S/V AMICUS

Long Island II

March 24, 2007-Long Island

Our first fever-free day! By mid-morning Cedar realized that she could lift her head, and by lunchtime they were playing as normal. Not quite normal, actually, as there seems to be a sore throat/croupy cough element that develops afterwards. We just heard from "Grace" (see earlier blog entry), with whom we played all last week. Their kids have the exact same thing. But Cedar's swollen face is still a mystery.

It can't have been THAT bad, though; at her worst moments, when I was leaning anxiously down to catch every whispered word, she looked at me through narrow slits and croaked, "Mom, please don't wear that shirt." Alas, her mother's shabby attire is the bane of Cedar's existence. Every morning she begs to choose my shirts, and when I let her I do look more presentable, I admit. If only she'd let me do the same for her! She will wear a new shirt occasionally, to humor me, but by mid-morning she is back into the tried and true. Lamar has a range of shirts that she will wear, but all are stained. Unfortunately this is starting to get her down; she will put on a shirt, look down, and demand to change. Or she will spill something down her front and use that as an excuse. I don't mind, as long as she doesn't put all these shirts in the laundry. No, they go right back on her shelf for another go tomorrow.

Today I spent a few lone hours on Long Island, which has some beautiful topography. I climbed a road that went down towards the ocean and looked at the swells that result from over a week of strong winds. I figured these waves must come from northern Europe. Then I went to the grocery store and noticed once again what a diverse people the Bahamians are. I was there in the mid-afternoon, which must be some kind of gathering time related to school letting out. It was a real hub, and fun to watch. There is definitely a sense of community here, which makes sense if you count a 50-mile island as a small town. .

March 25

Well we may be over the hump but this game ain't over yet. Lamar was fevery again in the morning and coughed to make you cringe at night-hoarse and raspy. And Daddy had to admit he felt a dry throat. Mom broke down trying to eat breakfast with two clingy demanding girls hanging on her body and soul. The saving point of the day was the long naptime, basically lasting all afternoon. At last they are starting to catch up on sleep. In the evening we all watched a borrowed DVD, "Sense and Sensibility." Lamar fell asleep in front of the screen but Cedar made it all the way to the end. I cried lots-very cathartic-one of my favorite movies of all time.

March 26

Everyone but Mark was better. He reported that the sore throat warrants every bit of exhaustion and misery that the girls exhibited all week. The girls were by now climbing the walls, despite their coughs and hoarse voices, so we dragged Mark to the beach. Several cruisers were hanging out there; everyone is getting tired of waiting as no one has budged in a week. Cedar and Lamar ran out of steam fast, but at least they had some steam to run out of!

Seems like the old boat-stresses are coming back for the first time in months. It's the small inconveniences: like the fact that we all have to eat the exact same breakfast, or the fact that if someone's doing anything in the galley then no one else can move in or out, or the fact that our sunglasses are always smudgy unless we find a piece of cloth untouched by saltwater, which is basically impossible to do. Or just all the fresh food that was old before we even bought it, and quick to rot in the heat. All this is getting me down!

March 27, 2007

Poor Mark reports that his brain is too dull to talk or think. After a family meltdown trying to get into the dinghy, (3 of the four of us were crying-can you guess who was dry-eyed?) things started looking up. We climbed the hill to see to the ocean side-whoa, the foam makes everything white for a solid ½ mile offshore. We found a huge black-and-yellow spider wrapping up a bumble bee. We visited an amazing and cool multi-layered cave just minutes from the grocery store. It was the kind of place that would have been off limits in the US, but we were careful and it was great fun. We chatted with some other cruisers (whom we'd first seen in the Dismal Swamp) who told us about several not-to-miss sites on this island, and reminded us how easy it is to get rides anywhere. Emerging from our quarantine, and as a result of this conversation, we have a new perspective and have decided not to leave tomorrow, despite the fact that the winds are going to die down after 8 days. Here we are in the outer islands, as remote as we are going to get, and we want our memories here to be more than just of coughs and fevers! So we'll take a few days to see what there is to see, and Mark will get more time to emerge from the depths of the Head Cold.

March 28-day trip to Clarence Town

Today was a splendid day. On the dinghy ride to shore we followed a dolphin diving along in front of us, and that's just the way the day went. We hitchhiked into Clarence Town 20 miles away and plied our friendly driver with questions. He confirmed what we had suspected, that many people grow vegetables and keep chickens, goats, and lambs. There are always ways to buy fresh local food if you know where and when to go. He called these (outer) islands the "family islands," presumably because everyone is family. He said there is no crime here because everybody knows everybody. Another driver told me that they have the strongest work ethic and the cleanest island of all the Bahamas.

Once in town we watched a small freight ship, (known locally as a "mail boat") come in and unload goods for a dozen or so trucks and people waiting around. We're starting to understand the complex means by which goods are imported and exported weekly around the Bahamas. At this stage in our girls' life, "Education" means "Find real life happening, and observe." We also ran into a young Finnish sailor who is on a boat made of flattened out kegs! They sailed here from Europe and are headed back soon-only a year's trip. We took a brief look into their boat, which has 6 crew-three young blond Scandinavian couples. They are headed out this afternoon, despite the gigantic seas. Wow.

We ate a greasy delicious cheap lunch and followed it up with a rich locally famous dessert called "guava duff." Everyone was slow and relaxed and I love exposing the girls to a culture where we wait in line, or for food, for long time and no one is outraged or apologetic. We found the church on top of the hill where we'd heard you can climb the steeple, but no one was around. When we asked in town, they said "Just go on in!" So we did, and carefully climbed a series of narrow ladders (another area that would be off limits in the US) and had an incredible view of the harbor. The colors alone are breathtaking, and the wind and the waves and the spray make it all the more dramatic. It's also fun to think, beyond this is…Jamaica, Cuba, Puerto Rico, South America.

It took three rides to get home. You'd think, being a family of four, our hitchhiking options would be limited, but we were seat-belted the entire way. We arrived back on the boat tired but happy, took a swim and a shower, and finished off the day contemplating our future once again. Mark's head has cleared and we're back into our stride.

Long Island

March 19-23 Salt Pond, Long Island

The last five days we have been unexpectedly preoccupied. Cedar woke up Monday morning and hopped into our bed. I looked at her, shocked. "What happened to you?" Her face was red and puffy; her eyes were unrecognizable. We took her temperature-102. I thought guiltily of all the hints she had dropped the day before. "My throat hurts mommy. My eyes are burning. My nose is burning." And Mark and I had both noticed she was hot, and had assumed she was over-blanketed.

We put her back to bed where she chatted cheerfully through huge lips until whatever it was got the best of her and she lay limply. Her fever stayed above 100 all day and her face grew frighteningly. We could not figure out what it was, and felt helpless not even knowing the possibilities. We guessed wildly: spider bite? Sun poisoning? Some bacterial infection from swallowing too much salt water? I still suspect the latter, though we never did figure it out. There is a medical clinic on the island, but it was a rental car ride away, not to mention a long dinghy ride through strong winds and a long walk to a road. We stayed put and waited it out, hoping the swelling would go down in 24 hours, which it did.

In one respect we were very lucky; there was a good grocery store nearby. We got ice and juice and oranges-unheard of luxuries-and Cedar stayed hydrated. I remembered her 10-day ordeal with fever and dehydration last year at this time, and settled in for the long haul. She slept fitfully that night, miserable with her face and fever and also bothered by the flashlight I kept shining on her face and thermometer I kept sticking under her arm. In the middle of the night her fever broke and we slept. In the morning her fever was down and her face was down, and both improved throughout the day. By late afternoon however, Lamar was peeked and fevery. We anxiously watched her face but nothing happened. She simply lay, listless and glassy-eyed. We set them up on the settees and played music. The chart table was converted to a homeopathic counter. Outside, NE winds blew briskly and Mark caught just enough of Chris Parker to know that we may be pinned in here for over a week. So there was no urgency about the weather, anyway, other than a few squalls. We were tucked in close so there was absolutely no motion, which was another blessing.

Tuesday night was pretty sleepless as well, with Cedar being fussy and wanting the doting mother treatment, which I gave grudgingly now, the crisis being passed. By Wednesday morning Cedar was mostly better, and by afternoon her fever was gone. Lamar was about the same as before. Cedar and I went to shore in the afternoon to do some laundry at a cistern located up a path from the beach. Jen (the mom) on Spoony was having a birthday and we were all invited over for dinner and cake, an offer we had to refuse in the end, though Mark went for awhile and brought back a plate of fancy appetizers. We were in our own little world and birthday parties seemed a long way away.

Wednesday night we tried to return to regular nighttime routines, and Cedar protested mightily. So mightily that she had a full-on temper tantrum, turning the v-berth into chaos, while fevery Lamar lay beside me and listened silently. Cedar screamed and pleaded and disowned us and went almost until midnight-a painful experience for all of us, to put it mildly. And in the morning, she was hoarse, with a dry cough and a fever of 102. We were in for another round.

Lamar's fever slowly dropped on Thursday while Cedar's remained over 101. How I missed my bouncing little girls! This was our first real bout with illness since we embarked on this trip. Let's hope it's our last. On Thursday we all slept for real, finally. Lamar was basically well by Friday. Cedar's fever slowly dropped throughout the day and after suppertime she started laughing and grabbing Lamar's arm as she ran by. It is now Friday bedtime and Mark and I are almost giddy with hope that this ordeal may be over. We successfully completed nighttime routines without complaint and I have time to write the blog.

Amid all this, I noticed that while all stresses used to be associated with living on a boat, I found that to no longer be true for me. I was glad to be living close enough to the outside that even when stuck inside for days with sick children, I could (unlike in Chisholm!) always poke my head out or go for a quick ride and enjoy the beautiful surroundings and get my fill of fresh air. I was glad to be in a boat where there was a perpetual wind funneling through the cabin, and where the girls could lie down on the settee and feel like part of the action. I found time every afternoon to go for a walk along the beach and shake the worries and cobwebs out of my head. Mark survived by spending lots of time with the charts in between reading stories and doing dishes.

While we were so occupied, Spoony was getting out there and seeing Long Island, which included meeting a guy who is currently trying to break the world record for free diving. He dives down into these holes around here with only goggles and a wetsuit on, and gets-this is not exaggerating-280 feet down! The whole thing takes him 3 minutes or so. He already broke the world record, in Egypt, but it didn't count because he blacked out when he got back up. If we get better before moving out of here, I am hoping to go find this guy ourselves.

Red Shanks to Long Island

March 11-17 Red Shanks, Exuma

Once again we've been bogged down by strong NE winds, making all inlets difficult. But it doesn't matter too much because we're having a great time at Red Shanks. We have been here with "Grace" and their two kids Finn and Teague (2 and 4). Every day involves time on the beach and often playtime aboard a boat. The nearest beach has become "The 100-Acre Wood" and all four kids are totally into it. We have been getting to know the Megan and Brett, the parents, as well.

Our planning and discussing has become more intermittent, though we still have plenty to say to each other. For a week we tossed around the notion of going to Central America and holing the boat up the Rio Dulce for hurricane season. It was tempting but the more we learned about it the more we ran into similar problems. As usual it's complicated, but in the end we decided it was time to decide, and almost simultaneously determined that we would head north. Period. How nice to make a decision! We were tested almost immediately by meeting a family that was headed for the Rio Dulce!-but found afterwards that neither of us was inclined to waffle. Maybe we are slowly learning that burning bridges is actually an empowering act. One cannot move forward when there are many options.

Soon after we had one of the neatest days we've had in the Bahamas. We spent the morning at the Bahamian music/family festival in Georgetown. Unfortunately the music is all at night, but during the day the schoolchildren come and play and learn at the booths-native artifacts and crafts, wood carving, sponge collecting, etc. We just tagged along with a schoolgroup. The Teskey's, who were stuck about 10 miles north, planned to take a bus down and hang out with us for one last day before they would make time going north. But the buses were broken that day so they didn't show up. We overheard other cruisers talking about this, figured out what happened, and decided to hitchhike north to find them instead. It was so easy getting rides I wondered why bother to wait for a bus. The first vehicle we saw stopped, then dropped us off halfway. Then we had to wait at least 2 minutes, with several cars passing slowly by, waving and explaining why they couldn't pick us up. There is such a sense of collective responsibility here that if you don't give someone a ride, you better have a good reason! Our second ride was in an old truck full of boxes of bottled water. The driver was gregarious and friendly and in 10 minutes we received a well-timed dose on his philosophy on life. "These islands are what you make of them!" he gestured emphatically. Him, he was tired of the violence, crowds, and rush of Nassau. He and his wife moved here to slow down, get a job, feed the kids, and live more simply. He started selling bottled water and juice to any person or store. The govt. "takes their cut," but that's okay. For him, he's getting what he wants here, and that's what he loves about the islands. By the time we reached the marina we were believers: the islands would be what we made of them.

Our new faith was tested about five minutes after he left when we realized that our backpack was in the back of his truck, with our radio, digital camera, all our raingear… There was absolutely nothing to be done. He was new to the area, worked for himself, and we didn't even know his name. And he didn't know ours. But he had so instantly struck me as good to the core, that I held out hope that he would go out of his way, again, to come find us and return it. Which he did, a few hours later as we were leaving the Teskey's. Talk about a way to completely restore faith in the Bahamas! I feel sheepish about any complaints I have ever made about the Bahamas. When we've found a way to talk to people they have been admirable characters, not to mention incredibly friendly. And well traveled! The Jamaican guy on the drive home had lived all over the islands, not to mention Alabama and Egypt. I am determined not to forget again that if we want to go anywhere inland, or just feel like meeting people, the thing to do is get a ride somewhere. What a loss to the US, that getting/giving rides is no longer acceptable or even legal behavior.

For the girls this was proof yet again that the world is our oyster. Mark and I were commenting on how we couldn't do this in the US, and Cedar asked "Why not?" I tried to explain that it's considered dangerous, that people might not be as friendly. I thought she might consider the absolutes here, ("Is this dangerous then?") but she just resolved it with, "Well, we're not in the US, so it's fine," and was soon asleep on Lammie's shoulder.

And then, we got to visit the beloved Teskey's one more time before they headed north. (We may run into them again but there are no guarantees.) Their delight when we showed up at their cockpit knew no bounds; that alone was worth the trip! Cedar, Conner and Lamar instantly began their regular romping. All too soon, it was time to hitchhike back. It was a long and wet dinghy ride back to Red Shanks. We put on raincoats, sat on the dinghy floor, and faced backwards. But once we're back, it's quiet and beautiful and I'm always glad to have left all the chaos of Georgetown.

The kids are just so great these days. It's hard to believe that at first we wondered how we would do altogether like this. Now that we are turning around (which is NOT to say we are ending our trip, but it feels different emotionally) I am acutely appreciative of our time together and can hardly bear to think of it ending. What a treat to watch every minute of our childrens' growth! They are better at helping each other out of funks than we are. They certainly have times when they want a snuggle with a parent, but if Lamar wakes from her nap and we are busy sailing, Cedar can do the waking honors almost as well. And Lamar knows that if Cedar is fussing on the beach, a gift of a shell is just the ticket.

Cedar's language makes her appear much older than she is sometimes. She drops little phrases: when she joined in our play today she commented, "I like to join the crowd." She joyfully copies her dad's phrases often: "When it comes to ___, ___ really knows his onions!" She is also coming up with some shockingly complicated but yet straightforward ways of rebelling. We occasionally get caught in arguments around time out--we say she has to calm down FIRST. And I quote: "But I have to come out IN ORDER TO calm down!!!!!" On the long wet dinghy ride from town, we played "favorites." I was reminded how much control we still have...Cedar's favorite breakfast? "My favorite healthy breakfast is farina or grits (pointedly omitting oats) and my favorite unhealthy breakfast is pancakes and french toast." Lamar can not only pick a favorite song, she can quote the first line for me so that we can sing it together. On the flip side, she had an all-out tantrum in the middle of the night--a solid 45 minutes of howling and screaming at us. Our mild little Lammie! I was surprised, almost impressed.

March 18, 2007-Salt Pond, Long Island

This morning we shook off lethargy, insecurity, and the ready company in Red Shanks, and took off for Long Island, 30 or so miles away. Spoony came along too. We were a bit nervous because the wind was going to clock to windward at some point during the day, and we wouldn't have a lot of room to tack. But it turned out just fine and was indeed a "sparkling sail," to quote the guidebook author, though in the first few hours we rolled with the ocean swell. After several weeks of staying put in a calm anchorage, our bodies weren't adjusted. Lamar, who for the first time had spat out her (incredibly bitter-I can't believe she usually takes them!) seasick pill, threw up twice, once while we were on the radio with Spoony. "We wondered why you took so long to reply," they commented afterwards. Cedar fussed and whined and then fell into a deep sleep, and woke up just fine in the late morning. Lamar slept also after her barfs, and so we had the morning to enjoy the sail and get the absolute best angle we could so that we could keep sailing when the wind clocked. By midday we were back on the Bahama Bank with shallow waters and shoals all around, minimizing the waves. The water was…cobalt blue? Is that deep blue/purple? And then BRIGHT turquoise. It was the kind of day where I think, "I'll never get enough of this in a whole lifetime, it's just so darn cool." It's hard not to start longing for ocean passages at such a time, but we are sticking to our plan of going north, and glad of it. Several people we've met recently have cruised Nova Scotia and so that dangles in front of us, another ambitious possibility for late summer. Mark's commented to me, "We better be careful what we wish for, because we're the types to get it!"

Georgetown II

March 1-10 Georgetown

I did get my birthday dinner out. For some strange reason, there are very few eating options in Georgetown beyond the conch shacks that close at dinnertime anyway. There's the hotel, which is overpriced and touristy. We checked out two more places; one turned out to be a bar without tables, and the other had folded. So we ended up at the hotel and ate delicious but stingily proportioned fish. I don't mean to sound ungrateful but I guess I was.

Other than that, it has been an uneventful week, viewed from the outside. In fact other than watching the solar eclipse rise over dinner, about the only noteworthy event was Kid's Regatta Day. There were probably 50 kids there of all ages. There was a pirate who kindly toned down his brawling when Cedar, Lamar, and a few others were too scared to go near him-though they never did consent to getting their arm "slashed" with a sword. (Eventually he showed them the red marker and said "Do you want a mark on your hand?") They searched for coins under the sand (Cedar-as usual way behind in hoarding the goods--ended up with none)-and then there were lots of crafts and games. Then a miniature sailboat race (all boats made by the kids)-VERY fun and funny. There are many years behind this particular tradition, apparently; a couple of older teenage boys who'd won for years weren't allowed to enter their boats, so they orchestrated the event instead. Around noon a huge catamaran arrived with all the Bahamian kids, and in the afternoon the older kids had relay races. By then we were totally pooped and rode with the Teskey's back across the harbor; luckily we were able to get a ride because the waves were 3-4 feet even in the harbor.

Since that day, Mark and I have been on a virtual "retreat"--hours upon hours of talking, figuring, planning. Coming into Georgetown forces us, like everybody, to look our situation straight in the eye. Our plan of taking the Windward Passage to Columbia would commit us to a year in 3rd world, non-English-speaking countries. Neither of us speaks a lick of Spanish. As well, Mark is facing his own concerns about the passages down there. Close examination of the year shows that, though the initial passage down there is pretty straightforward, the two passages it takes to return are not. And there are many other things we'd have to figure out down there. Yellow fever vaccinations? Malaria pills? A place to stay while we haul the boat? Not to mention hauling the boat to sandblast and repaint it. And that would just be the beginning.

You may wonder, "Why haven't they prepared better?" A valid question, but the truth is, cruisers do go there, and rave about it, and manage to get around, and I'm sure we could figure it out, if we had to.

Our feelings after sailing the Bahamas are difficult to describe. On the one hand it has been a pleasant and enjoyable way to spend a winter. And after all we went through on the east coast, a marvelous break from some big headaches. On the other hand, we are both underwhelmed with certain aspects of the "cruising life." We haven't been able to immerse ourselves in any meaningful way with Bahamian people; the Great Race Divide is even stronger here than in the US, since we are clearly not only white and rich but also foreigners. We have pondered long and hard on how to integrate ourselves with the people we are cruising past. We do not aspire to a perpetual vacation; we are eager to learn and also to contribute. As Mark puts it, "There are only so many beaches to visit until it's just another beach." So we not only struggle with the "could we do it?" aspect, but also, the "how can we do it meaningfully?" aspect. We have no clear answers to either of these questions.

So here we are in Georgetown, where you must either head south into big waters, or return north of the hurricane belt, in a few months. If we are not ready to go south, we must go north. So it seems that we will soon be returning to the US, the thing we've tried so hard not to do!

Shocking and disappointing as this seemed at first, it has released in us a mountainous barrage of insights, feelings, and thoughts. We are learning things about ourselves we never knew. After the initial few days/hours when our emotions swung wildly--crushing disappointment, despair, relief--we are beginning to get used to the idea. It is only part of an idea, really, because we haven't yet filled in the gap of what to do after returning to the US. There are too many possibilities to mention here and besides, if there's one thing we've learned, it's not to plan too far in advance!

It took us a couple of days to realize that turning around, and doing what every other family we know is doing, does not mean we are failures as cruisers! If we'd only known what we know now, we would have planned our first year not as the end-all but the beginning of adventures, "a year in the Bahamas." You just never know, until you try, what's going to happen.

When I was feeling the deepest failure, I remembered all we've accomplished so far, and marveled at this fact: Goals reached, shrink. Why is that? The triumph we felt when we sailed away with four aboard for the first time. Reaching New York-what a milestone! We sailed the Great Lakes! And of course, crossing the Gulf Stream into the Bahamas. So how is it that here we are, at the "end" of the Bahamas, feeling like we haven't done a darn thing yet? Thankfully this emptiness didn't last longer than a day or two. It has taken some reframing in our minds, but we are back on the up and up.

One of our funnier tangents was when we talked about what kind of sailing we REALLY like (that we know of so far). We found we both really like manageably challenging sailing in pristine waters with beautiful coastline. We realized simultaneously that we had just described Lake Superior! Mark has often mentioned that he has yet to see anything that beats it. So maybe part of this is realizing that there's no place like home. Yet, Mark loves to dream big, and make his dreams come true. And I've always been the type to be game for whatever. At this moment, I can't fault us for that.

What's best for the girls? It has nothing to do with Where we are or What we are doing, and everything to do with How we are doing. If we are doing well, they are as well. Cedar has avidly listened to much of our conversation. It's difficult for me to try to explain things to her when I'm not feeling very happy about it, but then once she really gets it, she's completely on board-and has already proven a good spokesperson for the family, when others are asking us about our plans. As usual, she immediately takes on our concerns and excitement as her own. She is just as excited about returning to the fresh water of the Great Lakes ("no more salty throat!") as she was about landing in South America.

So we are not making the mistake of looking too far ahead. Our current plan is to merely sit with indecision for a few more days, get out of Georgetown (which has an uncanny way of sucking people in) and do some sailing, and see what happens.

Sometimes, I must confess, I wish we didn't even have a blog. What crazy idea was this, to write everything down, let alone for people to READ? What vulnerability! I know we don't owe you (the readership) anything. Still it's hard to know how to explain ourselves sometimes. But after I do, I always feel better about it. So really I'd like to say to all of you still reading-thanks for listening.

March 10-Red Shanks

News Flash-Cedar has learned to snorkel! She still forgets to stop smiling and close her mouth occasionally and spits up saltwater. But she's getting it. This is a huge milestone for her; she's watched others do it for so long.

1st Week in Georgetown

Feb 23-27 Georgetown, Exumas

First, I would like to revise something I said in the last entry that may have offended readers. I kind of offended myself when I read it. It's not that Bahamian's do "nothing." It's just that it's hard to find an over-arching theme in the economy or in what is being accomplished or provided. And there's also the island mentality, which people come here for. Take it easy, mon!

Our first week in Georgetown has been relatively uneventful. We don't particularly love Georgetown yet we are already sliding into the masses. We've been here almost a week and haven't even broached the subject of leaving! We did move our boat a couple of times to different spots, as the winds have clocked a couple of times. Elizabeth Harbor is huge and there is plenty of chop if you are in the wrong place. Getting to town from the farther reaches, or getting to the beaches if you are near town, is quite a dinghy ride. We usually get wet and it takes a solid 20 minutes to get there. Our outboard motor has never had more use.

The first few days were spent getting oriented, getting groceries, and getting hot. We are officially in the tropics now. It has been really hot during the day about half the time, when the wind is slight. The "Volleyball Beach," where all the action occurs, has rope swings, volleyball nets, the "Chat n Chill," tables and chairs, and beautiful sand. However, with all those hundreds of boats in such close proximity, all hoarding their spots (and maybe not going out into the ocean to empty their tanks) we can't feel that great about swimming there, clear as the water is. That plus the bar/resort scene makes us infrequent visitors. Instead we learn what's going on through the Cruiser's Net which broadcasts on the VHF radio every morning for nearly an hour, with everything from weather to lost-and-found to "thanks for helping us when our anchor rode broke." This is the Family Regatta week with big events every day which we have completely skipped other than the Kids Day which is March 2nd. We did, however, find a short path leading from the harbor that goes to the east side of the island-the ocean. It's gorgeous, pristine, and empty, with lots of shallow water for kids and deeper snorkeling coral heads. Almost every day we take the long dinghy ride and short walk with the Teskey's or other families we have met there.

Chris Parker, the Caribbean weather guru, was in town for a seminar on Monday and Mark got to the door early enough to get a seat. Judging from the crowd, you'd think Chris Parker was a big star. Well he is, in the boaters' world. He turns out to be a very friendly, very courteous, very young guy. The girls and I played in the park with two other daddies and their children while the other parents went to hear Chris. Mark reports that the answer to the one question he asked made the whole day worth it for him.

We also spent a lot of energy trying to figure out the best-or only-way to get an internet connection. We don't have a wireless antennae and so we don't ever seem to get a good connection from our boat. We've learned to be pessimistic when people tell us how easy and convenient the internet is, anywhere. We finally decided to risk the disappointment and followed hear-say directions up a hot and stinky hill to a yellow shack. We were barked at and sniffed at by dogs and finally banged on the door and roused a Rastafarian-looking guy. We paid $15 and were given a user name and password. This did not work for us either on the boat or onshore, but Mark went back and got another user name, and then it worked on shore-barely. Meanwhile I was going downhill fast into a deep funk about how difficult it is to be so out of touch with my family and friends. At Mark's urgings I took the computer and wandered around looking for a place to connect strongly enough to use the yahoo phone thing. The connection worked out on this dock which was just a few hundred feet from the antennae over the yellow shack, but there was no plug-in there (even though Mark asked the marina guy if we could pay for dock electricity just to plug in our computer-then, it turned out, it was the wrong amp outlet). One afternoon I went to another computer place and used a satellite phone-a sketchy connection, but I did chat with a sister for a few minutes. Finally, I ended up in "Scallop," a sailboat owned by a Sybil, woman we met in Marsh Harbor. She was docked at the marina. Using her plug-in, and trying to aim the computer around the cruising ship blocking the antennae over the yellow shack, I miraculously got through enough to talk for over an hour! But the next day when I tried again for a scheduled call with my sister, we had no luck. Which all goes to show that we live in a very strange time: tantalizing, fantastic possibilities hover (call for free! Anywhere in the world!) but it's never as easy as it's supposed to be. Worse, the rules don't work, or they change, or there are no rules at all. Several times I had "perfect" coverage and still couldn't hear a thing on the earphone. We waste enough energy with it all to give up on the whole thing-after all, people knew how to be happy before internet-only to have something suddenly work, and it's so fantastic that it holds me on a string, hoping for more, for another month, until I'm too frustrated to try any more once again.

I waited in line for the satellite phone in a green pastel shack. As I watched the row of sweaty tan cruisers stare at their computers, and the Bahamian kids race around snatching cans of Vienna sausage from the sagging shelves while their mother (also the storekeeper) chased them around and threatened with a stick, and dogs came and went, and old men came in holding babies to be coddled, and the mother had to be tracked down and persuaded to offer any services or sell any food, and then if you didn't have the right change you were out of luck, all in the sweaty heat of the day-as I sat there and this all seemed very normal I realized that we HAVE come a long way from Florida.

Feb. 28

This day deserves it's own section because it was my birthday! It actually started the day before when Mark sent me off in the dinghy with the computer and instructions to take my time, and I made all those successful aforementioned phone calls. Also, perhaps even more important, fresh foods had just arrived at the grocery store. It was expensive, but it was truly fresh, and with my birthday just hours away I threw caution to the winds and realized that planning three delicious meals for the day was the best birthday present I could possibly imagine. Vegetables, grapefruit for breakfast and mango for snack…of course the girls partook happily in the birthday treats all day. We planned to buy ice and drink iced water all the next day (this made both Cedar and I giddy with excitement), but never followed through on that one.

I pushed my wireless luck by hustling over to Sybil's boat early in the morning for a scheduled phone call with my sister. I dealt with a wrong cord, the outboard running out of gas, and then no connection, with the optimism and grace that I can only sustain on my birthday, and tried again just feet from the antennae at the yellow shack. No luck.

Still it was a great day. We spent lots of time on the ocean beach with the Teskey's, then returned to the boat so I could receive my birthday present--a shell that Cedar had been waiting to give me ("Aren't you excited about the shell I'm going to give you, mom?"). I'd proclaimed over it when she found it; it really is beautiful and now hangs from my neck. We then rested up for the Night Out for me and Mark, kindness of Julie and Kerry of course. Cedar and Lamar were pumped up for supper on Satisfaction WITHOUT parents, and Mark and I got all "dressed up" (a relative term) and we were just stepping into the cockpit when the wind started to blow, which it hadn't for days. In fact we'd hardly thought about the weather. But a front was indeed passing over, with stronger winds than the mild ones we'd heard were coming (this is what happens when Chris Parker is off the air). It was short-lived, but windy and choppy for 1 ½ hours, just long enough that the "leisurely" possibility went out of our dinner plans and the girls-already tired from a long day--got cranky with restlessness and then disappointment. It was not to be. At dark it was still hard to imagine dinghying to shore, but the Teskey's heroically invited us all over instead so we braved the 100 feet to their boat and ate pizza and cake. It was a great salvage evening, though all the kids lost it at one point or another. The best part of it was, I woke in the morning and realized that even though we hadn't eaten out, the days and weeks of anticipation made me feel like we had. And here I get to do it for real, again tonight! It's almost like going out twice.

The other event of my birthday is that who should stop by in their dinghy but Tom and Char Cooper, next-door neighbors from my childhood home in Bryn Athyn! We knew they lived on a boat but had no idea they were in Georgetown. We are going to cross the harbor and visit them when we get the chance. Small world!

March 1, 2007

In the morning Mark went over to Sybil's boat and climbed the mast for her. He really likes climbing masts, and most people are terrified of it, or at least unable to confidently handle tools and repairs while swaying in the wind, so he has climbed quite a few masts. Meanwhile I spent a gloriously efficient morning on the boat with the girls, reclaiming the chaos in the v-berth and starting a new round of laundry. Sybil then invited us to a conch shack for lunch! We had fritters, scorched conch salad, and grilled conch. Yum. Now I know what the fuss is about. Tonight, it's out to eat (again!) for the delayed birthday dinner, and tomorrow morning is Kids Day on Volleyball beach. When will the festivities end?