New Blog Feature

I've added a new link to the blog's navigation bar called Position Reports. When you click there you will be taken to a new blog that I started. The new blog's purpose is solely to show our super-cool-awesome-incredibly-hip-and-fabulous map of automatic position reports (they're not fully automatic, but you may go ahead and assume that I'm awesome enough to automate the whole process).

The truth is we now have a subscription to SailMail, a service that enables us to send email through our SSB radio. My parents are the sponsors of this subscription (by the way, if you're feeling inclined to sponsor any aspect of our cruising, feel free to inquire within). It takes a couple of clicks for me to generate an email with our position data and send it directly for publishing on the Position Reports blog. Furthermore, I'm able to post on this blog as well. So no more scrambling for an internet connection to let everyone know Taia has safely arrived at her desination. I promise to publish a "we're safely anchored" message after every passage. Even during passage, I'll make every effort to publish Taia's position at least once every 24 hours.

Credit where credit is due: I stole the idea of this semi-automated map from Hold Fast. I totally raped some JavaScript off their blog and modified it to suit my fancy.

Happy 2015!

Our first day heading south

The time has come for us to start moving again. As usual, it has taken us longer than we thought to get ready.

Ever since we got back from Argentina we've been working on the boat. There were a few changes that we had planned on making to the boat and some others that we had no option because things stopped working. Also, as we prepare to leave the USA, we usually get in a sad money-spending mindset. Not because we want to spend our precious money but because we want to be prepared for everything. And so, on top of filling up our boat with water, fuel and lots of food, we also buy lots of spares: things that we know we'll have to change along the way (like oil and oil filters) and things that we think we might need if something breaks and we're in the middle of nowhere.

Paul and Ernie, heads down in the engine room, working.

It wasn't all just work... Matias celebrated his 6th birthday!

Farewell dinner with friends.

Monday was the chosen day for us to leave. We were anxious yet sad. For all intents and purposes, Jacksonville has become our home in the United States. It's not the city itself, but the great people we met there. It was great to spend all this time with you guys and we will miss you terribly.

Our first day on the ICW was uneventful. We lucked out with all the bridges coming out of Jacksonville and didn't have to wait for them to open for us. Yay! We even made it to The Three Sisters Anchorage we had planned on anchoring just barely after sunset.

Just before getting to the anchorage, I said to Ernesto, “Well, at least, anchoring is going to be easy, it's all mud here so the anchor will set on the first try. We won't have to worry about finding those sandy patches like in the Bahamas.” I like it easy!

Well, for those of you that believe that anything that can go wrong will go wrong, we're proof of that. There was a lot of current in that spot and, surprisingly for the ICW, lots of water. So we had to let out a lot of chain and try twice until the anchor was set properly. Not too bad, right?

The surprise came the next morning when we tried to lift the anchor up and it wouldn't come off. We tried a lot of times but it was well stuck in there and the windlass just gave up. How I wished I was back in the Bahamas and could see the anchor from Taia! All we could see here was brown water, but we suspected the chain was stuck on something. In the end we decided to call our friend Paul, who dives for a living, so he could come and have a look at what was going on down there. (He didn't actually have a look, since the water is so muddy, he had a "feel"). It turns out the anchor chain was hockled with a big metal piece and lots of other people's rope (from other anchors maybe?).

Paul and the Captain getting ready to work on getting the anchor untangled.

Paul suited up and ready to go get our chain unhockled

It was pretty bad luck for us to anchor just there but we got lucky because we were still pretty close to Jacksonville and already knew someone that could help us. As usual, there's always a bright side!

For those of you who know Paul and call him Diver Paul or Auto Paul, we've come up with a new nickname for him: Super Paul! He saved our bacon today and we can't thank him enough.

A random act of kindness

According to Wikipedia, today is World Kindness Day. I think it's such a beautiful concept that I decided to talk about this in school. We talked about being kind and what that means. We also watched this video, that I find very sweet, about random acts of kindness:

I also asked the kids to think of two situations where they were kind to somebody else and somebody else was kind to them. When talking about kindness, it is impossible for us not to think about 5 individuals who have impacted our lives immensely and continue to show their kindness to no end:

- Fred: Thank you so much for being our driver around Jacksonville. For patiently waiting for the kids to choose their Halloween costumes and even saving Halloween night by taking us to a better neighborhood for the kids to trick or treat. Thank you for the whole bag of candies for Halloween.

- Paul and Shari: Thanks for helping out with the boat projects and working alongside us. Thanks for spoiling the kids endlessly. Thanks for driving us for Matias's doctor appointment and for bringing mommy juice when Matias fell off the bike.

- Myron and Dena: Thanks for answering all the questions we have about cruising and helping us with the technical stuff. Thanks for the yogurt and the applesauce for Matias. Thanks for babysitting the kids. Thanks for being our mentors and just for being there.

You guys have made our lives so much more pleasurable and happy. When we think of kindness, we think of you. A big thanks to you!

Family, friends and a slap in the face

Five weeks ago we came back to Jacksonville, where Taia was sitting on the hard, after spending 2 months and a half in Argentina.

It was a great vacation. Contrary to what most people think, cruising is not always easy. There's always work to do, constant planning and decision making, non-stop weather watching and, in our case, school work. In Argentina, all we had to worry about was what and where we were going to eat. That was it.

It was the longest time we spent in Argentina since moving to Canada back in 2000. This gave us an opportunity to spend a lot of time with friends and family. The kids saw a parade of familiar and sometimes not-so-familiar faces. They even went to school in Bell Ville, Córdoba, where they made a bunch of really good friends. I kept joking that I was going to have to maintain a schedule for all of Camila's social activities. It was almost like having a glance at the future and seeing Camila's teen years. Oh, my...

And then it was time to come back. After spending so much time on land, the cruising life and all that it entails almost seemed something from the past.

The moment we stepped into the yard where Taia was, we met our friend Paul. Soon after, Fred and Shari arrived. Of course, they were there to help out as they always do. And so after two days of working in the yard, Taia was finally on the water again (insert clapping here). Very exciting stuff for us.

Ernesto cleaning the prop

Fred and Paul helping out, as always.

Taia ready to be launched.

Finally in the water again!

As soon as we were ready to leave to take Taia to our final destination, the Ortega Landing Marina, we noticed our chart plotter wasn't turning on. Funny, this was working just fine before we left. In the spirit of moving things along, we made do with Fred's cell phone as a plotter and off we went, with Paul sailing his boat close behind us. As soon as we were clear of all the boats around us. Ernesto decided to check the newly installed stuffing box. Not surprisingly, it was leaking water, a big No-No when you're on a boat. So we quickly put up the sails and turned off the engine. Ernesto adjusted it and on the engine came again. After doing this at least 3 or 4 times, we got it almost right. Of course, in the middle of all this, we managed to run aground in shallow water for a minute or so.

Afterwards, we were on our merry way when we noticed our mighty auto pilot wasn't veering to port. At all. Another instrument that was working just fine before we left and that we need to investigate.

In the marina, and after a lot of research on Ernesto's part, we realized we needed to buy a new chart plotter as our 5-year old one was no longer supported. What should have been an easy, 1-hour project, ended up taking a few days to finish. The cables for the new chart plotter were different than our old ones (even though they were both the same brand) so Ernesto had to re-wire it. After that, we realized our new chart plotter wasn't receiving any AIS information (something that we use to see other boats that are close to us). After trying pretty much everything he could think of, Ernesto realized it was the NMEA output that was no longer working and ended up re-wiring the unit so that the serial port connects to the plotter rather than the NMEA port. As our dear friend Paul says, "it's the Pi factor:" However long you think a boat project is going to take, multiply that by Pi.

At this time, we're thinking that the boat was hit by lightning during the time we spent in Argentina. We learned this lesson the hard way and next time we'll unplug all electronics before leaving the boat on the hard. Rookie mistake, I know, We still have to verify whether the auto pilot has been a victim to the lightning as well. Hopefully not.

Up the mast, to fix the steaming light.

Camila wanted to try the chair.

And Matias wanted a turn too.

So that's how, after spending a lot of relaxed time in Argentina, Taia received us with a slap in the face and showed us the not-so-loving aspects of the cruising life.

To top it all off, Matias fell off the bike this past weekend and ended up with 6 stitches on his chin and a broken jaw. It appears that, because he's so young, the bone can mend itself without surgery. But he's going to need to see a specialist for at least 6 weeks to make sure everything is OK. As the doctor said, "this is what happens when you encourage your kids to have an active life. But then you have to deal with the consequences when you have bad luck."

With these events, November 22 is no longer our departure date. We will stay in Florida until December and even that is still up in the air.

The only sure thing is that, as soon as we can, we'll start moving again.

The Boat Bum Socialites We Have Become

The month of July was a fun sequence of social events intermingled with homeschooling and boat projects. We spent it at Ortega Landing Marina, where we were able to meet with old friends (people whom we met in December/2013, and who have made us feel right at home since the first time we met them) and new friends. There were plenty of activities for kids and grownups, all of them fun and picture worthy.

Jacksonville has a great zoo that is accessible from the water. Now that we have a decent outboard, we were able to take our dinghy for a morning stroll among the zoo's denizens. Paul, Shari, and Camila rode on Gretel (Paul's power boat); Natalia, Matias, and me rode on our nameless dinghy; and Fred drove. Fred's driving turned out to be quite popular for the group, since Paul and I were left alone to take both boats back to the Ortega river while everyone else rode back with Fred.

Jacksonville Zoo

Mrs. Beautiful (Natalia's homeschool teacher alter ego) orchestrated a graduation event for the little people aboard Taia. Camila successfully finished grade 2 while Matias is a proud Senior Kindergarten graduate. We're expecting them to get jobs and make money using the skills they acquired during the school year. Maybe we'll have to wait a few more years for that...

The two graduates with Mrs. Beautiful and Mr. Muscleman

Within hours of docking in Ortega Landing Marina, we started making friends. In our previous life, we weren't the most outgoing people, but after a year of cruising all 4 of us have become much more sociable. Also, the boating community in every place we've visited is always welcoming and open to meeting new members. We have made some great friendships along the way.

It was an honor for us to host 2 birthday parties: Fred's and Shari's. Both events were chock full of laughing and fun. The main theme of both parties: boats, of course! (Sorry Shari!).

Camila and Matias had a true summer vacation experience. They spent hours at the pool playing with their new friends. But it wasn't all fun and games, there was also some schoolwork, and some of that was done aboard Lapis Lazuli with some of the other homeschooled kids.

Arts and crafts morning aboard Lapis Lazuli for the marina's boatkids

Instant BFF's

Time, that despicable tyrant, doesn't stand still. Our time in Jacksonville has yet again come to an end. Two days ago we motored to Green Cove Springs, where Taia is currently sitting pretty on the hard. Paul and Fred came with us on the 20-mile trip, which made it super enjoyable. The wind was fickle or right on the nose, so we had to motor all the way.

Paul (left) and Fred (centre) steered all the way to Green Cove Springs

Now we're in Weston, north west of Miami, visiting friends for a couple of days. Not being aboard, not seeing all the projects that require attention, makes us feel like we're on vacation. Next week we'll continue to enjoy our vacation away from Taia while we visit friends and family in Argentina. We'll miss Taia, but will come back soon enough to get on the water again and continue cruising south to the Caribbean.

Hasta la vista, baby!

Introspective Retrospective

Here we are, a full year since we moved aboard. And what better way to celebrate it than to bore all 3 of our blog readers with some stats, some thoughts, and some remarks? Buckle up, readers, this is going to be riveting!

In the words of my 30-year-old self, I can say, without fear of overstating, much less of being wrong, that this past year has been pretty fucking awesome. Honestly, that phrase sums it up. And although at 41 I should be able to come up with something more sophisticated, maybe even literary, when it comes to total and absolute bliss and happiness I'm hard pressed to find better words. Think about it: I'm living a dream that was born in 1988 after reading Robin Lee Graham's Dove; my wonderfully loving and caring and understanding wife has not only embraced but also appropriated the dream; and my kids continue to frequently state that "this is the best day ever." We're all thriving, we're all learning, we're all happy.

The uneasy and somewhat nervous smile in October/2013, replaced by a more relaxed attitude and posture in the cockpit while sailing in July/2014

We have sailed over 2,600 nautical miles in the last 12 months (for the nautically challenged, that's over 4,800 km; and for the metrically challenged, that's over 3,009 statute miles; and this is where I stop translating units). It's a modest distance, considering the current state of transportation technology. But we've seen so much and learned so much while travelling that distance! From the Chesapeake to Florida, on to the Abacos, the Exumas, the Jumentos and the Raggeds, and back to Florida. We've covered that distance at such slow speed that we've had ample opportunity to get to know the places we've seen. Our average speed for the 12-month period is approximately 0.3 knots (0.55 km/h or 0.34 mph).

Our anchoring platform has seen its good share of use and abuse. The anchor has plowed the bottom in 88 different locales. A few more if we count the few quick stops we made along the way, places where we didn't spend a night (the beautiful beach in Pelican Harbour comes to mind). By the way, don't forget to check out our map of anchorages if you want to see all the different places where we've anchored and slept.

Beach in Pelican Harbour, looking east from Sandy Cay

When we look back to our first few weeks after leaving Spring Cove Marina in Maryland, we are amazed at how much we've learned. Every mile we sailed, we learned something new about the boat, about the waters we were traversing, about ourselves. And when we went ashore we learned something new about the societies that inhabit the places we visited. It's the multiple whammy of learning while travelling!

Obviously, not everything has been picture perfect. The boat requires constant attention. Our watermaker stopped working in the Abacos and we had no idea what could be wrong with it. Out came the manual, out went a couple of emails, and within a couple of days we had the issue more or less figured out. It wasn't a big deal, but at the time it felt like a major annoyance. We have been mostly diligent with boat maintenance and fortunately our onboard systems have performed flawlessly. The few things that broke weren't crucial and we were able to fix them promptly.

Then there's the lack of space. There are 4 of us living aboard Taia; spaces get tight. Sometimes all 4 of us need to be in the galley, either getting something or on our way to the cockpit. If people could see us when that happens they would laugh hard at this family of lemmings, bumping into each other and completely tangled up.

It's been a good year. For me, happiness is a fleeting concept: once you find it, it evaporates easily. It needs to be nurtured constantly. Now is the time to be happy. I am ferocious and voracious in the pursuit of happiness.

Looking back, it's been a wonderful first year

Of Squalls and Lessons in Seamanship

It had been a couple of weeks since we'd started looking for the right weather window to sail from the Abacos to northern Florida. We would passage through over 300 miles of ocean and estimated it would take us somewhere around 60 hours to do it. With the rainy season well upon us, we were seeing squalls every day, so we became convinced that we would be hit by one or more while at sea; no matter how well we chose our weather window.

We sailed back and forth in the northern end of the Sea of Abaco, from Green Turtle Cay to Allens-Pensacola, stopping in Spanish Cay, Coopers Town, and several other cays along the way. It was fun and interesting, but our focus was on the weather and on being ready. Natalia prepared meals that would be easy to eat underway while I prepared everything on deck.

Finally the right window presented itself and we decided to stage our departure from Fox Town, Abaco, in the northwest corner of Little Abaco Island. We had about 60 miles of easy sailing ahead of us in the Little Bahama Bank. After we left the bank, we agreed that we would maintain 5 knots of speed, even if it meant starting the engine, for the remaining 250 miles.

The weather pattern we had been observing was quite easy: no wind in the morning, variable wind in the afternoon, with squalls sweeping by between the afternoon and the evening. A nice 15- to 20-knot wind was expected to fill in from the south to southwest that evening. And it was expected to hold for the next couple of days. Perfect sailing wind for us!

The Bahamian flag is in tatters after flying on our starboard spreader for 5 months

An early morning departure gave us some relaxed, though slow, sailing in the bank. We had planned to get to the Gulf Stream by 2100 but didn't exit the bank until 2300. By 0100 the next day we were different sailors than the ones that had lazily weighed anchor in Fox Town the previous morning.

Mr. Squall and his best buddy, Mr. Lightning, were posed to give us an interesting passage. They loomed angry to our west. During the day we could see Mr. Squall's obvious approach. And yet the first time he came to pay us a visit, we weren't entirely ready. Thus came the first casualty of the passage: one of the side windows of the cockpit enclosure was ripped open while I furled the jib in 30 knots of wind. Normally one of us pays out and controls the sheet while the other furls the sail; that way the sheet doesn't flail violently. But Natalia was busy getting a meal ready, so I decided to let out the sheet entirely and furl the sail on my own. The sheet was angry! It flailed and snapped and ripped while I furled. It hit the window and ripped it open.

The young crew got a surprise gift while underway

Except for that first squall, the first afternoon and evening went by quietly and slowly. But then Mr. Sun went to bed and Mr. Squall could sneak up on us under the veil of darkness. Wait a minute! We have radar! We can still see Mr. Squall coming! Unfortunately, our skipper decided to keep the radar off during his first night watch of the passage.

Of course, Mr. Squall approached fast and ready, taking advantage of our skipper's naiveté (he actually thought he'd be able to see Mr. Squall coming in the dark!). And this is how we learned that the good ship Taia will gladly take 35 knots of wind with full jib and a single reef in the main. To the skipper's credit, he took the helm and kept the boat under control while Mr. Squall buffeted us. There was no crazy heeling, no sudden lurching, just the natural pitching of a 46-foot sailboat doing 6 knots in 6-foot seas (that's a lot of sixes!). Unfortunately, the jib, which the skipper allowed to flail a little, lost some of its stitching on the leech. Nothing major. Second and last casualty of the passage.

The night watches went by and the second day at sea arrived. The 15- to 20-knot winds that had been forecast were actually 20 to 25. The conditions were slightly rougher than we'd expected, but we were moving fast! Thanks to the higher-than-expected winds and the Gulf Stream we were doing 8 or 9 knots.

On the second night I found my groove. It was blissful. The 3-hour watches felt shorter than the night before, and when I came off I fell asleep instantly. And it was good sleep! The first night I'd half slept and half thought about the boat, our progress, the conditions. The second night I slept and had dreams and rested.

I've read many times that experienced sailors prefer longer passages because it takes a couple of days to acclimatize to the conditions and adjust to the routine. I agree wholeheartedly! (Although a 54-hour passage hardly counts as a "longer passage").

Because the ride was bumpy, Natalia's hard work of preparing meals for the passage was somewhat wasted. Once we left the bank and entered the Stream, where conditions were rougher, we ate a lot of crackers and jam, sitting on the cockpit sole. But that's ok, we got a chance to enjoy those awesome empanadas and everything else she made, when we got to Florida.

Great crew!

The crew was in their best behaviour. After the first night, which is the roughest time we've had at sea, Camila woke up and asked if we'd had "good sailing" the night before. Obviously she slept soundly and didn't realize that the boat had pitched and rolled quite a bit.

It was a good passage and I'm hungry for more.

Land ho!

We arrived in Fernandina Beach on the afternoon of the third day. The obligatory squall of the evening hit us right after we set the anchor in the Bells river. The next day we checked into the United States and motored a few miles on the ICW to get to Fort George Island. While visiting Kingsley Plantation on the island, our friend Paul showed up on his powerboat. He'd motored all the way from Jacksonville! It was a great welcome to the US.

First day back in the US. Florida heat!

After visiting the plantation, we weighed anchor and motored to Jacksonville. Paul, also known to other cruisers as Auto Paul, took the helm and steered all the way while Natalia and I sat around and chatted (except for the part where the skipper was at the helm and ran aground, Auto Paul steered all the way). What a great welcome and a great way to cruise. Thanks, Paul!

Hot and Rainy days in the Abacos

• Natalia: It's raining...
• Ernesto: Yes, but it's not going to last, it's only once cloud.

I keep going through this sophisticated dialogue as the water keeps pouring more than 3 hours later. But I don't say anything, because you never question the captain. Ever. Except maybe to make fun of him. Which I did.

Up until now, the weather has been perfect. Hot and sunny during the day, cool and breezy during the night. Sleeping has never been an issue. We simply opened the 12 portholes, 7 hatches and 2 companionways, and let the cool breeze in. The only times they stay closed is for the occasional squall.

But then the rainy season started. Our return to the Abacos has been plagued by daily squalls. Sometimes more than once a day. Many times they bring strong winds and lots of water. When we see a squall coming, a ritual starts aboard Taia to close all of the 21 portholes, hatches and companionways. It gets stuffy quickly aboard a boat when the outside temperature is hot and so as soon as the water stops pouring, we open the 21 of them again. Sometimes (very often lately) mother nature likes to play with us and starts raining as soon as we open all the “windows” and so the ritual starts again. And again. And yet again.

But we don't complain. For rain brings fresh water and fresh water is welcome aboard Taia. Whenever it pours, Ernesto gets out to scrub the deck with soap and then lets it rinse. The goal is not only to remove the sea salt from the deck but also to open our water tanks to collect rain water. We have filled both our water tanks more than once. We love free fresh water!

The beauty of the squalls is that they don't last long. They go as fast as they come. Afterwards, the sun shines again and life keeps going as if nothing happened.

A squall coming to the Sea of Abaco, from the West.

A squall going to the Atlantic Ocean (the dark blue water)

After Man-O-War, we went to Marsh Harbour to do some provisioning. It's a real pleasure to go to a store that has more than a few dozen items in total. After that, the goal was to go to Great Guana Cay and Scottland Cay but the anchorages didn't provide good protection for the winds. Reluctantly we skipped them and went straight to Treasure Cay, which is beautiful. The basin is very protected and you have to pay to use a mooring ball or even anchor. But you get free wifi and you can use the marina's pool, which the kids loved. There's also showers! (And we took full advantage of them; 10-minute showers is a luxury we haven't had in a very long time).

We stayed three nights. We went to the beach, but mainly stayed in the pool, which was a nice change. The kids made some new friends too. Although beautiful, Treasure Cay resembles more an all-inclusive resort than a Bahamian Cay.

In Treasure Cay where we experienced our first restless night because of the heat. It was very hot with no wind at all. Ernesto and the kids slept in the cockpit for a few hours. Lucky for me, I don't suffer the heat very much (and I secretly welcome it!).

Treasure Cay

Treasure Cay Beach

After Treasure Cay, we went to No Name Cay, where we saw more pigs. Although, as the kids say, they are not as nice as the ones in Big Majors. But there were tiny pigs that Camila and Matias kept trying to touch unsuccessfully.

Having a walk in No Name Cay, quickly, before the next squall comes in.

Collecting shells.

Our next destination was going to be Green Turtle Cay. But the weather forecast appeared to indicate that a crossing to the USA was going to be favorable in 3 days and so, much to my despair, we kept going and set anchor in Powell Cay. There I dedicated a whole day to cooking for the passage. The crossing to Jacksonville is going to take us more than 48 hours and I wanted to have 5 meals prepared in case I get seasick (which I do most of the time).

The next stop was Allens-Pensacola Cay. After a few hours at the beach and snorkeling and meeting yet another nice family from the USA, we all went to sleep. If we thought our night in Treasure Cay was bad, we were wrong. Not only was it hot and dead calm there, but it was full of mosquitoes and no-see-ums. Hundreds of them! We put all the mosquito netting that we have to no avail. The regular mosquito repellent didn't do anything. The darn things kept coming and coming. By 6 o'clock the whole crew of Taia was up and full of red dots on our bodies. And itching everywhere.

After hearing the weather forecast and learning that we have to wait a few more days to cross to the USA, we quickly turned the engine on and got the hell out of there. It took 4 hours of sailing and lots of Raid to get rid of them.

We are now in Spanish Cay. We'll keep watching the weather but it looks like we might be able to head back to the USA on June 18 or 19. The same day my niece or nephew is going to be born. I guess I won't find out until a few days later, when we have internet access again :(

Taia's Abaco Homecoming (despite the skipper's negligence)

We left George Town showing off our windlass' ability to weigh anchor without running the engine. It wasn't just the windlass we were showing off, there was also a healthy amount of nautical smugness. Normally, we would use the engine to weigh anchor, get under way, and only then hoist our sails. But we wanted to show off in front of our friends in George Town. And we did. And then we paid for it.

Mr. Mischief looking for trouble in Elizabeth Harbour

The sail north from George Town was nothing less than spectacular. The ENE wind at around 10 knots was perfect, both in angle and velocity, to put us on a smooth track under main and spinnaker. After a few hours of some rolling in Exuma Sound, we entered the bank through Galliot Cut. Again we showed off by sailing through the cut without starting the engine.

Flying our chute in the Great Bahama Bank

After we entered through the cut the sailing got even better. With such light wind and from that direction the Great Bahama Bank was flat. But we kept moving at 6 to 7 knots! Out came the hammock, which I rigged to the spinnaker tack and the mast. The boat was flying, without roll, without pitch, and a few degrees of heel.

That day we had planned to sail to Black Point, but the sailing was so good we decided to continue on to Big Majors Spot. Sixty one and a half nautical miles in almost 12 hours. A great day for sailing if there ever was one.

Our plan was to continue to move while the weather was benign. The next day, after a quick provision run in Staniel Cay, we sailed to Shroud Cay, the northern most cay in the Exuma Land and Sea Park. Again we showed off by weighing anchor under main and without starting the diesel machine from hell. This time, while the windlass whirred away, it was noticeably slower, as if it wasn't getting enough juice. And a device started beeping down below. “An electrical glitch,” I thought lazily. See, real sailors heed this kind of warning. I was too busy showing the whole anchorage how we could weigh anchor and sail away without burning diesel. So I dismissed the beeping and the sluggish behaviour the windlass was showing.

The Pool, Shroud Cay

Shroud Cay is spectacular. There is a creek that runs through the cay, from Exuma Sound to the Bank. The creek has a bed of white sand and is surrounded by mangroves. Also, the current on the creek switches with the tide. As you exit the creek into Exuma Sound, there's a beautiful beach. While at that beach we met Unknown Island, a Canadian family that is sailing back to Canada from Grenada after a season in the Caribbean. Just to remind us of how incredibly giving and caring people in general are, Unknown Island gave us their chart books for the Caribbean, including CD's with digital charts. Thanks again, guys!

Young marine biologist studying samples in Shroud Cay

From Shroud Cay we did a short hop to Ship Channel Cay, the last Exuma anchorage we would see this year. After a night anchored in Ship Channel, we rose early to sail to Royal Island and stage our crossing to the Abacos. Yet again, the windlass was slower than usual and something started beeping in the cabin as the anchor was coming up. No longer able to procrastinate, I decided to investigate further. The batteries seemed to be unusually drained. On came the diesel machine from hell, which had trouble starting due to the low voltage on the batteries. Thus we made sure that the batteries got a good charge from the alternator. The sail to Royal was still excellent, although we kept the engine running for 2 hours during the 8-hour sail.

Creek going through Shroud Cay

It wasn't until we arrived back in the Abacos that I opened the battery locker and checked their fluid level. All the plates had the top centimetre exposed. Shame on me! Healthy batteries require their plates to be immersed in an electrolyte (distilled water, which becomes some kind of acid after the chemistry of the battery has produced electricity... or something like that). The one redeeming factor is that these batteries are a few years old, and we knew we'd have to replace them sooner rather than later. By not keeping their fluid level topped up, I've accelerated their deterioration. Live and learn. Negligence does not go unnoticed on a cruising boat. Every system should be maintained periodically, and just wishing them well is conspicuously not enough.

What about all that cocky show-off maneuverings we did when weighing anchor under sail? Well, I've been slapped down by the bad karma I've sowed. No more of that until we get new batteries. Now the diesel machine from hell is running every time we use the windlass, which requires a healthy source of current and voltage.

As you may have surmised, we're back in the Abacos. Coming back here has been a sort of homecoming. Back in February, this is where we started the second chapter of our cruising (the first being the ICW and everything we did in the US last year, which seems like a lifetime away). Here in Abaco we made some great friendships in Man-O-War and Hope Town. So we're back, visiting friends, enjoying their company, and already planning our next visit to the Sea of Abaco, which by now feels like home.

The kids have been going to school in Man-O-War and the grown-ups have had a chance to relax and decompress. Man-O-War Primary School has become an important part of our kids' lives. Their experience here has been wonderful and enriching.

Good times in George Town

We got back to George Town on May 3, 2014. The idea was to buy a new outboard for the dinghy and, after breaking in the engine, start going north again to get to the Abacos. From there, we'll cross to the USA again, in preparation for hurricane season.

We did buy the outboard and are quite happy with it. Our older one was fine, but it didn't have the enough power to get us on a plane. There are normally 4 of us, plus snorkel gear, fishing gear and anything else we want to carry; it was too much for the old outboard. This resulted in us taking our sweet time to get anywhere. So we bought a more powerful outboard. Wow, what a difference! The kids are so excited that every time we get to the dinghy they start yelling “go faster, daddy, faster!” The new outboard needs to be serviced after the first 10 hours of use, and so we had to stay put in George Town for a few days. The few days easily turned into almost 3 weeks.

In the meantime, we met two kid boats, Viatori and Horizon. Viatori is a Canadian boat from Edmonton (small world!) with 3 boys. Horizon is an Argentinian boat (did I mention a small world?) with a girl and a boy. Naturally, we got together with them immediately and started spending a lot of time with them.

We fell into an easy routine. School in the morning for me and the kids, while Ernesto did maintenance stuff on the boat, dinghy to town to get groceries or do laundry. Then came lunch at varied times. And then, inevitably, we all ended up in Sand Dollar Beach, where the kids ran, played in the sand, snorkeled and had lots of fun. The adults chatted, and drank mate. And also had a great time. Sometimes, we had dinner together when we were able to accommodate the Canadian and Argentinian dinner times :)

Body boarding with Viatori

This turtle and its mom appeared almost daily next to Taia. Super cute!

Horizon and Taia crew, enjoying the beach.

Viatori, Horizon and Taia's crew

The girls had a sleepover aboard Horizon!

Walk to the Exuma Sound side of Sand Dollar beach

Ernesto scrubbing the bottom of Taia. More than 2 hours of scraping and Taia is finally algae-free.

Ernesto and Jonathan, from Horizon, went spear fishing a few times. So eating fish became a habit too. The kids are becoming experts in identifying fish and get super excited about the catch of the day. Fortunately for us, they like to eat it too!

A few times while snorkeling, they ended up swimming with a female dolphin that was very curious and friendly. She would just come around and start swimming close to them. An out of this world experience!

One afternoon, when we were coming to the boat from Volleyball beach after a lunch at the Chat 'N Chill restaurant, we saw a dolphin swimming in circles around an anchored boat, very close to shore. Immediately, Ernesto jumped to the water. And soon after that, the four of us were in the water with the dinghy securely tied up to the empty boat. We spent more than half an hour being in the water with the dolphin. What an experience! I'm sure this is going to be one of those moments forever ingrained in our memories.

Another ritual is looking at the sharks, trying to decipher what type they are, when Ernesto cleans the fish and throws the remains in the water and after a few minutes, silently, a shark or two or three, appear after they smell the blood and start circling Taia. More than once I was tempted to jump into the water to look at them, but of course, being the chicken that I am, I always stay on board Taia and admire them from above.

Shark! I think it's a lemon shark.

We also had the pleasure of getting together with Distant Shores. Paul and Sheryl are a Canadian couple who have been sailing for many years. They make videos of their travels that they then sell and show on TV. We have watched all of their episodes, dreaming of the day we'd do the same thing. We met them first a few years ago, when we took a cruising seminar in Toronto. We had a great time with them and are really glad we ran into them.

Soon, very soon, we'll all go our different ways. It will be sad to say farewell to friends again. But there's always the hope that our paths will cross again. And the kids keep piling up friends!

Pudding Cut, Exuma, Bahamas

This is another of my piloting posts. It's meant for cruisers looking for information to transit an area that we find somewhat challenging.

On our way back to George Town from the Raggeds and Jumentos, we wanted to avoid beating eastward to Long Island through Comer Channel. Instead, we decided to head north-east from Water Cay, towards Rocky Point in the south western corner of Great Exuma Island (roughly around 23°35' N, 76°04' W).

From Rocky Point, we sailed north through Pudding Cut, to later exit to Exuma Sound through Square Rock Cut (which was an interesting experience in and of itself; of the hang-on-to-your-pants type of experience). Pudding Cut stretches north to south on the west side of Barraterre. Throughout the cut the charts report depths anywhere from 5 to 24 feet.

With our 6-foot draft, we transited the cut with extreme care and on a rising tide. According to the Explorer charts, the tide in the Rocky Point area is approximately 2 hours later than Nassau tides. We approached the cut area at 1045 on 3/May/2014, right around high tide in Nassau.

It is imperative to transit the cut with a good eye for reading the water. Visual Piloting Rules apply! It's not a straight shot north; we followed a snaking track based on what depths we were seeing and the color of the water. At times we even kept a bow watch.

The transit took 1 hour and 15 minutes, while the tide in Nassau was high at +2.2'. The skinniest water we saw was 7.3' in a shallow spot at the north end of the cut. Most of the cut is deeper than that, with 8 feet or more at the time we transited.

By the way, the distance between George Town and Water Cay in the Jumentos through Pudding Cut and Square Rock Cut is 75 miles. The route that goes on the east side of Great Exuma Island, through Thompson Bay and the Comer Channel, is 89 miles. In our case, coming back from the Jumentos on the more westerly route was hugely advantageous, since the wind was a healthy 15 knots from the south east the first day, and 10 to 15 knots from the south on the second day. The sail from Square Rock Cut to Conch Cay Cut wasn't the uncomfortable and slow beat we'd experienced the first time we sailed south east to George Town.

Comer Channel, Exuma, Bahamas

A common route to follow when going to the Jumentos Cays is due west from Thompson Bay in Long Island, through the Comer Channel, and then south west to Water Cay, in the Jumentos. With Taia's 6-foot draft, Comer Channel was a bit of a question mark for us. Chart data in the channel shows depths of barely 6 feet at MLLW.

The obligatory online research landed me on the Passage Reports section of the Bahamas Cruisers Guide web page. There I found a table with information that is extremely useful when planning a passage such as this one. The table shows specific waypoints along the route, along with the time S/V Onward was at those waypoints, the depth they saw, and the tide state at Nassau. I'm putting up a similar table here in the hopes that it will be useful to other cruisers.

Three of the waypoints I show on the table, Comer East, Comer Channel, and Comer West, are the waypoints shown on the Explorer Charts. The other two waypoints are roughly the half way points between the Explorer waypoints.

We transited the channel from east to west on 22/April/2014, arriving at Comer East at 1045. All depths and tide states are expressed in feet. The Minimum Depth column shows the minimum depth we saw transiting from one waypoint (in the previous row) to the next (in the current row).

	Time	Nassau Tide	Depth	Min Depth
Comer East 23°20.80' N 75°19.87' W	1045	+0.7	8.3
Halfway	1103	+0.9	7.5	7.4
Comer Channel 23°19.50' N 75°24.00' W	1127	+1.2	7.8	7.1
Halfway	1204	+1.5	8.4	7.8
Comer West 23°20.25' W 75°31.50' N	1242	+1.9	11.5	8.4

The Extraordinary Adventures of Shambala and Taia in the Jumentos Cays and the Ragged Islands

“What kind of fish is this?”

“It's a parrotfish.”

“Is it edible?”

“No.”

“Fuck.”

I utter that last line of dialogue under my breath, for I'm talking with a six-year-old. This is an endearing boat-kid who obviously has much to teach me about fish and fishing. He's probably sailed more miles than me, to boot. He's 6. I'm 41.

Normally I would ask Paul, the kid's dad, before spearing the fish. But Paul is many meters away, pole-spear in hand, surveying the reef and knowing which of the hundreds of fish we see are good eating. Parrotfish aren't good eating. That's why there's so many of them and they're so easy to spear. I just ended a life with impunity, without guilt, because I thought I'd be putting food on the table. Now I get to live with the guilt and, more importantly, the dead fish gets to do or feel nothing ever again.

We are snorkeling and spear-fishing in a reef just west of Water Cay, in the Jumentos Cays. The sail to Water from Thompson Bay in Long Island took Shambala and Taia eight hours. For the next few days we'll be exploring these uninhabited islands with Shambala. Two boats, two families, many uninhabited islands, beaches, clear water, and plenty of fish to catch and eat.

Young crews of Shambala and Taia

Paul has been teaching me to spear-fish, and this is my second time wielding a pole-spear in a reef. The first time was a few days ago, in Elizabeth Harbour, where we caught nothing (but we swam with a dolphin for a good half hour, which was a much better experience than killing fish whimsically). But now we're in the Jumentos, and because these cays are so isolated and out of the way, they're not heavily fished. There are all sorts of fish living in reefs that have all sorts of corals. And there are barely any other boats around!

After that sour experience with the parrotfish, I make sure to ask Paul what fish is good for eating. He points at a triggerfish and assures me those are good eating. I proceed to spear not one, but two of them. Not too shabby for a n00b! And on the way back to the boat I pick up a few conch.

The first fish I speared (that was edible)

That night we had a feast: triggerfish, hogfish, conch, and grouper. Staci from Shambala did most of the cooking. The sea is plentiful and can give these two families all the protein we need.

Buena Vista Cay

From Water Cay we sailed to Flamingo Cay. While spear-fishing in Flamingo I realized that around here we can easily become somebody else's dinner. As we swam around in the biggest finger coral reef I've ever seen, we saw a few barracuda and two bull sharks. Barracuda make me uneasy, but I'm slowly getting used to them being around. Apparently they only attack if they feel threatened. A small bull shark that swims by can also be safely ignored. But a big one, maybe bigger than a grown man, falls under the category of “let's-get-the-fuck-out-of-here.” We saw one such bull shark. Thus I came to the realization that spear-fishing can put food on the table, but I'm competing for food with local predators that are at the top of the food chain.

Taia, Shambala, and their crews in Buena Vista Cay

In Raccoon Cay Paul and I went spear-fishing again. After a couple of hours in the water, we came back with a school master and two glasseye snappers. I got a chance to improve my fish-cleaning skills using the school master as the subject of my butchery. Then Paul taught me how to gill and gut one of the glasseyes. We were doing this at the beach with water up to our ankles. While Paul expertly worked on the first glasseye, I decided to rinse off a knife and a cutting board. That wasn't a smart move on my part.

Suddenly, Paul yelped and jumped out of the water. Not knowing what was going on, I looked back and saw a shark not 2 meters away from where Paul was standing. I proceeded to unceremoniously get out of the water, as fast as my legs would take me. The shark had smelled the small amount of fish blood I'd just rinsed. And here I was thinking that I was very clever for dumping a fish carcass and some discarded pieces of fish in a bucket rather than in the water. What hungry creature would smell that tiny amount of blood I'd just rinsed off?

Sharks. Bull sharks. The kind of shark that might have gone for a human ankle thinking that was the source of the blood. Fortunately we both got out of the water before the first shark helped himself.

We ended up spending a good 20 minutes looking at the sharks. And we gave them both glasseye snappers, just to be able to see them thrash in a shallow 30 cm of water. The Shambala and Taia crews were enthralled by these spectacular creatures. The kids ran out of words to describe the awesomeness of the moment, so they came up with a single word that describes it perfectly, a word that is better than awesome: extraordinary. It was extraordinary to see the two sharks eat every chunk of fish we threw in the water.

Shambala and Taia under different sail combinations

As Shambala and Taia continue their trek south, through the Jumentos and the Ragged Islands, both crews share daily activities and end each day with a feast of ocean protein. The adults chat in the cockpit while the kids play in the cabin. All eight of us are having a great time (and a lot of freshly caught fish!).

We are now anchored in Hog Cay, a mere 3 miles from Duncan Town, the only settlement in this group of islands. According to our guide, the settlement's population is a whopping 100. Soon we'll start heading back north, towards George Town, while Shambala goes north west, towards Florida.

It's been an incredible few days; postcard material for those who love to cruise in areas that offer nothing but wilderness. The best part has been to share the experience with Shambala. Paul and Staci, as well as their two wonderful children, have made the exploration of this deserted paradise that much more enjoyable, that much more interesting. To them I say thanks!