Goodbye for Now

Now it’s time to say goodbye…

So, another season on the water comes to an end.  In 2015, we spent 12 weeks; in 2016, 19 weeks; and now in 2017, 14 weeks.  Looking back, here are some of our wrap-up thoughts.

We found greater confidence in handling Azure Wind, knowing how to troubleshoot if not always being able to repair the problems, moving her on and off the dock, picking up and dropping off our guests.  And, we finally figured out the occasional water-in-the-bilge issue (related to replacing a hot water heater last summer)!

We have loved the sense of teamwork we share, working often without saying a word, just knowing what the other needs, pointing here and there and picking up the signals.

We have been more relaxed and have enjoyed three and four night stays in one anchorage. 

We continued to enjoy our island connections through the church nearby, a few growing friendships with other cruisers, and gratitude for the professional and friendly help we have received from the marina staff.

We spent more time this year in the USVI, especially in the national park and enjoyed several new anchorages including Cooper Island, Charlotte Amalie harbor on St. Thomas, Christiansted harbor on St. Croix, Great Lameshur Bay on St. John, and Deep Bay on Virgin Gorda.  And we enjoyed visiting favorite anchorages from our previous seasons.  One of the things we have come to appreciate is the large number of bays available here; most of the islands farther south have only a couple of safe anchorages.

We had more time to think and reflect – a wonderful gift.  Marney wrote two sermons; I wrote a reflection on framing future development for the Taos community.  I come away wanting to reflect more on the nature of friendship and stewardship in the months ahead.  For example: what is at the core of a friendship that can draw someone closer to a neighbor than to a nuclear family member?  how is it best achieved to transition a parent-child relationship into a friendship?  what makes for good stewardship when you live on a boat?  how does cleaning something – anything – you “own” (which to our way of thinking, we don’t, but have borrowed from God’s cornucopia of life) nurture faithful stewardship?

We noted:

- shallowest water was at the mooring ball in the marina:  5 feet  (we have a 4 foot draft)

- deepest water was sailing over the trench on the way to St. Croix:  14,000 feet

- best snorkeling this year: with the school of fish off Cooper Island

- best restaurant with a view:  Hog Heaven on Virgin Gorda

- quietest anchorage:  Deep Bay on Virgin Gorda

- noisiest anchorage:  Penns Landing (our home base) with those loud cigarette boats roaring in and out

- most enjoyable moment: hosting a Methodist clergy couple (he had grown up on St. Martin and she on Dominica) for a sail – neither had ever been sailing before.

We leave understanding even more how living on the water is so different from living on the land.  Living with constant motion, paying constant attention to the integrity of the boat, looking at nature with an eye toward the sea… and not once having to think about those prairie dogs!  Where wind, water, and earth meet is such an amazing place of energy and adventure. 

We’re ready, refreshed, and curious to see what will happen next.  And that includes questions about a next season here.  We’re listening to God’s leading, grateful for the people, places, and opportunities of this time.

All the best,

…wishing you fair winds and calm seas…and a solid enough boat for those moments when the winds and seas don’t cooperate

Dave

winding down

winding down

we’re back at the marina

and probably won’t

take the boat out again

(except for a quick run to make water)

the cleaning up and closing down chores

will keep us busy

until it’s time to depart

it’s been a happy season

moderate winds

sunny skies

enjoyable sailing

small improvements to the boat

learning to care for it better

growing friendships with a few cruisers

good company from back home

it’s felt comfortable

to go back to places we know

pick up routines already familiar

feel the confidence of building on all we learned last year

and without everything being new

we’ve been glad to

sail to some new places – St. Croix, St. Thomas

discover a few new anchorages

find some shelling beaches

get comfortable docking and anchoring

try a new restaurant or two

four months has been about right

I’ll miss the warm sun

the soft air

the sparkling water

living in bathing suits and bare feet

but I’m ready to go home now

for a season

sunday 2 april

lent 2017

Penns Landing

3 turtles & a ray

3 turtles & a ray

paddleboarding

late in the afternoon

in the shallow waters off the beach

I happened on a ray

dark and sleek

moving quickly along the sea floor

his pointy nose and heart-shaped body

trailing a long skinny tail

not far away

I spotted a large turtle

who appeared to be taking a nap on a rock

at the bottom of the sea

soft browns and greens, even reds

woven in intricate patterns on his back

I alerted some nearby snorkelers

who promptly chased him away

with their splashing fins and underwater cameras

but when I followed

I found two more

this pair was swimming

gliding slowly through sunlit waters

popping their heads up now and then

for a breath of fresh air

how blessed I am

to see such beauty and grace

in the course of an ordinary day

and in a part of the world

so utterly unlike my own

monday 27 march

lent 2017

Maho Bay, St. John

Four Memories

 (from the last week of March, 2017)

WEATHER.  The weather of late has been hot, sticky, windy, rainy and several combinations thereof. You watch the weather reports and predictions, and it’s been a challenge to find good calm anchorages – especially when the winds and waves are “clocking”, meaning that one day the winds may be coming from the east, the next day from the south, a third day from the north…and the waves may or may not be coming from those same directions!  Winds coming from the south?  Go to the north side of the island…  Winds from the south and waves coming from the northwest?  Gulp.

The worst of it happened in Charlotte Amalie, St. Thomas.   We had been hosting good friends and were undecided about where to pick up our son, Matt and grandson Dylan.  The day we were to meet up, we had been intending to go to the east end of St. Thomas (Red Hook Bay), but the weather and some cruising friends encouraged us to re-think the plan.  The waves would be coming from the north and the anchorage at Red Hook is unprotected; the winds would be coming from the east, another reason to change plans.  We decided to head into the middle of the island and dropped the anchor…only to rock and roll during a night of heavy rain showers.  And, I spent a two-hour watch from 1-3am concerned about the nearest boat and the differences in our swings – we on our anchor chain and they on a mooring line.   We survived, damp, tired, and weary from three nights of the rolling motion.

Enough was enough.  We decided to spend more than we should have for one good night’s rest at the Yacht Haven Grande Marina. 

MEGAYACHTS

The Yacht Haven Grande Marina is the 2016 Megayacht Marina of the year.  This is a place for the largest of private motor and sailing yachts.  The marina can accommodate boats up to 650 feet long (that’s two football fields!), 18 feet deep, and as wide as needed.  And, they have a little section where our 40 foot boat could tie off for a calm overnight.   We partly spent the money thinking it would be an easy way for our son and grandson to climb aboard – stepping off a dock rather than climbing up from a bumpy dinghy ride.   And the boys certainly would be impressed by all those large boats.  Unfortunately, they were delayed a day and missed the “megas” (airline mechanical issues in Denver).

I experienced mixed emotions sitting among these huge boats.  The size of them does stir curiosity.  Enough that while taking a stroll on the dock that evening, we spoke to the crew awaiting the arrival of that boat’s owner.   The owners’ names are kept secret, as is the home country of the owner which may not be the country of the boat’s registration.   In one conversation, I learned that this boat was 200 feet long, had a full-time crew of sixteen (mostly young) persons, and could hold 30,000 (thirty thousand!!) gallons of diesel fuel.  With that much, this “little” yacht could travel from Ft. Lauderdale to Gibraltar before refueling (glad to know that because the Canary Islands house the only fuel plaza on this route across the Atlantic).  Balancing the curiosity was the sick feeling in my stomach, staring at the glittery perfection of that large a boat all polished and waxed with hundreds of brilliant lights.  This kind of wealth represents the 1% of the 1% in the world.  One night with the megayachts is probably enough to last a lifetime, especially since I’ve not read of an “open house” event that might satisfy my curiosity anyway.

The one interesting crew we met on the docks were the national sailors from Denmark.  The core crews had arrived for the spring regattas currently underway.

REGATTAS

Spring is regatta season around here.  Boats of various sizes compete in a series of daily races – some around St. Thomas and others around St. John.  This year happens to be the 100th anniversary of the United States’ purchase of the three Virgin Islands that used to be owned by Denmark (St. Croix, St. Thomas, St. John).  To celebrate the occasion, the Danes sent two 60 foot yawls to participate in this year’s regattas.  They are traditional wooden boats, very heavy and very slow, and were not about to win any speed contests.  Some of the crew had been on the water since last October, sailing from Denmark to the Canaries, and then from the Canaries to Barbados in eighteen days.  The rest of the crew had flown over for the week’s events. 

Sailors come from all over the Atlantic and Caribbean to participate.   And as the rains subsided, we headed eastward where we had several good opportunities to watch the races.  Such fun to see so many boats out on the open seas, different sizes/classes, some with those colorful spinnakers, others with those high tech racing sails.  We moved as close as we thought would be safe and not interfere with the fun of this season. 

And as our company leaves, the regattas will move with us to the British Virgins for another week of competitive fun.  As that happens we will say goodbye to son Matt and grandson Dylan.

DYLAN & MATT

Dylan is seven years old, in the second grade in Denver and is a wonderful young boy.  He spent these vacation days exploring life on a boat and in the anchorages.  He loved going fast in the dinghy with his Dad, liked to steer the big wheel, practiced his swimming, loved picking up shells on the beach, delighted in his snorkeling experiences, and learned to paddleboard with his grandma Tildie (Marney).  By the end of his visit, he was just about ready to take the board out on his own, though still a bit hesitant. 

Meanwhile, his Dad had an unfortunate encounter with a sea urchin (two needles in the heal of one foot) sending us scrambling for remedies.  After four visits to kindly sailing neighbors, we determined that the basic way to remove the needles is with vinegar, which dissolves them – you can’t cut them out.  And hot – very hot – fresh water is the best way to ease the pain.  We’ll be leaving the islands soon and returning to New Mexico, thankful that we won’t have to worry about sea urchins at 8,600 feet

and…

grateful for a few final memories from this season!

Fair Winds and Calm Seas

Dave

That's Wilson Gunn on the left!

pelican poop

pelican poop

an afternoon of scrubbing the deck

and I am finally

happily

ensconced in the hammock

enjoying a rest

and the early evening breeze

when to my horror

I see a blob that shouldn’t be there

on our newly scrubbed port bow

it looks like someone spilled

half a bucket of gunmetal-gray paint!

since that’s an improbable explanation

I reluctantly get up out of my hammock

to investigate

the blob smells like a can of rancid sardines

so I grab a bucket and a brush

yell to Dave for back-up

and we start sloshing it with salt water

it takes 10 minutes and some elbow grease

but we get it cleaned up

now I know nothing

about the digestive habits of birds

but I’ve decided

it must have been pelican poop

they’re the only birds around here

big enough to make that big a mess

maybe this one was sick

or maybe that’s just how pelicans poop —

come to think of it,

it looked like a larger, grayer version

of those runny little white bird droppings

that collect on park benches

and country mailboxes and car windshields —

and this bird was just rude enough

to hit my boat with his!

whatever the explanation

it’s not anything I care to see

(or smell) ever again!

now back to my hammock

for that stolen bit of peace and quiet

before it’s time for dinner

tuesday 21 march

lent 2017

Maho Bay, St. John

contentment

contentment

when it’s just us

the rhythms of this life

are simple

and nice

Dave, up early,

sits at the computer to write

or play online

or make plans

when I get up

I make us tea

and take my journal to the cockpit to write

or sing my prayers

or just daydream

if we’re moving the boat

we’ll take a morning sail

we sit together at the helm

managing the boat

and watching the world go by

by early afternoon

we’re anchored or moored somewhere

with time to swim, snorkel,

paddleboard, nap,

do chores or run errands as needed

by 5 we’re taking showers

(Dave in the cockpit, me down below)

then we get out drinks and appetizers

prep some fish and veggies to grill later

and settle in to watch the sunset

maybe catch the nightly news

or listen to some music

and talk — the best part of the day!

after dinner

there’s time to read

or call one of the kids

or stargaze on the bow

and watch a TV episode on video
before heading below

(lately it’s M-A-S-H or Cheers)

by 9, we’re usually asleep

the days are quiet

restful, even boring sometimes

and deeply satisfying

I do not need more than this

I am content in this season

thursday 16 march

lent 2017
Deep Bay, Virgin Gorda

A Slice of Heaven

In the three-tiered world of ancient times, hell was down, heaven was up, and earth was in the middle.   I suspect nearly all of us were introduced to these notions in our childhoods.  You descend into hell; you ascend into heaven.  They are places, one you want to avoid and the other you hope is the reward for a life well lived.

Despite the fact that my theological studies altered these ideas away from some “place” and toward some “experience” (hell is a life without God; heaven is life in tune with God), I sometimes fall back onto those original ideas.  Heaven is up!  It’s a place from which you can look down and see the world, its people, the ones you know from a different perspective. 

Living in a world of water surrounded mostly by volcanic based islands, you are surrounded by hills, lush green, and some rather majestic.  Yesterday, with the help of a taxi ride, I ascended to a slice of heaven.  It all started because we ran out of propane gas for our cooking grill.  In most places around the islands, refilling a tank is a two-day chore.  You drop off your empty tank, it is picked up and delivered to one central place where the tanks are filled and returned the next day.  Not true in Virgin Gorda.  The propane refill will take place anytime you can bring your tank to the service center.  You have to add the cost of a taxi ride.   Our schedule right now is pretty tight and when the staff at one resort said the cost of a taxi ride would only be $16 each way, we said OK.  Took the propane tank ashore, got a ride from Norvel, who’s lived his entire life at this end of Virgin Gorda.  He drove me the eight miles to Spanish Town at the other end of the island, up and over and down again, through a national park.  We talked.  Norvel said the highest point on the island is 1,300 feet above sea level.  I could believe it, given the fantastic views.  An hour later, we returned on the same route and Norvel took a side trip to show me a beautiful viewpoint, along with a new restaurant (he gets a small commission apparently).  While the taxi fare was more than I originally thought it would be, the ride and Norvel’s comments and the views were worth it.  Besides, the propane tank refill was $10 less than what we normally pay.  So far, so good.

GOOGLE EARTH PIC

Gorda Sound...Heaven's hill (Hog Heaven) is on the left; Mosquito Island top right; Prickly Pear Island top left
Deep Bay far right

By the end of the afternoon, Marney and I decided to treat ourselves to dinner at Hog Heaven, the name of the restaurant up in the hills.  It’s a barbecue place, very reasonably priced.  The food was tasty (it’s own slice of heaven) and the views were just as thrilling as earlier in the day.   Since most of you won’t have a chance in the near future to visit heaven for a look down, here’s a few pics.

Enjoy…

We certainly did!!

Fair Winds and Calm Seas

Gorda Sound, looking east with Leverick Bay nearest

Looking northeast into the Atlantic; Mosquito Island on left with reef (light line) extending out;  known as Drake's Anchorage, where the old privateer hid waiting for those loaded Spanish Galleons; Prickly Pear Island on right

Prickly Pear Island near right; Necker Island (owned by Sir Richard Branson) at center;  where the Obamas visited in late January (island is almost completely surrounded by reef - more accessible by helicopter than by boat!)

Bay at Biras Creek resort (other side is the Caribbean)... Deep Bay is to left

Saba Rock, restaurant located in cut between Prickly Pear Island and Virgin Gorda (out of view to right is the Bitter End Yacht Club & Hotel)

Leverick Bay...Azure Wind is first boat on mooring just off dock

View of "heaven" from down below  (taken from a rolling boat deck)