Tuesday, February 22, 2011

Mexico!

       Wheeew what a long, strange journey it has been getting here. We have a million stories that would blow people’s minds out, and I’m sure they will all come out eventually, but for now I’ll just say we are glad to be anchored at Isla Mujeres, drinking cold Dos Equis and eating street tacos.   
    We pulled into Bahia Isla Mujeres at 1am and anchored, preparing for our first sleep that would last more than 3 hours. We haven’t slept for more than 3 hours at a time for 4 days, and we were very anxious to get some. One extra comment about the boat over that last 4 days: purchasing and installing an auto-pilot is now very high on the to-do list. We do enjoy hand-steering the boat, and it really doesn’t require too much effort, it’s just that it gets really old sitting in that seat for 3 hours or more at a time. And it would be nice to be able to pull in the fishing lines, change lures, remove weeds and put them back out, take a piss, get a drink, make some tea, make a sandwich, get a flashlight, adjust the sheets, pick your nose, scratch your ass, anything really without having to get the other person to come take the wheel. Of course there is no sense in getting a dinky auto-pilot that you would be scared to use in rough weather, because that is really the only time we find we need it. In calm seas we can just leave the helm and the boat steers pretty true by itself, doesn’t wander, and will pretty much be on the same heading you left it at for a minute or so. One more thing on the to-do list is a wind generator. Our solar panels keep the batteries juiced 90% of the time, and we have fairly low energy consumption. In fact, even if it is cloudy for one day, the panels are able to fully charge our battery bank the next day. We never use our outboards to charge our battery bank, in fact, they each have a dedicated starting battery that isn’t even hooked up to our main battery bank. 2 things make us think we’ll need a wind generator. One is that with an auto-pilot running all night, as well as gps, vhf, ipod stereo, etc. combined with a cloudy day or two and our batteries might be in trouble . #2 is that when we are at anchor hiding out from a cold front, we are sitting on the boat wanting to use electricity, like mess with the laptop, watch movies, music, lights at night, constantly opening and closing the engel to get beers out, etc. and during these days (when a front is passing) it is generally very cloudy and we are getting nil from our panels. However it is also very windy, all day and all night, leading us to believe a wind generator would solve this problem. The reason we didn’t get one right off the bat was because we weren’t exactly sure what our power consumption would be and if we would need one, and also because the wind generators I had seen (and heard) before on sailboats were actually louder than a gas generator sitting on deck. I have since seen a couple models that are whisper quiet, so as soon as the houseboat sells these two things will be getting done. If the houseboat never sells, these things probably won’t get done.
      Sorry, back to Isla Mujeres. So as all three boats in the flotilla anchored and prepared for rest, (actually I think Bryan and Angie immediately attempted to get online at 1am after 4 days of sailing) I looked back at Salty Dog and one of the ferries that takes people back and forth between Cancun and Isla Mujeres was heading straight for her at about 15 knots. In the dark this thing looks like a giant jelly-fish due to all the blue underwater lights around its hulls and the string of Christmas lights on the top deck….somewhat startling to a delirious sleep deprived mind. It blows its horn, stops way too late for comfort, pulls up behind salty dog and gets on the loud speaker saying we need to move farther into the bay. Just kind of funny as we all were relaxing and feeling glad to be anchored and ready to sleep, when we had to all get up, pull anchor and move the boats. could have been worse I guess.
      So we woke up late Saturday, and went in to attempt to get checked in. We knew it was Constitution Day, and a weekend, so were skeptical about the check in process getting done, as well as extra fees being tacked on. We had also been told that checking in to Mexico is quite a lengthy process, with none of the 4 government offices really seeming to coordinate with each other. Immigration told us to go to the hospital office, which was closed (but wasn’t actually the hospital office, come to find out later) so we went back to immigration. The one guy working said, it should be open keep checking back (we actually verified with him that we went to the correct building, but there must’ve been some miscommunication). We check again later, still closed, went to immigration, now it was closed. Now the general attitude on Gualby is not to try to push too hard to get things done, that goes for officials, service people, fellow flotilla members, etc. Only apply gentle pressure. Which we felt we had done. So when a shopkeeper next door to immigration said all government buildings would be closed till Tuesday due to the holiday, we took this as a sign to get some beers.
      We did this as well as street tacos, numerous street tacos, with lots of spicy salsa, habaneros, salsa verde, sour cream, etc, and looked for a cheap bar to watch the superbowl. One of the two boats who concern themselves with internet connectivity let everyone know the superbowl had not happened yet and was this coming Sunday. The next day we had already resigned to waiting till Tuesday to check in. And we got a late start to shore due to extra bathroom time on the boats (street tacos may have been a slight shock to the system).
      The day of the superbowl we pre-partied on the Gualby, with burgers and fries and beers, swam in the bay, wrestled with the dogs, and then got cleaned up and headed into town. The superbowl was fun, (I never really have any interest in the game, for me its just a reason to get together and party with friends) we imbibed on cold beers and chips and salsa, closed down a bar that night with a live band, and went back to the boats to catch up on more sleep.
      Finally Tuesday came and we attacked the inevitable. We expected the check in process to take 4 hours (which is what a fellow sailor told us) but for the flotilla and our typical bag of complications it took 2 days. We had to have a vet out to the boat, a call to the U.S. embassy, copy after copy of all our paperwork, walk all over town, redundantly fill out forms, ask questions in 2 year-old child Spanish about the forms (some were only in Spanish, and we needed translations), attempt to pay the bank the check in fee, but only one of the banks will accept this, and only from 10-2 each day, come back to immigration about 4 times, port captains office 4 times, dinghy the vet out to the boats, pay the vet, dinghy officials out to the boats, dinghy them back in. All in all it wasn’t that bad, and the officials didn’t mind us drinking beers on the way from office to office.
      So now we are here, Penny is checked in, we’re checked in, our pantry is restocked, cold beer in the engel, and life is good. We’ll be posting up here for a few weeks while the salty dog heads back to the states for a wedding. It’s obviously a little touristy for our tastes, but at this point we’re not minding it; the island has nice beaches, a good anchorage, a good dinghy dock, an island beach for Penny not too far from the boat, laundry facilites, and lots of tourists, seems like mostly from Michigan, which we get a kick out of listening to and watching. Thanks for all the comments on the blog, and keep em coming. Till next post.
C




Celebrating arrival in Mexico

Yes, we would like nine beers, that's right nine

Tailgating on the Gualby before going into town for Super Bowl

Close up of the ladies of the Flotilla

Pen Dog making sure Ted does not need her assistance

Sweet ass grill

What the Mexicans use to prevent anyone from climbing over the walls

Taking a break on the side of the road while we were walking around Isla Mujeres

The old "use your oven mitt as a coozie for your big beer" trick

Team ConPen doing some reading and relaxing at anchor

Conor and Penny checking the anchor

Look at that face, gotta love this knucklehead



Penny checking to see if Conor needs any help up




School of nice sized Hogfish



View of the bottom of Gualby

Tuesday, February 15, 2011

Passage Life

          We just had our longest passage to date on Gualby. Four and a half days long and surprisingly uneventful. The oceans and winds were very kind to us; as if they knew we were going to love Mexico so they wanted us to get here safely and quickly. Winds ranged from 25 knots to 0 knots, seas 3-5 foot with an annoying three foot swell mixed in to flat calm and sparkling in the sun. We encountered no serious weather and although we always prefer to sail over motoring (not because we are hard core sailors but because our engines cavitate like a motha in anything more than 1-2 foot seas) we did use our engines to get us to Mexico before an anticipated cold front that was bringing 30+ knots to the Yucatan Peninsula. We caught a Dolphin (the delicious green and blue shiny kind) and saw dolphins (the flipper kind), we read books, ate good food, drank lots of green tea with honey, and slept in three hour increments without too much trouble.
          I had been looking forward to a longer passage for awhile. I knew Gualby could handle it and I was beginning to feel like I could too. I was ready to trade the training wheels for a big girl bike. You know the one, pink and purple with streamers flowing off the handlebars and a kick ass plastic basket with a daisy on it hanging off those gorgeous handlebars. I was ready. Con and I had done a few smaller overnight passages without difficulty. We learned a good amount during those passages. We had dealt with some nasty weather, hailed huge freighters in the distance that seemed to be barreling down on us at extreme speeds, cringed as we woke each other up to make sail changes, learned that even though one crew member is grumpy when you wake him up it is better to deal with grumpy then to be miles off course when it is grump’s turn at the helm. I learned that Penny and Conor are a shift team where I am a solo driver during the passages. My feelings aren’t hurt at all, Pen Dog; no big deal. We also had learned a lot about each other and what it is like to not only be husband and wife but partners in a completely different setting. We looked out for each other in a way we hadn’t before. I have never concentrated so hard at the helm in order to have the sails be luffing perfectly so Con can safely take sail down or make adjustments. To have it be as black as you can imagine out, no moon, no stars, winds picking up and the only thing you can see is the head lamp on the love of your life’s head bouncing with the movement of the boat, you discover a new found trust in each other. And it didn’t just magically happen, it was earned. There were plenty of swearing matches and “how can I communicate this more clear” discussions before we got to this point. I honestly don’t think we have ever high fived in our whole relationship as much as we have during the beginning of this trip.
          So, with our training wheels left in the Bahamas, we headed to Isla Mujeres, Mexico with as much excitement as a six year old ready to open the big boy bike shaped present at his birthday table. To my surprise, four days was easier than one or two days. We got in a little routine and I felt less tired during my shifts than I had in the past. The weather was almost perfect. I think there are about 20 exclamation marks in the log book about how beautiful each day was and how happy I am. Not sure if this is a bad thing or not, but our log book reads a bit more like a diary than a maritime document. I cant help it, it really is that beautiful and amazing that I feel the need to record it along with wave height, wind speed and direction. Almost the whole trip the winds were beam to and a little aft, waves gently pushing us along. We used the hell out of the code zero, it lets Gualby sail fast and easy.
          Con and I agree that there are better shifts at the helm than others. Whoever sleeps first we think that person gets the shaft. You don’t really sleep that good because it’s the 7-10 or 8-11 shift so you are really not that tired and then you are stuck with the “dark shift,” Hardly any stars, usually, which makes navigation difficult and you probably only got to sleep for an hour or so before your shift. My favorite shift was sunrise. No matter how tired I was in the dark before the dawn, I would perk right up with the light from the sun. Most times, I would hum “Here Comes the Sun” to myself as I watched the ocean change from a dark purple to a sparkling blue. I felt the most connection with the earth, the sun, the ocean, with life during that hour or so it takes the sun to fully emerge from behind the horizon. During shifts in general, a lot of reflection goes on. Reflection on life, self, relationships, family and friends back home, future events and plans, and current life choices. I have never thought so much about the person/wife/daughter/friend I would like to be as when I am alone at the helm. I see Con and Pen sleeping sound in the salon, the sails are full and flying us across the deep and seemingly endless ocean in front of me and I can feel the energy that surrounds me. Those peaceful moments of reflection are balanced by some less spiritual times. You feel like you just closed your eyes when you hear, “honey its your turn at the helm.” You feel like it shouldn’t be necessary to explain that cooking and cleaning up time does not count towards your sleeping time. You feel incredibly guilty when you look into the sweet eyes of your loyal pup who hasn’t peed in 32 hours because she is trying to be a good girl. You don’t really hang out with the other person that much, so you start to miss talking to the person that is 3 feet away from you, snoring. But, above everything else, you feel good at the end when you finally drop anchor. You feel proud of yourself and each other and you feel a little more grown up in every sense of the word.
M.

What Penny's been eating
                                         
Good Weather Mego

Penny keeping an eye on the Salty Dog

Sleep deprived


Passage Sunset


Meg attempting to coax Penny over to Team Solo Mego

sneaking up on Salty Dog

world's smallest yellowfin (or medium blackfin)

Dressed for sushi grade........what, .......Don't judge us, we're hungry


and we try not to waste much


Team ConPen attempting a weather check



Salty Dog rolling through a trough

Team ConPen off watch

Prepping for Mexico.  What?......That thing?  Oh thats a sick-ass Mexican Moustache.  Duh

Sunday, February 13, 2011

Stray Cat Spinnaker Incident

          The word “incident” may be somewhat of a misnomer, because it generally implies a negative situation, and this one was not. But it also implies a notion of “surprise” and I think in that sense it is used accurately. Everyone in the flotilla knew Bryan and Angie had this sail onboard, and we constantly gave them shit about never wanting to try it, and we also doubted that they would try it. So during the last month when the winds became light and almost directly behind us, we on the Gualby Nation definitely felt an incident was about to take place when the Romo’s announced over the vhf that they were gonna try the symmetrical spinnaker.
A little background may be necessary here: if you haven’t read any of their blog, you might not know that out of the 3 boats in the Flotilla, the Romo’s are probably the least interested in actually sailing. In fact I doubt they would have any interest in it at all if it didn’t mean saving money on fuel. If that sounds harsh then feel free to ask them yourself, because they have no problem admitting it. Being salty, respectable “sailors” just isn’t something they aspire to. The stray cat is simply a tool they use to travel, and they will tell you there are most definitely more suitable tools for this task.
           Now that the three of us have been sailing for a few months now, and have had opportunity to gauge the perfomance of each other and each other’s boats, everyone in the flotilla would say that the stray cat really shines while sailing downwind. Any angle down wind. That’s when they have the most speed and most comfortable ride. But everyone likes sailing downwind, so the surprise is in that they havent tried to use the aforementioned spinnaker yet (which came with the boat, complete with lines, blocks, and a sock to douse it).
              Surprisingly enough they decided to use, and the next surprise came when they got it up. And the third surprise came when it looked full and more or less as a you would expect a spinnaker to look on a sailboat. And after a few cents worth of trimming advice from the Gualby and the Salty Dog the fourth surprise came. The Stray Cat was sailing over 6 knots in 10 knots of directly aft wind only using that one sail. For comparison purposes, in these same conditions, Gualby with only its Code Zero out was only able to do 4.5 knots, and Salty dog with its gigantic genoa was pulling 4 or so knots. This is the first time in recorded history that the Stray Cat was able to pass any other sailboat in the Tortilla Flotilla, and they passed both of us. I’m sure Bryan has blogged the hell out of this incident by now, taken a million pictures of his gps so he can prove speed, a million pictures of that spinnaker bellied out and full of air, and a million pictures of the other two boats as he passed us. And rightfully so, because it was pretty sweet.
         None of us in the Flotilla are seasoned sailors, nor racers, only couples traveling on their sailboats. But when you travel with other boats there is always an unspoken underlying aire of competition, because no one prefers to come in last. (Some boats also prefer not to come in first, so will wait at the entrance to a harbor until everyone else goes in, all so that they don’t have to be first to test the waters.) What I
'm trying to say is we all probably try new things, new configurations, and fuck with our sails a lot more than we would if we were sailing solo. And we privately revel in glory when we come in first, and play it off when we come in last, and when asked about our lastness we would reply something like “ahh we had a nice, steady, comfortable sail; its not a race you know!”  Despite this, the only time Stray Cat comes in first is when they leave 3-4 hours ahead of everyone else. So after we realized Stray Cat stood a chance to pass us under sail, we tried every sail combination we could think of to break that 6 knot bar. We rolled sails out, rolled them in, calculated wind angles vs. achieved speed, pulled up the main, took the main down, tightened and loosened, switched the code zero from port to starboard, questioned each other’s competency at the helm, and still couldn’t break the 6 knot bar set by stray cat.
          I am sure Bryan was videoing this momentous occasion as he passed us to port, spinnaker hauled in tight and billowing. But I’m not sure if he was close enough to see our bare assess and middle fingers shining in the sun light. We even held up Penny’s tail to give em a view of her gooch as we were left sniffing the bitter cloud of Stray Cat’s victory.
I would also like to add this as a post script: whenever you ask anyone about the usefulness of a spinnaker on a cruising vessel traveling this route around the world (mostly downwind), they invariable tell you that that sail will sit in its sail bag and grow mold for the whole trip. It doesn’t matter if you ask other cruisers, sail makers, seasoned racers, or sailing instructors, and we asked all of them, we were always told that that sail has a very narrow range of usability on a cruising vessel. And up until this historic day I believed them. But this day changed everything. I saw Bryan and Angie (who don’t really even like sailing) keep this sail full all day even at times when they were 30 degrees or more off the wind. Believe me, I had a lot of time to scrutinize wind angles and sail fullness. I attribute this to the fact that once that sail is up and inflated, it has a lot of freedom to do what it wants, the sail itself can move 30 degrees or more from the center axis of the boat, so even if the boat axis is not directly downwind, the sail can adjust itself, and will adjust itself to stay full. I don’t know if this is possible due to the fact that the stray cat is a catamaran, so the attachment points are very spread out, or what, but it looked very low maintenance. Whats more is that if it was necessary to turn more than 30 degrees off the wind, one could let out the windward side of the sail and pull in the leeward side, effectively changing the shape to almost asymmetrical.
          It was suggested to me that a code zero had a larger range of uses and wind angles for a trip like this, and would be a better investment. And we do use it in a huge range of wind angles, anything dead down wind to just slightly upwind (when one of us is asleep and the wind is shift, or we are just too lazy to pull it down until we are sure the wind is gonna shift all the way past beam). But this sail is not letting me sail 6 knots in 10 knots of dead aft wind. And this far into the trip we have sailed in nearly dead downwind conditions probably 1/3 of the time. The day the Romo’s passed us the most speed we could achieve was 5 knots, and that was with the code zero rolled out to starboard and the 115% Genoa rolled out to port - the infamous mariposa configuration as Meg calls it. And this configuration really requires that the wind be within 20 degrees of dead downwind. Bottom line is this:  if anyone has and old spinnaker growing mold in it‘s sail bag, and wouldn’t mind parting with it, let us know.
C


pull your ladder up already Bryan

To Slay a Beast






          Ever since Little San Salvador, when Ted dinghied up to me with the dead body of an enormous beast, easily approaching 10lbs, still dangling from his spear, I knew I would now be on a vision quest to battle a beast of equal mass. As Ted approached in the distance, and I could see the silhouette of his trophy, his beloved GoldenRod bending from the huge weight of the beast, I knew even before a word escaped from Ted’s proud mouth that I could not rest until I too had slayed a dragon of such mythical proportions. That night, as Ted carved the roasted beast and generously served up heaping portions of its enormous hind end, I hoped the other Flotilla members had not noticed my uncharacteristic silence as I toiled to unwind the jealousy, envy and ambition that swirled inside my head. When night time came I tossed and turned in my bed as images of Ted trading blows with this beast replayed over and over in my mind. I can see him there at the base of the cliffs of Little San Salvador, a fathom or so below the surface of the crystal blue water, magic yellow glove on one hand, Golden Rod cocked in the other, prepared to meet his maker at the mouth of the beast’s lair, should that be his destiny. But that wasn’t his destiny. His destiny was to thrust forward, draw back, jab and move, duck and dodge, holding his breath till his lungs nearly burst, until he rose to the surface victorious, beast blood splattered across his golden curly locks.
          As a young lad the great water-swordsman of yore spin yarns of epic battles such as these from their stool in the pub, and though you want to believe in their truth, you know that never have you seen any man with evidence of a beast of such size. And on occasion when a knight does fall, and his body is never recovered, and the whispers around the village blame such a beast for slaying the man and devouring his body, there is always doubt in one’s mind. You think no way, man. The beasts don’t grow to that size anymore. They may not have even been the same species as the current midgets we encounter today, whose size is barely enough to give an infant a fair fight, let alone feed one.
          “But what if they were true?,” I used to think. How glorious it must have been for a man to ride his steed into the village with a corpse of a giant water beast slung over the back of his horse. What a party must have ensued, with ale frothing over the mugs of every man in the village, patting the victor on the back and feeling the edge of his blade. All the children listening intently as he retold the story over and over, and all the maidens letting out huge sighs at the climax, expressing their faintness with the back of their hands across their foreheads, then rushing forward to throw themselves at the swordsman, giggling and feeling his biceps. Can you imagine my envy when all these things actually happened to Ted that night? I saw first hand how a victory over a beast of such proportions can elevate a mere water-swordsman to the status of a King.
So I made a solemn vow to myself that night, that I shall not rest until I too had achieved King status. Until I too had a story to tell all my hundreds of children from my 20 different wives. And for many moons I searched near and far, high and low for the lair of such a beast. And I found many a lair that must have once housed a great beast, for inside the bones of water-swordsman where piled high. But no beast was to be found. The lairs lay long extinct. Until this day. This day shall remain in my mind as the greatest battle I have ever endured,….and endure I did, victorious.
          After a long and arduous voyage the flotilla was anchoring their ships in a large horseshoe shaped harbour, the name of which I cannot say, on a far away island which I cannot name. The other captains and crew were taking their dinghies ashore for a stretch of the ole legs, but as my crew and I prepared to launch our war canoe, a familiar scent approached my nostrils. It is a scent I shall never forget, a scent I have known for a long time, a scent I have experienced many a day over the last moons. I experienced this scent in every lair I found to contain human bones. It stays behind faintly, long after its owner has left. It is the scent of scat from a large water beast. The small ones don’t have this scent, this most distinct smell of smells, because the scat only takes on this flavour after the beast has ingested man flesh.
          Although I have smelled this many times before, never has the aroma been so strong, so pungent as to burn the hairs in my nose and make my blood boil. I sent my crew, oblivious to the odor and its cause, on to shore without me, for if this was to be my time, I must go at it alone. When all the crew where gone, and I was alone on my ship, I knelt above the water and said a prayer to Poseiden: “Oh Lord of the Oceans, mighty King of the Seas, whose power and strength are unmatched in this world or any other,….Give me courage of heart to enter into this battle against evil, that when mine eyes gaze upon this monster I do not turn and run. Give me strength of arm and quickness of sword, that I may endure a battle lasting many hours, and give me sharpness of mind so that I shall prevail and arise victorious.”
          With that I donned my armour, my fins, and my mask, and my golden glove. I put a final edge on Excalibur, my trusty waterblade, and dove into the tepid water. At my entrance into the underwater world, the creatures that reside there must have sensed a great battle was about to take place. For as I followed the scent trail the fishes that call this world home began to follow me. The eels, the triggers, the groupers, and the yellowtails all gathered near until I traveled with a great swarm of life behind me. Whether they followed to witness the fight, or to pick up the entrails of the loser, I will never know. I sensed I must be getting close to the lair because my swarm of followers started to fall back further and further. As I came over a grassy underwater knoll there it was. The lair. It was dark inside, although the light outside was bright, bright enough to show a green trail of smoke wafting up out of the cave, the odor from a freshly laid scat. As I approached the cave suddenly all the life around me grew silent. The normal underwater chorus which at times is so loud you can hear it above water, was now gone. The barnacles had stopped clicking, the crabs stopped chewing, the starfish stopped sucking, and the anemones stopped fluttering in the tide. All eyes where on me and my next move. I approached the cave cautiously but the beast must have smelled me, for as I came near he came out to greet me, with all his hideousness. I’m sure at first glance he noticed my golden glove and knew why I was here, standing at the entrance to his lair. For it is customary for all beast hunters to wear this golden glove in their non-sword wielding hand. The glove is impervious to the razors which cover the body of the beast, and will allow the swordsman a grip on the beast’s leg or antennae without losing his hand.
          The beast was easily the size of the beast that Ted bested, only much uglier, much tougher looking, much more hungry. I could tell he’d been in many battles, for he bore many a scar on his face. His huge head was as big as my torso, steering two huge antennae, close to 1 meter in length, covered with razors up and down. Above his eyes protruded 2 long daggers, as sharp as my own blade, although only half the length. His legs were as thick as a childs arm, hairy at the tips and came to a solid, sharp point. It appeared to me that he was missing three legs on one side, obviously from a previous battle which he won. This didn’t slow him down, though, for he still had 7 to spare. Around his mouth were two small, but highly dextrous claws, which he would use to pull my broken body into the two crushing molars of his mouth. The same molars that would reduce me to man-burger has I slid down his gullet. His hind end was a mass of bulging, rippling muscle, easily matching my own thigh in girth.
          I took one quick breath of air, and then dove back down to meet my foe. But at the last minute, it occurred to me that simply running a blade through this beast would only put me even with Ted, assuming that the mass of our respective beasts was equal. I would have considered myself lucky to have won this battle with won quick thrust of my blade and walked away with my life. But that would not elevate me above Ted’s current status. I should be considered lucky to have even found a beast of this size, which hasn’t come along to any swordsman I have known in the last century,….except for Ted. So against the judgment of a more humble swordsman, I thrust Excalibur into the sand beside me. I removed my armour, my fins, my mask. At this moment the beast seemed to let down his guard. His stance relaxed and his antennae folded back to his sides. I walked up to him slowly but deliberately, and stood in front of his face. His jaw gnawing and grinding, foam, bubbling from his mouth, we stared at each other, eye to eye. I then removed the golden glove from my left hand, held it in my right hand, drew back and slapped him across his hideous face - a proper challenge to a mano-a-mano duel to the death. If I came out of this alive, I would be the first swordsman to defeat a water beast without a sword, and the glory would be all mine.
          His response to my face slap was a swift blow from his left antennae, which knocked me flat on my back and sent me sliding away from the lair entrance. I looked down at my chest to see specks of blood from the razors on his antennae, for I had no armour against them now. The only way to kill a water beast without the use of a blade is to twist his head from his arse and separate his body into two. This now occurred to me as nearly impossible, since his head was the size of my torso and his arse the girth of my thigh. I jumped up and ran at him, with all my speed, ducking and dodging counterstrikes from his huge antennae, and slid feet first under his belly. I wrapped my arms around his thorax and my legs around his tail, so that we were held chest to chest, and he could not reach me with his antennae or his legs. I used all my might to twist my own torso at the waist in order to remove his giant head, but the beast was too thick, too strong. He came out of his lair and attempted to mash me on a boulder, wrapping his legs around it and pulling himself onto it. But the missing legs on his right side allowed me to squirm out before he got the better of me. I went back up for air.
          At the surface I tried to reconstruct a plan as I listened to him grinding his molars down below. It was clear I made a mistake by attempting a mano-a-mano battle with a beast so large. But now he was out of his cave, and stood between Excalibur and me. I needed that blade back if I was to win this fight.
I swam back down and tried to get around him, but his superior agility in the water allowed him to turn and face me at every angle, always staying between my and my blade. I searched frantically for a solution, for now he felt he was on top and could finish me at will. But no solution presented itself, and my victory was starting to look hopeless.
          I cannot give up this fight. The beast has taken my glove, my armour, my fins and mask. He has taken my blade, Excalibur, handed down to me by my great grandfather‘s great grandfather. Certainly everyone will ask “Where are your things? What are those wounds on your chest?” And as soon as Ted gets close enough he’ll sniff the air around me, most certainly smelling the odor of the beast and know I had attempted to match him and failed.
         Just then I noticed a much smaller cave, a ways to the left of the entrance to the lair, and a little behind it. It was a gamble, but I surmised that the two caves must be connected, as I had often noticed in the empty lairs I had discovered previously. The gamble was this: although this cave was smaller than the opening to the beast’s lair, I was not entirely sure that the beast could not fit into this hole, and if the cave was a dead end, he would have me for sure.
          I went up for one last deep breath, dove back down and kicked my legs as furiously as I could, threw my arms into a frenzy, and sped toward the smaller opening, hoping the beast wouldn’t figure out my intentions in time to cut me off. He didn’t and I made it inside. Inside was dark and musty, and there were skeletons of every creature imaginable. At this sight I knew the two caves were one, I just had to find the connection. At that moment the dim light that was entering the cave from the opening now became shadowed, and I turned back to see the silhouette of the beast in the entrance to the cave, squeezing his fat head inside. The new darkness allowed me to see the connection to the caves, as light from the larger opening was now filtering into the back where the two caves joined. I darted around to the other side, pulling myself along the bottom with my hands and shot out the entrance of the lair, grabbing Excalibur and tumbling across the sand. When I stood up, the beast was on top of me. With two swipes of his antennae he simultaneously knocked Excalibur out of my hand, nearly severing my hand at the wrist, and struck another blow to my chest knocking me once again to my back. He came at me again, this time to finish me off, But his mistake came here: he knocked me and the blade in the same direction, so as I rolled to dodge the downward thrust of one of his great, pointed legs, I picked up Excalibur in my left hand and thrust it upward through his chest, directly in the center, between where his legs attach on each side. My first stab was shallow, but was enough to stun him. That bought me time to get to my feet in a squatting position. Without withdrawing the blade from his body, I stiffened my back and used my own enormous thighs to thrust the blade clean through him, exiting his head right between his eyes. The weight of his body fell down upon me, but he was dead, and I wriggled from underneath him victorious.
          When I returned to the ship with his enormous dead body, I collapsed as the heaviness of battle now sunk in. No one had yet returned from the shore. I no longer felt the need to have everyone throw a party in my honor, for maidens to throw themselves at me, for me to brag and boast the story. I now felt a strange respect for this beast, and all beasts of his kind. Now I made a new vow to myself: that if I was to ever encounter a beast of this size again, I would turn away, and leave him in peace, for there may come a day when there truly are no more. As I dressed the beast for roasting, alone on the ship, I thought about whether or not I would tell this story. I decided it must be told, but not in the manner most heroics are told, with exaggeration and emphasis. Only in the manner of truth, how it really happened. I would not leave out the parts of my mistakes or my ambition, or my jealous pride. I would not feel the need to bring it up every time I’m at the pub and tell every small child I meet. But I would tell my own crop of children, from my own wife, and make sure they feel the same way; that if ever they come upon a beast such as this, they should take pride only in having been lucky enough to discover it.
C


Obligatory "lobster next to your dog" photo


Monday, February 7, 2011

Preparing to Leave the Bahamas - January 3rd and 4th



          I need to play some catch-up and post what we’ve been doing for the last few weeks. We left Georgetown, Bahamas and realized we had stayed there way too long. Georgetown provide the Gualby Nation with free reverse osmosis water, a well stocked pantry and freezer, a handful of new friends that we would love to meet up with again sometime, a belly-full of conch fritters from Pet’s Place, a very cool junkanoo parade, a dozen or so clean Bahamian longboard waves, 2-3 episodes of Franzia poisoning (I‘ve said it before: it‘s real), and a dookie-load of unsolicited advice from grey hairs pseudo-sailing around the harbor. If that last one sounds negative then I’m coming across clearly. However we did meet a couple of old salts whose advice we found very helpful and pertinent to our style of sailing. That’s right......…..STYLE.
          Anywho, that dose of “North American retirement motor your sailboat around all the time and try to tell the younger sailors how to behave in Elizabeth Harbor sailing Culture” had the Tortilla Flotilla jonesing for some isolation again. We aptly found it in the Jumentos and Ragged Islands. We left around 8am on the Wednesday before New Years, I think, and motored into 15 knot winds till we could turn a little more west, cross through Hog Cay cut at the south end of the Exumas, and make our way toward Water Cay in the Jumentos. Ted got held up at Hog Cay cut due to his fat-ass draft and had to wait for high tide. We left him there and kept moving since his motoring ability easily makes up for any time lost in shallow areas. We got to Water Cay around 5pm, anchored and climbed to the top of the island (maybe 60 feet) to see if we could see Ted coming, and sure enough he was on the horizon. He promptly showed up about an hour later. I’m not sure what his top speed is while motoring but it seems whenever we leave him in shallow areas waiting for tide, he is always only an hour behind us. No matter how long we leave him for.
 

views from the war canoe


looking forward, poised for battle


Bryan with a good-en

         Next day, we got up early, threw the spears in the war canoe and headed to the hunting grounds. I’m still on a mission to catch a lobster bigger than Ted’s monster, so I ate my wheaties, put on my game face, and switched “on”. Bryan and I did find some 1-2 pounders under a rusty hulk, but the real bonus was this high spot of reef about a half mile from the island to the west, where the hogfish where swarming. So after getting my share of them we called it a day and headed back to the boats. Meg was starting to get a little pissed at this point because I kept leaving her in possibly “sharky” waters by herself as I scurried off after hogfish. She says my blood thirst and my ongoing spear fishing rivalry with Ted makes me an unsafe “buddy” in the water. We had heard there where lots of sharks in this area, and the first spot we hunted was a little unnerving: First we saw a dive bag laying on the reef, than another 25 yards further on there was a yellow dive glove, then another 30 yards was a shredded pair of board shorts. I bet whoever these belonged to didn’t get eaten by a shark, but it did make the dive a little creepy. So I guess I could have been a little more sympathetic to Meghan’s cause. I must admit I don’t enjoy the “buddy system”, but she is my wife so I guess I should try harder to oblige. 

Hogfish Bounty, required to calm Meg back down

          After returning to the boats we decided the wind was too perfect to stay another night so we upped anchor and sailed another 12 miles south to Flamingo Cay. This island was fairly interesting, had a rusty shipwreck on the beach, as well as what had to be a refugee raft washed up on the beach. Not sure how long it had been there, but it was clearly made by hand, with hand carved timbers as ribs, rough hewn planking, and clothing stuffed into the seams between the planks to slow the influx of water. It had a giant tree trunk for a mast and was held together by pieces of metal hammered into the planks to act as nails. There were clothes and backpacks everywhere washed up on the beach, but no refugees around. Seeing this thing made us all feel a little weird. Once we got over that we did some diving and dinghy exploration, which revealed a cave on the southwest side that was big enough to dinghy into.
dinghy cave
We found a couple of conchs, which were turned into conch salad, and then took a nap to prepare for new years eve. We rung in the new year with some beers we saved from Georgetown, fried hogfish and lobster, and a bon fire made from loose refugee raft planks. Gotta call out the Romo’s for going to bed early (perhaps their seniority makes them prone to falling asleep at 8pm) but they got a late night dinghy drive-by streaking for being lame.
          Next day we mostly layed around recovering. I was personally feeling a little unusual, maybe emotional is how a girl would describe it, and spent a lot of time thinking about New Years past with family and friends. I hope everyone back home is refreshed and starting new with new attitudes and eagerness toward 2011. Best regards to the Seller’s, the Gorhams, the Harpers, the Prevatts, the Faucheux’s (spelling?) and everyone who helped us make this trip possible. I hope everyone at LKMC is still plugging along and keeping up with the blog, maybe even making plans to visit. We miss you guys. Regards to the Drygas family, hope the polar plunge was painful and cleansing, as usual. Mike D and the Grobelny’s, and all the boys back home. Stop being bitches and at least leave me some blog comments or send an email. 

cruising into Duncan Town

         After recovering we woke up early and headed south to Ragged Island, which pretty much took all day. There is no good anchorage close to town, Duncan Town, the southern most settlement in the ragged chain. This place was surreal. We dinghied through a long and narrow mangrove channel about 2 miles into town hoping for one last weather check before moving on and making our way towards Mexico. The place has about 10 - 12 buildings, and seemed like hardly any people. I would guess maybe 30. Walking down the one street it felt like a ghost town run by animals. At one point we were in front of the police station and there was a dog lying in the street, a goat standing on a hill next to it, a peacock, a dozen chickens and a pig, all in one frame. The pig kind of waddles toward the dog, which looked just like Penny, except had lots of dread locks and only one eye, and starts to sniff the dog, probably checking to see if it was dead and ready for eating. As Meghan was digging in the back pack for the camera the dog jumps up and grabs the pig by the ear in a full on pig vs. dog raucus. The melee that ensued had us all stopped in our tracks. Chickens were scattering, the pig was screaming, the dog was sounding as if it wasn‘t gonna stop until it had torn the pig‘s ear off, and all the sudden everything went silent again, the dog went back to its spot and layed down, the pig wandered off sniffing the ground for scraps, the chickens kept pecking the ground, and we all just stood there in awe, with nobody around but us. Meghan said she had her hand on the camera but couldn’t move to get it out of the back pack and get off a shot. But hopefully you can get a mental picture. We did meet two drunk Bahamians, one with a bad case of the hiccups, drunk driving a golf cart around the one street. I had immediate respect because I too love to drive golf carts drunk. They were very friendly but made it clear that this town didn’t have much to offer. He did say there was a bar, and if we wanted beer or conch fritters to let him know so he could go wake up the lady who lived there and put beers in the fridge. We politely declined and headed back to the boats.
          
One last Bahamian dinner


          We moved the boats to Coco Bay on the south side of Little Ragged Island, got in one last lobster and conch hunting session, and went to bed early preparing for a midnight departure.  We are currently making our way to Mexico, which is quite a haul, so we’ll probably be off the radar for a little while. We would like to thank the Bahamas for helping us cut our teeth at sailing, being very generous with its underwater bounty, and for overall being extra friendly with us travelers. Hope all our friends and family from key West, Jacksonville, and Fort Pierce all know we love them and are always thinking about them. We hope everyone has a wonderful beginning to the new year. Respect and Love to all,
Conor and Meg
Penny on hood ornament duty

And trying to be serious and resisting the love



pull the main scum bag

is it all the way up yet?
Nope, keep winching

and.......cleat it off, lock it up