Our travel days on the return trip from the Bahamas were as calm as we could have ever dreamed of. The day we left Bimini was no exception. The moonlight guided us out of the harbor and we turned toward the US with relatively no wind against us and small swells gently pushing us for the next few hours. The Gulf Stream was working with us on this crossing and blessed us with a favorable push across the border. The royal blue waters rippled under the bow as the sun was soon flickering off the crest of the swells like disco lights. I threw out the fishing line in a last attempt to haul in a big catch to close out our big sea adventure, but other than some nibbles, I had no luck.
After a super serene day on the water, we turned into the Port Everglades inlet around 1pm and were met head on with mass mayhem. Boats were zipping around haphazardly with little regard for those around them. We were getting rocked from every direction like we were battling the perfect storm. Even the idea of a “slow pass” was out of the question to these inconsiderate “Captains”-I use that word loosely. It had been weeks since I had to straighten up the cabin after a travel day, but the last 15 minutes of the trip tossed everything mercilessly around. Good thing the Captain’s socks have been safely hidden away. We looked at each other dejectedly wishing we could just turn around and retreat back to our island paradise.
We found it strange and unnerving that people were partying with no restrictions. We did not know what to exactly expect arriving back to the States during the pandemic, but this was definitely not the scene we envisioned. We arrived in Lake Sylvia and made two passes through the anchorage before we were able to situate Bella Donna in a favorable spot for the evening. Right now we were longing for our secluded anchorages overlooking white sand beaches listening to the roosters, not being rocked by jet skis and overwhelmed by techno music. The lake was surrounded by million dollar estates doing their best to one up each other as the music blared and revelers partied into the night. Jet skiers weaved their way between the buoys precariously close to those anchored toward the edge. It was sort of a culture shock for us.
The next day there was a torrential downpour. Grabbing our rain jackets which have not made an appearance in weeks, we went ashore to get some supplies. Ice Cream was at the top of Duane’s list as I was in search of a new toilet seat. The salt water and the wooden seat we set out with did not end up getting along very well. And we both agreed take-out from the Mexican restaurant was a perfect way to welcome ourselves home. It was surreal to walk through the streets and stores viewing the world behind a mask.
The rain continued most of the next day so I sautéed the remaining fresh conch we had procured with our friends in Bimini to cheer us up and bring back some very FINE memories. Duane went ashore to Kelly’s Corner to pick up some steamers and mussels and we indulged in our seafood feast and some red wine. We were reluctantly easing back into the more hectic boating life I had almost forgotten about.
Moving on the next day toward the Clematis dock in West Palm Beach, the sun had finally emerged. It was a slow moving day as we traveled along “bridge row” as I called this stretch trying to time the opening of each bridge we were too tall to pass under. There were about twenty bridges along the way and Bella Donna was not able to squeeze under seven of them. The Captain did an excellent job of speeding up when need be as to avoid idling thirty minutes in the channel for the next opening. It was also another trying day dealing with boat wakes, jet skiers and mega yachts as we were cut off left and right with not so much as a wave of acknowledgement. Tying up to the dock a little before 5pm, Duane popped open some sparkling Rose to continue the birthday month celebrations. After walking to the brewery, we were disappointed to learn they had re-closed the establishment as a result of Covid concerns while “rethinking their plan to reopen in a pandemic world” and settled on take-out from Papa John’s.
Moving on to The Stuart Corinthian Yacht Club the next morning, we had a brief glimpse of crystal blue waters that reminded us of the Bahamas while passing the Jupiter Inlet around the lighthouse. And just like that the image was gone….the water darkened, the banks were lined with cargo ships and the channel narrowed significantly making us slightly claustrophobic. I was so excited once we were tied up at the dock that I could hardly contain myself when the last line was secured. We hadn’t set foot in a marina since we had arrived in Bimini after that traumatic night in January. Now three and a half months later, I practically sprinted up the hill to enjoy the longest and hottest shower I had been able to enjoy in forever. Back on the boat, Duane turned on the air conditioner to get rid of the dampness that had engulfed every inch of our living space the last few months. We hooked up to the water connection and scrubbed our prized possession from bow to stern. Our no frills beach bungalow which had taken us safely around the Bahamas had now been transformed into a five star penthouse suite smelling particularly fresh.
Later that evening, we took Baby Belle across the bay to have drinks and appetizers at the Twisted Tuna. The outdoor area had just recently fully opened as well as the inside dining room being opened at 25% capacity. We hadn’t been at a bar or restaurant in two months and relished the idea of some normalcy returning to our lives. Then…we both cringed when the bartender manhandled the orange slice before dropping it in Duane’s beer with a splash. We chuckled as that was something I would never have even noticed in a pre-Covid world. Definitely a new normal.
Bob and Stephanie had already driven home to Connecticut by the time we arrived in town so we walked over to their house to pick up some packages Duane had shipped there while we were in the Bahamas and I dropped off a conch shell I managed to salvage from our excursion. Duane’s friend Chris and his wife, Maily, lived in the area and Chris was nice enough to pick me up to take me to the laundromat. Other than my manual washing machine, I had not properly washed clothes in two months so I pretty much filled the back of his truck with bags of salty crusty clothes, towels and sheets. As I threw load after load in the machines, I had flashbacks of the cool sea breeze blowing through the Bahamian laundromat overlooking the turquoise waters. Emerging onto the hot asphalt of the Publix parking lot to honking car horns, this scenario was far from the same. Duane was also going through Bahamian withdrawals as he became severely upset when he noticed the underwater lights only lit up a foot or so behind the boat now. In the Bahamas, we could see over 40 feet around us with the occasional Saul swimming through the glow.
The rain had returned in the morning so I decided to take advantage of the cool cabin temperatures and clean the inside of the boat as well as cook some travel meals while the Captain took off to the consignment store. It is better he tackle these adventures alone as to not feel rushed when scouring every inch of the shelves for “boat treasures.” Ordering dinner from the Yacht Club the prior day, the food was soon delivered to our door. We had a delectable meal of fish tacos and beef sliders with French fries….another staple I hadn’t realized we had been missing for so long. I know it will take time, but right now I’d give up french fries for one more Bahamian sunset. Not a possibility, I indulged myself in the crispy deliciousness as I caught a glimpse of the orange ski through the trees.
