Author: diana.laverda1313@hotmail.com

The water was a sheet of glass when we exited the Rat Cut onto the Sound that cloudy morning. Motoring toward the Conch Cut for access into the deep water of Elizabeth Harbor, there was nothing more than small rollers off the stern pushing us along. Arriving around noon on the first day of the Island Regatta, the anchorages were packed with cruisers. We had heard on the daily 8am Cruiser’s Net on the VHF radio that approximately 325 boats had now arrived for the festivities. The Cruiser’s Net was an ingenious idea…at 8am one of the cruisers lead an informative talk which announced the events for the day, weather, arrivals and departures, asked if anyone needed help or parts, if anyone had items for trade and basically answered any question a fellow boater had.

After searching for awhile, we found the perfect area to park ourselves off Stocking Island near Volleyball Beach…which, coincidentally, was the location of the popular gathering spot-Chat ‘N’ Chill. Passing by Two Loons anchored near Monument Beach, we honked the horn as we were anxious to see Chris and Catherine after all this time. They were not at home so we proceeded to dinghy over to Lake Victoria and into Georgetown. Duane’s mom and Lisa would not be arriving for 4 days so we had time to explore and scope out the hot spots that we could take them to once they landed.

There was a water spigot on the dinghy dock which was utilized by cruisers to fill our jugs as often as we needed to. Garbage disposal in the whole town was in the form of a small pick-up truck where you threw your trash in the back and slipped $3 through the driver’s side window. We had now become accustomed to the simplicity of such every day tasks. Needing more data on his BTC card, we walked through town to locate the pink building just beyond the basketball courts. Directions to any location on the islands were never more explicit than landmarks to get you where you needed to be. A pleasant older gentleman was selling fresh produce on the side of the road and we scooped up some tomatoes, onions and peppers. He ended up being our “go to” grocer over the next two weeks of our stay. We hadn’t seen a liquor store since Nassau, so our last stop on the way back to the dock was to replenish our beer and rum supplies.

As we organized the boat, we heard familiar voices outside. Catherine and Chris had stopped by to say Hello on their way back from participating in the Poker Run that afternoon. I was heartbroken to have missed the one event I actually wanted to participate in as a bar crawl/poker game/dinghy race on the water was right up my alley. Making plans to meet at Chat ‘N’ Chill for the Variety Show the next day, Catherine and Chris took off and we decided to go ashore to see what the Chat ‘N’ Chill bar dubbed “day camp for adults” was all about. Located on Stocking Island and only accessible by water, the small shack on the sand was the quintessential island beach bar right down to the sandy floors, memorabilia hanging from the rafters and the thirty minutes it took to get a beer. The “island time” mentality still eludes me.

Coming ashore the next day for the Variety Show, we brought our seating which conveniently had space for some beverages to avoid the long wait at the bar empty-handed, which everyone, not only us, seemed to loathe. Catherine and Chris introduced us to some other boaters and our group congregated on the beach watching and laughing at the various acts ranging from musical numbers to comedy sketches to magic acts. Even the island Junkanoo band made an appearance.

The next morning we rallied early to come ashore to witness the Coconut Challenge. We had wanted to participate, but were not able to find two other boaters at such short notice who needed teammates. In the end, that was a blessing. As we watched the participants maneuver their motor-less dinghy with only one flipper for navigation and gather filthy coconuts while banging off each other, we were happy not to have subjected Baby Belle to that torture. It was hysterical to watch the antics from shore.

Before going over for drinks on Two Loons that evening, we took a short ride over to the Piece and Plenty Beach Bar at the far end of Stocking Island. The crystal clear water off the beach was an array of turquoise and aqua enhanced by the sand bar which stretched well out from the shore. Our bartender, Chocolate, made us hefty frozen rum drinks which hit the spot on such a hot day and we decided to split a turkey burger. Good thing too since it was a whooping $20…I made sure to load up on condiments and score an extra bag of chips to get my money’s worth. We had a pleasant evening catching up on Two Loons and forgot how comfortable and spacious their power catamaran was. They too were having an unforgettable adventure and we talked for hours about all we had been through since that fateful day on the rivers.

In anticipation of our family’s arrival that evening, we moved the boat to Flamingo Bay into an area called the Litter Box on the Georgetown side of the Harbor. It was perfect timing too as the Regatta softball game against the Bahamian locals was that evening and the event would now be an easy walk from where we were able to land the dinghy. Before we left to cheer on the cruisers while enjoying conch fritters and rum punch, we received a message from Lisa that they were having issues with their travel arrangements and would not be on the flight to Georgetown for two more days. We were disappointed, but it was just a delay and we would still have five days together. On the plus side for us, we were able to stay at the condo they rented off the beach awaiting their arrival since the property was already reserved. The owner, Eric, was more than accommodating allowing us to tie the dinghy to the private dock near the beach cottage, gave us access to a fresh water hose to full our jugs for the tank on the boat and even welcomed us to use coin operated laundry facility steps from the front door. Add in the comfy bed, hot shower and air conditioning, we were in heaven. To boot, the boat was anchored in a perfect spot for us to check on her swaying around as we sat and relaxed on the back deck.

After a great night sleep, we took a ride in Baby Belle under the Crab Cay Bridge and went to explore the ruins on the Cay and abandoned luxury resort project. It was surreal to see the construction supplies laying in neat piles along the road, as well as the infrastructure of what would have been the main building of the Resort and the surrounding landscape meticulously groomed. Whether it was politics, lack of money, or indifference, the situation was a tragedy. What could have brought much needed revenue to the island, now just sat rotting by the wayside. It was stifling on land so we headed back to the beach condo to cool off at the beach and rinse the layer of dust off.

Lisa and Jean’s flight was arriving late in the afternoon so we headed into town to get Jerk chicken from the local stand which was closed when we were there last. It was hot and dusty on the road and an older man who lived in the area took pity on us and drove us into town. Duane had been saying hitchhiking was a way of life on the islands and, after my first experience, my feet and sweaty brow were fine with putting my thumb out. It turned out the Jerk chicken stand was a three-in-one jackpot being attached to not only a Daiquiri Shack but a Conch and Seafood stand. Sampling each one to see what they had to offer, we definitely had to make a plan to revisit with our guests.

We were elated to see that Lisa and Jean had arrived when we got back from town. Once they unpacked, we all sat on the deck until the sun set chatting and catching up. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t seen them in almost six months. Duane more than made up for it by peppering them with stories of our travels some of which resulted in a few chuckles at my expense. Taking a few minutes from his re-enactments of boating life accompanied by the First Mate (me), the Captain fired up the barbecue and we had a lavish spread of steaks and ribs and toasted to their safe arrival and our continued safe travels. Watching the news for the first time in weeks, we heard reports of a possible pandemic, Covid-19, spreading around the world. At this point, we had received sporadic reports of an illness surfacing in the United States more contagious than the flu, but did not have an inkling as to the ultimate gravity of the situation.

Breaking out the kayaks in the morning, the four off us took off toward Crab Cay to see the sunken boats half submerged that had been long abandoned. It was a pleasant few hours paddling around under the blazing sun between the rocks and over the reefs. The Regatta Gala was that afternoon so we all boarded Bella Donna and took her across the Harbor for the event. Chat ‘N’ Chill was overflowing with revelers and contestants decked out in elaborate and comical costumes for the competition. Catherine and Chris were departing the next day for Long Island further South on their way to Grenada and it was great to have one last afternoon with them since we were uncertain when our paths will cross again. They are such an amazing couple always making us feel welcome and making the day a little brighter every time we see them ever since we first met back in Michigan. We wished them well on their travels and toasted to many more adventures on the horizon.

After a few rum punches, we boarded Bella Donna and went back across the Harbor anchoring near Bacchus Rock closer to town and the dingy dock. Safely ashore, we settled in at Island Boy for some drinks and Lisa wanted to try conch fritters. The waiter advised us they would be closing the kitchen shortly so we needed to locate another restaurant for dinner. Just by coincidence, we passed one of organizers of the Regatta events and she pointed us in the direction of Choppy Waters. There was a local Rake-and-Scrape band playing native Bahamian music and, although the menu was minimal, the food was delicious. It was late in the evening so we decided to lock the dinghy and leave it in town and take a cab back to the cottage to play a lively game of LCR. The next morning we were up bright and early to hitchhike into town to collect Baby Belle.

Right back in town that afternoon, we sat outside of Driftwood Cafe waiting for the BBQ buffet to start at the Piece and Plenty Hotel. Driftwood was a cute cafe with white washed tables on the inside and beachy picnic tables and umbrellas scattered about the outside courtyard. Flowers and shrubbery intermingled along the fence successfully walling off the street on the other side giving the space a true secluded and relaxing feel. It didn’t hurt that the pizza was super crispy and delectable. Each one of us wanted to sample all the delicacies at the BBQ that evening so we purchased our tickets for different main courses to share amongst the table. Good thing I was wearing a loose sundress.

After Jean cooked us breakfast, Duane suggested that he shuttle us back to Bella Donna and we go enjoy the afternoon on the sand bar off Piece and Plenty beach. Spending the day floating on the noodles with Strawberry Daiquiris in hand and collecting shells along the white sand beach, I wished there were a few more hours in the day. Jean had also purchased some focaccia from Driftwood waiting for Duane to pick them up so we had a delicious lunch on the back of the boat. That night we anchored the boat in Red Shanks to protect her from the gale force winds arriving the next day before having a barbecue and a rematch of LCR during which I gave up my previous winnings to Duane’s mom, Jean.

The winds had really stirred up the next day so we were glad to have had the opportunity to spend the last few days on the water with the two of them. That afternoon we took them to the three-in-one shacks and indulged on BBQ ribs, conch fritters and had a few painkillers to wash it all down. The view from Choppy Waters was spectacular so we planned to go back to enjoy the scenery one last time. On the walk over, we were stopped by a gentleman selling fresh breads out of his car…which was not unusual on the islands, so Jean purchased a few loaves still warm from the oven. Further down the street was the hair salon which also sold lobster and shrimp out of a cooler at the counter. Duane was able to get a much needed haircut and Jean purchased lobster tails for dinner all in one stop. We spent the rest of the afternoon and early evening on the top deck of Choppy Waters enjoying our last full day together and watched boats bounce around from the high winds which had kicked up. To round out the day, we made a quick stop to check out the palatial February Point and grab a drink at the Rusty Anchor overlooking the infinity pool. Tom, a gentleman renting the neighboring cottage, was nice enough to drive us back so we invited him over for dinner as a way to say Thank You. Jean whipped together a scrumptious pasta lobster Alfredo enjoyed by all. Sitting on the deck under the stars which lit up the sky, we were sad that their trip was coming to a close.

Their flight wasn’t until late the next afternoon so Tom was nice enough to drive us out toward the airport. We wanted to squeeze in as much quality time as we could and had a nice lunch on the water at Splash BBQ at the Hideaway Resort. We played some ping pong, Connect Four and soaked up the sun on the deck until the cab showed up to collect them and whisk them off to the airport. It was a great few days and it was disappointing to see them go as we waved goodbye and started to make our way back to Georgetown. Passing the Fish Fry shacks along the way, we grabbed a drink and meandered through the collection of establishments offering a wide range of authentic cuisines.

Once back at the cottage, we thanked Eric for his hospitality, packed up our things and filled the jugs with water one last time. The dinghy was weighed down and there were white caps on the water so Duane took a wet ride back to Bella Donna as I walked over the Crab Cay bridge to nowhere and made my way to the beach so he could pick me up once he unloaded. I was elated and so relieved to see Bella Donna safe and sound on the other side of the ridge when I descended from the road. We had been so nervous leaving her alone the last two days in the extremely high winds.

The winds continued to blow for the next 48 hours. Howling at a constant 25 knots, there were gale force gusts of 40+ at times and we heard reports of boats dragging and crashing into one another overnight. We made one last exploration of Crab Cay and had lunch at Driftwood before we moved the boat back to Stocking Island off the sandbar once the winds subsided two day later. The weather had cleared up enough for the closing ceremonies to be held and announce the Regatta winners. The races took place while we were tucked safely in Red Shanks so we could only hear the colorful commentary on the VHF the two days before as the sailors battled for the first place prize.

As we walked the beach, we bumped into Chris and Debi who were sailing on Believe. We had met them in Black Point at Lorraine’s Cafe BBQ. We invited them over to the boat that night to have some cocktails and see what they had been up to since we saw them a few weeks ago. We were having a great time when a tragic call came over the radio that a water taxi coming from Piece and Plenty had hit a couple on a dinghy just leaving dinner and that the man had perished. We couldn’t believe what we were hearing having just been in that area less than two hours ago. The water taxis were relentlessly running at high speeds around the anchorages… that is one reason we moved the boat across the Harbor when we first arrived. Duane had become frustrated with the early morning wakes and loud music as the taxis barreled through. This tragedy was definitely going to have repercussions and we could only pray for the people involved. To add to the horror of the occurrence, once the name of the boat was released, we realized that we had also met this couple at Black Point and sat next to them at dinner with Debi and Chris.

We had decided to leave in two days and head back North up the Exuma chain. Duane had a job scheduled so we planned to be in Florida and fly home at the end of the month. On the last day in Georgetown, Duane gave away some excess items we had no use for on the boat (which I think was good therapy for him), helped Chris fix his air conditioning and got us ready to motor on. Later in the afternoon, Chris and Debi picked us up to attend the first day of the Bahamian Music and Heritage Festival. Sampling local dishes, listening to the bands and enjoying a few rum punches, we had a thoroughly pleasant last afternoon. That evening the four of us hung out on the back of Bella Donna and the boys tried to launch a Chinese lantern. Not going quite as they had planned, the flaming object almost crashed into Baby Belle as it took a quick header into the water. Duane has never had any luck with the airborne sky lanterns, or flying kites for that matter, but I have come to accept that he will never stop trying until he succeeds.

We fell asleep to the sounds of the water slapping the hull and looked forward to moving on the next day back out onto the sparkling blue waters…plus we needed to pump the poop tank 😌

Maneuvering around rocks and shifting sand bars, we slowly made our way to Bell Island where we dropped anchor in the pristine turquoise waters to have lunch. Reading somewhere that the island was owned by Johnny Depp, we tried to come up with a plan to go ashore the private island without getting into a real life Pirates of the Caribbean situation. Not wanting to risk the outcome of trespassing, we observed what we could see (which was not much) of the property through our binoculars. Realizing the tide and the current had shifted, we decided to move the boat to O’Brien Cay which was extremely shallow but would provide all around protection from the swells. We were headed to snorkel “The Aquarium” off Soldier Cay not far away. Duane was super excited as we gathered our gear and motored over to the area. We tied Baby Belle off to a mooring ball which was perfectly situated so I didn’t have to expend too much effort swimming through the current and it also kept the dinghy close enough in case I needed a fast escape. What we saw below the water surface could easily rank as one of the greatest wonders of the world in our opinion. Majestic fish of all shapes, sizes and colors surrounded us…even what looked like little baby swordfish darted around. There were sea sponges growing intertwined with boundless coral formations and sea fans in purple and yellow hues were abundant. Nothing I have ever seen before could compare to what was before us and we were lost in the magnificence of it all so much so that I forgot all about the possibility of sharks. Fingers shriveled up like prunes, we reluctantly went back to the boat vowing to return on our way back through the area on the way home. Sad to say, our pictures do not do the marvel any justice. It was a pleasant calm evening and we were soon fast asleep not realizing at first how much the sun and the whole exhilarating experience had taken out of us.

The Cambridge Cay mooring field was full so we drove on out of the park and across the Conch Cut. In less than an hour, we were anchored off Compass Cay and found our way to the famed “Rachel’s Bubble Bath.” Trekking through the low lying area scattered with mangroves and rocks, we soon saw the spray in the distance marking the sight of our destination. The bubble bath was located at the northern end of the Cay just inside the Exuma Sound. When the surf from the ocean surge crashes over the gap in the rocks in the lower part of the formation, a foamy pool encompasses the tidal basin…hence simulating a bubble bath. We waded into the area and waited for the crash over the rocks…when it did come we were enveloped by the swirling foam and thrown back a few feet from the force. It was a great time and very refreshing as we picked our spot again and again to enjoy the warm bath splash over us. The optimal time to experience the full effects is at high tide on a windy day. So, today being mild and our timing on the tide a little off, it wasn’t perfect, but we definitely had an enjoyable afternoon.

Pulling anchor we continued on our way to Staniel Cay to hang out with the world famous swimming pigs. The timing of the tide again hindered us as the boat hit the sandy bottom as we rounded Sampson Cay. Aground, we dropped anchor and swam around waiting about two hours for the tide to rise as tour boats zipped back and forth to various islands loaded with visitors. Once we were on the move again, it wasn’t long before we found ourselves in Big Major’s Spot ready to make our acquaintance with the pigs. Grabbing a big bag of carrots and stale pretzels, we made our way to Pig Beach on Baby Belle. Getting closer I became a little wary as some pigs were the size of ponies and did not look so friendly as they chased down their visitors for food. Warned that the pigs would try and climb into the dinghy, we anchored Baby Belle safety in the distance, or so we thought, and swam toward shore with our treats. The first few minutes were calm as I tossed carrots to my first greeters, but soon it was sheer mayhem. As more pigs emerged onto the beach, they became aggressive and charged at us for more and more food. I began to haphazardly throw carrots in every direction in an effort to stop their approach, but one pig in particular would not settle down and chased me all the way back to the dinghy as I retreated, clawing me with his hooves as he swam. Duane found this hysterical as he took pictures of my terror. Finally able to make it back on shore, I decided to try again and, all was going well, when suddenly a mammoth of a pig with huge tusks grabbed my bag of food and ran off with it. Duane took off in pursuit as did the rest of the bigger pigs, but I was happy for the reprieve and went to pet the piglets. Unsuccessful in retrieving the food or the bag, he returned and, as we took a picture, one pig bit me and another snagged Duane’s bathing suit. Exhausted from constantly fending off the animals, who acted more like wild boars, we tossed the remaining carrots in their direction and swam as fast as we could to Baby Belle. Most were now distracted and torturing unsuspecting tourists just landing on the sand, but the super swimmer pig was in hot pursuit again and I barely escaped. Being late in the day and now high tide, we would not be able to snorkel Thunderball Grotto. Taking a quick ride to the grotto to at least see the underwater cave made famous by James Bond, we added it to our growing list of adventures to tackle on our way back through the Exumas on the way home to the States.

In the morning we went a mere ten miles to Black Point Settlement. It was a calm day so we decided to travel out on the Sound and avoid trying to work our way through the increasingly shallow waters. The winds over the course of the next three days were predicted to be 30 knots shifting to the West and we wanted a good area to hunker down and wait out the weather. Squeezing ourselves in just beyond the docks constructed to accommodate the future fuel station and the local fishing boats, we secured both anchors in the event squalls tore through the area.

Rockside Laundry has been praised by many as the premier laundromat in all of the Bahamas. The owner, Ida, kept the place spotless, ran the business efficiently, and was said to serve the best conch fritters. It’s funny how the idea of doing laundry could bring a smile to my face these days as the waterfront property had a spectacular view of the crystal clear waters. It was surreal to sit out on the deck listening to the waves as the smell of Downy wafted through the air. Not a bad trade off for clean clothes.

Garbage was collected in a trailer by the docks with a suggested donation to the town to be put in the lock box nearby once you threw your bags inside. As for water, an RO water spigot was located on the road toward the laundromat so, once the garbage was disposed of, Duane grabbed our jugs to fill while I tended to the laundry situation. There was an additional donation box as a Thank You payment for the water which benefited the school. Any child passing by on their bike made sure that fact was known to any visitor filling up their water receptacles.

Waiting for Ida to get back from serving the school children lunch and supply me with the tokens to run the washing machines, I loaded up the laundry and met Duane at DeShamon’s for some pizza and ice cold beer. Twenty minutes later, I walked across the street to the laundromat and was greeted by one of the women from the school who Ida sent back so I could begin the wash. Noticing a sign that they offered eight minute showers for $4, I purchased some tokens to surprise the Captain. Since the only hot water we have had as of late has been from the solar showers, this will be a treat. As the laundry was spinning, a small tour boat crammed with 10 twenty somethings from New Jersey pulled into the dock and made a bee line to the pizza restaurant. Duane was soon to be invaded by the drunk fist pumping crew wearing not so appropriate beach attire and I could feel the eye roll now as they interrupted his quiet afternoon.

Being on his third beer when I returned, Duane had befriended one of the Jersey Shore revelers and was not so bothered by the ensuing conversation. Laundry folded, we made our way back to Baby Belle and head to our anchorage to unload the clean clothes and our fresh water onto the boat so we could return for showers. On the walk back to the beach, the cat from the restaurant caught our eye and playfully escorted us back to the dinghy. Over the course of our stay on the island, he was always close under foot and we couldn’t resist giving him some love and attention.

Never a dull moment, we each dropped one of the tokens into the slot and pushed the button but not even a drop of water materialized from the pipes. With no one in the office, we radioed on the VHF requesting help working the contraption. In the end, it would have been nice to know that two tokens were required to start the water pumps. Were we supposed to share the eight minutes? As the woman sent to remedy our situation figured that fact out by adding the additional tokens, she pushed the button and stood in the room as the water came sputtering out and my precious minutes started ticking away. I almost shoved her out the door as I jumped under the hot water to begin my race against time and rinsing the conditioner out of my hair. It was a refreshing, yet stressful shower, but I was thankful none the less. Afterward we went for Happy Hour at Scorpio and had drinks with a sweet couple we met at the bar. Heading back to the boat, the winds had already picked up and it was an extremely wet ride…so much for that eight minute shower to rinse the salt off earlier. I will most assuredly be bailing out Baby Belle in the morning.

We bounced and rocked most of the night so we were ready to get on solid ground in the morning. Trying to board Baby Belle had to be strategically planned as the water was so turbulent throwing her around, we had to practically jump in head first. Arriving at the government dock safe, but sufficiently soggy, we walked to Emerald Sunset Grill for a nice lunch on the deck. It was a gorgeous sunny day and we were completely dry by the time we sat down for our meal. Afterward, we followed the trails to the Sound side of the island to get a view of the monstrous waves crashing onto the beach below and the Blow Hole spouting high in the air.

Lorraine’s Cafe was having a buffet dinner that evening which we had reservations for and, making our way back to the harbor, we stopped next door at her mother’s house for some homemade coconut raisin bread. Momma’s bread was the talk of all the Exumas and the aroma coming from her kitchen as she led us to the selection of breads fresh out of the oven, had my mouth watering. There were plenty of cruisers at the cafe when we arrived. Introducing ourselves, we were invited to dine with a group of sailboaters who had been traveling together for the last few weeks. They were a personable group and shared pictures and stories with us as we reciprocated with tales from our journey. After a great evening, and stuffing ourselves with fresh fish, BBQ chicken, homemade Mac and Cheese pie, tender pork ribs and Bahamian rice, we set out on the laborious task of getting back to the boat. The winds had not subsided and we could see white caps rolling in. Descending the steps from the dock carefully as Duane tried to steady Baby Belle, I sat down, put on my life jacket and readied myself for the wet rough ride across the bay. Wet was an understatement….drenched is a more appropriate word to describe our condition once we arrived home.

The weather had improved significantly by the next day and we were able to get ashore and not require towels to dry ourselves or ring out our clothes. Planning to depart the next morning, we refilled our water jugs, left our donation and collected sea glass along the beach. Duane was obsessed with gathering as much sea glass as possible and proceeded to fill two buckets he secretly brought to shore with us. Some pieces looked like mere broken bottles to me, but he did not discriminate in his collection calling them “unique.”

Before stopping into the Sunset Grill to actually see the sunset, we walked the road through town observing the kids in the playground, women tending to gardens, and eventually came upon a house with a puppy sitting outside. Domino, as we came to know was his name, started to follow us on our walk and, even with our pleading, would not go back home. Ultimately, we had to walk back to his house and knock on the door to alert the owners of his wandering. A woman, who most likely was preparing dinner, appeared at the door with three little children peering from behind her and reassured us not to worry saying Domino will return home shortly when he was hungry. And with that we were on our way with Domino in tow….and sure enough about twenty minutes later, Domino abruptly turned around and ran as fast as his little legs could take him toward home. Sunset that evening from atop the gazebo over the water was spectacular and we were grateful for the time we had spent in Black Point over the last few days.

The next day was calm and, as the sun glistened off the water, we made our way through the Bank. It was a hot day and, with no breeze, we looked forward to anchoring and jumping in the sea of turquoise. Passing by Musha Cay, the 700 acre private island owned by David Copperfield, we marveled at the sprawling ultra-exclusive, $300,000 a week resort estate scattered about the landscape. Dropping the hook in early afternoon a little further in the distance by Rudder Cut Cay, also owned by the magician, we swam around and watched the day pass before us with no urgency to do much more. The next morning we were on a mission to snorkel the life size grand piano and sculpture of the admiring mermaid submerged by the illusionist off the beach of Rudder Cut Cay. Located in 15 feet of water, the stainless steel work of art, was an interesting outing. Duane was able to hold his breath and dive down to sit on the piano bench to get the full effect of the experience. I, on the other hand, enjoyed my view from above, as we have both come to accept my lack of diving skills.

We had been in constant touch with our friends, Molly and Bill, on Salty Paws over the few weeks since we last saw them and, by chance and good luck, we were now only a few miles apart. After exploring a few caves carved out of the rocks after thousands of years of exposure to the elements, we pulled anchor and went to meet up with them for dinner in Prime Cay. Being very shallow and low tide, we were forced to make the short trip out on the Exuma Sound. Needless to say, conditions were far from favorable as over the next hour and a half we rocked, rolled and banged all the way into the Prime Cay cut. By the time we settled down (and gathered stray sunglasses) and they arrived on our boat, I was more than ready to indulge in the Rum punches Molly had whipped up. We had the most enjoyable evening catching up with our old friends which made the decision to make our way through the rough waters worth it. The next morning, they drove by to say farewell as Salty Paws was heading North to cross over to Eleuthera and our ultimate destination was Georgetown on Great Exuma further South.

Our last stop before Georgetown was by the Captain’s request off William Cay near Lee Stocking Island. I needed to provide my bow lookout services this day as the blue waters were increasingly more shallow and I had no desire to travel out on the Sound unless absolutely necessary. Passing Leaf Cay we watched as the tourists feed the Iguanas and we were soon anchored off the white sand of the Twin Beaches. There were about 12 other boats around us and we set both anchors as we often do now as an extra precaution against the sudden changes in the weather and water temperament.

Exploring the Twin Beaches, we made our way to the top of the cliff overlooking a cavernous space where the crashing waves echoed. Arriving back to the shore, we directed Baby Belle further North making a beeline toward the ultimate destination the Captain had been anticipating. Securing her next to two other dinghies, I was relieved we were not the only ones about to wander through the brush to explore an abandoned Marine Research facility. Along the mile and a half hike we came in contact with the other boaters who were on their way back from seeing the dilapidated compound. Though they said it was interesting, being it was now later in the day, we needed to step up the pace as the mosquitoes would soon be out in full force and I did not want to be trying to find our way off the creepy island after dark.

I am sometimes at a loss for words describing the beauty of the world we are newly discovering, but this place the Captain insisted on exploring was the antithesis of all that. Some buildings were left stuck in time as if someone planned to return, but never did, with open books and research manuals littering dusty desks. Broken light fixtures hung from ceilings and walls were crumbling down in almost every structure we entered. Chills ran down my spine when we emerged into what had to be the research lab seeing murky fish tanks and test tubes and chalkboards filled with scientific formulas and notes. Duane was enthralled by the whole idea of what had transpired here years ago and, I should have known, was eyeing anything he saw laying around for its potentially usefulness. Emerging from behind a shed with a piece of tubing which he explained he could use to get the water out of the bilge, I cringed at the idea of what had previously flowed through the encasing. Finally arriving at the end of the line of buildings, we hurried toward the abandoned air strip and through the thick brush leading toward Baby Belle as mosquitoes buzzed around my head. Well, not before the Captain stopped one last time to collect a glass buoy which he said would be the perfect souvenir. Making sure he scrubbed his “treasures” thoroughly before they were allowed on the boat was my only prerequisite.

A nasty squall blew through at 5am and, as it shifted us precariously close to the rocks, we went out into the pouring rain in the dark to reset the second anchor and pull us further away. When I say we, I should say I, as the Captain was directing me from the dry confines of the flybridge as I was being pelted with rain on the bow trying to wrangle the anchor and not be thrown overboard as we bucked up and down. The sun was soon up and the rain subsided, and not being able to get back to sleep, we left around 7am to exit the cut onto the Sound plotting a course to Georgetown. We were excited to see old friends already there and also to welcome Duane’s mom, Jean, and sister, Lisa, who were coming to visit us during part of the two weeks we planned to stay in the town.

As another gorgeous sunrise materialized around us, we were soon ready to pull anchor and cross over to the Exumas. Following eight sailboats through the Porgee Rocks we were soon traversing the Yellow Bank. The Bank was a relatively shallow expanse of water about 30 miles wide stretching to Northern Exuma and was a land mine of potentially destructive coral heads. We had timed the crossing perfectly as the sun was high in the sky aiding us visually and I stood post on the bow pulpit scanning the waters for any hazards. We anchored off Allen Cay by early afternoon and were excited to enjoy the tranquil beauty for the rest of the day. After scanning for sharks, we jumped into the refreshing crystal blue water to cool off. The current was extremely strong through the Cay so I held onto a rope tied to the back of the boat to avoid being swept away as the Captain grabbed his flippers and swam around.

Once Iguana Beach was clear of all the tour boats, we jumped in Baby Belle with our bag of grapes setting off to feed the inhabitants scurrying around the sand. At first the iguanas were timid and inched closer to our outstretched sticks topped off with the grapes very slowly. But, once the first animal scored his treat, they all came fast and furious. There had to be 50 iguanas at one point on the beach trying to creep up on us and snag the grapes. It was a little unnerving and exhilarating at the same time watching them suddenly jump for the stick and then quickly waddle away with the grape clasped tightly in their jaws. The bag of grapes was devoured before we knew it so we took our leave back to the boat before there was a mutiny. Watching from the water, the iguanas were soon back to lounging under the cover of the palm trees.

That night was crystal clear and we opened a bottle of wine to relax on the bow and marvel at the sky illuminated with thousands and thousands of stars. Once the current shifted, the water rocked us a little uncomfortably but not unbearably for the rest of the night. We were starting to get used to the tide and current shifts and now plan our anchorages accordingly as to avoid more sleepless nights.

Continuing further South the next day, we decided to stop at Norman’s Cay. The drug cartel had used the island as its headquarters and for drug smuggling into the US in the late 70’s and early 80’s…or so the story goes. Duane was anxious to snorkel the sunken plane wreck in the shallow Norman’s Cay cut. There was speculation that the plane had been owned by reputed drug lord, Pablo Escobar, and crashed when overloaded with kilos of cocaine, but, according to locals, the background of the crash was less spectacular and scandalous— just a drunk pilot misjudging the runway. Either way, we took Baby Belle to the area to snorkel the mangled metal and swim among the tropical fish that called it their home.

On the way back to the anchorage, we explored some of the lush mangroves and stopped by the deserted beach bar. Told the bar opened at 5pm, we patiently waited…but when no one arrived by 5:30, we left. Island time for sure!

Shroud Cay was only a few miles away and was our next destination. Shroud was an uninhabited island and part of the Exuma Land and Sea Park. The 176 square mile park was established to preserve and maintain the delicate ecological balance of marine life in the Bahamas. Being a “no take zone,” fishing, conching and even gathering shells is prohibited.

Along the trip we happened upon mega yacht after mega yacht trolling through the pristine waters. Shroud was breathtaking …surrounded by sand bores and prominent rock formations making for an unforgettable landscape. Baby Belle was getting a workout these days and, starting her up, we headed off to explore the nature preserve and marine nursery surrounded by mangroves and littered with giant sea turtles frolicking in the shallow waters. At the end of the winding creek, we pulled the dinghy onto a beautiful white sand beach. The ocean crashed on the shore and we swam out to the sandbar to absorb the full effect of the unparalleled beauty of the turquoise waters.

After a refreshing swim, we hiked up the hillside to Camp Driftwood. The area was nothing more than a clearing from where you were able to view the vast expanse of the ocean from one side and the blue waters of the Bank on the other. It was a hot day and not wanting to get attacked by mosquitoes, we quickly descended back to the sand for a few more minutes in the water before we headed back along Sanctuary Creek. After lunch, we headed to the fresh water well which was allegedly located on a path on the far side of the creek. GPS in hand, we climbed through the brush and low hanging branches toward the documented spot. Finally seeing the well in the distance, Duane lowered the bucket into the depths and came up with a pail full of orange murky water. It was definitely a disappointment after trekking all the way over there.

The winds were picking up the next day, but we felt that we would be protected on the shallow waters of the Bank from anything extreme. Boy were we wrong. As the winds whipped over 20 knots we were battered and rocked all the way to Warderick Wells, headquarters of the Land and Sea Park. I had prematurely stored my seasick bands once we crossed the Tongue, but I quickly retrieved them as we went through the relentless spin cycle.

Thankful in the warm climate that an unpleasant confrontation with the wayward socks was not going to be a possibility, I almost regularly had to deal with the medley of sunglasses which did not make the morning cut and now ended up strewn about the whole boat after we were tossed about for hours. As do the socks, they too have a comfortable bin to travel in, but never quite make it back inside after the fashion show concludes and they are cast aside for the day.

The Emerald Bay mooring field was the closest in the direction we were heading, so I called ahead for a ball assignment as I had paid for the reservation on the Park’s online website already. Hooking up to the ball without incident, we took the dinghy to check in at the Park office. Once registered, we went to hike up to Boo Boo Hill. It has been a long standing tradition for boaters passing through the island to leave a momento on top of the hill which was the highest point of the Cay as an offering to Neptune and all the sailors lost at sea. I had found a piece of driftwood while we were on Andros Island on which Duane burnt the boat’s name which was going to be our offering. The geography of the area up to the hill was breathtaking. Duane tried his hand at the musical rocks and we skipped stones across the creeks snaking out from the mangroves. While we were enjoying the scenery of the unparalleled terrain shaped by nature from atop the hill and marveling at the thousands of driftwood signs left behind, we realized we had cell service for the first time in days. Checking in with family and friends, we also caught up on the news and didn’t feel so detached from the rest of the world as we obviously were.

We were thoroughly exhausted when we arrived back to the boat just before sunset. It was a glorious day and an even more wonderful evening as the water lapped the side of the boat as we enjoyed some wine in the calm serenity of our island oasis. Over the last few days, we finally felt like we had found the Bahamas we had been searching for.

Comparatively speaking, the conditions were much more favorable than the attempted exodus four days prior in the “flight from the cockroach.” Realistically speaking, the wind was blowing a sustained 15 knots and 3-4 foot seas rolled us around relentlessly for the next five hours making for an extremely rough ride further into the heart of the Bahamas. Halfway through the trip we came down particularly hard and one of the steel bolts on the radar arch snapped completely in half…a consequence of the constant beatings we have endured. Too scared to throw up as the arch banged against the side of the fly bridge, I grabbed the wheel to steady the boat as Duane climbed on the side to secure the detached portion with ropes before the whole arch, solar panels and all, came crashing down around us. That would sure have been a tragedy of epic proportions.

We were both more than ready to anchor in West Bay outside of New Providence as the sun hung low in the sky later in the day. Exhausted, we enjoyed a glass of wine and a beautiful sunset among 30 other boats swaying in the wind off of the beach–the sight of our next adventure.

Pulling anchor early the next morning, we were excited to enter the harbor and explore Nassau. We were also a little nervous about all the stories we have heard about crime running rampant on the docks. We had steel locks for pretty much everything that could be carried away and a security camera for added peace of mind while we ventured into town. It was protocol to radio the harbor and request permission to enter, so after doing just that, we were given clearance to proceed. As we turned passed the breakwater, seven cruise ships at dock came into view. Each was the size of a small city and we cringed imagining the throngs of people on the island who had disembarked from these vessels this morning. After filling the tank with gas, we made our way to the Nassau Harbor Marina where we had a slip for the next two days.

After getting situated, our first stop was to Potter’s Cay for lunch. Located under the bridge which led to Atlantis, the area was comprised of little shacks lined up one after the other serving a variety of local cuisine. As we walked by surveying our options, each proprietor tried to entice us into choosing their establishment by shouting out drink specials and specialty dishes as we walked passed. We settled for the shack at the end mainly because it was away from the crowds, but also so we had a view of the fishing boats and watched as they made their way in and out of the docks with their daily catch. It was a perfect choice all around as the meal of shrimp, pork and rice and beans was absolutely delicious.

After lunch and some people watching, we walked the area admiring some of the colonial architecture and took a stroll on the beach. Back toward the marina, we picked up some provisions in Fresh Market and had a drink overlooking the harbor before calling it a day. The tide was dead low upon our return and Duane had to tie a rope to the ladder in order for me to climb back aboard. If not, I would have been sleeping on the lounge chair by the pool. The price of being short I guess.

After spending the morning cleaning the interior and exterior of the boat and tackling the laundry, we walked over the bridge toward Atlantis. Located on Paradise Island, Atlantis was a premier resort with lush gardens, a spectacular water park, beach front property, an over the top aquarium, marine habitats, a renowned gold course on the ocean as well as a sprawling casino and virtually anything one can dream of to enjoy a fabulous vacation in the lap of luxury. We were enthralled by every inch of the magnificent property and after touring Marina Village decided we would treat ourselves to a night at the marina amongst the millionaires and their yachts on our trip back to the States. Grabbing a frozen drink, we worked our way around one of the 14 lagoons which were home to more than 50,000 aquatic animals. As some areas were accessible to guests only, I looked forward to returning to the water park in a few weeks and zipping down the slides on a hot day like this one.

Under the bridge we stopped into Anthony’s for Happy Hour and then grabbed dinner at Margaritaville. Sitting at the bar we had a fun night enjoying the beachy atmosphere, a live band and the beautiful weather. It was late in the evening when we rose to leave so the bartender called us a cab as it was not wise to walk around this area after dark.

Not in any rush the next morning as we were only going to anchor off Rose Island less than seven miles away, we filed the tanks with water, showered and had lunch. Captain Duane was in the engine room displeased with one of the “children” so I made myself scarce as he pleaded with the culprit to behave.

Rose Island is a private island surrounded by turquoise waters and coral reefs. A popular snorkeling area, in spite of the bull sharks which inhabit the waters, the tour boats motored in and out all day dropping people into the water. After watching for predators for almost an hour, Duane convinced me to jump in and wade around the boat with my snorkel gear. The underwater view was amazing but I was a little preoccupied with the notion of a shark barreling toward me to stay under water for any length of time. Duane didn’t help matters when he decided to grab my leg from behind and scared me half to death.

We decided to have a little booze cruise Happy Hour once the tour boats left heading back to the cruise ships and took Baby Belle to Sandy Cay. This was the epitome of what we envisioned for our Bahama experience…crystal blue waters, breathtaking sunsets and secluded beaches.

We threw off the lines a little after 7 the next morning and followed four other boats out of the harbor passed Triangle Rocks through the Gun Cay Cut and emerged out onto the Great Bahama Bank. It was a calm day with light winds and the water glistened in spectacular shades of blue as we glided along. The Bank was a particularly shallow body of water and the brilliant colors were the result of light reflecting off the sand and coral on the bottom.

We were trying to get as close to the Tongue of the Ocean, where the depth dropped thousands of feet, by dark and anchor on the Bank for the evening. Around 1pm we approached Mackie Shoal and decided to have lunch. The water was like glass so I took my sandwich to the bow and soaked in the sun and enjoyed the sounds of the water rippling below us. As the sun began to set we charted a course to the Northwest Shoal and dropped anchor just as the sky was turning a burnt orange color. At first it was a little disconcerting anchoring in an area as vast as the ocean with no land in sight, but we were well out of the channel and had every light on illuminating our position, so I was able to relax a little. Well…except for the occasional thought of pirates which the Captain assured me was nonsense.

After a few glasses of wine we were ready to turn in for the evening, but, not letting wanting us to get too comfortable, the wind picked up around 10pm and the water began to crash against the hull like a sledgehammer. I was not as terrified as I had been the previous week, but it was going to be another sleepless Monday as I gathered our pillows and blankets setting up our campsite in the salon where the noise was not as pronounced.

Calming somewhat in the morning, we moved on toward the Tongue and decided to go south to Andros Island. Andros was the largest island in the Bahamas, but by contrast to most other inhabited areas, the least developed or visited. The trip through the Tongue proved to be as rocky and rolly as our days back on Lake Michigan with the current more favorable temperature being the only exception. We had read about an old superstition that making a sacrifice in the Tongue would guarantee safe passage. Figuring it couldn’t hurt, just like crossing the Gulf Stream, the Captain tossed in part of the anchor chain which, as I think I mentioned before, had been removed before we left home and had been riding with us all these months. As we watched the chain sink, he uttered a saying -“You can take a piece of us, but you can not claim all of us.” When the waves shifted to directly on the bow and we banged continuously up and down for what seemed like hours, we doubted the water gods had ample time to process our gift and Duane picked up speed in an effort to end the uncomfortable ride sooner than later.

Arriving in Morgan’s Bluff before 11am, we pulled into the harbor area and right off noticed we would be roughing it. We were told that we were permitted to tie off against the rocky wall next to the local bar that looked virtually abandoned or, as the Harbormaster offered, we could tie up to one of the local fishing boats which, from our vantage point, did not look very operational. Both options would cost us a mere $7 and change and, as the rocky wall did not look so forgiving, we opted to see if the locals minded if we tied up alongside them. Without hesitation a few fishermen ran to the port side of their boat and took our lines welcoming us with open arms. We thanked them for their hospitality with a few cold drinks. A little uneasy about our accommodations, we decided, for better or for worse, this will be home for a few days as we waited for the weather to calm.

Removing the bikes from the bow, we had to lug them across the fishing boat to the parking lot— our view on the port side…good thing the curtains will be closed anyway. Climbing across fish chests and coolers, we eyed the rusty water spout in the grass which we would be filling our jugs from to transfer to the tank onboard. On the far side of the lot were a few dilapidated cabins which at one time provided shower facilities, but were now in complete shambles with collapsed ceilings and broken pipes. Taking off down the dusty road what we noticed first off, just like in Bimini, were abandoned projects half completed all along the stretch and garbage littering the beautiful landscape of the island. It was truly disheartening.

Three and a half miles down the road we stumbled upon Driftwood BBQ and Seafood. My stomach was growling by this point and both of us were parched from the ride under the hot sun. Reclaimed wood furniture adorned the outdoor setting of the restaurant in vibrant colors. The aroma coming from the back deck on the barbecue had our mouths watering. Bringing us two ice cold Kaliks, we soon learned that our server, Vashi, owned the restaurant with her husband, Craig, the chef, and only opened a few days earlier after extensive renovations. The pair had gathered trees, driftwood (hence the name), shells, and anything that washed up on shore, even an old row boat, and took to the laborious task of constructing this unique outdoor cafe. Soon we were indulging ourselves on pulled pork and BBQ ribs that were super tender and delicious. We were further treated to scrumptious homemade side dishes making the sweaty bike ride worth it. Craig came out to introduce himself after the meal as we gave him high praises for everything we had just devoured. Chatting with the couple over another cold beer, Craig explained he was a US Ex-patriot who met Vashi, a local, while he was stationed on the island years ago, and decided to settle down and make a life here. Theirs was a touching story and after telling us some tales of the captivating island they called home, they directed us to a few must-see sights we had to explore while we were visiting.

After biking back to the harbor, we became a little more acquainted with our new neighbors who proved to be a very eclectic group. The Captain of the fishing boat was very personable and was curious about our trip thus far through the States. His crew ranged from a hyper Haitian, who spoke so fast in an unfamiliar slang that I only understood a few words, to a few polite younger men who nodded and drank beer most of the afternoon, to a local who yelled and cursed most of the time at or to nobody in particular. Assured that they were all harmless, we retreated to the confines of the cabin and I locked us in for the evening.

The next morning we were awakened by the commotion as one of the local boats was going out for some conch. We decided to lower the dinghy and take Baby Belle to the beach for the afternoon to gather shells, climb the rocks along the reef and try our hand at fishing. It was a beautiful relaxing day and we relished the serenity of our little oasis. Back at the boat I took a water conscious shower which we discussed was going to be the norm going forward since water may not be so readily available in future destinations. Sufficiently refreshed, we were deciding on dinner as we watched the resident manatee and her baby swim around, when there was suddenly a horn honking in the parking lot. Peaking out from behind the curtains there was a gentleman standing on the edge of the wall waving to us. We soon came to find out that his name was Norm and he too was an Ex-patriot living on the island with his wife Karen. Norm was friends with Craig and Vashi who had told him we were in the harbor visiting the island for a few days. Inviting us to dinner at a local restaurant in town named Bubu’s, we jumped at the chance to see more of what the island had to offer that our bikes couldn’t take us to. The restaurant was a small establishment with two tables, but no one was inside so we were soon being served rum punches and waiting on our burgers. Norm and Karen were from the Midwest and decided to move to the island years ago to live a simpler life. Before dropping us back at the boat, Norm drove us to Driftwood to have a nightcap and say Hello to Craig and Vashi. We had a great evening and were so happy to have had the pleasure of all of their company.

At 2am the harbor lit up under the spotlight of the cargo ship dropping the weekly supplies off from Nassau. The ship was so close to us maneuvering into position, I could have touched the side and there was nothing we could do to ward off the close encounter with this floating mass of metal that was ten times our size. Duane stepped outside to assess the situation and a voice from the shadows asked if he could go on land and catch the line to secure the ship. Reluctantly, he obliged, and I watched in fear that the huge monkey fist being hurled his way with the rope attached would knock him out. All went smoothly and we were soon back in bed trying to drown out the noise of the trucks unloading the cargo. Then at 6:45 there was a loud knock on the boat and we could not fathom what was going on now. Emerging from the cabin, we saw a man claiming his name was William sitting on the side of our boat. He noticed the gas tanks strapped to the swim platform and asked if we could spare a gallon to get his car started. He needed to get home to collect his belongings in order the make it back in time to catch the cargo ship which was heading back to Nassau once it was unloaded. William promised to reciprocate our generosity with fresh fruit and veggies upon his return with the gas can so Duane handed over “Joe Blo” and off William went. Returning soon enough with the promised tomatoes, papaya, peppers and lettuce, we expected the empty gas can and would call it even. Instead, William proceeded to ask us for some money in exchange for the food saying anything we could spare would be appreciated. Being caught off guard, we gave him ten dollars at which he asked for ten more and proceeded to explain that he needed the cash to purchase more gas to still get himself home. Uncomfortable as to where these fresh goods came from as we were now skeptical that he even owned a farm, we gave him the extra money to move him along. In the end we never saw him or “Joe Blo” again and found out a few days later that he was arrested carrying drugs to Nassau on the cargo ship he was rushing to catch. The fishing boat Captain shook his head as we explained the story later in the week and muttered something about Karma.

As for the cargo ship, the crew diligently worked all night and through most of the next day as crates of fruits, veggies and food as wells as cars and various equipment were unloaded and set up in sections in the parking lot. Soon after, people busied around claiming their property and hurried on their way. It was a whole different way of life on the island.

The sun was blazing hot, but we biked our way up to Henry Morgan’s Cave. Stories of treasure buried in the cave may be folklore, but it was exciting to climb inside the cool confines of the rocks and take a look around…and pray the bats stayed asleep. A little up the road was Morgan’s Bluff. We climbed up the rocks to the top overlooking the vast expanse of the water as the waves crashed below. There was a makeshift cross at the tip which we assumed was a symbol to honor all those lost at sea.

Norm had emailed us that he had set up a get together at Driftwood later in the day and would be by to pick us up around 5:30. There were a few other boats anchored in the outer harbor so we took the dinghy over to invite them, but none seemed too interested. The gathering was with about ten other Americans and Canadians who resided on the island…some year round and others just lived there in the winter months. Each of their stories was more intriguing than the next ranging from tales of hurricane destruction and survival, to failed marriages and even some of promising business opportunities. In turn, they were equally intrigued by our tale of having left home on our 35 ft boat thousands of miles and over 6 months ago.

Biking the next afternoon to F&H Takeaway for lunch, we happened upon the small shack with chicken wire across the windows. Walking through the broken front door we were greeted by an older woman who was watching a gospel sermon on a small television. Embarrassed to walk out, we ordered two conch burgers and tried to stay cool. The meal was simple but tasty and I was able to have French fries so there were no complaints from me. The winds since we arrived had been terrible so we went up to the Bluff to see how the seas looked. The water was still unsettled, but not as volatile as they had been the other day. Duane was seriously contemplating moving on in the morning. I just rolled my eyes at the suggestion as I felt myself getting seasick at the mere thought of being out in those waters.

The fishermen had returned and were cleaning their catch at the docks when we returned. The Captain told us to come aboard and sold us fresh fish and threw in some conch as a bonus. After seasoning the fish that evening, Duane went outside to heat up the barbecue. That’s when I saw it…..a cockroach!!! We had seen the creature running around on the fishing boat, but it was a whole other story now that it had made its way over scurrying along our transom. I’ve never seen Duane move so fast as he grabbed the bug with a rag and threw both clear away from the boat. With that creepy encounter, I was more than ready to brave the waters and move on in the morning.

By now we had deduced that two of the crew lived on the derelict fishing boats and, seeing us preparing to depart, helped us untie the next morning wishing us safe travels. Looking back now, the cockroach probably tainted my better judgement and we were soon battling 4-6 foot seas. 3 miles out we hit a wave so hard it felt like we rammed a brick wall and the bow was buried under the water for what seemed like an eternity. Without hesitation or pleading from me, the Captain spun the boat around in the turbulent conditions and we retreated back to the harbor. Instead of motoring back to the fishing boat, we anchored in the outer harbor for the night to lick our wounds. My terrified tolerance for rough conditions had definitely gone up in the last few months, but not that much.

It was a bumpy night and the winds were picking up, so we dejectedly idled back inside in the morning and waved to our friends. Tying us back up, the fishing boat Captain called out saying he was wondering when we would be back. Not missing a beat as he chopped the head off of a fish, he shook his head and said not even the crazy locals would attempt to go out in those conditions.

Giving Norm a call to let him know of our failed departure attempt, he picked us up for lunch and, later in the evening when the thunderstorms hit, came by with Karen to collect us and take us back to their house for movie and popcorn night. It was a pleasant reprieve to sit on a couch that was not rocking back and forth for one evening. Finding out we had not taken hot showers in some time, even though I personally counted the solar shower as a luxury, they offered for us to come back the following day to remedy that situation and, to boot…do some much needed laundry. The idea of clean towels and more than a five minute shower made my night…actually my whole week.

Getting stir crazy in our current location, we decided to rent a car the next day and drive south to Fresh Creek. Passing the small airport, we were soon at Brigadiers which Norm suggested we head to for lunch. It was virtually empty as the winds were whipping outside and we tried to find a table with come protection that still had a view of the sparkling blue water. After lunch, we walked along the beach and then made our way to the Androsia Batik factory to have a tour. The factory was nothing elaborate and rather primitive as we were lead to the three distinct areas that ultimately collaborated to produce the garments. The first shack housed the rubber stamps which were dipped in wax by hand and then pressed onto the fabric. The next area housed big vats of dye for the color. Once procured, the fabrics were taken to the sewing room where three women were sitting at sewing machines following patterns making the various articles of clothing. It was very interesting to see the mechanics of the process played out in front of us and I scored myself a cute blue skirt on the way out.

Before we headed back to the Bluff, we went to take a gander at Captain Bill’s Blue Hole. We had been hearing about these blue holes since we arrived and wanted to see what they were all about. This one in particular was said to be the largest watering hole on the island at about 100 feet deep and 440 feet in diameter and described as a mysterious labyrinth of underwater caves and cavities beneath the surface. There was a diving tour proceeding to the hole when we arrived and the entrance looked a little sketchy, so we admired the impressive natural wonder from the cliff.

Showers that evening were much appreciated and we were able to say farewell to Norm and Karen, as well as a few others we had met earlier in the week, who were having drinks in their backyard when we arrived. We were so fortunate to have been introduced to so many wonderful people on our trip to the island making it feel less like we were being held captive by Mother Nature.

Today was the day! The winds had calmed and the seas had settled enough for us to make the 50 or so mile trip to New Providence. We hurried in the morning to return the car and along the way made stops at the Andros Water Factory to purchase some drinking water and to Captain Charlie’s Blue Hole which was scary and murky and not as inviting as the Blue Hole in the park. Turning in our keys, I went to the small store to purchase some homemade red velvet cake for the trip this afternoon as we waited for our ride back to the harbor. To our surprise, Craig and Vashi were shopping for some vegetables so we were able to say Goodbye and wish them well.

Here we go again…we got the thumbs up from our local fishing Captain and off we went. This time there’s no turning back 😃

Having left the Haulover inlet in Miami around 10am we significantly underestimated the force of the Gulf Stream as it slowed us down to a mere 5.5 mph. To compound the timing issue, a few hours into the trip, the wind had picked up significantly and we were facing beam seas knocking us back and forth like a pendulum. Inching closer to our destination, Duane realized we would not be able to make safe passage into the harbor before dark, so we must anchor for the night off the beach and go inside the channel in the morning when we would be able to visually see the shifting sandbars and coral heads.

The mayhem that ensued the next twelve hours was borderline unbearable. Strapping himself into his life jacket and securing his head lamp, Duane left me at the helm in the pitch dark to drop two anchors and hopefully secure us for the night. I fought with the steering wheel to keep the boat in place as waves crashed over and over and Duane tried to steady himself. Once he was confident the anchors had set, we both sat on the couch and waited out the wrath. We were assaulted relentlessly the whole night as the boat pitched back and forth violently and bucked up and down. There seemed no end to the onslaught of wind and waves battering us and I just prayed morning would come soon and that our home would stay intact through this unimaginable beating.

Neither one of us slept a wink and most of the night passed with an uncomfortable silence as each excruciating sound of the boat being assaulted turned my stomach and made me cringe. Once the sun rose, it took a while for the waves to subside enough so we could pull the anchors and move into the safety of the harbor. We emerged from our confines to a beautiful sunny morning and grateful we were still afloat. Going out to hoist the anchors, Duane was astonished and dismayed that the force of the incessant waves tore the steel pall locking the wheel of the windlass clear off the anchor mount. He was now deeply concerned that once the anchor was raised we would not be able to drop it again.

Now having a visual aid to navigation, we were able to snake our way inside and tie up in a slip at Big Game Marina in Alicetown. Once the boat was in place, Duane went to clear customs and I cleaned the cabin which had been turned upside down the night before as I helplessly watched from the couch- the only thing that hadn’t been tossed around. Upon his return, he immediately noticed something was amiss. In addition to the anchor damage, the two trim tabs on the stern had been completely ripped off and were now just flapping back and forth against the hull of the boat. Not wanting the metal tabs to puncture a hole in the fiberglass, Duane grabbed some wire and attempted to strap them up. Here came problem number two…bull sharks! As he climbed onto the swim platform ready to wade into the water, a fisherman warned us of the sharks that inhabited the marina and, no sooner had he uttered those fateful words, we saw three sharks circling the boat. We had to come up with a better plan as not to lose life or limb. As a temporary fix, Duane decided to tie up the tabs with string as I held the boot hook to ward off any sharks that may pounce while his hands were in the water. More than one person warned him to watch his fingers, but thankfully, everything went off without a hitch and he still had all ten digits when the task was completed.

To add to my already frayed nerves, I now had to watch my step getting onto and off the dock for fear of what lurked beneath waiting for any misstep. A drink was definitely in order…

Once we paid the Harbormaster and requested a map of the area, we took off on foot toward Baileytown. Our first stop was the BTC store to purchase a sim card and international data plan and the second stop was at Joe’s Conch shack for some ice cold Kalik and fresh conch salad. Both hit the spot and we finally started to decompress.

Bimini was definitely not what we expected. It was more rundown and desolate than any accounts we had read about. Locals pointed at Hurricane Matthew, which passed through the area a few years go, as the culprit for the lagging economy, abandoned buildings and basic poverty of the people. The powers that be assured the residents that the newly opened high-end Hilton Resorts World Bimini Marina would breathe life back into the economy. In contrast, the locals we spoke with feared it would have the opposite results and basically suffocate them.

The weather the next week was not shaping up to be pleasant at all so we made plans to stick around for the time being. Floating around in the pool at the marina, the night before became a distant memory and I was finally relaxing. Leisurely walking the area later that afternoon, at the direction of one of the fisherman, we happened upon Nate’s and purchased some famous Bimini bread. As dusk approached, we made our way to the island beach shack, CJ’s, for shrimp and conch burgers. Scoring a seat on the patio with a lovely couple visiting from the States, they offered to take us on their golf cart for a quick tour of the island. Being only 7 miles long we made it from the cemetery on one end to the land development beyond the Hilton marina in no time.

In the morning we decided to unstrap the bikes from the bow and ride along King’s Highway to Paradise Island to gather some sea glass which was supposed to be abundant in the area. The bikes were very temperamental after being battered with salt water for weeks and I basically had no brakes as we traveled along the windy narrow roads. Grossly misinformed in regard to the sea glass, we headed back to the boat hot and sweaty with only five small pieces in our pocket. But, as a pleasant surprise, we had gathered a few conch shells to add to the decor of the cabin. In the afternoon, we decided to be adventurous and we took the boat to Honeymoon Harbor off Gun Cay to anchor for the night. Exploring the area on Baby Belle, stingrays fluttered through the waters in abundance occasionally making it close enough to the surface so we could touch them. It was a magnificent sight and we settled in for the evening listening to the waves lightly slap the hull ….well until 3am when a thunderstorm tore through the area lighting the boat up like a Christmas tree. We both feared we will never get a good night’s sleep again.

By morning the storm had passed and we pulled anchor and moved 5 miles south to Cat Cay. Since the pall was broken on the beloved windlass, we had to use a stick to release the chain and decided to drop two anchors as piece of mind in these unfamiliar waters. While attempting to re-anchor, the line tied to the dinghy so we could tow her along wrapped around the prop. There was no getting around what needed to be done, so Duane jumped in the water to cut the line free as I scanned the area for sharks. Not seeing anything that would prove detrimental to his health, he now had the opportunity to wire up the trim tabs. Not wanting to press his luck, he made a quick job of it and got back on the boat and grabbed the fishing pole. He was unsuccessful the previous night, but today he snagged his first catch and let me reel it in.

What marked our 100th travel day had us back in Alicetown tied up in Browns Marina as the winds the next few days were going to be substantial with gusts into the 30s. Before the weather turned, we took a walk to the Dolphin House Museum designed and constructed by a fifth generation local, Ashley Saunders, dubbed “Poetry in Stone” by many. The elaborate mosaic was a collaboration of construction scraps, recyclables and anything that would otherwise clutter the earth pieced together as a tribute to the Dolphin. Ashley was a character for sure.

That evening we added a few extra lines to secure the boat and, making sure I had a firm grip on the piling before I disembarked, we walked the dock up to Big John’s for dinner eyeing the sharks circling under the planks every step of the way. The restaurant definitely worked on island time which was a concept I have been slow getting used to. It wasn’t the best meal, but we hadn’t been out for awhile or seen a TV in over a week, so we pleasantly enjoyed the next few hours absorbing everything.

The weather turned for the worse the next morning so we decided to get some projects done on the boat. Duane turned the salon into his sewing room so I took to the upstairs and set up the laundromat on the flybridge. We checked in on each other every now and then and stopped to have lunch together. The weather cleared up enough later in the day that we were able to take a walk to the shipwreck on the bluff and caught up with fellow boaters at the Tiki Bar upon our return. The following day was Super Bowl Sunday and they were organizing a pot luck gathering to begin at kick-off.

Before the Super Bowl gathering was to commence, we spent the day biking the island. We went to the Resort World Marina at the north end of the island to walk the grounds and play some slots in the casino. The marina serviced millionaire clientele and, by the looks of the docks, Bella Donna would be grossly out of place. On the ride back we parked outside Stuart’s Conch Shack and strolled up to the deck to order some fresh conch salad. We of course had to find out for ourselves which shack served the best conch as both boasted they were number one on the island. After our meal, our vote was with Stuart. The last stop on our tour that day was at the End of the World Bar. Etching our names on the wall, as was required as a right of passage, we sat down for a beer with the locals.

The pot luck gathering was a great time and by halftime it was decided by the Captains that the weather was going to be calm enough the next two days to make the journey across the Bank. Being the only power boat, we were departing on a different course than the rest since the sailboats had a deeper keel and were unable to traverse some areas along the Bank without running aground. The trip across the Bank was almost one hundred miles regardless of whether we choose to head to the Berry Islands or Andros Island so a night anchored alone in the middle of nowhere with no land in sight was something we had to prepare ourselves for. I said a prayer that night that the waters treated us well moving forward. Or at least better than that first dreadful night in the country one long week ago.

Tying up at St. Lucie South State Park, we were pleasantly surprised by the manicured camp grounds and extensive RV park. There were 8 boat slips and we were elated to snag one of the coveted spots for the next few days. Over the last few months Duane has racked his brain over what could possibly go wrong on our trip in the Bahamas and ordered spare parts and backup spare parts which were shipped to Bob and Stephanie’s home. Once we were situated, Bob and Stephanie drove all the packages over to the boat in addition to two cases of wine which I had ordered as my “spare parts” contribution. There had to be about twenty packages, big and small, which they had been gathering for us over the last few weeks. We were truly grateful for them going out of their way to accommodate our packages and for the convenient “door to door” service. That night the four of us had a delicious dinner at Shrimper’s on the water and they filled us in on all the happenings since we left home. We also made plans for them to pick us up in the morning to go to Walmart so we could fill up our newly purchased freezer and stock up on two months worth of goods to sustain us as we anchored throughout the Bahamian islands.

Walmart was a success and not as torturous as I envisioned. The next stop…Total Wine…was what dreams are made of. Aisle after aisle of tastings and samples while we perused through endless choices of rum and vodka as well as hundreds of varieties of craft beers could have occupied me for hours. Carefully selecting what we could feasibly store on the boat without having to resort to hiding bottles under my pillow, we emerged from the store more than satisfied. Bob and Stephanie were amazing and drove us everywhere we needed to go so we were able to easily provision for the journey ahead of us.

Our friends, Jeff and Darlene, who we met way back in Charlevoix, MI and then visited us in Grand Haven, had trailered their boat all the way to St. Lucie and were planning to travel with us for a week before we left for the Bahamas and they continued on to the Keys for a short vacation. The night they arrived we had them, Bob and Stephanie over to the boat for drinks and had lots of laughs as the sun set and the gentleman in the RV next to the docks serenaded the park with a rendition of Taps on his bagpipes. This brought back pleasant memories of traveling to Mackinac Island which now seemed a lifetime ago.

Darlene made lasagna the next night which we devoured as we discussed our planned route and possible stops the next few days once we traversed through the lock and started traveling on to the Intracoastal Waterway (ICW). A wind and wave advisory had been issued in the area for the next two days so we decided to reserve our slips for another 48 hours and not move on until the conditions were more favorable. Bob and Stephanie invited the four of us as well as their neighbors, Chris and Miley, over their beautiful home for dinner the following day. After a day of shopping in more marine stores than I cared to, having a relaxing evening and a delicious home cooked meal was definitely what I needed.

Waiting out the weather another day, we made sure the boat was ready to move on, and then went to Happy Hour at the Dolphin Bar. Very apropos as Dar and Jeff’s boat was named the Nauti Dolphin. After a few drinks we made our way to the Boathouse to meet Bob and Stephanie to say farewell, thank them again and enjoy some fresh fish.

The winds did not calm as predicted so we sat tight one more day. As Darlene was getting things on their boat secured, I decided to go shopping with the boys for a few last minute items. Big mistake! Duane had us out for five hours traipsing in and out of each and every store on the strip and I never did get the carpet sweeper I had set out to purchase that day. Oh well…hopefully the sun is shining in the Bahamas so I can keep the dust buster charged.

A week passed by in the blink of an eye and we were in and out of the St. Lucie lock in the morning just as quick. Bob and Stephanie ended up taking their recently purchased golf cart through the neighborhood to the beach and waved to us passing by going toward the Intracoastal. We were headed to West Palm Beach and go-fast boats waked us every step of the way. Passing Peanut Island, we radioed Nauti Dolphin who travel much faster than us and agreed upon anchoring in Clematis.

After securing the anchor, Jeff swung by and we hopped on their boat so we could go to town. Tying up at the day docks, we walked over to ER Bradley’s to listen to the band, have some tacos and a few cocktails. Just by coincidence, Duane’s tenant, John, who is renting his boat slip in CT with his girlfriend, Jenna, was in town on business and stopped by to hang out. Heading back to the anchorage, we all collaborated and thought it was a great idea to raft up together for the night.

The next day started off with confusion which carried on throughout the day. First off, the anchor buoy somehow got wrapped around the prop and, unable to dislodge it, Duane had to dive under the boat and wrangle it off. All the while, Jeff positioned his boat to keep us clear of drifting aimlessly toward anyone else. After an hour, a wet Captain in tow, we were on our way. All throughout the day we waited for bridge after bridge to open while dodging coconuts and being rocked by the inconsiderate boaters racing off to God knows where. We still hadn’t decided on an anchorage in Fort Lauderdale as we had conflicting reviews on the two options we had researched. Since Nauti Dolphin did not have the height we did, they were far ahead of us after we both fueled up and planned to scope out both areas before we arrived. Trying to beat the next bridge, we neglected to get a pump out which put us in a little predicament as the green light was flashing warning us the tank was just about full. After scooting under the Atlantic Avenue bridge, it was getting dark, so we anchored in the first anchorage located in Sunrise Bay among the multi million dollar mansions. Nauti Dolphin, however, had made it to the second anchorage and settled in for the night.

We woke up early to a beautiful sunrise ready to tackle another day. As Duane drove, I had all the books out and was googling marinas we could stop at for water and a pump out, as well as a place to stop for the night in Miami. Hollywood Marina was very accommodating and assisted us in the pump out and let us top off our water tanks. With that task completed, we motored on checking in with Jeff and Darlene as they left their anchorage and followed us. A few hours later we decided to get a slip at the Bill Bird Marina in Haulover in North Miami. Reasonably priced, I would be able to get all our laundry clean before we crossed the Gulf Stream to the Bahamas. Jeff and Darlene had gifted us with a Thermacell lantern which was fast becoming a valuable asset to ward off the numerous mosquitoes that swarmed the waters at dusk.

The next few days we enjoyed fresh fish purchased from the local fisherman on the docks, went to town to have cocktails at the beach bar and even stumbled upon another Total Wine. One evening we had a delectable meal of blackened swordfish accompanied by Creme Brûlée expertly whipped up by Darlene in the instant pot.

We had been looking at the weather forecasts and getting some valued predictions from Marv and Chris Parker, and, though it wasn’t going to be ideal, Duane felt that we should peak our head out on Monday, January 27th, and attempt to cross the Gulf Stream over to Bimini, Bahamas. The final afternoon at the marina, we all boarded Bella Donna and decided to party like locals on the sandbar outside the harbor. It was a spectacular day for people watching as the sun shined and each boat tried to one up each other with outrageous antics and loud club music. It was like being in a Miami nightclub at two in the morning.

The next morning we bid farewell to our great friends and buddy boat, Nauti Dolphin, who we had an exceptional time with the last 10 days, and set out of the harbor to test the waters. The Haulover Inlet is very temperamental and sometimes difficult to cross. The inlet even has an Instagram account which broadcasts mishap after mishap of boats trying to traverse under the bridge into the open waters. Luckily for us, the wind was barely 10 knots and there was only a slight chop on the water. As we went further and further, the swells increased but the Captain was confident that this was a very doable crossing and we pushed on. In 57 miles we will be in the Bahamas!

It was a pleasant trip back North that day and we had one last encounter with Shoreline Traveller as they happened to pass us on the water on their way South. We exchanged pleasantries over the radio and as they drove off out of sight, we had our destination set heading toward Captiva Island. Anchoring right off the channel near Green Flash Restaurant, we took the dinghy to the docks to have a few drinks. That evening we had reservations at the Bubble Room…a Christmas present from Duane’s mom and his sister, Lisa. Eclectic and full of memorabilia covering every surface of the establishment, the decor was an assault on all your senses. Our dinner was scrumptious and the desserts were as extravagant as the interior decor. We were so full after the meal, Duane had to loosen his shorts on the walk back to the boat.

The wind was picking up the next two days so we decided to stay put and enjoy the aesthetics of our surroundings. We went ashore the following day and stumbled upon RC Otter’s which was a lively joint a block from the ocean. We sat on the deck enjoying the one-man band and 2 for 1 Happy Hour specials. Just as the sun was setting, we strolled toward the beach and grabbed beers at Mucky Ducks and took our place along the sand dunes to watch the sun go down. People lined the entire stretch of the water and a blow up Santa was perched on a sandy hill swaying in the wind. With a roar of applause, the crowd bid farewell to another glorious day. The anchorage was calm and serene, and upon returning to the boat, Duane mixed us up some cold rum cocktails and we sat on the bow breathing in the fresh air and gazing at the thousands of stars twinkling above.

Waking up the next morning, we decided to tool around in Baby Belle and drove out to the Gulf and explored the shallower areas we couldn’t get to otherwise. Sufficiently parched after the island tour, we pulled the dinghy up to the beach near Tween Waters Marina and made our way to the Oasis Pool Bar to partake in some refreshing frozen Piña Coladas…with a rum floater of course.

The next day we leisurely got the boat ready as we were headed for lunch at Grandma Dots on Sanibel Island a few miles away. The island was a renowned spot to visit and we were eager to see what the hype was all about. The small oasis surely did live up to its reputation, as the food at Grandma Dots was exceptional and we capitalized on the rest stop by taking time to walk the lovely grounds before we were off again headed to Fort Myers Beach. We were spending the next few days in Fort Myers Beach in preparation for crossing though the Okeechobee Waterway onto Florida’s East Coast.

The trip over to Fort Myers was choppy and windy and, with the current against us, we were moving at a very slow pace. Arriving into the area by late afternoon, we hooked up to a mooring and went ashore to Matazama’s Inn to settle our bill. We strolled down to the beach and were just in time for Happy Hour so we bar hopped our way along the sandy stretch enjoying the sights. On the dinghy ride back to the boat we caught a familiar sight at a mooring not far from us…Samantha…so we stopped by to say Hello to Cathy and Kirk who we have not seen since that fateful night crossing the Gulf when Dancing Bears was in distress.

We have been in contact with Jim and Wendy since we last parted ways and they owned a condo in Siesta Key and offered to pick us up the following evening. Upon collecting us just outside of town, we went for drinks at the Beach Bar near the condo. The beach bar just so happened to be next to the 9 foot high bridge that I slightly misjudged and attempted to drive under a few days prior. Needless to say, at 16.8 feet, we would not have made it under the bridge fully intact. One near miss I did not want to be reminded of.

Their condo was so airy and refreshing and they had a marvelous view. If you can’t be relaxing on your boat, this was the next best place to be. Plus, Pumpkin was there and Duane was having a great time playing with his little pal. Meeting some of their friends, we went to town for dinner and late night chocolate martinis at Blasé Cafe. Jim and Wendy were the ultimate hosts and, after waking up to a lovely breakfast followed by a walk on the beach, we were sad to have to go. As you travel day by day and meet a multitude of people, they were true friends who we feel privileged to have in our lives.

• 

After Jim and Wendy dropped us off at the grocery store closer to Fort Myers, Karin and Tommy, who had come back from New Jersey to enjoy a few days of warm weather, offered to chauffeur us and the groceries back to the boat. You can never underestimate the generosity of friends. Food stowed on the boat, we went ashore to meet them at Petey’s Bar for some ice cold beer and pizza. Strolling down the road, we saddled up to the bar swings at the Yucatan Bar and Grill and continued with the flurry of travel stories of the trip. Duane liked to embellish our adventures just a little bit at my expense to get a good laugh.

We had ordered a freezer in anticipation of our two month trip to the Bahamas in a few weeks. We intended to load up with as much food as possible as we were wary about how easily it would be to obtain groceries on the less populated islands of the Bahamas. Lifting a huge weight off our shoulders, Karin and Tommy picked the freezer up at the store for us and brought the heavy load down to the dock. To go a giant step further, Tommy went with Duane to wrangle the freezer onto the dinghy and bring it safety back to the boat on the mooring. Definitely above and beyond, we were more than grateful for the assistance. Me more than anyone as that let me off the hook from some heavy manual labor.

After the boys returned from their excursion, we went down to the beach for lunch at Salty Crab and watched the surfers and paddle boarders making the most of the beautiful weather. We planned to leave in the morning, so Karin graciously suggested we come back to their home and, after taking a nice hot shower which we did not have to wait on line for, they treated us to a delicious sushi dinner at a local restaurant. It was definitely a bitter sweet feeling saying farewell as we had such a wonderful visit, but we were also looking forward to the days ahead and ultimately landing in the crystal blue waters of the Bahamas.

We decided to move the boat closer to the Fort Myers Yacht Basin the next day for two reasons. Duane had contacted his cousins, Gina and Bruce, who lived in the area, and they decided to drive down to meet us at The Lodge for dinner. The second reason was more obvious as it was Duane’s last chance to visit the taco window in the courtyard. Believe me, he made the most of it and stocked up on enough tacos to last the next few meals. We had a lovely evening with his cousins and went back to the dock well after dark. Our dilemma now was to move the boat from the day dock, which we were required to vacate by 10pm, and locate our mooring in the pitch dark. I secured my headlamp and grabbed the boat hook and took my position on the bow readying myself for the task at hand. After searching for what seemed like hours, our lights finally zeroed in on the white ball. What ensued the next thirty minutes was more like a calamity of errors trying to wrangle the mooring ball and slip a line through the pendant. The first attempt almost pulled me off the boat into the darkness as the boat hook I grabbed may not have been the best choice as it got wedged into the metal eye of the ball and I was unable to dislodge it. Making a second pass, when I was able to get a firm grip on the pole stuck on the mooring ball, I pulled with all my might and both I and the boat hook landed onto the hard surface of the bow. The third and the forth tries were no better as the ball bounced up and down seemingly just to antagonize me. Sensing the Captain’s frustration, I knew I had to change my tactical approach. He got the boat close enough to the ball on the fifth try that I was able to lie flat on the bow pulpit on top of the anchor and snag the mooring. All was now good and I gave myself a pat on the back for the ingenious idea. The darkness had really thrown me off my game, and I knew I would soon be getting a lesson and some pointers for “next time.”

The next morning I said good riddance to mooring ball #4 and we emerged onto the Okeechobee Waterway where we were to encounter a series of locks over the next two days. The Franklin lock only raised us 2 feet and, unlike any other locks we’ve passed though, they opened the doors slightly to let water in on the far end of the lock to accomplish the balance between the sides. Arriving at the LaBelle City Docks, we were able to tie up for free as well as hook up to power and water. Once the power was flowing through the boat, I took advantage and charged everything from the flashlights to the dust buster to Duane’s toothbrush. I also whipped together a huge batch of chili to sustain us the next two travel days.

Heading off early, we were soon tied up in the Ortona lock. Raising us about 8 feet, it was like a tidal wave was unleashed when they cracked the doors and the water flooded in. I held on to the rope tightly as Duane laughed at my shocked expression from the pressure of the water exerted on the boat. We made passage through the Moorehaven lock a few miles along without incident and decided to head to Clewiston and tie up between two dolphins (a set of pilings not the marine mammals) before dark. The dolphins towered above the boat and I had to stand on my tippy toes with a fully extended boat hook to get the line secured to the cleats. The boat felt like a hammock rocking back and forth between the two posts. It was hot and buggy so we sealed up the boat as best we could and stayed inside the rest of the evening.

The next day we flipped the lines off the dolphins and we shot across Lake Okeechobee. Because of the water level, the Mayaca lock was open to pass through so we cruised onto the St. Lucie Canal arriving at St. Lucie South State Park where we had reserved a slip. Our friends from Connecticut, Bob and Stephanie owned a home in Stuart and we were anxious to see them as well as their new house located a few miles away. We had highly anticipated this visit and looked forward to relaxing and catching up with friends before we began to head South on the East Coast full steam ahead preparing to cross the Gulf Stream.

As we approached the docks of the Fort Myers Yacht Basin, we saw Pierre waiting to help us with our lines. Renee had flown home to Canada for a visit and wasn’t returning until the evening so we made plans to get together for docktails upon his return from picking her up from the airport. This gave me time to toss in some laundry and organize the interior of the boat which has become a mini disaster over the last few travel days when we were constantly on the move.

A few hours later, we grabbed some drinks and we headed over to Shoreline Traveller and were introduced to Jeff and Susan aboard Gran Vida. We all chatted and laughed about the unexpected trials and tribulations of boat life and Renee and I caught up as she showed me pictures of her beautiful family back home in Canada. We confirmed plans to meet in the morning to head to Fort Myers Beach for Christmas Brunch. Christmas on the beach was going to be a first for both of us.

I had managed to hide a few small “presents” to put in the Captain’s stocking and, as no surprise to me, he was elated to have more cans of his favorite snacks -sardines and dried seaweed. We weren’t supposed to be exchanging gifts, but he actually pulled one over on me and whipped out the seahorse tote bag I had been eyeing back in Canada. I think he was very pleased with himself as he knew by my smile he had gotten me the perfect gift…well aside from wishing he had installed auto pilot…but I certainly was not complaining.

Brunch was a delicious buffet at Lani Kai restaurant right off the beach overlooking the ocean. People had flocked to the area from all over and were definitely in the Christmas spirit even though the climate was far from the winter wonderland we were accustomed to.

The rest of the week was spent exploring the town of Fort Myers. We strolled with Renee and Pierre to the Edison Ford Estates and were pleasantly surprised by the massive grounds, architecture and preservation of the historical element of that age. Thomas Edison and Henry Ford, being good friends, purchased winter homes next to one another and it was here that they hatched many of their groundbreaking ideas and inventions. The botanical garden where Edison grew various plants for experiments, as well as those planted just for beauty, was a testament to his vast intellect.

Realizing that one of the great resources we relied on for our weather forecasts, Marv Market, lived in the area, Duane sent him an email to see if he was interested in meeting for a drink as our way to say Thank You. We were happy that he accepted the invitation and we planned to meet him and his wife, Carol, later in the week at the restaurant Pinchers located at the Edison Ford Marina. And, to our good fortune, Debbie and Steve were docked at that very marina on Gypsies Palace. We had met Debbie and Steve on the sixth day of our trip (we are now on day 135) and we looked forward to catching up with them that evening. Gypsies Palace was even more spectacular than I remembered and we enjoyed drinks on the upper deck discussing how far we had come since the novices we were when we met back in Kingston, NY. They are a lovely couple who we relish the chance to speak with and gain any wisdom from that we can.

The afternoon that we were all headed to Pinchers to meet Marv in the evening, I had made plans to catch up with my old college friend, Karin, her husband, Tommy, and their two beautiful daughters at Ford’s Garage. Duane and I had already eaten at Ford’s and they hands down had the best burgers I’ve tasted since NYC – sorry “cheeseburger in paradise.” I hadn’t seen Karin since we met in the city months and months ago when this trip we were on was just an idea. Now that the dream had come to fruition and we had landed in Florida thousands of miles from where we started, it was so great to see them and laugh over the times we’ve had along the way.

Duane said meeting Marv was like meeting a legend and he was so happy to put a face to the name we had come to rely on day after day. He and his wife, Carol, were such a pleasant couple and diehard Packers fans. We were happy that the other boaters we were in contact with took the time to also meet him and we all had an enjoyable evening.

With the week almost coming to a close, we decided to go to the courtyard and listen to the band and have tacos from the take out window. That was one of the best decisions we had made thus far, as the tacos and loaded nachos were out of this world. I know Duane was making a mental note to schedule a return trip when we came back through town in little over a week to head through the Okeechobee Waterway leading us onto the East Coast.

Our last night in Fort Myers we met up with Renee and Pierre and had sunset drinks on the rooftop of Firestone, stopped by Izzy’s for oysters and strolled the courtyard. This was one last chance we would have to enjoy docktails together before we were off on our separate ways once again as we were off to Naples for New Years and they soon would be heading to Marathon.

And just like that, as quick as we arrived and Pierre helped us tie up, we were bidding them farewell as they tossed us our lines.

That afternoon we arrived at the Naples City docks after enduring 2-3 foot rollers out on the Gulf for the better part of the trip as well as typical Florida boat traffic which is basically chaos. Salty Paws was at a mooring, but leaving shortly to head South so we said a quick Hello and wished them safe travels. It was New Years Eve and we were meeting our friends Staci and Terrance to ring in 2020 at Terrance’s family condo on the ocean. To say the property was breathtaking would be an understatement. The “maid’s quarters,” which we had the pleasure to be staying in, was bigger than my old Manhattan apartment and had a bed more comfortable than any hotel. Terrance’s parents’ penthouse was grand and so tastefully decorated it could have been featured in a magazine. It was delightful to meet his family and soon we all headed off to dinner at Lamoraga Restaurant to continue the evening festivities. Duane and I were soon being served a four course meal that was definitely in a class way above the engine meals we were used to. When the meal came to a close, Richard, Terrance’s dad, insisted on covering the cost. It was way too generous and we were so thankful to be just included that we couldn’t thank them enough. Richard and Michele asked us all to come back to the penthouse and watch the ball drop and ring in the new year to round out the picture perfect day.

The next few days were spent relaxing on the beach, floating in the pool, having Mexican train tournaments in the illustrious cabana (which was actually three cabanas combined and, again, larger than my old apartment), eating like kings and basically being treated like royalty. We originally only planned to stay the one night, but being as generous and welcoming as they were, Richard and Michele opened their home to us for the next few days. We went to check on Bella Donna the third day and move her to a mooring while grabbing more clothes as well as our laundry which Michele so thoughtful suggested I bring back.

• 

• 

New Year’s Day we were again treated to an outstanding “recovery” brunch at Club Pelican Bay. They served everything from omelettes and pancakes to sushi, shrimp and steak to mention a few things. They also had a Bloody Mary “recovery” station being carted around to each table. We were in our glory! The donut tower with flavored dipping sauce topped off the extravagant meal.

That night Michele had made plans for all of us to go out again, this time to La Pescheria where again the meal was top notch and we were treated like family. Terrance’s son, Dawson, and the four of us stopped off for some drinks at Tommy Bahama after the meal and made our way back to the cabana for a late night cocktail.

If we were not being taken out, we were being treated to the best food poolside. Terrance was in charge of the barbecue and served up swordfish, snapper, filet mignon, ribs and crab cakes that could rival any restaurant and you couldn’t beat the view. It was definitely going to be hard to go back to our simple routine after the last 5 days. We were so thankful and blessed for the hospitality bestowed upon us.

We anchored in Gulfport the next evening and had Molly and Bill over for dinner. We chatted and laughed well into the night and discussed how the travel days to come left us with great anticipation–both of the warmer weather and the new territory were we about to discover.

Arriving in Sarasota the following afternoon, we secured a mooring at Marina Jack’s. A definite perk to having a mooring as opposed to anchoring was that I had privileges to wash all the laundry that had accumulated and was practically taking over the boat as well as take a luxurious shower in a high class marina. It had been a long time since I was worried about spiders invading my shower space.

Walking the grounds, we stopped by O’Leary’s Tiki Bar and listened to the band playing at Happy Hour on the beach. Crossing into town, I directed us to Owen’s Fish Camp which I had read rave reviews about. We sat at the bar and enjoyed a delicious lobster dinner while conversing with the bartender about the area and listening to the band playing out on the porch.

In the morning we took the dinghy to shore to meander through the Farmer’s Market. To our delight, this was a true market with fresh produce and fruit galore as well as homemade breads and pasta. We didn’t know where to shop first but had to exercise some restraint not having space to store an exorbitant amount on the boat. Pleasantly satisfied, we headed back to our floating condo and were soon on our way into Roberts Bay.

Passing the white beaches of Venice, the Captain chowed down on some newly purchased funnel cake trying not to get powdered sugar all over the controls. But, the go-fast boats buzzing us along the way were making that effort extremely difficult. The Florida boaters we’ve encountered so far loved their fast toys and loved waking us even more so I was still preparing the cabin for “rough” seas every morning.

Anchoring that night off Englewood Beach in a snug spot before the thunderstorms hit, we were enjoying some wine in the cabin staying dry when bright lights lit up the sky. Running to the window, we had front row seats to the town’s Christmas boat parade.

The rain was still coming down in the morning when we hoisted the anchor, motored around the shoals and powered on further South. Crossing the Charlotte Harbor was worse than the trip across the Gulf. Things were so rough and rocky that Duane increased our speed to ease the incessant banging of the bow being buried in wave after wave. Salty Paws was already tied to the Cayo Costa State Park dock and texting us words of encouragement in our battle across the harbor. Helping us tie up, I was happy to get on solid ground and see Molly and Bill. Taking a walk a half mile through the island, we arrived at the Gulf beach. After collecting some shells, we sat on the sand and watched the waves crash from a different and, much more comfortable, perspective than we had earlier in the day. We had a fun night on Salty Paws that evening playing cards and enjoying some wine and rum punches. Poking our heads out to step on the dock and walk the few feet back to the boat, we were immediately hit in the face with pelting rain and raging wind. Quickly jumping aboard Bella Donna and closing all the windows, we watched the waves violently crash over the docks and were so glad we were not at anchor bouncing around.

The four of us made plans to meet at Cabbage Key the next afternoon to have a “cheeseburger in paradise” at the Inn. Arriving earlier in the morning, we tied up at the dock and took Baby Belle to tour the Tunnel of Love before lunch. Not sure who named this winding maze of brush and marsh, but there was nothing lovely or romantic about it. We had to crouch down in the dinghy and ward off spiders and low branches with our paddles as we made our way to the clearing. The area beyond the narrow overgrown creek was pretty and serene, but I was not looking forward to the return trip.

Molly and Bill had already arrived by the time we made it back and we had a pleasant lunch on the porch and then contributed our dollar to the memory wall before departing. Biding farewell for now to Molly and Bill as they drove away, we took a quick walk to see the resident turtles and tried to beat the storm rolling in, but we did not quite make it. We were soaking wet by the time we anchored in Glover Bight off the banks of the Westin Hotel. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve and we will be at Fort Myers Yacht Club for a week celebrating the holidays.

• 

We and many of the cruisers went to Fathoms that evening to clear our minds and relax. Although the crossing was the major topic of conversation, we had a great evening and decided to let be what will be. None of us could change the impending weather conditions so we had to wait for things to unfold the next day. To gain as much knowledge as we could, Duane was was all over the current forecasts, one of the boaters signed up for Chris Parker’s weather report and guidance and we were meeting with a local Captain the following morning to get additional input.

Getting together at 1pm Duane started the gathering by telling everyone the local Captain did not see today as a good opportunity for anyone to make the crossing. The winds were against us and her exact words were “there is no amount of duck tape” to keep your boat and crew secure. Chris Parker was even skeptical but gave us a detailed course to navigate if we choose to venture out in the predicted conditions. At the closing of the meeting, most boats were paired up and 4pm was the estimated time of departure. Most boaters were confident in following the Chris Parker track and thought the local Captain was being overly cautious. Rushing back to the boat, I busied myself rearranging the cabin by securing all the glass and putting anything that may become a projectile low to the ground. Duane went through his engine and maintenance checklist as I packed a cooler to last us the next 24 hours and also make a comfortable area to nap at the helm. If it was going to be lumpy and bumpy, we were planning to camp out on the flybridge and only descend into the cabin by sheer necessity.

Leaving the dock we waved goodbye to Greg and Pam who were going home for Christmas and radioed Tom and Riley on Dancing Bears who were to be our buddy boat. Dancing Bears was having voltage issues, which was not a good omen, but decided to continue on and followed us into the open water. The first few hours were not terrible as we all checked in on the hour to get updates and adjust our course for a more comfortable ride by what was being relayed back to us by the faster boats. In all, Bella Donna, Dancing Bears, Short Vacation, Samantha, Salty Paws, Archimedes, Alcyone, Here’s To Us, We Wine A lot, God’s Grace and Reel Grace were proceeding forward into the unknown.

It was soon pitch dark and very unnerving not to see where the next wave was coming from while we waited for the moon to rise. The quiet seemed intensified by the blackness and we were startled when Riley’s panicked voice came on over the radio. Dancing Bears had smoke in the cabin! Upon hearing that, Duane flipped the boat around and we turned on every light so they could locate us in the distance. As we tried to make our way back to them we were pounded by waves and being thrown around mercilessly. Duane called the coast guard and was instructing me to get fenders and lines ready in the event we had to get them off the boat as he tried to keep the boat as steady as he could as waves crashed over the bow. At the same time, Kirk and Cathy on Samantha had turned around and were making their way back. It was soon determined that the engine had overheated due to a pump failure and coolant spilled out on the hot surface filling the boat with steam, not smoke. With no fear of fire and me now violently getting sick, Duane flipped the boat back around and idled along our previous course standing by to see how the situation unfolded. Kirk and Cathy were amazing and coordinated the radio calls with the coast guard, Tow Boat US and made sure Dancing Bears was anchored and secure awaiting help. We felt horrible leaving them, but once we heard they were in no eminent danger and the anchor was holding, we began to increase speed and move away. It was still early in the night and we had many hours ahead of us.

My stomach settled after a few hours and the moon was soon high in the sky providing a bright light on a clear night. This was one development that was going in our favor. The rest of the night passed without incident as we took our shifts driving switching every two hours. As Duane said, he was “Auto” and I was “Pilot.” The tediousness of manual steering with no object on the horizon to focus on, was a challenge. Well a challenge for me at least, as I somehow managed to flip the boat around and blamed the little boat marker on the computer screen I was supposed to be following the course of which was now upside down. Duane just rolled his eyes, put us back on course and laid back down.

The sun was soon up and I felt much more at ease even though we had about 8 hours to go until we reached Tarpon Springs. As we made it closer to land, we were able to check in with our fellow travelers to see how everyone was faring and get tips on avoiding the crab pots. About 20 miles off the coast, the winds picked up and the water became extremely choppy as we banged against wave after wave. The Gulf was not letting us off that easy. Five miles off shore with land in sight, the water calmed and I was getting the anchor ready. We decided to anchor and get some sleep and catch up with everyone the following day. At 2:53 pm, almost exactly 23 hours after our departure, we were safe and secure beside Anclote Key. I checked in with Tom and confirmed Dancing Bears had made in back to the marina in Carabelle, opened a bottle of champagne to celebrate our arrival and we were fast asleep by 7pm.

Moving into the Tarpon Springs Marina next to the famed Sponge Docks, we were elated to see a few boats from the crossing tied up there. Bill and Molly from Salty Paws accompanied us to lunch at Mama’s located in the Greek section of town off the docks. Over authentic gyros, we recounted the previous day’s adventure. Later that afternoon, a larger group gathered at the Dock Bar and toasted to our accomplishment.

• 

A cold front had moved in overnight and wind and rain soon followed. My family was driving up to visit us and we planned to have dinner at Hella’s that evening. My cousin Brian and Teresa arrived earlier in the day, so after giving them the grand 5 minute tour of the boat, we went to have cocktails at a courtyard bar across the street and then drove over to Captain Jack’s for Happy Hour. My Aunt Anita, George and cousin Scott also braved the stormy weather and treated us for a delicious meal at Hella’s–A Greek staple in Tarpon Springs. It was so good to see them after all these years and after so much time away from home.

There was a chilly brisk wind blowing the next day and we decided to take the trolly to Clearwater beach for lunch. Patty from Alcyone came along as her boyfriend Todd was not feeling well these past few weeks and was resting. Although it was unseasonably cold, the three of us had a fun afternoon on the Jolly Trolly tour strolling the beach and having some frozen cocktails. As cold as the day was, it felt good to have sand between our toes once again.

• 

Stocking up on Greek pastries and sweets to keep us satisfied through the next few days, we had agreed we should move on. We had Christmas plans in Fort Myers with Renee and Pierre and were so looking forward to seeing them. That night we had docktails and dessert on Short Vacation along with Patti. It was very much appreciated by all of us that Pam and John had downloaded some very useful information to aid in our travels down the Florida coast and on into the Bahamas–a crossing we were planning to tackle the beginning of February.

With the Gulf crossing now behind us, we took off South toward warmer weather to spend the next five days exploring before we headed into Fort Myers for Christmas Eve.

Leaving our little furry friend to watch over the boat, we packed a bag and headed off to the Greyhound station in Mobile for a two hour ride into New Orleans. The station was, for the lack of a better word, “eclectic.” In any event, we grabbed seats in the first row and decided to keep to ourselves. We haven’t been on public transportation in months or traveled over 10 mph in weeks so it was a very enlightening experience.

Arriving at the bus station in Louisiana, we jumped in an Uber and headed off to the Big Easy. Dropping our bag at the hotel, we busted out onto the streets of the French Quarter. The warm feeling of the Christmas season was oozing from all the establishments as the lights twinkled, drinks flowed and the music played. It was definitely the downtime we needed to recharge our batteries as we soaked in all the sights in between the delectable beignets at Cafe Du Monde, Hurricanes at Pat O’Brien’s and as many charbroiled oysters that we could get our hands on….which were especially delicious at the Royal House. That night we crashed hard sinking into the king size bed after a long hot shower…the Hilton never felt so luxurious. After pounding the pavement for a few hours the next day, catching some time to have a drink at the Carousel Bar in Hotel Montelone after hitting the Farmer’s Market in Jackson Square, we grabbed Po-boys at Erin Rose for tomorrow’s lunch and hightailed it over to Superior Seafood to indulge ourselves further for a fabulous dinner. After a whirlwind of a day, we hopped on the bus back to Mobile to get the boat ready for the next leg of the journey across the Florida Panhandle.

After getting the boat sufficiently provisioned for the next few days, we headed over to the Grand Mariner for a Looper gathering. There were 12 boats in attendance and it was a pleasure to met new boaters as well as catch up with BackAtcha and Salty Dog. Along with ourselves, many boats would be crossing Mobile Bay in the morning as the weather forecast was stellar with low winds and calm waters.

Not sure if it was the salt water from the Gulf or that we were further south, but sunrise was especially bright that day as it rose over the shrimp boats in the harbor and we untied from the dock.

After crossing Mobile Bay with ease, it was smooth boating to Lulu’s which was our lunch destination with Salty Dog and Nex T’ See. Lulu was the sister of Jimmy Buffet and we were told that her restaurant was a most stop on the way to Florida. We had our first dolphin sighting along the way, but in my opinion, since we travel slower than a turtle, she was soon bored and quickly on her way. After a nice lunch on the patio enjoying the warm sunshine, we were hoping we had finally caught up to the weather we had been waiting for.

Ingram Bayou was a beautiful secluded anchorage where we decided to settle in for the night that evening. As we idled into the far corner of the cove we caught a glimpse of two sailboats who just happened to be friends we have not seen since Michigan. Hopping into our dinghy we motored over to reacquaint ourselves with Maggie and Chuck on Timbuctoo and Joe on Breeze who had many stories to tell about their travels since we last parted. The moon was high in the sky when we decided to get back to the boat after one, or three, glasses of wine and prepare for the travel day ahead. We weren’t traveling too far as we had reservations at Orange Beach Marina a few miles away from the anchorage.

The Orange Beach area just screamed money as we passed home after home of beachfront property and private docks. From our recent experience, this was definitely a far cry from the modest homes on the rivers. The marina had covered docks and, after backing into our slip, we hooked up the power to charge the batteries and then checked in at the marina office. The grounds were meticulously maintained and pelicans adorned most of the pilings. This was most certainly a cruiser’s paradise.

Lisa from BackAtcha suggested going to Cosmos’s for dinner so we climbed into two rental cars with her, Chris, Patti (Alcyone), Tom (Dancing Bears), Ed and Kathy (Vitamin Sea). The food was great and we all chatted about our plans going forward. Besides Tom and ourselves, who were moving on in the morning, everyone else was staying in Orange Beach through the holidays.

And just like that, at 8:01 the following morning, we were in Florida. Duane said he felt the atmosphere definitely change as we crossed the border, but I think it was just us getting anxious for the inevitable and dreaded crossing of the Gulf of Mexico. I had been trying to get excited for the open water trip through shark infested waters, but, at this moment, I was very uneasy about that upcoming leg of the adventure. So much of the trip depended on good weather, cooperative winds and calm seas. At this point we were almost certain we were going to take three days and travel the rim route as opposed to an overnight crossing into Tarpon Springs— a 170 mile trip which, at our speed, would take about 22 hours.

We anchored out with Dancing Bears the next four nights slowly making our way to Carabelle where we would stage waiting for a good weather window for the crossing.

It was a gorgeous 70 degree day and our first stop was Navarre Beach located between Destin and Pensacola on Florida’s Emerald Coast. A quaint anchorage, we took the dinghy ashore with Tom to enjoy tuna tacos and drinks at Juana’s Sailors Grille. There was a live band and we were lulled to sleep by the tunes of Jimmy Buffet echoing from the beach.

We were on the move again by 6:30 in the morning and made a pit stop by the Fort Walton city docks to perform a much needed pump-out of the holding tank. Protective gloves and safety googles in place, the Captain took charge of the dirty task at hand as I stood well away from any potential mishaps. It was a little choppy under the Bay Bridge in the Choctawhatchee Bay where we dropped anchor later that afternoon. Sitting on Santa Rosa Beach outside the Bay Restaurant that evening, we relaxed while having a few rum cocktails watching the boat bounce in the current. A rough sleep for sure, we happily moved on once the sun rose.

Passing through 28 miles of a narrow channel dubbed the Grand Canyon, we anchored in the beautifully serene Pearl Bayou in Bay County on the third night after leaving Orange Beach. Tom invited us aboard Dancing Bears for dinner and to meet his friend, Riley, who had flown in to accompany him and his dog, Ripple, on the Gulf crossing. After a very pleasant evening, we boarded Baby Belle back to Bella Donna and were no sooner asleep when a torrential downpour descended upon us. The thirty cent fix was proving its worth keeping us dry and the boat was getting a much needed wash down so we didn’t mind the racket playing out above our heads all that much. And the wine may have helped just a little.

Moving further east the next morning toward Cypress Swamp, we entered the Eastern Time Zone for the first time since we had arrived in Michigan City on October 9th and thus lost an hour of daylight travel time. We dropped anchor outside the city of Apalachicola. Fishing boats and fresh seafood shacks lined the waterfront so we went ashore to purchase some fresh catch and browse through the shops. While Duane was mulling over purchasing some Mahi-mahi, I treated myself to a nautical necklace at the local shop. We all have our priorities!

• 

Our reserved slip at the Moorings of Carabelle was a 4 hour trip the next day as we received a positive push on the St. George Sound. After filling our near empty tank with gas once we arrived, we parked ourselves right next to Salty Dog. Greg and Pam are the friendly faces we have looked forward to seeing at many stops along our journey and it was nice to catch up over drinks that evening. It was now December 10th and there hadn’t been a good weather window to cross the Gulf since Shoreline Traveller and Adagio left with a group on the 5th. All we could do now is watch the weather and be patient…which was a hard concept with Christmas approaching.

Over the next four days the number of boats waiting to cross had significantly increased. Each day we chatted with other boaters and enjoyed what the local town had to offer. The marina cooked a hot breakfast each morning for all the transient boaters so we were able to bounce ideas off each other in regard to prospective weather windows and routes across to the West Coast. Over the course of our stay, we also learned there was a resident bear who lived in the IGA parking lot, The Fisherman’s Wife served the tastiest fish baskets and the all-you-can-eat crab leg special at Fathom’s Oyster Bar and Grill was the highlight of my stay. In addition to the great food, Fathom’s had a local band which entertained the crowd each night —the lead singer and guitar player was the marina diesel mechanic and also owner of the bar. Even the laundromat, which I was skeptical about at first sight, was a pleasant rustic experience.

After a few nights of good food and entertainment, there was an overwhelming consensus that our opportunity to move on across the Gulf was materializing. I was getting so antsy, I even let Duane cut my hair as I felt it was getting very unruly the last month down the rivers and across the Panhandle. He was more than happy to oblige which made me nervous and take offense at the same time.

On the 13th, Duane decided to see if all the other boaters wanted to get together to go over ideas and weather reports in the lounge. In all, twelve boats gathered and we discussed everything from boating safety, wind conditions over the next few days, possible routes and various forecast predictions. We put together a list of boats and tried to pair vessels up based on speed and we all planned to met at 1pm the next day as late that afternoon seemed promising with the current information we had.

That night the Captain sat me down and pleaded his case to sway me into the overnight crossing. I knew Christmas was ten days away and we needed three good weather windows, not just one, to boat along the rim route, but I was still nervous. The overnight trip was something I had been adamant against doing since the beginning as it would be the longest and furthest distance we had ever gone— traveling all through the night on one engine. In the end, he won me over and I trusted his judgement. Tomorrow is most likely going to be the big day! Fingers and toes crossed all goes well.

We were up the next morning before the herons and were in and out of four locks over the course of six hours. Fall had all but faded by now and the overcast skies were intensified by the dust and smoke being emitted by the industrial plants along the route….namely the Port of Amory which was grinding up trees in massive quantities.

After traveling consistently for continuous days now, we decided to tackle some boat projects and linger for a day or two at the Columbus Marina. Captain Duane needed to tend to the alignment on the “oh so temperamental” port engine which was getting little to no playtime these days. I also had some labor intensive tasks to occupy my time as the laundry was mounting and someone had to replenish the drink supply.

The next afternoon the marina was having a Pot Luck Turkey Fry as Thanksgiving was the following week so I headed to the Farmers Market to pick up some pie and also vegetables to make a pasta salad which was my contribution to the festivities. Watching college football, we caught up with Mark, Lana and Analise while dining on the Harbormaster’s delectable deep fried turkey, dirty rice and various side dishes supplied by other cruisers. Lisa and Chris aboard BackAtcha had arrived earlier that day and we exchanged cards making plans to leave the dock at 6:30 the following morning. It was predicted to be a crisp, sunny and calm day on the water so we were headed to an anchorage —Sumter Recreational Area—which was highly recommended located well over the border into Alabama.

The Sumter anchorage definitely lived up to all the hype and more. The scenery was mesmerizing as the sounds of wildlife echoed through the trees. By sunset, the five boats which powered down the river and through the locks all day together were securely anchored in the confines of the cove…along with Bella Donna were BackAtcha, Fish Vicious, Dixie Moon and Nex T’ See. We hadn’t officially met Doug and Nancy on Fish Vicious, but they came to collect us on their dinghy to have docktails with Chris and Lisa that evening aboard their boat. Little Winston was there to greet us and Duane was head over heels for the little guy who played fetch with him most of the night. It was truly a spectacular day and a very pleasant night to round it all out.

There was frost on the deck by sunrise, but the sight of the mist glistening over the water negated the harsh temperatures so much so that I volunteered to put my gloves on and hoist the anchor. We were well on our way before the sun burnt off the fog and soon brought into focus the extraordinary White Cliffs of Epes. The Captain was so taken by the limestone formations along the Tombigbee River, we came precariously close to a huge log barreling in our direction. We were dodging and weaving through debris most of the day and let out a sigh of relief as we entered Lake Demopolis. Weary from the constant maneuvering, we were ecstatic to grab a glass of wine that evening and check in with our buddy boats once Bella Donna was gassed up and comfortable in her slip at Kingfisher Marina. In addition, as a testament to the resolve of the boating community, a wonderful couple we had never met before, Donna and Alan, just happened to be walking by us as we were discussing an issue with our engine belt and went out of their way to go pick up new belts for us while we tended to the problem of the overheating engine. New belt installed, the following day we hit the town and treated ourselves to lunch a Stacy’s Cafe accompanied by Chris and Lisa.

The next three nights required us to anchor out along the Black Warrior -Tombigbee Waterway as there were no marinas or services until Mobile, AL. Mobile was our last stop before we crossed Mobile Bay and entered the Florida Panhandle.

To our excitement, the current on the waterway was exceptional and was pushing us along at a mind blowing 9.4 mph. Considering how much commercial traffic moves up and down the waterway each day, there is so much history behind the industry and what was required and sacrificed to build up this part of the country. Today we passed the remnants of Rooster Bridge which was the sight of the Cahaba tugboat accident of 1979. Amazing no one onboard the tug was injured as it was thrown sideways going downstream and sucked under the bridge upside down.

The first sight of a beach brought cheers from my side of the flybridge as we passed Four Mile Bar. Soon after we were anchored in Turkey Shoals off Coffeeville Lake which seemed aptly named for our timing as tomorrow was Thanksgiving. Since we were right off the channel and the tow traffic would be passing closely, we kept the radio on and informed each tow captain of our whereabouts once their spotlights were visible. Ever so courteous, the few that idled by after dark, wished us safe passage and a Happy Thanksgiving. In between sleep and radio calls, we debated whether the sounds echoing through the dark were owls or wolves and were glad we didn’t have a dog to take ashore and actually find out the extent of the wildlife in the darkness.

It was a bittersweet Thanksgiving Day. This was the first family holiday we were away since we started dating and, while grateful for this amazing experience, we did miss everyone back home. Since we were in no place to have a home cooked meal, I had whipped up some turkey wraps and heated up sweet potato pies purchased a few days earlier in order to adhere to the basis of the traditional holiday meal, even though it was somewhat of a stretch. In any event, the Captain praised my efforts and thoroughly enjoyed the Thanksgiving feast. He even had a chuckle as we motored by Turkey Point while shoveling the hot off the engine pie into his mouth. Arriving at the Coffeeville Lock we were looking forward to a quick passage so we could anchor and enjoy the rest of the gorgeous day. Well that was not to be the case….the lockmaster must have been in some sort of turkey coma himself as it took him 20 minutes just to acknowledge our presence outside the lock and then an additional 40 minutes to let us in the gates. Once the water level was even, we waited 15 minutes totally bewildered as to what was going on. Duane radioed the tower to make sure the lockmaster didn’t forget about us, after which, the doors quickly opened so surely he had.

Exiting the lock we were now back at sea level. This was a true milestone for our 35 year old boat since we had entered our first lock in Troy, NY over 2,500 miles ago. But Bella Donna was right at home in the salt water. It was her crew who needed to get used to the tidal changes and saltwater air once again. After a 10 hour day, we dropped anchor at Old Lock One and watched the dusk turn into night.

Lowering Baby Belle in the morning, we took a dinghy ride through the old dilapidated lock and watched the sunrise over the horizon. Soon enough we were on our way and smack in the middle of a busy day with tows appearing around every corner. Some passed with not so much as a ripple as others created what seemed like a tsunami in their wake. This was one aspect of the travel day I will not miss in the coming days as the anticipation of passing the massive barges is beginning to wear on my nerves. Safe and sound, we anchored off in the Tensas River. Bass fishing boats were zipping around to unknown creeks in the distance and I was a little wary when one pulled up beside the boat. Noticing not only an ax but a shotgun in the boat, I was more than a little skeptical as I grabbed for my boat hook. All in all, the occupants decked out in all camouflage were a lovely couple who were curious about the Great Loop and our travels thus far. But, the New Yorker in me did rear her head back in suspicion when they requested we come with them to their camp sight 10 miles up the river. Needless to say, we politely declined as I locked and barricaded the door…dueling banjos playing over and over in my head as Duane rolled his eyes.

Four hours into our trip the following day we entered the Mobile Shipping Channel. Here we saw our first building since St. Louis, passed by a Carnival Cruise ship at the Mobile Convention Center and encountered more tows and turbulence in this industrial area than we have in the last thousand or so miles. At the end of all the mayhem was Mobile Bay and eventually the shallow narrow channel leading to Dog River Marina. We tied up in front of Next T’ See across from the local shrimp boats and were glad to be taking a breather. Walking up to the Yacht Club for dinner and to catch up on the news, we bumped into Greg and Pam from Salty Dog. It was great to see them and we were excited to be able to get together in the next few days when we returned. We had just made a last minute decision to get off the boat for a night and take the Greyhound bus to New Orleans in the morning. Can’t wait to indulge in some scrumptious beignets!

It was a crisp 40 degrees when we departed the dock, but the sun was shining and the winds had subsided. Beginning this leg of the journey on our own, we hoped to soon cross paths with other boaters. The Barkley Canal converged with the Tennessee River and we were soon battling the current once again. Weary after a long day, we decided to tie up at Paris Landing Marina. Being late in the day by the time we arrived, in addition to the unseasonably cold weather and recent tornado which swept through the area, the marina was deserted. We figured we would catch up with the Harbormaster in the morning. Duane proceeded to complete the set of fleece sheets he started back in Kentucky, which now seemed a dire necessity, as I whipped together a batch of chili. By the end of the evening we were both toasty warm inside and out.

Settling up in the morning and filling the tank with gas, we left the channel for points South as the boat was covered with a layer of frost overnight. The Old Louisville-Nashville Railroad Bridge was soon on the horizon and not too far after, we cruised onto the Kentucky Lake. The channel into Pebble Isle Marina was extremely narrow as we traversed the waters, but the scenery was spectacular as the sun hung low in the sky. We were awake and back on the water again by 6:30 the next morning in order to make it to Clifton by dark. The engine sandwiches were sufficiently toasted halfway through our journey so we enjoyed a nice hot meal cruising passed the limestone formations of Denison Island and counted the numerous uprooted trees- casualties of the tornado. Though I wished we had been further along in our journey, we were very fortunate to have not been traveling through these waters, as other boaters had been, when the storm decimated the area a few weeks ago.

There were finally signs of life when we arrived at the Clifton Marina so we tied up and hopped off the boat. The restaurant/bar/store/boater’s lounge was a quaint and welcoming establishment and we grabbed a drink, paid for our slip and placed our dinner order for that evening— home cooked lasagna was on the menu. To our surprise and delight, Harold and Deb strolled in to greet us. While we were elated to see them, we were dejected that they were sidelined by engine issues and not sure when they would be moving on. Catching up that evening and hearing about their engine woes, we were introduced to a lovely couple, Mark and Lana, and their daughter, Analise, aboard Nex T’ See docked across from us who would also be leaving the harbor in the morning.

After a lovely evening with old and new friends, we awoke in the early morning hours to prepare the boat for the travel day ahead in addition to catching a quick shower in the marina bathroom/laundry room. We are always intrigued by the layouts of the various marinas we visit and the amenities offered to boaters. Peculiar indeed was this particular setup as the one unisex shower was located in the same room as the washer and dryer with a separate entrance directly into the marina store/restaurant. As I was not aware of the second door, the owner strolled in to do a load of clothes while I was shaving my legs. And so it goes in the day in the life of a transient boater.

As I emerged from the shower, fog had enveloped the entire area so there was time to order breakfast sandwiches as we waited for the visibility to improve. 45 minutes later, with two of the heaviest bagel sandwiches in tow, we were on our way to begin a pleasantly calm day on the river system. You know you are in the South when your hearty breakfast sandwich consists of sausage, bacon, egg, Swiss AND American cheese with cream cheese AND butter all crammed on a bagel. Before the last bite was even in his stomach, the Captain looked at me with his droopy eyes pleading for a nap. It was a calm day, and not many logs or barges had encroached on our path thus far, so I complied with the plea as long as he kept the radio handy in case I was in need of assistance.

The day crept by and we were soon anchored behind Diamond Island positioned for another amazing sunset. The rain came in with a vengeance that evening and, if I have not mentioned it previously, a 30 cent resolution has made a real difference in a pleasant night’s sleep as opposed to being woken up rudely to cold water dripping on my head. That’s all it took…a quarter and a nickel wedged under the latch to stop the water from seeping in and ruining my pleasant dreams. With all the recent rain and overcast skies, the batteries needed a jump in the morning to coax them to motor on as the solar panels were barely able to charge them.

Once the engines kicked into gear, we pulled anchor and off we went toward the Pickwick Lock and Dam. There were ten locks on the stretch of the river system beyond Green Turtle Bay and, once we exited at Pickwick, we were traveling with the current again and getting a good push at that. At roughly 34.9956 degrees N and 80.20 degrees W in the vicinity of Yellow Creek Falls, we converged on the precise spot where Alabama, Tennessee and Mississippi met. It was one of those excitable moments only understood after days of monotonous travel at 7.5 mph when the world passes by in slow motion, so I requested we make a U-turn and relive the experience one more time. Once we had sufficiently satisfied ourselves and, before anyone would think we were in distress for going around in circles aimlessly, we made our way to Grand Harbor Marina where Nex T’ See had already arrived.

The Harbormaster was full of information and, as another example of southern hospitality at it’s finest, lent us his car for the rest of the afternoon. After loading up on much needed groceries at the Pickwick Supermarket and sweets to avoid a “hangry” Captain, we made our way to The Outpost for lunch. The food was outstanding and the setting right out of the Wild Wild West. After Duane ordered an additional two sandwiches for us to consume on tomorrow’s travel day, I noted that some extra trips up and down the fly bridge steps were in order to counteract some of the calories consumed today.

Leaving the marina at sunrise, we were navigating toward the Tennessee-Tombigbee Waterway which was a 25 mile man-made passage about 11 feet in depth which allowed us to travel further south to Mobile, AL. The waters were extremely calm and easy to maneuver, so I took over at the helm for a few hours. Needless to say, the photographer on call dropped the ball and missed our photo op of a deer crossing in front of the boat while I was assuming the driving duties. But, to his defense, he did capture one of the man-made dams which we remarked looked more like the Plinko game from the Price is Right.

After a delay at the Jamie Whitten Lock and Dam, we were able to make it through the Montgomery Lock before it started getting dark about an hour later. As I pushed the boat away from the wall and we exited passed the dam, Duane, trying to always be the comedian and lighten up the mood, yelled to take a “dam” picture, which, I could haven taken literally or figuratively in the given situation. After snapping a few shots, I gave him the thumbs up and acknowledged his witty pun which only egged him on further. As the sun began to set, we decided to anchor right outside the Fulton Lock and be in a prime position to continue on in the morning.

It was now the end of October and we had given up wishing for an Indian Summer. We planned to leave the boat at the marina for over two weeks so we were assigned to the resident dock which was a short walk to where the other boats were tied up. That night I reluctantly put on a pair of jeans and we boarded the golf cart shuttle bound for the Thirsty Turtle at the other end of the property. The drinks flowed and the heat lamps were fired up as a group of us enjoyed dinner reminiscing about the last few long days on the rivers.

Green Turtle was a resort located in western Kentucky and a renowned Looper gathering spot. The resort overlooked Lake Barkley and had many amenities, including a spa, which added to the appeal. We had a few days to enjoy the surroundings before we had to be in a Nashville to catch our flights, so we made the most of them.

The next day we caught up with Renee and Pierre and heard stories of their travels since we parted in Chicago which now seemed like a lifetime ago. We were greeted by Poilu, who welcomed us aboard and let Duane pet him before he scampered off. Laughing over drinks, we also met a few Loopers they had been traveling with the last few weeks. Gallus and Adagio were scheduled to leave in two days, so we made plans to have dinner on Pete and Teresa’s boat with Dave and Denise the following night as a sort of “until we meet again” celebration. Pete was a Doctor of Poultry Science and served up the most delicious wings we have ever tasted. He gave me some pointers but I still have not mastered the recipe. Between laundry duty, packing and taking the courtesy car to Walmart, we went over to say Goodbye to Greg and Pam on Salty Dog as they were going home to visit with family and may have moved on by the time we returned. On the walk back, we bumped into Geoff and Ruth who had just arrived on Geru. They had some tales to tell since we last physically saw them in Alton. It strangely felt like we were all leaving on a break from college as we wished everyone well and vowed to keep in touch. A lot could transpire in the two weeks we would be gone.

The last to arrive before we left were Jim and Wendy on My Everything. It was so great to see them since our solemn parting back when the port engine was still in pieces. Group 1.5 was well on their way toward Mobile at this point and we gave up hopes of seeing them until possibly Florida. Jim ended up renting a golf cart and we all went to town to see the Christmas light spectacular and have dinner. Duane was very excited to see his buddy Pumpkin, their sweet cat who reminded him of his kitty, Val, who passed away before we left.

We had been torn between renting a car or taking an Uber two hours to Nashville the next day to enjoy a night out before our separate trips when we saw Harold and Deb from Columba who were heading that way with Zyg in the morning and they offered us a ride. Our sailboat friends saved the day! Zyg was only a few days away from crossing his wake and was going home for a visit before he brought his sailboat, Domino, to its original and final destination.

Nashville was a treat. We walked the streets past one bar after the other playing live music before settling on Whiskey Row and then parking ourselves on the rooftop of Kid Rocks Honky Tonk. Before dropping us off at the airport hotel, Zyg gave us all a tour of Opryland which was a marvel to see.

That night I took a nice hot shower not worrying about time or water consumption and tried not to sway too much on solid ground. Don’t get me wrong, being lulled to bed by the slapping of the waves on the hull can be soothing, but after 83 days on the water, we were immensely looking forward to being stationary for a few days.

In the morning we hurried to get ourselves together and board the shuttle to the airport. I was off to Texas to visit family and Duane was off to a job in Maine. Realizing we were headed to different terminals, it hit us that after being together in such a small space for almost three months, we would not be squeezing passed each other to grab a glass or use the bathroom for the next ten days. I know he was secretly elated at this prospect as he could now leave his socks hanging from the hotel light fixtures if he so desired.

I hadn’t seen my brother, Jim, or Linda and Nicholas and little Lily in a year and a half so I was very excited to arrive and spend the next week with them. It was great to catch up and spend some quality time in their beautiful home. Linda and I were able to squeeze some shopping in as well as pamper ourselves with pedicures and massages. The boys caught up with us for dinners and Nicholas introduced me to my first experience as a character in a virtual reality game. It was a great time even though I could not quite get a handle on my super powers. The Escape the Room challenge was more my speed. All in all it was a terrific week and I was sad to go, but hoped I would see them somewhere along our travels soon. Before I hightailed it back to Bella Donna, I was able to spend a quick weekend in Nashville with my old friend, Tara, who flew in from New York. For two days we hit all the hot spots and enjoy great music, food and conversation.

It was now Nov 11th and I was headed back to Grand Rivers, KY. As I grabbed an Uber, I was now feeling anxious to make sure our home was safe and secure. The skies were grey and dreary as the chill descended upon us. I was elated to see Bella Donna and realized how much I missed the comfort of her surroundings as I unpacked and reluctantly plugged in the heaters for the first time. That night was terribly cold and, to my shock, it snowed two inches overnight. I woke up to an unexpected winter wonderland and to the sounds of boaters hammering away at dock lines to free themselves from the cleats. A wave of emotions flowed over me as Duane was not expected to be back for two more days, and I was now stuck on the boat as the dock was a complete sheet of ice and the beer stored under the dinette was as cold as the beer in the refrigerator. I could not resist sending a picture of the bright blue mountains on the Coors Light can to Duane to emphasize my plight as I gathered all the available blankets and hunkered down with the three small heaters pointed directly at me. It was a very long and frigid 48 hours before I spotted Duane making his way down the icy dock to the boat. Before he even had a chance to step into the cabin, I informed him not to get comfortable as there was no time to waste as we needed to get ready to depart our present tundra as soon as possible. Winter had made an early appearance and I wasn’t waiting around for her to settle in.

It was an overcast morning and we hurried to get our lines untied as we heard chatter over the radio that boats were moving toward the lock. It always seems to be a last minute scramble in the morning no matter how many preparations are made the night prior to disembarking. Adagio was not far behind and the lock went off without a hitch as six Loopers in total traveled along the river that day.

One of the highlights of our trip was soon upon us…The St. Louis Gateway Arch. The massive structural monument towered 630 ft high off the west bank of the mighty Mississippi. Being the iconic symbol commemorating the westward expansion of the United States, we could not miss the opportunity to have our photo taken under the steel arch. A selfie stick long enough to capture the moment was out of the question so we radioed Adagio and coordinated our photo ops while fighting the current.

The rest of the day was dreary and we still had plenty of light left when we passed the iconic Hoppies Marina, which is basically an old broken down barge, so we decided to keep moving. Hoppies had been a Loopers right of passage for many years, but storms and life occurrences have made it a less desirable stop as of late. We arrived late in the afternoon to tie up on the Kaskaskia lock wall. A few boats had arrived before us and were secured for the evening so they were more than happy to lend a hand and catch our lines. Seeing Greg, Pam, Dave and Denise were a sight for sore eyes after a long day. The sailboats, Columba and Domino, came in as the sun was setting and we were more than happy to reciprocate and get them situated. That night we were welcomed onto Columba and found out that Harold and Deb were neighbors to our friends, Jim and Wendy, on My Everything in Canada. As vast as our travels have been, we marvel time and time again at the connections we have made. Terrible thunderstorms rolled in that night and continued through the whole next day so no one was in a rush to move on. We checked in with Greg and Pam on Salty Dog, exchanged cards with Theresa and Pete on Gallus who we had just been introduced to and spoke with Zyg who was sailing solo on Domino and inching closer to crossing his wake in Nashville. We busied ourselves bailing out the boat numerous times throughout the day and I had the bright idea of organizing the V-berth…which was more trouble than it was worth. We were basically confined to the small concrete strip the boats were lashed to as we were instructed over the VHF that climbing the enclosure into the surrounding area was prohibited. Big Brother was definitely watching. Weather aside, taking the dinghy across to the park was even less appealing as the coyotes (or so we thought) howled through the trees all day and night.

A gorgeous sunrise was soon upon us as we were more than ready to continue south. We were about three miles off the wall when fog engulfed us and decreased our visibility to merely an eighth of a mile. Pam and Greg were traveling in front and were radioing back conditions as I surveyed the waters for logs and other impediments that would ruin our day…or our trip completely. The sailboats were inching along behind us as everyone else turned back and decided to wait for the fog to lift. The eddies were swirling and the rain had washed out some of the anchorages while a few others were filled with debris so we made the decision to anchor in Little Diversion Channel, which we were told by boaters who had traversed the area a few days ago, was our best bet. Accessing the channel was a little tricky hindered by the swift current so we blew on by and had to completely turn around and slowly make our way back through the entry. Dropping the anchor, I was glad to finally have a nice day to enjoy some hours of sunshine. Being early, Greg and Pam decided to push forward and get a little further along the river. Adagio and Gallus passed by the entrance a few hours later and radioed back to us that they were turning around and coming into the channel since there was plenty of room and no debris. Our three boats ended up rafting together and we had a great night of laughs over drinks hopping between boats eventually all congregating on Bella Donna well into the night. At 2am we were rudely awakened by scratching sounds accompanied by a thud and, upon inspection, there was literally a tree sprawled out lengthwise across all three anchor chains. Duane was soon joined by Dave and Pete and they managed to dislodge the tree with the boat hooks along with the hundreds of pounds of debris that was accumulating behind the trunk. Once free, the anchors reset and we all settled in for a few hours more sleep before the 100 mile trek to Paducah. It seemed like just 10 minutes and we were back up in the dark organizing for the long day ahead. It will take us about 12 hours to travel the distance to Padauch and we were hoping to arrive before dusk so we all pulled anchor and filed out of the channel just after sunrise.

Around noon we branched off onto the Ohio River and the 4 knot current which was pushing us along spectacularly came to a screeching halt. We were now battling the current and moving at a mere 6.9 miles an hour. Gallus and Adagio were soon out of sight as they raised speed to compensate for the effects of the current. We were now in a struggle between speed and time as we didn’t have the leeway of traveling that long of a distance at a higher RPM for fear of running low on fuel. Approaching the Olmstead lock we caught a break as the other boats were being held up by barge traffic. Even though it was a pass through lock, boats were required to gain permission before traversing the area. Being three miles away, Duane reluctantly agreed to increase our pace to catch up and pass through the lock with the group. Making it by the skin of our teeth, we thanked Salty Dog for slowing down and giving us a much needed few minutes to get closer. Back in the rear, we felt much better having other boats in sight or earshot on the radio for most of the next 5 hours.

The Paducah Dock was fairly new having been rebuilt after the last hurricane. In addition to the new dock, a concrete wall was constructed around the city to ward off the rising flood waters as well as adding pilings towering 80 feet in the air. The area definitely seemed to be prepared for any adverse weather conditions. Arriving as the sun was setting we were the thirteenth boat to tie up who were being accommodated for the night. Columba and Domino would be number 14 and 15 respectively as the dock master skillfully squeezed everyone in. Reuniting with Adagio (Dave and Denise) and Gallus (Theresa and Pete) we made our way to PJs Bar and Grill to celebrate our longest travel day thus far. Being a long day, Greg and Pam decided to stay in for the night and rest up for the trip to Green Turtle Bay in the morning.

In the morning it was decision time….should we make our way through the Berkeley Lock which was opening on restricted hours due to construction or head to the Kentucky Lock which was notorious for long delays due to commercial barge traffic. After much deliberation and after hearing horror stories about the construction at the Berkeley Lock, we all made our way down the Tennessee River and toward the Kentucky Lock. Whatever happens, we were going into it together. Being told there was at least a two hour wait at the lock, we leisurely motored along. Soon 14 boats, including ourselves, were anchored outside the lock doors waiting for the green light. At around 2pm our wish was granted and we all proceeded inside in the delegated order worked out over the radio. Larger boats were to line up along the wall as the smaller boats would raft up beside them. It seemed easy enough as everyone was given a buddy boat, but something went awry and, since I had to crank the anchor up manually, we ended up being the last boat in with no where to tie up. I threatened Duane to get through the doors no matter what as I was not waiting indefinitely for another opening. Once inside, the lock master bellowed over the loudspeaker for us to idle at the entrance as the doors slowly closed behind us. Once the door was closed, we noticed the last bollard in the back corner and hurried to get the line secure. It took about 45 minutes to lock through and then the whole troop headed the rest of the way to Green Turtle Bay Marina.

Upon approval, one by one we were given our slip assignments and proceeded as instructed. We desperately needed gas and a pump out and were elated to spot our welcoming committee, Renee and Pierre, on the dock . They had arrived on Shoreline Traveler a few days prior and we were greeted with a big hug. We planned to stay in Green Turtle for 2 weeks as Duane had a work obligation and I was going to visit family in Texas. With the last line secured in our slip, we both collapsed onto the couch relieved to stop moving for a while and excited to catch up with friends we hadn’t seen for so long in addition to the ones we had just met.

Calculations have been made and it has been determined that we burn more fuel when I hoist the anchor. Not really sure about the rationale, but since it was deemed to be more economical, I was more than happy to step aside and let the Captain crank away that morning as I observed from the comforts of the flybridge. The next three days we were on a mission to ultimately arrive in Alton, IL. Alton would be our last marina stop to fill up with gas and provisions before the 245 mile trek to Paducah, KY.

The river levels had been extremely high most of the season, and especially as of late with all the storms, so the wickets were down at the next two locks. The long and short of that meant that we could ride straight over the dam and not have to lock through which definitely saved us some precious time. The next day was warm, sunny and calm and we tied up to the Havana Nature Center free dock with the aid of some local boys fishing off the pier. They were very excited to lend a helping hand and were even more elated to receive a few bucks so they were able to treat themselves to McDonald’s up the road. As we were told, the only restaurant in town. Salty Dog had passed us along the way and was anchored just beyond the pier. We had exchanged pleasantries with Greg and Pam over the radio for the last few days as we anchored in proximity to each other a few times to end out a long day and looked forward to meeting them some day soon.

Thunderstorms hit the area overnight and we cast off the dock in the morning to rain and high winds. The Illinois River had so far proven to be temperamental as 3 foot waves challenged us the whole day. A new development in our travels is that I have begun to radio the tows we encounter to request a pass…either on the one(port) or on the two(starboard)… and have garnished the nickname “Skipper.” My new job has undoubtedly given us plenty to laugh about as we travel for hours along the river since my VHF conversations are not as regimented as the Captain would like. I usually sound like I’m calling up a friend to chat and most tow captains are very receptive to the banter. But the Captain is all business…”Copy that…Bella Donna out.”

That day we traveled as far West as we will on the entire trip once we passed Griggsville Landing, IL dropping anchor a few miles later behind Big Blue Island. The weather had cleared up and we were treated to a gorgeous sunset as we proceeded to barbecue under the moonlight reminding us of what this trip was all about. And then…

The next day I hit a log😔

The “log dodge” is one mental and physical challenge I did not welcome. The rest of the day I knew the Captain was not happy and we both eyed the bilge pump gauge to make sure the light didn’t suddenly illuminate signaling water flooding the boat. The Illinois River was very industrial with plenty of grain and oil mills off the banks. Tows passed us frequently… some 4 barges wide… which is why we speculated that some buoys were off station or missing completely only to be located on the water’s edge where they must have been dragged after getting in the way of the commercial traffic.

We had been discussing our gas situation and after much deliberation (with himself), the decision was made to take a right turn onto the Mississippi River and head to Port Charles Marina. Although there was a cost savings of about $80 in fuel, battling the Mighty Mississippi current upstream to locate the marina pretty much negated most of the savings as we burned an excessive amount of fuel in that 5 mile trip moving at 3mph. Oh well..you live and you learn. We relaxed on the boat that evening after a nice meal, refreshing shower and a bottle of wine and the Captain eventually stopped kicking himself for the bad decision. Well that is, until we passed by Grafton in the morning and realized there was a floating wine bar…then I kicked him for real.

The three hour trip to the Alton Marina was as pleasant as we could have asked for once the port engine got itself together…again. I had finally stopped cringing every time Duane went to switch her on, when, that morning, she decided to give us a problem and not turn over. Quickly jumping into action and getting into the “hole”, AKA engine room, the Captain figured out that the gas was not flowing, fixed her up, and off we went. The sun was shining and the four knot current on the Mississippi was now with us pushing us along nicely. Beautiful tree lined cliffs adorned the banks of the Mississippi strewn in shades of the Fall. Gliding into a covered slip, we disembarked to stretch our legs and take in the sights and make new friends. First, we were pointed in the direction of Fast Eddie’s, a local joint which did not disappoint. The burger was the best I have had in a long while and Duane would not stop raving about the shrimp as we indulged ourselves enjoying the Happy Hour specials. The bartender gave us a tip to head over to a real local establishment..Town City…for tacos and beer. Not wanting to pass up the experience, we made our way down the road. As we saddled up to the bar, we knew by the looks, this was not a place tourists stumble into by chance. The bartender was grilling up tacos in between pours and all seemed right in this picture. When he made his way in our direction, he made sure to ask if we were from the area. We briefly mentioned the Loop and that the previous bartender had sent us there. With a nod he asked if chicken was okay with us and served up the most unexpectedly mouthwatering tacos that, even though we were full, we just had to order two more. After a few beers we were on our way back to the dock. As Duane napped with a smile on his face and a full belly, I worked on the laundry which had accumulated the last few days. A few boats were in the marina and after the laundry was folded and the Captain rested, we went to introduce ourselves in person to Greg and Pam on Salty Dog. It’s so surreal on this trip how you follow, travel with or pass boats along the way and may not physically meet for days or even weeks…such was the case with Salty Dog. Pam and Greg were a wonderful couple who welcomed us aboard to chat about our boat and the experience we were having. We exchanged cards and were definitely looking forward to hanging out with our new friends in the future.

Duane’s stomach was now getting the best of him. So what was a First Mate to do…I walked him over to the Argosy Casino for chili cheese fries and wings. After I was satisfied with my $12 winnings from the slots, we strolled back to our abode to settle in for the night.

The next day was cold and rainy so Duane dusted off the sewing machine and proceeded to fix our fly bridge enclosure so we would be protected from the elements moving forward. Being the ultimate seamstress, he added a middle panel which had been non-existent on the trip so far. The prospect of not being pelted with rain and the bitter winds going forward was appealing to both of us as we accepted the fact that winter was coming. Later in the day we walked to a local grocery store and loaded up with supplies. After Alton, we were not going to be tied up in a marina until Green Turtle Bay in Grand Rivers, KY some 5 days from now. The owner was so thoughtful and had his son who worked the meat counter drive us back to the marina as to spare us from lugging our bags through the streets.

Back at the marina we went to say Hello to our old friends on Geru, Geoff and Ruth. We had not seen them since that fateful day on Lake Michigan which I still have nightmares about. We had decided to take off in the morning from Alton as a bad storm was approaching and they were staying for a few days waiting for some parts to be delivered so we parted ways again hoping to meet in warmer weather. On the walk back to get things organized for our morning departure, we noticed another Looper couple on the dock aboard Adagio. We had seen them traveling on NEBO so we decided to knock on the boat to introduce ourselves. Denise and Dave welcomed us aboard and, as they we leaving in the morning also, we coordinated with them on a departure time since there was a lock right outside the marina we needed to pass through. Going through the lock all at once was more optimal then going in drips and drabs and possibly waiting for hours. We would once again be traveling with new found friends and looked forward to getting to know everyone better.

Once it was light enough to see, each one of us untied from the rocky wall and proceeded in a line toward the Branden Lock and Dam. As traversing the locks seems to be old hat by now, the wait time idling outside the doors waiting for the green light is always a letdown. That day we had three locks to deal with before sunset and time was of the essence as we approached the formidable Marseilles Lock and Dam having waited an hour respectively outside the first two lock doors.

On approach to the lock, the head boat radioed the lockmaster to request passage. It was not a good omen when the lock master responded over 10 minutes later with a curt response basically telling us we had to wait. 45 minutes stretched into 2 hours which soon became 3. All the while we had the engines off only to bump them on when we drifted out of the channel for fear of running aground. Just as the three hour mark passed, the lock master radioed to alert us there was a tow and barge proceeding out of the lock in our direction which would take up the entire channel. Basically telling us we needed to clear a path, we all squeezed off to the side figuring we could hold our ground until the tow motored by and we were clear to move forward. How wrong we were!! Not a minute after we all started to maneuver toward the edge of the channel, we were told to proceed with urgency to tie up next to the stationary tow at the mouth of the lock. The interpretation we all understood from the hurried radio transmission was that the suction from the wash produced from the props of the tow exiting the lock would violently pull our boats into the side of the barge if we stayed where we were. Not fully understanding the severity of what could happen, Nautoncall and Knot Diggin proceeded to take off back up the channel to a safer area while the rest of us scrambled toward the idle tow to secure ourselves. Minutes seemed like seconds as the doors opened and the barge was bearing down on us. Duane spun the boat around as I held on to the side rails with both hands only letting go to throw lines to the awaiting tow workers who were racing around making sure all the boats were tied down. Why in the three hours we all battled to stay in the channel waiting for our turn in the lock did the lock master not ever broach the subject of doing this earlier is something none of us will ever grasp. In the end, the tow glided by without incident and we took a deep breath, gathered ourselves together and with bewilderment locked through. Well all of us except our two buddy boats …an integral part of Group 1.5…who now were stuck a mile upstream with no way to get around the tow and barge creeping their way.

• 

The sun was getting low in the sky and we arrived at Heritage Harbor Marina just as the sun was setting. Alas, our friends would not arrive until 11 that evening in the pitch dark aided by the Harbormaster, Jeremy, who went out on his boat with a spotlight to guide them in. Jeremy was not only helpful beyond measures, he was also extremely knowledgeable about the area from extensive first hand experience. He held a 4pm talk everyday giving boaters the in’s and out’s of our trip South to the Mississippi which was invaluable to those of us who have never traveled these waters before.

The next day with all of us safe in the marina and able to relax, we made plans to celebrate Canadian Thanksgiving which was ruined the day before. Jim and Wendy on My Everything had also arrived so what an amazing celebration Duane and I had with all our Canadian friends that evening. Lots of laughs, great food and drinks flowed as we chatted…and vented about daily mishaps…. for hours. Catherine and Chris were our gracious hosts that evening aboard their Catamaran, Two Loons. Our plan was to leave the next morning and proceed down the river …or so we had hoped that night.

The next morning I rushed through my routine of getting things organized for a long travel day. Duane did the same as he checked the oil level and the engines in preparation for the day ahead. Then came the dreaded words I had only heard once before…”We are not going anywhere.” I reluctantly told our friends we were having engine issues and to go on without us hoping that in a few hours Duane would have her running again and we would catch up. I waved as they drove off and sat very dejected on the steps of the galley willing the port engine to kick into gear. Hearing what sounded like marbles rattling around the transmission, we both were pessimistic in the diagnosis and knew this was not going to be as simple as changing a few spark plugs. One day turned into four and twenty plus hours of manual labor on the Captain’s part to get us back on track again. His fear was the transmission was shot, but after a consultation with the local mechanic it was determined the drive plate under the engine had possibly cracked and needed to be replaced. Of course the plate was in the most inconvenient location and the transmission had to be completely dismantled and the thousand pound hunk of metal, which was the port engine, had to be lifted and shifted back to remove and replace the plate. As savvy as he is with the electronics, Duane proved equally as resourceful as a mechanic. He meticulously removed each connection and part and, with some help from the First Mate (ME), we were able to wedge plywood under the engine and hoist it up and over to remove the broken plate. Our replacement part was being delivered the next day so we tried to cheer up and had dinner and drinks with Jim and Wendy who were departing in the morning. With the last of our travel buddies moving on and the part received, Duane got back to business and worked until after dark putting the puzzle back together. I made sure he was well fed and hydrated and gave words of encouragement and praise to keep him focused. Sometimes appreciated…sometimes not. Although our plans were derailed slightly, Heritage Harbor was a great place to be stuck so we could get ourselves back on track and we were grateful for all their hospitality.

After checking and rechecking the vitals, we were prepared to cast off in the morning. Settling into bed, we were both excited for what we will encounter on the next phase of our adventure. Alone for now, we will surely be meeting old and new acquaintances in the near future.

The next morning I woke up with more pep in my step than I had in days. Both engines started with a purr and as I untied the lines, we drifted back from the dock. Duane’s smile soon turned into fear as he realized he forgot to reconnect the shifter on the engine and we were floating aimlessly between the docks. I ran up to the flybridge to take the wheel and he quickly jumped in the engine room to avoid a disaster connecting the gear shifter just in time. One little thing overlooked in our excitement to leave could have proved extremely costly. We both called a do-over and turned into the channel and we were on our way.

We were no sooner under the first bridge when we had two barges in our path. We were back in the grove and squeezed right through with a wave and a Thank You. Starved Rock Lock and Dam was soon upon us and we brushed off the cobwebs and made sure the fenders and lines were ready. The lock through went off without a hitch and as the gates opened I secretly prayed that port started without an issue. It was a pleasant sound as she kicked into gear and we crept up to the tow itching to get into the lock after we departed with its full load. It was a little too close for my comfort, but the Captain had things under control. The rest of the afternoon was calm as the scenery spilled out around us in many shades of Fall and we sat quietly letting it all sink in. Well…Quiet except for the occasional debate on boat etiquette. Today’s topic…How the definition of “in” the garbage is so drastically different than “on” the garbage. Just as “under the bed” is not even remotely the same as “in the laundry bag. “

That night we settled into a nice anchorage behind Lower Henry Island. It was a pleasant sight to see two other Loopers at anchor, Salty Dog and Slow Bells, reassuring us we were not all alone. We fell fast asleep to the sound of carp splashing in the water and the hum of barges passing by.

The next morning our heart rates were steady and we were breathing easy again. Duane was glad we were at anchor and I was unable to hightail it off the boat maybe never to return the day before. We were very skeptical that the waters had settled overnight and planned to hang out on the hook for the day. However, Geoff and Ruth left the harbor earlier in the morning and assured us that the lake had calmed so we set off to Grand Haven mid-morning. We were planning on spending four days exploring and visiting with family and friends, so I was more than happy to move forward and get situated. The sheer terrifying exhilaration of the prior day was pleasantly replaced by complete tranquility. We tied up to the seawall in Grand Haven a few hours later.

There was an art show in town so we explored a few store fronts admiring the work and stumbled upon a few cocktail receptions in the process. Duane was happy to “store” hop all night indulging in free appetizers and champagne, but I requested we make our way to Grand Armory Brewing Company for BBQ, a sampling of some local craft brews and to enjoy the band. Reluctantly the Captain agreed as he proceeded to devour another finger sandwich. As we walked in the door of Grand Armory I knew, at best, I would only get two drinks out of this deal. The music was blaring and, as the bass vibrated through the floor, I was shot the “where are my ear plugs” look. We made a compromise and found ourselves at a rustic sports bar aptly named Tip-a-Few watching the Yankee game over burritos about an hour later.

The next day the sun was shining and the view from the breakwater on this side was a welcome reprieve. I wasn’t too weary about getting up close and personal with the lighthouse when I was on foot.

Later in the day our friends Darlene and Jeff, who we met in Charlevoix, came into town to pick up their boat, Nauti Dolphin, which was in the marina. Duane was ecstatic to see Jeff so he could fill him in on all the developments I was less than interested in or have heard ten times over. I was totally overjoyed to catch up with Darlene and meet her daughter,Kami, showing them pictures of our travels since we had last crossed paths. Walking over to The Kirby House for a bite to eat, we unknowingly discovered Duane’s next obsession. The Happy Hour ran until 6pm and, as well as having exceptional drink specials, the steak sliders were to die for. The building itself had some significant history dating back to 1873. As of present, it houses three different dining experiences on the lakefront which seems to entice visitors and locals alike.

A loose plan made over a year ago was also coming to fruition as my cousins, Mark and Laura, arrived into town for a visit. Not 10 minutes before, the wind started kicking up and the rain started falling. With Jeff’s help, Duane pulled the boat into a slip at the dock. Mark and Laura were not only coming to see us and the boat, but they were doing me a solid and bringing a case of wine to replenish our depleting supply.

After bidding Jeff and Darlene farewell and making a plan to meet up in a warmer climate, I gave Mark and Laura the 10 minute tour of Bella Donna and we caught up over a few drinks. Of course Duane felt obligated to share his new favorite establishment with as many people as possible, so off we went back to The Kirby House for dinner. As we ate, we chatted over drinks and they updated us on the family as we filled them in on our adventure which was only a thought when I last saw them in New York City. Back on the boat, we gave them a sample of the liquor we had purchased at the distillery up north on the lake. It was so good to see them and we realized they have been the only family or friends to visit us since leaving New York. We had a feeling everyone was holding out for the more tropical locales.

Strolling the beach the next morning, we watched surfers pick their set and ride the swells. Who knew that a lake would kick up that much action close to shore.

Jim and Wendy aboard their beautiful boat, My Everything, were tied up at the dock a few slips from us. Docktails were in order in addition to some well deserved tacos at Tip-a-Few. Their cat, Pumpkin, greeted us as soon as we stepped on board to exchange stories of close encounters and our plans to cross over to Chicago in the next few days.

Our last day in Grand Haven was spent making preparations to finish our trip on the lake. Although the views as we proceeded south were breathtakingly beautiful, we had our fill of the unpredictable weather on the lake. With the time crunch in the back of our heads as we were already into the first week of October, we had to move swiftly but were forbidden to leave until Duane made his final appearance at The Kirby House late that afternoon to fill his belly with some sliders.

We left the next morning with My Everything close behind. They travel more than three times our speed so their boat was soon out of our view as we bid them farewell as they passed along our port side. The lake was as placid as we have seen since we crossed over from Canada. Since the navigating would be relatively easy, I gave the Captain a break and took the wheel. Being in such mild conditions, we were able to push ourselves over 70 miles into St. Joseph.

All the establishments were pretty much closed by the time we disembarked from the boat and walked to town. We grabbed a drink at the local bar and made the decision to go one more town south to Michigan City, IN before heading to Chicago. This would cut our distance fully exposed on the lake in the event she took a turn for the worse and there was no possibility of turning back.

In the morning, Duane begged and pleaded to go to the marine store on the outskirts of town. Tom on Careb was also tied on the wall and not planning on departing until the following day and My Everything was zipping across to Chicago from here. Having no travel companions, I didn’t feel the need to torture the Captain and off to the marine store we went. We were back on the boat with lines untied by 11:30 and also a few items heavier.

Arriving in Michigan City, IN before 4pm, we adjusted our clocks to central time and tied up at the marina. The area was very industrial and, apart from the Calypso music from Matty’s Caribbean Bar, the sounds of rumbling freight trains surrounded us. We sat down and had a delicious meal on the patio of Fish Camp while checking on the weather forecast. The winds were still predicted to be light and blowing from the southwest. Although the waves would be hitting us on the beam, Captain Duane deemed them to be extremely manageable. We settled into bed with the green light to cross in the morning….