How does one know when to move on? By no means do we have an exhaustive view of the Dominican Republic, but we do have a feel for Luperon. I am struck that the people I met and made friends with are cruisers. I am still committed to meeting locals and learning their ways – guess I need to get going with the Spanish!
We have an itiniery that takes us by hops up the Bahama Islands getting to Georgetown, Bahamas before December 24th when my kids arrive for Christmas. I am very exited! We knew that this first jaunt would be an overnight trip; arriving in Great Inagua on the second day. We have had enough departures to date for me to have made some observations about our styles. Dan gets up, gets set and is ready to GO! Me, on the other hand, make tracks, but I prefer to have a cup of tea, eat a little breakfast, and check email one more time… Our dinghy had been used right up until late the night before so we had to secure the engine, deflate “Child” (Gypsy’s “Child “ - our dinghy) and stow her safely on deck. In a mere 2 weeks a frosting of barnacles had formed on the dinghy bottom that required scouring with vinegar to remove. We made quick work of our chores and we cast off our mooring at 8:30 AM. The route out of the harbor brought back memories of our daily treks in our dinghy: to swim, or snorkel or to explore the nearby beach where we did yoga.
Once out in the Atlantic we seemed to stir up the flying fish. Schools (or flocks, I’m not sure which to call them!) of fish, with military precision came out of the water and flew in formation for long distances, curving with the waves. They do seem to have a bit of a problem with reentry as they usually just plop back into the water when a wave catches them.
What could be bad about azure blue water? Well, you would think nothing but let me tell you, I didn’t lay down the anchor with the precision required by my captain and he dove into the clear water and inspected my work; I received some instruction. Yikes! I’m happy to report that I am trainable and seem to be meeting his standards.
Sailing in the dark of night, I have to admit, does somewhat unnerve me. If we sail into the darkness from daylight I seem to be a bit better prepared, but as much as that, I suppose, it also depends on the wind and the seas. We set the alarm for 11 PM and we left Great Inagua at midnight - it was very dark. I was pretending to be Jack Aubrey from Master and Commander planning some secret ambush. We weighed anchor and sailed off without the aide of the engine, very cool. With the wind on our beam we moved along at 7 – 8 knots in the 15 – 25 knot breeze. It was the seas that were loud and steep and trying desperately to pull us off course. Fears that this situation would escalate were haunting me and the dramatic shooting stars (I saw 2 with a green flash) did not completely divert my attention. Once our course was set and sails were trimmed I agreed to take first watch. We had one reef in the main and had rolled the Genoa slightly. Because of the intensity of the movement, it was one of those times that you had to hold on to something fixed on Gypsy all the time. Creeping back to the chart plotter to check for other ships required a physical workout. As I was sitting on the starboard cockpit seat, monitoring the gauges what seemed like a dump truck load of seawater showered over me! The cockpit filled with water and once I was sure the water was draining out the scuppers I realized we probably weren’t going to sink. Dan was prompt on the scene because the cabin where he was sleeping had open ports and water made its way to him as well. Dan told me the next day that I had looked like a drowned cat – attractive, huh? The fact remains, we were never in danger. My imagination keeps my life exciting.
I never billed myself as a great swimmer. As a matter of fact, I think I said something like - “I’m no fish in the water.” I’m athletic enough to be strong but it’s the breathing I have difficulty with. Snorkeling does not come easily for me and Dan has been a patient teacher. Practicing relaxation has made it possible for me to swim distances I would not have undertaken in the past. Progress is being made. After we had swum to a beach and started beachcombing I asked Dan what he had seen (as he snorkeled all the way to land): not too many little fish, a nurse shark and a barracuda! Better that I hadn’t seen them!
Our beachcombing walks have exposed us to coral formations and snails and crabs…
and tons of trash! It makes my heart ache to see what washes ashore - lots of plastic, and, where do you suppose your outdated computer ended up?
We have an itiniery that takes us by hops up the Bahama Islands getting to Georgetown, Bahamas before December 24th when my kids arrive for Christmas. I am very exited! We knew that this first jaunt would be an overnight trip; arriving in Great Inagua on the second day. We have had enough departures to date for me to have made some observations about our styles. Dan gets up, gets set and is ready to GO! Me, on the other hand, make tracks, but I prefer to have a cup of tea, eat a little breakfast, and check email one more time… Our dinghy had been used right up until late the night before so we had to secure the engine, deflate “Child” (Gypsy’s “Child “ - our dinghy) and stow her safely on deck. In a mere 2 weeks a frosting of barnacles had formed on the dinghy bottom that required scouring with vinegar to remove. We made quick work of our chores and we cast off our mooring at 8:30 AM. The route out of the harbor brought back memories of our daily treks in our dinghy: to swim, or snorkel or to explore the nearby beach where we did yoga.
Once out in the Atlantic we seemed to stir up the flying fish. Schools (or flocks, I’m not sure which to call them!) of fish, with military precision came out of the water and flew in formation for long distances, curving with the waves. They do seem to have a bit of a problem with reentry as they usually just plop back into the water when a wave catches them.
What could be bad about azure blue water? Well, you would think nothing but let me tell you, I didn’t lay down the anchor with the precision required by my captain and he dove into the clear water and inspected my work; I received some instruction. Yikes! I’m happy to report that I am trainable and seem to be meeting his standards.
Sailing in the dark of night, I have to admit, does somewhat unnerve me. If we sail into the darkness from daylight I seem to be a bit better prepared, but as much as that, I suppose, it also depends on the wind and the seas. We set the alarm for 11 PM and we left Great Inagua at midnight - it was very dark. I was pretending to be Jack Aubrey from Master and Commander planning some secret ambush. We weighed anchor and sailed off without the aide of the engine, very cool. With the wind on our beam we moved along at 7 – 8 knots in the 15 – 25 knot breeze. It was the seas that were loud and steep and trying desperately to pull us off course. Fears that this situation would escalate were haunting me and the dramatic shooting stars (I saw 2 with a green flash) did not completely divert my attention. Once our course was set and sails were trimmed I agreed to take first watch. We had one reef in the main and had rolled the Genoa slightly. Because of the intensity of the movement, it was one of those times that you had to hold on to something fixed on Gypsy all the time. Creeping back to the chart plotter to check for other ships required a physical workout. As I was sitting on the starboard cockpit seat, monitoring the gauges what seemed like a dump truck load of seawater showered over me! The cockpit filled with water and once I was sure the water was draining out the scuppers I realized we probably weren’t going to sink. Dan was prompt on the scene because the cabin where he was sleeping had open ports and water made its way to him as well. Dan told me the next day that I had looked like a drowned cat – attractive, huh? The fact remains, we were never in danger. My imagination keeps my life exciting.
I never billed myself as a great swimmer. As a matter of fact, I think I said something like - “I’m no fish in the water.” I’m athletic enough to be strong but it’s the breathing I have difficulty with. Snorkeling does not come easily for me and Dan has been a patient teacher. Practicing relaxation has made it possible for me to swim distances I would not have undertaken in the past. Progress is being made. After we had swum to a beach and started beachcombing I asked Dan what he had seen (as he snorkeled all the way to land): not too many little fish, a nurse shark and a barracuda! Better that I hadn’t seen them!
Our beachcombing walks have exposed us to coral formations and snails and crabs…
and tons of trash! It makes my heart ache to see what washes ashore - lots of plastic, and, where do you suppose your outdated computer ended up?
At Long Island, Bahamas, we miraculously made our way into a secluded harbor for the night. I say miraculously because I had been reading out loud and when I looked up it appeared there was no harbor and I asked Dan if we were planning to anchor along the shore. He expertly maneuvered us through an opening with rock protrusions on both sides. The seas were tossing us forward and we surfed into a tranquil, beautiful little harbor. The two wrecked boats – one on the rocks and the other in shallow water were not good advertisements. We arrived early enough that we had time to swim and explore so we decided to depart at daybreak the next morning. Throughout the night we could hear the robust surf coming through the entrance and we felt the seas with a fair amount of rolling of our boat. When our alarm went off and I looked out at the waves tossing high in the air across the entrance I was relieved when Dan said we should wait another 45 minutes for daylight. It happened again – my imagination. I wondered if we would make it out safely. We would need to go directly into the wind to exit and what if our engine could not propel us against the wind and the seas? What if the forceful waves tossed us up on the rocks like the other specimen? Daylight brought some perspective and with the precision of our entrance, we left.A barracuda lurking under our boat in two different harbors caused some slight alterations to our swim schedule as well as to interrupt Dan’s plan to scrape barnacles off our propeller. It is one thing to have a large fish with teeth that are visible, circle you, and seem to be curious but when it lines up and looks you in the face it’s time to get out of the water. There was a school of smaller fish with vivid blue backs and shimmering, silvery bellies that accompanied “Lucy” (as in: “Lucy, we’re home!”). Each time we went off in our dinghy we would wonder if “Lucy” would still be there when we returned. Not wanting to see the negativity in a pet barracuda we tried to find the beauty in our self appointed addition. Perhaps Lucy was guarding our vessel or wanted some interesting company. The fact that she did not munch on the smaller fish that were along with her made us think she was not hungry – or maybe she was just waiting for “long-pork”.
These tales are fragments of my life over the past several days - happenings that I may have shared over tea. Would you like chai or English Breakfast?
