Okay. We are now in Hope Town, Abacos, Bahamas. You might have seen photos of this place in magazines, travel brochures, or on the Internet. It has a candy-cane striped lighthouse sitting on a low hill above the harbor, as you can see from these photos :-) Cute little town, not a lot to offer, but definitely cleaner, neater, and less depressed-looking than Bimini or Great Harbour Cay.

When left Great Harbour Cay, in the Northern Berrys, we crossed over to Sandy Point, on the southwestern tip of Great Abaco Island. We spent one night at anchor there. We were going to buy fuel, but the water was too shallow at the one fuel dock, so we were unable to do so. We almost grounded trying to finesse our way to the dock. Consequently, we had less than a full tank when we started the open ocean part of the trip around the south end of Great Abaco. There were some fairly big rollers coming out of the Atlantic, but as the wind had been reasonably calm for a few days, that long fetch across the Atlantic had not turned into huge breaking waves, heavy chop, or anything else that would have been far too daunting to a couple of elderly novices at the art of cruising.

We had a fairly smooth sail up to Little Harbor, on the southeast side of Great Abaco. Entering the harbor required sailing (motoring) through a cut in the reef, past some rather large breakers. It was a little hairy, as the following seas were picking up the boat and running it forward. Steering through and keeping centered between the breakers, we made it into calmer waters. There is a small protected harbor there with some moorings and a very small space for anchoring. We chose a mooring.

There is nothing much there. Just a foundry were a local artist produces some bronze castings. I’m not sure whether any of them are his or if they are actually reproductions of works his artist father, who founded the community, created years ago. I do know they were priced higher than I expected, based on the quality of the works. $4200 for a lamp made from a bronze casting of a Ridley’s sea turtle seemed a bit much to me. The turtle was attractive, but nothing special. Pete - the son - also owns a pub where you can buy a Bud or Corona or Heineken or Kalik (the local Bahamian brew) for $5 a bottle. All the same price. I think they serve lunch as well, but we ate on or boat.

We spent two days there, resting after our long run from the Berrys. We then headed north. We passed Lynyard Cay, where there were some good anchorages, and continued north until we got to Tilloo Cay. We tried to anchor north of Tavern Key, as small key on the west side of Tilloo, in an area the charts recommended for anchoring, but the water was too shallow, and the holding poor, so we turned around and anchored for two days just a little bit south of Tavern Cay. Then we left for Hope Town,which is where we are now. On the way to Hope Town, we lost another alternator belt. Not wanting to risk shredding our last spare, I put it on the alternator, but shut down the port engine, planning to use it only for docking and maneuvering. We used it when we got to Hope Town,to motor slowly into the harbor and to dock at the fuel dock, but by the time we picked up our mooring in the harbor, it was starting to smell like it was getting ready to go too. I have since realigned the Balmar alternator for what I hope is the last time.

There is wifi here, so I am going to try to sign up with Skype and then call Balmar tomorrow (Monday, March 16) to see what they might say. I have heard they are very helpful, with good customer service, and I hope they can solve the problem. I already de-rated the alternator output to try to put less strain on the belt, but as that didn’t work, I am currently at a loss for what else to try, beyond removing this $1000 addition to my boat and replacing it with the old Hitachi alternator that came with the Yanmar engine. That will mean losing the ability to charge my house bank of batteries while motoring, but I would rather have a reliable engine than charging output that stops when the belt shreds anyway.

Now. Have I mentioned that boats have holding tanks? These are polyethylene (or some similar plastic) tanks that hold the effluent that travels from the heads (toilets). Sort of like a septic tank. From there, in most places in America, it is pumped out through a fitting on the deck of the boat into either a pump-out boat’s tanks, or dockside at a fuel dock or in a marina. In the Bahamas, there are no pump-out facilities. Perhaps at the more exclusive club marinas there might be, but I don’t thin so. My guide books for the Bahamas don’t mention any. Consequently, mst boats have what are called “macerator pumps”, which are like water pumps except that they have special cutting blades inside to shred and macerate any solids that might be present (sorry to get crude here.)

Have I mentioned that neither of my two macerator pumps work? If I disconnect them from their holding tanks and try to pump out a bucket of sea water, they both seem to work just fine. Hook them back up to their respective holding tanks, and - nada. The hoses appear to be open, not plugged, the valves switching between the macerator and the pump-out fittings work (I had to reverse one that had been improperly installed), but they still won’t pump out the holding tanks. So, armed with one of two spare macerator pumps the previous owner was nice enough to leave on the boat, I rigged a portable pump-out device of my own. Armored with black nitrile gloves, Shirley and I were able to empty both tanks out at sea with this device, pumping through a hose draped out of a porthole. Since we didn’t have the proper size hoses and had to improvise, this device leaked a bit. Are we having fun yet?

I hope you folks that bother to read are getting the picture. At this point, if Reggie could wave a magic wand and return the $192,000 we have spent to our bank account, he would. Armed with the knowledge he now possesses, he would buy a new Toyota crew-cab pickup, a nice fifth-wheel or straight-pull trailer, a four wheeler that would seat two, and head for the Southwestern United States, pocketing the $80,000+ difference to use for staying at RV parks and dining out regularly. That would have made my sister, Paulette, extremely happy, as she feared for or lives on this adventure. If she only knew it wasn’t dangerous, simply dirty, disgusting, frustrating and disappointing, she would have been more accepting of our choice ;-)

As the economy sucks right now, we probably couldn’t sell this boat even if we were ready to do so, but as it is we plan on sticking with it until we get a chance to try New England in the summer. If things get worse before then, or when winter starts to loom again, we will more than likely put this boat up for sale and take our losses. Unless a miracle happens in the meantime, everything starts working reliably, and we stumble onto some gorgeous locations that make all the pain worthwhile. If it weren’t for some of the terrific people we have met, it would have been a total loss so far.

Which brings us to the owners of JilliQ, another Lagoon 37 here in Hope Town, David and Gillian Hough. Very nice people who spent several hours showing us their boat, the neat modifications they have made to it, and giving us pointers on how to make some of the cruising tasks easier. Delightful people who we hope to see more of while we are here. We just might stay a month at Hope Town, with local trips to Marsh Harbor and Man-O-War Cay while we are in the area. I hope to get to one of the Hope Town wifi spots to upload this tomorrow, along with some more photos of places along the way.

Briefly, I want to mention one of my hot buttons:
courtesy and consideration from one human toward another. It seems sadly lacking so often in our current society. This was reinforced in the crossing of our paths with other boaters. On the ICW and elsewhere, powerboats most frequently ignore the presence of their slower sailboat brethren, passing them at high speeds with large wakes that make the sailboats pitch and roll, sometimes violently. Often, they do this even when they could easily pass to stern of a sailboat, preventing this disruption. This is well-known to folks who have been cruising for any length of time at all. Additionally, while most sailboats have a friendly wave for each other when coming into sight, it is common to be ignored by power boaters when you wave in an attempt to be polite and friendly. Not by all, certainly, but in my very limited experience on Florida’s ICW, it is well over 50%.

Surprisingly, this carried over in our contacts with other cruisers at Marathon. While most folks on sailboats (over 80% of those boats moored and anchored in the harbor) would wave back, there were quite a few who would disdain doing so. Hence my earlier comment about “snobs”. We had a close neighbor on a boat named “Living Well”, a brand-new 42’ or 46’ Hunter (IIRC) who would actually stare at us as we motored by in our dinghy, but would not respond to a wave or a pleasant greeting. I am somewhat embarrassed to admit that he received one final wave from me before we left Marathon, but I wasn’t using all of my fingers.

Back to our run from Bimini to Great Harbour Cay. We left last Friday morning, motoring into what was still somewhat heavy chop, although not as nasty as Thursday’s. It bounced us around, as well as slowing us to approximately 4 knots. When we got to the area of the Bahama Banks near Mackie Shoal, we anchored for the night in about 20 feet of water, dropping the hook at about 1800 hours. It took us almost thirty minutes before we were able to get the anchor to stop dragging,a new experience for us, as we had purchased a new anchor that had worked exceedingly well for us so far, a 35 lb. Manson Supreme, very similar to the Rocna. We had read numerous reports on both the Rocna and the Mason Supreme, with the Manson getting the slight edge. This Manson, on all chain rode, has always done well, but did drag for a while before we were able to reset it and get it to hold.

We were fairly exhausted, so we retired for the night almost immediately. About this time, the wind began piping up, going from the 10-15 knots we had been seeing most of the day to 15-20, with gusts occasionally higher. Both the boat and the dinghy we were pulling behind us at this time began pitching and slamming in this shallow water, also sailing around the anchor a bit. We endured this, unable to sleep, until about 0300, when I suggested to Shirley that we raise anchor and continue to motor on to Great Harbour. She agreed, so we raised the Manson and about 150’ of chain, and set out again. I fired up the radar, as visibility was good, but I wanted the assurance that we could see traffic that might not have lights visible (e.g., power outage, drug-running, or ?), and anything that might be sticking out of the water that didn’t show on our charts. We did observe several other vessels, including a long-line fishing vessel towing a couple of small powerboats behind it as it trolled.

As this was the first time Shirley and I had sailed/motored at night without either someone more experienced on board, or along with one or more other boats, we both felt much better when the sun came up and we could once again see clearly what was - or wasn’t - around us. The Banks are pretty well deserted both day and night, but remember that we had no prior experience of our own to give us reason to relax.

We got within about 10 nm of Great Harbour Cay when the port engine alarm went off. Have I mentioned losing several alternator belts since we had the Balmar high-output alternator installed by SALT Engineering in Marathon? (I’ll correct that omission in a moment.) I shut the engine down,and checked it out. The belt was shredded. It had been running continuously for about twenty hours since I last changed it, so I thought it was good to go, but that obviously was not the case. When we got about a mile out from Bullock’s Harbor, I slowed the boat until she just had steerage, and had Shirley take the helm while I went below and put a new belt on. (I was glad I had had the foresight to purchase four spares before leaving Marathon. Knowledgeable friends had suggested carrying a couple of spares, but I decided a couple for each engine would be better. If I had known that the Balmar was going to be a problem, I would have bought ten or twelve of the buggers.) Good thing. When we got to the marina, and had to use reverse to maneuver the boat in tight quarters, I ran over the dinghy painter (we normally have the dinghy up on davits) , immediately jamming the starboard prop and stopping that engine. With the wind and current, it was difficult docking on one engine, but not as difficult as it would have been if the port engine hadn’t had a belt on it and was unusable!

Great Harbour is a disappointment. The marina is run down, the bathrooms marginal and not very clean. One washer and dryer, but they do work. We walked a good ways toward town, but although we ran into three small stores and a police station, I’m not sure we actually got to “town”. There is a Batelco (Bahamas Telephone Company) office about a twenty minute walk (ten minute bike ride) from the marina that has free wifi access. The only thing that can really be said for it is that there is excellent protection from wind in this harbor. We sat out a squall with 40+ knot winds here, and only saw about 15-20 knots with 25 knot gusts in the marina during its passage.


OK. SALT Engineering of Marathon, FL. A sad story indicating another lapse of good judgment on my part. One day while in Marathon, having noticed that we were having to run our diesel generator for several hours every day to keep our refrigerator cool (not cold), I realized that a prior owner of this boat had removed the engine-powered compressor system that would have run our Sea Frost refrigerator in an efficient (fairly) fashion. This probably occurred when the engines were changed from Perkins 18 HP diesels to the larger Yanmar 27 HP diesels. Possibly due to a lack of space for the engine-powered compressor, or for some other reason, said prior owner had installed an optional 110 volt “Shore-Assist” system, which ran a small compressor off of shore power, or the generator if shore power was not available. Unfortunately, if you are not hooked up to shore power and running the reefer almost continuously, it will not keep the contents cold, only cool, definitely warmer than desired.

Walking in town, I noticed a business that dealt in alternative energy equipment - solar, wind, etc. They also sold refrigeration equipment. I stopped and asked if they might be able it install the engine-powered compression equipment that was usual for the Sea Frost system. They said that, for $98 an hour, a technician would come to our boat, survey the system, and make a recommendation. A very nice fellow named Dwight, a Canadian who said he had seventeen years experience living aboard sailboats, came the next day. He observed that it would be difficult to reinstall the engine-powered compressor, piping and wiring. He said the boat’s electrical system needed to be corrected (both engine batteries, he said, had been wired directly to their respective engine’s alternators, bypassing their battery switches), and that a larger bank of house batteries (six 105 amp hour AGMs), along with an inverter (Heart 2000) , would supply enough energy to keep the reefer cold without having to run the diesel generator every day. He also suggested a higher output (Balmar, remember? ;-) alternator, which would charge the battery bank while the boat was motoring (at least while the port engine was running.) Later, when we could afford to add some solar panels and a wind generator, we would be able to power the boat without spending money on diesel fuel for the generator, especially when we were at anchor, which is how we were hoping to operate most of the time.

Having long been a fan of solar/wind/hydro alternative energy, I was a sucker for this. So, when I was given a written quote of $6100 for parts ($4800) and labor ($1300), I cringed, and almost passed on it, but - with Shirley trusting my judgment - finally agreed to have the work done. Dwight said it could be done in about three or four days. Two and a half weeks later - not due to our slowing the process, except for one day when we had an appointment - it was finished. We were presented with a bill for $8100. Seems Dwight had not listed all the parts he needed, and the labor was more than double what was quoted. I went -twice - to their shop to explain that a quote was a quote, not an estimate. Dwight and the owner of the business spent over an hour explaining why I should pay for the extra labor and parts. As Dwight had indeed done two hours extra work that was not listed on the quote, I agreed to pay an extra $200. The owner argued that he could only cut the bill so far, and insisted that we had to pay an extra $750 above the quote. Finally, as we were due to leave Marathon the next day (the first decent weather window in almost a month), and I was afraid the owner would tie up our boat with a mechanic’s lien while we sorted this out in court, I agreed to pay for the $200 extra work Dwight did, plus an additional $400. So the system cost $6700 instead of the $6100 quoted.

Have you fallen asleep yet? Well, here was the bad news: we still had to run the generator every _other_ day, as the reefer was such a power hog that it ran the battery bank down by almost thirty percent over a two day period. To make your batteries last, it is best not to let them get depleted more than 30-40%, or you end up having to replace them frequently, instead of them lasting for a few years, and they are expensive. So, until we can spare the money to buy some solar panels, we basically spent $6700 to save about two gallons of diesel a day. At $4.00 a gallon, it will only take about 4.6 years to pay back the system ;-) Worse news: thanks to the Balmar alternator, the port engine began shredding belts. The alternator was misaligned, and after running for about eight hours, it ate a belt. We found this out as we were enroute to Rodriguez Key (FL) on our way to Bimini. I replaced the belt with a spare, but fifteen minutes after starting out the next morning, it ate the spare. As we were in convoy with several buddy boats for crossing the Gulf Stream while conditions were mild, we just ran on one engine.

Now, the monohull sailboats we traveled with were worried abut keeping up with our fast multi hull catamaran. Cats have a reputation for speed. Well, with all the provisions we brought (three months worth of food, dog food, full water tanks, extra tools, spare parts, etc. ), a month’s growth of algae and barnacles on the twin hulls, and only one engine, we were passed by every boat in the group, becoming the last to reach Bimini that day. The wind was light, so even with our jib out, we only averaged about 4 knots. (We might have picked up an extra knot if we had raised the main sail, as one other boat did, but Shirley and I have not had much experience with the sails up on this boat yet, and did not want the added complexity in case conditions worsened during the crossing. Most of the boats only flew their jib or genoa, as we did.)

Back to the belts. After we got to Bimini, I had one of our new friends, David Nutt from the UK, look at the engine. He said that the alternator was misaligned. I tried shimming the mount, and believed I got the Balmar’s pulley in parallel with the pulley on the engine. However, as I mentioned earlier, on the last part of the trip to Great Harbour, it shredded again. Today, sitting in the marina, I tried to decide if I would attempt to re-align the Balmar or put the original Yanmar alternator back on. Looking at the face of the Balmar, it appeared that a washer or shim behind the pulley might bring it out to where it would indeed be parallel. I located a larger washer that just exactly fit (a miracle in itself) over the large pulley shaft, yet was small enough to fit the back side of the pulley without rubbing on the alternator housing anywhere. I ran the engine at various rpm for a while, and it seemed to work properly. I won’t know for certain until it runs under load for a while , but I’ve got my fingers crossed. As the next leg of our journey is a 30 nm run across some deep water, followed by a 50 nm stretch across water exposed to the full fetch of the Atlantic Ocean with a lee shore, I’d _really, really_ like to have two engines to motor with, and two engines to maneuver with when we get to where we will anchor or dock. Those of you who have read this far, thanks for hanging in there. More to follow.

Boot Key Harbor Marina (aka City Marina) in Marathon, Florida is a popular spot. During the month we were there,the mooring field was completely full at times. There were some areas were you could anchor for free, and there was some dock space, but as the mooring was only $260 a month, we opted for that. This required a reliable dinghy, and we immediately had problems with that, as our outboard, a 1990 Johnson 9.9 hp two-stroke, would frequently stall out. Knowing we were going to need a completely reliable motor, especially when we got to the Bahamas, we decided to buy a new one.

We love Honda engines, and would probably have sprung for a Honda outboard (hundreds more than most other makes), but they weren’t available locally, so we settled for a Nissan. Supposedly Nissan and Tohatsu are basically the same engine,and the Tohatsu’s were a hundred or so cheaper, but the Nissan was more highly recommended. We got an 8 hp, instead of the 9.9, believing it to have plenty of power to push our 11’ AB dinghy, and it has proven to be sufficient, even in choppy waters. We had the guy who we bought the Nissan from at Inflatable Boats, Inc. to check out our old Johnson, so that we would have a spare. Reggie was not smart enough to ask what it would cost, believing it would only be $50-$100. When it was returned to us, it cost over $300, possibly more than the motor was worth. While it is nice to know the carburetor has been rebuilt, I try desperately to avoid wondering if it had just been an old batch of fuel in the fuel tank that was the problem in the first place ;-)

The staff at the City Marina were all very nice, and very helpful. The facilities themselves, however, were quite run-down. There were only two showers available, so there were usually long lines waiting to use them. There was only one bathroom - again usually a line. The dinghy dock was almost always so full t was difficult to find a place to squeeze in your dinghy. Water was only a nickel a gallon, but you had to move your boat to the dock to get it, of course. Pump-outs of your holding tanks were free, but were only done once a week, which was a stretch even with two heads (bathrooms). Mail was receivable through the marina, as well as packages, so we were able to order engine parts, supplies, and our medicines and have them shipped there. This worked well and was a godsend.

There were several other marinas at Marathon, but we didn’t bother to price them, as it was our understanding that the municipal marina was the cheapest. Fuel was not available there, but there were two fuel docks at the entrance to the harbor, both within a penny of each other on their prices. The City Marina also had wifi available at their office/community room, but we opted to purchase a month’s service from a local provider called Maricomm. What a mistake! Their bandwidth was so small that it almost always took several minutes for a page to download! I don’t know if that was because a lot of folks were using Skype (an incredible bandwidth hog) or if Maricomm simply subscribed too many people, but it was incredibly frustrating. If we ever return to Marathon, I will access wifi at the marina community room, even though it means a dinghy ride every time you want to get online.

The City Marina had a brand-new building with about ten showers/bathrooms, but it had not opened yet, in spite of having been completed sometime last year. We were told the issue was sewer line connection/access. You’d think the city would have their permits and all their ducks in a row before building the darn thing, but evidently that wasn’t the case. We were assured it would be open within a month or two. That remains to be seen, but hopefully it will be done before we go back next winter, if we do. There was talk that they were going to expand their dinghy dock as well, which would be nice.

There were several stores within (LONG) walking distance. A Publix and a Winn-Dixie supermarket, a KMart (with somewhat bare shelves), a West Marine and a Boater’s World (both quite expensive) and a Home Depot (the closest of all the stores.) We earned the hard way to shop at Home Depot first, as they had diesel jerry cans for almost ten bucks less than the two I bought at West Marine. If you had a bike, everything was a bit more accessible, but still a bit of a workout for an old codger like me. Especially on the warmer days.

In winter, getting a “weather window” - a period of time when the weather had been good long enough to calm the Gulf Stream down and that would remain good long enough for a safe crossing of the Stream - is frequently difficult to come by. Fortunately for us, we got one just as our months rent on the mooring was up. One of the neat things about the marina was the camaraderie amongst the boaters, and this was evidenced by a board upon which people listed their boat, it’s cruising speed, and it’s destination. Groups of boats would get together to discuss when and where they were going, and make plans to travel together. We ended up leaving in a group of about eight boats, and crossed the Gulf Stream over to the Bahamas in a convoy. It was a good feeling, for all of us, to know help was near if needed.

Finally, we made new friends while we were there. One of the nicest couples we met, and whom we hope to remain in contact with in the future, were Dave and Joanne Bakale, from Michigan. They own a beautiful Maxim 38 catamaran named Tropical Breeze, and we had a lot of fun socializing with them. As I’ve mentioned before, due to PTSD and my reclusive nature, I don’t socialize much, but Dave and Joanne were so nice and so easy to be with that Shirley and I just think the world of them. We met other nice folks as well: Bill and Bette Neumyer from Massachusetts, Butch, Gretchen and Reese Evans, and Rich Coffman from Delaware, along with his crew, David Nutt from the UK.

Rich and David traveled with us to Bimini on Rich’s Baba 30 monohull, and stayed there for two weeks with us while we waited for favorable weather to continue our journey. We explored the small islands of North and South Bimini, visited the Shark Research Center, and went out for beer and food together while we were there. We met another great couple, Jim and Marlene Jackson from Montana on their Hunter 46 (IIRC), and the three of us left Bimini together, Shirley and I enroute to the Abacos, and the others to Nassau.

We hit really nasty wind-driven chop shortly after we started, and just north of the tip of North Bimini, our dinghy davits collapsed, due to the up and down slamming we encountered from the closely set waves and confused seas. There was nothing the other boats could do to help us, so they continued on, while we turned back in order to save our dinghy and brand-new ($1900) outboard motor before we lost them. We motored to the shore into slightly calmer water, where we struggled with removing the 90 pound motor from the dinghy and bringing it aboard the boat, then securing the dinghy so that we could tow it behind. What a nightmare! We returned to the Bimini Sands Marina on South Bimini, and stayed for another night before starting out again. Next time we’ll describe the nasty passage to Great Harbour Cay, and our brief night anchored out on the Bahamas Bank, as well as our stay (unimpressive) on Great Harbour Cay.

Beasely has been an absolute gem as a boat dog so far. He is both the best and the worst of choices for a boat. Worst, because he is heavy, with short legs, and can't stay afloat for more than a minute or two. He has his own PFD, but we haven't actually tried it out yet to see if it will support his head above water. When we get to a cay with nice, warm water on a shallow  beach, we'll test it. In the meantime, we keep him on a short leash on board the boat, in case he sees a bird or dolphin and decides to join them for play.

He excels as a boat dog because he is calm, quiet, not bothered by being confined to relatively small quarters, and basically just happy to be anywhere with us. He doesn't require a lot of exercise, in fact he disdains it :-) We were very concerned about the elimination issue, but our catamaran has a trampoline up front, and we added a piece of "astroturf" that we had him "christen" before we put it on the boat. (Photo shows it just past him and Shirley.) Like the good boy that he is, he used it the morning of the second day he was on the boat, and has ever since. Even when we are underway, and the boat is rockin' and rollin', he will use it as needed. Beasely is now a member of the "I Peed In The Gulf Stream" club. (Here's a photo of him enjoying the breeze as we crossed the Stream.)

Beasely has been ashore twice while we were at the marina in Marathon, by dinghy.  It's a bit tricky, because the sterns have steps but they are too steep and deep for him to use, so we basically have to carry him down the steps and into the dinghy. He is fine once he gets inside the dinghy, although he doesn't wear his PFD often enough to get comfortable with it. We took him to Coral Gables when we took Shirley to the Miami Breast Institute for a stereotactic biopsy (negative,thank goodness) and when we went to Key West to sign up with Customs/Border Patrol for the "local boater option" I mentioned in an earlier post.

So, back to the travel news. We left Daytona Beach on the 3rd of January 2009. We would have left on the 31st of December, but had repairs that had not been completed, so had to extend. We moved south on the Intra-Coastal Waterway (ICW), anchoring out the first night, then spending a night on a mooring in Vero Beach, then anchoring for another night further south. Then we "went outside", leaving the ICW at Lake Worth Inlet, entering the Atlantic Ocean. We motor sailed through the night (nice full moon), ending up re-entering the ICW at Government Cut in Miami (see photos). From there we motor-sailed south down Biscayne Bay to Angelfish Cut, were we moved into Hawk Channel, between the Keys and the reefs that separate the channel from the Atlantic Ocean. 

We sent a night anchored at Rodriguez Key, and fueled the next morning at a dock in Key Largo that is accessed  by a canal that was extremely narrow. The canal makes a more than ninety degree turn at a place called, appropriately, "Crash Corner" or "Suicide Corner". Thank goodness the catamaran has an engine in the rear of each hull, as that wide spacing provides for excellent manueverability. By putting one engine in forward gear and the other in reverse, I was able to spin the boat 180 degrees in its own length. We made it back out without mishap, and got all the way down to Boot Key (Marathon) that night. As it was dark when we arrived, we elected to anchor outside for the night. The Boot Key Harbor bridge doesn't open at night anyway, so we would have had to motor up Sister's Creek to enter, and that is shallow and narrow, not something I would want to try in the dark if I didn't have to for some reason. 

As I obviously run off at the keyboard every time I post, I'll wait until the next post to give the low-down on Marathon, the City Marina, and some of the great people (and snobs) we met there.  

Cruising: fixing your boat in exotic places

It occurred to me, upon reflection, that my title and content might be a bit over the top for some family members, although most folks who are willing to call me "friend" know how irreverent and sometimes crude I can be. Being that the first post is indeed accurate in its depiction of the chain of events that led us to our boat and its name,  I can only say, "Mea culpa".

Having found and named our boat last November, we stayed on her at the Daytona Marina and Boatyard for the balance of the month, then moved to Loggerhead Club and Marina, still in Daytona Beach. We met a lovely couple, Lee and Laura Walker, who owned another Lagoon 37. They helped us immensely with advice and assistance, including helping us move Hot Chatte to Loggerhead.  They are attempting to sell their home in order to take up cruising full-time, and are planning on a trip to the Abacos (in the Bahamas) in April, so we hope to meet them there again, as well as when we return to Daytona (briefly) in May.

I should mention at this point that there is a loose association of Lagoon 37 owners on a web list, and a number of them have been extremely helpful to us. None more so than the gentleman who has been my role model as a cruiser for a number of years now, named Denny Deranek. A picture of Denny and his wife Diane on their Lagoon 37 graced the desktop of my computer as wallpaper for several years before we were able to buy our own boat. He as given unstintingly of his help and advice over the phone and by email, and we hope to be able to meet him in person this April or May in the Abacos, or later at his home marina in Johns Island, SC.

The month of December at Loggerhead was a time of much frustration, as we discovered that the surveyor had missed a number of very important issues, requiring more repairs and upgrades than we had been advised of or had planned for in our budget of time and money. Repairs were completed, only to require being done again, as wiring had corroded and the repairs to the devices connected to it would not hold. Engine mounts were loose, shafts out of alignment, valves out of adjustment, shaft seals loose and leaking. Bilge pumps would not run, the bimini required rebuilding, etc, etc., ad nauseum. I did as much of the repairs (bilge pumps, "head" [toilet] valves, wiring, lighting, replacing old running rigging, etc.) as I could, but some repairs were beyond my current ability.

The engine work was done by an individual who is a truly nice human being, but who proved the definition of "BOAT": Break Out Another Thousand. His estimate was $700-800, but the work ended up costing $1800. And some of it had to be redone when we got further south.

While this was going on, we commissioned a lady who does exquisite canvas work to build an enclosure for the cockpit, as we knew we would be using the boat in cold climates during part of the year. That is when we discovered the sorry state of the bimini frame, as well as the dodger that came with the boat. We ended up spending a lot more than we had planned, but her work was so good we were glad to have done it. Martha Ogburn  of Kustom Kovers, and her husband Dennis  (I understand he does almost any marine work that can be done on a boat. Wish I had known that before I hired the other guy) did the job, and they are really nice folks. 

Well, this brings us to another serious issue we had to deal with: the State of Florida, in its infinite wisdom and greed, has legislated that the purchase of a boat inside the state requires either the payment of sales tax (7.5% in our case, or $10400.00) or the removal of the boat from Florida waters within ten days. You can purchase a ninety day waiver for $25, but then you really have to get out. Penalties for not getting out can be as much as three times the sales tax that would have been owed as well as the possibility of jail time. Since we come from a state without a sales tax and do not wish to reside in Florida, we saw no reason to pay this tax. However, this meant vacating Florida by the 15th of February.

It gets darned cold north of Florida this time of year. We had planned on spending the winter in the Keys, staying reasonably warm, but since we could not do that, we opted for the Bahamas instead. So, at the end of December, we moved the boat to Marathon, Florida, the middle key of the chain. As we did not feel we had enough knowledge or experience to do that on our own, we asked some friends about hiring someone to help us move the boat. Another person from the Lagoon list who was very helpful gave us the name of an experienced captain who could help us move the boat and provide some training enroute. I called this captain, and based on what he told me, I thought he would be fine for the job, so I hired him (sight unseen) for $100 a day. Most sailing school instructors charge $400-500 per day, so I felt we were getting a bargain.

This fellow is from Massachusetts, and is a very nice guy. Unfortunately, he was unfamiliar with catamarans, wasn't quite clear on how to use our electronics, and didn't spend much time trying to train us on the way down. The real fly in the ointment, however, was that he suffered from verbal diarrhea. And most of what he talked about were personal reminiscences of famous people he worked for, met while sailing, etc. He talked so much, and said so little of value, that I finally had to come right out and ask him to try to curtail his conversation. He did try to comply, and was reasonably quiet for about a day, but the rest of the eleven days together seemed like an eternity. I am not really a social person, so this was my idea of what Hell must be like. Fortunately, his wife (or girlfriend) was able to meet us in Marathon, as we needed to go to Marathon (Boot Key Harbor), and he needed to get to Key West, so we parted a couple of days sooner than if we had had to transport him all the way to Key West ourselves. I cannot even begin to describe our relief at having him off the boat. Not a bad person, just an "oil and water" situation.

Going to the Bahamas  meant even more complications, as neither of us has a passport, we had a dog with us, we needed to purchase a decal for the boat from Customs/Border Patrol, and also chose to sign up for C/BP's "local boater option", which meant a car rental and trip to Key West to process the paperwork. The local boater option allows you (hopefully) to simply call an 800 number to clear with Customs when you return to the U.S., rather than having to show up in person at the nearest port of entry. They can still require your physical presence, but I am told that almost never happens. Let's hope that will be the case for us. As you can still enter the Bahamas and return to the U.S. with a birth certificate and photo I.D. (until June 1st, 2009), we had to defer getting passports until we return, as they take your birth certificate while they are processing your passport, and we needed ours in hand to enter the Bahamas.

The Bahamas was good about getting us the permit for "importing" Beasely, our English bulldog, into their country. The local veterinarians in Marathon were not good about doing his health certificate, at least in a timely fashion, so we opted to travel with his vaccination papers from our vet in Oregon, which showed them to be current, along with a copy of all his other medical records. Customs in the Bahamas never even asked to look at that, just the permit we were mailed.

Next time, I'll talk about how well Beasely has adapted to boat life (you certainly must have heard that ships have poop decks ;-) , and we'll describe the city marina in Marathon, as well as the trip to the Bahamas. Bear with us, folks. My keyboard logorrhea will end soon. Or maybe not.

A Single Step

Hopefully, our journey will consist of more than a thousand miles, but for the purposes of this blog, this is the first step.

In June of 2008, I quit my job as a staff nurse in the Mental Health Services of the Roseburg, Oregon VA Medical Center. Five more months of employment would have seen me retired with a small pension, but work conditions, and the conditions of care for our veterans, had (IMHO) deteriorated to the point where I could no longer stomach the job. My wife Shirley had retired over a year earlier, so we put our property on the market and in June it sold. As we had pounded large chunks of disposable income into the mortgage,  we ended up with enough equity to do something we had both dreamed about - to buy a sailboat to live aboard full-time.

After we left Roseburg, Oregon, we traveled east. We had been searching the Internet for some years to develop an idea of what sort of boat we would like, and had decided a catamaran would be our choice of sailing vessel. Our arrival on the East Coast signaled the start f our search for the boat we would purchase. We looked at boats with the help of a broker (Phil Berman, the owner of Multihull Company) from the Florida Keys to the Chesapeake Bay to Long Island Sound and New England. In November f 2008, we found a TPI Lagoon 37 in Daytona Beach, FL that we liked, and we purchased her.

She was built in 1995 by TPI in Rhode Island, reputedly a better manufacturer of the Lagoon 37 model than the French-built Lagoons. The boat had originally been named "Gwahir", but the fellow who owned her prior to our purchase had renamed her "Reference Point".  Shirley and I wanted a name that would reflect the fact that she was a catamaran, and  we batted some ideas around along with my stepmother Carolyn, during a visit with her.  As my family comes from French-Canadian stock on both sides, and being a lover of puns and other wordplay, I decided that "chat", French for cat, would be fun as part of the name. "Chat" is pronounced "sha", but the feminine "chatte" - French for "she-cat" - is pronounced "shot". Carolyn suggested "Hot Chatte" (pronounced Hot Shot), and that is what we named her. A French-Canadian fellow we met just after we bought her advised us that in French, "chatte" was slang for another word, beginning with "p", used when speaking of cats (and other things.)  So, when we had the graphics put on her stern as part of her documentation, we included a brush-stroke drawing of a cat "presenting" herself. What can I say?