8.25.13 (9)

Throwback Thursday: American Backpackers in Lima

Now that we’re sitting in Indiantown Marina and it’s obvious that we’re going to be here for quite a long time while we fix up Daze Off to sail, I don’t want to bore you with stories that are only related to boat work (but don’t worry, they’re still coming).   I know that’s what some of you crave, but if you’re like me, you also need a little fun in there.  A little travel and a little adventure.

So for the foreseeable future while we are doing nothing much more than boat work I will be adding a Throwback Thursday post in every week as well.  Cataloging our trip so far, giving you that needed sense of travel and adventure, and for those of you that haven’t started with us from the beginning, catch you up on some of the most important or memorable parts of our travels.

Although Matt and I were loving our time in Guatemala, we knew we had a good 4-5 month stay before hurricane season would allow us to travel again and wanted to do a bit of land traveling.  We knew we’d be hitting most of the neighboring countries by boat eventually so we began to look at areas that Serendipity or any future boat would most likely never take us.  South America sounded very appealing, and after doing a lot of research as well as talking to our friends on Skebenga that had traveled some of it’s regions, we landed on a four week trip that would land us in Peru and eventually depart out of Colombia.

To get by on this extra vacation as cheap as possible we used Spirit Airlines for our flights and found out that every single flight connects in Fort Lauderdale. Since we would need to go from Guatemala, to Florida, then to Peru, we threw in a few weeks of visiting home in Michigan to our itinerary before catching another Spirit flight down to Ft. Lauderdale again.  Our flight out happened to fall on my birthday, leaving us with an 8 hour layover on my birthday, except who would happen to be around other than our own Anna Bianca, picking us up from the airport for a trip to the beach and a yummy Cuban lunch before depositing us back in time for our flight out.

Arriving in Lima at 11 pm we had no plans of finding a hotel or hostel for the evening, but instead spent the night on the tiled floor of the airport.  I was quite content with the situation though, now being able to check off a new country, continent, and hell, even a new hemisphere off my travel list.  Waking up just a little less than refreshed the next day we were ready to take on Lima.

You can find the original post here.

 

Sunday August 25, 2013

Lima Presidential Palace

Looks like the security guards at the airport thought that six hours straight was enough to let us sleep on the floor in front of Radio Shack before nudging us awake at 5:30 this morning and telling us to move on.  Or at least, that’s the body language Matt picked up on since the guard was talking to him in Spanish and I was still passed out.  Honestly, I’m kind of surprised they let us stay there that long considering it was still a relatively busy area in the airport and people were constantly walking by.  Guess they’re still a little lenient with airport sleepers here in Peru, because I don’t think I could see security being ok with people sleeping right next to the food court back in the States.

Still having no idea how far away our hostel was located or the best/cheapest way to get there, we moved over to a table at Starbucks where I got a plain black coffee just to be able to access the internet and answer our questions.  The security guard was still giving us sideways  glances, probably expecting us to wait and see if he left so we could steal our sleeping spot back.  Tempting, but it now looked like we were up for the day.

Quick side note on our spending while we’re here in South America.  As not to completely break our bank and keep our monthly budget not a whole lot higher than the $1,500 – $2,000 a month we allow ourselves right now, we’ve tried to set in place some strict spending rules while we’re away.  We know there will be bus tickets and entry fees to get into places we want to see, but we’re going to try to live in the guidelines of $10/person or less for lodging each night, and $10/person or less for food each day.  Having researched many many hostels before we left, the lodging shouldn’t be much of a problem if we stick to dorm rooms.  The food?  Well, I don’t see any fancy restaurants in our future.  But this is also another reason why we began scouring the internet for cheap ways to get to our hostel downtown.  A taxi would obviously be the most expensive.  There were collectivos, similar to what took to Morales the other month, but we didn’t know if they came to the airport, and more importantly, did not know how to direct them to our hostel.  There’s also an underground metro system, but apparently you have to buy a card, and we just didn’t want to mess with that.  So, taxi it was.

We found a driver right outside the door, an English speaking one, and although we were able to talk him down about six dollars, I’m still guessing we got the much higher tourist rate for the ten minutes it took us to get downtown.  Walking up to the hostel’s door, it was locked with no sign of life inside, so we meandered through the park across the street, giving it a good hour before we went back to try again.  When the door was still locked on our second trip back, we started getting frustrated, until a person passing by on the street pointed to the buzzer we hadn’t noticed right next to the door.  Ahhh, yes.  We Americans are so very observant.

Italian Art Museum, Lima

 Italian Art Museum that was across from our hostel.

 

Getting checked into the hostel and finding out our room wouldn’t be available for another seven hours, we left our bags in a lounge area behind the desk (after having done a quick clothing change there as well) and hit the streets of Lima to see what we could explore.  My new messenger back was stocked full with our Peru guide, a Spanish to English Dictionary, my camera, and even a long sleeve shirt for me to throw on in case it got cold, but with the sun coming out and warming up the streets I had no reason to think I would need it.  Opening up the guidebook once we were outside, it said the Plaza de Armas was a spot well worth visiting.  Trying to follow the street maps given we were quickly lost and needed to ask directions.  As it turns out, the street cop that I tried my terrible Spanish on ended up speaking perfect English.  He directed us toward the Plaza and also told us not to miss out on the Basilica de San Francisco and the tour of the catacombs housed below.

home in Lima

The streets were full of homes with these enclosed balconies.  I want one!

 

When we did find ourselves dropped out into the Plaza de Armas, we were astounded.  It was huge, stunning, and not at all what we were expecting.  Besides the large courtyard with a fountain in the center, two sides of the square were surrounded by bright yellow buildings full of restaurants and shops, and the other two sides housed the Lima Cathedral, and the Presidential Palace.  Each were striking in their stature, and it didn’t even take us two seconds to run into the Cathedral to check it out.  The size itself was impressive as it stands with two large towers marking the entrance and vaulted ceilings with rows of pillars on the inside.  Lining both sides of the church and making their way up to the altar are gated off alcoves that contain sculptures and carvings that are so intricate that I could imagine someone spending their whole lifetime only completing one.

Lima Cathedral

carving in Lima Cathedral

 Back outside we were making our way up the few blocks to the Basilica when we heard music in the streets.  Matt grabbed my arm and quickly dragged me along to where the sound was coming from.  Just outside of the Basilica, coincidentally, was some kind of parade going on.  We didn’t know what it was representing or whom it might be honoring, but it was a treat to enjoy it just the same.  We didn’t know how long it had been going before we came, but we were able to see about three different groups in costumes, dancing and parading through the streets.  One of the groups seemed more tribal, with fancy feathered headdresses and dancing in what looked to us, like Native American type moves.  Then there were woman and little girls in white shirts with very brightly colored ribbons that twirled around them as they spun in circles.  The last one, well, I wasn’t exactly sure what to make of it.  It was mostly men with one girl in the center, and they seemed to have a ten step coreographed move that ended with the guys opening their jackets wide, as if they were about to flash innocent onlookers.  Stranger part though, was the diablo-esque masks on their face and the bottles of beer in their hands.

native dancers in Lima

Ribbon dancers, Lima

Ribbon girls, Limabeer dancers, Lima 1beer dancers, Lima 2

8.25.13 (9)

 When the parade ended we marched back up the street to the Basilica to see if we could get in on one of the tours.  For an English speaking guide we waited about 15 minutes, but then joined a group of about 20 people as we began to wander through the halls.  This church was built in the late 1600’s, and as we walked through it was pointed out that many of the tiles and paintings lining the walls  were original to the building.  For one part of the tour, we stopped in front of a painting of Jesus and the 12 disciples at the last supper, but according to this painting, the food du jour was guinea pig (a traditional Peruvian meal) served with a tall glass of pisco sour.  Maybe the margarita type drink would be ok for me to switch out with wine, but I don’t think guinea pig would be high on my list of things to eat as my last meal.

Our tour strolled through a few more rooms with just as many amazing amounts of art, architecture, and history, before we were finally led down to the catacombs below.  These were a part of Lima’s original cemeteries, which were built under churches.  Some of the guides estimate that there are over 75,000 bodies buried below Basilica de San Francisco alone, and we were about to go see them!  Only a small portion of the catacombs are open to visitors, but one of the rooms we were taken through showed how they were able to fit so many remains in there.  There was a long row made into a pit that sits next to the current walkway, and the 100 ft long area is sectioned off by stone into smaller pits that were maybe four feet wide by eight feet long.  Bodies would be placed in there, and as soon as that one filled up, they moved to the next pit, and so on.  Once it was time to start back at the beginning, those bodies would have decomposed down to bones and it made room for new ones on top.  At some point it was ‘organized’ where the bones were separated and put together in like categories.  Skulls over here, femurs over there….  Which is what we saw as we walked through.  Pit next to pit overflowing with human bones.  And since I’m a strange person that’s into gross medical stuff, I wasn’t creeped out or disgusted at all.  My mind instead wandered to things like ‘I wonder which pit of bones would be the best to hide in if an earthquake collapsed all the exits and I need to stash the granola bars in my purse before anyone finds out I have them and tries to take them.’   Cause my mind likes to wander like that.

inside San Francisco Church

 Inside the church.

Basilica de San Francisco

They didn’t allow any photos on the tour, so I could only get one of the outside.

 

When we walked back onto the streets once more, we found that the temperature had dropped dramatically.  My long sleeve shirt was soon on, along with a scarf, and I was almost wishing I had gloves on me as well.  I’m sure it was only in the mid to low 60’s, but apparently that’s how much my blood has thinned now.  I didn’t have too much time to think about it though, since we were cutting it very close on being able to catch the changing of the guard at the Presidential Palace, which happens at noon every day, although the friendly street cop told us to get there at quarter to.  The Presidential Palace is an impressive looking building that is the official residence and office of Peru’s President.  Here’s some interesting information I found about the palace on ‘Time – Travel’: “Back in the time of the Incas, the site had strategic and spiritual meaning, which is why the last Inca chief in Lima also lived here. Pizarro, the conqueror of the Incas, so liked the site that he kept it for the first Spanish palace, whose construction began in 1535. Since then, Government Palace has been rebuilt numerous times; the current French-inspired mansion was constructed in the 1930s.”.

It was nice we had the guy tell us to get there early because for a few minutes we were able to walk right up to the gates, as we were the only ones waiting outside it at the time, and snap a few close up photos of the building before the crowds came.  And boy did they.  Not even five minutes later, there were hundreds of people gathering in front of the palace to watch the show that was about to start.  Guards ushered everyone off the sidewalk and into the street (which was closed to cars in that area), but luckily we were still able to keep our spot in the front row.  It started with some high kicks from guards strutting around right in front of the palace facade, and then exiting just next to them was a full marching band.  For awhile I was so intent on watching the band that I didn’t even notice any guards that might be changing.  But then I was pulled away by Matt to watch something even more interesting.  There was a little old lady at the back of the crowd that was walking by and whacking people with her purse, for no apparent reason!  At first I thought she was just trying to cut to the front, but she’d wander in and out of the people, her only mission to clobber people with her bag.  Once the police tried to escort her away, she began whacking them as well!  You could tell there were two shows going on, with half of the crowd watching the changing of the guard, and half of the crowd watching her.

8.25.13 (13)

8.25.13 (14)

changing of the guard, Lima Peru

 By now our stomachs were growling as we realized we had not eaten anything since our airport Pizza Hut dinner last night.  Drifting through the streets and keeping an eye out for food, we came across plenty of little street vendors that were in the business of selling knit items like winter hats and leggings…and, oh my god,… llama gloves!  I don’t even know how long ago this conversation started between Matt and I, probably when I couldn’t find any winter gloves at Meijer in the middle of August, but I told him that it was likely we’d want some for this trip since we would be visiting cold places, and if we couldn’t find them in the States we’d just have to buy him llama gloves once we got to Peru.  I had been totally joking, I didn’t even know they made them.  But here they were, little knit gloves with images of llamas on the front.  It must be fate.  Although Matt, who still didn’t find them necessary at the moment, said he could live without them.  Ho hum.

Also along the streets we found little vendors selling empanadas for only $0.40 and each settled on one of those until we could find something better to eat, which, between our little dance of ‘Where do you want to eat?’  ‘I don’t know, where do you want to eat?’, can sometimes be hours.  Rounding the next street corner though, we saw what looked to be some kind of food festival going on with rows of chefs in front of one long table, all preparing different dishes.  The prices looked to be in our budget and there was definitely local fare there, so we decided to give it a shot.  Can you guess what dish ended up with?  The guinea pig.  We promised ourselves we’d try it at least once while in Peru to say that we did it, and this seemed to be as good of a time as any.  Splitting the dish since we didn’t know how we’d like it, we also got a pitcher of chicha morada (a natural beverage made out of purple corn) and brought it to an open table in the back.  The meat in the guinea pig itself wasn’t bad, kind of like eating the dark meat from a chicken or turkey, although it was kind of hard to pull it off from the body, and the little paw of the guinea pig that was sticking out at me kind of grossed me out.

Which makes the next set of events even more surprising.  We ate the toe nails.  I know, I know, eeewww!  And they were, too.  But back when we were visiting Matt’s grandma, she told us of her own time spent in Peru and how the toe nails of guinea pigs were a treat for the little kids to eat, and they’d snack on them the same way we eat potato chips.  I think they ones they got were a little more deep fried than ours, and it was definitely and experience that I can say I did once but I will never try again.

8.25.13 (17)

guinea pig lunch

 Since the town center of Lima seemed to be getting colder by the minute and we were not in any way dressed for it, we started making our way back toward the hostel where we could at least visit a few museums inside until our room was ready.  On the way back we passed through one more main plaza, Plaza San Martin.  There was one thing there that I quickly wanted to take a look at before moving on, and it was something I had actually read on another cruisers website (Bumfuzzle) when they also were doing land travels through this area.  Here’s a quote from their blog:  “Right across the street was another big plaza, this one with a statue in the middle that I found pretty amusing. The statue is of Madre Patria, the symbolic mother of Peru, and when it was commissioned the artist was told to give her a crown of flames. However the word for flame is llama, just like the animal. So here on the good lady’s head sits a tiny little llama with giant flames shooting out next to it. My favorite part is that they simply left the llama on there. That takes a good sense of humor.”.   Gotta love the important information that gets shared between cruisers.

Maria Patria statue

 Not a great shot (I didn’t have my zoom lens), but you can just make out a llama on top of her head.

Plaza de San Martin

Plaza de San Martin

 

Crossing through the giant outdoor mall between us and our hostel, we purchased tickets from a kiosk to get ourselves to Nazca tomorrow, and probably made the girl at the desk wish she’d never see us again after asking a million questions and coming back three times after checking things out on the internet.  I was ready to go back to the hostel and just sit for the rest of the day, but Matt wanted to go to the art museum since it was still fairly early in the day (about three o’clock).  I managed to gather just enough energy, since I’ve only slept about nine hours in the past two days, to force myself to trudge through MALI.  The fact that the $4 entrance fee was reduced to $0.40 on Sundays, didn’t hurt either.  There were many impressive works of art inside,  with a good portion of them featured by prominent Peruvian artist José Sabogal.  The top floor of the museum was closed off for renovations, so it didn’t take us more than an hour to get through, and by then I was more than ready for some rest.

sitting in MALI

8.3.13 (9)

Throwback Thursday: A Day of Firsts

Now that we’re sitting in Indiantown Marina and it’s obvious that we’re going to be here for quite a long time while we fix up Daze Off to sail, I don’t want to bore you with stories that are only related to boat work (but don’t worry, they’re still coming).   I know that’s what some of you crave, but if you’re like me, you also need a little fun in there.  A little travel and a little adventure.

So for the foreseeable future while we are doing nothing much more than boat work I will be adding a Throwback Thursday post in every week as well.  Cataloging our trip so far, giving you that needed sense of travel and adventure, and for those of you that haven’t started with us from the beginning, catch you up on some of the most important or memorable parts of our travels.

Here we had spend five weeks in the Rio Dulce of Guatemala and settled into a nice groove and daily routine.  Most of the cruisers had left their boats there for the season to do land traveling and Matt and I had a good group going with the few remaining members.  Our friends Luki and Elmari were still around as well as Luis that we’d run off to El Estor with, and we’d added a new member, Anna Bianca from Brazil.  The six of us were inseparable and would usually gather together every night for dinner or sometimes an interesting collectivo ride to the neighboring town of Morales where we fit 28 people in a van meant for 12.

To throw a twist in to our activities, over dinner one night we thought it would be fun to take Luis’ boat to the Bay Islands of Honduras for a week, a little get away that went terribly wrong before we could even leave, a hurricane in the Caribbean Sea changing direction and sending 30 ft waves rolling through our path.  When that didn’t work out Anna Bianca and I thought some land based travel to Antigua was a much safer bet.  All of the guys bowed out due to impeding boat work so her and I decided to turn it into a girl’s weekend.

I was treated to a wonderful few days in a beautiful city as well as a few firsts in my life.  All in all, another weekend I wouldn’t mind living over and over and over again.

You can find the original post here. Also, check out this post to see Picturesque Antigua Guatemala.

Saturday August 3, 2013

Antigua skyline

Our dorm room was pitch black, it was like a cave inside. There was a small frosted window that was illuminated by a fluorescent light outside, one kept on for 24 hours a day, so I had no idea what time it was. When our roommate silently slipped out of his bunk and out the door, I figured it had to be around 6 am since he had been in bed for so long. I closed my eyes again, even though I was fully awake, until Ana Bianca peered her head down to my bunk, apparently awake as long as I had been, and informed me that it was close to 8 am. Well crap. With the full day ahead we had planned, sleeping in was not one of them. Trading my sweatpants for jeans, I tiptoed barefoot out the door and to the bar area to see what was being served for breakfast. Besides a few other early risers, all on their smartphones or laptops, the area was quiet and empty. Sitting alone for a few minutes, I decided to quickly run back to the room to grab my laptop and then settled myself at one of the larger tables that was just vacated by a group of young girls that had just been picked up by a bus. Since a two day trip had my bag crammed full and I still have no idea what I’ll fit in there to last me six weeks through Michigan and South America, I was tempted to ask them, “How did you pack for this trip? What is in your backpacks?!”, as they were walking out the door, but I’m sure a conversation such as that between girls would have taken much longer than the 15 seconds of time they had on their hands. Instead, I waited for Ana to join me, where we browsed the extensive breakfast menu and were soon served large plates of food that rivaled any cafe back home. The reviews were not lying when they said it was worth coming to this place for it’s breakfast alone.

breakfast at Black Cat

Black Cat Hostel

Changing out of the rest of my pajamas and packing up my new messenger bag, the two of us hit the streets for a little sightseeing before our 11:00 massage. Every building in the town was beautiful, but it dawned on me even more how commercial this city is, and having a boutique or upscale restaurant or jewelry store on every doorstep made the place lose some of it’s Guatemalan authenticity. It was definitely a town that catered to tourist, and it showed. That’s not to say that Guatemala isn’t entitled to it’s own European like upscale towns, but in my mind, the facades reminded me too much of Trinidad in Cuba, which I preferred, but the vibes of these two towns were so vastly different. 

One of the upscale shops we went into was a Mayan Jade store.  Jade carvings were everywhere as well as all different kinds of jewelry.  My first mistake was picking up any of the items, and my second mistake was trying them on in front of the mirror.  The rings, the necklaces, they were all so beautiful and the words girls weekend kept popping in my head.  I deserved to treat myself to a little something, right?  I’ve been so good for so long, not having asked for anything since the $2 root bracelet I bought on our waterfall day back in Jamaica.  I went through a stack of rings, trying every single one on, and then finally deciding on one, when I went in a back room to see where Ana Bianca had strayed off to.  Inside was a tower of necklaces and key chains, each with a symbol on the front and a word on the back.

Speaking to a man that worked there, we found out that they were the Mayan symbols for your birthday, and kind of like astrology, had something to say about you based on when you were born.  Flipping through book to find my own (based on the month, date, and year of your birth), I found out I was Aq’ab’al, or the bat.  The salesman picked up a necklace with my symbol and handed it to me along with a card describing that symbol.  Just as soon as I had decided I could part with a few dollars for a ring with a small jade bead on it, I was now in love with a necklace that bore my Mayan symbol for about three times more money.  Damn.  Oh well, at least it will be personal and have meaning.  I can’t say I love what the card had to say about me though.  ‘Early riser’?  I think not.  ‘They tend to get ill, to get mugged, or be pursued’.  Thanks for the vote of confidence of good things to come.

It’s always interesting to see how astrology and other spiritual practices like Mayan symbolism offer insight into your personality and life path. While the Mayan calendar may seem a bit more ominous in its predictions, astrology provides a more detailed breakdown of your birth chart, pointing out strengths and challenges based on the position of celestial bodies. If you’re curious to explore more about how the stars and symbols align with your life, a reading could provide clarity. If you’re considering a psychic reading or even tarot reading, it might help to prepare questions to ask a psychic that dig deeper into areas you’re curious about—love, career, or your spiritual growth. Just like tarot cards, these readings tap into universal energies, guiding you to a deeper understanding of your journey.

Mayan jade symbols

Mayan astrology symbol

Jade Maya figures

After prettying myself up with some jewelry, it was time for us to make our massage appointment.  Now it was very beneficial I had Ana Bianca as my translator, because even though just about every other shop in this town spoke English, this one did not.  Even though we signed up for a couples massage I guess I didn’t expect that they’d follow through on the ‘couples’ part of it, but we were lead into a room that had two massage tables side by side.  Ana Bianca was instructed, and then relayed to me, that we were supposed to strip down and then lay face down on the table with the towels covering our behinds.  On her way out, allowing us time to undress, the woman turned down the light and put on romantic music.  Ana Bianca and I kind of eyed each other and then burst out laughing, half expecting Marvin Gaye’s ‘Let’s Get It On’ to start playing.

After we were each situated on our tables the women came back and asked of we were ready, explaining to each of us what they’d do.  Ana Bianca was getting the deep tissue, but I was getting the hot stone, and I just nodded to everything the woman said in Spanish, pretending I understood what was going on.  Since this was my first massage ever I didn’t know exactly what to expect, but I had a feeling that due to my slight frame the massuse would be go too easy on me for fear of accidentally breaking or bruising something, so I had asked just before she came in how to say ‘stronger’ in Spanish.  And true to my premonition, although the massage felt excellent, it was lighter than I could handle. But with my face buried in a towel it never felt like the right time to roll over and say anything, so I went with the flow and enjoyed the oils and hot stones.  It was one of the most enjoyable and relaxing hours of my life, and I may have to start requesting more of these now.

8.3.13 (9)

Like my new necklace?

couple's massage

“There’s nothing wrong with me…lovin you…”

Another great thing about our girls weekend to Antigua is that Nacho and Annica were coming over from Guatemala City to see us.  After we’d gone back to the hostel and washed the oily residues off our skin, we went back out to the city square to meet our friends.  Upon seeing them we were greeted with hugs and quickly ushered ourselves into a cafe to warm ourselves up from the drizzles that were springing up outside.  They asked what we’d been up to with our time there and we filled them in with the things we’d done, along with the fact that we’d just grabbed lunch at a popular place up the road with giant nacho’s called Monoloco’s (thanks for the recommendation, Nate!).  Nacho replied that he was friends with the owner, Jean-Louis, and that we were actually scheduled to visit his home in Antigua in just a little bit to enjoy some cheese and wine.  What are the odds…

Antigua Guatemala

Antigua arch 1

Antigua arch 2

Before we stopped by there though, Nacho and Annica wanted to take us on a tour through a very old monastery.  The Capuchin Convent was completed in 1736 and today is partially complete and partially in ruins.  We didn’t have long, but we roamed through the grounds with Nacho giving a narrative on the parts he knew.  We saw the very small and sparse living quarters for those residing there and appreciated the architecture that was still standing after the Santa Marta earthquakes in 1773.

Jessica in Capuchin Conventliving quarters at Capuchin ConventCapuchin Convent

With not much daylight left on our hands now, we one of the winding roads up to Jean-Louise’s home.  Even though he had never met Ana Bianca or myself before, he eagerly welcomed us into his home, and an avid sailor himself, wanted to know all about our lifestyles, our boats, and our passages.  While Ana Bianca, who knows much more about boats than I do, went in depth about her boat and how it handles, I took a few moments to look around his beautiful home that was perched up in the hills of one of the volcanoes that towered over the town.  It was a mix of modern and African safari, had a great balcony with gorgeous views, and I instantly fell in love with it.  Opening up a bottle of wine while Nacho made more croquettes in the kitchen while the rest of us sat at the table, sampling cheeses and talking about travels.

Jean-Louise was quite a character, and quite a traveler as well.  As one bottle of wine turned into another and another, he shared stories of his past travels and Nacho would jump in at points on trips they took together.  We were all having such a good time that we almost didn’t realize it was time to leave for our eight o’clock dinner reservation in town.  All of us piled into Nacho’s SUV and wound down the roads back to town and the conversation continued in Spanish, surprisingly with me having an understanding of 40% of what was going on.  Or at least, I knew it was about politics and social economics.  Thanks Michel Thomas for interjecting those words in my studies!  Apparently, they did come in handy.

Jean-Louis' patio

Ana Bianca, Annica, and Dan.

view to Jean-Louis' patio

Jean-Louis' living room

view from Jean-Louis' patio

The five of us had a wonderful dinner together in town at a restaurant that was famous for it’s onion soup, and it did not disappoint.  It was actually so filling that I could not even order an entree, although the did have steak on the menu, and a tender medium-rare piece of meat was sounding very good at that moment.  But between the nacho’s at Jean-Louis’ restaurant, the cheese and croquettes from Nacho, and now the soup, I did not have the ability to take another bite of anything.  That was, until I saw the dessert menu with a Nutella crepe listed on there.  I know this sounds kind of silly, but just about every travel blog I’ve ever read has it’s travelers going worldwide and yet each of them has found Nutella crepes at one place or another and has raved about them.  On our own little trip, I’d only spied them once before, at a roadside stand in Utila.  The first time we passed by we had no cash, but I made Matt promise that we’d visit again.  That never happened.  So when I saw them again on this dessert menu in Antigua, Nacho must have seen my face light up like a Christmas tree because he was quickly asking if I wanted one.  I shyly nodded yes while mentioning that I’d never had one before and always wanted to try it, but what I wanted to scream was “Oh my god yes, I can’t live without it!”.  When it was placed down at the table with five other forks I did my best to take slow bites and offer it to everyone else around the table as well.  But who was I kidding.  They knew just as well as I did that this was a dream dessert for me, so after each taking a bite just to sample, they let me devour the rest on my own.  It was heaven.

Nutella crepe

El Estor, Guatemala

Throwback Thursday: Running Away with Strangers

Now that we’re sitting in Indiantown Marina and it’s obvious that we’re going to be here for quite a long time while we fix up Daze Off to sail, I don’t want to bore you with stories that are only related to boat work (but don’t worry, they’re still coming).   I know that’s what some of you crave, but if you’re like me, you also need a little fun in there.  A little travel and a little adventure.

So for the foreseeable future while we are doing nothing much more than boat work I will be adding a Throwback Thursday post in every week as well.  Cataloging our trip so far, giving you that needed sense of travel and adventure, and for those of you that haven’t started with us from the beginning, catch you up on some of the most important or memorable parts of our travels.

When I last left you I was ready to throw the towel in on cruising.  Moving too fast through countries that all looked the same from the waterfront without ever getting the chance to fully experience them.  I’d had enough and needed a change.  Luckily the universe provided it for us in the form of our hurricane hole for the season, Rio Dulce Guatemala.  When we arrived we were able to slow down and settle in, as well as meet back up with our friends Luki and Elmarie of s/v Skebenga, whom were staying in the same marina as us.

For once there was no worry about what kind of weather was on it’s way, dreading an upcoming sleep deprived passage, or even making sure we were provisioned enough to last us until our next supermarket stop.  It was time to sit, take a deep breath, and enjoy.

It didn’t take us long to meet even more friends a few days after arriving, or for that matter, run away for a weekend with a person we’d just meet.  A circumstance which rekindled our love for this lifestyle and reaffirmed that what we’re doing is the right thing.  We don’t need to turn our tails and run as soon as the going gets hard.  Sometimes you just need to stop…throw away your plans of what you think you have to do..and just go with the flow.

You can find the original post here.

Thursday June 27, 2013

El Estor, Guatemala

A kind of unusual thing happened when the four of us returned from the market the other day. We were all walking down the docks with bags in hand, when Luki was stopped by an older Latin American man along the way. It took only a moment to find out that he had a boat here at the marina as well, and the two dove right into a conversation that they must have been having on and off for the past few weeks that Skebenga had already been there. Then it popped up in conversation that Luki and Elmarie must be going somewhere with this gentleman, and he asked them to come aboard his boat to have a look at what would be their cabin. Then turning to Matt and I to ask if we’d like a tour of the boat as well, we set our belongings on the dock to hop on and take a look. It took only a moment to find out that the gentleman we were talking to was named Luis, that he was originally from Cuba, and that he had been here on his 42ft motor vessel for the past two years. The four of us climbed on to his boat and were astounded at what kind of space a 42 foot motor vessel could afford you. It was a tri-level space, with a salon, galley, and navigation space on the main floor; a small berth, steering wheel, controls, and a large foredeck with a bench on the upper level; and a head plus two cabins on the lower level.

As we wandered from level to level, gasping with ooooohs and aaaaahs at all the livable space, Luis showed Luki and Elmarie their master cabin, and then as we passed to the guest cabin, turned to Matt and I, and with a smooth Cuban accent said, “You two must come as well, this will be your cabin, I insist.”. Who…Where…What?! Go where? For what? How long? And who are you? It turned out that a town called El Estor, situated on Lake Isabelle and about 20 miles west of us, was having a Regatta in a few days, hosting a celebration and inviting all the local yachts in the are to come participate. It would just be two days, leaving on Thursday morning with a dinner and celebration that night, anchoring out in the harbor to sleep, and then maybe spend some time sunning and swimming the next day before making our way back to the marina. Although we already have a list of boat projects the length of our arms piling up, we agreed. Two days was short enough to leave Georgie on the boat alone (with tons of food, water, and ventilation), and we needed a little fun. We we worried about hopping on a boat with a guy we just met? A little. But all we had to do was make sure we could out-run or out-swim one person on Skebenga.

So at 8:00 this morning, with one backpack stuffed full between the two of us, we climbed on m/v Hydromax once more and got ready to push off. We found out it was not just the five of traveling as we had originally assumed, we had picked up two more people. One was a local girl named Janita that was Luis’ twice a week house/boat-keeper, young sweet, about eight months pregnant, and also in need of some rest, relaxation, and fun. The 7th was another young girl, Nicole, who’s also originally from the States, and has been traveling south for the past few months, already hitting Mexico and Belize. The five of us boat-knowledgeable people as well as a few deck hands from the marina, prepared to push off and join the fleet already heading up the river. It didn’t take long for everyone to congregate around the wheel, sitting four across on the berth that lay behind, with a few people taking turns to get some fresh air on the bench on the foredeck. The day was sunny with just a little bit of haze, and the water was flat calm. It didn’t take long for drinks to start being served, and not even the alcoholic kind. Luis went to work making everyone a cup of espresso, deliciously sweet, and then we moved on to the cool refreshing bottles of soda stored in the freezer. Everyone was having a great time, enjoying the slow pace up the river and into the lake.

espresso on Hydromax

Luki at the helm

Lake Isabelle

Elmarie on deck

foredeck of Hydromax

Matt at the helm

A lot of the other boats making their way up the water with us had all of their flair out, flags running up and down all of their spreaders. The ride took about four hours, where the seven of us soaked up sun and fresh air, working our way from coffee, to Pepsi, and finally the cold Gallos (local beer) stocked in the freezer. Arriving at the town of El Estor, we wound our way through the other boats already sitting at anchor and dropped ours. Since the festivities were not starting until that evening, we took advantage of the extra free time to take a dip in the lake. At first it was just little jumps from the transom and the railing surrounding it, but then we got more daring and went to the upper deck, getting a running start and feeling the rush as we fell the fifteen or so feet into the water. Any previous apprehensions we had about getting in the water since we’d heard reports of alligator sightings on the way up, were quickly gone as we dove, swam, and played in the water until we were too tired to keep ourselves afloat anymore. Changing into street clothes, we called a lancha over to take all all in to town so we could do a little wandering before the big banquet dinner that was being held for all the boaters that night.

view of El Estor

dropping anchor

boat coming in to El Estor

The shores were lined with hundreds of locals, and just on the water front a band had been set up, playing Latin music as children ran around and vendors sold hot food. Making our way through the masses, we eventually fell out on one of the side streets. It was a little larger than Fronteras, but most of the shops looked the same, large street shacks with all of their goods stacked or hanging on display. We’d heard this was a large mining town run by Russians, and they were the ones putting the regatta on for the boaters. It turns out that although this town is beautifully situated on a large lake, no one uses the water other than for fishing. I guess they wanted more people to take advantage of it for recreational purposes (locals or cruisers, or both? I’m not sure) and they put on this big festival complete with a banquet including free food and drinks for anyone that came on their boat. I’m glad we found someone to come with, because after trying to back her in one time, I don’t think Matt wants to take Serendipity out of her slip until we leave for good. As we got further back into the streets of El Estor we found out that there was also a carnival set up. Along each side of the streets were games where you could win prizes, mostly cheap plastic Disney toys and coloring books that would be found in most dollar stores back in the states. We took a pass on those, and just slowly meandered through the streets, taking the whole scene in.

We were having so much fun getting to know a new culture that we almost forgot about the time and missed the parade of boats. Practically running back to the water, we watched as about 2/3rds of the boats that came, sail or motor around the bay.  Having come in a motor vessel, there wasn’t a big need to have participated ourselves, we had no flags or sails to show off, but we were more than happy to watch the show from shore. When it ended we slowly strolled up the dirt road to the boardwalk and sat down for some good people watching. This must have been a very big event for the residents of El Estor, and the cruisers were outnumbered by the locals at a rate of about 10 to 1. Long before we ever got to Guatemala, we kept hearing about how the women will wear very bright and colorful outfits, and even though it wasn’t every woman, many girls in the younger generation wore jeans and t-shirts, there was still a fair share of women in their traditional clothing.  There was a little boy that was coming around selling fried plantains, and each of us bought a bag for 1Q each, or $0.13.  I’m never leaving here.

streets of El Estor

fabric/clothing store in El Estor

fresh coconut water

carnival in El Estor

parade of boats on Lake Isabelle

Lake Isabelle

our group of misfits

fried plantains for sale

Dinner that night was in a large hall that was filled with about 80 cruisers.  True to their word, they wanted to keep us full with food and drinks.  I’m even guessing they over-purchased on the Stella Artois, since as soon as dinner was brought out to us, someone was right behind giving each person two bottles of beer, regardless of what they were drinking.  While we ate we enjoyed live music from a group of men playing instruments ranging from drums to cellos to xylophones.  Some of the songs they played were very traditional, but they even tried to appease their fellow visitors by playing things like ‘Thriller’ by Michael Jackson.  After the plates were cleared a few people got up and began to dance, but we were ready to head outside and see what the town had to offer after dark.  On the waterfront there was a large stage set up with another band playing more American instruments, but no one was out dancing.  Nicole, Luis, and I decided to change that and, after about 3 Stellas, had no problem shaking our money makers all by ourselves.  It was enough to bring just a couple other people out to dance, but mostly only other cruisers.  The locals seemed content just to sit to the side and tap their feet to the beat.  There was one local guy though, that took me hostage, and after three dances in a row, Luis had to come rescue me from his grasp.  The guy wasn’t being vulgar in any kind of way, he was just very excited to dance and didn’t get the hints (or Spanglish) I was throwing his way that I was tired and needed a break.

Our whole group was exhausted from the fun filled day though, and at the late hour of 8:30 pm, we hopped a launcha to go back to Hydromax for the night.  It wasn’t quite bedtime yet, so the five of us boaters brought a bottle of wine to the top deck to enjoy some conversation and a lightning storm off in the distance.  We were all taken by surprise when a fireworks show began at 9:00, and we sat there in awe as the bright colors exploded before our eyes.  It was a special thing for us cruisers, yet I could help but feel grateful that everyone in El Estor was able to enjoy the show as well.  I’m guessing this is the first fireworks display the town has ever had, and even though it was meant to be a treat for us gringos that came for the regatta, that people who had made their way down from their mountain villages were able to experience it too.  It was such a perfect day and I feel so lucky that we were invited.  We’ve only been in this country for a few days, and it has been so good to us.  I can’t believe that just a few days ago I wanted out of this lifestyle  What was I thinking?

banquet for regatta

dancing in El Estor

 

Sailing Bahamas

Throwback Thursday: The World is Not Enough

 

Now that we’re sitting in Indiantown Marina and it’s obvious that we’re going to be here for quite a long time while we fix up Daze Off to sail, I don’t want to bore you with stories that are only related to boat work (but don’t worry, they’re still coming).   I know that’s what some of you crave, but if you’re like me, you also need a little fun in there.  A little travel and a little adventure.

So for the foreseeable future while we are doing nothing much more than boat work I will be adding a Throwback Thursday post in every week as well.  Cataloging our trip so far, giving you that needed sense of travel and adventure, and for those of you that haven’t started with us from the beginning, catch you up on some of the most important or memorable parts of our travels.

Sometimes they’re not always the highlights but instead the downfalls.  Because sometimes, cruising sucks.  You can even be in paradise yet still find it sucking for a multitude of reasons.  This is where I found myself in late June after 10 months out, while sitting in the Bay Islands of Honduras.

We had just come from they Cayman Islands where we said goodbye to Brian and Stephanie, but made new friends of Nate and Jenn, a couple our age living on the island, and even brought Nate with us on our sail over as he was headed to the same place as us anyway.  Cruising through these beautiful islands I should have been so happy but for some reason being on a boat in the Caribbean, or anywhere really, was the last place I wanted to be. Read on to find out how you can have the whole world in front of you and sometimes it’s still not enough.**

You can find the original post here. Along with a lot of wonderful comments from a lot of readers and one really rude one from some guy.  What the heck?, man.

Friday June 21, 2013

Sailing Bahamas

I was hoping I wouldn’t have to admit this, but I don’t think I can hold it in any longer, especially with all the negative hints I’ve probably been dropping lately. I’m burnt out on cruising. At this moment I don’t want to do it any more. Neither of us really do, actually. I don’t know exactly how or when it came about, when the excitement and thrills turned to dread and loathing, all I know is that I want off of this boat and out of this lifestyle. Lately every day has been a struggle, and the worst part is, I can’t even figure out why. It’s not like anything has suddenly changed, that we’re in a terrible place, or have just faced weeks and weeks of bad weather, which could leave anyone yearning for their life back on land. The situation is the same. It’s somehow me that’s now different.

To figure out where this may have started, we’d have to go way, way back. Both of us had been thoroughly enjoying our travels until Hurricane Sandy hit us last October. The storm wasn’t bad, in fact, we had a nice little hurricane party in honor of it, but right after that the weather turned to shit. We spent the next month where the highs were in the 50′s, low’s in the 30′s, and the sky was overcast every day. But, we held out hope that things would get better. Traveling from Georgia to Florida, the sun broke from the clouds, I was able to peel off a few layers, and white sand beaches with clear waters were almost within our reach. I should not have spoken too soon. That evening we had our accident, which left us in Florida’s First Coast for three months while we waited on insurance, fixed the boat, and prepared ourselves to leave once more. Christmas was spent alone, on the hard in a boat yard, but we both still held hope that things would get better.

Finally, they did. We entered the Bahamas in mid-March, to the sunny days, crystal clear waters, and white sand beaches we both had been dreaming about. Reunited with good friends we traveled the islands, caught and cooked fish and lobster for dinner, and had bonfires under the starts at night. It was perfection, everything we could have dreamed of. Holding out hope had payed off a thousand times over. From the Bahamas we crossed over to Jamaica and Cuba, still with our friends, and still having the times of our lives. There were the normal hardships, sure, living on a boat doesn’t come without it’s difficulties, but for the most part all of these initial annoyances had become second nature by now. My rage didn’t pop up when I had to move all the pots and pans from our oven to the navigation station so I could use it for cooking, or when I had to use three of the steps on the companionway to temporarily store the contents of our chill box as I searched for the strawberry jam all the way at the bottom. We both became masters at unpacking and repacking our aft cabin/storage area to reach the paper towel stored all the way at the back. It wasn’t really hard anymore, it was just….how it was now.

So this still leaves me grasping at what has changed. I can tell you that it happened in Cayman. Here we were on this beautiful little slice of paradise, and after about three days there, I could have cared less. I wasn’t interested in walking the streets or browsing through the windows. After a couple of fun days of snorkeling, I didn’t feel like getting in the water anymore. Our lives became centered, for a short time, around boat work, and I figured that it, along with our rolling anchorage, was what was putting me in my foul mood. I think the only reason we got off the boat most of the time was because our friends made plans that involved us, and even though I’d go back to my ol’ happy self while we were with them, as soon as we got back to Serendipity, the unhappiness sank back in.

Matt was going crazy in his own mind with never ending boat repairs, and this constant creaking noise that’s been in some of the floor boards ever since our accident. I think he was tired of the cost and the work related to cruising. I was just…tired. I wanted creature comforts again, I wanted to go home. One night, when Matt did his usual song and dance of not wanting to cruise, I gave in. (For those of you who don’t know, even though cruising was originally his idea, by the time we were getting ready to leave, he changed his mind and decided he didn’t want to do it anymore. He was happy with his life at home, and with all the money we’d saved up, we could have had a very comfortable lifestyle there. A condo on the 14th floor in the heart of downtown? That’s all starting to sound very nice now. But back then, it was me who still wanted to go, dragging him along, somewhat kicking and screaming at the beginning.) I never knew if these were serious request before, I’d always talk him back into the cruising lifestyle, saying that when he got older he’d regret that he didn’t travel the world, but this time, I wanted out just as bad. When he said “That’s it, I’m done with it”, as he tends to do at least every other week, I replied, “Me too, let’s go home”. But, to switch up roles, it was him that talked me into staying, stating that we’d at least get ourselves to Guatemala and re-evaluate there.

Which, while on the topic of traveling, I have another confession to make. We HATE passages. Seriously dread them. It’s not that they’re scary or overwhelming. They’re just incredibly boring and uncomfortable, and for days at a time. I didn’t mind them too much while going down the eastern seaboard. It was mostly just day traveling down the ICW, and the few hops out into the Atlantic, usually only for 24 hours, or 36 max. Were those passages comfortable? No, probably some of the worst we’ve had (damn you Northern Atlantic!), but, the excitement was there still, because every passage meant more miles south. Closer to warm weather, closer to clear waters, and closer to sandy beaches. But ever since we left the Bahamas and there are no more ‘day trips’, and neither of us are now too fond of the thought of traveling in a boat. Worst.Cruisers.Ever.

I thought a change of scenery might help, but the feelings haven’t changed since we’ve gotten to Utila. For the past few days, Matt’s been doing his best trying to cheer me up, telling me we can do whatever I want, but it still hasn’t made a difference. Have I already become jaded? It almost feels like no matter what island or location I could place myself right now, the Cook Islands in the South Pacific, or the azul waters of Greece, I wouldn’t be happy. Which, in the end, makes me feel ten times worse about the situation. How spoiled must I be to lead the life I do, and not have it be enough for me? Who knows, maybe it’s just the waves rattling my brain around too much, and I haven’t been able to think straight lately Or maybe, the world is not enough. I really hope it’s the first one, because I can’t wait to get those feelings of excitement back.*

Ragged Islands Bahamas

I feel like my life has gone from this

Chesapeake in fog

To this.

 

*Editor’s Note (a few weeks later):  We are now in Guatemala, and back to our regular selves.  Time spent in a marina, living a somewhat normal life again, has done wonders for our attitude.  I can’t say I’m still looking forward to crossing the Caribbean Sea again, but, maybe after a few more months the excitement will restore itself.  I’m also finding out from a herd of other bloggers right now, that cruising can make one…a little bipolar.  As bad as I feel for anyone else going through these emotions, I’m also glad to know I’m not the only one.

**The good news is, after all the miles we logged in 2014 with passages ranging from 3 days to 28 days, we’ve discovered that we do like sailing again.  The hard part is in fact those 36-96 hour passages where they’re not over in the blink of an eye yet you don’t have the time to settled into a groove.  Maybe not the worst cruisers ever anymore?

5.30.13 (7)

Throwback Thursday: A Three Hour Tour – Day 2: Roger, we Have Stingrays in Our Sights

Now that we’re sitting in Indiantown Marina and it’s obvious that we’re going to be here for quite a long time while we fix up Daze Off to sail, I don’t want to bore you with stories that are only related to boat work (but don’t worry, they’re still coming).   I know that’s what some of you crave, but if you’re like me, you also need a little fun in there.  A little travel and a little adventure.

So for the foreseeable future while we are doing nothing much more than boat work I will be adding a Throwback Thursday post in every week as well.  Cataloging our trip so far, giving you that needed sense of travel and adventure, and for those of you that haven’t started with us from the beginning, catch you up on some of the most important or memorable parts of our travels.

In this weeks post we have left Cuba and moved ourselves over to the Island of Grand Cayman. After just coming from Cuba (and having spent 6 weeks in the Bahamas before that) it was like we were in the land of plenty again.  Grocery stores with fully stocked shelves of things we actually recognized and needed to provision with.  Electronics stores, marine stores, and even fabric stores so we could go about adding better shade to our roasting boat.

Along with our friends Brian and Stephanie of s/v Rode Trip, we enjoyed the spoils of going out for ice cream, enjoying a pitcher of beer over the waterfront, and experiencing some of the best snorkeling we’ve ever done.  With the whole of Grand Cayman being a protected area out to 80 ft depths, the shallows were teaming with brightly colored fish for us to gaze upon for hours and days on end.

With our days as buddy boats being numbered since Brian and Stephanie had changed their plans to an Atlantic crossing this season, we knew we needed one more epic trip before the four of us parted ways.  So it came to be that one afternoon Matt and I piled some of our belongings on to Rode Trip and we left Serendipity behind on her mooring in the West Bay to head up to the North Sound with Brian and Stephanie.

The reason we were headed to the North Sound is there is an area there called Stingray City, where local fisherman had spent so long throwing scraps into the water that groups of stingrays began to gather there and soon it became a tourist destination, groups of people getting dropped off in boats to swim with them.  Since it was open to the public as long as you could get yourself there, and hey, we had two boats at our disposal. we decided to make a go of it ourselves instead of paying an insanely high price for a tour boat to take us.

The ride up from our moorings turned into an all day adventure even though we thought it would take us only three hours to get there.  Storms, currents, and a setting sun turned this afternoon outing into an unexpected slumber party. None of us were sad about it as we had no place we needed to be, and the next morning we got exactly what we came for.  Swimming with the stingrays.

You can find the original post here.

Thursday May 30, 2015

5.30.13

There was something very strange about being anchored in the North Sound last night.  It wasn’t that we had four people packed into a West Sail, getting tipsy on a game of Settlers of Catan, that’s actually quite normal, it’s that we were on a boat that was absolutely still.  It was so calming that I almost told Brian and Stephanie that this would be Rode Trip’s permanent location until Matt and I decided to make our next passage, and hey, by the way, we’ll be staying here every night until then.  Having enjoyed ourselves way too much at our little slumber party the night before, alarm clocks didn’t go off until after 8, and even then we were rubbing weary and bloodshot eyes.

Brain took the remaining leftovers from the previous night of chicken and potatoes, and tossed them around in a skillet with a few spices and an egg on top.  I really must try this thing that people call cooking.  Spirits were high as we had full stomachs and the sun was shinning.  I think the words ‘perfect day’ were uttered too soon though, and as soon as that phrase fell into the air, more dark storm clouds rolled in overhead.  We’ve noticed that when the rain actually does come, it passes by fairly quickly, so we’d just wait it out in the cabin before traveling the few miles across the sound to the shallow banks of Stingray City.  Settlers of Catan was broken out once more, without the distilled sugarcane and molasses this time, but Matt decided he wouldn’t get suckered into playing again.

5.30.13 (1)

Beautiful morning we’re having!

5.30.13 (2)

I think Settlers of Catan was more than his brain could handle.

 

When the rain finally let up, even though the sun was never looking like it was going to make it’s way out, we upped the anchor and began making our way to Stingray City.  Visually we could see right where it was by the plethora of other boats packed into one tiny area, but we did still have to keep our eyes glued to the charts since the North sound is full of shallow areas only 5 to 6 feet deep (with the sandbars around the rays at only 3 feet).  Still keeping a safe distance, we dropped the hook in a patch of sand and lowered the dinghy in the water.  Maneuvering our way through jet skis, we dropped the much smaller hook on the dinghy and fell back into the water with our snorkel gear on.  For a few minutes we floated around only staring at sand and the occasional conch, until a few dark spots began drifting our way.

5.30.13 (3)

5.30.13 (4)

It’s a stingray floating by us!

 

As soon as one came by, the rest of them began to swarm over as well.  Since we weren’t part of a group and didn’t get the ‘swimming with stingrays’ lecture, I was still a little unsure of what I could or couldn’t do around them.  Both the guys told me to keep my feet firmly planted on the ground so I wouldn’t accidentally step on one, but with the waves that were just rolling in enough from outside the sound, keeping my feet flat on the sand was much harder than I thought.  So I instead floated at the surface, watching the stingrays swim by and weave in and out of people like they were cones for a drivers test.  It wasn’t long before Matt and Brian wanted to go a step further than having the stingrays just swim around at their feet.  They wanted to feed them.  So pulling out some squid that Brian had picked up at the marine chandler the previous day, they wiggled the tasty treat between their fingers….until the stingrays came to suck it out of their hands.

I tried to hover for a bit with the camera as swarms and swarms of them came by, the whole time worried that I was going to accidentally kick one and end up with a stinger through my food.  In the end though, it wasn’t me who got hurt.  Brian had a nice little chunk taken from his hand when he let the stingray suck on it for too long.  Maybe it was more of a bite than a chunk, but it still looked pretty nasty, and we’re pretty sure he’s going to mutate into some kind of sea creature.  It didn’t keep Matt and I from feeding and playing though, and even I had my turn with a feeding, trying to hold my ground as the ray literally kept pushing me back with it’s force.  I decided I was better off with the camera than feeding them, and went back to taking pictures of the guys until one came up to me and basically suctioned itself to my back as I floated there.  Sneaky little bastards…

DSC03467

DSC03477

I’m sure I would have been stabbed by this point.

5.30.13 (7)

Here fishy, fishy, fishy…

DSC03507

Like sharks being drawn to blood.

Stingray City, Grand Cayman

There goes Brian, getting his hand eaten off.

DSC03476

But they still ended on good terms.

DSC03514

Mmmmm, finger lickin’ good.

Swimming with stingrays, Grand Cayman

stingrays in Grand Cayman

Before long, another storm started making it’s way in and we made our way back to the dinghy so we could get to Rode Trip before a downpour let out.  It seemed like once more for our trip, we had to hide out for bad weather.  I thought this was supposed to be paradise?  I guess that’s what we get for staying in the tropics at the beginning of hurricane season.  When it finally let up we started the long trek back home, making a few light bumps on the sandy bottom while trying to get to the deeper waters of the sound, but clearing any coral through the channel this time.  Once all eyes were not needed on deck anymore, I was put below with a cup of tea, soon zonked out with the wonderful memories of our trip to see the stingrays swimming in my head.

North Sound, Grand Cayman

anchored in North Sound, Grand Cayman

Stingray City, Grand Cayman

5.16.13 a

Throwback Thursday: Trindad Part III: How the West Was Done

Now that we’re sitting in Indiantown Marina and it’s obvious that we’re going to be here for quite a long time while we fix up Daze Off to sail, I don’t want to bore you with stories that are only related to boat work (but don’t worry, they’re still coming).   I know that’s what some of you crave, but if you’re like me, you also need a little fun in there.  A little travel and a little adventure.

So for the foreseeable future while we are doing nothing much more than boat work I will be adding a Throwback Thursday post in every week as well.  Cataloging our trip so far, giving you that needed sense of travel and adventure, and for those of you that haven’t started with us from the beginning, catch you up on some of the most important or memorable parts of our travels.

This week finds us in Cuba, one of our favorite stops of the whole trip so far.  After spending 10 fun filled days in Jamaica we took the 3 day sail over with our friends on s/v Rode Trip and and met back up with s/v Skebenga.  The week we spent in Cuba was absolutely amazing and we were heartbroken when our money ran out and we had to leave after spending only a week there.

Putting ourselves up in a marina in the south side of the island in the city of Cienfuegos, there was never a dull moment in our days as we hunted down all Cuba had to offer us.  It was really hard for me to pick what post to use this week as my Throwback Thursday because I want to share each and every one.  The nerve wrecking time we had checking in to the country, wondering if being American would raise any issues for us?  Or maybe the day we spent touring Cienfuegos, hunting down their $0.50 pizzas and $0.20 ice creams.  Should I choose the nice dinner we had out with Brian and Stephanie where we tried and fell in love with ropa vieja and learned of a new drink called canchanchara?

Then was our whole trip to Trinidad on a set of motor bikes.  An escapade where we traveled 50 miles, were separated from Brian and Stephanie within 5 minutes, but managed to end up at the same bed & breakfast once we arrived even though we had absolutely no plans of where we were going to stay. A place where we discovered we could get ice cold beers for the price of $0.20, or visit a night club built inside a cave.

In the end I think I will take a segment from our trip to Trinidad.  One of those days where you don’t expect much at the beginning but it turns out to be one of the best days you’ve ever had.  On this particular day we had almost literally been wrangled into taking a horseback tour of Trinidad by one of 30 guys standing on a street corner trying to peddle a package to us tourist.  “We’ll take you all through the countryside on horseback, it will be beautiful and unforgettable”, they all call from their street corners. The kind of thing you hear from everyone trying to sell whatever they can to make a living.

Despite our initial hesitation, the horseback tour through Trinidad turned out to be a highlight of our trip, showcasing the stunning landscapes and rich culture of the countryside. As we trotted along the winding paths, guided by experienced local riders, we began to appreciate the allure of horseback riding as a unique way to explore new places. This experience highlights the importance of effective horse marketing in promoting such tours. By showcasing the thrill of riding through picturesque terrains and emphasizing the unforgettable memories that can be created, businesses can capture the attention of travelers seeking authentic adventures.

The intersection of horseback riding and effective marketing strategies can lead to a thriving business opportunity. As potential customers browse options for their next getaway, engaging content that tells the story of these experiences can make all the difference. Professionals like https://www.linkedin.com/in/alec-lawler-7a11ab262, who specialize in horse marketing, understand the nuances of appealing to this audience and can provide valuable insights into crafting campaigns that resonate. By leveraging social media, engaging visuals, and partnerships with influencers, horseback tour operators can elevate their visibility and attract more tourists eager to embark on memorable equestrian adventures. In this way, horse marketing not only promotes the beauty of riding but also cultivates a thriving community around the experience.

But because Brian and Stephanie had stopped to chat to one certain gentleman the day before on their quest for fuel and thought it would be polite to entertain him for at least five minutes while he gave his spiel, we were talked into a full afternoon on horseback for the low price of $12 a person.  Complete with entrance to a private park and a stop at a local farm.  We all figured, “Why not?  It could be fun”.  And in saying yes we opened ourselves to an endless day of beauty and the authenticity of Cuba.

You can find the original post here.

Thursday May 16, 2013

5.16.13 a

(Photo courtesy of Rode Trip)

In the morning we set our alarms bright and early so we could enjoy the complementary breakfast at the casa particular before heading out to spend the morning on horseback. Getting a very quick shower under cold running water in, I ran down the steps to the restaurant to find a nice little spread waiting for us. Breakfast that morning was a mix of guava, papaya, pineapple, meat and cheese, and fresh espresso plus a very thick mango juice. I know a certain set of friends that told us the meals here in Cuba were the worst part of visiting (ahem, Tamarisk!), but this was really one of the best breakfasts I’ve ever had. Probably one of the most fresh, and definitely better for me than my usual bowl of Lucky Charms. We were going through it so fast that I even had to bring the coffee pot back to the kitchen and ask for ‘Mas cafe, por favor’.

5.16.13 (1a)

Good morning sunshine!

(Photo courtesy of Rode Trip)

5.16.13 (2a)

5.16.13 (3a)

Our room at the casa particular.

True to his word, Daniel met us on the corner of our casa particular, sharp at 9 a.m. What he also had with him, and what we weren’t expecting, was for the horses to be joining him there as well. I guess we all assumed that we’d be caravaned to a ranch at the foot of the mountains where our caballos would be waiting for us, but nope, they were here at our door. Putting on our helmets and learning the Spanish names of our horses, no Buttercups here, so of course the names were promptly forgotten, we saddled up and were ready to go.

Clomping down the cobblestone streets of Trinidad, I almost felt cool as we headed out toward the mountains, passing the locals on the street and thinking ‘That’s right. I’m pretty bad ass on my horse here while you’re down there using your two feet to get around.’ It was pretty damn awesome. Then the town gave way to a steep winding hill in which we tried to keep our horses from sliding down the sometimes slick cement, and definitely off to the side of the road from the trucks that came whizzing by us at lightning speeds. Soon though, we were on and open road, lazily ambling toward the mountains ahead as we watched farmers and crop workers leaving their little huts on the side of the road to start their daily work.

5.16.13 (4a)

5.16.13 (5a)

There were times we’d be moving forward at our lieserly pace when Daniel would crack a little whip, or whatever he had at his side, while yelling “Ya!…Ya!”, and the horses would pick up to a trot, making the ride a little bumpy and just a bit uncomfortable for most of us. Stephanie, an equestrian in her previous landlubber life, showed us how to stand up on the stirrups to give an inch or two between yourself and the saddle when the horse was riding like that. If it took a lot of bruising and possible future infertility away from me, I can only imagine the wonderful effects it had on the guys.

Along the way we met up with another couple using a different guide, but all of us headed toward the same destination. They were from Australia, and taking seven weeks to travel around the Caribbean. Their children were out of the house, they had vacation time to burn, and this is a part of the world they hadn’t been yet. They swapped stories with us on great places to visit in the Caribbean, and we told them where they could find a good 5 peso beer in town. Merging our groups together, we chatted between steps and trots, and even a few gallops until we made it to a plantation where it was time to take our first rest.

5.16.13 (11a)

5.16.13 (6a)

Set under beautiful rolling hills, which there doesn’t seem to be a lack of here in Cuba, this ranch specialized in bananas, mangoes, and sugarcane. From the amount of animals roaming around though, I’m guessing there was a little bit of meat specialized as well. Once the horses were tied up, I took a quick moment to run walk around while playing my own version of ‘Old McDonald’ in my head. I think they contained a lot of the same things, as this farm came complete with pigs, a 7 day old calf, hens, chicks, cats, but this one was run by a cute little old man named Juan. I’m pretty sure his last name wasn’t McDonald. This wasn’t a resting break though, and soon all of us were put to work, getting the sweet water out of sugarcane. After watching the demonstration by the farm workers, each of us took a turn behind the crank, running a piece of sugarcane through once, and then bending it in half a sticking it through a second time just to make sure we got out every drop. This was much easier for most other people than it was for me.

Once all six of us had our go at it, the water was mixed with lemons and rum, making a sweet little treat for us to enjoy as we enjoyed some time in the shade. Juan played a few tunes for us on his guitar, serenated Stephanie a little, and then her and Brian danced along for a bit, turning and twirling to the beat of the music. We sat down down enjoy some more tunes and tried to decipher the Spanish words being played out. Brian, who has been building his vocabulary with Rosetta Stone, was able to pick up on the chorus that was being sung of “Mi casa es su casa, mi mujere es su mujere”. Which, if translated right, means, ‘My home is your home, my woman is your woman’. These Cubans, they really are a friendly and sharing bunch.

5.16.13 (7a)

5.16.13 (12a)

5.16.13 (8a)

5.16.13 (9a)

5.16.13 (10a)

I may have had to put all my weight into it.
5.16.13 (13a)5.16.13 (14a)

Juan, trying to sweep Stephanie off her feet.

Back on to our horses, before we could find out what else Juan wanted to share with us, we were on our way to the waterfall. This was the two hour rest stop we had been told about the previous day, and the $6 fee that was being payed by our leader and we had to keep our mouths shut about. Changing from open air and fields, we transitioned into a tree covered forest where the horses were tied to posts, we were pointed in the direction of the falls, and told to be back in two hours.

When we came out to the falls and I saw there was a nice pool underneath for swimming, just like back in Jamaica, I cursed Matt for making me remove my swimsuit from the small backpack we both shoved all our things into for the trip. “When would you possibly need your swimsuit there?”, he asked. I don’t know why he can’t get this through his head. I am always.right. Since none of us did in fact have our suits on us we decided that underwear would suffice, or a tank top and underwear in my case. Stripping off our clothes we placed them down on the surrounding rocks and got ready to jump in.

The guys, taking cues from one of the locals that ran a drink stand just next to the fall, were quick to scramble up the rocks to make a jump in from dizzying heights. Watching them plop in one by one, I was pretty sure that the slick climb alone would kill me and I was much better off only jumping the three feet from next to the pool. The water was cool and fresh, and we divided our time between swimming beneath the trickle of a fall, and sunning ourselves on the rocks. When our time was up we hiked the trail back to our waiting horses and guide to begin the trip back home. Not however, without a stop at the ranch once more for lunch.

5.16.13 (19a)

5.16.13 (17a)

Thanks, but I’ll just watch from here!

5.16.13 (16a)

5.16.13 (18a)

Not part of the packaged deal, but still pretty low at only $10, we were served one of the best meals I’ve ever had. Anywhere. So much for crappy food in Cuba. (Ahem, TAMARISK!!) First was a bowl of veggie soup and a key lime on the side for an extra kick of flavor, and wow, just that little touch makes a huge difference! Then I was served a heaping plate of fresh salad greens, rice, and perfectly cooked and flavored shrimp. Dessert was fresh banana and mango, products of the very plantation we were sitting at. It was one of those meals where I should have put my fork down long before I did, but I could not keep myself from heaping all the delicious food into my mouth.

One more tour around the grounds to say goodbye to all my little animal friends, play with a couple of kittens, and take what is possibly the cutest photo I will ever capture, it was time to leave once more. Ready to fall into a food coma, I was glad that the horses knew their way home by heart and I had to do little more than keep myself upright with my eyes open, which didn’t become very hard considering all the beauty surrounding us. Daniel also took it easy on us after our big meal and kept the horses at a walk, although after 20-30 minutes, Brian and I decided we were ready for some action and would command our horses into a gallop and race each other back and forth ahead of the group.

5.16.13 (20a)

5.16.13 (21a)

5.16.13 (22a)

Too soon it felt like the horses were exerting themselves in the daytime heat, bringing us up the hill that led back into town and toward our casa particular. It was time to gather our belongings and start the trip back home. We may have only had the previous evening to explore the town that we spent a bit of time and effort getting to, but I think we were all very happy with how we ended up spending it. For an adventure that none of us initially wanted to take, our day on horseback out in the mountains and fields of Trinidad is now one of the highlights on our trip, not just in Cuba, but since leaving Michigan.

5.16.13 (23a)

5.16.13 (24a)

(Photo courtesy of Rode Trip)

waterfall group shot (8)

Throwback Thursday: Something’s Going Down like a Waterfall

Now that we’re sitting in Indiantown Marina and it’s obvious that we’re going to be here for quite a long time while we fix up Daze Off to sail, I don’t want to bore you with stories that are only related to boat work (but don’t worry, they’re still coming).   I know that’s what some of you crave, but if you’re like me, you also need a little fun in there.  A little travel and a little adventure.

So for the foreseeable future while we are doing nothing much more than boat work I will be adding a Throwback Thursday post in every week as well.  Cataloging our trip so far, giving you that needed sense of travel and adventure, and for those of you that haven’t started with us from the beginning, catch you up on some of the most important or memorable parts of our travels.

In this weeks installment we have left the Bahamas behind for a lusher landscape.  Spending just under 48 hours on the water we sailed the 275 miles from Great Inagua Bahamas to Port Antonio Jamaica.  Meeting up with our friends Ren & Ashley on s/v Nila Girl and having made the sail over with Brian and Stephanie on s/v Rode Trip, we also made new friends in the form of three guys in their 30’s.  Jason and Piers, two brothers sailing a Sundeer 56 named s/v Tamarisk, and their friend Jimmy who was along for a few weeks of fun.

Wanting to check out some of the sites of Jamaica, the ten of us piled into a van one morning in search of waterfalls and excitement.  You can find the original post here.

Wednesday May 1, 2013

5.1.13

I was finally able to get close to consecutive eight hours of sleep, but yet again we had plans and sleeping in was not one of them. Having talked about it since we first guided Ren and Ashley toward Jamaica instead of Cuba on their way through the Caribbean, the six of us planned on using the time there together to go see the Blue Mountains and some waterfalls. While taking our long walk yesterday we were approached by dozens of people trying to sell us on trips but unfortunately we never knew how legitimate any of them were.

Brian and Ren were sent on a mission that morning to find us the best deal and when we met up for coffee around 10:30 they said they found a guy that could take the 7 of us on a packaged deal up through the mountains, to Reach Falls to do some swimming, and stopping at Boston Beach on the way back for food and relaxing. The total cost was $170 or just under $25 per person, plus additional cost to get into the falls. When I realized the bus sat 10 and there were only 7 of us I was quick to suggest that we invite the guys from Tamarisk to join us, thinking we could bring the general price down for everyone. I wasn’t inviting them just so we could save money, I genuinely like hanging out with them, but I also really like saving money.

We found Jason on the stairwell once more trying to connect to the internet and invited him along. He was finishing up some business, but since the bus wasn’t coming to get us until just after noon it was still enough time for him to finish his work and round up the other boys. With everyone rushing back to their boats to get ready, we were soon meeting back up in front of the marina with a cooler full of ice that was desperately seeking beer.

Piling all of us into the van we made a stop at a convenience store to stock up on Red Strip, Dragon Stout, and Ting for the expectant Ashley. Continuing on, the buildings of Port Antonio fell away and we were cruising down a two lane road with grassy farms on one side and the Caribbean Sea on the other. The sights were beautiful and it was really relaxing to watch them pass by in a motored vehicle instead of on foot.

There was one stop along the way before we reached the falls and it was the Blue Lagoon. I had originally thought this was the place where the movie of the same name was filmed, but a little check on IMDB later showed that was actually filmed in Fiji. This one we were visiting did still have it’s claim to fame though, by Jacques Cousteau’s 170 foot dive in it. While most of us were just happy to stare at the pretty colors of the water from a distance, Piers, Nick, and Matt quickly had their shirts off and were swimming in what they said was surprisingly cool water.

It was a short stop, so they were only in a few minutes before returning to shore to dry off. While waiting for them, us girls browsed the stalls of jewelry and other knick-knacks for sale. Knowing there is no extra space on the boat for frivolous items, coupled with the fact that I don’t know if I’d ever get any use out of these said items, I politely turned down every seller that held something up to me with a hopeful smile. There was still plenty of business for them to be had though, as Ashley spiced up her outfit with a red coffee bean necklace, and Piers now had a new Jamaican flag to decorate his cabin with.

5.1.13 (1)

I love how these boats seem to be floating on air.

5.1.13 (2)

5.1.13 (3)

Matt & Piers taking a dip in the Blue Lagoon.

 

It didn’t take too long to get to the falls from there, or maybe we were all just having so much fun while talking about our sailing lives with cold roadies in our hands that time seemed to speed up a little. It was time to suit up and head down to the falls. Our driver told us to follow the well marked path down which would lead us straight to the falls. At the bottom there would be a guide that could walk us up the falls if we wanted, for a tip, or we could try doing it ourselves although it is not as much recommended.

Finding the cement staircase with guardrails on the side (what is this, America?) we walked down to see a wide beautiful waterfall in front of us. It wasn’t too high, maybe 20-25 feet, but all it’s rushing water let to a delicate pool below that looked like the perfect place to swim while admiring the falls. We were all a little tentative to get in the water, only because it was much colder than the warm bath waters of the sea we’re used to, but Jimmy took the first plunge and we were all soon behind. There was a spot off to the side for jumping in the pool, and since it was only about 15 feet up and half the height of our jump at Dean’s Blue Hole, most of us were off it without a second thought. Stephanie took a little coaxing, but she too enjoyed the thrill of momentary zero-g.

There was a cave under the fall that most of the guys pushed their way past the barreling water and inside right after they made their initial jump in the water. Then it was time to have the guide bring us up the stream. Climbing the mossy side, most of us had opted out of wearing shoes since we figured they’d just get in the way, although with the amount of times I almost lost balance and face planted into rocks, I think they may have been worth the inconvenience. I brought up the rear, quite far behind actually, and didn’t get to enjoy the sights so much on the way up since I was constantly looking at the placement of my feet and where they would go next. I finally caught up to everyone though, due to obstacles like climbing over downed trees and squeezing through rock crevices, and then it was time to go back down….through the water.

Our guide had deposited us at an area of the stream where the water ran down through a cave/tunnel before coming back out…and we were about to go through it. He gave instructions to the guys on how to get through and helped us girls down since it was about an eight foot drop. I was let down first and sat inside while I waited for Ashley to follow behind me. There were still spots for the light to shine through and it was actually quite wide. Getting tired of waiting I waded over to where I thought the exit was, and just when I was about to make the plunge to get out, Jimmy popped up in the cave, having come through it backwards. He showed me the way out and how to get down the next few obstacles where I was able to impress him with a belly flop into the next standing pool of water.

The rest of the way back down was much easier, floating through the open pools and walking over stones in some shallower areas. When we got back to the fall Matt was talked into jumping off the top of it, and although I was not worried about him and the distance to the bottom, the slippery wet moss at the top did make me worry that he might have a less than graceful fall. This guy is impervious to danger though and was back to swimming in the pool at the bottom just a few seconds later. I once again made the shorter jump off the side and made my way across the pool to finally check out the cave for myself. There was quite a current pushing you away as you tried to get in, but basically hanging on the back of Ashley as she went in before me, I was able to pull myself in as well.

This cave was much bigger but also much darker than the first one we had been in. Matt lead us through a path in the cave that led us out the side of the cave where there was barely a trickle of water coming down over us. I was a little disappointed at this since I expected to burst back through the powerful opening we came in, but maybe it’s better because that route would most likely have led to a black eye , which I’m pretty good at getting. Back at the landing everyone was enjoying their drinks we brought down from the van and we watched the sun begin to lower and shoot brilliant yellow colors over the falls. Before we left, Jason set up his fancy camera equipment and took a great group shot of all of us.

hiking trails Reach Falls (4)

guide talking, Reach Falls (5)

(Above two photos courtesy of Rode Trip)

5.1.13 (6)

5.1.13 (7)

Go for it Jimmy!

Jessica & Piers - waterfall (7a)

waterfall group shot (8)

(Above two photos courtesy of Jason Windebank)

5.1.13 (9)

 Getting ourselves back into the van we made our way to Boston Beach for some eats and relaxing.  It wasn’t quite what I expected when we got there.  I was thinking that something named beach would be a little more…beachy.  This was just a patch of grass with a path leading down to a rocky waterfront.  It was fine though since there were no plans to lay out on sandy beaches or get in the water, and it was still  a good place for watching a sublime sunset reflect off the rocks in the distance.

Stopping first at the food stands on the road we ordered items like jerk chicken and pork for dinner with sides of festival, a sweet slightly fried kind of breadstick, and brought our food to a grassy patch to enjoy it.  Around us were locals trying to sell jewelry and trinkets, and I finally broke down and bought a bracelet made of sea root, after trying on every one he had to find one that could fit my tiny wrist.  We were all tired and happy and when the food was gone we climbed back into the van for the ride home while watching the sky turn pink and orange out of our windows. But you know us…our night was not over yet..

5.1.13 (10)

5.1.13 (11)

5.1.13 (12)

4.12.13 (5)

Throwback Thursday: I am a Nice Shark, Not a Mindless Eating Machine

Now that we’re sitting in Indiantown Marina and it’s obvious that we’re going to be here for quite a long time while we fix up Daze Off to sail, I don’t want to bore you with stories that are only related to boat work (but don’t worry, they’re still coming).   I know that’s what some of you crave, but if you’re like me, you also need a little fun in there.  A little travel and a little adventure.

So for the foreseeable future while we are doing nothing much more than boat work I will be adding a Throwback Thursday post in every week as well.  Cataloging our trip so far, giving you that needed sense of travel and adventure, and for those of you that haven’t started with us from the beginning, catch you up on some of the most important or memorable parts of our travels.

This week still finds us traveling the Bahamas with our good friends Brian and Stephanie on s/v Rode Trip.  After a few very enjoyable weeks in Long Island Bahamas the 4 of us decided to trek to the lesser traveled island group of the Jumentos and Ragged Islands.  Very private, beautiful, and filled with some of the best coral and fishing we’ve come across in our travels.

Having visited three islands in the chain already we were indecisive of where to stop next but found ourselves tucked into the beautiful little treasure that is known as Double Breasted Cay.  Surrounded by the clearest and most tantalizing waters we’ve ever seen, we found out after our first afternoon there that it would be wise to keep out of them.  We were sharing our anchorage with a group of sharks.

You can find the original post here.  To see the post on Picturesque Double Breasted Cay, with more photos of this beautiful anchorage, click here.

Friday April 12, 2013

4.12.13

Even though Buena Vista Cay had been previously described to us as ‘not to miss’, we decided the empty coral heads and lack of challenging walking trails were not enough to keep us there and we hauled anchor once more. Slowly making our way down to Ragged Island and the only settlement of Duncan Town, we thought we’d stop at one more cay on our way since we were in no real rush. Our biggest goal in mind now was not which island held the prettiest beach or a good pit for bonfires, but one that would shelter us from the terrible swells that would constantly rock our boats back and forth all day and all night. One of the days we had been on the radio hailing each other while traveling, we were overheard by another cruising boat a little further south that mentioned they were at Double Breasted Cay along with a few other boats and the swells were not bad there. This boat was now headed toward Hog Cay which is right next to Ragged Island, and we were invited to a beach get together should we decide to continue on the extra 15 miles south. Since we chose to visit the Jumentos and Raggeds mostly for their seclusion, a harbor full of other boats did not sound tempting so we planned to anchor that night at Racoon Cay which is the island just north of Double Breasted. It had a large cove that hooked around and we were sure the swells could not wrap around it and reach us. (I know this sounds like a geography lesson, but these islands are literally within 3-4 miles of each other and I feel the odd need to list them all)

Stephanie had listened to the weather on their SSB that morning, and according to weather guru Chris Parker, winds were supposed to be 17-20 knots out of the east. Coasting under the protection of Buena Vista Cay still (see, there I go again) we did see those light winds, but once out of the shelter, they settled into the 20-25 knots that we had been experiencing all week. This was fine as we were used to it and I still liked the speed that would carry us to our next destination as soon as possible. I should quickly mention here that one of the reasons we also decided on Raccoon Cay was that the harbor was easily accessible from the banks, and since we hadn’t broken our ‘no engine’ streak yet, we didn’t want to mess with all the necessary tacking to get into the impossibly hidden harbor for Double Breasted. Or at least, that’s how it looks on a map when you know it will require at least 18 turns and sail trims to get into it. On our way to our intended anchorage for the night the winds not only picked up to the 25-30 range, but began shifting so that we were pointing further and further into it. Not only did this make it harder to sail, but it also looked as if our spot we had picked out at Raccoon was not looking as protected as we thought it would. With a quick talk on the radio on the radio to Rode Trip we decided that even though it would be tricky to get to, Double Breasted probably would be the best place for us.

Matt and I had already been having issues at this point while sailing where our self tailing winch that was no longer self tailing had gotten the line wrapped in it to the point we had to tighten the line to another source, take apart the winch, free the line, and put it all back together. I was getting to the point that I was happy with our no engine streak, we proved that we could get through multiple days of sailing under sail power alone, but I was ready for it to end if necessary. Stubborn Matt on the other hand was ready to make those 18 tacks if necessary since, as he claimed, ‘What does it matter if it takes an extra hour?, We don’t have any place we need to be.’. Mmmm hmmm. So while we were on tack #4 avoiding a 3 ft sandbar just to our boat north and I accidentally let the line for the traveler slip out of my hand where it flew through the cleat and up on the deck causing the boom to now be permanently stuck on the port side until the line could be retrieved and fed through again (something I tried to do, but was quickly yelled at to get back in the cockpit even though I was on the high side), we decided to stop fighting fate or nature or whatever was causing our bad luck, and turn the engine on after 100 miles and three anchorages without it. The streak was now over.

I was even happier not to be messing with sails once the wind began gusting into the mid 30′s. Even though the mood was a little tense I could not help but look at Matt and say, I thought that 17-20 knot winds would be a lot less gusty than this. That Chris Parkers full of shit man. (Do you get the movie quote?) Luckily I was able to wrangle a big smile out of him too. The bay ended up being empty of other boats which was a nice relief to us, and we anchored Serendity in ten feet of some of the most beautiful water we have ever seen. Even though it had been a slightly stressful twelve mile trip, it was still early in the afternoon and we were not ready to spend the rest of the day sitting on the settee and watching tv. Matt and Brian were excited to have new coral heads to check out for fish and Stephanie and I were eager to check out a new beach. The boys set off in one dinghy while us girls took the other, me with an ice cold Sands in my hand since, hey, it had been a stressful morning, so much one of  the boys notice it and recommended me to check the online Biscotti Cannabis Strain review by fresh bros.

Greeting us right on the shore of the beach where we landed the dinghy was a fire pit, but a much better set up than the one we had just used at Buena Vista. This one came complete with wooden benches and logs to sit on, along with a table made of milk crates and decorated with plastic owls. A little out of the norm, but entertaining nonetheless. We hiked a trail while barefooted which was not a good idea, so soon we quarantined ourselves to the sandy beach.

Along the shore were dozens and dozens of conch shells. Nothing new, there were literally hundreds littering the beaches of the last few cays we’d been to, but something about these ones made Stephanie very excited. These ones were not left overs from fishers after a clean with holes in the top of the shell where they had cut the conch away from it. These shells were untouched, as if the conchs were using them as hermit crabs do, willingly leaving a perfectly good one behind to move into a bigger or better one. Soon she was stacking them up in her arms, excitedly claiming that she could make horns from them or save them as gifts for family (sorry if I’ve ruined an early surprise for anyone). It got to the point where they were toppling out of her arms and I thought I might need to have an intervention for her. I’m not sure how it would go, but I think it would start something like “Stephanie, I really care about you…but I think you have a problem”. Scooping up just a couple myself, I mean, I do want a horn too, we piled 10 of them back in the dingy to head back to the ‘Dip, where we intercepted the guys on the way back from their fishing adventure. While we had been safely strolling beaches, albeit Stephanie’s new addiction, the guys regaled us with a tale of how they had a shark encounter while fishing and Brian flew out of the water and onto some rocks while Matt heaved himself back into the dinghy. It hadn’t stopped their fishing adventure though, they just moved to a new spot, and were still able to bring back a good number of fish for cleaning.

Since Brian decided he had too many fish and the lion-fish which was on his spear would probably not make it’s way to the dinner table, he flung it back into the water to let it be eaten by other fish once it’s poison’s had worn off. It hadn’t even been able to float away for five seconds when we saw a dark shadow rush past and snatch it up. It had been moving so fast that although we hadn’t been able to get a good look we assumed it could be nothing other than a shark. Sure enough, as if it knew where it’s last meal just came from, it sped back towards Serendipity and began circling the side we were all standing on. Now we could make out that it definitely was a shark, probably just over two meters long. This being our first encounter, we were all excited to watch it zip around at lightning speeds and dart from one side of the boat to the other. Soon it had a buddy join in and we thought we’d turn it into some kind of dinner theater. With all the fresh fish on the boat that need to be cleaned, we brought out the cutting board and fillet knife, ready to throw the scraps overboard and watch the sharks go at them.

Each time some guts or a head flew into the water the two sharks would race toward the surface and snatch it up before it even had a second to submerge. After the first two fish, we had the bright idea of tying the remaining body of one of our catches to a string and dangling it just off the side of the boat so we could get them to come in even closer and get a really good view of them. Even though the waters in this cove are crystal clear, there is constantly a 10-15 knot breeze blowing through causing ripples on the surface and obscuring anything below. With the string tied around the backbone of the fish and Stephanie and I stationed on each side with our cameras, Matt slowly brought the fish down to the surface of the water. I don’t know why we thought it would be any different than when we threw the scraps 10 feet out from the boat and the sharks still managed to be there within a half second, because this fish had barely touched the water before one of the sharks whizzed by, cutting the string with it’s razor sharp teeth and speeding off with the fish. We all sat there dumbfounded for a second with our mouths agape and thinking ‘Did that just really happen?’. Then we all broke out into a nervous laughter and made jokes about how we were definitely not going to dangle our toes in the water now.

The close up of the shark was enough for us to get a much better look at it and determine that we thought it was a black tipped shark. There actually are a few kinds of sharks in the Caribbean that don’t pay much attention to humans and shouldn’t cause worry, such as nurse sharks and lemon sharks, but black tips are not one of them. They are known to be aggressive and unpredictable. Now that water that had been looking so tantalizing earlier, calling my name to go for some refreshing dips, was now not looking so friendly. The most beautiful bay we’d come across yet in the Bahamas, and now I couldn’t even go for a swim in it. It was somewhat of a happy trade off though, to get to experiencing a couple of sharks up close and personal. They had no intent to leave us alone anytime soon, and so we kept doing whatever we could do to bring them close to the boat, throwing over scraps of lunch meat, leftover lobster and contemplating Georgie (aka: shark bait). I don’t know what their thoughts were on us, but one of the sharks actually did begin to show aggression a few times when it would swim cautiously toward our dinghy that was tied to the stern, and then smack it’s tail against the hypalon side before rushing away. It was then that we decided to call it a night. Brian and Stephanie carefully got back in their dinghy and she was even allowed to choose one of her conch shells to take back to Rode Trip with her. The rest were tossed over board, possibly in the direction that the sharks were still sitting. You know, … just to see what they would do.

4.12.13 (1)

To help you further your geographic education.

4.12.13 (2)

4.12.13 (3)

4.12.13 (4)

4.12.13 (5)

3.30.13 (5)

Throwback Thursday: Dean’s Blue Hole

Now that we’re sitting in Indiantown Marina and it’s obvious that we’re going to be here for quite a long time while we fix up Daze Off to sail, I don’t want to bore you with stories that are only related to boat work (but don’t worry, they’re still coming).   I know that’s what some of you crave, but if you’re like me, you also need a little fun in there.  A little travel and a little adventure.

So for the foreseeable future while we are doing nothing much more than boat work I will be adding a Throwback Thursday post in every week as well.  Cataloging our trip so far, giving you that needed sense of travel and adventure, and for those of you that haven’t started with us from the beginning, catch you up on some of the most important or memorable parts of our travels.

In this week’s installment we had finally made it to the Bahamas after leaving St. Augustine.  Getting set to make the Gulf Stream crossing we waited a whole week for a good weather window to do so, but before we knew it we had made a 245 mile, 2.5 day journey from West Palm Beach to Nassau and checked ourselves into a new country.  Hopping down to the Exumas we met back up with our buddy boat Rode Trip and jetted over to Long Island where we made a new set of friends, champion free divers, Ren and Ashley Chapman.

Doing what they do best, they brought us out to their free diving training grounds of Dean’s Blue Hole to show off their skills and give us a few lessons.

You can find the original post here.

Saturday March 30, 2013

3.30.13

Today was the day we were going to Dean’s Blue Hole, the deepest in the world at over 600 feet, with two world champion free divers, Ren and Ashley Chapman. Having just met us yesterday, they graciously offered to cart the four of us with them down to the hole where they go to practice almost daily. Loading up our masks, fins, snorkels and wet-suits, we crammed everything into the trunk of their car, and then proceeded to pack the four of us into the back seat. The drive was only 30 minutes, and Stephanie offered to sit in Brian’s lap while I squeezed into the middle between them and Brian. Speeding down Queen’s Highway to the south end of the island, we’d go for miles without passing anything at all, and then a few houses here and there. For being such a large island it only has about three towns that are heavily inhabited, and between them seem to be just a few small shack type restaurants. The drive seemed to go by fairly quick, with all of us still interested in the roadside scenery, but as soon as we pulled up to the hole the four of us spilled out of the back seat and went to grab our gear from the trunk.

Matt was the first one in the water, throwing on his fins and slinging the camera over his shoulder while the rest of us stood on shore and chatted. I was the next to gear up and go in, and after Brian and Stephanie took a little hike around the surrounding cliffs, they too made their way into the hole. What I had originally expected from it and what it turned out to be were completely different. I don’t know why, but I had assumed you’d be able to see far into the depths of the hole, almost as if it would be backlit for my viewing pleasure. What it turned out to be instead was a big black hole into which you could see nothing. Overall I think this helped with my swimming over it since you couldn’t even get close to telling how deep it was which eased my fears of falling into a black abyss, but as they say, you can just as easily drown in 30 feet of water as you can 300. So back and forth I went swimming across it, occasionally trying to dive down a little bit to get a better glimpse of the fish swimming around. Ren and Ashley were on the clock with a few students learning the art of free diving, so while they weren’t hanging around with us while we swam around, giving tips on how to dive a little deeper, they didn’t mind if we swam all over, as long as we were not to loud or distracting the students trying to dive.

Here’s a little set-up on what goes on there. Just in case I’ve gotten a few of the facts wrong, feel free to correct me, Ren or Ash. In the middle of the hole is a large platform with weighted lines running from one end to the other, and a pulley system at one of the edges. While teaching or practicing, a line will be lowered to a certain depth in the water with a weight at the end of it. After staying on the surface of the water for 30-60 minutes to acclimatize to the water and work on breathing techniques, the diver will work their way down the line, tapping the weight to mark they had gone to the desired depth, and then slowly work their way back up the line. Each time they come back up they need to give assurance that they are ok, and after a few minutes, they’ll go back down again. This is done over and over, each time with the weighted marker going further into the water and causing the diver to have to go a little deeper to reach it. I think (don’t quote me) that after enough general practicing like this has to be done, the diver doesn’t need to walk themselves up and down the line, but will just run one hand along it as a guide and they freely dive down. All of this is done without any kind of oxygen supply, just a single breathe taken by the diver.

Matt made a few attempts on his own, near the side of the hole and not the line, just to see how his skills were. He was able to touch a little ledge before the bottom really dropped off, and that’s supposed to be about 30 feet deep. I’m not very good with equalizing, my ears will always start to pop and I haven’t been able to work out that issue, so at the moment I’m about a 10-15 foot diver. When we tired ourselves out we went to sit on the platform, and Ren demonstrated a few breathing techniques, simulating a 200 foot dive. It was very impressive, and as easy as they say it is to learn, I have a feeling I won’t be diving deeper than 20 feet for a long, long time. We also got into a conversation about flippers since Ren was wearing a kind that we had never seen before. They were extremely long, looked to be made of carbon fiber, and had booties that laced up around your feet. When Matt asked to try them out, a mass flipper exchange began with all the guys trading around their flippers to see how they were different from their own. Ren’s were very long and flexible, Matt’s were medium and hard, and Brian’s were short but flexible. The real fun came when one of the students visiting from Austria, Jacob, lent the guys his practice fins, which looked like one big flipper. Matt had a blast with those, swimming quickly back and forth over the hole and performing dolphin kicks.

Stephanie and I sat off to the side of the platform, her soaking up the sun while I practiced diving board-esque dives off the back side of the platform. Then it came time for something I knew I couldn’t avoid. Something I had said earlier in the day that I would do, and there was no backing out now. With Matt and Brian next to me we jumped back in the water and made our way over to the side of the large cliff that hung over the blue hole. We were all going to make the 30 foot jump from the top down into the water. Down at the platform it didn’t look very high at all and I knew the water was deep enough to support the jump. But as I climbed barefoot higher and higher up the jagged coral, that water was starting to look very far away. Once I got all the way to the top I looked over and got nauseous, unsure if I’d be able to go through with it. Brian was the first to jump off, in a spot about 5 feet lower than I was. He plunged into the water and then surfaced again, swimming back to the platform where everyone was still sitting. Although it took a moment of contemplating, Matt was the next to go, following the same pattern. Now I stood at the top alone, my heart thundering in my chest, but knowing I could not face the shame of walking back down the hill. Taking a deep breath, I knew there was enough water below to support me and no rocks to accidentally bounce off on my way down. I leaped off the side where the feeling of vertigo only lasted for a second before I caught control and remembered to go in with my toes pointing, and then splashed into the cool deep water.

Coming to the surface I expected a hero’s applause from everyone who had just witnessed my death defying jump, but all I got were a few claps from my friends and a sedated “Oh hey, she jumped” from anyone else watching. I was still on top of the world though, as this had gone much better than my rope swing jump into a river about ten years ago, something Matt’s still surprised I survived.* Almost tempted to do it a second time just because I could, I instead opted to sun myself on the platform before swimming back to shore so Stephanie and I could beach comb while the guys continued to swim and dive. In the early afternoon Ren and Ashley piled us back into their car for the ride home, but not before stopping for the island’s best conch burgers along the way. I told Matt we could not leave the Bahamas before I had the chance to get one. The food was delicious, the company was great, and I was so worn out that I didn’t even make it to ten o’clock before passing out.

3.30.13 (1)

3.30.13 (2)

3.30.13 (3)

3.30.13 (4)

3.30.13 (5)

*When Matt and I were about 18, we went with a group of friends to a rope swing that dropped you into a river. Instead of jumping from a tree that was right next to or hanging over the water though, the tree we were using was on a 20 foot bluff above the water, also set back about 20 feet from it. When it was my turn I grabbed onto the rope, took my feet off the tree stump that was giving me my backwards momentum, and went flying towards the water. Except, I never made it that far. As soon as I had gotten to the point that I was past the bluff but not yet to the water, my arms couldn’t hold on any longer, and I let go, dropping 20 feet to the ground below. I landed on my butt in hard sand, a little shocked, but otherwise ok. Knowing that this incident might scare me from rope swings for the rest of my life, I got back up to do it a second time. And the same thing happened!! This time I made it into about six inches of water though, still on my butt in soft sand and small stones. Once again I was not injured, but I had not been able to jump from high places into water since then.

3.4.13 (4)

Throwback Thursday: Instant Cruiser – Just Add Water

Now that we’re sitting in Indiantown Marina and it’s obvious that we’re going to be here for quite a long time while we fix up Daze Off to sail, I don’t want to bore you with stories that are only related to boat work (but don’t worry, they’re still coming). I know that’s what some of you crave, but if you’re like me, you also need a little fun in there. A little travel and a little adventure.

So for the foreseeable future while we are doing nothing much more than boat work I will be adding a Throwback Thursday post in every week as well. Cataloging our trip so far, giving you that needed sense of travel and adventure, and for those of you that haven’t started with us from the beginning, catch you up on some of the most important or memorable parts of our travels.

This week we wrap up our work with Serendipity after her accident and our way too long of a stay in St. Augustine. Don’t get us wrong, we really did love that town. You’d hear us say over and over “If we had to be stuck anywhere, we’re glad it was here”. But for an accident that we never planned on (are they ever?) and two months more of work than we expected after it did, we were ready to get cruising down to the Bahamas.

You can find the original post here.

Monday March 4, 2013

3.4.13

Today is the day we have been waiting for, for three months. To the date. Today we finally went back in the water. Granted, we knew the accident was bad when it happened, but when we arrived to St. Augustine Marine Center back on December 4th, we honestly thought we’d be hauled out and put right back in after a quick survey. After receiving the damage report we were thinking, “Ok, this is really bad, we might be out for two to four weeks.” And then we sat and sat and sat. Shortly after being out of the water for one whole month, we finally got the claim approved by our insurance company (they were still swamped with Hurricane Sandy claims), and work finally began. We thought it could be done in two weeks since we had already started a lot of the projects ourselves. Then the keel came off and we found out that bolts needed to be replaced and there was no one in the area that could do the job. From that point it didn’t matter when the rest of the projects were finished, we weren’t going anywhere until the bolts were replaced and the keel was put back on. When we had hope that we could fly someone out to do the job, we forged on with other projects. The engine and transmission were taken out to be fixed, and the rudder was sent off to be straightened. Matt fiberglassed all the tabbing on the port side salon. The bilge and engine bay were painted.

Although we had a great experience with anyone that worked directly for the marine center, there were a few issues with vendors, and work on our boat kept getting pushed back and back. When I got back from Arizona at the end of January, I honestly thought we’d be splashed and moving by the middle of the month. We had canceled the guy flying out to repair the keel bolts and instead went with the owner of the boat yard next door who took on the project and did it fantastically. There was the long wait for the transmission to be repaired that we had not been expecting, and then once we were finally being put back together, the fact that the new bushing for our rudder did not fit. Eventually after a lot of blood and sweat, but surprisingly no tears, we’re finally put back together and ready to go. Three months behind our original intended scheduled, and now six weeks behind all of our friends who have been enjoying the white sand beaches of the Bahamas for at least that amount of time. We’re finally ready to go and join.

Although it’s been spread out through months and multiple posts, you might be wondering what work went into Serendipity while we were here. Taken straight from the estimate being sent to our insurance company, this is what kept us on the hard for three months:

  • Remove max prop
  • Remove shaft
  • Remove strut
  • Rudder shaft repair
  • Glass repair A.) Rudder B.) Interior bonds C.) Stern tube and strut fairing D.) Fuel tank drained and removed
  • Lift to remove rudder and keel
  • Remove and replace multiple keel bolts
  • Lift to install keel and rudder
  • Repair bushing
  • Boat Fiberglass Repair
  • Align motor and shaft
  • Strut and shaft reinstalled
  • Reinstall max prop
  • Pull & inspect transmission
  • Rebuild transmission
  • Reinstall transmission
  • Install new motor mounts
  • Bottom paint, one coat over entire bottom, second coat on repairs
  • Replace cutlas bearing
  • Replace glass on two panels
  • Inspect Rigging

Over the weekend we had tentative plans to launch around 12:30, as close as we could get to slack tide. The river we’re on has a terrible current, and I’ve watched and heard of multiple boats bang up against the side while making their approach into or departure from the well. That’s why I always recommend people to bring custom branded water to avoid dehydration on sea. Having been out of the water for three months, as well as not even being as skilled as some of the captains who have beat up their boats here, we didn’t want to get swept away or banged up our first day back in the water. After talking with the yard manager, he penciled us in after a catamaran getting hauled out for a survey, and said that if it didn’t go over time they’d have an hour available to get us back in the water. Hiding out in the salon for the better part of the morning, and occasionally peeking out to keep an eye on the cat that was being surveyed, we received a knock on our hull, telling us to be ready right after lunch because we were going in. As the minutes ticked by, I could feel myself getting stage fright and I could feel it growing. We’d never had to move our boat out of a boat well before, it was always done by the marina, and we had never tried doing it in an area with such strong currents. In front of a crowd no less.

We tied the fenders to the side and waited for the lift to come. Georgie was locked below to make sure she wasn’t trotting around deck while all this was going on, although at the first hint of a loud noise she’s usually hidden in the aft cabin anyway. As promised, the lift pulled up at thirty minutes to one. We climbed down the ladder for the last time and unattached it from the boat while the large sling was wrapped around the bottom of Serendipity. Lifting her up and removing all the jackstands, she was slowly moved away from her home and closer to the boat well. She was lowered down with ease, and just as she was floating, we were allowed to climb back on. Firing up the engine, everything was looking good and after not having a slip assigned to us we chose the one that was at a 90 degree angle from where we were currently sitting, and would require the least amount of turns. Backing out, the small current that was flowing through did begin to catch us a little bit and begin turning us ways we did not want to go, but Matt quickly got it under control and while putting us into forward and giving it a lot of gas, began to move us with ease toward our intended dock. The men working the travel lift were already waiting to catch our lines, and within moments we were neatly tied off. Floating once more, as we had been waiting so long and patiently for.

We’re hoping to leave on Wednesday, after we finish a few last minute things around town. The weather is looking too nasty to jump out and head straight to the Bahamas like we wanted, so instead we’ll be making our way south via the ICW once more, getting to Lake Worth and making a jump across once we get there and find a weather window. But I am so excited to be back in the water, we are cruisers once more! Or will be, once we take care of that enormous bill waiting for us at the service desk and are given the OK to leave.

3.4.13 (1)

3.4.13 (2)

3.4.13 (3)

3.4.13 (4)