Celebrating our lives - susan

With the binoculars I watched the small dinghy bob across the harbor until they turned round the point into the cove by the dinghy dock – where I could see them no more. Tears filled my eyes as with this loss of sight I realized that Chelsea and David’s visit has come to an end. We had a wonderful time: relaxing and talking and playing over these past days. It was a time for us to be a family. Our lives have taken us out of proximity of each other and our interests are varied. We are not part of each other’s lives on a daily basis, yet, coming together allows us to cultivate our commonness.



We swam and snorkeled and played volleyball. We spent time with a sumptuous stingray that came right up to the beach. We danced in the streets on Christmas night as the local folks paraded with colorful costumes and lively rhythms – celebrating Junkanoo. We did yoga on the beach.
One night Dan suggested we play with his poi and we went to shore and illuminated the night with circles of fire! Yesterday we went for a great sail and later in the day Chelsea and David took the dinghy to the beach. When they did not come home by dark I began to fuss. Are they lost, did they go body surfing and get caught in a current? Once they were safely on Gypsy we laughed about the fact that some things never change! The final drama of the evening was when David noticed that our dinghy was not tied to Gypsy and, in fact, there was a dinghy floating down the harbor with no one aboard. Although in the moonlight it was not clear if it was “Gypsy’s Child”, it seemed obvious. David dove into the water and sprinted to catch the errant dinghy. When “Gypsy’s Child” was once again secured we reflected as to what would have happened if we had waked in the morning to catch the taxi at 7:30 AM with no mode of transportation to the land! Those are the memories that color our scrapbook.
Making changes in our lives takes a certain amount of courage, and faith. We have to believe that we have the glue in our relationships to grow the newness. Assessing the response of my kids and of Dan and myself to our time together gives validity to the individual lives we are all leading.

It finally hit me - dan

I’m not a big Christmas person ordinarily and down here in the islands, I’ve felt even more removed from the season than usual. In spite of that I was eventually deeply touched by the Christmas sprit this year. It happened on Christmas Eve. Susan’s children (Chelsea & David) had flown in that afternoon and we had just finished a delicious meal of Mahi-Mahi & ribs on the beach when the most beautiful music wafted over us. It was Israel Kamakawiwo’ole’s enchanting cover of Over the Rainbow/Wonderful Life that drew us like humming birds to nectar.

Cruisers had gathered for an evening of music on the beach. A collection of about one hundred had gathered under the stars, soft pines and warm glow of amber Christmas lights for an evening of Christmas music.

While the first group of musicians were setting up I got into a conversation with the cruiser next to me. I asked him how he came to this place. He prefaced his answer with; “it’s a long, boring story” which it turned out to be neither. His was a story about a dream, a search for the right boat and the numerous trials and tribulations between then & here. I could completely empathize with him, lord knows, it hadn’t been an easy process for me either. The initial setting out being the hardest part of all. It turns out it's not long passages, storms at sea or equipment failures that are generally found to be the hardest part of cruising. It’s the long, tough, journey that one must complete before you get to cast off those dock lines and head out. But we’ve made it!

Somehow everyone on that beach on that charmed night had overcome innumerable personal obstacles to get there. I don’t think that anyone but another cruiser could ever imagine what it takes to get here. It takes courage and a strong belief in oneself because there are bound to be setbacks and even failures. Perseverance makes all the difference.

The singing soon started and that’s when it struck me; I was with a large group of deeply kindred spirits and we had all been drawn to the special little patch of sand to enjoy community, express our gratitude, our sense of wonder and to thank the universe for the bounty that we’ve all received. That’s the moment that the Christmas spirit really hit me this year.

Merry Christmas to All – susan & dan

Christmas is a time for giving and it’s also a natural time of year to stop and give thanks for the good fortune we have in our lives. Even though we are far away from friends and family, please know that our hearts go to you and accept our best wishes for a wonderful holiday season.

We have much to be grateful for; each other, family, good friends and the natural splendor that surrounds us.

As we sailed toward Georgetown I felt the rejuvenation of my soul. We had been out of contact with the outside world for over 8 days… the natural beauty of this country slows my hyper mind to an appreciating calm…

The sun, warm and casting illumination on the world around us - the ocean lapping against the hull - our mode of transportation, our home… the breeze is gentle but clearly powerful…

While we were underway we ate a simple breakfast of potatoes and eggs enhanced with a tomato and some onion slices. The familiar tastes seemed enhanced. We stopped chewing with each mouthful – appreciated the simple flavors. This deliberate action caused us to give thanks: for the efforts of the farmers in Luperon and for the cargo ships that bring staples to the peoples of the islands, and for the simple stove that allows us to cook…

Could any site be more beautiful? There has been so much beauty. I realize as I etch these experiences into my heart that I am consciously making an effort to recall these sites when I may not be in such “perfect” surroundings. Let this be the core of my centered self.

This is the stuff of life; this is what we are grateful for.

namaste...

odds and ends - susan

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?

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?

Off the beaten path in the Southern Bahamas – dan

We worked our way north from the southernmost island in Bahamas, Great Inagua and it was one beautiful island after another from there until Georgetown. The islands got more beautiful as we traveled along, with each new island grander and more dazzling then the last.

After the desolate beauty of Great Inagua we next came to Acklins Island were we anchored just off a stunning beach that stretched on for what seemed like forever. I tried out my digital underwater camera and was pleased with its ease of use and the preliminary results.

I did a little bit of snorkeling and then worked on cleaning the Luperon barnacles off of Gypsy until a 3’ barracuda became much too interested me. A little later we swam ashore and walked that beach for miles. The beach has a long, setback ridge of incredibly old coral heads and ancient conch shells washed up from countless storms. The next day I tried to get back to work on the barnacles but old mister barracuda wouldn’t stand it. Discretion being the better part of valor I retreated to the deck willing to save the task for another day and better company. No other boat came in sight until the afternoon of our second day there when a luxurious motor yacht towing a large fishing boat anchored near by. There went the neighborhood.

We left Acklins in the predawn hours to assure us an afternoon landing at our next island, Long Island. I was hoping that conditions would allow us to enter the small and secure harbor apply called Little Harbor and wanted the best light available for our entrance through the reefs if it did. When we got there conditions seemed right and we surfed into the harbor on the backs of near breaking waves that did break on the reefs to the left and right of us as we made our entrance. There was the wreck of a sailboat high upon the rocks at the harbor entrance that serves a stern warning to all who enter.

Once inside with no one else in sight, the place was so beautiful and calm that it seemed enchanted.

We anchored Gypsy in pure sand in 10’ of water and swam ashore to explore.

There was the wreck of what appeared to be a charter fishing boat tucked way up into the bay. We followed a dirt track inland and saw innumerable hermit crabs, cacti and what appeared to be dwarf palm trees. Then headed back to the boat for dinner.

The next day we raised anchor at just before sunrise and made our way out through the light surf at the harbor entrance just as the sun was coming up. What a glorious start to another beautiful day. We enjoyed a delightful sail in 12 to 15 nmp of wind, broad reaching all the way to our next destination.

It was late in the afternoon when we arrived at the next archipelago, which turned out to be so achingly beautiful that I’m reluctant to name it. It’s one of the smaller island groups in the region and completely uninhabited. A place of such raw and undeveloped beauty that, so incredibly stunning, that it’s hard to comprehend. We pulled up the lee of the largest island and anchored Gypsy in 15’ of water with a pure white sand bottom, right in the middle of a large open bay. Incredibly there no other boats in sight, we had this whole amazing place to ourselves, at least that what I thought. I soon found out differently when I jumped in to dive the anchor and ran into the biggest, rudest barracuda I’ve ever met. To make matters work he had no concept about personal space. What is it with these fish?

That bastard of a barracuda was still lurking under Gypsy the next morning when we launched the dink. When this fish swam under the dink it was almost as long as the dink was wide. We motored to the beach for a walk and then took off in the dink in search for a channel into the large shallow bay in the center of the island.

What an incredible find that was. We saw a couple of manta rays gliding by in the shallow water, two young turtles about 2’ long, and then way in we came across a sand shark in 3’ of water.

We continued to explore the main island and were greatly rewarded with its pristine and wild beauty.

Next we explored so some of the smaller islands and continued to be amazed by the splendor of this place.

The next day we left our enchanted archipelago early for Elizabeth Harbor, Georgetown, Great Exuma Island. We raised the main sail and then the anchor, all without starting the engine. We were underway by 6:30am an hour before sunrise. The wind was light at 8 nmp out of the east. We raised our spinnaker for the first time and instantly jumped from 4-6 knots of boat speed. We had a delightful sail all through the day and arrived at the southern most entrance of the harbor at 3:00 pm.

From there it we enjoyed a most pleasant sail down wind, wing-on-wing the entire length of the harbor. We noticed lots of boats lining the harbor as we sailed by. Quite a contrast from our days of being the only boat around. As beautiful as our immersion into the natural world had been we were both ready for more human contact. It had been a week since we had spoken to anyone besides each other.

We had the most wonderful light wind sail, ghosting along at 4 knots through this great harbor, finally arriving off the last anchorage, Monument Beach, at 4:00 pm. We dropped our anchor in 11’ feet of water into a mix of white sand and light grass. Just as we made fast our anchor a fellow cruiser pulled up in his dink and introduced himself as Greg of Lucky Dancer the boat next to ours. Greg had noticed that we were out of Mystic Connecticut, he was out of Noank himself, the next town over and where Gypsy had spent last winter. We chatted briefly and then he floored us by asking if we knew Tom Kintz. Oh yes, we said in unison, Tom had brokered the sail of Gypsy and my previous two boats. Turns out that Tom had brokered his boat deal as well. We both agreed that Tom “was the best” and I smiled inwardly as I thought about just how small this big world can be. Once Greg left we tested our anchor with full reverse and dove it to make sure. We then celebrated our arrival and good fortune with good D.R. rum. A beautiful sunset, complete with a celebratory kiss, made things complete.

12/10/09 Arriving in the Bahamas – dan

We had a beautiful day of sailing in 14-18 nmp of wind as we made our way westward along the coast of the D.R. and then Haiti. Gypsy made the best mileage so far, riding those winds and large 8’ – 12’ swells - she did 155nm in 24 hours. It was dark before we were clear the coast of Haiti and we were approaching the eastern tip of Cuba. All the shipping in this area was headed to or from, Florida and the Golf of Mexico was squeezed into Old Bahamas Channel. We were also concerned about small boats out of Haiti & Cuba so we worked through the night doing short, two-hour watches and being extra vigilante. We did see a lot of boat traffic during our passage, fortunately none of it was overtly threatening.

Twenty-six hours later we arrived at Matthew Town, Great Inagua Island, the Bahamas. We were dead tired from the previous night’s ordeal of short intense watches. Susan had a little difficulty with anchoring, which I addressed with some harsh works. We were both overtired and you can imagine how well (not) those harsh words landed. After securing Gypsy we inflated and launched the dinghy and proceeded to search out where we needed to check in.

Great Inagua posed a sharp contrast the D.R. The first thing we noticed was that they had a lot better boats here, especially those of the Defense Force like the one pictured below. I think that if the Bahamians ever wanted to invade the D.R., the Bahamians would win. I also suspect the Dominicans wouldn’t mind, as long as they bought something while they were there.

Next I noticed the difference in cars. Where as the people of the D.R. tend to pile lots of folks onto small motorcycles and into tiny cars and often have to contend with rutted roads and rugged, hilly terrain, the people on Great Inagua have fairly good roads, dead flat terrain but tend to drive around alone or in pairs in large American pickup trucks. Both populations are very friendly and it wasn’t long before an older man driving a pickup and drinking a beer offered us a ride.

Another thing the people of both islands seem to share is a love for television. When we entered the customs office there was a TV on in front of the officials that was playing an American soap opera. The officials themselves were all in uniform, very professional, helpful and courteous. We were soon officially checked into the country. On our way back to Gypsy we talked about the anchor incident, and I made my apologies. Sometimes it takes more that a simple apology to make things better. In this case it took my apologies and 14 hours of uninterrupted sleep on Susan’s part to work their magic.

The next day we awoke to a gloriously beautiful morning feeling refreshed and whole again. Susan made us a delicious breakfast; an omelet and potato pancakes. When I realized I was forgiven the sun shined all the more brightly and Susan suggested we take the bikes ashore to see the sights. That turned out to be a terrific idea.

Great Inagua is not often visited and known for two things: Morton salt works and the pink flamingos. We landed our bikes and headed off in search of both. It’s a good thing I didn’t know that the salt works were 8 miles away or the flamingo preserve was another 4 miles further or I may not have gone for it, but ignorance is indeed bliss and off we went.

After peddling for miles we came to a mountain, the only one in sight. Well is it seemed like a mountain compared to the pool-table flatness of the rest of the island. In actuality it was only a 40’ high hill and being the only feature in sight I suggested we climb it. We quickly scrambled up to the top and I then claimed this desolate land “in the name of the King of Spain” in recognition and as reward for bring the world the Spanish Inquisition. Seemed like a fitting gesture.

The interior of the island is an amazingly bleak and blasted landscape. We had passed a sign indicating and iguana preserve but the only lizards that I ever saw on the island were way back in town, drinking rum and looking very happily evolved. After a good long ride we arrived at the banks of a shallow salt drying pond, part of 12,000 acres of such ponds on the island. Off in the distance a mountain of gleaming salt shined brightly in the strong afternoon sunlight.

Further down the road we came to the bank of a 12-mile long Lake Windsor, home of the pink flamingos. The lake looked as blasted as the landscape but there implausibly, off in the distance we could see a couple of dozen pink flamingos wading in the water. I couldn’t remember if I had ever seen a live flamingo before. My memories are crowded with innumerable flamingos adoring countless lawns all across of America. That, plus a lifetime of seeing them in a myriad of wildlife films. I can’t be certain but I suspect these may have been the first wild flamingos I’ve ever seen. It was a such surreal sight to see these very large and festive looking birds looking comfortable in such an austere and bleak landscape. Susan thinks they look better here than in stuck a neighbor’s front yard.

As we peddled the 12 miles back to the dinghy it got hotter and hotter and a delicious fantasy begun to build in my mind. We paused to drink the last of our water and then drove onward. I pictured myself, upon arrival at our dinghy tossing my bike down and running into those turquoise waters, cooling my entire body and melding with all those shades of blue. The more I peddled the more real my fantasy became until I could see every tiny detail, feel the water, even taste it’s tangy saltiness on my lips.

As we rounded the last bend in the road I used my last once of energy to hasten my arrival. With the beach and our dink in sight, just as my aquatic fantasy and core body temperature were at a crescendo, a bomb landed on me. Susan asked if we could ride on into town. I couldn’t believe it, how could she ruin such a beautiful fantasy. I was devastated. I hate to deny Susan anything but the water beckoned me with a desire stronger that a team of Clydesdales. Suddenly a possible compromise popped into my poor boiled brain; could we stop for a swim first, and then proceed to town? As I thought about it, I was amazed that my cognitive functions were still operative and then eternally grateful when Susan agreed to the suggestion.

I plunged into that water like a man who had ridden 24 miles across a desert island. The water was a perfect temperature; just cold enough to be chilling and warm enough to stay in all day, mmmmmmmmmmm I was in heaven.

Once cooled down enough we got back on our bikes and peddled the two miles into Matthew Town. The town isn’t much to behold and looks like it had seen better days. We stopped in the tiny grocery store where my first order of business was to purchase two ice-cold ginger beers and then stepped out side to down them. We then toured the town, past a loud electrical generator plant, past a couple of churches, then past a couple of schools. Six blocks later we were on the far edge of town. We circled back to the store and picked up a few groceries and two six-packs of that ginger beer then headed back to Gypsy, tired and satisfied.

I snorkeled under the boat to check for growth. Luperon harbor is famous for fouling bottoms. Our bottom was in pretty good shape but prop and engine cooling water intake were covered in young barnacles so I cleaned them.

We were the only boat anchored within the huge outer bay. It was just our small boat with an unobstructed view of horizon stretching off to the west of us. That night after enjoying Susan’s stir-fry dinner in the cockpit we watched for the green flash as the sun headed under the horizon. Not yet for the flash but it was then that we started what I hope will be an institution for us going forward; a kiss at sunset.

12/9/09 Leaving Hispaniola – dan

It wasn’t easy leaving the Dominican Republic. We had a wonderful stay, saw much of the beautiful country side, met lots of interesting people, many of whom we would have loved to get to know better. But we were already over our budgeted time of two weeks for the D.R. and still had half the Bahamas to traverse, not too quickly, towards Georgetown where we were planning to hook up with Susan’s two children; Chelsea and David for Christmas.

We started our last day in Luperon early at the street side vegetable market that happens every Tuesday just up the street from the town square. It’s a rapid-fire business that’s half commerce and half street theater for most everyone involved. A farm truck is unloaded on the side of the road. A scale is hung from a slim tree branch and the market is open. Vegetables are dropped onto the scale as soon as the previous order is removed, sometimes sooner, pardon me. Some of the shoppers are deadly serious as they scrutinize each carrot, tomato and cabbage head. Others step back from time to time and take in the beautiful spectacle that is all-of-us; the buyers and sellers of fresh vegetables on this beautiful Dominican Republic morning.

After Shaggy’s we headed to Customs & Immigration to check out of the country. They had power today and it was colder that the frozen foods section of any supermarket inside. Next we had to see the Commandante (Navy) for our departure clearance. We had seen him on the quay when we arrived but unbeknownst to us they were too busy to inspect us; he had just waved us on. We entered the Naval compound by traversing a dubious footbridge and short up hill walk. The Comamdante was wearing US brand of hunting camo, a big smile and gave us a warm handshake as he motioned us into an office. We sat across the desk from him, next to a TV that was playing a mob movie staring AL Pachino, in English, which is strange. It’s not strange that the Commandante has a TV going, everyone with any kind of an office in this country has them on all the time. It’s just that the Commadante doesn’t appear to speak English. He called out the door for someone to translate. As we waited I wondered about the image that we (the USA) project to the world; soap operas & gangster movies? A young man, wearing corporal stripes on the latest digital fatigues, comes in and sits next to Susan. He’s carrying an M16 and is the first person in this country of many firearms who is carrying one like it’s a weapon. Then I notice his magazine is empty. Like the Barney Fife routine from Mayberry; you can have the gun, but you only get one bullet, and that you must keep safely in your pocket son.

Finally a young man in civilian cloths came in and interpreted for us as we completed the formalities. Since we hadn’t been inspected when we arrived they would do so now. We followed the young corporal down to the quay where we met several other men in civilian clothes with 45s tucked into the front of their pants. One said that they were in the Navy and that four of them were going to inspect our boat. The wind was blowing pretty strong and one of them asked; how big is your dinghy? We showed them our dink, a rapid-fire conversation in Spanish ensued and he announced that three of them would be able to complete the inspection. So the five of us, Susan, myself, and three navy guys piled into our 10’ dinghy for a wet ride out to Gypsy. They boarded and asked for some blank paper, they were out of forms, and proceeded to do the “paperwork” in the cockpit. They then asked if we had any firearms or other dangerous weapons aboard, took a brief look below and said we were free to go as soon as we took them back to the quay. I guess they save lots of money on boats, gas and uniforms that way. Perhaps our own navy could take a lesson in these tough economic times.

After returning the Dominican Navy to the quay we headed to the Yacht Club for dinner. The Yacht Club occupies a very lovely location with invisible horizon pools, and the upper deck where we dined provides an excellent view of the harbor, sunset as well as getting a nice breeze. All that and it’s a very low-key, warm, friendly and fun-loving place. We had a delicious dinner and more good buys to new friends. While we were eating we heard “Gypsy, Gypsy - Sand Dollar” on the clubs VHF radio, which like the rest of the harbor, is always tuned to channel 68. I answered and made plans to meet them after dinner on their boat.

Sand Dollar is a 43’ double-ended cutter crewed by Lisa and Cade. Lisa was the first person to welcome us to Luperon and we really enjoyed getting to know her and her husband Cade during our stay. They are treasure troves of local knowledge and generously shared with us lots of valuable information, even invited us on a couple of trips they had arranged into the countryside.

She was a chemist and he a chemical engineer before they started their cruising life eight years ago. Lisa is a very warm and caring person. Cade is Spanish speaker, a keen observer of cultures and a good storyteller. My favorite was about a trip he took into the jungles of Panama with a bunch of Kuna Indians to fell and mill a huge mahogany tree for their village.

The crew of Sand Dollar had been contemplating returning to the states and work life, which they’ll do, like everything they do; deliberately and after lots of careful consideration. Their time schedule for leaving Luperon and short-term destinations coincided with ours and we were looking forward to seeing more of them in the Bahamas. It got Susan and I thinking about our own return to land life; what would trigger that, where would we land, what were the essentials that we’d be looking for in our new home.

Several people we met had bought land in the D.R. and either already had houses or were planning on building. It’s an incredibly beautiful place to settle, great climate, little tax, decent health care, very affordable land and labor prices. When I say it’s beautiful, I mean world-class beauty. It a huge island, the second largest in the Caribbean, lots of coast, huge interior and mountains over ten thousand feet tall. But when Susan and I talked about it we both knew on many levels that the D.R., as nice as it is, wouldn’t be the place for us. But what & where would, we wondered?

Long-story-short it started a very interesting conversation between us that centered around the question; where in the world would we come to ground when we’re through sailing and on what criteria would we base such a decision. It’s something I had considered when initially planning this trip. You see I’m a fan of the Covey principles and one of my favorite is; Begin with the end in mind. It an open question that I won’t go any further into in this post, as this post is growing overly long and it’s a rich enough topic to deserve it’s own post.

Just before our departure the crew of Sand Dollar had an interesting development. Cruiser friends of theirs had bought a small (50 acre) farm near Luperon and asked them if they were interested in helping to get it started. It has a caretaker’s house that needs a roof. A generator house that needs a generator and a cistern that has to be overhauled. All to be done before they would start building the couples new home on the property. After careful consideration Cade and Lisa said yes for a while anyways, as long as it’s good. And so a new chapter and a new adventure begins for the crew of Sand Dollar.

Where we’re going – dan

It’s not easy and there’s lots of excuses to stay put, but “we’ve miles to go before we sleep” as Frost says, so we’re planning on leaving this amazing place tomorrow morning. We’re headed for the Bahamas. We probably won’t have internet until we get to Great Exuma so I’ll give a lay out of our itinerary now:

We plan on going to Great Inagua Island first which lies just off the Eastern end of Cuba about 140 nm from where are now. That should be a short overnight hop from here. Next we’re going to Acklins Island. On the way there we’re going to pass Hogsty Reef, which is one of the few true coral atolls in the North Atlantic. We plan on checking Hogsty out and if conditions are good we’ll stop and anchor. From Acklins we plan to run east along Long Island to tiny Conception Island, which is uninhabited and a National Park. From there we plan to head to Georgetown, Great Exuma where we hope to hook up with Susan’s children for Christmas.

the simple things -susan

The simplicity of living that I witness here in Luperon is inspiring. It is not unusual to find a couple of people in the shade of a tree – reworking the parts of a motorconcho (motorcycle). If something breaks, it gets fixed. What a concept! In Santiago, the second largest city in DR, we passed by a shop that sells used parts: parts of electrical elements, mechanical parts, usable remains of no longer functioning items.
I have also noticed beauty in the makeshift fix-ups to fences, chairs, just about anything. Functionality is a feature that is in focus here. As we walked into town yesterday we noticed a wheel fastened to a flat frame. Not exactly a wheelbarrow but definitely a mechanism to move desired objects.
I have been trying to sharpen my sense of hearing. Dan and I have moved our sleeping quarters to the bow of the boat again to take advantage of the better air circulation. On clear nights we have the hatch completely open and the screen at least slows down the bugs. When I woke this morning I listened to the symphony that was slowly unfolding. In the stillness before the Trades start to blow I can hear a soft crinkle against Gypsy’s hull. We’re been told it’s the sound of shrimp snapping their claws as they are feeding near the side of the boat. In the distance, if you listen carefully, you can hear the booming of the surf against the reefs outside the harbor. Next, near us, there is a steady, rhythmic sound of water lapping in the stillness that I recognize to be the rowing of an oar; probably one of the locals going out to fish in the early morning calm. From the direction of land over the mangroves is the crow of a rooster, several times, and next the deep bellow of a cow, maybe being rounded up for milking. The sound of a small engine is accentuated by men’s voices speaking rapid Spanish to one another; these fishers have the benefit of motor power. To complete the scene we end with the staccato of a bird’s call overhead.

Have I been walking blindly through my life? I feel blessed to have the time and inclination to pause and take in my surroundings.

What we’ve been up to – dan

We’ve been doing lots and not much at all. To put it another way we’ve been all over the activity spectrum but before I get into that I want to talk about “experience” in general and how that relates to what motivates me to write this blog. Several friends have indicated that they’re living vicariously through our adventures and while that’s certainly ok it’s not the effect I’m hoping to achieve with my writing. Rather than to entertain, amuse or pass time, I’m hoping that these words will encourage you, the readers, to seek your own heart’s desire and to pursue that desire, in your own best time, to your own fullest expression, whatever that might be. I haven’t a clue what that might be for you, but I’m certain you know. You might not be immediately conscious of that knowledge and have to look deep inside for your own answers, I’m sure you’ll be rewarded if you do. So whatever you read that we’re doing at the moment; working through a storm or sailing easily with the trades, sitting on a beach or sliding down a waterfall, what we’re really doing, the important part, is that we’re living life to our fullest.

Now on to what we’ve been doing lately. We’ve been swimming and snorkeling off a beach that is just outside the harbor. One day I broke out my windsurfer but didn’t have quite enough wind to manage a water start. The visibility isn’t great so the snorkeling is so-so but the swimming has been fun and refreshing.

We’ve also done a little bit of yoga on the beach and even in the water (hydro yoga?). We spent a little down time on the boat where we took turns reading to one another. We finished Whom the Sea Has Taken. After reading that book we were left wondering why anyone would subject themselves voluntarily to 204 days on an unstable and uncomfortable raft drinking bad water and poor provisions. We are the architects of our fate and sometimes really wonder about the “houses” that we sometimes build for ourselves. We then burnt through Richard Back’s wonderful little book called Illusions and started My old man and the Sea which we’re finding most enjoyable. That’s some of our laid back activities.

One day we traveled to Santiago, the second largest city in the D.R. And on the more adventures side; we joined several other cruisers and traveled up a jungle river, then slid down through slot canyons and over a dozen waterfalls. That was a beautiful and incredible day. No mater what we do we always start out and end up back in Luperon harbor. The harbor, not unlike much of the D.R., has two almost diametrically opposing aspects; the wonderful and the not-so-wonderful. The harbor, like most busy harbors, can be dirty, sometime oily, sometimes it smells fishy, other times it smells septic, sometimes they burn trash on the jetty that leads into town. It also feeds a lot of people. We watched fishermen hand casting nets as well as setting light gill nets all through the day. We have seen murky swimmers going along the mangroves collecting oysters and at night we’ve seen the most amazing display of bioluminescence I’ve ever seen. When we drive our dingy back to the boat at night it looks like one of those cars one sometimes sees in the city with black lights underneath and the wake often glows for several yards behind us. Toss a bucket of it in the air at night and your get a Milkyway Galaxy of light. The harbor is also a spectacular place to watch the sunrises and sunsets. That’s were we’ve been staying.

Yesterday has to be one of the peak experiences of our trip. We managed to hook up with an elusive caballero (horseman) called Tobacco and rode his horses up the side of a near-by mountain. Susan has ridden horses since she was a little girl, owned a few and even raised a couple. I’ve done a bit of riding myself, not enough to call myself a rider but I do love it.

Tobacco, the man, is an excellent horseman as well a very engaging person and his horses are grand. Susan and I both rode mares who were accompanied by their foals, which was very charming and added another dimension to the whole experience. Tobacco told us that he has about ten routes that he rides; some went along a beach, some to a river where you can swim. We ended up going into the mountains and were rewarded with some of the most amazing countryside I’ve ever seen. But let me back up a bit. We had arranged to meet Tobacco at the town square. That didn’t seem odd to us, as we had previously seen horses ridden in town. We were sitting on a bench at the appointed hour and were waiting for the Caballero and his horses to show up when a motorcycle pulled up behind us and I felt a tap on my shoulder; Remember me the smiling cherub face of Tobacco said. He indicated that we were to join him on his motorcycle, all 100 cc of it and all three of us. For some odd reason we complied and the three of us were soon zooming down the road, headed to the outskirts of town.

We arrived at a house that was modest by D.R. standards, un-exceptional except for the small herd of horses standing in front. We soon mounted and were joined by a young boy and a small pack of dogs. It didn’t take us long to get out of town and into the country. Paved roads turned into dirt tracks that got rougher the farther we went. We passed through some beautiful farms and the terrain become rougher, steeper and as it did our little pack of hounds wore down as the dogs dropped out by ones and twos until there was just one left. The remaining pero was paradoxically the smallest of the pack, a wiener dog, no less, but it had a great spirit and obviously loved the excursion at least as much as we did.

I’ve never been a fan of small dogs in general and the wiener had been one of my least loved breeds but I’ve learned not to underestimate wiener dogs on this trip. In Bermuda we befriended a single hander who had a mighty wiener aboard. The dog’s name was Rocky and he would bark and growl whenever anyone came near their boat. Try to board and he gets real ugly and even bites. I’ll never forget Peter’s warning to us regarding Rocky; “Never look the wiener dog in the eye, he takes is as a challenge”.

We rode the horses up into some very rugged and high pasturelands on precipitous trails. At one point a large bull charged Susan and the wiener went into full-on guard mode and charged that poor bull right back. The mighty wiener drove that big bull off in a fit of barking and repeated ankle level attacks. Our hero.

We rode through small fields of 18” high grasses and for long periods we could only see the tip of the wiener dog’s tail. We dismounted in one such field to rest the horses and the child took some bark from nearby tree and slid down the grassy hill like he was on a toboggan, wiener dog in tow. From there we started our long way back down the mountain and into town. At one point two bright yellow butterflies fluttered down the path and for quite a ways stayed within arm’s reach of me. It was after dark when we completed the ride that had lasted four amazing hours. With some sadness that our ride was now over, special warmth in our hearts and smiles on our faces, we bid our ridding companions our fondest thanks and good-byes.