Old Fort Bay, west of Nassau. We dinghied into the yacht club and had dinner at a restaurant and strolled along the docks, admiring the mega-yachts. On a couple, the owners were entertaining, and the captains stood on the dock by the gangplanks like butlers waiting to usher in guests. One had a lounge and bar on the lowest level, beautifully designed and decorated with a long couch stretching across the beam, punctuated precisely with throw pillows meticulously placed at exactly even intervals along its length. I mentioned to the kids that they should arrange our pillows in such a manner when we returned to our boat, and the captain carefully squelched a smile, not unaware of the owners’ obvious over-the-top insistence on perfection.

The next day we had good winds for sailing fast on a close-haul (which mean we heel over more than the kids usually like, but they adjusted). We passed by over-developed Nassau and anchored on the north side of Rose Island to the east, in Sandy Cay. This was a lovely place with great snorkeling which we wished we had more time to enjoy, but we had to press on to make our family rendezvous in early February.

The next morning, after some snorkeling, we hauled up anchor and headed south to the Exuma Banks, anchoring first off Norman’s Cay, then the next night in Little Bay on the western side of Great Guana Cay. Both days the wind was less than 10 knots, so we motor-sailed. As predicted, the wind increased overnight and was forecast to remain high for several days. With 15-20 knots from the NNE, we set off for a great run to Georgetown on Great Exuma, seeking better protection and some place to be with something to do during the days of high winds. We exited the banks through Galliott Cut. We were able to power through the strong current using our engine, but another boat, Heretic, which had weighed anchor just before us had to turn back because their engine was not working. We kept radio contact with them and were able to see them tack through the next cut south into Exuma Sound. (This took guts and skill as it was narrow, the current was against them and the wind was strong.) We met up with them at Volleyball Beach on Stocking Island across Elizabeth Harbour from Georgetown, discovering that the boat was captained and crewed by four well-educated, mature kids from the East Coast in their early 20s.

Our kids were a bit scared by the strong current and large waves as we passed through the cut into the Sound, and Peter got soaked, but as we turned and headed south, we had the wind on our stern and following seas, and everything was perfect. Matthew broke into a rousing rendition of one of his favorite songs, “What Do You Do with a Drunken Sailor?” Getting through Conch Cay Cut, which we had managed a couple of times last year, was a piece of cake even with 20 knot winds. We anchored off Volleyball Beach on Stocking Island with dozen of other yachts (It’s the place to be in the Exumas, and many yachts stay for weeks or even months.), but we moved on to an anchorage I found on the charts further south in Elizabeth Harbour where we were relatively stable. We stayed there the next four days and nights, taking exciting (read: wet) rides in the dinghy to go to the library, store and internet in town and to Volleyball Beach each day to join in the social activities, which include volleyball and soccer for the kids. Elizabeth Harbour is the only place where other kids are sure to be found, and our kids made temporary friends quickly, just as they did when we stayed 10 days last year. When the winds died down after four days, we moved back to anchor off Volleyball Beach, where we stayed for one more night and day before moving on.

After the Exuma chain, the Bahamian islands become more spread out, and we planned to cover some distance quickly by traveling at night—not my favorite thing to do. My biorhythms do not adjust well to night watch. However, if conditions are right, I manage. Conditions were not right on this trip. We left our anchorage around 4 p.m. and things were fine when the wind was ENE. After sunset, it clocked to the east, and we were motor-sailing into the wind as we navigated to go around the north tip of Long Island on route to a harbor on the north side of Acklins. We never made it there. The bow was being pounded by the waves after we passed Long Island and motored into the wind, ESE, and it was really quite unpleasant. Shortly before sunrise, I told Peter I was near death (only a slight exaggeration! I wasn’t seasick, just sick of the sea!), so we changed course and fixed our sights on the southern tip of Long Island, where we found a pleasant enough anchorage on the lee side by 10 a.m.

After a day of recovery, we set sail the next morning in 20 knot winds and were able to sail most of the way, before hitting head winds, to Datum Bay on the southeast side of Acklin’s Island. There we found good snorkeling, West Indian flamingoes wading in a pond near the shore, and bioluminescence in the water around the boat at night. It is a lovely place.

The next morning we moved on, next stop Great Inagua, one of the larger islands in the Bahamian chain, which has only one town of about 1200 and one industry, the Morton Salt works, which employs about 200 people and supports the entire economy. It was a pleasant sail and we found a truly wonderful anchorage in Man-o-War Bay, much closer to shore than the charts or guidebooks indicated as possible. There were no other boats anchored in this large bay the four days we were there, although the locals welcome tourists. In fact, after a couple hours at anchor, a skiff roared up from the south (the direction of the town) and came alongside merely to welcome us to their island.

We enjoyed hours and hours of snorkeling on one of the healthiest reefs we have ever encountered. We dinghied to the shore and walked along a dirt road; dragonflies and butterflies flitted and danced around and above us continuously. There used to be cotton plantations and cotton plants, with their fluffy white fleece and pink and yellow flowers, grew wild along the road. The ruins of an Anglican church built thickly of stone remain near the beach. We were told that this northwest section of the island was the white settlement when there were more people and the economy was more diversified, and a service is still held by the Anglicans once a year.

Peter practiced spear-fishing here and finally caught his first fish, one of the most beautiful reef fish, a stoplight parrot fish. Katya caught a fish with a rod the same day, so Peter grilled fish on the aft deck for dinner that night. Peter also finally got out the snuba system (We have two tanks on board.) and taught the kids how to use the regulator.

Peter found a local guy on the beach one afternoon and arranged for him to take us on an island tour in his van the next day. Great Inagua has a large salt lake in its interior and is the main breeding ground for the West Indies flamingo. Dennis, our guide, took us to see them and also took us to see the salt works, with its giant hills of glistening white salt and the settlement of Matthew’s Town. Morton Salt is not a very good steward of the environment. Salt water leaches out of its reservoirs into fresh water areas, killing off all the vegetation. Dennis told us that the company also provides no health, retirement or other benefits. Many locals would like to find some way to develop tourism, but the island is fairly far off the main cruising routes.

When the winds became favorable for heading east, after four days, we pulled up our anchor again and sailed and motored through the night for Providentiales in the Turks and Caicos. Conditions were quite pleasant, so I was able to do my fair share of night watch. (Under adverse conditions, Peter has had to do six hours at a time by himself.) The kids have grown to like sleeping in the forward cockpit during night sails, where it is quite comfortable for them. Even though they are asleep, they seem like company during watch, and, in fact, Matthew occasionally pops up to relate his thoughts about a video game or something he plans to invent or to tell a joke—and then goes back to sleep.

We arrived at Turtle Cove Marina before noon the next day and spent a night there. We found Heretic docked there also and enjoyed taking a look at their boat and having them aboard ours for an hour or so of socializing. (Everyone “oohs” and “aahs” over our boat, envious of our space not to mention our ground tackle, our rudder, our engine room and other things which excite sailors.) They seemed like the type of young people we would like our kids to grow up to be—responsible, articulate, adventurous, motivated, and amiable.

We usually don’t stay long at marinas. They are great if you need provisions or work done on the boat, but otherwise they have little interest for us. We prefer to be at anchor. Accordingly, we left the next afternoon and anchored further east along the island, positioned to begin the final push for Puerto Rico. Our plan was to drop south to the Dominican Republic (the port of Luperon) and then travel along its northern shore, cross the Mona Passage (purported to be more difficult than the Gulf Stream) and arrive on the west coast of Puerto Rico in about three days. However, we were riding the winds at the edge of a front as we left the Caicos and found we could easily travel further east than planned, so we did. Of course, Peter never really wanted to get to Puerto Rico via the Dominican Republic; he only made the plan to appease the other family members who did not look forward to a couple days and nights of sailing. He was quite happy to adjust our course so we were out, far from land, in the Northern Atlantic. The winds did not remain favorable for sailing for the entire two and a half day trip, but, even motor-sailing, we were comfortable, and we managed to avoid a couple storms (and two funnel clouds) although we were caught for only a few minutes in a nasty squall. We sailed into Boqueron Bay after sunset on the third day, ate a real meal and slept well.

It was great to see land with elevation after over a month in the Bahamian chain, where the highest elevation is 250’ above sea level. We had a rendezvous scheduled with my sister Beth Ann, her husband, her three kids and their French exchange student in early February on the eastern side of the island, so we had to keep moving.

Even though the island of Puerto Rico is only about 100 miles from west to east, it is not easy to travel in that direction since the prevailing easterlies are heading the boat all the time. The time to travel is the early morning before the wind picks up and when there may even be north or west winds caused by air flowing down from the high mountains to the north, and the local (and correct) wisdom is that you need to be at anchor or in port by noon before the easterlies really start to blow. Because of reefs, it's not wise to travel at night, particularly in or out of an anchorage, so Peter and I were up every morning for a week at 5 a.m. and hauling anchor by 6, with the sky lightening but well before sunrise. We had to motor-sail most of the time and stay close to shore, inside the reefs where there was less fetch and the waves had lost their intensity. The first day we didn't do this as it seemed dangerous to be so close to shore--despite the fact that this was the route suggested by Street's guidebook and other sailors--but we soon learned and got over our (actually, Peter's) fear of navigating among the reefs. We dropped anchor every day before noon, only once going to a marina--a day when the wind was howling well over 20 knots. We enjoyed the little towns of Boqueron and Puerto Patillas as well as some lovely anchorages where there was no one around en route to the eastern side of Puerto Rico.

We had to keep traveling despite the wind. On Sunday, Feb. 4, we rounded Punta Tuna (the SE point of Puerto Rico) expecting more favorable conditions for the sail north. True, our orientation to the wind was better, but the wind speed increased, averaging 20-25 knots with gusts to 30 by the time we found what shelter we could in the lee of Cayo Santiago. (It's also known as Monkey Island because of the non-indigenous population of monkeys put there for research and now abandoned and in control of the place.) We had thought we would be able to stay there for the 6 days that my family members were on vacation here; they could see the island from the house they were renting. (Originally, when we were making plans with them in November, we had planned to anchor just such of their location at Palmas del Mar, but found out after arriving in Puerto Rico that there is construction in the harbor and anchoring is untenable, and there are no docks for accommodating a 62-ft. vessel such as ours.) However, the island didn't offer enough protection from the rolling and rocking of the waves. We had planned to meet up with them Sunday night, but they got lost on the roads (which are not well-marked) getting from the airport. We had taken the dinghy into the nearest town and had dinner and had still not heard from them, so we returned to our boat in the dark. Waves were breaking on the shore and we had to maneuver around small fishing boats moored by the beach. We got totally soaked in the process of launching; the kids said the dinghy ride was better than Splash Mountain--giving you some idea of the adventure!


On Monday morning, we pulled up anchor and headed north toward a larger island which we thought would offer better protection from the wind and waves. Indeed, it did, but we could see that there would be no way to get to the mainland as there were only headlands, no beaches or towns. By this time, I was extremely frustrated because we were using time we wanted to be spending with family—time which is precious to us since we see family and friends so seldom while we are cruising. Three miles north was a marina, Puerto del Ray, just south of Fajardo. We had wanted to avoid staying at a marina since it generally costs well over $100 a day. (They charge by the foot, so $2 a day equals $124 for us.) We called, however, and they said they had space, so in we went. It is an extremely large and well-maintained marina but we had decided we just had to pay whatever for five nights in order to be able to hang out with my sister and her family as planned. When we checked in at the marina office, we were shocked and delighted when they told us the rate was 90 cents a foot a day on a weekly basis. We booked for a week and decided to stay on for another week after my sister et al. left so Peter could work on the boat and we could just relax and get caught up on home schooling after five days of busy sightseeing and sailing with my family following a few weeks of traveling with a deadline from the northern Bahamas to there.

While they were with us, we spent a day in old San Juan, which is a lovely and fascinating historic place. El Morro, the main fortification of the walled city, is quite impressive. On two days, we sailed to an island about seven miles off the mainland, Los Icacos, with a nice beach and great snorkeling for everyone to enjoy. One morning, Kirsten (my niece), my brother-in-law Rich, Peter and I went diving. (We have found the snorkeling to be just as good.) We also visited the only tropical rain forest in the U.S., El Yunque, on the day they had to leave. After they headed to the airport, we went off on a couple shorts hikes away from the road. It was good to stretch our legs in such a beautiful place.

We had a rental car for two weeks, allowing us to recover from the retail withdrawal we experience in the Bahamas. I don’t like to shop, but the kids do, and it was great to be able to go to Wal-Mart (no Target) or malls and find things we needed.

It was interesting to experience the culture in Puerto Rico. Although we knew that people spoke Spanish, we also knew we were returning the U.S. I had assumed that everyone would be bi-lingual because of that, but I was wrong. The majority of people speak only Spanish and most of the signage is in Spanish only. (I can only assume that Spanish, not English, is the language used in the schools.) Despite their citizenship, they are Puerto Rican and we are Americano—as foreign as if we were from Germany or Japan. They are very friendly and we managed when we had to with my limited Spanish vocabulary (I can’t construct a sentence properly.) and their limited English, although a couple of times when we got lost on the roads and asked for directions, we were still lost after the explanation of how to get to where we wanted. Once, Peter decided to take a shortcut to the house where Beth Ann was staying. (She had taken our kids for the night and we had one half-day to ourselves!) We got lost in a neighborhood in Naguabo. After driving for a while in circles, we saw a young man on a sidewalk talking on his cell phone. We asked the way to Route 3, and he gave us animated and detailed instructions with a clear intent to be very helpful. Peter listened, as did I, politely, nodding occasionally during the fast-paced discourse. Once or twice, Peter glanced at me, saw me nodding my head and assumed that I was following. So, we drove away and Peter asked me what to do. He thought I had understood! I told him that I was just being polite since the guy was trying so hard. Unfortunately, we didn’t have our Spanish dictionary with us. I did pick up some word I thought was “arreecho” with rolling “r”s a few times, so every time we reached an intersection, I repeated it with flourishing “r”s and we cracked up laughing and turned or went straight at random, finally finding the main road again. (Later, with the dictionary, we discovered he had been saying either “derecho,” meaning ‘”go straight” or “derecha,” meaning “go right.”)

After we left the main island of Puerto Rico, we visited the Spanish Virgin Islands (the islands east of Puerto Rico before the US Virgin Islands) and all three of the main islands of the US Virgins. We were thrilled to see a lunar eclipse while at anchor near St. Thomas, but one of the most exciting things we have ever seen is the bioluminescent bay on the island of Vieques, Puerto Rico. On a dark night, we paddled away from the shore in kayaks with a guide. (We were fortunate to have no one but the four of us in our group so it was very quiet and peaceful.) After a few minutes, we noticed that the blades of our paddles were starting to glow around the edges. The farther we got from shore, the brighter they became. After a while, we rafted up the three kayaks, and the four of us dove into the dark water. The effect of the bioluminescence caused by the millions of microscopic plankton being disturbed by our presence was magical. We looked as if we had pale greenish-blue auras around us. When we waved our hands vigorously in front of us, the light increased; then, when we stopped the glow turned to individual sparks of white light before fading away. Apparently, the concentration of organisms which produce this amount of bioluminescence is extremely rare world-wide. Factors which facilitate it are a narrow, shallow opening into the lagoon from the sea and shores lined by mangroves, which increase the salinity. The organisms seem to thrive in the warm, salty water which is little affected by currents or run-off.

We arrived in the BVI in mid-March and picked up two friends, Tom Pilgrim and his daughter Laura from St. Louis, at the airport on Tortola (where they just walked out of the terminal onto the beach and the dinghy dock where we picked them up). They spent a week with us and seemed to enjoy just hanging out on the boat, occasionally venturing overboard to snorkel or kayak. For them, spending almost the whole time on the water and not being on land at all some days was unique. For us, it's just a way of life--sometimes it's good and sometimes I almost feel trapped on the boat with a limitless horizon all about.

The BVI is a wonderful place to sail and hang out. (There are lots of enormous, expensive sailing yachts there, some twice our size at least, so we were no longer the big kid on the block!) There are lots of good anchorages, nice bays for kayaking and excellent snorkeling spots. We saw enormous lobsters one day. On another day, I saw squid, a rare sight. They are fascinating and even a bit scary-looking, even though they are not big. When approached, they arranged themselves in a defensive-looking semi-circle around me and allowed me to get quite close before they all turned and swam off as if in formation. We didn't see as many enormous cushion stars as we saw in the Spanish Virgins, but we saw a few fish we had not seen before.

One of the best places in the BVI is in the North Sound of Virgin Gorda, anchored near the Bitter End Yacht Club. It's actually a lovely, picturesque resort, truly idyllic in its setting. Peter spent one day windsurfing (Yet another sport at which he excels.) and the next day, Matthew learned how to do it. The people at the watersports center said they had never seen a child his age pick it up and balance so well so quickly. He really enjoyed it, and we were impressed with his perseverance and ability.

We waited there until we had favorable winds, and then we set off for Sint Maarten on what we thought would be the last night sail of this season. All the rest of the islands to the south of Sint Maarten are within sight of the next one, requiring only a few hours of daysailing to island-hop through the Lesser Antilles. Since we had to skip some of the islands, we did a couple more night-sails.

On Sint Maarten, we rented a car on Easter Sunday to explore the island's French and Dutch sides. Our first stop was a place called Loterie Farms, where there is a park called the Fly Zone in the forest consisting of zip lines and challenging (to say the least) rope bridges and ladders through the trees over gorges and valleys. It was physically demanding and scary. We thought Katya, who will take on anything at Disney, would be the one to approach the whole thing fearlessly, but she backed down before the first zip line, so she had to wait for the nearly two hours it took Matthew, Peter and me to complete the entire course. Both Matthew and I had times when we felt stuck, either daunted by the task or petrified with fear--or both. There was one high swinging bridge where the boards were nearly three feet apart where I just stopped, and I have never felt so terrified in my life. Of course, unless I wanted to face the humiliation of rescue, I realized that I had no choice but to go on, so I did, and we finally reached the end. There was a smaller, less high, less challenging kids' version of the course, and Katya and Matthew went on that afterwards. After his experience on the big stuff, it was not very thrilling for Matthew, but Katya still had some trepidation. The reward was a wonderful lunch at an al fresco restaurant on the farm which served delicious gourmet food with a French flair.

We stopped later at a lovely, miles-long beach--packed with people but nice nonetheless. We have been spoiled by being able to find beautiful beaches and bays and having them all to ourselves on many occasions. The advantage of a resort beach is that there are amenities if you want them. Matthew, who should have been exhausted from the Fly Zone, took advantage of the large trampoline on the water for an hour, jumping and diving the whole time non-stop.

We stayed at anchor in Simpson’s Lagoon at Sint Maarten not because it was so enchanting but because Peter was trying to get a part for the transmission and figure out why our radar no longer works. The kids and I kept busy with home schooling while Peter was attending to maintenance (and taxes, which you just can’t escape!).

We didn’t have time to stop at all the islands in the Lesser Antilles, but we enjoyed visits to St. Kitts, Antigua, St. Barths, Guadelupe and Martinique en route to Grenada, where the boat is now hauled out. A one day land tour of St. Kitts, included an impressive fortress and an old plantation. There was a classic regatta on Antigua which had brought in some amazingly sleek and beautiful yachts. We found Nelson’s Dockyard near English Harbour to be a fascinating historical site to explore. We enjoyed the anchorage at Colombier Bay on St. Barths and the charming little town of Gustavia and Shell Beach on St. Barths.


On Martinique, we visited the town of St. Pierre, which was destroyed by the 1902 eruption of Mt. Pelee; small town near Fort-de-France which was the childhood home of Napoleon’s wife, Josephine, as well as Ste. Anne, a lovely little town and great anchorage on the south side of the island.In general, we found the infrastructure of the French islands better organized and maintained than that of the former colonies of Great Britain, reflecting, we presume, the difference between the French practice of granting the islands and their populations full status as part of France and the English practice of treating them as governed colonies which have mostly preferred independence.

We returned to the States in mid-May, in time for Katya to participate in my oldest niece Cindy’s wedding in West Virginia. After a week visiting with family, we came home to deal with reconstruction of our kitchen and adjoining areas. A fitting on a pipe under the sink had caused flooding just a few days before. For most of the summer, we ate out a lot and did the best we could with a refrigerator and microwave in the garage. At least our new kitchen looks fabulous, with solid oak cabinets and floors and granite counter tops.

Peter left for five weeks in the midst of the chaos, visiting family and friends in England and his Dad in Kenya. He had a wonderful time. Arthur’s farm was looking beautiful with prolific crops of vegetables, maize and flowers. Peter managed to find Arthur a good second-hand Japanese import car to improve his transportation. He enjoyed riding horses around the farm and the neighborhood with Arthur, whose only concession to age is that he now wears a riding hat for his safety.

During the summer, the kids attended watersports, sailing, soccer and tennis day camps, and home schooling resumed in late August. Matthew has been actively involved in a great Boy Scout troop. We joined him and other members of the troop on a family camp-out at Calaveras Big Trees State Park. The fall foliage was stunning. It was the first time we had been camping in over two years.

Matthew has also taken up the flute, while Katya is learning guitar. Both are taking piano and tennis lessons again as well as a hip-hop dance class, and they played soccer for the first time and their teams had great seasons. (Peter enjoyed being the assistant coach for Matthew’s team. He’s also playing squash again and teaching Matthew, who is eager to learn.) The kids participated in a singing class earlier this year, and they just finished a two-month acting workshop which culminated last week in a musical production of A Christmas Carol, which was fantastic. They can’t wait to do soccer and acting again!

My parents visited us for a week in September. We enjoyed a couple days of sight-seeing and relaxing in San Francisco. We also spent a couple of days in Monterey, where we stayed with our friends, Simon and Susan, in Pacific Grove and my parents stayed at one of their favorite lodges.

We are enjoying being home for the Christmas season this year. We have missed skiing the last two winters, so we are going to get in as much time in the snow as we can before flying to Grenada in mid-January. The year 2008 may be the last year we sail on Epicurus because the kids want to be settled in regular school and activities. Therefore, this may be your last opportunity to sail with us, so don’t miss this chance! We will be in the Caribbean until mid-May and on the east coast for at least part of the summer. We already have a Disney World vacation booked the first week of June with Beth Ann and her family.

As I write this, I’m thinking about what has been important about this yachting experience. Sailing and living aboard on our yacht seems self-indulgent, and in many ways it is. However, because we generate our own power and water, we are much more cognizant of what it takes to produce it and are very conservative in its use. Without that being our intention, we are making a much smaller “carbon footprint” on the earth not only by conserving energy and water but by getting by with less “stuff” and all its packaging and transportation costs—mainly because the stuff simply isn’t available. In the States, it is wonderful to be able to find everything you need in stores or on the internet, but the over-abundance of non-necessities stands out in stark contrast to the simplicity of the markets in the Caribbean.

Of course, on the boat, most of the time the pace of our life is much slower and less filled with distractions. We are much more in tune with the weather as well as the tides and seas, and we plan when and where we travel around the daily and seasonal changes. Our daily rhythm of waking and sleeping corresponds to sunrise and the end of twilight. Except for our stays in ports on the eastern seaboard, we remain close to nature, and it is rarely boring (although I must admit it is sometimes). Certainly, the abundance, variety and beauty of life beneath the surface of the water in the Caribbean is forever fascinating.

Life is not one long vacation when we are cruising. The kids have more free time but miss the many activities at home that fend off boredom. The washing machine on the boat has only worked for a couple months, so I wash clothes by hand and now understand how “laundry day” could have actually constituted a whole day’s work for a housewife before modern conveniences. Home schooling also requires a lot of my time, and the boat demands constant attention from Peter. However, there is more time to relax together as a family and we live on “island time.” The trick is to bring some of that ambiance and attitude back to our lives on land. It’s easy to become overwhelmed with the fast pace of life in America or get sucked into the prevalent consumer culture, which can lead to caring too much about what things we have or want, or the achievement culture, which creates too many desires and much discontent. It is all to easy to forget that acquisitions and accomplishments are not nearly as important as the people and time that are the true gifts in our lives.