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Due to government downsizing in the late 1990s, we both faced potential job loss. To plan for this eventuality, we determined that we would sell everything, buy a big boat and sail around the world. Only one of us ended up without a job, but that was enough to encourage us to continue with our plan. We sold our home and many of our possessions, bought our boat, and moved forward with our plan.

The Occasional Navigator – Searching for a Boat

Annapolis Boat Show – October 7-10, 2000

We made it to Maryland on Saturday without any difficulty. The weather was co-operative, and the trees were in full fall colours, making for a very scenic drive. Darrel had downloaded some directions from the Internet on how to get into Lanham (all the motels in Annapolis were booked, so we stayed in a town about 20 miles out). We followed the directions precisely, and ended up in a quaint little residential area – probably near the home of the fellow who put the directions on the net. Not a problem – we just had to backtrack a little to return to the main strip of Lanham, where our Days Inn was likely located.

When trying to merge onto the main strip, Darrel found a little turn-off where he hoped to pull a U-turn. Oops. It was the on-ramp for the I95. A very busy inter-state highway. We made our exit quickly, with me scrambling to unfold the map again and get us back to Lanham. We found ourselves on a busy parkway taking us towards an airport, so we made our exit from that one quickly, with me still trying to figure out where we were on the map. Eventually, we make it back to Lanham, found the Days Inn, and WALKED to the restaurant that evening.

There were no white folk at the Red Lobster except for us and a couple from South Carolina.

Annapolis

The next morning (Sunday), my navigational skills were honed, and not only did we get to Annapolis with no problems, we also managed to find a McDonalds for an egg mcmuffin. We parked a few blocks from the boat show – for $20.00 U.S. – and picked up our complementary tickets to the show. What an event! The harbour was FULL of sailboats. We decided to look at the catamarans first, and never did make it to the mono-hulls.

We met a salesman who offered to take us on a demo – so we went for a sail in Chesapeake Bay. We also arranged with another salesman to show us used boats on the Tuesday. We had lunch in a marina restaurant where they were playing a football game with the Washington Red Skins playing. The Red Skins won.

Spent the early evening touring downtown Annapolis – lots of cute Marines. Ate a light meal at Subway (we were still full from lunch). Annapolis is a very well kept quaint little city with beautiful old buildings. Lots of tourists in for the boat show. And lots of cute Marines.

Lost Again

We thought getting back to the Days Inn would be fairly straightforward. We decided to take the quicker I50 instead of the scenic route we had taken in the morning. We got on with no problem, but the exits shown on our map didn’t match the exits on the interstate. That is our excuse for missing our exit. So we took the next exit, ended up on another parkway heading for another airport, took another exit off the parkway, merged back onto the I50, took what we thought would be the right exit (Martin Luther King Jr. Drive North) and landed safe and sound at the Days Inn.

Columbus Day

Monday was Columbus Day – a holiday for most but we noticed the garbage men were still collecting. We again took the scenic route into Annapolis, stopped at a 7-11 for coffee, then at Einstein’s Bagels for, yes, bagels. The guy sitting next to me at the window bar spilled BOTH his coffee and his juice (both LARGE), and just missed getting himself and me. This was just a hint of some of the luck we were going to have.

When we checked in for our complementary tickets to the boat show, they weren’t there. So we decided to hit the marine supply stores instead.

The U.S. Dollar

We found a great marine supply store, and even found the sextant we were looking for. And some great all-weather gear. And nifty travel clothing (quick-dry, no-wrinkle). They even had a handle with suction cups to keep you under water whilst cleaning the hull of your boat. We bought nothing. The prices were actually a little steeper than Canadian prices, and in U.S. currency. The exchange rate is such that a $2.00 U.S. toll bridge costs $3.00 Cdn. So a $200.00 U.S. sextant would cost $300.00 Cdn. Even the cute little gold sailboat tie tack couldn’t tempt us.

Washington

So we decided to go to Washington and tour around a bit. We had heard about “Taste of D.C.” that was happening on Columbus Day. We actually made it from Annapolis to Washington without getting lost, and found a public parking garage where you had to give the attendant your car and keys and let him take it away. We were a little nervous about it, but that is not what we should have been worried about. More on this later.

All of Pennsylvania Avenue was blocked off and set up with food tents and entertainment stages. A lady was standing on the corner and handing out Pepto-Bismol samples. “You’ll probably need these later,” she laughed. We laughed too, although not quite so heartedly as she did.

We could have been in Jamaica, except the weather was cold and there were no palm trees or beaches.

It was very festive. We bought $18.00 worth of food tickets, and had some very tasty and spicy samples. In the end, we didn’t need the Pepto-Bismol, just some Coke to wash down the rum cake.

We toured the city. We walked past the FBI Building and Canadian Embassy to the U.S. Capitol, then on to the Smithsonian Museum. We saw some neat sculptures in the Hirshborn Sculpture Garden, and then walked to the Washington Monument (the obelisk). It suddenly turned cold and began to rain. So we ran to a bus shelter and chatted with 3 homeless chaps. They were very curious about us, about Canada, and about how cold our winters are. They asked, “Why do you live there?” and we answered, “Someone has to cook supper for our son.” One of the fellows nodded and replied, “Family – important.”

The White House

We had forgotten our city map in the car, so we had to ask someone how to find the White House. Every street in Washington leads to the White House, but we couldn’t find it. And it was cold and windy. But we finally got there, took a picture, and then headed back to the car so that we could do the rest of the tour on wheels. We still wanted to see the Lincoln Memorial and the Reflecting Pool. We thought it would be easy.

The Lincoln Memorial

Between my poor navigating and Darrel not following directions, we missed the Li9ncoln Memorial the first time around. We got our bearings on Virginia Avenue, and I instructed Darrel to turn right on Constitution Avenue. I was busy plotting our course, and suddenly noted that the Washington Monument was on my right. It should have been on my left, but we shouldn’t even have been passing by it at that time. I got a bit dizzy trying to figure out how we got there, when Darrel finally admitted that he had turned LEFT on Constitution. No right turn allowed.

So we corrected our course and were heading DIRECTLY for the Lincoln memorial when Darrel pointed to the rear-left and said, “Look – there’s the Lincoln Memorial!” Then I got really dizzy. I kept studying the map trying to figure out how we could possibly be heading in the wrong direction, and cars were beeping at us, and the rain was beating on the windshield. Then I realized that Darrel had actually spotted the Franklin D. Roosevelt Memorial, and we HAD been on the right course for the Lincoln Memorial.

So we admired the FDR Memorial, and the Thomas Jefferson Memorial, and then headed back to Lincoln. Some of the routes were blocked off, so we had to get at it in a roundabout way. With cars beeping at us. And the rain beating on the windshield. And me getting dizzier. We got quite close to the memorial at one point, but not close enough for a good camera shot. But I still said to Darrel, “We should get a picture just in case.” Ha ha. It was a joke and we didn’t take a picture.

Well, Darrel turned right instead of left (the left route was blocked off) and we found ourselves heading over the Potomac River towards the Arlington Cemetery. Good, I had wanted to see it anyway. Instead of circling back the way we came, we took a right (mistake) and found ourselves on a fast-moving parkway. I said to Darrel – “We need to take a bridge back. Take any exit that takes you to a bridge.” Unfortunately, the bridge we took was on a freeway that was suffering from rush-hour traffic and a car accident. We crawled our way back into Washington. We never did get back to the Lincoln memorial. No picture.

The Boost

Finally, after getting lost one more time in downtown Washington D.C. (we were in the south-east quadrant and thought we were in the north-east quadrant), we found our way back to New York Avenue, heading back to Annapolis. We needed gas, and although the Mobil station’s prices were way more than any station in Annapolis, we had to fill up before the treck back.

There was a big old car in the pump across from us – a ’75 New Yorker that was having trouble getting started. The pretty blond at the wheel and her two male companions had commissioned another vehicle to give a boost, but it wasn’t working. The woman who had kindly pulled up to give them a boost said that she was in a hurry and had to leave. Then she left.

The blond rushed over to another vehicle that was filling up, but the gentleman said he had to get to his church because his parishioners were waiting for him. “You’re a Minister?” asked the blond. He must have admitted it, because she then yelled at him, “You’re a Minister and you won’t help your fellow man!?” He shrugged his shoulders and drove away.

Then the blond asked us if we could possibly give her a boost. “We have cables,” she said. In fact, she had two sets of booster cables set up. This obviously wasn’t a new problem for her. “I see you’re from Canada.” It was almost a dare. She said it in a way that said, “Prove that Canadians are decent folk.” And she added, “That man was a minister and he wouldn’t help us. Can you imagine?” Darrel said he would give her a boost. We didn’t have any parishioners waiting for us.

It took a few tried and many revs of our engine before hers finally caught. We all cheered. The blond was very grateful. Her two companions were very grateful. They were from New Jersey, and said something about what an ugly city Washington is, and off they drove, probably back to New Jersey.

That little delay proved to be costly.

The Big Mean Spool

We got back on New York Avenue, which turned into I50. It’s a busy interstate. But we had been on it a couple of times now, and knew which exit we were to take, so felt comfortable in the rush hour traffic. Darrel was paying close attention to traffic, and I was busy making notes in our travel log.

Then I heard Darrel say, with just a bit of panic in his voice, “Oh NO!” – two words you don’t want to hear when driving on a busy interstate. I looked up and saw two big spools rolling towards our car. They had fallen off of a communications utility truck that had just merged onto the I50. I wrapped my head in my arms, Darrel played dodge-the-spool while at the same time trying not to cause a 10-car pile-up on the I50, and then one of the spools hit the side of the car.

We were very lucky. The spool was nearly empty, and wasn’t travelling at a great speed. Darrel had been careful about handling our car amid all the other traffic, so no vehicles hit us. The utility truck stopped, a witness stopped, a State Trooper stopped, and all the business was handled professionally and quickly. After half an hour, we were on our way again, with a badly bruised rear passenger door, dented rear fender, and broken tail light. Our heads were intact.

A night at the Days Inn

We ate at the motel that night. We were the only ones in the restaurant. The waitress laughed very easily, and found everything we said funny. We were more tired and punchy than witty, but she lifted our spirits. She let us sample the jerk chicken before we ordered it. She gave me a free glass of wine. She was tired after a 12-hour day, but still took the time to smooth the wrinkles from our brows.

Another morning in Annapolis

Again, we took the scenic route into town and stopped again at the 7-11 and at McDonalds. We knew how to find them. We met up with a salesman who showed us two used catamarans. One was too old and one was in rough condition. But it helped us focus on what exactly we’re looking for. Something newer in better condition. We exchanged business cards with the salesman, said adios, and headed back to Ottawa. Nice drive home – didn’t get lost, enjoyed the fall colours, and paid $3.00 Cdn. for the toll bridge. Had to wait 20 minutes due to construction delays. Finally got into Canada and bought hot chocolate at par.

Favourite Quotes

“Can you tell us how to get to the Holocaust Memorial?” We were lost at the time, and someone asked US for directions.

“Where you all from?” We were drinking at the bar beside a couple from South Caroline. They talked just the way we imagined Southerners would talk.

“Je m’appelle Jim Maple.” We were sharing a table in another bar with a couple of locals. They wanted to now if we spoke French. Jim amused us with his je m’appelle je m’appelle (Jim Maple) line. We bought him a beer.

“You guys sound more like Americans. You don’t say ‘eh’.”

“Come try my clam chowder!” A young woman at “A Taste of D.C.” was trying very hard to draw in some clients. We’re glad she caught our attention. It was very good chowder.

“Cookies! Cookies! Big chocolate chip cookies!” Another aggressive salesman. Again, we listened and were glad we did.

“I’m okay – I’m sure the wind will dry me quickly.” A young woman had fallen off one of the boats at the show. It was windy and about 8 degrees.

In closing, we didn’t buy a boat, or a sextant, or a watch with a barometer, just a bottle of gin.

A Fair Exchange: A Home for a Boat

From a letter of January 3, 2001:

So, to explain our new address: We sold our condominium so that we would have the cash ready to buy our sailboat. Living in a small apartment is an incredible money-saver. We are on a strict savings plan so that we will be able to afford to retire in September 2005. However, boat shopping is proving to be a little expensive. We had a four-day trip to a Maryland boat show that also involved a car crash, and this month we are checking out marinas in St-Martin (an arid little island in the Caribbean). There was a boat for sale in Portugal that we considered checking out. If we don’t find our boat soon we might have to delay retirement a year or two.

We think we know what kind of boat we want – a PDQ 36 or Prout 37. They are both catamarans, with the PDQ being Canadian built and the Prout being British made. We have a broker working for us who thinks we should be buying a catamaran built in France, but the French boats are much pricier.

Traditional sailors think we are nuts to be going catamaran versus mono-hull, but we have done our homework and are convinced. We plan to be living on the boat for many years, so do not want to spend our lives on a slant. Cats provide a level playing field, and they don’t sink (although they will turn upside down – but they will still be level). Cats are faster, easier to handle, have much more light in the cabin, and can anchor in shallow bays. With a cat, you can pull up on a sand beach to scrape barnacles from your bottom (the boat’s bottom, that is). Cats have more outdoor area and better interior layouts. The designs we’re looking at also have an engine for each hull, providing better manoeuvrability and also back-up power if one engine happens to fail. But yes, we’ll admit, they’re not traditional.

A book that we read that helped sway our opinion: “Sailing Promise: Around the World in a Catamaran” by Alayne Main – a story about a doctor and her husband who learned a lot of lessons while circumnavigating.

So life is pretty simple right now – empty nest (Dylan has moved to Red Deer), and smaller nest. We still own Tamika and spend most of the summer on the Big Rideau Lake. We plan to sell her once we have our sailboat.

Annapolis October 2001 – Still Searching for a Boat

The Drive

It was again a perfect time of year to travel through northern states. The trees were in full fall colours. The sky was grey on the trip down, and I found it to be a great backdrop for the trees – I think the colours were that much more vivid as a result.

The Company

Our good friends Hugh and Jocelyn accompanied us. They brought homemade cookies, peanut brittle and other treats. They provided tremendous counsel and emotional support when we were trying to determine if we should put an offer on a boat.

The People

We met some wonderful people – in restaurants, in hotels, at the boat show, in service stations. Everyone was friendly and chatty. No one appeared paranoid or angry. Even on the day of the first bombing of Afghanistan, people continued along in a polite and fairly cheerful fashion. “What else are you going to do?” asked the guy next to me at Cantler’s Seafood Restaurant. He was pounding the hell out of a crab at the time. He had lost his wife to cancer in June and had already discovered that you just keep going.

The Flag

The Star and Stripes were everywhere. On cars, on buildings, in windows, on boats. Often vertical rather than horizontal, which struck us as strange. One fellow explained to us that, unlike the proud Canadians north of the border, Americans are usually reluctant to wave their flag (a comment that didn’t ring quite true with us), but that September 11 changed all that.

The Food

Seafood galore. Crab cakes, more crab cakes, blackened tuna, oyster stew, crab chowder, fish and chips. Fast food on the trip home.

The Hotels

You get what you pay for. We hadn’t paid very much.

Baltimore

A very interesting city. Old and big, with wonderful architecture. But we also drove through some neighbourhoods that were very bleak. Actually, there were too many bleak neighbourhoods. Not too many flags flying in them. And they were very dark. We could only speculate on the reasons why. Could no one afford their power bills?

Annapolis

Didn’t see as many cute sailors as last trip.

The Boats

Lots of them. We looked very closely at three used boats – one too old, one too expensive, and one just right. We put an offer on the “just right” one, but it had already been sold to a lower bidder. We didn’t act fast enough. A lesson learned.

The Border

If you take a trip to the USA, take your passports and don’t get out of your car at customs unless they tell you to. USA guards are friendlier than the Canadian guards, but they have guns. It’s surprisingly harder getting back into Canada than getting in the USA.

Florida

Darrel has a business trip to Florida next week – Orlando. There is a “just right” boat for sale, located about 3 hours from Orlando, so he’s going to check it out.

Fort Lauderdale 2001 – Still Searching

From an e-mail to family dated November 13, 2001:

We’re heading south again to look at some more boats. The Canadian dollar is not in very good shape, but it looks like it could get a lot worse. It’s hard to know what to do. It appears that the consensus is “buy while you still can”, so off we go.

We’re leaving for Fort Lauderdale on Wednesday morning, bright and early, and will arrive in time to find our hotel, the marina, a good restaurant, and our hotel again. Always a challenge for us. Thursday and Friday will be serious boat-hunting days, with Saturday reserved for calculating and decision-making. In between, we’ll look for good restaurants and our hotel again.

On another subject, we’re investigating growing our own sprouts. They will be a healthy addition to the fish and rice diet we’ll have on the boat. We plan on growing them in mason jars that have mesh lids. Any hints or recipes will be greatly appreciated.

From an e-mail to family dated November 20, 2001:

We found our perfect boat. Her name is CamCat and she is a 1997 37’ Privilege Catamaran. To make a long story short – our highest offer wasn’t good enough. You are probably as disappointed as we are – now there will be more trips, more e-mails home. It seems endless. In the meantime, we’re having fun.

WE BOUGHT A BOAT!

In February 2002, we got a call from our broker who let us know that the owner of Camcat was dropping the price for the Miami boat show in March. We told our broker that we would place an offer and gave him our starting bid. He placed it for us, and came back that evening with an unreasonable counter-offer. We told him that the price was beyond our means, and informed him of the absolute highest price we would go. He wasn’t optimistic, but put forward our offer.

He came back that same evening and told us that our offer had been accepted. Camcat was ours!

BRINGING CANKATA HOME FROM FLORIDA – JUNE 2002

June 15-25:

We spent 10 days in Fort Lauderdale. This wasn't the plan -- it should have been only 3 days. But between thunderstorms, tardy repairmen, mechanical problems and a disorganized Captain Scott, we were considerably delayed. In the end, we still arrived at our home marina before our vacation was over, and we didn't get hit by any hurricanes, so it worked out okay.

June 25-27

At last! We were on the ocean. We left in the wee hours (1:30 a.m.), and it was wonderful to watch the lights of Fort Lauderdale fade in the distance. Our helm watches were arranged as follows: Loretta & Darrel - 9:00 p.m. until 3:00 a.m., Scott and Erika: 3:00 a.m. until 9:00 a.m., then we each had 3 hours during the day. It worked great. We had following seas (the waves were pushing us to our destination) and we set our course in the Gulf Stream, which was moving along at about 5 knots, so we made terrific time.

Sitting at the helm in the middle of the night in the middle of the sea, amidst rolling seas, while the rest of the crew is sleeping, is a very peaceful experience. We had to keep alert for fishing boats, naval vessels, or anything else that might get in our way (we don't have radar yet), but most of the time I was looking at the stars, singing "Moon Shadow" to myself.

June 27-30

We had to pull in at Beaufort, North Carolina in the evening of the 27th to avoid a bad storm and to get more fuel. We had used the engines more that we had wanted because the winds were blowing us off course, and using the sails alone would have lengthened the trip considerably. So although our tanks are large and our fuel consumption is efficient and even though we were carrying 7 jerry cans with extra fuel, we still needed to get more. Then Captain Scott plotted our course through the intra-coastal waterway up to Norfolk, West Virginia, at which point we would head out the Chesapeake Bay back into the Atlantic, where we would stay until New York.

Using the intra-coastal, however, is perhaps more unpleasant than a storm at sea. Tedious, dirty, expensive. After years on our beautiful and friendly Rideau Canal System, we found the sights and experiences in the US disappointing. The water is a rich dark brown from the tannins of the vegetation, and CanKata was stained terribly. We still haven't got her entirely clean. The marinas are either expensive (see "Haverstraw") or undesirable (see "R.E. Mayo") and the other boaters on the system weren't always as considerate as they could be (see "Zazu"), although I guess this is a universal complaint.

Norfolk is impressive if you are impressed by military presence. Lots of massive naval vessels, and I understand there would have been lots more if they hadn't been pulled into service. Chesapeake Bay was huge, hazy and busy, and we were relieved to once again get back on the ocean.

June 30 - July 2

It was so much more relaxing to be at sea. Inter-coastal navigation isn't Scott's strong suit, and he was pretty frenetic when we were on inland waters. He was in his element at sea, and all of us benefitted from his calmness. He slipped nicely into the mentor role and Darrel and I were more than happy to listen to him as he imparted all his nautical knowledge. Our timing was going to bring us into New York City in the middle of the night, so, to avoid this, Scott took time out to give us some sailing practice. Darrel and I got lots of hands-on training, plus we managed to kill enough time so that we arrived at the Big Apple in the morning light. Rush hour, unfortunately, but at least we were able to get diesel, some charts, and then say "adios" to Scott and Erika. It was neat to see the Statue of Liberty, but spooky to not see the twin towers.

It was a very busy harbour, so we scooted out as quickly as we could.

July 2-7

Darrel took me out for my birthday dinner at Haverstraw Marina. There were two other women there also celebrating birthdays so it was quite festive. The next morning we had to get our mast unstepped, or stepped-down (still haven't quite got the lingo) because the next stretch of rivers and canals had fixed bridges too low for our mast. It took 4 men, a crane, and Darrel and me watching like hawks -- well, maybe not like hawks. Actually, we should have been watching closer than we did, as we were to discover later.

The sites along the Hudson River are numerous and noteworthy -- Sing Sing prison, the Vanderbilt Estate, West Point - just to name a few. I spent most my time looking at charts and plotting waypoints on the GPS, and missed many of them. People wondering how to spend a summer vacation would not go wrong by planning a tour along the Hudson. No need to pack your swimsuit, though.

The Erie Canal is boring and a lot of work. Lock after lock, not much to see. We celebrated July 4 by going through 6 locks, and it was surprisingly quiet. We were just outside of Waterford for the night, and heard some of the fireworks. We did 10 locks the next day, 6 the following. We arrived at the entry point to Oneida Lake just before supper, and were dismayed to find the little resort town of Sylvan Beach just hopping and all the docks plum full with July 4 weekenders on their boats. We luckily met a Good Samaritan whom we rafted up to for the night (see “Mike”).

The next morning we crossed Oneida Lake -- an uncomfortable trip given the poor visibility, numerous shoals, large waves and the fact that our mast was down, resting on our bow. So we just took it slow and arrived safe and sound in Brewerton almost 4 hours later. Eight more locks and we finally arrived at Oswego.

July 7-9:

We didn't stay at the marina in Oswego, but chose to tie up along the public sea wall ($15 a night) so had lots of people stopping by to chat and tour the boat. July 4 celebrations were still going strong, so we had live bands and fireworks to entertain us. We booked an appointment with the marina to have our mast stepped (put back up) in the morning. Another catamaran had theirs done just before us, and the owner warned us to be prepared to do a lot of the work ourselves (darn, why hadn't we paid more attention in Haverstraw).

So there was just one guy with Darrel and me to put back together what it took 4 guys to take apart. It took nearly 3 hours, but we did it -- and did a good job, too. Darrel and I then took CanKata back to the sea wall and reinstalled the sails. It had been another long and hard day, so we finished it off with a peaceful walk through the town and 2 big milk shakes.

July 9:

We left Oswego in the early morning to cross Lake Ontario in extremely light winds, so we didn't get to use the sails. Our log entry for 1500 reads:

"We have arrived!

French Bay Marina

Clayton, NY

Mooring Ball #12

N 44 14.410

W 076 06.133"

We paddled our dinghy into town, announced our arrival to Immigration, hit the hardware store, liquor store and grocery store, and then settled back into the boat for g&ts and a steak and corn-on-the-cob supper. We had arrived.

July 10-13:

We explored our new territory, cleaned the boat, did some more cleaning, more exploring, practiced sailing, then were picked up on Saturday by our good and generous friends Hugh and Jocelyn. They drove us to the apartment, which is no longer "home". We go "home" on the weekends, to CanKata.

THE PEOPLE:

Scott: Our American captain. We had been told by a number of reliable people that Scott was the best person to get us up to New York City. And he was, but he drove us CRAZY. He has a lot of energy, loves to talk (loudly), is disorganized, is a show-off, was always very late for his appointments with us, and can be pretty crude and rude. A little like Duddy Kravitz. But the guy knows mechanics, electronics, electrical stuff, how to navigate, how to sail, and how to cook. And he taught Darrel and me more than we imagined we could learn.

Erika: Scott's crewmember from Quebec. Not only is she not of the same species as Scott, but I doubt that they come from the same planet. Erika is as quiet as Scott is loud. She is thoughtful, careful, unobtrusive, and I got the impression that she would like to be invisible. She doesn't speak much English, and is much younger than we are, so we had trouble getting any conversations rolling. Erika loves the sea. She would sit at the bow for long periods of time just watching the waves roll. I think she was more thrilled than we were, if that's possible, when the dolphins came along. She certainly did her share of the work - cooking, doing dishes, keeping watch at the helm, tidying lines, helping with docking. And listening to Scott.

Keith: The diesel repair guy. Filthy dirty. Big black boots, grease from head to toe, and totally oblivious to the fact that (a) he was dirty and (b) CanKata was clean. So, when he finally left after 5 hours of sloppy mechanical repairs and maintenance, (a) he was dirtier and (b) CanKata was a mess.

Bob: The sail maker. A darn good sail maker, too, but a lousy problem solver. His solution to everything was "let me sew it", even when it concerned items that shouldn't necessarily be sewn together (e.g. zippers). This proved to be troublesome when we were finally at sea and trying to raise the mainsail to outrun a bad storm that was fast approaching. It was nearly impossible to raise the sail, and, when the storm caught up with us, nearly impossible to bring the sail down. Bob had sewn an extra piece of hardware onto the sail, and it was binding. We have unstitched Bob's handiwork and the mainsail now raises and lowers like a breeze.

Clyde: The security guard at the Fort Lauderdale marina, where we spent our first week of vacation waiting for Scott to get his act together. Clyde is from Trinidad and complained to us about the USA's loose immigration policies. He also mentioned to us that he wife doesn't like Bush, and at election time had warned her husband, "If that man gets in, a war is going to break out". That gave me goose bumps and reminded me of an Ottawa taxi driver who had said to me, "If that man (Bush) gets in, watch things flair up in the middle-east".

Jeff: The refrigeration guy. He fixed both our fridge and freezer (took a couple of visits, which was typical performance for our repair guys) and came up with a great suggestion for air conditioning. Knowing our restricted budget, he knew we wouldn't be interested in a conditioner for the whole boat, so he suggested a scaled-down system for the master berth (with potential to divert it to the salon during the day) at a cost of less than $1500 US. We might look him up in 2004 when we plan to pass through Florida.

Steve: The zinc guy. In our log, I have two unhappy faces drawn beside Steve's entry. Steve's simple job of replacing our zincs turned into a very complicated and expensive job when he broke our starboard shaft. (To be fair, it wasn't Steve's fault -- it was metal fatigue). He did it on Thursday, June 20. We should have been well out into the Atlantic by that time. The broken shaft meant that we had to (1) order a new shaft, (2) get the boat hauled, (3) spend hours replacing the shaft. This cost us lots of money and delayed our departure by 4.5 days. Clyde the security guard was very sympathetic.

Zazu: Not actually a person, but a big mean boat. Passed us on two different occasions and knocked us around with her wake. Scott used the VHF to let Zazu know exactly what he thought of her. The second time, the wake contributed to us getting slightly grounded in a shallow river. We managed to maneuver out of the situation with no problem or damage. If our boat could have gone any faster, I'm sure Scott would have caught up to Zazu and somehow given her a lesson about no-wake zones. Scott's a tickler when it comes to rules of the sea.

Mike: A 30-something fellow we met in Sylvan Beach, New York who let us raft up to his boat. Otherwise we would have had to backtrack for an hour to another dock. Sylvan Beach was very busy on July 6 still celebrating July 4. Mike talked to us for a while and fell in love with our sailing plans. He has decided that once his four kids are grown up, he wants to do the same thing. He gave us a special bottle of wine and asked us to open it when we are in the Caribbean and make a toast to his dream.

WEATHER:

It rained so much in Florida that the houses and streets were flooded. It didn't rain constantly, but when it fell, it was buckets. When we hit New York State, they were in drought conditions so the marina we stayed at wouldn't let us wash the salt off the boat. We were able to wash ourselves, which was a good thing considering the docks were long and winding and metal and the weather was about 100 degrees. We had hot weather for most of the trip.

We didn't hit cool weather until we were in Lake Ontario. That was the first place where the water was decent enough to swim in. But it was too cold. We spent four weeks on the water and never once went in it.

MARINAS:

Coinjock - A great place to order a steak. I ordered seafood (they're a marina, after all) that was okay but Darrel's big chunk of beef looked much better. Scott went missing at this marina. We were supposed to leave bright and early in the a.m. to catch a bridge opening, so we woke Scott at the appropriate time. He said he wanted a quick shower, and then disappeared for an hour. Not only did we miss the first bridge opening but also the second one after getting stuck (see "Zazu").

R.E. Mayo - Not really a marina, but actually a fish cannery. We were running behind and it was getting dark and, looking at the chart, this looked like a safe place to tie up. However, as we pulled up to the dock, even Erika had something to say about the undesirability of the place. A fisherman helped us tie up and said, with a strong southern drawl, "You think the miskitas are bad naow, just you wait til after sunset!" There were dead fish floating in the murky river, the dock was dilapidated, the fish canning equipment on shore was moaning and creaking and making all sorts of other noise. Although Captain Scott didn't want to navigate the river in the dark, his crew over-ruled him. Near mutiny. We safely made our way to a clean and quiet anchorage a few miles away, and had a peaceful mosquito-free night.

Haverstraw - The waterway guide said this marina would cost us an outrageous $2.00 a foot. They actually charged us $2.50 a foot. When we questioned the price, they said, "It's the 4th of July weekend". This was on a Tuesday. And then they wouldn't let us wash our boat. We showered and did laundry and got lost in their maze of docks 4 times.

MOST FRIGHTENING MOMENT:

Not a one. Darrel and I felt very comfortable at sea, even in bad weather (which was infrequent).

MOST DELIGHTFUL MOMENT:

When we said good-bye to Captain Scott. We greatly appreciated all his help and knowledge, but it was sweet to see him off. We left him in New York City after having purchased the airline tickets for his and Erika's return flights to Fort Lauderdale. They were first going to see a Vanessa Williams concert (their expense). It was hard to get Scott off the boat. Erika and I hurriedly packed most of his stuff for him (not too delicately, either) then had to scrounge through all of his stuff to find his red-white-and-blue neckerchief that he wanted to wear for the July 4 celebrations. Then, after we loaded all of their belongings onto the dock, Scott decided that he wanted a beer before leaving. We rolled our eyes, bit our tongues, watched him guzzle his beer, and then gave a silent cheer as we pulled away from the dock without him.

Actually, the most delightful moments were with the dolphins. When the last pod left us, I stood on the bow for a few moments, wishing that they would return. I telepathically called out to them, "Hey -- you didn't even say good-bye!" At that moment, one of them came back to the bow, did one last dive for me, and then scurried off. Eerie.

THINGS WE DON'T EVER WANT TO HAVE TO DO AGAIN:

- Spend any extended length of time with Captain Scott

- Let any repairmen on our boat

- Meet up with Zazu on a narrow waterway

- Cross Oneida Lake with our mast strapped to our bow

- Go anywhere near R.E. Mayo fish cannery

WHAT WE LEARNED:

- A lot about Yanmar diesel engines. Darrel way more than me. "Impeller" is a word we use often now. We change oil more often than bed sheets.

- How to siphon fuel without getting a mouthful of it.

- A lot about CanKata's refrigeration system. For instance, if a small once-living thing gets stuck in the intake it can become very stinky. And, in the middle of the night, the sound of a malfunctioning refrigeration system has the same effect as a cry from Dylan when he was a baby.

- How the boatswain (bos'n) chair works. Got Darrel to the top of the mast with no problem.

- That it is essential to carry spare parts, like belts and gaskets and filters and especially fuses, if you want power. We blew the main fuse using the electric windlass (pulling up the anchor after a storm).

- Hot canned stew tastes very good in the middle of the night in the middle of the sea.

- You can get earaches from being dehydrated. Aspirin and lots of water help.

- Wal-Mart in the US does not have weird prices, e.g. $3.72, $5.84, $2.47. All prices end in the usual 99.

- When you spend July 1 at 38 degrees North and 074 degrees West, you don't need fireworks.

- If you boat too closely to a nuclear power plant in the US, a police boat will suddenly appear and tell you to get away.

- People who live in places like Poughkeepsie and Schenectady are very friendly and more than happy to tell you how to correctly pronounce their town's name.

- It takes CanKata about a day to go the distance you can go in one hour in a car. Good thing we'll never be in a hurry.

QUOTES:

"Honk" - which Canadian truckers did when we were boating alongside the highway in New York State.

"These fenders float" - Loretta, after a long, hot, dirty day going through locks. My plan was to submerge the fenders to soak then clean them. Damn things wouldn't sink. Like I said, it was a long day.

"This boat in these waters is just like a black person at a KKK meeting" - a comment about our catamaran by a marina guy in North Carolina.

"If you don't like the wake, buy a condo!" - overheard on the VHF radio. Probably Zazu.

"This is the life for us" - Darrel and Loretta, while at sea.

Leaving For Good

September 2005: We have left Canada for good. All our land-based possessions have been sold, we have cancelled our health care, cell phone, library card, subscriptions and memberships, and now we have very few links with the land of maple syrup, beaver-tails and Mounties.

We have been preparing for this moment for 8 years. We are more than ready. How long will we be sailing? – For as long as we are able. As long as our health, finances, and spirits hold up, and as long as CanKata remains safe and sound, we will not plan on returning.

Returning to CanKata

It will be good to see CanKata again. She has been waiting for us in Trinidad for six months – carefully tended to by Fanny and her crew. We are anxious to see how she weathered the summer, with its intense heat and humidity. Will she be moldy? Will there be pests aboard? Will the engines run smoothly after sitting idle for so long?

We’ll give her a thorough check and let you know how she’s doing.

CanKata Safe and Sound – late September 2005

We have checked her thoroughly and are pleased to announce that CanKata survived the six months “on the hard” like a trooper. However, we had made of list of items for repairs and had arranged for an agent to take care of them with the various trades, but only engine repairs were done (which is good – we would have been on the hard that much longer if the engines weren’t running). We were lucky and were able to get the bottom painted and some fibreglass repairs done right away, but things like stainless steel repairs, new trampolines, sail cover mending, and refrigeration repairs will get done over time. We’ll tell you about the water maker install a little later on.

Finding Room – late September

One huge challenge that we face on CanKata is finding room for everything. We had been disappointed to discover, when we left Canada, that we didn’t have enough room in our luggage for all the Canadian Tire blue shop towels that we had bought for the boat. Good thing – we don’t have room for the few that we brought anyway. Just yesterday I tried to reorganize all our first aid supplies, but ended up with less room. A spare bottle of rubbing alcohol has since been relocated to Darrel’s oil and lubricant locker, and I amalgamated 3 boxes of band-aids into one. I kept the bottle of Witch Hazel but am still baffled as to what use it will be (what that is?).

So, once again, we are giving things away. Our wok, some shoes, binders, a hair-trimming kit, and numerous margarine containers quickly disappeared from the marine laundry room after we put a “Free” sign on them. But we still have Darrel’s flannel robe. Yes, flannel robe. Three times it went into the free box, three times we retrieved it. Sometimes Darrel retrieves it, sometimes I retrieve it. Why we think we need to keep his flannel robe is certainly a puzzle. Is it the sentimental value? – are we worried about hypothermia? – will the evenings in the Mediterranean be cool? Who knows? But any visitors to CanKata who find that their luggage won’t fit their flannel pyjamas – don’t worry: we have a nice robe we can lend you.

Water, Water Everywhere – late September 2005

Our water maker is installed and operating. The install started smoothly. Then the electrician arrived. Darrel questioned the gauge of wire he was using. The electrician said not to worry.

When everything was finished and it was time to test the water maker, it wouldn’t work.

The electrician said maybe there was something wrong with the motor, or maybe our batteries were dying. Darrel pulled out Nigel Calder’s electrical manual and showed the electrician what gauge of wiring he should have used. “You can’t believe everything you read”, was the electrician’s response.

After two days of testing and fiddling, it was determined that a better gauge of wiring was required. We are now able to produce, in one hour, over 8 gallons of pure water from seawater. And we believe everything Nigel Calder has written.

Finding Alaté

On our trip last year from Canada to Annapolis, we went a large part of the way with Dale and Rita from Alaté. Rita and I cried when we said good-bye in Annapolis, and we have kept in touch through e-mail. On our first day in Trinidad, guess who came knocking on our door? It was so great to see Dale and Rita again. They are spending a number of months in Trinidad, waiting out the hurricane season like many other cruisers, anxious to head up into the Caribbean in late November. Unlike us, who are anchored out in a bay and relying on solar and wind energy, they are enjoying the comforts of a marina with electricity, a swimming pool, air conditioning, Saturday Mexican Train dominoes, and Internet access – a different kind of cruising life than what we have chosen.

While enjoying the comforts of Alaté the other day, we were given the opportunity to admire Rita’s homemade flags. For each country that Alaté has visited, Rita has sewn that country’s flag. (We cruisers fly these “courtesy” flags from our shrouds). She is quite the craftsman. Many of the flags have intricate detail, which Rita has hand-drawn with fabric paint. She has also sewn a number of sundresses from the beautiful yet affordable fabrics available in Trinidad. Then we got to admire all the beadwork she has been doing. Dale spent time with Darrel passing along mechanical, electrical and domino tips and printing us a bunch of Sudoku puzzles. We always leave the company of Dale and Rita richer in knowledge and in awe of their capabilities.

Early to bed, early to rise – October 2005

Darrel and I were always a little embarrassed about how early we went to bed when we were living in Canada. We buffered the embarrassment of being in bed before 10:00 by explaining that we were “up and at ’em” before 6:00 in the morning.

So now we are retired and living in the land of 12/12 – roughly 12 hours of daylight and 12 hours of dark, day in and day out. In fact, the bay we are anchored in has a high range of hills to the west, so the sun disappears shortly after 4:00 p.m.

On CanKata, we do our best to conserve electricity. When at anchor, our solar panel and wind generator provide us with a decent amount of energy, and our diesel engines also give our batteries a good charge, but our refrigeration is a heavy consumer. So when the sun goes down, so do we, so that we don’t have to burn valuable electricity lighting up the cabin. We first spend an hour or two on the bow of CanKata, enjoying the cool breeze after an invariably hot day. Then we tuck ourselves into our berth and switch on a small reading light and read away until some ungodly hour – like maybe 8:30 or so, and then it’s lights out.

Both of us are up at different times in the middle of the night to perform anchor check and maybe get in a bit more reading. If there is a rain shower, Darrel closes hatches and sets out the buckets to catch rainwater. I like to star gaze and spot satellites. We both are generally sound asleep when the sun rises, but drag ourselves out of bed to get a couple of hours work done before the heat gets unbearable (see “Managing the To Do List”).

We are amazed that we got by with so little sleep when living in Canada.

Footnote: Regarding “up and at ’em” … When our son, Dylan, was just a little fellow, I would wake him with a gentle shake and a whispered “up and at ’em”. One day, he asked me, “Mom, for girls would you say ‘up and Eve’?”

Managing the To Do List – October 2005

In CanKata’s Maintenance Log Book, there is quite an extensive To Do List. Our goal is to have everything completed before Christmas. But the days are very hot so we try to limit physical labour to early morning or shortly after sunset.

So yesterday, this is how I tackled the list. I noticed that one of the items is to polish the stainless steel. “What stainless steel needs polishing?” I asked Darrel. “All of it”, was his response. “And what would I polish it with? – Brasso?” “You can use boat polish”, he said.

Then I moved onto the next item – clean the trampolines. “Are we replacing the trampolines?” I asked. “Yes, someday”, Darrel answered. So I asked, “Do I need to clean the old ones if we are replacing them?” He replied, “Well, I guess that depends on when we are replacing them”.

I moved onto the next item – polish the windows. “I guess I can’t polish the windows while the solar screens are on”, I commented. We’ll probably leave them on until Christmas, at which time we’ll be further north and the sun won’t be as hot.

By this time, I have worked up a thirst and suggest to Darrel that we take a pause for refreshment, after which we agree that it is too hot to do any more work. Out comes the scrabble game and I make a mental note to review the To Do List after the sun drops.

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A Month of Thunder – October 16, 2005

We have now been in Trinidad a month. We had planned on being here for a shorter time frame, but we are having good luck with finding parts and tradesmen and thought we should take advantage of it. Our To Do List is gradually getting shorter, and in a few weeks we should be able to move on. Right now we are awaiting new trampolines and a couple more solar panels.

While we are waiting here, one particular treat we are enjoying is the thunder. Never in our lives have we heard so much. Our little bay doesn’t catch many storms, but the tropical “waves” like to pass us good and close, and they grumble fiercely as they head to other destinations. At night we see a lot of lightening. Darrel and I are both storm chasers at heart, so life couldn’t get much better for us. Mind you, if we didn’t have the hills in our bay to protect us, maybe we would look at the storms differently.

When it does rain, we catch all the water we can. We have five buckets that we place strategically under canopy drips. We use the water for cleaning the boat, doing laundry, and for the occasional bath (meaning we only bath occasionally).

We should tell you a bit about Trinidad. Its first settlers were the Arawak who were killed and eaten by the Caribs who were killed off by the Spanish who were beaten up by the French who were put in their place by the British. Trinidad and Tobago became independent from England in 1962 and became a republic in 1976. The population of 1.3 million is every colour in the book, from black to brown to white and everything else in-between. The people are beautiful, courteous and friendly. They are having a problem with the occasional kidnapping of East Indians, but have called in the FBI and Scotland Yard, so maybe that will stop. The Indians are targeted because they are a close-knit community and always pull together to find the ransom money.

Trinidad is much like Saskatchewan in that it doesn’t see the need for using Daylight Savings Time. Weather-wise, Trinidad is nothing like Saskatchewan.

We are spending our time anchored in a bay close to the community of Chaguaramas. It takes us about an hour on CanKata to get into town, but only 15 minutes by dinghy. The dinghy ride can be bumpy and wet. We go into town to use internet, get groceries, arrange for parts and labour, play dominoes with Rita and Dale of Alaté, or have pizza at Joe’s (ham and pineapple with extra cheese is our favourite). We might go in twice a week. The grocery store has just about everything we need – eggs, cheese, some meats, lemons, tomatoes, peppers, and hot chicken on Tuesdays. We can order the chickens through our VHF radio, which is very convenient.

I have started growing sprouts again and someday Darrel will fish. My sprouts only take 3 days and take very little water. They are a great addition to our salads, stir-fries and sandwiches. The fish catching might take a little longer. Locals tell us that the area has been over-fished. This is a familiar lament … which just goes to show that you can teach a man to fish but he still might go hungry.

P. Eng. – October 2005

It is with tremendous pride that we announce that our son, Dylan, has received official notification that he has met all the requirements and is now a Professional Engineer (Civil). Ever since he was a little tyke playing with Lego, he has been focussed and hardworking. Now he has a super job, an outstanding wife, two healthy children and, to boot, a P. Eng. behind his name. Congratulations, Dylan!

KISS – Keep it Simple, Sailor

Many years ago when I was a corporate trainer and teaching presentation skills to colleagues, I fell in love with the concept of “KISS” – keep it simple for success. While a useful concept for making presentations, it is even more valuable for live-aboard cruisers.

There are numerous reasons why we cruisers have to KISS, among them being: limitation of space, of electricity, of access to supplies and services, and, for many of us, of funds.

Darrel and I have found a number of ways to simplify our lives, (although we’ll never meet the standards of the pros, like Lynn and Larry Pardy), thus giving us more room for essentials, less draw on our energy supply, and less strain on our budget. Some tricks we have discovered ourselves, but most of the simplification ideas have come from fellow cruisers, who are indeed a clever lot. Here is a quick list of some of our favourite KISS practices:

Use the same towels over and over and over again. These are very cheap, thin towels that dry quickly and are easy to wash when they eventually do get washed.

Cook simple meals. Anything that takes longer than 20 minutes on the stove or in the oven doesn’t get onto the menu. Couscous salads are a favourite.

Make our own music, painful as that may sound.

Get up with the sun, go to bed with the sun.

Bathe and shampoo in the sea. If we dry off thoroughly right away, the salt doesn’t stay on our skin. Our hair seems to love the salt water.

Catch rainwater. Some things on the boat don’t like salt water (e.g. anything that corrodes).

Learn how to fix things – Darrel started on this principle when he was six.

Wear very few clothes to cut down on laundry. We wear the same thing over and over again until we get company or have to go into town.

We have made simplification one of our passions, and are constantly on the lookout for even more ways to take our lives down to the basics. We look forward to meeting cruisers who have more hints, and to hearing from you if you have any tips yourself!

The CBC on SSB

While we were on land earlier this year, I made an effort to check out CBC’s website to see what short-wave frequencies they operated on. During the first leg of our trip, I had no success in finding them on our single-side-band radio (SSB). Now I have a comprehensive list of all the programs that are aired on which frequency at which time UTC. The reception is great, and while we don’t listen too often (energy conservation), it’s great to get periodic news updates. But today I got the juiciest Canadian news from Trinidad radio. A Canadian diplomat with a forgetful name has embarrassed Canada by making inappropriate comments about the crime situation in Trinidad, whose officials have responded by saying Butt Out. They are asking for a retraction and apology. Oh Canada.

Chacachacare – Halloween

One of the Trinidad islands we have anchored at is Chacachacare. Until about 35 years ago, this island was a leper colony. It was abandoned when a cure for leprosy was found, and now nature is about half way to reclaiming the buildings. When we arrived at the island, we were the only boat in the anchorage. We were a bit spooked, (it was Halloween, after all), because a few years ago there was a pirate attack on the other side of the island, so for the first time in Trinidad we locked all our hatches and slept with our handheld VHF radio. The next day was a public holiday and the locals were out in full force, so we relaxed considerably. We have had to return to the main island to get our watermaker repaired (already! – not a good sign) and to get new batteries, but we plan on returning to the beautiful Chacachacare to do some snorkelling, at long last.

Darrel – Retired and Awarded – November 2005

This is the month that Darrel retires! He has been on paid vacation, which continues until November 25. He is getting leaner, blonder and, with his long hair, looks more like an unemployed hippy than a retired professional. But we have been recently reminded of his professionalism. He has received a special award from the Canadian Association of Home and Property Inspectors. We haven’t been able to download the e-mail attachments that were sent to us, but we do know it is the Michael Ludolph memorial award for persons outside the association who have had a positive influence on the industry. This was the first time it was presented, and it is a great honour for Darrel. He was instrumental in the progress the association has made towards a professional certification program for the inspectors, and new homeowners in Canada will benefit from Darrel’s work. Congratulations, Darrel!

Leaving Trinidad – November 16, 2005

This will be our last dispatch from Trinidad. We’ll soon be on our way to Grenada and up the chain of Caribbean islands (Guadeloupe for Christmas). We plan to leave in the wee hours of a moonlit night with our buddy boat, Cat Tales. New adventures are around the corner!

Safe and Sound in Grenada

Our sail from Trinidad to Grenada on the morning of November 17 was a little rough. Three boats (us, Cat Tales and Just ‘N Time) left Trinidad at 3:00 a.m. after carefully checking the weather information. Despite a good forecast, we hit a squall at about 8:30 a.m. We had taken our seasickness medication, so physically the ride wasn’t too bad, but all the captains got good and wet and tossed around as they quickly reduced sails before the worst of the storm hit. It lasted quite a while and our autopilot had decided it needed a rest, so we had to hand steer. We were exhausted by the time we got to Grenada at 5:00 p.m., but all three boats made it safe and sound with just some minor damage to various pieces of gear. Because of the time lost due to the storm, we changed our course and landed in Prickly Bay rather than St. David’s Harbour. It has proven to be a great place to be – with a nice beach and lots of services available. And the water is turquoise rather than green – getting much prettier!

We were unable to hook up with the rebuild folks, which was very disappointing. However, it is wonderful to see that Grenada has recovered significantly from Hurricane Ivan. Many locals still need repairs to their homes, but material and skilled labour are apparently hard to get. We have taken tours around the island, and have seen very little evidence of what Ivan did. The trees are all thriving again, businesses are open and operating, power lines are all up, the roads are in pretty good shape, and most homes are habitable. There are a few trashed boats around, but we see these all the time in the Caribbean – good reminders of how careful we must be during hurricane season. The resilience of this lovely island has certainly impressed us.

Check Out Cat Tales

Our boating buddies on Cat Tales have been sharing some great adventures with us, and they have a web log that they update regularly. If you want to read more stories about what CanKata has been up to, you can find them at personal.nbnet.nb.ca/corbetl – which is Cat Tales’ web site that has a link to their blog. We haven’t read any of it yet, but we know that Dawn and Laurie are great writers so it should be worth a look.

The Queen’s Crown

When we had returned to Canada last March, I was astounded to see that the effigy on the new coins was crownless. It was great to see that the Queen is aging gracefully, but she didn’t look very royal. I figured that if anything should have been eliminated from the coins, it was her head, not her crown. Curious, I called the Mint to see why the Queen lost her crown, and was assured that there was no political motivation. The effigy that the focus group selected simply didn’t have a crown. Some Canadian artist from B.C. couldn’t manage the detail, perhaps.

So I was intrigued to see that the coins in Grenada have the exact same effigy – but WITH a crown. I remain very curious.

An interesting fact for anyone who is interested in history or politics: Britain abstained from the 1983 vote by the United Nations Security Council to declare the U.S. invasion of Grenada a "flagrant violation of international law". (The vote passed 11-1). When we talked to the locals about the invasion, we couldn’t really tell if the U.S. were viewed as heroes or villains. Regarding the Queen, they have about the same attitude as the average Canadian, and none of them care two hoots about the crown on her head.

Running away to sea

We were on a long bus ride in Grenada, and one of the locals a few seats ahead of us wanted to tell us his life story. He has been around the world, spreading the Baha’i faith. He told us that when he was 15, he ran away to sea. I told him that we have a lot in common, for when I was 50, I ran away to sea. He simply laughed, like he didn’t believe me, and continued with his fascinating stories, which are too long for this update.

Subway – by Darrel

This is the first time that I have entered an item onto our web site, but I feel that it is story worth sharing. I knew that Loretta would not volunteer to mention this in her regular update since she is the victim of the story. I should mention that, by telling this story, there is a very good chance that it will soon backfire and that you will be reading similar stories about me. Thus far Loretta has been very kind to me.

When we were checking into Customs and Immigration in Grenada, Loretta and Dawn from Cat Tales were having a chat with another cruiser who was also checking in. I was nearby, within listening distance, filling in the eight different – but very similar – custom and immigration forms. The other cruiser had been to Grenada many times so Loretta was taking the opportunity to get a lowdown on the island and find out where the closest grocery store and bank were located. The cruiser was giving her directions so I tried to have one ear on the conversation and the other ear to hold up my reading glasses. The directions were something like this:

You dinghy over to de Big Fish and then walk up the hill, turn right and hop on a dollar bus (which is actually a two “Eastern Caribbean” dollar bus) heading towards St. George’s. Shortly after you go past a Subway that is on your right hand side you will see the shopping center on your left. Before the cruiser could continue on with the directions to the bank Loretta questioned with much excitement, “You mean to tell me that there is a subway on Grenada?” The cruiser replied with much less excitement that yes there is and then continued to go on with the directions. Now it was quite apparent to everyone nearby, other than Loretta, that she didn’t hear the upper case “S” on Subway but everyone was too polite to make fun of Loretta’s misunderstanding – I would have seized the moment but it happened just as I was being called in by the Customs Officer to go through and verbalize all the information that I had already entered on the eight forms. Loretta was still quite surprised and excited that Grenada had a subway and started to make another statement in this regards which is when Dawn stepped into the conversation to save Loretta from further embarrassment by offering the sacrificial question to the other cruiser, “Excuse me but when you said there would be a Subway on the right before the shopping center, did you mean the Subway that you eat at, or, the subway that you drive through?” Once clarified, everyone, especially Loretta, had a good laugh.

Now to end this story, and to save a rebuttal from Loretta, we did happen to find a tunnel in St. George’s that Loretta tries to convince everyone who knows or hears of this misunderstanding that it is a subway and not a tunnel.

Save the goat – November 30/05

It was just over a year ago that Darrel and I were in Annapolis, standing with a crowd of exuberant navy college students, chanting “Fear the goat, fear the goat!” Our involvement was accidental, but fun nonetheless. The goat is the navy’s mascot, and the students were getting ready to beat the army in a crucial football game, and we happened to be in the vicinity of the rally at the time.

Just over a year later, Darrel finds himself on the island Carriacou with the crowd (Loretta and fellow cruiser, Dawn Corbett) chanting “Save the goat, save the goat!” This was no football game.

To explain: The crew of Cat Tales and CanKata were hiking in Carriacou, enjoying the exotic sites and sounds of this beautiful Caribbean island, when the unpleasant cry of a baby goat hit our ears. It was obviously a baby goat in trouble. We followed the sound and found the little bleater inside the deep drainage ditch at the side of the mountain road. He was running up and down, trying to find the exit, with no luck. Momma goat was tied up a number of yards away, and was calling to him frantically. Darrel jumped into the ditch to see if he could lift the little fellow out, but couldn’t get close. Laurie Corbett then jumped in so that they could corner him. As they drew closer together, the little goat’s adrenaline kicked into gear and he leaped right out of the ditch and headed for momma. One saved goat.

Just a half mile down the road, we found another goat that needed saving. Billy goat had stuck his head through a square of wire fence, and when he tried to pull back through, his horns wouldn’t cooperate. Darrel and Laurie had to work with a very uncooperative Billy, but finally set him free. Second saved goat.

That evening we had lamb chops for supper. Not the same animal, but close enough to make us wonder if we were really saviours after all.

Eric’s Weather – December 7, 2005

Some mornings, especially when we are preparing to make a passage, we get up early to listen to the weather on our SSB radio. At 0630, a gentleman named Eric provides all the information we need to help us decide whether to leave or stay.

After today’s forecast, we have decided to stay in Admiralty Bay in Bequia (in the Grenadines, between Trinidad and Martinique) for a little longer. In Eric’s words, it is “rock and roll city out there”. “Tenacious” hurricane Epsilon is proving to be a capable wind maker, and we are experiencing strong gusts and frequent squalls. We are fortunate that the anchorage here has good holding, and we are protected from swells. Cat Tales and Alaté are anchored on either side of us, so we don’t have far to go for entertainment.

It looks as though Epsilon should die out soon. We should be on the move again in 2 or 3 days. In the meantime, “boat boys” pop by to sell us bread, lobster, ice, and anything else under the sun (or clouds) that we might need. This weather delay is not a hardship. Darrel even found time to change the oil in both engines.

Dry Season – December 10, 2005

Still in Bequia, we are still listening attentively to Eric’s weather in the early morning. Yesterday’s great news was that “hurricane season is over”! Today he announced, “The dry season is making a serious attempt to start”. The latter is a mixed blessing. While we love the clear, sunny weather, we use collected rainwater for laundry, boat cleaning and bathing. We will now have to rely more on what we make with our water maker. But the winds are fresh and the sun is bright, so we are generating lots of wind and solar energy. If energy is scarce, I can always quit doing laundry and cleaning the boat … not a hardship.

On the other hand, the weather forecast is not always absolutely accurate, and I’m sure we’ll still see some rain. (Update December 11: it rained all through the night!)

On the other hand, the weather forecast can be very accurate. Eric told his listeners that the seas will remain “lumpy and bumpy” offshore, and sure enough, our sail from Bequia to St. Lucia (a nine-hour sail) was just that. We arrived safe and sound, though, and even managed the trip without seasickness medication and mostly without the engines running. Great sailing!

Fishing is good – December 11, 2005

We have been having some great luck with fishing these days. We have the freezer running, thanks to the power from the wind and sun, and in it we have eight meals worth of freshly caught Dorado and Barracuda, both of which are very tasty. We have been practicing with our spears, but we haven’t yet attempted to spear any fish. Everything has been caught while we’ve been trolling. We haven’t found conch yet (very over-fished) but we’re still on the lookout.

Soufriere, St. Lucia

“You shouldn’t anchor in Soufriere,” some fellow cruisers warned us. They went on to tell us how they had been boarded by a local in the middle of the night, and had to yell and scream at him to get him off the boat. And then they told us about the aggressive “boat boys” who hounded them. We had anchored in Soufriere last year without incident, so decided to take the gamble, because it is a beautiful spot and works out well on the itinerary – just the right distance from Bequia for a day’s sail.

When we arrived in Soufriere on December 11, we were greeted by boat boys who set us up on a mooring ball for a fee of $10 EC. (2 Eastern Caribbean dollars = 1 Canadian dollar). They are sitting in their boat at the mooring ball waiting to take your line, so you really have no choice but to use their assistance. Then the officials came and charged us $40 EC for using the mooring ball. Then Darrel had to dinghy into town to check in at Customs and Immigration and pay $30 EC, which is actually quite reasonable. When he arrived at the dinghy dock, however, a local suggested that Darrel pay him $10 EC to guard the dinghy. We don’t normally need a dinghy guard. “Why would I need you to guard my dinghy?” asked Darrel. “So nobody will go on it … not even me”, was the response. So Darrel handed him the $10 EC. When you think about it, our rubber boats are pretty vulnerable when left unattended.

But that wasn’t enough. Then our “guard” wanted to sell Darrel some carved calabash, and then he had a young friend who needed a coke. Darrel said no to these requests, checked in at Customs and Immigration, and then returned to CanKata on our dinghy, which indeed had been left untouched.

Back at Cankata, which was the only boat in the anchorage at the time, we were hounded by boat vendors, but they were all polite and friendly. None of them had the avocados that I was looking for, but one went to the trouble of getting some the next day and delivering them for a reasonable price. HUGE avocados with HUGE pits – but tender and tasty.

Then we were alarmed to see that a local was on shore and starting to swim for our boat. It is not a friendly shore – huge cliffs and lots of rugged coral – so it was quite an undertaking for him. It turns out that it was our dinghy guard still trying to sell Darrel his wares. I gave him the traffic cop “stop” signal and said, “No thanks – we don’t want anything”, but he wasn’t listening to me. I put up both hands into the stop sign and said much more firmly, “NO! Please don’t come to our boat”. Prudent cruisers never let uninvited guests aboard. It’s a firm rule. But he wasn’t going to listen to me. Darrel then came out with the best weapon for situations like this, our camera, and said, “If you don’t go away, I’ll take your picture and give it to the authorities”. “No problem, man”, said our guard as he swam back to shore. “I’ll see you tomorrow at the dinghy dock”.

We didn’t go into town the next day and we didn’t see him again. Our sleep was a little restless that night because we hadn’t hired anyone to guard CanKata. As usual, we had all our hatches locked but took a few extra precautions and slept with our VHF radio, foghorn and machete.

So, as we reflect, we still think Soufriere is a beautiful spot, and it works well on the itinerary, but we’ll probably say to our fellow cruisers, “You shouldn’t anchor in Soufriere”.

Christmas

Is it really that time of year already? We have company coming, which we are prepared for, but other than that, we haven’t done anything to get ready for the season. But we will have our family and friends in our thoughts at this special time of year, and hope you all have a wonderful holiday. Merry Christmas!

Baguette Holder

We were talking to another cruising couple that owns a French catamaran. They mentioned that, unlike many other French catamarans, theirs does not have a built-in baguette holder. We chuckled at the thought of having such a contraption built into your boat, when Darrel slapped his knee and said, “So that’s what that doodad is in our galley!” “Oh my goodness”, I agreed, “That’s exactly what it is”.

We have always wondered what the long, slender wooden holder was meant for. In fact, we have two, plus a larger holder in the centre. None of our cruising pals have anything like it in their boats. We’ve used them for a number of long, slender things – skewers, rolls of tin foil, wooden spoons, always knowing that there was a better use intended.

A baguette holder. It makes so much sense. You can’t walk on the beach of any of the French islands without seeing at least a couple of baguettes sticking out of each person’s backpack. We have grown quite fond of them ourselves, and our baguettes usually have a couple of bites taken out of them before they get onto the boat. And now they have their own little storage place. Ça marche bien – it works great.

Toasting the gods – December 2005

Darrel and I were having a dry spell in the fishing department. One evening, at the bow of the boat, while enjoying another spectacular Caribbean sunset, we pondered the problem.

“Maybe we need to toast the fishing god,” one of us remarked. The other agreed, and we heaped all sorts of praise on our fishing god, and begged him for better luck. What little we know about gods, we understand that they like getting praised. We used our best bottle of “Vin de Table” ($2.74 Euro; one Euro = $1.40 Canadian) and toasted the whole bottle to him.

We are not superstitious or religious, but the next morning we did catch the biggest Dorado we have ever caught (good for 7 meals). Not only that, but I saw a whale. Darrel sees them from time to time, but I always miss them. This was my day to see the spectacular sight of one of them surfacing close to CanKata to catch a breath of air. It was awesome. And the Dorado was a pretty tasty supper. We must have pleased the fishing god.

What we overlooked, however, was a toast to the god of wind. Our sail from Dominica to Les Saintes was peppered with squalls. The winds were at their worst when Darrel was cleaning the freshly caught fish. So that night, we gave thanks to the fish god and also had a little chat with the wind god. Again, plenty of praise was in order because we have been getting from point A to B in pretty good time. But we have been getting a little bumped around and bruised during passages, so thought maybe some calmer winds were in order. We used Kahlua to pay our respects to the wind god.

The next day, the winds were superb! But I guess the god of rain’s nose was out of joint, because the heavens poured on us like they never have before. We had to turn on the radar to make sure we didn’t run into anything (land, a freighter, stuff like that).

That evening we made a tough decision. The situation was starting to remind us of the blessed boat boys – once you do business with one of them, then they all start hounding you with their wares. So we quit cold turkey – no more praising or begging or toasting the gods. We’ll rely on Mother Nature to do what she thinks is best and go with the flow.

Natalie

We met Natalie at the marina dinghy dock in Guadeloupe, which is a French island where very few people speak English. Most of the population speaks Creole (a combination of African and European languages); Natalie spoke French. With our limited French, Darrel and I have been getting along quite nicely in the French islands. Guadeloupe has been a little trickier because very few people speak English, which is not the case in most the other French islands.

So Natalie asked us a question in French. I thought she asked us if it was possible to get from the marina dinghy dock to the anchorage at Îlet à Cochons. I knew the answer because CanKata was anchored at that Îlet and we had just come from there in our dinghy. So when she asked, “C’est possible?” I answered, “Oui, c’est possible”. At that point, she jumped into our dinghy. It turns out that she was asking for a ride from the marina to her boat Cappuccino, which was also anchored at Îlet à Cochons.

We weren’t heading back to our boat, but, what the heck, we took her anyway. We now have new friends on Cappuccino and I am a little more cautious with my French.

Cool, clear water – January 2006 (Happy New Year!)

Last year, Darrel and I were in St-Martin and met a cruiser who had just sailed up from Trinidad. He commented on how much time Darrel and I spent in the water, considering how cold it was.

Cold? We had just come down from Canada where there was ice forming on the Big Rideau. If anything, we found the water a little warmish and not quite as refreshing as a mid-summer dip up north. But he explained that he had become accustomed to the warm waters closer to the equator, and just couldn’t bring himself to dip in the cool waters at the 18^th parallel.

So Darrel and I are now, a year later, a long way from Trinidad and back in the cooler climes of St‑Martin. And yes, we are finding the water a little cool.

It’s amusing to see how your perspective of things can change. While listening to the maritime weather the other day, we heard that the morning temperature in St. Kitts was only twenty-two degrees. “Twenty-two degrees”, exclaimed Darrel. “Brrrr”.

Winter in Canada seems so long ago, so far away.

Note to my brother Frank: Right now I can hear you singing “Cool Clear Water” clear as a bell.

Firsts (up to January 2006)

Here are some things we did for the first time since cruising:

Cooked a turkey on CanKata (small, delicious!)

Loretta ate fish eyes (small, delicious! – had to spit out the hard centre)

Entertained company aboard for a full week

Ate sugar cane – juicier than we expected

Picked our own coconuts, drank the milk, ate the meat

Cracked open and grated our own nutmeg

Caribbean Blizzard

January 22, 2006: We are having a blizzard in St-Martin today. There is no snow, and the temperature is 27 degrees Celsius, but the wind is very much like those howling winds you get on the Canadian prairies in mid-January. The wind has been blowing strong for weeks now, and it hampers our sailing plans and makes our dinghy rides to shore somewhat wet and bumpy. But today is worse than ever. Our recent visitors left yesterday, and we are glad they didn’t have to experience this. Jenny (our noisy wind generator who got on our visitors’ nerves in moderate winds) is doing a fine job of keeping other boats from anchoring too near us – she is screaming like a banshee in heat.

But there aren’t too many boats out anyway – they are probably all in the lagoon where there is some protection from the relentless gusts. We have chosen to stay away from the lagoon because we like to swim and breathe the fresh ocean air. We can do both where we are presently anchored – Grande Case Bay – but we have to hold onto our hats! Sometimes the gusts are so strong that they blow water through the bay, just like wildly drifting snow across a flat prairie. Our hatches remain closed because every tenth gust or so brings a rainsquall with it. At least CanKata has been cleaned of any salt she may have accumulated.

We turned on our instrumentation to measure the wind speeds, and the gusts often hit 30 knots. Sometimes the calm between the gusts last long enough to make us think that maybe the blizzard has ended, but then along comes another one, driving rain with it and causing CanKata to yank hard on the anchor, which is thankfully holding very well. Jenny screams.

But I am in a sundress and Darrel in his sarong. The water is warm. We’re just getting ready to have a cool rum punch. We can handle these Caribbean blizzards, no problem.

May You Never Have Sand in Your Mud

When our recent visitors, Dave and Jan from Alberta, left CanKata to catch their flight, they yelled back to us, “May you never have sand in your mud!” The previous night, when we were having our farewell drinks, that was how we toasted each other. That phrase will probably become CanKata’s signature toast.

It started in Tintamarre. We had taken our visitors ashore for some beachcombing and exploring, and decided to check out the state of the mud baths. It had just rained, and to our delight the mud holes had a top layer of soft, creamy mud that was the best we have ever seen. Dave, Jan and I smoothed it all over us, being careful not to dig too deep because then we would hit sand. Darrel didn’t catch on right away and had a much rougher mud bath than the three of us. We were soothed; Darrel was sanded. He did my back for me, and I got a feel of what his bath was like -- ouch!

So that evening, during happy hour, it only seemed natural for Jan to toast us with “May you never have sand in your mud.” At that, Darrel finished his drink with one gulp.

Booty

Our friends on Cat Tales once told us something that we have never forgotten: “There is more than seashells on the beach”. Since learning that, we have kept a keen lookout for other treasures that the wind and sea have left on the shore, and have collected items like a US $100 bill, a Trinidad $100 bill, goggle cleaner, ice cubes (!), a cockpit cushion, and snorkels.

Our best day was last Tuesday, January 24, the day my little brother Mike turned 51. We were walking the beach of Grande Case, St-Martin after a good blow (a trick learned from Cat Tales). We found a 6’ square piece of pacific blue canvas – matches our boat and will come in handy for something or other – and a 20” 14K man’s heavy gold chain made in Italy (we needed our magnifying glass to determine the last few pieces of information). We also found a US dime and a cute little earring, so it was quite a profitable beach comb.

For you landlubbers, I’d like to pass on this piece of advice from a former colleague in Ottawa: In the spring, always walk with your head down. She claims to have found hundreds of dollars under the freshly melted snow. Good hunting!

February – June 2006:

Cats and Monohulls

We were listening to the “security net” the other morning (a daily chat on the SSB radio that keeps cruisers informed of safety and security issues), when Darrel commented that all the catamaran names mentioned had the word “cat” in them. CanKata and Cat Tales fall right in there. Then we heard about a 39-foot Beneteau with the name Cat Paws. Darrel said, “That isn’t right … it’s a monohull … its name should be Monopaws!”

I’m sure Cat Paws would not agree.

The Raft

When Darrel and I were working in Ottawa, one of our favourite meeting places was the Research Lunch Table where we worked. It was just one-half hour, five days a week, but the most memorable times with gentle and funny people who had so much to share – stories, advice, news, opinions, bad jokes, worries, family photos, the requisite walk around the grounds, and, sometimes, french fries. Lunchtime was a bright spot in the workday thanks to those we broke bread with.

It’s important to have a favourite meeting place, even if it is a place where everyone doesn’t know your name. We have a place like that in St-Martin. We have The Raft.

The raft is close to where we anchor in Orient Bay. It is the halfway point between the beach and us, and is a sunning place for some of the beachgoers, at least those who are competent swimmers. When we swim to the raft, we chat with the sunbathers from the beach. We volley around bits of conversation until we find something in common to get our teeth into. Usually everyone knows “someone from Canada”, but is smart enough not to ask if we know that someone (but we do ask for names, just in case). Sometimes, we really hit it off with the raft people, and invite them aboard CanKata. Now, CanKata is not the newest or prettiest or biggest boat in the anchorage, but she is the only one that the raft person has been invited to, so, for them, it is a treat.

We keep a guest log and ask our visitors to write a little something. Most of the raft people are on a short vacation, so we mostly see them only once or twice, but they are easy to remember when we read their special notes in our log. Some of them are (like we were) frequent visitors to St-Martin. So when they leave, we say, “Next time you’re here, look for us”. And if they find us, maybe they will remember our name.

Cap Overboard

Before you become alarmed, let me assure you that this is not a story about the Captain falling overboard. This is literally about a cap overboard – a ball cap, that is.

Anyone who has been on a boat wearing a ball cap on a windy day knows what I am talking about. For those of you who are unfamiliar with the “cap overboard” routine, let me describe to you the scene we saw yesterday:

A pleasure craft enters the bay that we are anchored in. The captain is leisurely scouting out the area, looking for a good place to “drop the hook”. A gust hits the bay, and all of a sudden the boat starts to quickly circle around. The crew are scrambling on deck. Someone grabs the boat hook and extends it to its full length. After the boat has circled a couple of times, the man with the hook leans way over the side and hooks onto something floating in the water. The hook is raised and, there it is, the ball cap! Everyone cheers.

When we were boating with our friends Dawn and Laurie of Cat Tales, they would often come ashore with us in our dinghy. I was the only one of our foursome who didn’t wear a ball cap. As the designated dinghy driver, I was often called upon to perform the “cap overboard” routine. The dinghy is close to the water, so no hook is required, but the retriever (usually the person who lost the cap) has to lean right over. I have often been tempted to give them a little nudge so that we could actually practice the “man overboard” routine, which is much more fun and practical in my view.

On CanKata, we have been lucky to date and have not had to put our “man overboard” routine to actual use. And so far we haven’t lost a cap. Darrel has given it his best effort, but somehow his cap manages to cling to something on the boat – a fishing rod, a winch, a boat hook - because it must know that the CanKata crew isn’t likely to change course for a sweaty, faded, CHBA ball cap. Who knows what CHBA stands for anyway? In the meantime, we have a couple of spiffy new ball caps waiting in the wings.

So if you are cruising with friends and want to test their “man overboard” routine, wear a ball cap … but not your favourite one, just in case.

Night Delight

February 16, 2006

I could hardly believe my eyes. I blinked a couple of times, and it was still there. I turned and looked at my three companions, who were also blinking with their mouths agape. “Do you see what I see?” I asked, sounding like a wise man from a Christmas carol. Susan whispered yes, Keith said wow, and Darrel simply nodded his head. It was a moon bow.

We were on the back deck of the elegant yacht “Roamer”, drinking some fine red wine and laughing at the fact that Keith lost his cap overboard on the exact same day that I wrote a story about that particular routine. The sun had set and the waning moon, three days past being full, was bright on the east horizon. We were facing west, and there it appeared before us – a monochrome grey rainbow arching in the dark sky - nothing like the brilliant ROY G BIV daytime rainbows but still breathtakingly beautiful in its uniqueness. Darrel felt prompted to ponder aloud, “Do you think there is a pot of silver at the end of that moon bow?”

It didn’t last long. We all continued to gaze at the empty darkness, wondering aloud if this was a common phenomenon. None of us had seen a moon bow before. It took several moments before we returned to the conversation we had been having.

Darrel and I both love night passages. It is a magical time to be at the helm. Now, besides meteorites, fish pots, weather buoys, freighters, whales, and phosphorescence, we have one more thing to keep an eye out for – a moon bow. We hope you get to see one, too.

Awaiting Dylan and Laura

February 28, 2006

Here we are, at the last day of February already. We still can’t get used to the fact that it is winter, and now spring is already just around the corner.

We have had a wonderful winter. And it has been great to hear that Canada has been experiencing a mild winter. Although it means that our family, friends and colleagues are less likely to want to come and visit us, we are happy that they didn’t freeze their toes off this year.

We still have had many visitors, and the great times that we have had with them will be fresh in our memories for a long time. And we have more visitors to come! Don and Sharon will be with us in a few days, Carol and Al will be popping in soon, and then we are having extra-special visitors coming: our son Dylan and his wife, Laura, arrive March 13. This will be the highlight of the season for us. We have some great adventures living on CanKata, and being able to share them with Dylan and Laura will be a special treat. We look forward (a long way forward) to the day when our grandchildren, Tehja and Taylor, will be able to join us. Can there be a sweeter dream: showing your grandchildren all the wonderful secrets of the beautiful Caribbean?

End of Visiting Season – March 20, 2006

It is spring tomorrow. Winter is over, and so is our visiting season. We have such great memories of the fun and adventures we had with our guests, and thought we’d share some highlights:

First turkey dinner on CanKata with Larry and Sue on Christmas Day

Best mud bath with Jan and Dave on Tintamarre – “May You Never Have Sand in Your Mud”

Largest crowd ever sailing on CanKata - André, Jean, Janet, Gary, Lynn, Bruce, Anna, Ed, Karen

Dancing and shadow making on CanKata’s bow with Sue Ann, Ken, Donald and Kathy

Burying each other in the sand with Dani and Kenny

Teaching Charlie and Sue’s twin boys (Ryan and Ian) how to dive for conch

Doing head stands on the beach with Sharon while Darrel and Don cheered us on

Showing Carol and Al how to play Mexican Train dominoes (after a great snorkel)

Pyjama party with Cat Tales – “The hell here never ends!”

Spending a glorious week with our son and daughter-in-law, Dylan and Laura - Y

If this is what sailing is all about, we certainly made the right career choice.

Where’s the Moon?

By Darrel

One day as we were heading in our dinghy through the lagoon we noticed a Canadian boat that appeared to be in distress just off to the side of the buoyed channel. We turned around and went over and asked them if they needed assistance. They told us they were aground and were trying desperately to free themselves. We offered to pull them with the dinghy but they informed us that a bigger boat had just tried this without success. They did not know the state of the tide, i.e. ebbing or flowing, so they asked us if we knew. Immediately Loretta started scanning the heavens above which, were partially covered with popcorn clouds, and began babbling about where the moon was, what time did it rise, is it presently east or west of us, and what time is it now. The lady of the grounded boat was already quite anxious and she just looked at Loretta as though Loretta must be a bit psychotic and was being affected by the moon, hence “lunie”. The lady completely ignored us after this episode and went back and gunned the motor. I am not sure if she was trying to free the boat or just get away from Loretta. At this point we wished them best of luck and continued on through the lagoon. On our way back to CanKata we saw a large workboat so we pointed them towards the boat in distress.

Now let me explain to you that Loretta was far from crazy and her searching and babbling did make a lot of sense provided you were aware of the relationship between the orientation of the moon and the rising and falling tide. Water generally tries to run toward the moon. The tide starts rising soon after moonrise and continues until approximately an hour after it reaches its zenith (highest point above you), and then starts falling until moonset. After moonset the tide begins to rise again until shortly after its nadir (opposite of zenith) at which point it starts falling until moonrise. So in short, Loretta is not lunie, although she does get somewhat wild during a full moon.

The Coast of Tintamarre

Tintamarre has always been one of our favourite little islands. It has a beautiful beach, luxurious sand, great mud, pretty shells, and is fairly remote by the end of the day. It is a very peaceful overnight anchorage. We’ve always considered Tintamarre small, but, until recently, never attempted to walk completely around it.

We undertook that activity, wisely or not, while Dylan and Laura (our son and his wife) were visiting us. Our boating buddies from Cat Tales, Dawn and Laurie, also joined us. If we would have thought of taking water bottles, better shoes, protective leg wear, a map and maybe a few beers, we would probably remember it as “a good idea”. But we were a little unprepared for the challenges that the north coast of Tintamarre had to offer.

Nevertheless, it was well worth all the trouble. If we ignore the heat stroke, sunburns, blisters and the nettle scratches all over our legs, we could even say the hike was fantastic! And even when someone asked, “Does this remind you of the movie Blair Witch Project?” – we all managed a weak laugh. We were such good sports, following Laurie through the briar and bramble and bushes where even the rabbits wouldn’t go. Actually, we didn’t see any rabbits but found a few white skulls from what could have been goats, but we couldn’t be sure.

And we found the rugged, breath-taking beauty of Tintamarre’s north shore. Words can’t do justice to the cliffs, caves, rocks, surf, and million shades of blue and green ocean water. We snapped dozens of photos, but, like words, they can’t fully capture the magnificence of the view. We have seen nothing else like it. If you took both the south and north shores of Prince Edward Island, mixed in a little of Peggy’s Cove, a dash of the badlands and a sprinkling of the Rocky Mountains, you might come close. It was exhilarating and even a little frightening to stand on the cliffs and watch the crashing surf below. It was hard to leave, but eventually thirst and heat drove us back to CanKata.

We highly recommend the hike to anyone who is fortunate enough to land on the south shore of Tintamarre. But be a good boy scout and be prepared – don’t forget a couple of beer.

Dinghy Stress

Cruisers have a very special relationship with their dinghies. They are our “tender” and are how we get to shore and back, along with our passengers and stores. They are like a car, but provide an even more critical service. Landlubbers have options: taxi, bus, walking, biking, etc. Cruisers usually have no other option.

Cruisers often nickname their dinghies. Ours is CanKitty and she has earned a position of honour on the home page of our web site. Her favourite song is “Love Me Tender” and her least favourite is “My Dingaling”. She doesn’t like to be played with; she takes her job very seriously. Many cruisers call their tenders “dinks”, but CanKitty is a girl tender so the name just hasn’t stuck. But I have to admit it is soft in the morning and likes to be blown.

The act of dinghying (even though it is not a recognized word by my spell checker) causes a lot of stress for cruisers. Dinghy theft is common in the Caribbean. Our tenders have to be locked to the dinghy dock, and the motor has to be locked to the dinghy, and the gas tank has to be locked to the motor, and nothing else of value can be left unattended. Locks can be picked and chains can be sawed, so it is always stressful to leave the dinghy at the dock. Cruisers breathe a sigh of relief when they return to the dock and find the dinghy safe and sound.

Dinghies, if they haven’t been hoisted up the davits, should be locked to their mother ships to prevent theft. Rumour has it that a crewmember on CanKata can count her lucky starts that thieves are a rarity at Prickly Pear, BVIs. (She locked CanKitty, but not to anything).

At some islands, the local children like to play at the dinghy docks and on the dinghies. You might be fortunate enough to find someone who will charge you $5 to make sure no one plays on yours. Or you might be unfortunate enough to return to your dinghy and find it full of water, a little scratched up and with a few safety items missing. This doesn’t happen in St-Martin, which is part if that island’s appeal.

Sometimes cruisers have to anchor their dinghies, and this activity involves the careful tying of knots. Did you know “bitter end” is a nautical term? If you haven’t tied your anchor properly at the bitter end, be prepared to go diving. We often anchor CanKitty when we want to go to a beach that has a bit of surf and it is not safe to pull the dinghy ashore. We have discovered that the bowline knot (you know, at the bitter end) has to be tied exactly according to instructions. Rumour has it that a crewmember on CanKata can count his lucky stars that another beachgoer caught CanKitty before she drifted too far.

If the surf is calm and a cruiser is able to drag the dinghy ashore, it can be stressful if you aren’t certain of the state of the tide. Nothing spoils a productive beachcombing event like a dinghy that has been washed out to sea or washed up on a pile of rocks. Tip: Always know what the tide is doing (see “Where’s the Moon”).

Although not a common occurrence, sometimes the dinghy plug can fall out (or get pulled out by some mischief maker). This can be really stressful if you haven’t noticed the plug is missing and have been bailing the boat for 15 minutes or more. Tip: Always carry a spare dinghy plug.

An unfortunate characteristic of inflatable dinghies is that they can be punctured, which can cause considerable stress. Tip: Don’t install sharp solar panels just above the dinghy davits. If you do, make sure the solar panel is tightly secured. Rumour has it that CanKitty has two patches from injuries sustained on the very first leg of her trip south.

Visitors to CanKata will attest to the fact that it can be stressful getting in and out of the dinghy, whether from shore (right, Jan?), from water (right Sue Ann?), from the big boat (right Bruce?), or from the dock (right Karen?). To date, no one has fallen out of CanKitty but we’ll be sure to post the picture if and when that happens.

Regardless of all the stress involved, we just couldn’t do without our CanKitty. She is fast and stable, her motor is reliable, and her anchor (when tied) holds well. She has hauled water, diesel, groceries, sails, propane, beer, wine and visitors. She hugs tight to CanKata when we are underway. She gets us to customs and immigration on time and, on those few occasions we stay ashore a little too long, safely finds her way back home.

She definitely deserves her spot on our home page.

Good-bye Cat Tales

Since mid-October, we have spent a lot of time with Dawn and Laurie of Cat Tales. Many of our adventures are captured on their web site www.personal.nbnet.nb.ca/corbetl. Dawn has given us some super recipes and Laurie has passed on some great technical tips. We have spent many hours together playing dominoes, drinking ti punch, snorkelling, hiking, shopping, eating, bathing in mud, partying in Grande Case, beach combing . . . having a lot of fun!

Cat Tales are now on their way home. As we start to plot our course to head south for the summer, they are planning their route north. In July, we’ll be in Venezuela, while Cat Tales will be in New Brunswick, anchored in front of their lovely cottage.

We’ll miss Dawn and Laurie. A common sight in many Caribbean anchorages was our two little cats flying their Canadian flags, floating side by side; that’s a sight that won’t be seen for many years to come, if ever.

Farewell Cat Tales. We look forward to hearing of your safe arrival in New Brunswick. We hope your next two years of gainful employment are enjoyable, and that you have a pleasant sail back to the Caribbean. May our paths cross again in the not-too-distant future, and may you never have sand in your mud!

Did We Get Your E-Mail?

Once or twice a month, CanKata’s miscommunications officer tries to get to an Internet café to check out what e-mails have been received and to update CanKata’s website. All e-mails are responded to, even if it’s just a quick “Thanks!” to acknowledge a friendly greeting.

If you haven’t heard back from us between website updates (sometimes a month or longer), it could be that we didn’t get your message. If you are not on our “favourites” list, your message may have been automatically deleted after 5 days. Also, I get some junk mail that I quickly delete, so maybe I accidentally deleted your message. As a matter of fact, I lost the rights to our domain name CanKata.ca for a few days because the provider’s address is something like “auto_renew.com” and I thought it was for automobile insurance. Well, I was wrong and didn’t get the invoice until I finally caught on that it was a legitimate email, and have since renewed the domain name for nine years.

So don’t give up on us! Please send us another greeting with a meaningful subject line (not just “hello” or “have we got a deal for you” or “having trouble keeping it up?”). We love to hear from you.

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Pick up lines in St. Martin

Someone once asked us, “How do you go about meeting people?” The answer is really very simple … we get picked up. I think cruisers, like heavily made-up and scantily dressed women sitting alone at a bar, have a certain appeal to landlubbers. But we have something different to offer: a high-seas story to tell. And, perhaps, a visit aboard our boat.

Here are some pick up lines that have initiated conversation, then friendship:

Did you sail that boat all the way from Canada?

Are you the people from that Canadian boat out there?

Where is the other half of your boat? (We were in our dinghy).

Did you swim all the way into shore?

Is that your laundry hanging all over your boat?

Fellow cruisers pick us up by offering help or asking for help:

Do you want to know how to get to the customs office?

How do the anchors hold here?

Hey, want to come over for sundowners?

Could you tell me which way to Cuba? (No, no one has asked us that but we have been tempted to dinghy over to a mega yacht and ask that question. Or ask if they can spare any sugar.)

Are you anchored on top of my anchor? (This question doesn’t usually lead to lasting friendship).

Oh, am I anchored on top of your anchor? (Ditto).

Sometimes the pick up lines are from shoppers at the local marine store. Five times I have been mistaken for a sales clerk. One gentleman apologized by saying, “I’m sorry, I thought I saw you organizing the shelf”. I had to be honest. “Actually, I was organizing the shelf”. Darrel has since asked me to stop trying to tidy up all the marine stores in the Caribbean.

So, in summary, we are easy pickups. We love to meet new people, and therefore forgive even the corniest of pick up lines (e.g., “Boy, that’s some big boat you have”). We have used many of these lines ourselves, and have been doing some brainstorming for new ones. Just yesterday, Darrel tried this one out: “What’s a nice boat like yours doing in a bay like this?”

The brainstorming continues.

Shells for Tehja and Taylor

As we leave St-Martin, we have a jar full of shells for our grandchildren, Tehja and Taylor. They are neat little cockleshells, shaped like a small dunce cap with a small hole on top, and will make a perfect toy for when our little visitors come aboard. Someone had suggested making an abacus with the shells, and Darrel and I have since made two for the grandkids and have borrowed them for scorekeeping in dominoes. We’re certain that the grandkids will use their imaginations and think of all sorts of other ways to play or make crafts with the shells.

The most special thing about the shells is that they have been collected by dozens of people. Visitors to CanKata and fellow beachcombers, once told that we are collecting a certain kind of shell for Tehja and Taylor, make it their mission to add to the collection. We have over a hundred of them now.

So when we finally have our little darlings aboard, it will be fun to give them their shells and tell them the stories about all the wonderful people who took part in building their collection. Thank you to everyone who took part.

Dress Poker

Darrel and I both love to play poker, and have especially enjoyed learning the ins and outs and vocabulary of Texas Hold’em. Unfortunately, most cruisers we meet play dominoes, not poker. However, one particular cruiser did suggest that he would play strip poker. We all took a quick inventory of what we were wearing (e.g. simply a sarong) and decided no. Darrel then came up with the idea of “dress poker” – and what worse penalty could there be for a cruiser than to have to don an unnecessary item of clothing! We plan to have a clothes bag handy for when we meet someone who is game for the game. Contents: socks!

(By the way, thank you to Affiah for bringing all their old gym socks for our boat polishing. As you can see, we have found another use for them to stay in line with that old cruiser maxim: Everything on your boat should have at least two uses).

Flour Shortage in St. Martin

We went to our usual large grocery store in St. Martin to stock up the boat before heading southbound. I am now making bread, and needed a big bag of flour. After sending me on a wild goose chase down nearly every aisle, the stock person finally asked the manager. I was surprised to learn that the store was out of flour. In fact, said the manager, there is a flour shortage in St. Martin. C’mon, Saskatchewan, are you stock piling your wheat again? Anyway, the very helpful manager suggested I might try a Chinese grocer. Sure enough, in our favourite Chinese corner grocer, there was a big bag of Canadian Robin Hood flour, plus a number of jars of chili-garlic sauce and Crix crackers, which cannot usually be found in the French islands.

But back to the shortage: Everywhere we looked, there were still large numbers of baguettes for sale. So it appears that there is, in fact, plenty of flour in St. Martin, but only for baguette vendors. Reminds us of “gas shortages” in previous decades. Yah, sure.

Pirates in April

Everyone asks us if we are worried about pirates. This month, April, we met the worst of the lot. No, not Pirates of the Caribbean. Worse than that: the Tax Man. Yes, this is income tax month and even Canadian cruisers who are not eligible for Canadian health care or drivers’ licenses have to dish out a big portion of their measly income. And, as is the way with pirates, our thief’s identity is unclear. The Tax Man keeps changing his name: Revenue Canada? CCRA? CRA? Taxation Canada? Pirates of the Great White North? Any Canadian reader who knows, good for you! No need to email us, because we only check our email every couple of weeks and it will probably be changed by then.

Other than the Tax Man, we have not met any other pirates. Yes, we will be concerned when we are in Venezuela, when we are near Somalia, and when we pass through the Strait of Malacca. We have been familiarizing ourselves with all the safety precautions we should take, and have all the alarms, bars and locks on CanKata that we might need. We plan to travel in convoys. We hope we have better luck defending ourselves against the tropical pirates than against those in the Great White North.

Easter in St. Martin = July 1 in Canada

On Easter Sunday, we met a local fisherman, Gary, who said, “Today, my woman is on the beach. Easter – it’s the only time she’ll go”. And we did notice that there were many more locals on the beach. As we sailed around the island of St-Martin, we were surprised to see tents pitched everywhere, the water full of laughing and squealing locals, and as day turned into night, the partying didn’t slow down.

It was like the July 1 weekend in Canada. It was good to see the locals claim back their surf and sand from the tourists. Yes, it appears that Easter marks that turning point. While there are still a number of cruisers and charter boats around at this time, Easter certainly heralds the beginning of the season when northerners stay home. And it heralds the season when CanKata heads south with most the other cruisers of the Caribbean. The “wet season” will soon be starting, the weather patterns will be changing, and cruisers will be looking for safe spots.

Summer and hurricanes are just around the corner.

What do we miss?

A question that many people ask us is “What do you miss”? I suppose when you live at sea on a 37-foot boat and often need to rely on small villages to provide you with provisions and boat parts, it could be easy to miss some of the luxuries of North American living.

We could be smart alecks and say we miss blizzards, mosquitoes, dust storms, 40 below weather, ice storms, winterizing CanKata, rush hour traffic, work, and regular visits to the dentist, but that would make us smart alecks. To be honest, we do sometimes miss Canadian Tire. There is just no equivalent down here.

But other than that, we are managing very nicely without all the comforts previously provided to us by the Canadian Government and the Hudson Bay Company. So the answer, which you already know, is that we miss our family and friends. We are thankful for email and would certainly miss that if it ever became unavailable. So thank you all for keeping in touch. You are helping us to feel very much at home on CanKata.

Business Opportunity

By Darrel:

As landlubbers, you probably think that due to the sedate lifestyle that cruisers lead we lose our ability to be innovative. I can quickly recall two innovative cruisers whom we recently met. The first is Captain Phil, S/V Splendid Adventure, who along with his spouse has developed a series of spicy sauces that are currently being sold throughout the Caribbean under the name Wreck-Tum Sauce. The second is Pat, S/V Mirus, who shared with us a few of her innovations currently under consideration – one being a marina park for geriatric cruisers. Imagine docks and ramps for the mobility impaired, access to all forms of assistance, e.g. someone to scrub your water line, to remove the hook from that five foot shark you happened to snag one the way back from the sunset cruise, or to snorkel for the domino tile that accidentally went overboard.

Just this week, Loretta came up with her own innovation. It all started three days ago when we were into our third day-passage without either of us having caught a fish when Loretta decided she was going to spit on her lure prior to putting it out. Well she did not even have her line completely out yet when she felt a tug and wondered aloud if she might have caught a fish. My first instinct was “of course not” -- my line was already out and it sat there quiet and limp. But after taking a look to our stern I could see a beautiful five pound Cero dragging helplessly behind and apparently going in the same direction and at the same speed as CanKata. Next day, same ritual and even I succumbed to spitting on my lure. Well within the hour Loretta had landed a seven pound Blue Runner Jack. I however was still fishing and not catching. Today I just finished cleaning Loretta’s latest catch – another slightly smaller Blue Runner Jack.

I congratulated Loretta on her great fishing, but she answered, “It’s not a skill – it’s just good spit”.

So, in the future when you are wandering the “Fishing” isle of your local Canadian Tire, don’t be surprised when you see a tiny bottle with a spray nozzle. I am still working on the brand name, perhaps Spittle for Victuals but you should be able to recognize the mermaid with Loretta’s face on the label.

Loretta on Spitting:

I have two confessions to make: First, I also spit into my facemask before I snorkel. It keeps the mask from fogging up. (Don’t try this with ski goggles in the winter – you’ll end up with worse problems than fogging).

My second confession: I used to think spitting was disgusting. If I saw a guy spit, he would be reduced from “gentleman” to just plain man. I kicked young boys out of our yard if I caught them spitting. I didn’t like to play mixed slow pitch because of all the spitting that when on.

And now here I am, a pro spitter. Life does take funny little turns, especially when we are pushed. But we are catching fish and I have seen incredible sights through my snorkel mask. If the term “gentlewoman” was part of our day-to-day vocabulary, I don’t think it would be used to describe me.

Another Boat Repair

Darrel has a long list of items aboard CanKata that need to be repaired. He has a schedule and everything will eventually get his attention. But the other day we had a mini crisis aboard our boat, and priorities had to change.

A bit of history is needed here. We carry spares of important items on board. When we left Ottawa, we had eight spare toothbrushes. We got quite a deal on them. Now we know why: the handles are too thick. You’ll understand in a moment why this posed a problem. While this brand of toothbrush is called “Advantage Plus”, the design proved to be no advantage whatsoever.

If you ever read the small print on toothbrush packaging, you will know that “dentists recommend changing your brush every 3 months”. So it had been 8 months since we had cracked open the last free brushes earned from dentist visits. We probably would have gone longer, because we know that dentists have shares in toothbrush companies, but our bristles were starting to fall out. So out came the new “Advantage Plus” brushes with their fat handles.

We knew right away we had a problem. When we tried to put the new brushes in our built-in toothbrush holder, they wouldn’t fit. We were stunned. Who would make a toothbrush that won’t fit into a standard toothbrush holder? Probably someone who has stock in the new “Advantage Plus” toothbrush holder.

So Darrel had to change his priorities for the day. Out came the drill and various other tools to assist with the job. He cleared his work area of other tasks that had been underway, and immediately attended to the too-small holes in the toothbrush holder. Within a half hour, the holder was capable of handling the new toothbrushes.

This may sound like extreme measures, but you have to remember that we had eight spare brushes – four each. By my calculations, at roughly eight months per toothbrush, that would be 32 months of some sort of temporary fix. So a permanent modification to the holder seemed in order. It is working great, and Darrel has resumed his usual maintenance schedule, with clean teeth and fresh breath.

Free Spirits

We met a couple of self-described free spirits while we were in Grenada. They are on a boat with no fridge. We were more curious about how they were managing without a fridge than why they considered themselves free spirits, although we did wonder why they didn’t fly their home country flag. They explained that, being American, they weren’t sure it was wise to fly the stars and stripes in Grenada and at their next destination, Venezuela. It appears that their free-spiritedness has been a little stifled by their current government.

Anyway, they manage very nicely without a fridge. They don’t cook much, except for making a variety of soups from packets. They eat specially packaged seaweed and vitamin supplements and soy stuff that doesn’t sound very yummy.

They also do not have a water maker, a ham radio, or a motor for their dinghy. They use oars. They are stronger and healthier than most cruisers we have met, so maybe there is a lot to be said about the simple approach.

A Gift from Billie

We were anchored in Chatham Bay, Union Island (Grenadines) when we noticed a boat was trying to anchor near us. We had met them in another bay, and had hoped that we would meet up again. They made several attempts to anchor, but couldn’t get a good holding. Darrel and I had been snorkelling around CanKata at the time, so we took it upon ourselves to find a nice sandy anchoring spot, free of weeds and rocks. When they dropped their anchor where we suggested, it didn’t land properly so Darrel dove down and turned it so that it would grab well in the sand.

They thanked us, accepted our free advice on anchoring, agreed to meet us later for sundowners, and then asked us how the snorkelling was. We answered that there was nothing much to see, but we were looking for a clothespin that I had dropped. I have some nice, sturdy, plastic pins that work great in the strong trade winds, so when I drop them overboard, we usually make an attempt (usually unsuccessful) to find them.

When Billie and Martin eventually joined us for sundowners and more anchoring advice, Billie presented me with a gift – a dozen clothespins. That’s what we love about cruisers – we take good care of each other.

No Hablo Mucho Espanol

We are out of the French islands now, and in a few months we will be moving into Spanish territory. So we have packed away our French-English dictionary and have pulled out our Living Language Ultimate Spanish Basic-Intermediate package: eight 60-minute cassettes and a 416-page textbook. We have agreed that we will study Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays (unless there is an emergency like a non-functioning toothbrush holder).

We had studied a bit of Spanish while living in Ottawa, but all I remember from that is one phrase, “Nosotros lavamos las ventanas” – We wash the windows. Darrel remembers, “Una cerveza por favor” – A beer please.

After a couple of weeks of studying, we have another phrase down pat: “Hay alquien aqui que hable ingles?” – Is there anyone here who speaks English?

From what we hear, there probably will be. I think we’ll get along just fine.

Our Sergeant Major

We were snorkelling around Cankata in Salt Whistle Bay, Mayreau (Grenadines), checking out her bottom, when we noticed a tiny sergeant major hovering around our starboard propeller. This fish is part of the damselfish family and has dark bars on its yellow body, resembling the traditional insignia of the military rank. We usually see sergeant majors in large numbers, and were pretty surprised to see the little loner under our boat.

We were very surprised when, at the next anchorage– Chatham Bay, our little friend was still there. I know we don’t sail very fast, but this is just an itty-bitty fish! Darrel figures he tucks into the cavity for the sail drive when we’re underway. The chain of surprises continued: Frigate Bay, Sandy Island, Ronde Island, St. George’s Bay, and Clarke’s Court Bay (Grenada). We were starting to worry about what would happen in Trinidad, where we plan to be hauled out. What would our striped friend do then?

As it happens, it appears that Clarke’s Court Bay is where Sarge decided to make his home. The day before we left, Darrel checked in on him but he was gone. Grenada is a lovely island and we hope he will be happy there.

Laundry Evolution

Our friends on Roamer have always loved their onboard washer and dryer. Now they love them even more since seeing the antiquated way that CanKata’s laundry is done.

I started out with a fairly sophisticated way of laundering. I purchased a “WonderWash Pressure Washing Machine” through the Internet, which cost less that $100 Canadian. It operates like a lettuce spinner with the added feature of a pressure seal that helps get laundry sparkling clean with just a few minutes of spinning. I used this method of washing for over a year, but I still had to wring everything by hand and put the washed items through numerous rinses. The fresh Caribbean breezes and hot sun ensured that I had dry laundry in just a few hours. A lesson learned early: use LOTS of clothespins on each item.

Over time, I began to tire of hauling out the WonderWash and then drying it for storage once I was finished with it. I looked at our four buckets, which are always conveniently located in or near the cockpit, and decided to revert to a more primitive way of washing, a way that is still popular with many cruisers. I bought a plunger. I caught rainwater in the buckets. After a decent rainfall, into the buckets went the dirty laundry along with a splash of detergent, and out came the plunger. My upper body strength improved over time. I still had to wring everything by hand and put the washed items through numerous rinses.

Over time, I began to tire of plunge plunge plunging. One day, while enjoying a glass of red wine while resting my laundry-weary arms and watching the sunset, I had a vision of myself stomping on grapes. I knew right away what the vision meant.

The next laundry day, the plunger stayed in its locker. Into the buckets went the dirty laundry along with a splash of detergent, followed by my feet. I stomped for several minutes and was very pleased with the results. My lower body strength is improving over time. I still have to wring everything by hand and put the washed items through numerous rinses, but I am hoping that some evening, while drinking wine and enjoying the sunset, another vision will come to me.

And now you know why we hardly wear any clothes.

For sale: One WonderWash Pressure Washing Machine and one plunger.

Biting Fish and Nesting Birds

There is lots of wildlife in Trinidad. In one bay, we listen to howler monkeys while watching hundreds of vultures soar above us. Dolphins sometimes come to visit, and a few times we have seen a ray fish leap several feet out of the water. Twice daily, at roughly 8:00 a.m. and 5:00 p.m., dozens of parrots fly past in pairs and chirp at us before settling in the trees. In the evenings, the diving pelicans entertain us by indelicately plopping into the water for their evening snacks.

But not all the wildlife gives us pleasure. Take the biting fish, for instance. There is a small school that is hanging around our boat, probably feeding off the growth on our hulls, that thinks the mole on my butt is something edible – maybe a water beetle or something. It has got to the point that, when I bath in the sea, Darrel has to hold his hand over my mole so I can do it in peace. There are probably other methods I could use to discourage the fish, but that solution is the one Darrel prefers.

And then there are the rough-winged swallows. Sure, they are beautiful and make a wonderful chirping noise, but they are determined to nest in CanKata’s boom! These little pests are part of a breed that doesn’t like to bother to dig their own nesting burrows, but would rather use ready-made nesting sites. So we have had to shove towels in the boom and hang old CDs to scare them away. But they are focussed and now a little annoyed with us, and are constantly swooping by and making angry chirping noises at us, and can often be found perched on Darrel’s fishing rod or our man-overboard pole. And they poop on our swim platform. I hope they soon find another site before it is too late to nest.

We plan to see more of the wildlife in Trinidad, friendly or pesky, and look forward to getting some photos to share with you later.

Shadow Beni

A short while ago, we were eating channa with friends. Channa is dried and spiced chickpeas – a tasty little snack. These ones were particularly spicy, so we were looking at the list of ingredients, one of which was “shadow beni” (sometimes spelt benny or beny). None of us had heard of that seasoning, so our friends looked it up on the web when they got back to their marina and learned that it is a part of the cilantro family.

That evening, we were visiting our friends at the marina when a vendor passed by and asked if “the missus” wanted to by some herbs. Our friend said she would love some cilantro, but the vendor said, “I’ve only got shadow beni”. What a coincidence. Actually, he had a whole bunch of shadow beni, so I got some too. It doesn’t look like cilantro, but tastes exactly like it. It lasts longer in the fridge, and I’m convinced it has addictive qualities. I can’t seem to get enough of it. Poor Darrel has gently hinted that he’s getting a little too much in his salads and salsa, but his complaints have fallen on deaf ears.

So if you find yourself in Grenada or Trinidad and can get your hands on some shadow beni (I’m pretty sure it is a legal substance), give it a try. Just be prepared to go through some withdrawal symptoms when your supply runs out.

Sinking Ships – June 11, 2006

Today Darrel and I watched a ship sink. Darrel had noticed that one of the big freighters in the anchorage was listing, and sure enough, it turned turtle and sank. Although it is the first sinking we have ever witnessed, it was pretty unimpressive compared to the movie Titanic. There was a bit of flotsam and some bubbling of water, but no other special effects.

A fellow cruiser called the coast guard on VHF Channel 16 to alert them. They didn’t respond. He made a general query on Channel 68 (the channel that cruisers in Trinidad monitor) to find out how to contact the coast guard. He was informed that he had to telephone them.

Darrel and I don’t have a phone so I guess we’ll be asking our fellow cruisers for help if we ever need it.

A couple hours after the ship sank (it is in 65 feet of water), the coast guard showed up. No one had been on board, so perhaps the coast guard knew that. There is another abandoned ship in the anchorage that looks like it is about to sink. I don’t expect anyone will call the coast guard for that one.

Bread and Potatoes – by Darrel

During my previous career as a researcher of housing technology I came across a number of nifty tricks of the trade. One example, which I often had the opportunity to use, was using bread when doing a plumbing repair. Anyone who has tried to solder copper pipe that has standing water in the line knows that this is an almost impossible task. The dribble of water will steam the joint resulting in a leaky repair. The solution to this is to put a bit of bread in each side of the pipe at the repair location, which will temporarily absorb any water in this location and provide a dry zone to solder. Once the soldering is complete and you reopen the valve, the remaining bread dissolves and quickly washes away.

You are likely wondering what this has to do with my current career, i.e. cruiser. Well it all started back in Saint Martin when the rather large curved window in our salon started to leak. This window is set flush into the deck and has a relatively large gap around its perimeter that is filled with a sealant. Upon close examination I could see a hairline gap in a number of places around this sealant due to it having let go from the fibreglass substrate. I have done a fair bit of caulking in my days as a homeowner but I found this large, long, curved gap intimidating. I knew the most challenging part of this repair would be the final stage, i.e. providing an even and smooth finish. My previous caulking jobs were usually finished with my finger, which I kept dipping in a glass of water, but this gap was 16mm (3/4”) wide and my finger was not going to do the trick. I do have another part of my anatomy that could do it. Unfortunately, Loretta caught me sliding my big toe back and forth over the existing sealant and she asked me what I was up to. When I explained the situation, she quickly put her foot down - on my big toe - and told me we would get someone who knew how to properly undertake this repair in Trinidad.

So here we are today in Trinidad with Scooby doing the repair between the daily rain showers. Of course I am watching him carefully, not because I don’t trust him, but because I want to be prepared to do this type of repair in the future. I asked Scooby how or what he intended to use to finish the bead, hoping it was not his big toe. He replied without hesitation “a potato”. He went on to say that he soaks a potato in water and then slices and scallops it to fit the required contour. These tricks of the trade never fail to amaze me. All I need to do now is figure out a way to do this with the instant smashed potatoes that we normally carry on-board.

Leatherback Turtles – July 2006

Darrel and I finally got off the boat for a while and went on a tour to see the leatherback turtles in Trinidad. Leatherbacks are the largest living turtles and can weigh more than 2,000 pounds. Unlike other sea turtles, the leatherback lacks large, horny scales on its shell; instead, it has leathery skin embedded with a mosaic of small bones. The limbs are strong and paddle-shaped for swimming long distances. The male spends its adult lifetime in the sea; the female emerges only to lay eggs on beaches. Leatherbacks feed mostly on jellyfish. (Thank you Encarta for all this information).

Unfortunately, some leatherbacks confuse discarded plastic garbage bags for jellyfish and, upon trying to eat them, choke and drown on the plastic. We were told that this is a common cause of death. We see a lot of plastic floating in the Trinidad waters and wish there were better waste controls here.

We boarded a “maxi taxi” with eleven others, and endured a rough two-and-a-half-hour ride to Matura Beach, one of the nesting grounds for the leatherbacks. We left at five p.m., and were pleasantly surprised that there was no rush hour traffic to slow us down. Trinidad was playing in the World Cup on that evening, so at 1:30 (just a half hour before the game), the Prime Minister told everyone to go home and watch the game. The roads became so plugged at that time that most Trinis didn’t get home until the game was nearly over. But it did mean smooth sailing for us (except for the last half-hour which was over severely washed-out roads).

We arrived at the beach just after sunset. Our taxi driver, Jessie James, gave us the drill: no lights, stay quiet, photos only when told it is okay, and use lots of mosquito spray. As we were spraying ourselves and unpacking our rain gear (it is the rainy season), Jessie went to the beach to see if the patrol had spotted any nesting turtles. He came running back and announced that indeed there was a female just starting to dig her nest.

We were lucky that night. We were the only group there (sometimes there can be 300 people on the beach), and we were able to watch two females lay their eggs. The biggest treat was that the patrol also found a baby leatherback (freshly hatched from a nest laid months earlier) trying to make its way to the sea. It was on its back beside two headless siblings – the patrol probably found the live one just in time before a crab, dog, or bird bit its head off. We all got to hold it before the patrol took it away to give it time to get a bit stronger before releasing it to the sea. It seemed pretty feisty so we’re hopeful it will survive.

So please discard your plastics carefully – we want our young survivor to eat jellyfish only.

Asphalt and Cremations – July 2006

Jesse James, our favourite tour guide, took us to see Pitch Lake – a huge body of natural asphalt continuously seeping up from the ground in the south end of Trinidad. We were lucky that it had just rained, so it wasn’t too hot or smelly on the lake. It was a little scary walking across the black pitch, but we were assured we wouldn’t sink or stick as long as we followed in the footsteps of the guide.

It was a fascinating tour, and I was especially interested to hear that the lake keeps replenishing itself even though it is mined regularly. However, we did notice that trees and buildings in the vicinity were starting to sink into the lake.

After the tour of Pitch Lake, Jesse took us to a Wild Fowl Trust, but we ran into a traffic jam near a Hindu burning ground. Hindus cremate their dead in a special celebration that involves something very similar to a bonfire. A coffin is placed on enough kindling to ensure a decent cremation. Each coffin has its own bonfire. Trinidad had experienced a particularly rainy spell, which meant that cremations were backlogged. On this particular day, the day of our tours, the sun came out and so did the matches. It was an incredible sight to see, which explains why the traffic was backed up. Everyone seemed to be mesmerized by the fire and smoke, including us.

Anyway, given that Jesse’s tour (which doesn’t usually include the cremations) was the pitch lake and the wild fowl, we suggested to him that he call it the “Tar and Feather Tour”. He’s considering it.

Black Soot – July 2006

How unfortunate that this story follows the one on cremations. However, it is the next semi-significant incident for CanKata’s crew, so here it is.

We stayed in a marina for two days so that we could have some welding and rigging work done. On our first day tied up, a nearby commercial fishing vessel burped out a huge cloud of black smoke. The black soot landed on quite a few boats, but ours happened to be one of the few with her hatches opened, so we were covered inside and out with the soot. We cleaned up immediately, and a downpour of rain shortly afterwards helped out, but we still had to do quite a bit of laundry to get the soot out of curtains, rugs, clothing, etc. We knew which fishing boat was the offender, so I paid them a visit to see what they suggested as a remedy.

At first, they tried to deny that it was their boat, but we had an eyewitness, so I continued with the visits, did some investigative work and found the owner’s name and number. With the cooperation of our marina manager, we started to prepare a complaint letter to the environmental authorities. I left the owner a phone message, giving him one last chance to speak to us before we issued the letter, and he did send a representative the next day to visit CanKata and see some evidence. In the end, the representative decided we were good folk (we invited him aboard for a drink), settled on an amount to reimburse us for laundry costs, and then invited us to a traditional Indian wedding (we had to decline because it was too far away). They have since made mechanical repairs to the fishing vessel, so everyone in the marina is happy. We’re sorry we couldn’t make it to the wedding.

Security, Security – July 2006

There is a boat in the vicinity that is named “Security”. I still get a little alarmed when someone hails it. “Security, Security, Security” is not what you want to hear on the VHF radio.

We have the radio on most of the day. This is a very active cruising community here in Trinidad during the hurricane season, and there are always general announcements and queries being made, and often friends hail us to plan a get-together. Hearing “Security” being hailed would probably not alarm me so much if security weren’t an issue here. Unfortunately, there have recently been a number of dinghy thefts, a hold up, a mugging, and two armed boardings. We have set up a night watch system where each boat, one night a week, gets up for a couple of hours in the middle of the night and flashes a flood light around. There are enough of us that there are floodlights flashing pretty regularly through the night. But there still have been two incidents since we started the night watches. Our activism has spurred on the coast guard and marinas so that security overall has improved a little bit, but obviously not enough.

Other troubling incidents have occurred. Last week, friends of ours had a particularly terrifying experience. They are a young couple with two young children, seven and four. They were getting off their boat into their dinghy, when a fishing boat that was speeding through the anchorage rammed the dinghy. It knocked the dad into the water, rode right on top of the two children, and rammed into the back of their sail boat while the mom watched, horrified, from the sail boat. She was the only one not quite in the dinghy at the time. Miraculously, no one was hurt. The dad managed to manoeuvre to avoid being chopped by the fishing vessel’s propeller, and the children had both ducked into the bottom of the dinghy. The four passengers of the fishing vessel weren’t in any danger, and their boat wasn’t damaged in any way. Our friends’ dinghy suffered considerable damage and the back of their boat needs a lot of repairs, plus they had an authentic dugout canoe on the back of the boat that was badly damaged. But no one was hurt.

Why it happened: the throttle control/steering mechanism on the motor of the fishing vessel had broken off, so the captain was steering by grabbing the motor and turning it from side to side, and was unable to decelerate when he saw he was running into trouble. Sadly, he sees himself as a victim in this accident. “What could I do?” he moaned to our friend.

The response of the cruisers in the anchorage was impressive. Instantly, dinghies were swarming the scene to provide assistance. I wish I could say the Trinidad coast guard was as responsive. We hailed them a number of times before they responded, then they wanted exact coordinates before they would come (“right in front of Power Boat Marina!” wasn’t descriptive enough for them), then it took quite a while before they arrived. But the fishing vessel did wait until the coast guard arrived, so we can only hope that action will be taken to ensure that that particular boat doesn’t ram anyone again. We haven’t seen it in the anchorage since.

So, yes, our ears pop up when we hear “Security” being hailed on the radio.

As a result of all the incidents that have occurred recently, we are even more anxious to leave Trinidad and start our passage west. Soon!

Desert Dust – July & August 2006

This is a “good news, bad news” story.

The bad news first: we’re finding it impossible to keep CanKata clean these days. The good news: African dust blowing into the Atlantic Ocean is impeding the formation of hurricanes.

We didn’t know until we began sailing in the Caribbean how much sand and camel dung could affect the weather. The red Saharan dust can really foil cyclonic air movement. There were a few tropical systems in July that looked like they might form into something menacing, but that good ole African dust calmed them right down.

But our topsides are a mess. A fine, red dust keeps settling on all the boats, and even when it rains, the raindrops wash the dust out of the air and onto our boats. But we’re not complaining. We’d much rather face a dirty boat than a hurricane. Although we are outside of the hurricane zone, we can still get the strong winds that come with them. So three cheers for the dust, and may the Sahara Desert never run dry.

Hard on the Hard – August 2006

We spent a week “on the hard” at Peake Marine in Trinidad. We had to get hauled out of the water to have new anti-fouling paint applied to CanKata’s bottom and to have new rigging installed (a year earlier than necessary, but in a year’s time we will be in a place where no riggers exist). We also had the mainsail and sail cover removed and modified to fit the new mast track system that will make it easier to raise and lower the mainsail.

In her song “The Hard”, Eileen Quinn has this to say:

It’s a hard, it’s a hard

it’s a hard, Lord it’s a hard

it’s a hard, hard life

life on the hard

for every job crossed off my list

I seem to add two more

I blinked and one week in the yard

somehow ran to four

but with a credit card and a little luck

soon we’ll be afloat

please mister lift driver

please don’t drop my boat

The story after this one (Leak at Peake) adds relevance to her lyrics.

While on the hard, we treated ourselves and stayed in an air-conditioned hotel while CanKata baked in the yard. We ate one meal out a day – a big, cheap lunch. We did laundry in the Laundromat (except for when the machines weren’t working). We repeatedly cleaned up after messy workers who forgot to take off their dirty boots and loved to touch anything white with their greasy hands. We arranged to fix things that the workers broke (like the new trampoline that we had installed last time we were on the hard). We wore mosquito repellent, which is something we don’t need to do when we’re at anchor. We bought ice every day because we can’t run our fridge on land and needed to keep some stuff cool (beer, for one). We gave workers cool beer after a job well done (e.g., taking off their boots). We had warm showers every night, well, every night except for the one when there was no water in the hotel.

We are pleased to report that are new standing rigging is tuned and shiny and sound, we have all new running rigging (lines), our trampoline is repaired and reinforced, and CanKata’s bottom is freshly painted. But the story doesn’t end here …

Leak at Peake – one day later

While we were on the hard at Peake Marine, we kept the freezer filled with ice to keep our food cool. As the ice melted, it ran into the bilge. When the bilge fills to a certain level, an alarm goes off and a pump automatically kicks in. We tried to avoid the alarm by sponging out the bilge regularly. However, the first night back in the water, we were awoken in the middle of the night by the shrill beeps of the bilge alarm.

I got up to attend to it. But the port bilge was dry. I checked the panel and saw that the flashing alarm light was for the starboard bilge. I figured that rainwater must have somehow leaked in while we were on the hard, I cleaned it out (forgetting to taste it to see if it was fresh or salty), and went back to bed. A short while later, the alarm went off again. Sure enough, it was the starboard bilge again. This time, I woke up Darrel and gave him the bad news. He did the taste test and, worst luck, it was salty. We had sprung a leak.

We knew it had to be related to something that happened when we were on the hard. There had been a lot of scraping of barnacles, some screwing, and of course the haul out and launch themselves. Diagnosis would probably be difficult. However, we both were pretty suspicious about a previous repair that had been done three years earlier. The yard we wintered at in Sodus Point, NY had damaged CanKata’s keel but had repaired it. Could it be that the strain of the haul out and relaunch had opened up the old injury?

So we had to get hauled out again. We contracted with a marine surveyor to watch the second haul out with us. We thought that a pair of expert eyes would help us diagnose the problem. It turns out that we didn’t really need him – it was immediately obvious that our keel was damaged. The surveyor was able to confirm that the previous repair job had been a sloppy one – the yard at Sodus Point has used a polyester resin instead of epoxy resin. “They got a mechanical bond, but not a chemical one”, was his explanation. “Uh-huh”, was my comment. But Darrel knew what he was talking about and closely monitored the new repairs. Definitely epoxy this time.

It took five days for the repair (mostly drying time). So we repeated the routine for on the hard – ice, beer, laundry, air conditioning, mosquito repellent, showers, and even threw a party (called a “lime” in Trinidad) for the yard workers. We gave them money for some cold beer, arranged to meet them at 4:00 under CanKata, bought some snacks and some more cold beer, invited some cruising friends, got cleaned up, and waited for our partiers to arrive. We were ready for limin’.

Well, everybody showed up, but not at CanKata. We found out later that the Peake limes are held in the shack at the haul-out slip. At 5:00, the time we had to leave to make a dinner date, a couple of yard workers showed up (“Ah, there you are Captain!”) to see why we weren’t at our party. We gave them the extra beer and snacks and then headed off for dinner. It’s not too often that we miss our own parties – in fact, I believe this was a first.

We are back in the water again and the bilge alarm hasn’t gone off. But we are still filling the fridge with ice, because now it has decided to conk out on us. Like Eileen sings: “for every job crossed off my list I seem to add two more” so I’ll end this story now or I’ll never get this update off.

Dead Computer

Just before we left Trinidad, our Toshiba laptop died. Luckily, I had just sent off our website updates for August, and I had backed-up most of our other stuff.

One of our neighbours in the anchorage was a computer expert, but he couldn’t help us – our hard drive was toast. Not knowing that we could buy an affordable replacement hard drive, Darrel and I went off and bought a new laptop. We already had a spare Toshiba on board, but we didn’t want to sail away without a backup in place. So for the next few days, I was very busy reinstalling software on our two working laptops. One of our software CDs was corroded, but a friend had a spare for us. We lost some photographs, communications and email addresses, but for the most part we were able to get up and running again without losing too much. We didn’t toss the old Toshiba, which is a good thing because we were able to buy another hard drive in Bonaire for an affordable price. So that will make it three laptops aboard CanKata. Sounds excessive, but in this salty and hot environment, where we rely heavily on our computer for navigating and communicating, it’s not such a bad idea.

So we are very glad that we have fairly good habits regarding backing up our computer. We are now more diligent than ever.

Off-Shore Venezuela: Night Passage – August 2006

On August 29, we left Trinidad to continue with our circumnavigation. Finally! We got a lot of needed work done while in Trinidad, but CanKata and her crew were chomping at the bit to get moving again. First stop: Los Testigos (the Witnesses), Venezuela.

We left Chaguaramas, Trinidad at 1645 hours, along with the sailing vessel Odyssey – a South African boat heading in the same direction at the same time. We had actually made arrangements to travel with two American S/Vs but they still had some work needing doing, so we hooked up with Jeremy, Vanessa, Kila (7) and Max (4). The passage to the islands of Los Testigos is not the safest … there have been pirates reported off the northern coast of Venezuela. Therefore, we figured it was a good idea to have at least one buddy boat. We also took a couple of other measures to increase our comfort level: we headed north before turning west, adding a number of miles to our journey but steering clear of the northern coast. We also travelled without lights – a scary first for us, but I’ll get into more detail on that later.

What a perfect night for a sail! Once we were well past the Venezuelan coast, we set our course for Los Testigos. Darrel had set three-hour shifts for us, and he started with the 1700-2000 shift. When I started my 2000-2300 shift, we were in “lights out” mode, and I couldn’t see Odyssey. Darrel had the radar on, and there were a few little black specks on the screen. “This one is Odyssey”, he points out. We then made some sail adjustments and had a little snack. When I took over the helm, I wasn’t too sure which black speck on the screen was Odyssey. Given that we were travelling on the same track and fairly close together, and not wanting to run into our buddy boat, I needed to make sure I knew exactly where they were. We hailed them on the VHF (on a pre-selected channel so that we didn’t have to use the regular hailing channel, which would have alerted any pirates in the area that we were there) and asked them to flash their running lights for a couple of seconds. They asked us to do the same, and once we knew exactly where each other was, it was lights out again. I adjusted the radar to eliminate some of the other black specks (waves created by CanKata), and then it became evident that Odyssey was the only vessel in the vicinity.

CanKata has made a number of night passages before, but never with her lights out. I was a little spooked at first, but as the night got darker, the quarter moon got brighter and a zillion starts popped out. As my eyes got accustomed to the dark, I found that the glow of our many instruments was starting to bother my eyes, so I turned down the brightness of the GPS and radar. The little red glow coming from Jenny, our wind generator, was comforting – she was helping to keep our instrumentation running. The glow from our VHF radio indicated that we were on Channel 71, where Odyssey was standing by, and that we were in “dual” mode with Channel 16, in case there were any emergency announcements from a Coast Guard vessel. The little red lights on our “Link 10” showed that there were many hours of use left on our bank of batteries. The “Auto” indicator on our Autohelm showed that Otto (our pet name for him) was working well to keep CanKata on track, and I didn’t have to adjust the steering wheel myself. The indicator on the little highway on our GPS (global positioning system) let me know if I was veering off course, and then I would give Otto a command or two and then, presto, we were back on course. Frequent checking of the radar comforted me that Odyssey was still where she should be, and that no other vessels were in the vicinity.

I looked behind me to see the fading glow of Trinidad. I received a pleasant surprise – there was the constellation Orion the Hunter just above the horizon. He was in an unusual position, laying on his side, so I guess he was still on summer vacation. The Milky Way formed an arch above us, and it truly was milky – so many stars that they formed a puddle of white. The quarter moon was dropping into the west, saying, “Follow me; follow me”. It eventually set and the night became even darker and the stars even brighter. Then the phosphorescence started to glow in the wake of CanKata – stars in the water – beauty all around us.

Off in the distance I noticed some flashing lights, and I checked the radar. Only Odyssey was registering, so I figured it was a small fishing boat. It appeared as though they may be flashing a slow Morse code signal, so I paid close attention. First an E, and then an I, then another E, another I, then an O. EIEIO. Ah, they were flashing Old MacDonald to us. I then noticed I was near the end of my watch, must be hallucinating, and was glad when Darrel took over the helm.

We arrived in the little paradise of Los Testigos at 0900 on August 30. Finally -- white beaches, crystal-clear water, fishing right off our boat, sand dunes to romp in, and friendly locals. Well worth the overnight journey.

Boobies – September 2006

By Darrel

I should start off by clarifying that this entry is not at all related to the boobies that are commonly seen on the beaches of St. Martin, nor is it a self-admittance of character due to some of the things that I have done while cruising. This is about the large tropical seabirds with white plumage and often with brightly coloured bills and web-feet.

We were in the Aves de Barlavento which is one of the most westerly out-islands of Venezuela. Aves in Spanish means birds of prey, and let me tell you that this group of islands is appropriately named since it is home to a large number and variety of boobies, as well as other flying species. The boobies are easily approached and do not seem to mind you taking their pictures even when nesting. We saw some with red feet, blue bills and blue rings around their eyes. The young are all white and quite furry.

Unfortunately, these birds can also be a nuisance. For example, while sailing from one island to the next we were unable to troll since the boobies would dive bomb our lures mistaking it for a tasty snack. They are also known to land on boats and walk around, sometimes falling through an open hatch and becoming trapped inside – which is how the term booby hatch evolved.

I know I have an affinity for boobies. Always have, suppose I always will.

Remoteness – September 2006

For nearly three glorious weeks, the Captain and crew of CanKata couldn’t shop, eat out in restaurants, or make any appointments with guys to work on our boat. For 20 days, there was no loud music coming from shore, no city lights to dull the stars, no crime, and no local cruisers VHF net to let us know when and where the next Mexican Train Dominoes game would be played.

With our buddy boats, Apparition and Wind Machine, we entertained ourselves by exploring uninhabited islands, snorkelling, fishing, beachcombing, watching sunsets, searching for booby nests, and marvelling at the peace and quiet. The highlight of one day was watching the moon rise as the sun set.

For nearly three glorious weeks, we were in the off-shore islands of Venezuela: Los Testigos, Blanquilla, Los Roques, and Las Aves. We scratch our heads when we try to figure out why we spent so much time in the murky waters of Trinidad when we could have been hurricane-safe in these islands. Granted, there are no chandleries or repair shops here, but it would not be that far to sail to a commercial location if needed. Certainly, when we return to the Caribbean after our circumnavigation, we will spend more time in this part of Venezuela. These islands were what we were dreaming of when we planned this adventure.

ABC Islands: Bonaire – September 2006

The island of Bonaire is part of the ABC islands (Aruba, Bonaire and Curaçao) that form the Leeward Netherlands Antilles. It’s not a bad place to be during hurricane season since the ABCs are classed as the least likely to have a tropical storm or hurricane in the Caribbean. The air is pretty dusty, though, and reminds us of our home province, Saskatchewan, on a dry summer day.

The water in Bonaire is incredibly clear, right up to the town dock. Bonaire is noted for its spectacular reefs, and offers snorkelers and divers an “underwater wonderland of intricate corals and dazzling fish”. There are also plenty of flamingos here – the pink plumage, long legs, and slender neck are quite a sight. We were greeted by a formation of four when we arrived. Recognized for its great variety of fauna and flora, Bonaire has designated almost its entire coastline as a marine park and strictly enforces rules regarding its use.

We had to pay for a snorkelling permit (first time ever) but it was worth it. We also had to rent a mooring ball for $10 US a day – there is a “no anchoring” policy in Bonaire to protect the coral, and, perhaps, provide some income for the island. We don’t mind paying, but wish we had more anchoring options. The Customs and Immigration officials were professional and friendly, but made us turn in our flare gun (first time ever). Once we pick it up again, we have one-half hour to leave the island. I guess they’re worried about what we crazy cruisers can do if they let us loose for an hour on their Caribbean island with our flare guns.

Bonaire looks more European than the other islands we have visited, but the culture is still very Caribbean – friendly and slow-paced and lots of loud music until the wee hours of the morning, or later. While this is a small island – population is around 10,000 – the shopping is great. We were able to get all sorts of boat parts and, my favourite: shoes (waterproof Crocs, to be more specific).

The cruisers that are here are all moored in two rows, about 100 and 200 feet from shore in about 20 feet of water, and just a few feet away from where the shelf drops off into 1000 feet of water. We can snorkel right off our boats to enjoy the abundant coral and fish life on the edge of the shelf, and numerous other coral patches inside the mooring field. There are about 35 boats moored here with us, and we have an active social life with them. Tuesdays we have a potluck supper and Thursdays we meet up at a local bar for happy hour. We snorkel regularly with a couple of other boats, and generally follow the snorkelling with drinks and games on one of the boats. Darrel and I still tend to go to bed when the sun drops, so night life for us is virtually non-existent. But our days are so full.

But we do miss the peace and quiet of the off-shore islands of Venezuela, and are looking forward to spending lots of time in the San Blas Islands of Panama, which are also noted for their remoteness. We should be there by late October, and that means it will be lobster season! We hope to be able to put our Hawaiian slings to good use.

Class Project, Marysville School

CanKata is being followed! By a pack of ten-year-olds!

It is not nearly as ominous as it sounds. Our friend Dawn from Cat Tales has arranged a class project with her cousin and fellow teacher Lynn Facey from Alexander Gibson Memorial Elementary School (better known as Marysville Elementary), Lynn is going to have her Grade Four class communicate with us as we circumnavigate so that they can learn more about the life of live-aboard sailors and the places they visit. Since we won’t often have internet access, we will be communicating through our SSB email.

The plan will be to receive a few questions each month from the class. We’ll answer as best we can by email, and will also post the questions and responses on this web site. It should be fun and we are really looking forward to it. I have already put out a challenge to the Grade Fours: When CanKata heads through the Panama Canal from the Caribbean to the Pacific, which direction, i.e. N E W S, will she be travelling through the canal?

Following is our first exchange with Lynn and her students. It was very interesting to see what ten-year-olds are curious about.

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Why did you decide to take such a big trip on a boat for so long? We were born and bred in the Saskatchewan, and maybe all those dusty summers and frigid winters in the prairies are what made us yearn for a life at sea and a life close to the equator. We boated for 8 years in Prince Edward Island and just as many years on the Big Rideau Lake in Ontario and discovered that we loved it.

Where did you start your sailing adventure? We lived in Ottawa and kept our boat in Lake Ontario. We sailed away from Lake Ontario in September 2004.

Why did you buy CanKata? We wanted a catamaran for a number of reasons, such as: it does not heel (lean over when sailing), it can go in shallow water (the draft is 1.2 meters), it has a large cockpit for eating and playing games, and it is very stable and doesn't rock in anchorages. We selected the Privilege because it is strong enough for a circumnavigation.

Do you ever get sea sick? We both have been sick once each. We have taken seasickness medication a few times. Now we have our "sea legs" but are still careful with what we eat and drink when we are on a passage (nothing too spicy).

What is it like being on a sailboat every day and every night? We both love it. Our boat has lots of room and we are mostly outside on the deck or in the cockpit, so we get lots of air and sunshine. We are accustomed to the motion caused by the waves. But we do get to land quite often.

What was Trinidad like? It is a beautiful, lush island with lots of tropical plants and birds and some howler monkeys. The water is a bit murky and it has garbage floating in it. We hope you are all careful about recycling and proper disposal of your garbage.

Does it get cold at night or is it warm all the time? Where we are, it is warm all the time. We never use a blanket when we sleep. After the hot days, it is a relief when the sun sets so that we cool off a little bit. On October 13 in Curacao, the high was 29 degrees and the low was 25.

Is it cold in the winter time? Not here (in the Caribbean). In fact, around here, they don't talk about summer and winter. They use the terms "wet season" and "dry season". The summer months are the wettest.

Do you miss your family? Yes, so we hope they come to visit us often.

Do you miss your friends? Yes, and we hope they come to visit us, too.

Do you miss living in a house? No. We did that for over 50 years and that was enough.

What places have you visited lately? We just visited some small islands to the north of Venezuela, and are now heading to some small islands off the east coast of Panama.

What kind of fish are there? There are many kinds but they can be broken down into two categories; pelagic and reef fish. They all stink after a while once they have been caught.

What is the biggest fish you have seen? We have seen many porpoises, some that were about 1.8 meters in length. The biggest fish we caught was a Dorado measuring 1.2 meters in length.

Have you ever seen a barracuda? We have caught and eaten some, which were very tasty, and we have seen many while snorkeling. None have hurt us except for one that bit Darrel when he was trying to get a hook out of its mouth. It wasn't a serious injury.

Have you ever seen a shark or a whale? We have seen nurse sharks and a couple of whales. We have not been in any areas yet where there are dangerous sharks.

Do you collect sea shells? When we are allowed to, we certainly do. We are collecting special shells with holes in them so we can string them together and make an abacus for our two grandchildren. We have already made two so that we can keep our own scores when playing dominoes and scrabble.

Have you ever watched "Around the World in 80 Days"? No. We're going to take a lot longer than 80 days.

Can you touch the bottom of the ocean? This must be a trick question. When we are swimming at a beach, we touch the bottom of the ocean when we stand up. If we are in 25 feet of water, I can dive down and touch the bottom. If we are in 60 feet of water, my husband can scuba dive and touch the bottom. If it is any deeper than that, then the answer for us would be no.

Did you ever have a pirate on your boat? Never. We did have our car stolen when we were living in Ottawa and our house broken into when we lived in Saskatchewan, though. Pirates are simply thieves who travel on boats and steal from other boats. Just like we locked up our house and car when living on land, we lock up our boat and dinghy.

Do you ever go shopping? Certainly. Where there are people, there are usually stores. We buy groceries and boat parts and sarongs. On the few uninhabited islands that we have seen, there are no stores so we waited until the next inhabited island to shop.

How do you buy groceries? When we anchor at an island, we take our dinghy to shore and then walk to a store. We load groceries in our back packs. We aren't very fussy, so whatever is available is good enough for us. If we know we are going to be away from inhabited islands for a long time, we buy lots of groceries. Then we catch a taxi or bus, if available, to help us with our load.

How do you keep your food? We store our food mostly the same way as you do. We have a fridge, freezer and a pantry. We also store some food in the bilges (area below the floor boards) and in small hammocks hanging in the cockpit.

What would you do if you ran out of food? With all the food on board this is unlikely, but if we were getting low we would be more serious about fishing. In a real emergency we would resort to eating sea birds, insects, and the green slimy stuff that sometimes forms on the bottom of our boat (yummy).

Do you ever go to church? In many islands it is possible for visitors to attend local churches. In Trinidad there was one church service that was held on Sunday mornings in a movie theater, but there was no popcorn.

Are you ever scared living on the boat in the middle of the ocean? I have been scared driving on the freeway, but not sailing in the Caribbean. There is something magical about being on a boat far away from land, especially at night when there are countless stars above us and phosphorescence below us.

How many people have you met? How many countries have you visited so far? We can't answer these questions accurately because, we have discovered, we are not counters. The best we can do is say "lots". We don't plan on keeping track, because the stories we write and memories we have are more important to us. To tell the truth, we aren't even keeping track of the number of miles we are travelling.

How are you doing out in the wild? So far we have visited very civilized islands so it hasn't been "wild" for us yet. The uninhabited islands we have visited were very close to civilization, but it was a lot of fun being away from people and cars and buildings. Everything we needed to survive was aboard CanKata so we didn't have to worry about going hungry or thirsty.

End of first dispatch to the Grade Fours.

Second dispatch, November 30:

How did you get from Lake Ontario to the Atlantic Ocean? We traveled through the Oswego and Erie Canals and then the Hudson River to New York City, mostly using our engines rather than our sails. Then we traveled down the eastern coast to Cape May and then up Delaware Bay to get into Chesapeake Bay. We did a lot of touring and stayed a long time in Annapolis, so it took us about two months. Then we traveled down to Hampton, Virginia where we joined up with 48 other boats. Then we sailed the Atlantic Ocean all the way to Tortola, British Virgin Islands in the Caribbean, approximately 1500 miles. The last part took us nearly 10 days, and we had some stormy weather, so it was very exciting, but safe and fun.

Do you have a cell phone? No, and we hope to avoid getting one as long as possible. It just doesn't fit into the lifestyle we imagined when we set off on this adventure. It seems that most other cruisers do have cell phones.

Where do you do your email? We have a special system on our boat that uses radio waves rather than cable or wire, so we can use that system anywhere. The boat system isn't as powerful as the internet, so when we go ashore we try to find internet cafes to use our hotmail account. Right now in the San Blas Islands, there are no internet cafes but we expect to find one when we get to Panama City at the end of this month. We use the boat system to exchange text messages with a few key people. We use the internet system to update our web site, and exchange messages and photos with numerous friends.

End of second dispatch to the Grade Four Class.

Curaçao – October 10, 2006

Curaçao is called “the ugly industrial sister of beautiful Bonaire”. It is also a cruise ship stop, so there are lots of shops for tourists. The anchorage that we are in is not industrial, nor are there lots of shops. We are a fairly long bus ride away from Willemstad, the main centre, but fortunately we are a short and free shuttle bus ride away from the chandlery and grocery store. We are filling up our pantry and freezer, preparing for the San Blas Islands where there are no grocery stores and where we will be for a few months.

This is also the place where we will pick up an additional crew member, a former colleague, who will help us with our five-day sail to the San Blas.

We have spent a few glorious nights in this anchorage in Spaanse Water (Spanish Waters) here in Curaçao. This is a very calm lagoon with fairly clean water. There is no loud music coming from shore and there are no mosquitoes, so we’ve had some excellent sleeps that we missed when we were in Bonaire. While calm, the nights have been refreshingly cooler than the hot, sunny days. The daytime temperature runs around 29 degrees, while at night it cools down to 25 Celsius.

We haven’t had any time to play here, but there are some great beaches and snorkeling sites that we will visit when we return in a number of years. While we do have a good view of a phosphate pit, we don’t find Curacao to be ugly at all. She’s quite pretty, in fact, and we look forward to returning. For now, we are nearly ready to set sail for the San Blas Islands and new adventures.

Anchor Light at Sunset – October 13, 2006

When CanKata is at anchor, we seldom use her mast anchor light. Instead, to save power, we have a low-amp anchor light that we hang in the cockpit. The sun sets around 0615 and rises at roughly 0630, over 12 hours of darkness, so the savings are significant. Some boats don’t use any anchor light. In many anchorages, like the one we are currently in, it isn’t needed.

But today, right at sunset, the masts of the boats in Spanish Waters will have anchor lights glowing.

Yesterday, there was a death in the anchorage. One of our fellow-sailors died from a heart attack. According to custom, when we lose a fellow sailor, cruisers turn on their anchor lights at sunset. We didn’t know the man who died, but we will respect the tradition. We will reflect sadly on the loss that his family and friends will feel, and we will give thanks that our family and friends are all well.

San Blas: A Slow Passage – October 17-24, 2006

Before we left on our passage to the San Blas Islands, we received weather information through our SSB radio and were assured that we had a good weather window. It was time to go.

On Tuesday, after a quick swim and a healthy yoghurt breakfast, we started on our way to the San Blas Islands with John, a former colleague who joined us as crew for the passage. A pod of porpoises joined us for a while and put on quite a show. The winds were light so we started one of our engines and Darrel did some careful calculations to ensure we had enough fuel to get us to the San Blas Islands. It was going to be close. Although we were enjoying the calm seas and quiet ride, we thought it would be nice to have a bit more wind. As they say, be careful what you wish for.

We got our wish for wind and on Wednesday morning we shut down the motors. However, the winds quickly clocked and were soon on our nose, and our speed over ground was reduced to 2 knots. By noon, we had one motor back on again. By midnight, the winds were up to 27 knots, still right on our nose, and we were making little headway while experiencing a lumpy, bumpy ride. By Thursday morning, we had both engines running and were crashing into large breaking waves, but at least we were making some headway at 4.5 knots. It was when Darrel calculated our fuel consumption that we decided to “heave-to”.

We were not certain that catamarans could effectively heave-to, but on that rough and woolly day we gave it our best effort. We back-winded the partially furled genoa to starboard and turned the helm hard to port. It was a magical moment. The pounding stopped, the rocking softened, and it became incredibly quiet aboard CanKata. We all sighed, put another reef in the main sail, and then switched the pantry from the port aft berth to the front berth. I had made the mistake of trusting the weather predictions and had convinced Darrel that we could sleep in our usual front berth for the passage. The noisy, banging waves on Wednesday that kept disturbing our sleep proved that it was a bad idea, even for our blue-water Privilege, so, with John’s help, Darrel and I moved our sleeping quarters to what had become traditionally known as the pantry. It was a relief.

We were hypnotized by the calmness and lulled into staying hove-to for seventeen hours – until 0900 on the Friday morning. The strong winds and current had pushed us back 25 miles, and now we had a lot of ground to make up. By this time, the seas had calmed considerably, but the winds were still not in our favour. For the next couple of days, we switched between sailing and motor-sailing, tacking this way and that trying to get the most out of the wind, not making much headway but at least sleeping and eating better.

As we made our way westward, Darrel constantly monitored the fuel consumption. On Saturday afternoon, it still looked like we could make the San Blas Islands by Tuesday with a bit of fuel to spare, as long as we got at least 50 miles of sailing in. The winds finally clocked to the right direction on Saturday night, but were a measly 5 knots. We continued to motor-sail.

For the next few days we kept busy trying different sail configurations to make the most of the very light winds. On Sunday, the wind was at our back so we sailed “wing and wing” without motoring, but were still making just over two knots.

The winds were still light the next day, so while we were sailing we were able to jump in for a swim and hang onto a tow line, one at a time. And we were catching lots of fish and eating well.

Finally, by Tuesday morning, we reached the San Blas Islands. It had taken us one full week. Seven days. 170 hours to go 540 nautical miles. Average speed: 3.17 knots. It was our slowest passage ever, but all and all it wasn’t too bad – we had arrived safe and sound.

Clean Boat – October 26, 2006

We finally have a clean boat. The dirt and grime from Trinidad and Bonaire has been flushed off CanKata. She got a great salt bath during our seven-day journey from Aruba to the San Blas Islands of Panama, and then we were greeted by a huge downpour of rain upon our arrival. CanKata’s topside is squeaky clean. I had to do a bit of scrubbing and oiling of the teak, but everything else was taken care of by nature. What a treat!

Home Delivery – October 2006

The Kuna Indians of the San Blas Islands are a friendly and gentle people. And industrious. At least once a day, we hear a quiet “hola” (hello) and find a dugout canoe at our transom. Most often it is a woman and her children wanting to sell us their famous “molas” or beadwork, and sometimes it is the fishermen of the village selling us crab or lobster, or it is the coconut caretaker with a “coco” for us. From time to time there is fruit and vegetables, and once Darrel bought a huge bunch of green bananas for just fifty cents. Always, the prices are reasonable and never do we have a pressure salesman (unlike the boat boys of the eastern Caribbean).

While we have enjoyed all the edibles, it is the molas that have taken the biggest chunk of our budget. They are colorful, intricately designed and sewn panels (reverse appliqué) that can be used for cushions, purses, blouses, wall hangings, and whatever else the creative cruiser can think of. Ours will be given away as gifts.

Burning Garbage – October 2006

The day before Halloween, we had a huge bonfire. We didn’t roast corn-on-the-cob, but we did burn all our plastic and paper.

We had heard that there was an island in the Eastern Holandes Cays, San Blas, called “Pot Luck Island”, so we decided to visit it. Sure enough, on Mondays there is a 4:30 pot luck for cruisers (finger foods only) that also features a garbage burn. The one we attended was managed by an engineer who assured us that there would be no residue left from the burning plastic. “It releases toxins into the air, so I wouldn’t stand near the smoke”, he cautioned us. His young daughters, with machetes in hand, were chopping us some palm fronds, and other cruisers were scouting around for driftwood. “You get a great flash from the palms, but it’s the driftwood that gives you the best burn”, we were informed.

While we enjoyed some sweet rolls, olives, popcorn, my sardine pâté, and birthday cake, we were thrilled to see our bag of plastic, which we had been accumulating for a number of weeks, go up in smoke. We try to avoid bringing plastic onto CanKata, but it seems to be mission impossible. For instance, meat always comes wrapped in plastic.

We first declared plastic as our enemy when we saw tons of it floating in the waters around Trinidad. Here in the San Blas Islands, the Kuna Indians haven’t had much exposure to plastic, and still think they can dispose of it the way they dispose of all their other garbage – by throwing it into the sea. The sea can handle just about anything – aluminum, tin, paper, glass – but not plastic. We had planned to hold onto ours until we reached Panama City, where we hoped there would be a proper disposal system.

So it was a relief to be able to get rid of it ourselves, knowing it wouldn’t be tossed into the sea to float for countless years.

We didn’t roast any marshmallows over the burning plastic, but it was still fun to stand under the palm trees and watch the glowing embers while the sun set over the beautiful Caribbean waters.

When you are at the News Stand

When you are next at a news stand, you might want to check out the Nov/Dec and Jan/Feb issues of Multihulls Magazine. We are supposed to have stories in each edition. They also have a website www.multihullsmag.com that provides a highlight of the contents.

Benezuela

By Darrel

Having studied three different languages, four if I include Morse code, and according to some not fluent in any, I feel that I am appropriately qualified to write this article. For those of you who have studied Spanish, you may want to skip this article. For the rest of you, consider this your first lesson to a wonderful language.

The other day we had a visitor aboard CanKata, a young female cruiser, whose mate was away for a short period of time. Paola comes from Columbia and therefore speaks Spanish. Fortunately she is also quite good in English. Loretta and I took this opportunity to try to expand (or in my case triple) our understanding of Spanish. During our discussions which flowed back and forth from Englanish to Spenglish I was reminded of something that we had learned during one of our very first Spanish courses back in Ottawa. In Spanish, the letters B and V are pronounce exactly the same, for example Venezuela is actually pronounced as Benezuela. I often become intrigued by rules of confusion so I asked Paola how does this work, in other words how do you know if a word is spelled with a B or a V when you hear it for the first time. She explained that when you are a young student, two of the first words that you learn along with the ABCs are Burro (which is a donkey) and Vaca (which is a cow). Remember that Vaca is pronounced as Baca. To spell a word, you would then say B as in Burro or B as in Vaca (pronounced as Baca), depending on which of the two letters you want to demonstrate. So to say and spell the words Bacon (pronounced Bacon) and Vertical (pronounced Bertical) you would spell bacon as B as in Burro, a, c, o, n, and vertical as B as in Vaca, e, r, t, i, c, a, l.

The next day I was still intrigued by this rule of confusion so I asked Loretta who is a Ham operator and therefore knows the Phonetic Alphabet, “knowing that when spelling a word with a B you use the word Bravo, and when spelling a word with V you use the word Victor, how would this be dealt with by a Spanish speaking Ham?”

Bery interesting eh!

Paradise

By Darrel

When I was at university I had to write an essay on Utopia. I wish I knew then what I know now.

Imagine three remote islands clumped in close proximity, where there is no one around for miles and their sandy-beaches are surrounded by warm, clear, turquoise water which is teeming with fish and colourful coral. You anchor in the middle of the three islands where the water is calm yet you still are exposed to the gentle trade winds which are necessary for Genny to generate wind power. Okay, I admit it; you may have to wear ear plugs to eliminate the whir of Genny. During the day you are visited by natives from afar who have traveled out to see you in their dug-out canoes; the first to sell you two humungous crabs, and the second to sell you fresh fruit and vegetables. No other unwanted visitors, leaving you to your own paradise and to live, swim, play djembe drums, sing (or yelp) and dress, or undress, the way you want to. The only sound and movement you detect is the pelicans diving the nearby waters to catch their prey, fish and rays jumping out of the water, and the odd coconut being overtaken by the forces of gravity and making a thump sound as it meets the sandy terrain below. The air and water temperature are the same, at a constant 30 C. The sky is clear during the day, providing power for your photovoltaic panels, and into the early evening enabling you to gaze the heavens above and ensure all the stars and constellations are properly aligned. After you call it a day and are tucked away in bed with your mate and a good book there is a gently rainfall which fills your rain-collection buckets for washing and rinsing the following day. Loretta and I found this piece of paradise in the San Blas.

Jaws 23

By Darrel

Ever since Loretta and I started snorkelling in oceans I have tried to prepare myself for the eventuality of meeting up with a shark. I knew it was inevitable and just a matter of time so I wanted to be ready for this encounter and not panic when it happened. We have already seen a couple of small nurse sharks but they were dormant and just resting on the bottom about 20 feet below. Well the other day Loretta and I were out hunting for dinner with our pole spears and we had each gone our own way – mainly to avoid the possibility of accidentally spearing each other. I had combed the reef wall which was about 14 feet deep and had noticed a number of large Parrot fish up on top of the coral reef swimming through the many valleys and channels that formed at the top of the reef. It was quite spectacular and was similar to swimming through a maze of valleys which were about 12 feet wide and 4 feet deep. The water at this point was only about two feet above the top of the reef so it was essential to stay in the valleys. I was keeping track of where I was in relation to the exits and decided to go down a short valley which was a dead end, but full of fish. Just after getting into this dead-end valley I turned around and saw three very large Black Jacks slowly swimming along the valley from which my valley opened into. Immediately behind the three Jacks was a 6 foot Reef Shark slowly swimming with a sideways swaying motion. I don’t think I really noticed how a shark swam until I had one about 10 feet away from me. This group reminded me of a small gang sauntering down the street, the little thugs with the big mouths out front and the big tough guy immediately behind to offer protection. Being in the dead-end valley, I was ready to make sure the shark noticed me before he decided to head down “my” valley, but luckily for me he had no interest in coming in my direction so I could just stay put and watch this beautiful but somewhat scary beast slowly swim by. My adrenalin was running but I remained calm and collected thanks to having prepared myself for this encounter. I hope that, by having this one behind me, it will make the next one even a little bit easier, but I doubt it.

You Might Always Get What You Want – November 2006

By Loretta

We are currently in the remote San Blas Islands, so there are no grocery stores in the vicinity. Cruisers come well stocked with provisions bought in Curacao or Cartagena or Panama City or any other shopping centre along their route to here.

But sometimes, we run out of things. Or, we realize that we haven’t bought an item that is essential for our favourite recipe. For example, the other afternoon we had visitors from the only other boat in our anchorage, and the missus, Bev, was watching me prepare the mini pizzas that I was serving for a snack.

“Oh – you have black olives”, she said with a jealous note.

“Do you need some?” I asked.

“I’m dying for some”, she sighed. “I couldn’t find any in Cartagena”.

“No problema”, I said in Spanish as I loaded up a little jar for her.

“Is there anything you need?” she asked.

“Well, as a matter of fact, I just ran out of curry powder”, I complained.

“I have plenty. I’ll bring you some tomorrow”, she offered.

Not only did I get curry powder, but Bev also shared some fresh basil and a good supply of limes she picked up during her recent trip to Cartagena.

The next day, we were “hunting” (which is fishing with pole spears) with the same friends, and all managed to catch something.

Bev called me on the radio. “You wouldn’t happen to have any Old Bay aboard would you?” I only just learned of this tasty spice mixture for seafood since becoming a cruiser, and had two jars aboard. I negotiated a trade, and ended up with a little pack of roasted sesame seeds.

Both Bev and I were lamenting that we had very little fresh fruits and vegetables left. She was a bit better off, having just visited Cartagena, but I was out of everything but garlic. No onions, no tomatoes, no bananas … virtually nothing in the “fresh” category. We were suffering through canned peaches and canned green beans. The very next day, almost as if they had been eavesdropping, four Kuna men in a small merchant boat pulled up to us offering “frutas y legumbres” (fruits and vegetables). For $20 I loaded up my fruit and vegetable hammocks: onions, tomatoes, bananas, melons, cucumber, carrots, lettuce, oranges, apples, and even some potato chips. The only two items on my list that I couldn’t get were avocados and mangos. Ah – the thrill of a fresh salad after a week of canned vegetables.

The other day, we were back “hunting” but we were skunked. Actually, Darrel did catch one small “squirrel” fish but it certainly wasn’t enough for a meal. Just as we got back to a boat, a Kuna canoe pulled up with lobsters for sale. We bought three for $7. We gave them a “regalo” (gift) of a nice-sized coil of rope, and they reciprocated with a huge crab. We really feasted that night.

I ran out of oats yesterday, but I’ve got some corned beef to spare. I guess I’d better give Bev a call.

Blame It on the Rain – November 2006

By Loretta

One Sunday morning, Darrel and I selected the reef we were going to hunt at and then waited for the Kuna fishermen to finish their morning work before we headed out into their territory. It was about 10:00 and calm after a stormy night. Lots of rain had fallen, and I happily tossed our laundry into the buckets of fresh water that we had caught off our canopy. Once I had the laundry soaking and once we saw the Kunas heading back to their island, Darrel and I hopped into the dinghy with our pole spears and snorkel gear and headed to a reef.

It looked like it was going to be good hunting. Previously, our luck had been good on this particular reef and we expected the same on this day. We stayed closed to our anchored dinghy so that we could quickly flip our catches into it before some bigger, hungrier fish decided to make our catch their meal of the day. We went off in different directions, feeling pretty confident about getting something for supper.

All of a sudden, I saw an underwater cloud coming towards me, from the south, from the mainland (six miles away from CanKata). I swam in various directions trying to avoid it, but it was huge and it was moving quickly. I soon lost sight of the dinghy and of Darrel and of the reef. I poked my head above water and saw murky water and debris all around me. I could see that I was still close to the dinghy and that Darrel was just beyond it. I quickly swam to him (he couldn’t see me coming so I approached noisily, knowing he was armed), and we agreed that hunting on that particular reef was over. We got back in the dinghy and saw that we were completely surrounded by the cloudy water. Such a change from the usually crystal-clear sea! Then we realized that the storm waters from the mainland must have overflowed the banks of Panama’s Rio Diablo (truly a “devil river” today) and were spilling into the Caribbean. The entire cluster of islands where we were anchored was engulfed in the murky water. No more snorkelling on this particular Sunday.

The next morning, the water seemed to have cleared somewhat, but we were on our way anyway – further north, further from Rio Diablo. We anchored in what is known to cruisers as “the swimming pool”, a calm anchorage nested between four islands and a vast stretch of reef protecting us from rolling seas. One of the four islands is known as “potluck” island where cruisers meet up to share snacks and burn garbage. The water is crystal clear, and we have been learning from the other cruisers where the fishing is best.

“Please don’t fish in the swimming pool”, begged Tom. “The fish here are our pets”. Like trigger fish Bob, who is fed by the cruisers and hovers around the boats. “It’s okay if you fish the reefs”, Tom continued, “but please leave our pets alone. Yesterday I saw a carcase of a trigger fish float by. I hope it wasn’t Bob!”

So we’ll soon hit the reefs. But I think we’ll leave the trigger fish alone.

Jury-Rigging

Jury-Rig: to do something in makeshift manner: to build something in a makeshift way or fit something out, especially a boat, with makeshift equipment. (Thank you Encarta Reference Library)

A good example of jury-rigging: There are no hardware stores in the San Blas Islands. No Canadian Tire. No Wal Mart. So when the rubber bumper on our toilet seat disintegrated, Darrel couldn’t simply dinghy to shore then hop on a bus and ride into town to buy what he needed. What he did was dig out an old white plastic cutting board, cut a strip off it, cut it in half, sand the two pieces into the right shape, and then glue the new little bumpers to the bottom of the toilet seat. Perfect! And he even remembers to put down the seat.

Yahoo Wahoo

By Darrel

The night before we left the San Blas, we were getting CanKata prepped for the 10 hour sail from Porvenir to Portobelo. I was in the process of choosing a lure for my fishing rod and decided on one that I had not used in quite some time, my old white and red plug. In the past I have caught Barracuda with it but then it stopped catching and only went fishing. I told Loretta that I was going to catch a Wahoo tomorrow. Now this may seem a bit strange since first of all I have never caught a Wahoo and as a matter of fact I have never even seen a Wahoo. A fellow cruiser told me when we first started cruising that if you catch a fish that looks like a Barracuda but is missing the very sharp and long teeth, don’t throw it back since it will be a Wahoo which is a highly esteemed food fish. A couple of weeks ago we were invited onboard Gabrielle for a dinner party and they served up Wahoo – it was absolutely delicious. Another local cruiser mentioned on the net one day that he had caught a Wahoo during his last trip from Colon to the San Blas, which was the same route that we were about to embark on. Thus my aspirations to catch a Wahoo.

The next day, about 4 hours into the trip, my old faithful was back to its old trick of fishing and not catching so Loretta decided to put out her line. I knew then that my chances of catching the first fish were now very slim. While Loretta was in the process of letting out her line my rod started to ziiiinnnngggggg which meant I had a fish and a big one at that. Loretta immediately brought in her line so we would not catch two fish, which often happens especially in the case of Doradoes since they often swim in pairs. I started bringing in my line, which is a hundred pound test, and without being able to see the fish I knew it was something big. I hoped that it was not a shark because if it was I knew that I would be bringing it in close to the boat and then cutting my line, thus loosing my old faithful white and red plug. As I was reeling in the fish, Loretta cried out “now that is team work”. At the time I was too busy to respond but I thought it was related to her assisting me with landing the fish. It wasn’t until later that Loretta informed me that her participation in the team catch was due to her lure acting as the teaser and was responsible for attracting the fish. We were currently motorsailing and doing 7.5 knots so I asked Loretta to slow down CanKata; it was taking every bit of strength I had to bring in the fish. Once I got it to within 30 feet of CanKata we were able to see that it was not a shark but something that looked like a huge Barracuda – or was it a Wahoo? As soon as I dragged it close to CanKata I looked into this fish’s mouth to see what kind of teeth it had. Yahoo, its teeth were quite small, albeit still very sharp, so I knew we had caught our first Wahoo. It was a beauty at that, about 40 pounds and just as tasty as our previous experience.

It’s a Privilege – December 2006

CanKata is a Privilege catamaran, built in France. There are few Privileges around – they aren’t a “big production” boat like the Fountaine Pageots, Lagoons, Mantas, Prouts, or Catanas. Only about 100 Privileges are built a year.

So we were amazed to see another Privilege in the Colon anchorage with us. They, too, were heading through the Panama Canal. And when they put out a call looking for line handlers to assist them through the canal, we jumped at the chance. On December 20, we joined Holger, Gloria and their precious 3-year-old daughter Aurora Ulani on their sailing yacht “Dharma Bum” – what a wonderful name – to make their way up 3 locks to Gatun Lake, across the lake the next morning, and then down 3 locks into the Pacific Ocean. Also with us were Helmut (another line handler) and an adviser. Actually, on day two, there were two advisers (one was a trainee). Gloria was kept busy handling lines, attending to Aurora Ulani, and keeping us all watered and fed.

One amazing part of Dharma Bum’s transit was that they were the only boat in the locks on the way down. Fifty-two million gallons of fresh water were used for one small sailing yacht. Now that’s service.

It all went very well and we are hoping for as smooth a transit for CanKata. We’ll tell you all about it in our next update.

All the Best for 2007

What a year 2006 was: we visited 17 different countries and covered more than 2700 nautical miles. We hope you enjoyed reading about our adventures. Our next update will have tales from the Pacific, and will also fill you in on how we spent Christmas in a jungle river.

We wish all our family, friends, former colleagues, fellow cruisers and other readers all the best for 2007. May you never have sand in your mud!

Jungle Christmas

We spent Christmas 2006 in the Rio Chagres, Panama, with our buddy boat Nakiska. There were similarities to a Canadian Christmas – it was calm and bright; there were green and fragrant trees. But there were vast differences – howler monkeys, three-toed sloths, parrots, alligators, and hot, muggy weather.

We went for the traditional meal: Darrel found a 12-pound turkey that fit in our oven (after he compressed the breast bone) and Nakiska helped with the trimmings. We decorated our 12” evergreen tree and played our Christmas music. Both boats – the only two in the river for the event - put up Christmas lights. We sang Christmas carols at the top of our lungs and no one complained. We drank eggnog and had Christmas pudding and talked about all the ways we were going to use the left-over turkey. Santa Claus paid a visit to Nakiska, but missed CanKata … again.

There was no snow, no sleigh bells, no Frosty, but it was a wonderful Christmas nevertheless.

Fixed in the Canal

There are so many meanings to the word “fix”. For example, cruisers spend a lot of time fixing their yachts. If they don’t, they could find themselves in a fix. They also have to take a regular fix of their position; otherwise they could find themselves in a fix. My on-line dictionary has eighteen definitions for fix as a verb and seven for the noun. In this article, I am talking about fix as “a dose of something pleasurable” (e.g. a chocolate fix).

We got a couple of “fixes” lately – a grandchild fix and a son fix.

We went through the Panama Canal as line handlers on S/Y Dharma Bum III. They have a three-year-old daughter, the same age as our granddaughter, and we loved the two days we got to spend with her. We again crossed the canal as line handlers on S/Y Nakiska, and their third line handler was a young lad from Argentina named Gerry who reminded us very much of our son, Dylan. We loved the two days we got to spend with him. So although we are not completely “fixed” (we still greatly miss our son and his family), we certainly enjoyed those pleasurable doses.

Transiting the Canal – December 2006

We were very lucky to have had the experience of transiting the Canal with Dharma Bum III as line handlers. We then knew what to expect when we transited with CanKata … mostly. There was just one little surprise.

The experience started out as it should. Our advisor showed up in Colon at 4:30 p.m. on December 28, as scheduled. We were ready with our four huge lines and protective tires hanging all around our boat. Our three line handlers – Bev and Trevor from Nakiska and Holger of Dharma Bum III had already boarded at 3:00 p.m. Darrel had raised and cleaned the anchor prior to the advisor’s arrival, and we had the engines running. We had paid a small fee to an agent who had got our lines and tires for us, scheduled our transit with the Canal authorities, arranged for the advisor, and made sure we had all the necessary papers. We were all set to go. All we had to do was wait for the freighter “Calanda” to join up with us, since we had been scheduled to go up the locks with her.

We were hampered by a sudden downpour – it was nearly the end of the rainy season but the clouds in Colon still had a lot of moisture to give up. It was warm, so getting wet wasn’t too bothersome, and the rain did stop before we entered the locks.

At 5:30, when the rain stopped, Calanda entered the first lock, and we followed her in. It was an incredibly smooth operation. Darrel was at the helm; Bev, Trevor, Holger and I handled the lines with the four Canal handlers; and Roy the Advisor gently called out instructions to us all. By 7:10 p.m., we were up through all three locks and safely secured in Gatun Lake at the top of Panama. We said farewell to our advisor and then celebrated the end of the first leg with champagne, a fine dinner, scotch on the rocks, djembe drumming, and a very late night. Fellow cruisers on the catamaran “Margot” followed shortly after, and we were the only cruisers in the lake overnight.

The next morning, Advisor No. 2 – Astro - hopped aboard at 6:30 and we leisurely followed Margot for five hours across Gatun Lake to the first lock taking us down to the Pacific side of Panama. This was when we got our little surprise.

CanKata had four line handlers and Margot had four line handlers (making eight in total), but the Canal authorities only had four line handlers available but still wanted us both to lock together. So we had to “nest” together, effectively becoming one unit going through the three locks. It sounded tricky, but our advisor said “no hay problema”. He was right: Captain Darrel and the captain of Margot managed to manoeuvre the two tightly-tied-together catamarans with little difficulty. There was a worrying moment when one of Margot’s lines was fastened to the wrong bollard, but with a great cooperative effort, the boats were held in place safely away from the lock walls. We even found time to wave and throw kisses at the tourists at the Miraflores lock station. This was also the spot where the webcam took our picture, and some of our family got to see us on the internet.

By 2:00 in the afternoon, we were anchored in the Pacific Ocean, at La Playita. Like the fellow said, “No hay problema”. It was problem free, almost pleasant.

Darrel and I transited the Canal three times: once as line handlers for Dharma Bum III, once in CanKata (with help of line handlers from Dharma Bum III and Nakiska), and once as line handlers for Nakiska. Many cruisers do the same thing. Here’s how it works:

A boat needs five people: one helmsman and four line handlers (not counting the one advisor supplied by the Canal – which brings the total to six).

A boat usually has two people aboard, therefore needs three more.

Since most boats only have two people aboard, you need to get three people from two other boats.

Generally, you reciprocate line handling (they handle yours, you handle theirs).

That means you have to handle lines on two other boats besides your own which equals three transits through the canal.

FIRST TRANSIT: on another boat (Dharma Bum III) so you “learn the ropes”, after asking someone (Nakiska) to guard your boat in Colon (Caribbean side). In this instance, Dharma Bum is the only boat in the descending locks – 52 million gallons of water for one sailing yacht. After the two day transit, upon arrival in La Playita (Pacific side), take the bus back to Colon, and then prepare your boat for the transit. Baby-sit Nakiska, who are line handlers for another boat (Pilgrim II who have Gerry aboard. He’s the one who reminds us of our son). Two days later, pick up your three line handlers, start your engines, anchors aweigh, and gingerly pick up advisor from passing pilot boat.

SECOND TRANSIT: on your own boat with three line handlers from two other boats (Dharma Bum III and Nakiska, who have returned from their first transit on Pilgrim II). The advisor decides to raft two boats together (us and Margot) for the descending locks – which proves problem free but worry full.

After transit, upon arrival in La Playita, take the bus back to Colon, after asking someone (Dharma Bum III) to guard your boat. Wait for pickup in Colon marina by other boat (Nakiska).

THIRD TRANSIT: on Nakiska as “experienced” line handlers whom the advisor loves. The advisor therefore decides to raft THREE boats together – which proves problem free but worry full. After transit, upon arrival in La Playita, relax and enjoy the Pacific!

Gabrielle

If you want a great vacation in the San Blas Islands, check out this website:

www.outislandcruising.com

We toured Gabrielle and met the owners/operators: a beautiful boat, wonderful people. And there can’t be many places as wonderful as the San Blas.

Still Surviving – February 2007

By Darrel

When we were landlubbers, one TV show that both Loretta and I enjoyed watching was “Survivor”. Since cruising, we have had a few “Survivor” encounters. For instance, when we were in the British Virgin Islands, we ran into a few “ex-survivors” from one of the earlier Survivor shows that we believe was filmed here in the Los Perlas Islands.

Over two years later, a few days after arriving at Las Perlas, we discovered that Turkey was doing a Survivor show here. This concerned us somewhat since we had been informed by some cruisers who were in Las Perlas at the time of the filming of one of the USA Survivor shows that many cruising areas and islands were “off-limits”. Even a cruise ship was requested to leave the vicinity.

We soon found out that Turkey was not quite as rigid as the USA. We had visitors at the time, and they mentioned to us that they were sitting in a restaurant on Contadora Island and noticed a group of people who all had backpacks and life jackets. We later found out that this was the Turkish Survivor contestants waiting for their transportation to their remote island.

Later that same week we were anchored off the beach at the south end of Contadora in a small out-of-the-way quiet bay when we noticed the locals were constructing some kind of shelter with a frond covered roof. Nearby but out of filming range there was a tent set up with a couple of chairs and a cooler. After dark we noticed a campfire on the beach and some bright lights. The next morning all the Survivor participants could be seen rolled up in blankets sleeping on the beach. They were soon picked up by a motorboat and transported to Chapera and Mogo Mogo, two uninhabited islands a few miles away from Contadora.

Our next trip to land confirmed that what we saw were the Survivors and were also informed that the tribal council, where the participants visit every third day to have one participant voted off the island, was only a few hundred feet from where we were currently anchored. I suggested to Loretta, only in fun, that we should visit the Turkish production people and offer a day sail aboard CanKata as a reward for some of the contestants during the Survivor show.

Over the next couple of weeks, we saw the survivors a number of times either at Contadora where they were disappearing one by one or on the beach at Chapera or Mogo Mogo as we sailed past. While we tried to stay inconspicuous and out of their way, at times they actually acknowledged our presence with friendly waves. We even witnessed a “reward” when one of the teams was treated to a party in a hut at a beach that we were anchored at.

About three weeks into Survivor, when there were only about eight participants remaining, we returned to Contadora to await the arrival of my sister, Dawn and her husband, Rob and were again anchored in the bay near beach. We were entertaining four visitors that we had met on the beach that day when a motorboat approached CanKata with two locals and a foreigner and I immediately guessed why. The female foreigner introduced herself as a Survivor production member and was wondering if we would be interested in taking two survivors aboard CanKata for a luxury day sail reward. We told her we would be interested to discuss it further but that we were picking up two guests the following day and therefore there would be four of us aboard. She quickly informed us that only the Captain would be allowed to stay on board with the survivors and film crew, but they would put the other three up at the Contadora Resort for the day. We weren’t too keen on that idea, but said we would think about it and let them know the following day. Unfortunately we never did manage to meet up again with the production crew, and a local charter yacht was selected for the adventure.

Our last Survivor encounter involved a tour of the Tribal Council set on Isla Contadora. It was a bit of a hike and we weren’t too sure if we would be allowed in, but the crew were very friendly and even let us stand at the voting box. None of us were voted off.

We still like the concept of Survivor, although we are now wondering if it is a gruelling for the survivors as we first thought. One thing we know for sure – it’s tough catching fish!

Catching Fish – February 2007

By Loretta

One great thing about being in Panama is that there are no restrictions on spear fishing. Most of the Caribbean Islands do not allow it. We got our first taste of regular spear fishing in the San Blas, and are continuing to hone our skills in Las Perlas.

It’s not as easy as we hoped it would be. It seems that when we are snorkelling without our spears, there are scads of fish and most of them have “no fear”. As soon as we arm ourselves, the little devils disappear, or at least keep a safe distance away. So we have had to learn to become stealth snorkelers – breathing slowly and quietly through our snorkels, trying to flap our fins soundlessly, remembering not to squeal with delight when we find “the big one”.

But we have met with success. Among our catches include: crab, stingray, grouper, snapper, parrot fish, squirrel fish, jacks, and lobster. We also troll when we are sailing, resulting in meals of tuna, dorado, wahoo, mackerel, and barracuda.

I have also mastered diving for oysters, and we have had many a delicious snack elegantly presented on mother-of-pearl dishes that we can throw overboard when we are finished with them.

So although we have to work hard for our food, we are not going hungry. We are surviving nicely.

Provisioning – March 2007

Soon Darrel and I will be at sea for over three weeks, heading for French Polynesia. In order to ensure we continue to survive nicely, we have had to do some careful provision planning. Since the South Pacific is a very expensive place to shop, we have decided that we will be stocking CanKata with nine months (forty weeks) worth of essential items.

We have spent two days grocery shopping and plan to spend the next two days doing the same thing. Forty weeks is 280 days – that’s a lot of meal planning! We hope that our luck with fishing continues, but in case it doesn’t, we have bought a supply of canned fish and meat. I will grow our own sprouts, and we will supplement that with some canned corn. Pasta and dried potato flakes take up a lot of our pantry space. We have Tang crystals in lemon, orange and pineapple flavours. Powdered milk will be used for our homemade yoghurt. Spices, flour, sugar, cleaning products, personal care products (four toothbrushes each) and boat cleaning products have been checked off the list. On our last day, we will buy stuff for the fridge (cheeses, butter), fresh fruit and vegetables (long lasting ones like carrots, cabbage, apples), and a few dozen eggs that have never been refrigerated, so that we don’t have to put them in the fridge.

Poor CanKata is sitting a little lower in the water with all the extra provisions on board. But we know that as each day goes by and as each meal is consumed, the load will lighten.

This is an exciting part of our adventure – planning and preparing. We are doing our best to ensure that we will have everything we need … there are no corner stores between here and French Polynesia for emergency shopping!

The Dry Season – March 2007

Panama takes its seasons seriously. It rained a lot during the rainy season. Then on December 31, the end of the rainy season, the rain stopped. For the two months of the dry season, January and February, it has not rained a drop. Zero precipitation.

Too bad Canada doesn’t take “summer” as seriously.

This month, the trade winds are supposed to kick in. If the weather follows its usual pattern, we should have the wind at our backs on our way to French Polynesia, first pushing us south past Galapagos, then westward towards the beautiful South Pacific Islands that we are anxious to explore. We have done everything that we can to prepare for this journey, and now have to put our fate in the hands of Mother Nature. We love and respect her dearly, and hope she’s in a good mood for the next little while.

So that’s it for news for a while. We will keep in touch with our son and his family through our SSB radio while we are out at sea, and look forward to our next Internet Café stop in French Polynesia (hopefully by the end of April) to get in touch with the rest of you.

Thirty Days at Sea – March/April 2007

We thought it was going to be thirty days at sea. Turned out to be thirty-six. But it was okay … here’s the story:

Darrel set up a watch schedule that worked well for us, allowing us to get at least six hours sleep at night (I say “at least” because I often napped during my watches) plus a few naps during the day if we needed them. When I napped during my watch, I set the alarm for every 15 minutes to ensure that we were on course and that I knew if we were near another vessel or if there was a storm brewing. The sound of flogging sails wakes me up immediately – a very effective alarm.

The schedule:

L 0800-1000 (D will stand watch if I am still making breakfast, then he’s on to boat maintenance)

D 1000 – 1200 (L busy in galley, does emails)

L 1200 – 1400 (D will stand watch if I am still making lunch)

D 1400 – 1600 (L does dishes, laundry, writing)

L 1600 – 1800 (Snack and play time for both: cards, dominoes, reading, whatever)

D 1800 – 2000 (Ditto, plus bath time)

L 2000 – 2300 (Start of 3-hour watches, D goes to bed; L hits the spits – i.e. eats sunflower seeds to stay awake)

D 2300 – 0200 (D enjoys the thermos of hot chocolate that I have left him)

L 0200 – 0500 (This is the watch where I will usually nap)

D 0500 – 0800 (Last of 3-hour watches, D downloads and analyzes weather files)

WEEK ONE, March 7-14: Our first week of the passage from Panama to Marquesas was excellent, except for the fact that we caught no fish. We did snag a booby but managed to let it go, and then a booby hitched an overnight ride with us. A friend sent us a recipe for booby, but we haven’t caught once since. The winds and seas were favourable, and our fuel consumption was moderate – actually below the allotment for Week One.

Notable log entries for this period:

v “Where is everybody?!” – We went for days and days without seeing another vessel.

v “No fish today.” – This was written too many times. Darrel did see a sail fish on March 10.

v “Darrel fixed leak in galley faucet.” Even 400 miles from shore I can get a plumber.

v “South of the Equator!” – We left the northern hemisphere on March 14.

WEEK TWO, March 14-21: Life goes on as usual. I’m doing laundry and making bread, Darrel is polishing the stainless steel or making brownies, and we’re both wondering where the rest of the world is. We are enjoying calm seas and light winds, but are not making much progress – we are averaging only 90 nautical miles a day, while we were hoping to log at least 125. We’re not worried, though, because we have prepared ourselves well and have all the supplies we need (or at least THINK we will need). We are, however, reaching the last of a few items: bananas, apples, cucumbers, Gouda cheese, and the Maple Buds we got from Dawn and Rob.

Notable log entries for this period:

v “No fish today.” We’re tired of writing this.

v “Bit of rain today.” Evidence that the dry season is over.

v “Soup for lunch.” Our only rocky day so far. All other lunches were much more substantial.

v “Perfect conditions.” The winds moderated and we were making a superb six knots per hour.

v “Going nowhere.” From too much wind to perfect conditions to no wind at all, all in three days.

v “Went for a swim!” It was so calm and so hot, we couldn’t resist. We swam separately, and dragged a long line, just in case.

v “SOG: 2.4 knots.” SOG means speed over ground. We’d rather see 6.5 or more. Might be forty days to the Marquesas.

v “Whale!” We think it was a fin whale, about forty feet long. It stayed port side for about five minutes.

v “Third day for salmon-noodle casserole.” It was a big can of salmon. Still no fresh fish at this time.

v “March 21: Spring. Or is it autumn here?” We are easily confused, but we think we may have missed summer.

WEEK THREE, March 21-28: We are still moving very slowly. One day we were travelling slowly at three knots and yet the log entry says, “Wind dying”. Yikes. At that point, we started one engine, not only for speed but for energy production. Our wind generator isn’t producing, and there is a cloud cover that is stopping our solar panels from doing a good job. Our engine will give our house batteries a charge. We are still doing okay with fuel consumption, as long as we eventually get wind.

On March 23, the wind starts to pick up. On March 24, we finally catch a fish – a small but delicious Dorado. It’s the weekend, so I suntan a little, then make popcorn, and we have Movie Night on CanKata. In a few days, the winds and seas are fairly constant out of the south east, allowing us to average six to seven knots per hour. Yee-haw – finally some good sailing!

Notable log entries for this period:

v “March 26: Directly below Moose Jaw at 105° West.” I email my little sister, Jackie, who lives there, and somehow feel closer.

v “Sword fish!” This lively six-footer bit on my line, bit right through it and swam away with my lure.

WEEK FOUR, March 28 – April 4: We continue to have good winds, and the seas are pushing us gently towards our destination. On the odd occasion, a large wave gives us a good slap, but mostly the ride is pleasant. Sometimes we go a little further south or north than we want to, in order to make the most of the wind, but for the most part we are going west.

Now that we are in our fourth week, we start to make comparisons with other long passages we have had. This one wins, hands down. So far, overall, a great sail! Just a couple of minor technical glitches that Darrel was quick to fix: an o-ring in the head, a loose connection in the auto pilot, a stubborn furler, a couple of temperamental light switches, and a squeaky refrigeration pump.

Notable log entries for this period:

v “March 29: Directly below Airdrie, Alberta at 114° West”. This is where our son and his family live. We faced north and sang the ABCs to our grandkids (our song). We changed the last verse to, “Happy, happy we will be when TOGETHER we sing the ABCs”.

v “Ship passed 1 mile across our bow” – during Darrel’s watch. Only one we saw during a four-week period.

v “April 3 – Changed clocks to Pacific Standard Time” – a nice indicator of distance travelled.

WEEK FIVE, April 4 – April 11: We are a little sad that we actually need a Week Five for this crossing, but we are having a great passage. Weather information (from the files that Darrel downloads through the SSB and from a “weather guru” that we chat to on the SSB) indicates that we have calm weather ahead. A cyclone off of Pitcairn Island is going to suck all our wind from us. The good news is that no “bad” weather is heading our way.

Notable log entries for this period:

v “April 5: Just 686 miles to go”. It was more exciting when we dropped from four digits to three, when we hit 999, but we forgot to mark it in the log book.

v “Storm sail up”. No, we didn’t have a storm, but we needed more cloth up to make the most of the light winds. We gained .2 knots. Oh well.

v “April 6 – Listed to the rock opera Jesus Christ Superstar” - a Good Friday tradition for us.

v “April 6 - SOG 2.0 knots”. The weather forecast was, unfortunately, accurate. Darrel checks our fuel consumption and then gives the good news that we can motor for a while, bringing our SOG to 5.5 knots. Fifteen hours later we are sailing again and back to just 2.5 knots SOG. The speed felt good while it lasted.