Florida - the Final Chapter?

After five or so days of 25-30 knot winds, the weather prediction was for 10-15 with waves of 2 feet or less in the Gulf Stream. We had made several friends at Weech's Dock, and two other sailboats decided to make the crossing with us. This was a new experience, as we have always made the crossing alone, but turned out to be quite a fine one. We left Weech's around noontime, looking for a high tide to get through the challenging channel to South Bimini. This proved to be no problem, and we tossed out our anchor in about 9 feet of water near the old range marker, making sure to stay out of the channel. The other two boats followed shortly. A peaceful evening turned into an early morning departure as we had 75 miles to make to West Palm Beach - Lake Worth inlet. We left a bit before our two friends, but could see at least one of them all the way across and were able to maintain radio contact. The day started clear and sunny, but then a huge cloud bank moved in. We were fortunate not to have any rain (and truth be told, protection from the blazing sun was a blessing), but the wind really picked up as did the waves. We rolled in the Genoa and were sailing only on a reefed main. Our reefed rig, coupled with the power of the waves and the current of the Gulf Stream, proved to be a sailing machine! We were flying down six to eight foot waves, and our speed topped out at 11 knots! Don't think we will ever see that again...anyway we made the crossing in good time and Wayne once again did his cowboy imitation riding the huge waves into the Lake Worth inlet. Once inside, we dropped the main, started the motor for about 5 minutes and were soon enjoying a well-deserved "anchor beer". A convenient anchorage lies just to port of the inlet as you are returning from the sea, and our two friends were not far behind. Perhaps the crossing was a bit more adventurous than what I've portrayed: it's true that we both got a bit queasy, and the sight of the huge waves on the stern was impressive to say the least. But then again, perhaps it was just SO MUCH BETTER than last year's nightmare with lightening and howling thunderstorms that we've become a bit less impressionable. West Palm was fun, and Westerbeke/Universal treated us very well; the repair parts for the cam shaft/water pump job were there and our mechanic (Lee Ellis of Leeward Marine) was impeccable. The boat is now resting safely on the hard in Indiantown and is looking for a new adventurer to take her to her next destination. She is listed at www.sailboatlistings.com/view/13117
As for us, we've done the dream and have a new one: selling art. Looks like first thing may be a move to Ann Arbor, home of the University of Michigan and a return to civilization.

An Obama Nation - Bimini and goodbye to the Bahamas

Our stay in Bimini was unexpectedly long due to a lingering high pressure system and continued 25 to 30 knot winds. We again enjoyed the hospitality of Weech's Bimini Dock - an institution since the Hemingway days. To our surprise, the Big Game Club marina was closed due to lack of business. Their loss may have been Weech's gain as there were a half-dozen or so boats at Weech's including one large luxurious sport fisherman. The facilities had been significantly upgraded with the addition of a four-stall, four-shower ladies' room with two washbasins with mirrors as well. This left the older 2-stall, 2-shower ladies room to become the men's room. Finally, it took the Bahamians to figure out gender appropriate bathroom configurations. They are not known for their great support of women's rights. Perhaps this is a model for some of the more astute capitalists to pursue.

Our first foray into the streets of Bimini brought us to the Dolphin House. This house has been entirely constructed from surplus materials by a talented man named Ashley Saunders. He comes from a very old, established Bimini family and explained that when he was young, he was granted a scholarship by the Bahamian Government to study in Wisconsin. He gained a baccalaureate degree in literature at the University of Wisconsin (Madison) and returned as per his scholarship requirements to become a teacher on Bimini. He has written poetry, books, and a two-volume history of Bimini filled with numerous photographs. He also constructed the astounding Dolphin House which is notable for it's mosaic walls both inside and out. I will try to add more photos of the house, and more when possible.

We spoke with Ashley at some length, who among other relatives mentioned his brother Aslin. Aslin is a bone-fishing guide, boat builder, and lay minister. Among his accomplishments are having been the captain of the boat that brought in the world-record bonefish somewhere in the last 25 years or so...it's in Ashley's book. Because we had so much time and were enjoying learning about Bimini, we took the opportunity to walk to Aslin's boat building garage and have a peek at what he was up to.

A small hand-lettered wooden sign attached to a telephone pole marked the dead end street upon which Aslin's boat garage marks the end. As we approached the garage, a very trim, dark, slight, and freshly pressed man came out wearing dark blue slacks, a white polo shirt and a clean, crisp, navy blue baseball cap which read "Obama 2008". It did not take long for him to introduce himself as Aslin Saunders, and to invite us in to see the boat he was currently working upon. Wayne clearly enjoyed discussing the myriad different woods that went into the building of Aslin's special bone-fishing boats, as well as the techniques for hand construction of these marvelously beautiful wooden boats. Much of the wood he used was native to Bimini, but some of it was imported for the particularly important quality that particular species would provide the boat builder and boat. He and Wayne discussed the digging out of a particular tree root and stump in order to carve from it a strong, unified bow among other things as I looked around at the shop in general.

We have remarked again and again how well-loved President Obama is by the Bahamian people. Bumper stickers, t-shirts, baseball caps and even graffiti are greatly in evidence in all of the islands. Aslin had already proudly proclaimed his support of Obama by his baseball cap. Beyond that, however, one could see this is of central importance to him as at the very heart of his shop there is a mini-altar almost upon which stand a framed picture of Barack Obama being looked upon protectively by a small sculpture of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. The story was forthcoming.

Having finished with bone fishing boat-building discussion, Aslin turned his narrative to bone fishing itself. Indeed, his most famous client was the same Dr. Martin Luther King, who came to Bimini for some peaceful bone fishing during several tempestuous times in his life. Aslin proudly recalled Dr. King's arrival just a few days prior to his acceptance of the Nobel Peace Prize, and the joyous and profound conversation they shared in the gloriously alive and colorful world of the reefs of Bimini. Aslin is quite a poet and philosopher himself, and a fervently religious man in the Bahamian Christian manner. He recounted how they discussed the acceptance speech in addition to the broader aspects of the importance of this momentous occasion. The phenomenally beautiful Bimini-blue waters, abundant fishes and thick mangroves seemed a perfect example of God's great creation in peace and harmony. Aslin then remarked upon the fatefull change which he observed in the person of Dr. King upon his last visit to Bimini. Weary with his burdens, tired of the constant fight, and needing to find peace again, Dr. King visited Aslin one last time less than a week before his assasination. He looked as if he had aged a year for each month and had none of the excitement and passion he previously exuded. Aslin had written a psalm and dedicated it to Dr. King and was overjoyed to have this opportunity to recite it to the great man in person. An engaging and passionate orator, Aslin was kind enough to share with us the opening and closing lines of his lengthy psalm in a rapturous manner. The psalm is a celebration of the greatness of creation as seen within the simple magnificence of the abundant life in Bimini. With bittersweetness, Aslin explained that his recitation of the psalm gave some solace to Dr. King, who remarked that well it was he should be healed by this gentle spiritual man when his own faith did not seem enough any more. A remarkable man, a truly good man if there ever was one; Aslin Saunders. Less than a week later, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. was dead. Well of course this story moved me to tears and is powerful still in the recounting.

In the simple streets and on the gorgeous beaches of Bimini, a gentle world envelopped us until the wind relented to the point at which we could attempt to cross the Gulf Stream. Only about 50 miles from Miami is another world - a third world place to be sure - where time is slow and easy and history is much richer than meets the eye. We will remember Bimini for so many reasons, including Ashley and Aslin Saunders.

Sampson Cay to Bimini Bay

Sampson Cay Marina was a lovely, quaint haven tucked into a hurricane-hole like inside bay of the oddly-shaped cay. The buildings were stone and classic stucco, and the facilities more than adequate. A gravel road lead to one of the most stunning views available - an ocean beach on a rare sandy hillside which overlooked the back side of Fowl Cay and the intricate inter-cay passages running between Fowl, Sampson, and a number of other smaller cays. The incredible variety of shades of blue - from the narrow deep-blue deep water passages to the shimmering shades of the palest turquoise where the water skimmed over mere inches of white sand. There was a little pavilion at the top of the hill with a nice wooden plank floor and two large wooden beach chairs. It was a heavenly place to do yoga, pilates, read and just meditate with gentle ocean breezes and the sound of the surf making relaxation almost automatic. Add the vast sea of negative ions to this feast of color and warm sun and it is easy to see why the Bahamian concept of time is "relaxed" as well.

On our last evening at Samspon Cay, the marina owners held a little beach party and barbeque. Having learned my lesson at Black Point, we elected to cook on board, but could not pass up making an appearance. The school Easter vacation period was just ending, and a number of people were sad to be leaving for Nassau the following day as well. The little girl playing on the beach was the daughter of a cousin of the owners, and had been visiting with another cousin during her spring break. She was heartbreakingly cute and had been playing in the sand and water all day, hunting for crabs and bugs and whatever else she could find. I could not think of a more poignant image for this truly heavenly place.

Like the others, we awoke the next day for our own return to Nassau. In our case, however, this was a trip up to Norman's Cay and then a sail across the Yellow Banks. The trip to Norman's was ideal - a gentle wind, broad reach, and following sea pushed us up and into the shallow waters of the anchorage on the western side. The lee-side anchorage was calm and flat. We jumped into the dinghy and motored over to the beach for a reconnoitering and trip to McDuff's. We ran across some of our other cruiser friends from Nassau, and had a delightful conversation. We returned in the evening for dinner at McDuff's but were unpleasantly suprised to learn the prices had been hiked significantly and the younger generation of ownership lacked the gentility of the former. No matter, it's hard to ruin a good sail and good day in paradise.

The next day dawned upon our sleepy Norman's anchorage, and we raised the main for the sail to Nassau. This time the wind had shifted slighly and we were almost dead down-wind for the better part of the sail. Although it seems beneficial to have the wind and wave direction right on your stern, it is in fact a difficult point of sail. We tried to go wing on wing, but it just wasn't any fun and very hard to keep the Genoa full. There was, however, quite a bit of wind. We finally made the crossing on a reefed-down main and made Nassau in good time in the early afternoon. After flirting a bit with the idea of anchoring on the eastern edge of Nassau, we decided it was just too poor of a spot and went on the the Basra anchorage mid-harbor near the Harbor Central Marina. Great choice! Holding was strange but we traded our CQR in for the Danforth and hooked in well (luckily escaping most of the debris scattered about the bottom). The anchorage turned out to be more fun than we had imagined as the dinghy dock at The Green Parrot was always open to cruisers and they featured free wireless and a great happy hour. We dallied around Nassau for as long as needed in order to secure the right wind for the two-day trip to Bimini. We enjoyed a return to Atlantis and it's pools and aquariums as well as a walk around the old city. We met new friends and saw old cruising friends and had a great time in general. The weather forecast changed, and we saw what looked like a decent 3-day window to sail all the way to West Palm. So while others hesitated, we pulled up and headed out to once again face the tongue of the ocean - but this time with wind, waves, and current all pushing us in the right direction.

Pulling up the Danforth proved quite difficult, as was raising the main at the eastern end of the harbor. Wayne unfortunately aggravated an old back injury, but carried on bravely. This time we had a huge following sea to contend with - six to eight foot waves - but enough on an angle on the wind to sail up on a reach. About nine hours after lifting the anchor in Nassau, we arrived at our Northwest Channel Light waypoint and decided to keep on going as much as possible. We sailed until sunset and threw down the good old CQR in ten feet of water on the Great Bahama Banks. It was a rough and rocky night, but sleep was not the priorty. Making good time to BImini was our goal, and at the first hint of sunlight we weighed anchor and set out for the second-to-last leg of the journey. This time the wind was directly behind us, making for another diffucult sailing day. We let out the full main for a while, but the wind built and built and we had to reef it down again despite the loss of one to two knots of speed. We arrived near Bimini in broad daylight, and decided to take the "old way" into the harbor as the navigational buoys have still not been replaced. This involves lining up on a set of range markers on South Bimini and then simply reading the color of the water all the way in in order to avoid shoals and reefs. We've gotten pretty good at this. Now we are happily docked at Weech's Bimini Dock and having a SUPER time in Bimini. Our window disappeared as the wind and waves were too strong to carry on the next day but no matta, we're loving it here. That's the next story.

Incomparably Beautiful Bahamas!

Were unexpectedly way laid at Sampson Cay due to persistent strong northerly winds. It’s a good time to catch up with our adventures from George Town to this point. The best place to start is the sail from Cave Cay to Black Point.

One of the most pleasant sailing days we’ve had was spent on the scant 10 miles or so on a broad reach from Cave Cay to Black Point. The anchorage was practically deserted, so we sailed right in on the main and chose a perfect spot to drop the anchor. It was Easter Weekend, and it was our un-knowing good fortune to have arrived just in time for Black Point’s Easter Carnival. As the day wore on, the wind died more and more and the sun became intensely hot. We put up the bimini, plunged in the water a couple of times and went to explore the source of a constant dull roar of music and drumbeat.

We discovered the carnival booths in the center of town, offering games of skill, snacks, and cold beverages. The center of town is actually the basketball court of the schoolhouse, which is directly across from Scorpio’s Bar. It was mid-afternoon and most everyone was drinking a cold beer. For just one dollar, I played a game in which one was to stand behind a line and throw needlepoint hoops at a table loaded with prizes. To my great delight, I won a toothbrush which was something I actually needed. The place was teeming with small children with freshly braided holiday hairdos and loud, laughing Bahamian men with a Kalik in hand. Most of the shouting was coming from Scorpio’s so we went in to have a look. There were two main foci of interest; the NBA game on a big-flat screen TV and a game of dominoes happening at one of the tables. If you’ve never seen Bahamians play dominoes, you have missed something. They take turns slapping them down onto the table with a great smacking sound, while loudly discussing their various exploits and the relative ineptitude of their opponents. It is boisterous good fun.

We discovered that there was to be a number of tournaments the next day, including a pool (billiards) tournament and a dominoes tournament. We had hoped to play in the pool tournament, but the entry price was $20.00 per person and a little too steep for a game of pool. Instead we spent a couple of bucks on a couple of beers and had a chat with the guys around the bar. We met one particularly friendly guy named Steve, who claimed to work for JohnnyDepp at his Little Hall’s Pond Cay home. It appears the guy was totally legit. He said it was a great job as most of the time he got to just hang out in a luxurious island mansion with occasional visits from the Depp family. Steve had come over on a very fast boat, intending to spend some time in Black Point, as there was pretty much no other kind of action anywhere in this part of the Exumas on Easter Weekend. We laughed and joked quite a bit until it was time to get a bite to eat of dinner.

Dinner was limited to Jerk Chicken, peas and rice and cole slaw (Wayne selected beets instead…yikes!) as all of the fish had been sold out earlier in the evening. Everything tasted good, and we ate ravenously. Soon afterward, there was a Junkanoo Rush Out by a group from Nassau which proved to be the highlight of the evening. Moms, dads, grandmas, kids of all ages, black and (the few) white people were all soon dancing to the Bahamian beat and admiring the colorful costumes. Although I never managed to drink more than one beer, Wayne had one more and our evening ended up with a bit of sweaty dancing followed by a hasty retreat.

The next day I awoke to a gastric system in turmoil! Although Wayne didn’t feel too wonderful either, my symptoms were inexplicable due to anything other than the previous night’s meal which had basically sat around all afternoon with neither refrigeration nor heat being applied. Yes, the nurse in me knows that if you leave rice out all day, it is an excellent substrate for various naughty microbes that can wreak havoc upon the digestive system. Ah well. Fortunately the anchorage was as still as could be and we did not much more than swim around a bit and wait to feel better. A stash of canned Progresso chicken soup saved me from total starvation/dehydration, but I could not muster up the energy to go anywhere or do anything. Wayne rallied, however, and attended an evening outdoor rock concert that featured a well-known Christian rock singer. I enjoyed the music from the boat until I fell blissfully asleep. Wayne had a great time and the unique honor of being the only white person at the concert! (We are particularly proud to be able to talk about our current President and to say we worked to get him elected and are great supporters. The Bahamians love Obama as do we, and we are no longer embarrassed to say we are Americans. The “W” years were quite different in this regard.)

The next day was had a fine little wind to sail to Staniel – another 10 or so miles from Black Point. Big Majors Spot anchorage was full of immense motor yachts and catamarans, and one particularly enormous and beautiful dark and shiny mono-hull named Tenacious, whose mighty mast was visible for miles. We pulled in behind the fabulous giant 100+ foot long sloop and threw out the anchor. If you would like to see some incredible pictures, you can go to Charterworld.com and look up this boat. She is a 35-meter Triton sloop designed by Ted Hood and boasts, among other accessories, her own seaplane for shuttling guests to and fro. Sixty thou a week is all it takes to book the Tenacious. At least we know we were in good company.

Having a few days to spend in the Staniel area, we decided to explore some coral reefs. We found a quiet little area behind Fowl Cay and had a bit of snorkeling fun. The winds turned unfavorable, however, and we considered anchoring behind Fowl Cay instead. The anchorage behind Fowl Cay is only accessible from the banks side via a “VPR” – visual piloting route. This means that if you are unfamiliar with the waters, you must have extremely good skills reading water depth by color and avoiding shoals and coral heads. It can be scary stuff in a stiff wind. So we decided to try to have a happy-hour cocktail at the beautiful Royal Plantation Island resort. You can check this out at: www.royalplantationisland.com

Little did we know, one cannot simply show up there and have a glass of wine at the bar. The chef spied us looking lost, and offered to bring us up to the dining room and put a glass of wine for each of us on his tab (!) He then kindly brought up a number of promotional brochures and explained that, should we like to reserve for another day, we could have dinner and drinks for $100 per person. We managed NOT to choke upon the wine at that moment and give this option a real thought. You really have to visit the website to see how appealing this was, despite the steep price. We reserved for two nights hence and dinghied back to Cassiopeia, who looked phenomenally small in the shadow of Tenacious. In fact, it always looked like we were anchored far, far away from Tenacious, until we were right upon her. Our diminutive size coupled with not only the physical aspects of perspective but also profound unfamiliarity with a sloop of that size played tricks upon our minds. Still, she was a pretty sight to see just off our port bow!

Regrettably, the anchorage became so rough that we both suffered un peu de mal de mer or ocean-sick tummies. This resulted in more consulting of the charts to see where in the world we could tuck in. That morning I convinced Wayne to take the dinghy over to Sampson Cay, where there was a little marina that seemed very possible. We both found it to be charming and therefore sacrificed the elegant dinner at Fowl Cay for a slip at Sampson Cay. That’s the next story.

Sweet sailing

We left Georgetown with a handful of other boats, out into the sound with the wind at our back and a following sea. Regretfully, it was quite rolly, making it a tough sail for me but thank goodness for compazine and a lovely, sunny day. We made it up to Cave Cay handily, actually outpacing the larger boats due to our light weight and captain Wayne's masterful sailing. We hit the cut right at slack tide, turned the motor on with the main up and sailed through no problem. A quiet night on the anchor was following by a beautiful little day sail to Black Point. There we enjoyed the Easter festivities for a couple of days, and then another little hop to Staniel Cay where we are presently. We arrived yesterday morning, and looked out upon a sea full of huge, power yachts at Big Majors spot. They all left after Easter Monday, and now we are again quietly anchored by our favorite "Swimiming Pig Beach". We got out and dinghied around Fowl Cay and the back cays, and did some wonderful snorkeling. The reefs don't look anything like what they did 30 years ago when I first saw them, but it's still quite an experience to see all the brightly colored fish and live coral heads. We will probably spend another few days here, then head up to Bell Island, Shroud Cay, Norman's Cay and finally cross the yellow banks to Nassau. We'll be able to post up some pictures of the Easter Junkanoo from Black Point as well as some of the gloriously quiet days on the hook. Heading north with the prevailings is just SO much better than beating into the wind and waves on the way south. Despite our slightly crippled motor, we don't anticipate any significant problems getting home.

Heading Home

We are poised to head out tomorrow, up to the Cave Cay cut and then duck in there for the night. We hope to move on to Black Point the next day, and then figure out a strategy to use the winds to get to Nassau. The engine can be run for about an hour at a time, so our sailing skills will be put to the test. The generally nice spring weather is on the plus side of the balance sheet, so although slow our sailing should be safe and pleasant. We'll update the blog when we get to Nassau in about 7 to 10 days. Happy Easter!

Still Down and out in George Town

The crazed, blistering pace of the Cruising Regatta has completely disappeared, along with most of the boats. Warm, indolent breezes have replaced the unusually brisk and cold winds that plagued this year’s “season”. Even so, boats are streaming out of the harbor each morning, announcing their farewells on VHF for the remaining pilgrims to mourn over. The few that are left behind mostly cherish this quiet time, and the opportunity to practice listlessly relaxing activities such as hanging out and walking on the beach.

With the change in weather, the oceanside beach has become calm, allowing the seashells to repopulate strategic coves and crannies. I say strategic, as Wayne and I are working every morning now at collecting a maximum amount of shells before any other lame-o cruisers get to it. Perhaps you think that shell gathering is easy work? Although rewarding to be sure, it is back-breaking, sweat-producing and damp. Today we brought two large bottles of water along, and drained them easily before half time. Sometimes, if suddenly changing from stooped and squinting to erect and squinting, your head spins and you feel like you may pass out. Some people call this positional low blood pressure or a vasovagal response. I call it dehydration, mixed with late-night bonfires and hot, hot sun. Wayne did remark we are getting pretty brown. Occupational hazard.

These last couple of weeks, we’ve been hanging out with a bunch of musician types. We first saw Chad and LeAnne from Cambration in Black Point. At that time I noticed that they were painfully young and thin. My maternal instincts reared up, and I insisted to Wayne that we would have to have them to the boat for dinner sometime to fatten them up. In the meantime, they managed to get married – first the “religious” ceremony in Staniel and then the “official” ceremony here in George Town. We had dinner with them and our new friend Lee from Krasna the other night aboard Lee’s boat. It was charming getting to know them, and hear their story of young romance. What was shocking, however was to learn that Chad had written a computer program which allows you to catalogue your boat lockers by content and location. He says he had to do this because they have $2500 worth of canned goods stored in various locations all around their boat. Sheesh, those kids have more food that we do!

So, Chad’s a great guitar player and singer, and Lee is also very fun. Lee has a more off-beat guitar playing style and a great baritone voice for which he stands out at sing-alongs. Lee is also remarkable for his great, piercing blue eyes, thick tangle of grey ponytail stuffed under a do-rag, and colorful past. The guy has been in jail any number of times, escaped three times under his own power and was unleashed by the US Embassy on various other occasions. Lee is a photo journalist who specializes in covering war zones. He can’t really recall all the countries (and jails) he’s been in but they include places like Colombia, Venezuela, Bosnia, Croatia, Afghanistan, etc. He spent the last 15 years living in the Czech Republic with his wife (a professional musician) and child but is now single-handing his 42-foot ketch as his wife decided their gig was up. He is a wonderful guy who has forgotten more great stories about his life than he can remember. We can only hope he’ll write a book someday.

The other musicians we’ve been hanging out with are Chris and Sarah from Moonraker and Gary and Celeste from Sol Surfin’. Chris and Sarah are small, dark, and delicately-boned. They live in the Chesapeake, not far from our intended new home of Chestertown, Maryland. Gary and Celeste are from California. To those of us from the UP, that’s about as exotic as being from the Bahamas so I’m tempted to leave it at that; but I really can’t. Gary looks too young to have such a fab boat – a large and gorgeous catamaran – and plays a mean guitar with a penchant for acoustic Led Zep. Celeste has long brown hair, lovely soulful brown eyes, and looks like a fertility goddess. She is totally adorable and a wild-ass party girl. Oh, to be young again. Last night the aforementioned usual suspects assembled at Sand Dollar Beach – about a 2-mile dinghy ride for us – for a bonfire and musical jam session. We were joined by a smattering of others and had a rip-roaring good time. Wayne and I were lucky to be back aboard Cassiopeia by midnight: last time we spent a musical evening aboard Sol Surfin’ we didn’t get back till two in the morning. We’re just too old for that anymore. (Sad but true.)

Now as to the engine; we have good news and bad. Wayne managed to hook up a 12-volt freshwater pump which bypasses the usual system and therefore we can run the motor with a careful eye on the temperature gauge and the RPMs. We hope to only have to run it for entering and exiting harbors and going back through the cut at Cave or Galliot Cay. Bottom line is that it works. We managed to obtain a spare pump as well from another friend. We are pretty sure we can make it back to the states with not too much problem. The other good news is that Universal/Westerbeke is willing to send the parts needed to repair the cam shaft to a marina in Lake Worth (Palm Beach area). The bad news is that we’ll have to buy a new water pump and pay for all the labor to effectuate this repair. The guy helping Wayne here in George Town is another cruiser named Roger Wrona aboard a big trawler named Rollsdoc. Roger is a Yooper! So’s his wife! His family comes from Bruce Crossing and she comes from Watersmeet. Small world. Roger already gave us a lot of help, and is willing and able to do the job for us if and when we get to Stuart, Florida. He’ll be on a mooring ball there and in fact it could all work out OK. At any rate, it has to work out OK one way or another, but it’s just funny how Yoopers pop up at the strangest and best time some times.

So that’s it for now. We expect to be leaving George Town in a week or two and hop slowly up the Exumas. Since we intend to sail primarily, these will be short hops. But that should offer us the opportunity to do some fine snorkeling and watching for the green flash. Hey, life could be worse. We could be in Fargo with imminent flooding at the same time as looming blizzards. Damn, now that’s some bad weather.

After the Regatta - Relaxation!

What a time it was, attempting to get everything done in George Town! This year Wayne was the "Regulation Volleyball" Chairman - meaning he had to organize and participate in the volleyball tournament for the "real" or "good" players. He had five teams entered, and it went generally well. They played from around 9:30 am to 1:30 pm, and were hot, sandy and tired. The final round was very exciting with the two undefeated teams meeting and playing very agressively despite their fatigue. In the end, youth won out. All had a great time. Previous to the tournament, Wayne and I had participated in the "Coconut Challenge" again, and had been practicing for our world debut at the Bahamian Music Festival at Regatta Park, George Town. Regrettably, our world debut with "Folks on Boats" was slightly marred by an overwhelming sound system, lack of sound check, and a broken guitar string which made everything sound totally different. Even so, we didn't get booed of the stage therefore considered the experience a marginal success. After that, Wayne played in the tennis tournament and myself in duplicate bridge. Wayne's team came in third in tennis, and my partner and I came in second place in bridge. This was to the amazement of many of the other players, mais c'est comme ca les copins...My partner is the delightful Dave from High Noon, the same Santa Claus/Teddy Bear who saved us in Nassau from having to attempt to row to the gas station. (In a soft-bottom 12-foot dinghy this is no mean feat...) Dave is a bridge whiz, and my skill set is minimal but creative. Dave calls my playing "Star Wars" bridge because he says I play as if I figure that, "the force is with me..." Yup, that's about right. At any rate, it works in duplicate situations but confuses the heck out of a lot of people.

Regatta week finished up with a "Variety Show" at which the Folks on Boats played again. This time, the kind sound team spent two hours on our sound check and we sounded fantastic! My children will never believe that I got to be the lead singer and front the band. It was a ton of fun, but we were absolutely exhausted by this year's activities.

Now the weather is warmer but we are soon to endure another Norther and have tucked in deeply to a protected anchorage. Boat life is fun, but the aspect of camping is now wearing a bit. No running water, no real bathroom facilities and an endless series of chores related to the acquisition of water, food, etc. can be daunting. No matter, as the photo shows, it is beautiful beyond words here when the weather is nice and judging from the reports from home we are lucky as heck to be here.

Hard at Work in Gtown

The pace has picked up as the Cruising Regatta looms large in the Elizabeth Harbor anchorage. Wayne is totally hooked on his Total Immersion swimming program, and is practicing in the 74-degree water now as I sit at J&K on the internet again. He is the busy one this year, with daily volleyball practice and competition, as well as meetings of the various activity chairmen and putting together a band. He has taken it upon himself to put together this year's version of "White Folks on Boats". The cruisers were requested to do so and to participate in the Bahamian Music Festival to be held in late March. This is a tradition that has gone on for quite some time and it would be a shame not to participate. So, we are going to perform his new original "Georgetown Funk" as well as a few other songs, accompanied by a couple of other cruisers on guitars. Wayne will sing a couple of songs, our friend Doug will sing a couple, and I am mortified by the idea that they want me to sing a couple of songs as well. I probably will not load that performance up to UTube as my singing has never been of the appropriate calibre. Be that as it may, what happens in Georgetown, stays in Georgetown. There is ridiculously little other news to report except that our friend Mary will be arriving soon with her sister. We look forward to hanging out with them at the Peace and Plenty pool and perhaps even taking a real shower.

Georgetown, week One

We’re closing in on the end of a week in Georgetown. Although the activities, places, and faces are largely the same, it doesn’t “feel” quite the same. The economic disaster wrought upon the world by G.W. Bush and his cronies has stretched its long tentacles into the cruiser community. Some of last year’s longtime cruisers were forced to sell their boats and get jobs. Others simply stayed home. The clan of adventuresome young Canadians who came down either in pairs or with young children has vanished. The die-hards remain – those who sold their homes long ago for big, comfy boats and the Georgetown lifestyle. Folks whose wealth was so massive and secure that they have withstood the shitstorm are also here. That leaves a few of us ragged cruisers in little boats who were really pretty marginal to begin with and have remained so. The anchorage has a bit more of a right-wing feel to it. This is nicely counterbalanced, however, by the continued presence of the older French Canadians en masse. They were adventuresome youngsters themselves once, and remain buoyant and raucous. (Read: they are still liberal party animals.)

Wayne is the Chairman of this year’s Regulation Volleyball Tournament for the upcoming Cruising Regatta. He has been playing every afternoon at the four-on-four, bump, set, spike courts where the level of competition is high. I’ve been inserting myself into more and more of the “fun” volleyball games where any idiot can walk on the court and make a fool out of her/himself. Well, I guess I’m getting slightly better at it, but it’s still just a diversion and nothing I can claim I can really do.

Beach Bridge is still fun when I can put a game together. My partner from last year has already left for further south and I haven’t put together a solid partnership with anyone else yet. No matter, pickup games are almost always possible. My pilates classes are picking up in terms of attendance, and people never cease to ask me to become involved in various skits and activities during Regatta week. You have to be a good sport about this kind of thing, it really is fun if you just relax and get involved.

Wayne has been taking a class in a swimming technique called “Total Immersion”. He has been coming home significantly water-logged and has had dripping sinuses ever since, but has stuck with it. It’s a technique designed for long-distance swimmers and triathletes in which the glide phase of the crawl stroke is elongated and exaggerated and the body literally corkscrews through the water. Today is the last class, so I’m interested to join them and see if Ican’t learn a thing or two as well. After that; practice, practice, practice. According to the instructor it takes 5000 strokes to really get the technique. The class is held in a lovely mini-bay with a mini-beach where the water is less choppy and there is no dinghy traffic. To be sure, it’s a gorgeous setting and the weather has been superb. There are worse places to go and get your work done.

Georgetown, at last...

We picked an excellent two-day window to get to Georgetown, and arrived yesterday afternoon around 4pm. There was very little wind on Thursday, but we got a little bit of "mo" out of it on a close-hauled reach and arrived at Cave Cay mid-afternoon no problem. There were quite a few boats already anchored there, and another selection anchored outside the Galloit cut. We chose the Cave Cay cut for three reasons: 1. it is straightforward and short. 2. it is deep. 3 we have been in and out of it before. Yes, it's narrow but we only have a nine foot beam. We met a very charming couple aboard Sweetwater, Hattie and Ludo, who were anchored just in front of us. We jumped in the beautiful, clear, turquoise water for a swim at just about the same moment they did, which prompted a floating conversation. They were also headed to Georgetown on Friday, and had spent the previous week in Black Point. That evening we enjoyed an outstanding sunset, which had all the potential for the green flash. As the huge, orange-yellow orb slipped out of sight, I turned to Wayne to remark upon the missing flash. Just at that same moment, the whole anchorage erupted in screams of delight - the flash was small, but there! Wayne saw it, I missed it. Can only hope to see it again another time.

The next day we made slow headway through the cut due to lingering current (two and a half to three knots) but we were steady and made it out fine. The wind again gave us just the slightest angle, but the sound was smooth and it was a relatively uneventful day. Entering Georgetown (Elizabeth) harbor is a four or five-step maneouver, which we had programmed into the GPS as well as consulting the sailing guide for visual clues. We navigated the entrance successfully and came to rest at anchor right in front of the Monument, as before. After a celebratory boat beer, we pumped up the dinghy and took a walk on the beautiful ocean beach, which has re-established itself after last year's devastating storm. As we were returning to grab a burger at the Chat-n-Chill, we found our friends Pam and Oliver out relaxing in their cockpit. They invited us for a quick drink, then off to a burger and fries. It's heavenly to be back!

Get to the Point, Stick to the Point

The wind has not ceased to blow 15 to 25 knots for about a week now. It has been east to northeast the entire time. Since our trusty Tohatsu did not like the bashing into the waves on the dinghy ride from Big Majors Spot to the Staniel Cay Yacht Club, we decided we needed to make a move. We had planned a lovely breakfast at the Club and then attending church services on Staniel. Fearing dinghy motor failure, we elected to move to Black Point instead, where the dinghy ride to the town dock is much shorter. What a great decision this proved to be. After exiting the Big Majors anchorage and rounding Sandy Cay, we were able to turn the motor off and sail a mere 6 nautical miles to Black Point close-hauled. The Black Point anchorage is large and fine, easily entered from the south by running parallel to the coast. Supposedly we should be protected from the ENE wind, but it seems to sweep up over the island cliffs and down into the anchorage. Being that there is no current to worry about, it’s still a comfortable, if windy, place to swing.

Black Point is the governmental headquarters for the northern Exumas, from Highborne Cay to Big Farmers. It is a nice little out-island town with colorful little houses and friendly people. The town is very cruiser-friendly on a nice safe bay for anchoring with free garbage service and community water. The water tastes weird, but it is safe to drink so who cares? It’s free! Cruiser central seems to be Lorraine’s Café, where you can get lunch or dinner, self-service beers and sodas in the large refrigerator, trade in your books, and access wifi and three or four of her PC towers in the “internet lounge”. Internet access is available for a donation of your choosing. It’s slow, but it’s always slow down here. It’s lovely, quaint, clean, and fun to meet up with other cruisers and discuss adventures. Lorraine’s mom offers home-baked bread on a daily basis, and will take in your washing. Her grandma gets in the act with pastries and sweet rolls. Like almost everyone else on the island, Lorraine’s last name is Rolle. (There is Rolletown on Great Exuma, and Rolles populate a significant part of this chain of islands.) There is also DeShamon’s restaurant and rooms, and the Scorpio Bar. It always pays to be careful around Scorpios, so we have not yet sampled their offerings. They do have incredibly reasonable prices on sandwiches, so we may have to be brave and just plunk ourselves down in there one time.

The anchorage faces a horseshoe beach which dries very far out at low tide. This morning we took a great run which lead us to the northern edge of the anchorage the rocky, coral spine of the island (Great Guana). The sun is shining brilliantly again, and the combination of fresh ocean breeze and bright sunshine was invigorating. The moon is full presently, which sets up a lovely view around 6pm at which time the fiery orange ball of the sun plunges quickly into the west while the moon reigns in her silver splendor high in the eastern sky. We had hoped to catch a green flash again, but no luck last night. It was so lovely, and we are so close to Georgetown, that I asked Wayne to pull out the conch horn and give ‘er a blow. To our delight, the call of Wayne’s horn was answered by a number of other boats at anchor with their own conch creations. We are really not far now, only 50 or so miles from Georgetown. The sunset conch concert really brought home or proximity to our destination and the idea that we are going to get there.

The wind should die down on Wednesday, so our current plan is to sail to Cave Cay on Thursday. We’ll anchor there for the night in preparation for going out the Cave Cay cut and into the sound on Friday for the last 30 miles of our trip. The wind is predicted to be very light and dead on east, so we should be able to get some kind of reach going. The “sound” is hardly a sound like you might see on the ICW, it’s a BIG piece of ocean that happens to have islands on either side. It is to be respected and feared. Knowing that, we are looking at Friday as our best opportunity because it should be very calm. Still, sailing is full of surprises. We’ll just have to see what it’s like when we get out there.

Oh, and as for the title of this post – this is what is painted on the seawall at Black Point. It’s the first thing you see when you arrive at the dinghy dock. Good advice.

On to Black Point

We had a great following wind across the Yellow Banks, preceded by an interesting time getting out of the TPA Marina. The manager was not anxious for us to leave at low tide, so we waited until 10am at which point it took three guys to handle our lines as we had to back straight out, then make a 90 degree turn to port, then zoom past the big power boats before the wind and currents could catch us. Our sailor friends understand how interesting this can be. We were successful and had a long day to Norman's Cay. The anchorage was over-crowded as it is small and arranged in a narrow curving arc of deeper water with coral and sand on the other sides. We touched once, but managed to get a decent spot upon the third try. Bumpy night, then on to Staniel. Great, huge anchorage at Big Majors Spot, no problem getting a great space but now both our dinghy motors are not working well so we'll have to move on tomorrow to Black Point where the dinghy ride to town is about one tenth of what it is here. It's ok - we've never seen Black Point before and it is the second largest settlement in Exumas (only Georgetown is larger). The fun never ends.

Surviving Nassau and on to Staniel

Here is the "Leap of Faith" which figured so prominently in our last post. After spending all day at the marvelous water park in Atlantis, we spent the evening aboard the Maratani X for the Super Bowl. Much less dangerous in the water park, as refreshments flowed freely during the evening, resulting in a sluggish day after. Go Steelers. Today a rainy front has been persistently sprinkling everything so as to ensure sogginess inside and out. It's our day to provision for the 2-day run to Staniel Cay tomorrow and Thursday. The weather isn't great but isn't too bad - the wind swinging northwest, then north, then northeast at 15 to 20 knots. Hopefully we will not have a replay of the trip across the banks, but this is our only opportunity and it's been great but it's time to leave Nassau. More news from Staniel when we get there.

Atlantis

We made delightful new friends here at the Poop Deck a couple of days ago. Upon arriving at the bar, I struck up a conversation with the lady next to me, a tiny blond lady sitting next to a seriously salty, blue-eyed sailor. She is Sandi and he is Captain Mike of Aquabelle, a beautiful mega-yacht. We have been practically inseparable since. More news on this when I can post up the pictures, but the most fantastic outcome of this chance meeting is that we spent all day yesterday at Atlantis Resort on Paradise Island playing in the water park. Captain Mike was able to get additional crew passes as we had helped him bring the boat to the marina on a blustery, difficult day. Interesting to see there are still enough wealthy people in the world to populate this incredible place. You have to look it up on the internet, it would take me too long to describe it. Highlight of the day: The Abyss. This is a fully enclosed water slide, most of which is in complete darkness. This is a good thing. If you saw what you were about to do, you might think more than twice about the wisdom of this idea. It starts with a 60-foot almost vertical dead drop, then hurtles you around (still in the dark) several fast curves, a brief spit into sunlight, and finishing once again in the dark into the splashdown pool. At first you cannot even breathe. You wonder what the hell is happening to you in the dark. Next, you realize you must breathe, but there is not even enough breath to scream, only that which is sufficient to keep your lungs inflated with air, not water. Next, a glimpse of sunlight, which appears to be reassuring but in fact is not, as you realize you are no where near done yet. Gulping a big breath in this time, you plunge back into blackness and your brain starts to believe you are going to survive as you are deccelerating somewhat. Finally you arrive in the splash pool, shaking all over. Relief floods through your body, but the adrenaline is still so high that you take that big lungfull of air and whoop like an idiot. Then, you gotta laugh. Why do adults do this kind of thing? I dunno - maybe training for the next exciting sailboat adventure.

The Terrible Tongue

I am now sitting at the dock of the Nassau Yacht Haven, waiting for the customs officer to come and clear us in so I can go get a shower. After three days at sea, one becomes a bit ripe. This is to say that simple pleasures are about all I can think of after the terror on the tongue. Read on if you dare.

It was a very simple matter to once again lift the anchor and sail off on the ocean, leaving behind the banks and setting up our course to cross the tongue of the ocean. This is a deep, tongue-shaped channel that comes right in from the Atlantic Ocean. A part of the Bermuda Triangle intersects the tongue, and it is theorized that the legendary city of Atlantis may be under its fathoms of dark, unpredictable waters. We had always heard one should approach this crossing with the same sacred reverence as that of the Gulf Stream crossing. Our weather forecasts predicted for Nassau and Bimini a nice 5 to 10 knot ENE breeze, perhaps building to 10 to 15. It was no surprise that the water was far more turbulent than that of the banks, and the wind started out just as expected. The easterly component of the wind became more prevalent, while the waves were moving in a southwesterly direction, setting up what I call “bashing through the waves”. Since Max was already running full steam ahead and we were making very slow progress, Wayne decided to put up both the main and the jib (or Genoa if you prefer). The wind continued to increase, as did the amount that the boat heeled. Up and down the waves she heeled, side to side. Add to that a close-haul on an increasing wind and we were simply put, slanted most of the time. Now words of wisdom rang in my brain from my diesel mentor, Claude. Axiom number one: when in doubt, don’t go out. Corollary D (for diesel) number three: the diesel does not like to run when the boat is heeled, as the oil in the oil pan may not be getting to the engine.

Fate or a slip of the foot? We still don’t know. While attempting to gracefully climb the stairs of the companionway and join Wayne in the cockpit, my foot may have slipped and accidentally pulled on the kill cord. (Sheesh, what is the kill cord? It’s the little line that Wayne rigged to the cable that turns off the motor. Why? Because the actual cable is still too stuck and/or corroded to be usable, so you have to go down below and pull the little kill cord to turn off the boat. Boat joys.) Mere moments after I climbed out, the engine sputtered and died. I apologized and explained I may in fact have slipped on the stairs, thus pulling the cord inadvertently. At first, Max did not want to start up again. Wayne decided to try his luck with the wind instead as he could make almost as good speed with just the sails as with the combination. Soon it became evident, however, that we were not going to make Nassau by nightfall if we didn’t have a motor. I blurted out Corollary D Three, and we tried to right the boat as best as possible. We also noticed a landmass to our port side. We figured out this was Chub Cay, but having heard the marina there is closed down and knowing from last year that there is basically NOTHING on Chub Cay, we decided to press on if the engine restarted. After a few sputters, it did. Fabulous! On to Nassau then. There is nothing but tongue between Chub and Nassau, so this was not a commitment to be taken lightly. But with provisions and fuel measured for three days, we figured we had a better shot at a reasonably enjoyable life if we made the crossing. The wind was predicted to blow 15 to 20 the next day, and we did not want to be stuck in Chub with little food and no place to provision or get fuel.

As the day wore on, the wind increased. This resulted in more heeling – but what to do? One of the smartest decisions we made all day was to reef the main at this point. Max was thrumming along and we were bashing through as best as possible. Even so, we figured making the harbor by dark was going to be dicey. Then we saw them: the big buildings on New Providence. Exultation! We are making it!

Hold on there, podner. Don’t rejoice too soon because the tongue was not done with us by a long shot. Just as the tops of the buildings were coming into view, Max had enough and quit again. Shit! Shit, shit, shit! The wind is now 20 and increasing, and we are engine-less. We can see them, we just can’t get there. But we have to. So, luckily we are on a sailboat and we are going to sail the boat into Nassau harbor. We have absolutely no choice in the matter. We can’t stay out here, and there is nowhere else to go. There is no closer harbor. The only other possibility at the west end of New Providence is not really a harbor and we need to get into some protection. Wayne correctly guessed that Max’s fuel was so low that it wasn’t making it into the line when we were heeled to starboard, and our rumbline was a starboard tack. Luckily, the GPS is still working and we are determined to get there. Despite the sun being high in the afternoon sky, we knew we would not make the safety of the harbor before nightfall. Nothing to do but press on.

We started this adventure around 6am. We figured on getting in at 5pm, maybe earlier. The sun sets around 6pm, and then it is DARK. We figured that Nassau would probably give off a goodly amount of ambient light – as did Miami – and sailed on. This time, we really did sail. It was disheartening to a certain extent, but there was no use in doing anything but trying to be the best team possible. So, it’s 3pm or so, Nassau is only ten miles away. We can make it. We notice that we are losing ground and dropping below our rumbline. We are going to have to tack up. We try out Max on our port tack, and he comes right to life! We tack up almost 2 miles above our course, because we know we are going to fall back down. We get all we can out of Max, and tack back down.

The tacks were inelegant with me at the helm, and the subsequent trying to draw close to the wind so that Wayne could tighten up the lines was fraught with mistakes. We were back-winded. Our lines got stuck. I didn’t think I had the strength to sheet in the lines, but also didn’t really have the skill to hold the helm in what were now 25 knot winds. Somehow, we untangled ourselves and set upon what we hoped to be our final port tack. By now, we’ve been sailing quite a while but are still 8 miles away due to wind drift, etc. It still looks far. Wayne says, “It looks like we’re not getting any closer!” to which I can only respond, “Don’t say that.” I know we are getting closer because the GPS says we are. Ye of little faith, enter not into my house of pain. We hold this tack as long as possible, but this time when we drop below our course, we have no choice but to tack up again in order to avoid the coral reefs on the northern edge of New Providence. Another inelegant, struggling tack. The captain is tired but not defeated. We tack WAY up (under sail only now) because by God this is going to set up our approach and we are going to get in there!
We tack up a mile and a half or so. Yes, it’s been dark for a while but who cares? We are salt-sprayed and starving, running on high-test adrenaline and not much else. I finally come to my senses, and let Wayne take the helm for this take. I’m pleasantly surprised to find I can sheet in just fine and then change places with him so he can crank the jib real tight with the winch. Wind is howling at 30 knots now, with big, mean ocean rollers directly off the Atlantic, and we can make no better than about four because we have to sail so close to the wind. Now the next challenge, where is the entrance?

During this time, I hear snippets on the VHF and learn that our Canadian pals on High Noon and White Diamond are in town as they call to each other on 16. I want to radio them and say, “Come and get us!” but that is of course impossible. I want to see my big friend and George Town Bridge partner, Dave, and get a big hug from him. I want to get off of this boat! But there is work to do before that can happen.

The bright lights of Nassau became a sea of red, green, blue, white, and multi-colored data bits. Which ones mark the entrance channel? No use trying to use the binoculars, because the boat is crashing through waves, up and down, and heeling like mad. Wayne is a madman at the helm, holding her through this mayhem. I’m supposed to figure out which lights, in this smorgasbord of lights, are the ones we are looking for. Christ, I don’t know! (But I cannot say this, as the only thing to do in this situation is to remain eerily calm and don’t say much). I decide that I am going to write a letter to the authorities, urging them to ban the use of red or green lights on buildings and places of business as these should be used EXCLUSIVELY for nighttime navigators. Wayne asks me to look at the chart a get a compass course for the harbor entrance. This is literally impossible in the dark on the heaving boat. I urge him to use the GPS, as I know my waypoint marks the midpoint between the first pair of red and green buoys marking the harbor entrance. He submits to my logic and we bash on.

We are getting closer and closer, Wayne again requesting me to point out the entrance. I’m looking, really looking. I look at the GPS, and it says the harbor entrance is a quarter-mile away and we are a quarter-mile high of our course. Then I say, “Green, red. Green, red.” It becomes a little mantra. I think I see it. I do! I see it! I direct his attention down to where I see a beautiful sight: a pair of flashing green and red buoys, just where the GPS says they should be. OK, we are going to make it into the harbor! I keep the faith, and convert the captain to the church of the GPS.

But now what, we are flying on a reefed main and a cranked-down jib on a 30-knot wind into a major harbor with nothing but a wing and a prayer left. We form a plan; to starboard of the last red buoy marking the channel there is a little anchorage. Wayne will have to roll in the jib and I am to pilot us to a good spot to THROW OUT THE HOOK and hang on.

And here’s where the cowboy imagery comes in. Wayne turns down into the channel and we roar in there with 30 knots of wind propelling us as if we’ve been flung out of a slingshot. Wayne is flying through the entrance channel, tiller in one hand and main sheet in the other. Yeeeeeee Haw! Not a finer captain there is, he has been battling the sea for more than six hours now with nary a crack in his countenance. We pick out one buoy, then the next, the next, and finally our anchorage. We gotta slow down now! Up directly ahead there is a huge cruise ship. Wayne says, casually, don’t worry – we’ll just head over to the red and we’ll make, it. Yah, mon. By now, nothing matters and I turn on the depth sounder and take the tiller. I mean, even if we run aground we are safely in the harbor. I figure we are flat and I’ll give Max one more shot. He roars to life! I say, “Wayne, we have Max!” He says, “Yahoo! Head upwind and put the boat right there.” By some miracle I do this and we do not run aground. He gives the anchor a mighty heave and we are stuck! I mean, we are just where we want to be, not moving. The anchor is holding beautifully. We are safe. We are exhausted. We are hungry. We are wrung out. We are salty and stinky and nothing of it matters, because we are safe.

The down below looks like it’s been hit with a hurricane. There are charts, clothing, towels, dishes, and books helter skelter. No matter, Wayne puts the bridle on the anchor chain as I straighten up best as possible. When we both finish up, the boat is in working order and the captain requests a beer and some pretzels. I can’t even eat or drink anything for a while, the adrenaline is too strong. It’s 9:30pm. We were out bashing around for 6 hours in order to sail 10 miles. It’s crazy, but we are here. I manage to open a can of soup and saw through some stale French bread, accompanied by some warm Chardonnay out of a box, but it tastes wonderful and we are soon done in completely. We sleep and will figure out the rest tomorrow.

Monday dawned bright and sunny, and the sound of tour boat commentators and fishing boats prevails upon our coma-like slumber. We fall back asleep several times, with the usual confusing half-awake dreams. Finally it is time for coffee and we must rise and meet the challenges of the day. We know there is a little diesel left, but is it enough to get to the marina in a still-strong headwind? By 9am or so, I can’t stand it. I get on the radio and hail High Noon. To my amazement and inexpressible delight, Dave answers!

“High Noon, High Noon, this is Cassiopeia, come in please.”

“Hi there Cassiopeia, go to 09”

“Roger that. Hi Dave! How are you guys doing?”

“Glad to hear from you, how are you doing?”

“We’re OK. We are anchored in the west end of the harbor, after a pretty wild night sailing in…”

“How’s that?”

”Well, we lost our engine and literally sailed in, in a pretty big blow. We made it though.”

“Are you having engine problems?”

“Well, actually we ran out of fuel, but you know what it costs me to admit that to you.”

“Out of fuel, eh? Little lack of planning? Well, I have a jerry can here with 5 gallons of diesel. Would you like me to bring it over to you?”

“OK, well, will I have to worship you for the rest of my lifetime, or are you willing to put a time limit on it?”

“Oh, I’d say five or tens years will do…”

“It’s a deal! Also I will throw in a jug of your favorite flavor of Carlos Rossi.”

“I’ll be right over in five or ten minutes.”

“Dave, do I dare tell you I love you with Mary right there? You are my hero!”

“Stay put, I’ll be right there.”

Wayne and I high-five each other and scream. Dave is coming! We will have fuel! After all the foregoing drama, suffice it to say that arriving at the Nassau Yacht Haven with no difficulty and pulling into a safe, secure slip was the best end that we could ask for.

Steve the Magnificent and leaving Miami

If there is one guy you want to know in Coconut Grove, It’s Steve Visconti. This extremely nice gentleman fixed our Yamaha 8hp (the one that tried to take Wayne’s leg off, if you remember) for a pittance. He diagnosed all the problems, cleaned everything out, ordered and installed a new hub and prop, and the darn thing works beautifully! He did this on his own time as a favor to us at the request of Bill Beavers. The guy is a prince. He is a compact and muscular guy with deep brown eyes and a moderately long brown ponytail. He looks bad-assy enough that you would not want to cross him, but he is just the nicest guy. He is efficient in every sense, does not waste time, words, or resources. But when the circling helicopters in the previous blog turned out to be monitoring a boat that burned to the water line, he called us as soon as he got out of work to make sure we were alright. They don’t make a lot of guys like that. If you need your outboard fixed in the Miami area, you can email me and I’ll give you his phone number. You can’t go wrong with Steve. You can buy his cute little girl some clothes (preferably pink) if you want to do something a little extra for him. I sure had fun doing this.

Steve brought our motor back to us on Friday noontime, and by 2pm we were on our way to No Name harbor. We located our exit channel, ran all the way out and then ran it in reverse marking the waypoints for the morning’s escape in the dark. There is a playground of flashing lights out at No Name, marking several different channels. You really want to hit the right one, and at night it can get quite confusing. Having done all we could, including obtaining a full tank of diesel plus another 5-gallon jerry can as extra fuel supply, we tucked in for the night. We had discussed our plan with Bill and the boys at the bar: anchor at Nixon’s Harbor at Bimini, then on to the Northwest Channel Light over the banks, then straight away to Nassau – a three day voyage without getting off the boat. In this manner we could clear immigration and customs in Nassau at the marina, and save a lot of time and hassle. We discussed the amount of fuel we would need, and the boys gave us their blessing, stating we should have plenty to make the trip. Just three days to Nassau! And the first part was to be the hardest – crossing the Gulf Stream.

We awoke at 4am Saturday in order to get a 4:30 am start on the day. While Wayne pulled up the anchor, I couldn’t help but get a last look at Stiltsville, a strange little cluster of abandoned houses which were literally built on stilts in Biscayne Bay. The ambient light provided by the city was reassuring and took a bit of angst away from the darkness of our departure. We had obtained weather reports from all resources available to us, and this was to be our glorious 3-day window of light northeast winds and calm waters. Getting out the channel went smoothly, and then we were in the big ocean.

In order to make the crossing and account for the significant northerly current of the Gulf Stream, one must first sail south. We had been advised to sail south to Fowey Rocks – as we had last year – and then turn east, sailing about 115 degrees heading to make 90. Very soon after our turn, we felt the grip of the Gulf Stream. The waves are jumbled as the current moves north and the wind (if any direction other than south) pushes the top of the water in a different direction. The predicted wave heights were 2-4 feet, which is not too bad, and the slight NE wind would actually let us put up our main and give us more stability. Of great note is that, sailing of this kind is about 99% of the time an act which involves running the motor (whom we call “Max”) at just under top speed and adjust whatever sail we can put up according to the conditions. Getting the opportunity to put the main sail up offers not only a little boost in speed but also an important aid to Cassie so that she can cut through the water with less rolling around. Although the wind was predicted to increase that afternoon, the crossing got smoother and smoother as we cleared the main grip of the Gulf Stream and got closer to Bimini.

Perhaps it is worth remarking upon what this looks and feels like. Leaving Miami takes a long time in that the lights and buildings are visible for miles and miles. Even as we made our turn at Fowey Rocks, the sun broke upon the eastern horizon, lighting the glass facades of Miami Beach with a new and different glow than their nighttime neon. Seeing the sun rise and sailing straight for it brings a sense of relief and hope, as a couple of hours’ sailing in the dark into the great unknown is always a little unsettling. Then, finally, Miami disappears and there is nothing but ocean and an occasional other vessel. Wayne and I had both taken some anti-nausea precautions, and had absolutely no problem enjoying the day despite a lumpy ride. Our first sight of the islands was a cause for celebration – a few ragged palm trees punching up out of the vast blue blankness. The closer we got to Bimini, the calmer the water became and we were on the hook by 3pm. This was record crossing time and about the easiest one we’ve experienced so far. The gorgeous color of the water and view of the scattered cays to our south, all under a fair-weather sky was a true joy. We settled in for a nice evening and another early am departure.

Sunday morning came easy as we had little difficulty leaving the anchorage and following our waypoints to the Northwest Channel. This channel is the most frequently used passage from Bimini/Cat/Gun Cay to Nassau. It is usual to encounter several boats along the way, as well as the occasional big container ship or other commercial vessel. We were surprised at how few boats we saw on this glorious day. We did, however, see a school of dolphins who came to play briefly with our hull and moved on. Always a good omen. We figured we sure pegged the weather window right this time, as the long sail (read: motor running at almost full bore with the main up) was practically smooth and glassy with little wind. Unlike the Gulf Stream crossing, this was a more calm and protected day out in the ocean, as the water is only 2 to 3 meters deep over the whole of the banks. White sand reflected up through the water and endless clear skies resulted in a practically seamless transition from turquoise water to pastel blue sky, the horizon a blur in some far-off place. The sun shone with a strength that rarely is felt in the great white north, and to our great delight our auto-helm was capable of holding the course due to the great calm. We read books, took turns doing little chores and sporadically scanning the great blue vista for other boats or possible hazards. We had planned to anchor by dark, and just about 6 miles shy of the Northwest Channel Marker (just off Mackie Shoals), we threw out the anchor to the setting sun. It could be unnerving to some folks to just throw your anchor out in the middle of the ocean, but there really is no other way to do it and it’s really not too deep at this point.

That night was to be rougher than expected, not at all a replay of the idyllic day. Wayne worked hard to bring the various clanging and banging noises under control, but could do nothing to subdue the rolling of the boat as the wind had picked up and we were no longer on a glassy sea. The waves tossed us side to side and nobody got a lot of sleep that night. Small price to pay for such a heavenly day we thought, we had to get up early anyway for the final push on to Nassau. That
deserves a post of it's own.

Coco shuffle

We’ve now been twirling around the same mooring ball for about a week, waiting for the kind of fabulous weather we had on our way down here. Since our arrival in Coconut Grove, three cold fronts have swept through, creating an unlikely situation; freezing Floridians. Indeed, the government weather radio station issued severe warnings yesterday and today, instructing people in central Florida to wear hats and gloves to prevent hypothermia in the 30-degree chill. It’s true, we laughed. Thirty degrees Fahrenheit…ABOVE zero? No problem! But the folks down here just area not accustomed to anything freezing without refrigeration or the application of ice. It’s not very warm in the boat, but we have our trusty Coleman Lantern which produces an inordinate amount of heat, certainly sufficient to take care of our 9-foot by 12-foot living area. We also have plenty of gear to stay warm with, and so are handily surviving the weather emergency. What we are not doing is seeing any chance of leaving for the Bahamas until the weekend, when all the cold fronts will have moved off and dissipated. Despite east and southeast winds, we intend to motor across the Gulf Stream on Saturday, throw out the anchor, repeat for two days over the banks and tongue of the ocean, and arrive in Nassau Monday if all goes well. That will doubtless be another tale.

For the second time since arriving in the Miami area, we are listening to the drone of helicopters overhead for half an hour or more. The first incident occurred at the Miami Yacht club. We assumed that the police helicopters circling overhead were part of a movie or TV episode of some sort. That is not likely to be the case today, as the wind is gusting to 25 mph, the temperature unthinkably cold, and Biscayne Bay is mighty whipped up. A large group of young athletes is here, training for an Olympic-style sailing race this weekend. Perhaps there was an unfortunate collision or grounding, with young people stranded or hurt. Unlike the recent phenomenal landing of a large, commercial airplane in the Hudson River, errant boaters would be well-advised to stay in the water here as the water temperature is 40 degrees warmer than the air. Any Yooper can tell you that 70-degree water is like bathwater for goodness’ sake. The helicopters hovered for about 45 minutes while sirens screamed onshore and air horns blasted from the bay. We are reasonably stuck on the boat, not really wanting to brave much of the weather out there and waiting for Wayne’s dinghy patching job to dry. I expect we’ll learn what happened on the news tonight as happy hour at the club seems a likely prospect.

We did meet two lovely young ladies from Quebec – Miriam and Vanessa – who are here for the upcoming race. They are both long and lean, with wiry-strong whippet like physiques. They seem unbearably young to have driven three days from Quebec in a big pickup truck, but having seen the truck with their gear in it, I have no option other than to believe them. They speak French (of course) but their English is worse than my French, so they are delighted to be able to speak French with me. I am both delighted and horrified, as I love the opportunity to practice but I’m frequently embarrassed by my vocabulary lapses. Whatever.

Two nights ago, Bill Beavers finally pulled in from the Lauderdale to Key West race. It was late and dark and he and his only remaining crew were in their foul-weather gear. It must have been ugly. Bill pulled up to the dock as fast as he dared and darted out into the blackness to find his car, home, and a hot shower I imagine. We had the opportunity to chat with him last night at the bar. His twangy southern accent and expansive use of high-faluting phraseology was as charming as ever. He did not expound much upon the race, other than to say he and his crew “made a lot of mistakes” and that the party was not nearly as good as usual. But, he was in good cheer, and we were all in good beer. Many familiar faces from last year were crowding around the bar, and we had the pleasant opportunity to catch up with a number of acquaintances. After the usual round of pleasantries, Bill and his friends Lee and Tom began the story-telling in earnest. Sailors always have such barely plausible yarns about their misadventures, the more beer you imbibe the more you seem to be able to believe. We have a couple of our own favorites to pull out and share, but the repertoire of these old salts is vast and impressive. Lee sports a long, white ponytail and is usually garbed in Hawaiian shirts. This night being cold, he was appropriately attired in a sweatshirt and jeans. Spoils his look somewhat but one must bow to the weather. Tom is about my height – somewhere between five feet five inches and five feet seven inches tall. I don’t dare guess who outweighs whom between the two of us. He is an amazing font of knowledge, has truly sailed everywhere. No matter what neck of the woods we discussed, he had been there and done that. He even sailed the Duluth to Sault Ste. Marie race one time, and was able to describe the harbor in Marquette with sufficient accuracy that we were converted. You just have to believe the guy. Who else could have described the lift bridge in Houghton and Copper Harbor with such ease and aplomb? Tom is a fastidious dresser and always totally appropriate to the occasion. His staccatto laugh and rapid-fire delivery make him an effective and lively story-teller. His seemingly inexhaustible knowledge is extremely valuable for the relative novice. If he hadn’t informed us, how would we have known that the buoys marking the entrance channel into Bimini had been, “run over by some wild Cuban sport fishermen” and were still missing.

This concept requires some explanation. The entrance channel into northern Bimini’s harbor (where we stayed at the legendary Weech’s Bimini Dock) is narrow and difficult. On one side there are rocks which of course are strictly to be avoided. On the other side are shifting shoals. Current is always flowing through as we are talking the Ocean here, mon. (OK, except at slack tide if you are lucky enough to hit it just at the right moment of the day). The placing of channel markers was heralded as a major improvement last year, as the only way to navigate this spiny stretch had been to line oneself up on a couple of range markers until arriving at an indeterminate point and take a sharp left, running parallel to south Bimini’s shore until it becomes obvious that one has to change course in order to avoid either rocks or shoals. These adjustments are, of course, visually determined. The trick here is to figure this out quickly enough to avoid any obstacles while battling the aforementioned current. Enough said. After a few horror stories, we decided to take Tom’s advice, avoid the whole mess, and anchor off Cat Cay in preparation for our two-day run to Nassau. Dodged the bullet that time, podner. It would have sucked to arrive after having made the Gulf Stream crossing, only to run aground in the Bimini entrance channel. The Dude abides.

So capping the night off last night was the appearance of Miriam and Vanessa in search of WiFi. I took them over to the library and advised them to set their laptop upon the book return, which I have done so often. I left them happily Facebooking and chatting in Quebecquois, which only Claude and Doug can understand. Prior to leaving, I asked where they would be staying. I was surprised to learn that they intended to stay on Bill’s sailboat, Finesse, which is moored directly behind ours. Apparently this has become a tradition for Canadian sailors. It is mildly concerning that, when their coach came out on the launch to rouse them this morning, there was no response. But then, they are two cute French Canadian girls in Miami with literally hundreds of sailors. Glad my daughters don’t sail.

Back in the Grove!

We enjoyed our stay at the Miami Yacht Club very much as it afforded us the opportunity to head over to South Beach not once but twice! Our evening expedition was a re-do of last year's experience with the kids (almost)> We started at the Delano because it is always so strikingly beautiful, then on to some happy hour Mojito place on Ocean Drive, then dinner at the Grillfish and finally dancing at Mango's. Fun! Next day we headed over on the inexpensive and quick bus for a big beach walk and general sightseeing. This was all so easy as the Yacht Club is right on the bus route - just past the McArthur Causeway a wee bit. We were anxious enough to get going however, as the weather is developing rapidly. We left this morning and actually pulled the Genoa out for the first time on this trip for a little Biscayne Bay sail. We were almost golden - having located the correct Dinner Key entry channel and having navigated all the possible hazards there. We had the Coconut Grove Sailing Club firmly in our sights, and pulled up just short of their dock for further instructions. The guys motioned to the closest mooring ball to the dock, and Wayne set himself up to turn the boat so I could pick up the mooring ball with the boat hook. At this very moment, a slew of young kayakers were launching from the dinghy dock, right into our trajectory. This, coupled with a sudden gust of wind, meant that Wayne's intended path to the mooring ball was now invalid, and he had to swing around again. Alas, a wide turn was NOT what was in order, as the red ball to our stern was not a special mooring ball but in fact marked a shoal. Yes, our first grounding of the trip was right in front of a bunch of folks at the CGSC. It was a soft grounding, but no way we could get off ourselves. The dockmaster came out in his launch, and said he would pull us off with his big motor. Wayne stayed on the bow and I had the tiller as the guy pulled one way and then another. After several attempts in one direction (which succeeded in burying the stern instead of midships as we were), the dockmaster tried the starboard side and I felt the boat heel some and give. I gave it a good little burst with the throttle - mindful of how many boats were moored very close to our present precarious location - and we came off. Wayne ran back to take the tiller and set up what was to be his final attempt at this mooring ball. With the forces of wind, current, etc. it is an inobvious maneuver. I stationed myself right over the bow pulpit and extended our crazy jury-rigged boathook to it's entire length and stretched...The boat started to drift to starboard again but this time there was NO WAY IN HELL I was not catching that mooring ball and with a last mega-stretch I was able to just get the hook under the tip of the line and pull like mad. Wayne was already dejectedly thinking we had missed it when I said, "No way, I've got it!". He now ran to the front of the boat and grabbed the line from my hands to slip it over our forward cleat. Success! We celebrated by going below for ten minutes of doing nothing prior to making our first excursion back into the world of the sailing club. It sure is nice to be back here with so many familiar places. We are looking forward to resuming our morning runs and visiting local haunts. Claude's brother-in-law, Bill, is out racing from Fort Lauderdale to Key West at the present moment, and we don't expect to see him before the weekend. He should have some outstanding stories to tell, so stay tuned!

on to Miami!

We arrived at the Miami yacht club after a successful trip with many bridge openings and closings and a provisioning stop up the Collins canal at Publix. Who did we see? Tony and Diane! Life is good. More news tomorrow.

fun in Delray - and beyond

Our evening in Delray with Karen and Wayne was lots of fun! Delray’s downtown Atlantic Avenue is full of history and eateries. The town itself was founded by folks from Wisconsin, and named for a town near Detroit, MI. It became an important part of Flagler’s eastern-Florida rail system, after which serendipitously it became a tennis center. People moved to Delray largely because of it’s excellent tennis facilities, and the charming original downtown became a playground for the wealthy rather than an urban wasteland. Businesses along the Atlantic Ave. strip range from very upscale restaurants to quirky little places like the one I found – the “Mellow Mushroom”. Wayne and Karen were unfamiliar with this little 70’s throwback, so we started out there with the guys sampling some of the myriad types of beer they had on tap. After that, Wayne T. insisted we go to his favorite “Gator watching” bar. This, of course, is a bar dedicated to Florida Gator fans of the football variety. The Gators were playing in a bowl game, and the bar was in an appropriate frenzy (as was Wayne, a die-hard Gator fan himself). We were invited to join one of Wayne’s friends for a pitcher of Blue Moon, and then moved on toward an eventual dinner destination. On the way to dinner, we stopped at Elwood’s the only remaining truly funky bar on the strip. There we had the good fortune to catch the resident Elvis impersonator for a tune or two, after which I was challenged to get onstage and dance with Ellwood. I said, “of course” and did just so. Elwood, a fine old southern gentleman, was a good dancer. After displaying my chutzpah and dancing ability, we returned to the Mellow Mushroom for great pizza and more football. The Francis team tired early, and we were back on the boat by about 9pm. It was a great, rollicking, fun Florida evening with the most excellent of friends. The next morning we already had a date with our friend Vivian for brunch at her place, and enjoyed a lovely meal with Viv and her grandson Channing. Channing is 23, and getting himself together. He has enrolled in the local community college and is figuring it out. He is fortunate to be able to stay with his grandma during this transitional time, and he is a charming young man.

Returning to the boat, we spent another fabulous afternoon walking the beach of Delray, picking up shells and sea glass and lollygagging about in general. We were hoping to spend the weekend, but regrettably were kicked out by the local constabulary that night (told we could no longer stay tied up at their public wall) and decided to leave in the early am on Saturday. Life being stranger than fiction, we happened to run into a couple of cruisers from Canada on their way to the Bahamas on that same night in Delray. We chatted for awhile, and then got to talking about our first trip down last year. The mere mention of Claude’s name brought great chuckles and amazement, as they had been on this same trip with Claude and Kathy 10 years ago. Their names are Tony and Diane aboard the Vertigo 1. We had a fun chat, then ran into them again yesterday here at the Middle River anchorage in Fort Lauderdale. We think they went out the Lauderale inlet for a calm Bahamas crossing today, and expect to see them somewhere else along the trail.

That brings us to our adventure in provisioning yesterday. We asked for directions to the Super Market, but somehow went astray and walked on a bit farther than anticipated. In fact, this error could have been avoided perhaps by asking directions at a gas station but…A nice gal here at the anchorage told us we just had to walk North on Sunrise Blvd. about a mile to find a Publix. I mentioned to Wayne that I didn’t think that was possible, given that as we were traveling south on the ICW, we had to cross under the Sunrise Blvd. bridge (ergo, Sunrise Blvd. runs east-west). Wayne didn’t seem to think that too important, gauged the direction we were walking from the angle of the sun, and we turned north on what happened to be US-Highway 1 instead. After about a mile and a half we encountered a Winn-Dixie and called it good. After provisioning, we stopped at the East End Bar, apparently a notorious Steeler fan hangout. It was like stepping into a bar in New Brighton, PA. The characters and noise level were outrageous. I sat down next to a gal who at first I thought had a strange hat on. Not so. At closer inspection, she had an Ace bandage wrapped around her head, with bloody gauze pads exuding from it. She knocked back a couple of shots of Jaegermeister, and took off amid jeers from her peers who were calling her a drug addict. Sheesh. Next up was a blond version of Dracula complete with red-rimmed eyes, a ghostly pale countenance, thin lips which opened a crack now and then to speak, smoke, or sip on a gin and tonic, and a surprisingly intact head of pale hair. The guy, who was a nice enough guy, looked to be about 80. Later he and Wayne had a bit of a chat and it turns out the guy was only 62. That is probably the effect of many years of bar-room cigs and booze. The gent had a house in the Poconos and a condo in Lauderdale and was retired, happy, and pleasant enough. An assortment of other characters populated the bar, including various guys named Jimmy, Vito, Santino, and a lady bartender from the UK named Jackie. The patrons all knew each other and were having simultaneous loud discussions about football, hockey, assholes, and bad behavior in general. Most of them had sport-related T-shirts or polos and gold chains, and short dark hair. One of the lady patrons (who looked about 60 but then with this crowd, who knew?) was attired in a skin-tight leopard skin shirt with matching baseball cap – the cap being further adorned with sequins. She had several layers of carefully applied makeup on and a large medallion hung from the chain around her neck. The effect was part Alice Cooper, part Rocky Horror rated “G”. Everyone in the bar was smoking a cigarette at one time or another, and I felt a bit out of place. After our unanticipated long trek to the store, Wayne rightly thought this might be a good opportunity to have a little snack and we decided to stay for an extremely inexpensive basket of French Fries. Good decision, a huge basket of truly fresh fries, some with the skin still on, arrived soon afterward. They were delicious. When discussing the whole scene today with my son, he advised me that this was a good decision because, “they really know their fried foods in the Pittsburgh area”. We ate up the fries, and paid up. The walk back wasn’t so bad; we had consumed plenty of calories we consumed and the blazing sun had descended in the sky, resulting in a very pleasant late afternoon temperature. A lovely full-moon night on the boat followed. This morning we got up early and had a lovely beach-walk. We located a cute little funky old section of town we had visited many years ago, and made a plan to watch the Steelers game at a little beach bar. Again we have just been visited by the local boat police, telling us we are kicked out as there is a 24-hour anchoring rule. We assured the good officer we’d be leaving first thing in the morning, but he was not happy with that answer. Wayne said, OK and the guy left. The young man next to us – who has been here for a week – was much smarter. He hid as soon as he saw the police boat coming. We decided that we are sticking to the plan of leaving in the am and taking our chances – just as we did in Delray. Further analysis of this phenomenon revealed a stock plan for such situations: say your engine needs a part which you are picking up tomorrow morning and then you will be gone asap. With this plan firmly established in both ours minds, we are going back to the beach bar anyway to watch the Steeler game.

Delray days

We arrived in Delray without problem around 10:30 this morning, sited the park and the wall tie-up, and went on through one more bridge to pump out at the Municipal Marina. This operation lasted approximately 25 minutes (including a walk to a gas station for the ubiquitously necessary quarters), after which we turned right around and were able to catch the 11:00 bridge opening and glide right onto the wall. This is a very pleasant part of the ICW, as there is little to no current and little wind. That was not the case last night, when a big north wind blew up and brought us some rain. We made it back to the boat in time from our in-town excursion, and battened down the hatches just as we were being blown sideways! It's always a strange sensation when a big gust of wind moves the boat at it's whim across the water until the anchor catches. It's hard to describe, except that you just know you are moving as the world shifts. At any rate, the nice rainstorm washed down the boat and we look clean and presentable here in Delray. Tonight we assume we are going to see our friends Wayne Tepper and Karen Stene, and tomorrow we have a date with Vivian Glass for brunch - she lives right here in Delray! It is a beautiful, upscale town with a lovely city center and beautiful beach. The photo above is taken near the sea wall in the very same park. We are hoping they will let us stay a couple of days, but we'll see. If not, it's on to Lauderdale and the Middle River anchorage. The fun never stops! I should mention I am posting this entry at the coolest place, the "Mellow Mushroom" pizza parlor. It's a 70's themed pizza and hoagie place, with a great menu and a phenomenal selection of beers on tap. The prices are outstanding and the staff is terribly nice. The place gets an A+ in my ICW rating book. As a matter of fact, I am hoping these two images will load up so you can get a look at where I am! OK, no, they are taking too long, but I'll try again when I have a more powerful connection.