Category: Living Aboard

We made it! We arrived at Lady last night around 6pm, proceeded to unload the car and had takeout delivery by 8:30pm. The nice marina folks checked Lady’s interior for us this week, so we knew her interior wasn’t covered in mold and we could sleep on her upon arrival. Thank goodness, because one hotel stay on the drive down was stressful enough in these COVID times!

It’s hotter than freaking hell and also very humid! I’m sitting still in the cockpit, in the breeze, at 8:00am and I’m already sweating. The boat’s interior temperature is currently the same as the outside temp, but it will creep up to about 5 degrees over ambient as the day progresses. The breeze is blowing from our port side, so the hatches don’t draw much inside. Our two air scoops will funnel some into two of the cabins, and we’ll have every fan going. The next few days are not going to be comfortable or fun. Can’t swim at the marina, so we’ll have to hose off occasionally and drink lots of ice water to prevent heat stroke. 

This is short because we have a ton of work to do. All those things we unpacked from the car are strewn across Lady’s salon and spare cabins and need to be unpacked and stowed, and Dave has a long list of repairs to tend to.

But first, I’m going to the farmer’s market for some fresh produce. I hope folks are wearing masks!

The stay at home order has given me plenty of time to sort through the photos and videos from our time in The Bahamas. A little too much time, perhaps.

I got to try out my new camera which can be used underwater. I have a prescription mask for my distance vision, which is problematic when trying to look at the tiny camera screen underwater. I need to get one of those stick-on magnifiers. It’s going to take some practice using the camera effectively underwater, but my first efforts weren’t all that bad. I discovered that I can improve the video clips in iMovie, which is most excellent.

So for your viewing pleasure, here’s a little something I put together from my underwater video clips and set to music. Enjoy!

One thing I knew for certain when we started this first year of cruising, was that it would be a steep learning curve. At the time I probably thought the learning curve was steep when we set off last April to move the boat from NH to Virginia, but looking back on it now, that was more of a hill than the mountain of learning curve I started climbing once we were at the point of leaving the country. Then enter the pandemic. Yikes!

In prior posts I’ve talked about my struggles with learning how to adequately utilize weather data for cruise planning. I continue to work on that. No better time than the present since I’m stuck at home for the foreseeable future. I’ve also talked about struggling to create and maintain a routine, figuring out how to keep in touch when in foreign countries and when traveling offshore, taking inordinate amounts of time to plan routes and learn about the places we will be visiting, and about honing my boat-driving and anchoring skills. These are all part of the learning curve. 

For me, the biggest challenge for this part of our first cruising year was provisioning to leave the country. There were so many questions buzzing around my head. How much can we really fit on our boat? Are there additional nooks and crannies we can make use of for food storage? How do I determine what we will need for 6-8 weeks? How do I best determine how much of each item we’ll need? What fresh produce can I store out of the refrigerator and how long will it last? What provisions will I be able to get once in the Bahamas and other countries further south? I had so many questions and only did a little research (a little too late) about how other cruisers handle this. I found some helpful tips, but many of my questions were boat (space) and people (eating habits and preferences) specific. Plus I was provisioning not only for me and Dave but also for my folks who have different preferences and habits. What I settled on may have been mostly sufficient under normal circumstances, it was not sufficient for a pandemic, let alone in an area with limited access to groceries.

I have learned from this experience, however. In part that learning came from experiencing the impact of my provisioning decisions. Other stuff I learned from cruisers we met while in the Bahamas, several of whom were prepared to be self-sufficient for up to 2 months. Here are my biggest provisioning lessons.

Plan for being self-sufficient for 2-3 months. This is a multifaceted lesson. For our situation, this means stocking a lot more for making our own bread products and baking in general. Think bread, English muffins, bagels, pizza dough, tortillas. Fresh produce runs out quickly and we have a small fridge, and the freezer, while quite large, can only hold so much. Next time we will stock more canned fruits, veggies and meats as well as some freeze-dried foods (including eggs), and more powdered milk. I’m conflicted about freeze-dried and powdered provisions because they are highly processed and come in a lot of packaging, which is not environmentally friendly. However, they are much lighter than canned goods and have a long shelf-life, both important considerations on a boat. I will have to curb my guilt by doing some environmental penance to ensure our larger environmental impact is balanced (not kidding). Eating canned and freeze-dried items requires a different approach to cooking, as I’m learning. These items are best in meals like soups, stews, stir fries and casseroles, so this will necessitate stocking more rice, grains and pastas. 

Find airtight food storage solutions. Things like flours and grains often (not always) come with insect eggs. Storing them in home in the US for immediate use rarely results in an issue, although a couple of times I’ve found meal worms in something I let sit a little too long at the back of the pantry. In the hot and humid climate of the Caribbean, however, hatching can occur more quickly. If stored in an airtight environment, which has much less oxygen, these items will last longer without revealing the hidden insects within. 

We did have some provisioning successes. We did a good job of provisioning the types of foods we enjoy eating; we didn’t stock anything we wouldn’t eat. We had plenty of frozen meats, more than plenty frozen veggies (Dave does not consider this a success, but I do), and plenty of canned chicken and tuna (for lunches). Even though we enjoy cooking meals from recipes we’ve come to love that require specific ingredients, we are also good at substituting when we don’t have something on hand. Dave is also very good at creating meals from what’s on hand, and I’m getting better at it. We haven’t had a boring meal aboard yet. I learned about and tried sprouting seeds. They are incredibly easy to grow on the boat and provide fresh greens (sprouts) when store-bought fresh produce runs out or runs thin. (I enjoyed them so much I even ordered some for here at home.) We acquired big blocks of cheese that kept in the freezer (shelf side that is less cold); we even came home with some. We had 5 lbs of clementines that lasted 3 weeks out of the fridge and we only lost one to mold. I had powdered whole milk on board and was able to make yogurt. We had plenty of paper products, cleaners and toiletries aboard (also an important part of provisioning). I’m sure there were more successes, but these are the ones that stand out.

I am hopeful for our next round of provisioning for the Bahamas. Our successes combined with the lessons learned should serve us well; there’s no greater teacher than experience. Next time I think I’ll pass on that side of pandemic 😉

From our anchorage in West Palm Beach on Thursday we started calling marinas between Fort Lauderdale and Stuart looking for one that would either allow us to moor or tie up dockside until July or put our boat on the hard until January. (For the uninitiated, “on the hard” means on land, preferably tied down, which is the best scenario for hurricane season.) We didn’t want to go too far north because (a) the further we go, the more likely we have to go ashore for provisions (read that as more risk of exposure to coronavirus), and (b) we’d have to retrace those miles before we get to the Bahamas. 

One marina in Fort Lauderdale quoted us $36,000 to store her on the hard until January. Uh, thanks, but no thanks. Many marinas were booked and others were just not taking new boats for anything long term because of the pandemic. Then we hit pay dirt, well, at least as good as one can get in a situation like this. We called the Fort Pierce City Marina. They had not been taking anyone other than cruisers passing through who needed a night to rest before continuing on or to wait out weather. On Thursday, however, they had finally gotten the okay from city officials to take “drop-and-go” boats. Show up, secure your boat to the dock, close her up and get off to head home. We were their first such arrangement. Amen! We booked with them through at least July, depending on how this virua plays out. They even allowed us two nights when we called back to tell them we couldn’t get the rental car until Monday morning. We promised to stay on our boat until we leave Monday, other than to sign the requisite paperwork and dump our garbage. The dockmaster met us and helped with a pumpout and showed us to our slip and chatted with us for a bit. Nice folk here.

We started the trek here Friday and finished it yesterday. We settled on our dock by lunch. Then we started the tiring process of getting the boat ready to be closed up for 3+ months. Dave was rational enough to make us stop working by 4pm so we didn’t exhaust ourselves completely and we had fruity rum drinks before dinner. The rum isn’t gone yet, but it’s getting dangerously low. We have enough for fruity rum drinks this afternoon. (I hear rumor the NH liquor stores are still open- yay!) After a yummy pancake breakfast this morning we set about continuing our work, stopping only for lunch. The only reason I’m blogging now is because Dad discovered a leak in the hot water tank that is in their cabin. We’d heard the water pump purr occasionally last night, but Dave couldn’t trace the leak this morning. So he and dad took the tank out and are trouble shooting it as I type. Dave knows he can’t repair it now, but he’s looking for what he may need to fix or replace for when we return. Once he’s done I can finish cleaning the floors in the salon and galley, Then it will be time for showers and drinks, then Easter dinner. 

Yes, we will have some semblance of Easter dinner. We have canned ham (for emergency provisions, but this works) pineapple and brown sugar, frozen veggies and stuff for a cheesy risotto. Plus there are homemade chocolate chip cookies for later. Yum!

The scariest part of our journey starts tomorrow when we venture into civilization for the first time in four weeks. We will minimize our contact with other humans, and are prepared to clean surfaces and our hands when necessary, armed with disinfectant wipes, hand sanitizer and homemade masks (although we only have enough supplies on board for one each). I’m sure Hertz is cleaning their cars, but I’ll wipe it down myself for good measure when I pick it up. We will stop for leg stretching, gas, bathrooms, coffee and maybe a to-go dinner. Other than that, we’re driving straight through to NH and are bringing food for breakfast, lunches and snacks, plus water and juice. We even have a cooler for the remaining fridge and freezer items.
Dave had wanted to get the cooler off the boat anyway. Hopefully we arrive home without contracting the virus en route. Then we will quarantine in our own homes for 14 days. Yeehaw. 

Back to cleaning and stowing stuff. Stay safe, stay healthy and take care of each other!

We’ve been anchored at Hoffman’s Cay for 11 days now. Technically, we were anchored off Devil’s Cay for the first three days, but it was a little rolly there so close to the inlet, so we moved to Hoffman’s Cay about 3 miles northeast. There are generally 11-14 boats anchored in this area on any given day. Many have been here longer than us. 

These are uninhabited islands, so we can walk along the small beaches and swim and snorkel off the boat or from one of the beaches and stay socially distanced. The waters off the beaches on this side are stand-up shallow for a couple hundred feet, so it’s easy to snorkel from shore as well as from the swim ladder on our starboard sugar scoop (those are the steps down to the water). One of the beaches near us has a 500 foot path across to the Atlantic side with a gorgeous, longer beach that’s great to walk along especially at low or falling tide (see post picture). The sand feels great on my feet and there is always a fresh supply of shells (and sadly plastic and other human debris) to discover. There’s also a 2-mile long beach a little further up from “our beaches” that is fabulous walking at low tide, but with fewer shells. We’ve settled into a routine that usually involves one excursion ashore and either a swim, snorkel or dinghy exploration. Late afternoon is for relaxing aboard with some sort of afternoon drink (though we have to ration our rum). Then there’s dinner followed by a game and/or movie before bed. We are extremely fortunate to have this little slice of paradise amidst the chaos of the COVID pandemic.

We’ve met and talked with a few of the other cruisers anchored here, maintaining our 6-foot distance, of course. Usually we’re talking dinghy-to-boat or dinghy-to-kayak, but yesterday there were three sets of people on that 2-mile beach I mentioned above, so we actually had a land-based conversation. I find it comforting knowing we’re not alone in this situation and that there are others close by, just in case. Most are planning to stay here as long as possible, waiting for the pandemic to settle down a bit before returning to the US or Canada. Those we’ve met so far are much better provisioned than we are; they’re not newbies like us. 

How long we are able to stay here depends first and foremost on our ability to get additional food supplies. Unlike our cruiser buddies here at Hoffman’s Cay, we did not provision for the apocalypse. Learning to live aboard is a steep enough learning curve. I wasn’t prepared for doing this during a pandemic. So Monday or Tuesday we will cruise the 5-6 hours back up to Great Harbor Cay and follow whatever protocols they have in place for cruisers to come ashore for groceries and hope the mailboat actually arrives Tuesday with new food supplies. This is a small island, so we anticipate being able to get staples like rice, flour, butter, eggs, cheese, maybe some frozen meat, hopefully some canned fruits and veggies. Thanks to one of the Bahamas Facebook groups I follow, I have a contact at the GHC Marina who will keep me posted about the mailboat, but was also able to tell me that other than flour and fresh produce the local grocery was fully stocked yesterday. Hopefully Bahamians don’t get scared, especially on the family islands, and start being afraid of cruisers and refusing them access to food and fuel. Fear can make humans act poorly and misinformation flies around here as much as it does in the US and elsewhere, despite the PM’s efforts to communicate clearly.

There are currently 24 confirmed cases of COVID in the Bahamas, and 3 deaths. Most of the cases are in Nassau, a couple are on Grand Bahama, but the first death was of a person from Bimini who was so ill he was flown to the hospital in Nassau where he later died. The Prime Minister is a very good communicator, and a medical doctor himself, which is very good in a health crisis. Since 3/19 he has made at least 4 addresses to his people reiterating, clarifying and adding to his original executive order. (We don’t have sufficient cell coverage or data to watch them, but we read the transcripts.) Apparently his people are not all following the rules of social distancing and curfew, however, especially on the “family islands” (those with small populations like Great Harbor Cay). He’s tightened things up a bit as a result, including more police patrols and a complete shut down this weekend of all stores and services, and he directed everyone to just stay home- period. The order lasts from 9pm last night until 5am Monday morning. Then we’ll see what happens. Cruisers are held to the same restrictions as the Bahamians, as is only fair. Bahamians are allowed outside in their yards only, cruisers are allowed to swim around their boats or go ashore to uninhabited island beaches for quick walks. Bahamians and cruisers can only leave their homes/boats for groceries, fuel, money or medicine (or water, for cruisers). Inter-island travel is banned for all, except cruisers can move to get the essentials I just listed or to head back to their home country.

We should be able to clear out of the Bahamas from the GHC marina when the time comes. From there it’s only about 130 miles to the inlet near West Palm Beach, so all we will need is a good 2-day weather window for the crossing. Hopefully we do not end up needing to head back to the US before the virus settles a bit, because we feel safer from it here.

Stay safe and healthy and take care of each other!

Our attempt to cross to the The Berry Islands was aborted about 7 miles out. The starboard generator shut down unexpectedly and then wouldn’t restart, though it tried several times. Can’t troubleshoot that in the dark with the seas bouncing you around, so we turned around and returned to the anchorage we’d been at the past few nights. Good thing we had a track line to follow, the channel markers were all it, and we have a good spotlight! Re-anchoring was the easy part, very calm in here and no other boats.

We had a few hours of sleep and breakfast, now Dave & Dad are troubleshooting the generator. If necessary, we can connect both motors to the port generator and run that way. The final result will determine where we go next, if we don’t just stay put for a while. Fingers crossed! I will keep you posted.

The picture collage is from our anchorage. Scenic, n’est ce pas?

Stay healthy and take care of each other!