Saturday, June 16, 2007
Now We Have Superpowers!!
Okay, we're not entirely sure that's true. But we DID get struck by lightning, yes lightning, last Friday at around 8 in the morning, about 5 miles off Ft. Pierce. To answer the most FAQs: the boat is floating, yes it was f*&#ing terrifying, yes nearly everything wired into our 12V system got fried, and yes we are totally fine. better than fine, really - in fact we're thrilled. Thrilled? well, to take a direct hit (which we did) and not suffer more damage to both the boat itself and our fleshy little conductive bodies is practically miraculous! We're the luckiest unlucky folks we know. You have to admit, getting struck by lightning is a pretty damn good excuse to not post on the blog for so long. in fact we plan to use this lightning excuse for everything for at least the next five years. don't say we didn't warn you....
So there we were, about 7 miles offshore, headed for the Ft. Pierce Inlet to enter the famed Intracoastal Waterway after a beautiful overnight sail from Miami (more about our fabulous time in Miami later). I came on shift at 6 AM and Allen nodded off to sleep. There was a huge squall threatening on the radar, but it looked like mostly rain with little electrical activity. About 20 minutes later the heavens opened and we were pelted with the kind of tropical torrent we haven't seen since Panama. Ariel was on shift on Hebe, just a few hundred yards away, and we chatted over the VHF about getting the shampoo out and taking cockpit bikini showers in the rain. no scary stuff yet. The wind died and the water was so calm that I was able to open Ute's water tanks to collect the rain water without risking salt spray sneaking into the mix. wonderful!
A couple miles later, around 8:00, somebody up there flipped a switch and brought in the lightning and thunder, seemingly out of nowhere. we've been in worse electrical storms, but I've never seen one sneak up so quickly. Sky-to-water strikes were happening all around us. I felt like we were caught in one of those stupid lightning-ball desk toys at Sharper Image. it was difficult to tell which direction might constitute an escape route, and with an average speed of 5 mph we're not much as an escape vehicle anyway. So I started to take the usual precautions: I cut power to all the non essential electronics, and made sure I neither of us was touching anything metal. As the strikes happened closer and closer I put the GPS in the oven (the oven, being a solid metal cage, offers great lightning protection for any electronics we can stick in it. unfortunately, most of our nav toys are not so easily detached from our electrical system). Since the wind had completely died, I was hesitant to turn off the autopilot and the engine as we would then be adrift with no steerage.
When I saw a bolt hit about 50 yards off our beam and felt the strike in my gut, I reprioritized. "Wake up baby, this shit is about to hit us...I'm turning off the engine, 'kay?" I hollered at a bleary Allen on the side berth. He popped right up and immediately started helping me turn off the few things that were still on. We killed the engine and started to bob (the phrase "sitting duck" springs to mind, but we couldn't put our beloved engine, Kiki, at risk). In an effort to ensure we weren't taking on water, Allen lifted a panel in our cabin sole and reached for the electric bilge pump switch and.....
CRAAAAAAAAAA-ACK! we heard and felt the bolt as it chose Ute's mast as the path of least resistance to the Atlantic. It was like a cannon shot that we felt from head to toe. It was, of course, over in a nanosecond and our first reaction was to check and make sure the other was basically intact. After a fetching display of our continued ability to wiggle fingers and form sentences, the next step was to grab a flashlight and check all of Ute's six through-hulls. For all you non-boaters, through-hulls are essentially valves, embedded in Ute's hull below the waterline, that allow the (intentional) entry and exit of water through hoses. In some cases the water is exiting, say from a sink or a toilet, and in some cases it is entering, for example in the case of the sea water that is pumped into and around our engine to cool it. More to the point, these through hulls have metal fittings and thus offer lightning a tantilizing exit point in a boat made of fiberglass (which is much less conductive). Lightning that comes in has to go out somewhere, and when a lightning bolt tries to squeeze its whole big flashy self into a wee through-hull fitting, it usually results in a huge hole in the hull which, as you might guess, generally results in sinking.
So, we were relieved to see no water, cracks, holes, or melted parts around any of our through-hulls. Ute was still floating! Huzzah! the next step was to see if the engine would start, which, miraculously and thankfully, it did. The next step of turning on all of our instruments and appliances to assess the damage was a little less rewarding: basically, the only things that still worked were the interior lights and the propane solenoid. The depth sounder, radar, autopilot, running lights, VHF radio, auxiliary fuel pump, and more were kaput. While we were still ecstatic to be alive, we were now stressed out that A) we weren't out of the storm yet and B) our boat had just lost thousands of dollars in value with one flash of lightning (it's not that we're materialists, but we are two near-broke individuals who were hoping to sell our boat mighty soon). We were already starting to contemplate just what this might mean for our Big Picture.
We dug our handheld VHF out of our ditch bag (abandon-ship bag) and found that its batteries, which had been purchased new and packaged separately in their own ziploc, were dead. we couldn't help but laugh - good thing we weren't actually abandoning ship, knock on wood. the moral of the story there is, don't go to a Chinatown in Panama and by batteries called, say, EverFready or DuraSmell. spend good money on your ditch bag! We raised Hebe on the radio, confirmed that they were still doing okay, and informed them that we would be heading into a marina in Ft, Pierce instead of anchoring out, as we normally would do. Not only did we need to assess the damage to Ute and have access to businesses on land, but because our wind generator and solar panels seemed to be fried, we didn't have a reliable way to live off-the-grid like we usually do aboard Ute. Hebe had lost their GPS when lightning hit close to their boat, but hadn't suffered any direct hits and was doing okay....
An hour later we found ourselves standing off in the entry channel to the marina while Hebe entered her slip there (they decided to come into the marina to to offer us help and moral support - thanks a million Tim and Ariel). When the harbormaster radioed us to give us the green light to come into the marina, Allen shifted the engine into forward and got - nothing. oh, boy. the transmission coupler bolt had apparently chosen that less than opportune moment to fail us. Luckily (that is becoming such a subjective word, isn't it) we were not in any danger as we drifted out of the channel and ran aground in the soft clay mud bottom of the ICW. That wasn't our finest moment. We had weathered the lightning strike pretty well, and were starting to deal with taking a huge hit in the final lap of our trip, but the transmission thing did test our resilience a bit. I threw out the anchor just to make sure we were parked and not endangering other boats while Allen bleated out words and phrases I can't share on a family blog.
After a couple solid minutes of being simpering, self-pitying idiots we got back on the proverbial horse and called Sea Tow on the radio. Mind you, we had reviewed the available on-the-water assistance plans (these are like marine AAA) in Miami and had it on our to-do list to sign up for one once we got in the ICW. I guess our timing was a little off on that, but after covering 5,000 very UNassisted sea miles since CA (most places we've sailed there wasn't an option of radioing anyone, let alone a tow company), it didn't seem like a high priority in this land of great marine resources. Sea Tow was happy to inform us that for the bargain price of $200 they would be happy to tow Ute the last 10 yards into the marina. Under any other circumstances we would surely have made Emeryville marina proud by assembling some eyesore of a jury rig to get that boat in - we probably could have pushed her with our dinghy and outboard - but since we were hitting all-time lows on the Luck-o-meter that day, we didn't want to add liability for property damage to the marina or other boats to our growing list of Ute's Issues. (The U.S. does have a lot going for it, but it can also be a ludicrously expensive place to make a simple mistake).
So we swallowed our pride, dug out our credit card, and paid Sea Tow about a dollar a foot to drag our sorry asses into a totally overpriced marina. Hebe was ready at the dock to catch our lines and hand us cold beers to cry into. Before we could even think about the state of our instrument and wiring, we knew we had to pull the transmission out and fix the coupler.
Now I'm getting into the part where Allen and Tim really worked some serious magic, so it's only fair that we let Allen write the next chapter of this saga. As I type this in a park next to the Eau Gallie Yacht Basin in Melbourne, FL, Allen is hard at work on Ute, adjusting Kiki's valve clearances with help from our friend Derek. He's promised to take a break soon-ish and chime in on the blog. (Here's a teaser: in the next chapter we find out how the lightning strike and the coupler failure were related).
To snapshot our current situation, we have been working on the boat pretty much nonstop since last Friday. Last Monday we motored the 48 ICW miles to here (Melbourne) where Derek was kind enough to get us a cheap slip at his marina. (We met Derek a year ago when we linehandled on his boat in the Panama Canal, two weeks before Ute went through). The nice folks at Car Collector magazine in Titusville (employer of Rick Carey and sometimes Allen) have been generous enough to loan us a truck for our daily runs to the marine and hardware stores here. Thanks guys! It seems like we picked a great spot to break down (maybe we have a knack for that - if you can't keep everything running, at least break down in the right places). Tim and Ariel have ended their sailing journey here, as planned, and have very generously taken time away from job-hunting and house-hunting to show up, voltmeters in hand, and help with the systems rehab effort. I guess you could say we stole their thunder - somewhere, in a parallel universe, we're spending our last dollars on a "Way to Go Hebe!" party instead of replacing stuff we already had. We sure couldn't ask for better friends than those two.
Until a couple days ago, we weren't sure we'd be able to continue our journey north due to time and money constraints, but we've decided to make a go of it. The last week has found us doing a condensed version of many of the projects that we did in the six months before leaving Emeryville - it's a bit overwhelming, but also a fantastic learning experience. We have a new radio, and a new depth sounder (luckily just the head unit was fried - the transducer took a lickin' and kept on tickin'). Our radar is at the Furuno shop in Washington, where they assured us that their quote for fixing it was less than a new one. We'll see about that. West Marine was either kind enough or clueless enough to honor the two-year warranty on our autopilot, despite the fact that it expired in April. Most of our days
have been spent running new wiring, testing circuits, and ordering new
parts. Many thanks to Capt. Tom Kennon in Maine for working some magic
with the West Marine manager down here!
Nobody believes me, but I still love Florida. It is incredibly beautiful here.....the ICW is like the Mississippi but with manatees, ospreys and ibises toolding around....the people are great...are we're making friends here we won't soon forget.
back to work now! more soon. hugs to everyone, UTE
So there we were, about 7 miles offshore, headed for the Ft. Pierce Inlet to enter the famed Intracoastal Waterway after a beautiful overnight sail from Miami (more about our fabulous time in Miami later). I came on shift at 6 AM and Allen nodded off to sleep. There was a huge squall threatening on the radar, but it looked like mostly rain with little electrical activity. About 20 minutes later the heavens opened and we were pelted with the kind of tropical torrent we haven't seen since Panama. Ariel was on shift on Hebe, just a few hundred yards away, and we chatted over the VHF about getting the shampoo out and taking cockpit bikini showers in the rain. no scary stuff yet. The wind died and the water was so calm that I was able to open Ute's water tanks to collect the rain water without risking salt spray sneaking into the mix. wonderful!
A couple miles later, around 8:00, somebody up there flipped a switch and brought in the lightning and thunder, seemingly out of nowhere. we've been in worse electrical storms, but I've never seen one sneak up so quickly. Sky-to-water strikes were happening all around us. I felt like we were caught in one of those stupid lightning-ball desk toys at Sharper Image. it was difficult to tell which direction might constitute an escape route, and with an average speed of 5 mph we're not much as an escape vehicle anyway. So I started to take the usual precautions: I cut power to all the non essential electronics, and made sure I neither of us was touching anything metal. As the strikes happened closer and closer I put the GPS in the oven (the oven, being a solid metal cage, offers great lightning protection for any electronics we can stick in it. unfortunately, most of our nav toys are not so easily detached from our electrical system). Since the wind had completely died, I was hesitant to turn off the autopilot and the engine as we would then be adrift with no steerage.
When I saw a bolt hit about 50 yards off our beam and felt the strike in my gut, I reprioritized. "Wake up baby, this shit is about to hit us...I'm turning off the engine, 'kay?" I hollered at a bleary Allen on the side berth. He popped right up and immediately started helping me turn off the few things that were still on. We killed the engine and started to bob (the phrase "sitting duck" springs to mind, but we couldn't put our beloved engine, Kiki, at risk). In an effort to ensure we weren't taking on water, Allen lifted a panel in our cabin sole and reached for the electric bilge pump switch and.....
CRAAAAAAAAAA-ACK! we heard and felt the bolt as it chose Ute's mast as the path of least resistance to the Atlantic. It was like a cannon shot that we felt from head to toe. It was, of course, over in a nanosecond and our first reaction was to check and make sure the other was basically intact. After a fetching display of our continued ability to wiggle fingers and form sentences, the next step was to grab a flashlight and check all of Ute's six through-hulls. For all you non-boaters, through-hulls are essentially valves, embedded in Ute's hull below the waterline, that allow the (intentional) entry and exit of water through hoses. In some cases the water is exiting, say from a sink or a toilet, and in some cases it is entering, for example in the case of the sea water that is pumped into and around our engine to cool it. More to the point, these through hulls have metal fittings and thus offer lightning a tantilizing exit point in a boat made of fiberglass (which is much less conductive). Lightning that comes in has to go out somewhere, and when a lightning bolt tries to squeeze its whole big flashy self into a wee through-hull fitting, it usually results in a huge hole in the hull which, as you might guess, generally results in sinking.
So, we were relieved to see no water, cracks, holes, or melted parts around any of our through-hulls. Ute was still floating! Huzzah! the next step was to see if the engine would start, which, miraculously and thankfully, it did. The next step of turning on all of our instruments and appliances to assess the damage was a little less rewarding: basically, the only things that still worked were the interior lights and the propane solenoid. The depth sounder, radar, autopilot, running lights, VHF radio, auxiliary fuel pump, and more were kaput. While we were still ecstatic to be alive, we were now stressed out that A) we weren't out of the storm yet and B) our boat had just lost thousands of dollars in value with one flash of lightning (it's not that we're materialists, but we are two near-broke individuals who were hoping to sell our boat mighty soon). We were already starting to contemplate just what this might mean for our Big Picture.
We dug our handheld VHF out of our ditch bag (abandon-ship bag) and found that its batteries, which had been purchased new and packaged separately in their own ziploc, were dead. we couldn't help but laugh - good thing we weren't actually abandoning ship, knock on wood. the moral of the story there is, don't go to a Chinatown in Panama and by batteries called, say, EverFready or DuraSmell. spend good money on your ditch bag! We raised Hebe on the radio, confirmed that they were still doing okay, and informed them that we would be heading into a marina in Ft, Pierce instead of anchoring out, as we normally would do. Not only did we need to assess the damage to Ute and have access to businesses on land, but because our wind generator and solar panels seemed to be fried, we didn't have a reliable way to live off-the-grid like we usually do aboard Ute. Hebe had lost their GPS when lightning hit close to their boat, but hadn't suffered any direct hits and was doing okay....
An hour later we found ourselves standing off in the entry channel to the marina while Hebe entered her slip there (they decided to come into the marina to to offer us help and moral support - thanks a million Tim and Ariel). When the harbormaster radioed us to give us the green light to come into the marina, Allen shifted the engine into forward and got - nothing. oh, boy. the transmission coupler bolt had apparently chosen that less than opportune moment to fail us. Luckily (that is becoming such a subjective word, isn't it) we were not in any danger as we drifted out of the channel and ran aground in the soft clay mud bottom of the ICW. That wasn't our finest moment. We had weathered the lightning strike pretty well, and were starting to deal with taking a huge hit in the final lap of our trip, but the transmission thing did test our resilience a bit. I threw out the anchor just to make sure we were parked and not endangering other boats while Allen bleated out words and phrases I can't share on a family blog.
After a couple solid minutes of being simpering, self-pitying idiots we got back on the proverbial horse and called Sea Tow on the radio. Mind you, we had reviewed the available on-the-water assistance plans (these are like marine AAA) in Miami and had it on our to-do list to sign up for one once we got in the ICW. I guess our timing was a little off on that, but after covering 5,000 very UNassisted sea miles since CA (most places we've sailed there wasn't an option of radioing anyone, let alone a tow company), it didn't seem like a high priority in this land of great marine resources. Sea Tow was happy to inform us that for the bargain price of $200 they would be happy to tow Ute the last 10 yards into the marina. Under any other circumstances we would surely have made Emeryville marina proud by assembling some eyesore of a jury rig to get that boat in - we probably could have pushed her with our dinghy and outboard - but since we were hitting all-time lows on the Luck-o-meter that day, we didn't want to add liability for property damage to the marina or other boats to our growing list of Ute's Issues. (The U.S. does have a lot going for it, but it can also be a ludicrously expensive place to make a simple mistake).
So we swallowed our pride, dug out our credit card, and paid Sea Tow about a dollar a foot to drag our sorry asses into a totally overpriced marina. Hebe was ready at the dock to catch our lines and hand us cold beers to cry into. Before we could even think about the state of our instrument and wiring, we knew we had to pull the transmission out and fix the coupler.
Now I'm getting into the part where Allen and Tim really worked some serious magic, so it's only fair that we let Allen write the next chapter of this saga. As I type this in a park next to the Eau Gallie Yacht Basin in Melbourne, FL, Allen is hard at work on Ute, adjusting Kiki's valve clearances with help from our friend Derek. He's promised to take a break soon-ish and chime in on the blog. (Here's a teaser: in the next chapter we find out how the lightning strike and the coupler failure were related).
To snapshot our current situation, we have been working on the boat pretty much nonstop since last Friday. Last Monday we motored the 48 ICW miles to here (Melbourne) where Derek was kind enough to get us a cheap slip at his marina. (We met Derek a year ago when we linehandled on his boat in the Panama Canal, two weeks before Ute went through). The nice folks at Car Collector magazine in Titusville (employer of Rick Carey and sometimes Allen) have been generous enough to loan us a truck for our daily runs to the marine and hardware stores here. Thanks guys! It seems like we picked a great spot to break down (maybe we have a knack for that - if you can't keep everything running, at least break down in the right places). Tim and Ariel have ended their sailing journey here, as planned, and have very generously taken time away from job-hunting and house-hunting to show up, voltmeters in hand, and help with the systems rehab effort. I guess you could say we stole their thunder - somewhere, in a parallel universe, we're spending our last dollars on a "Way to Go Hebe!" party instead of replacing stuff we already had. We sure couldn't ask for better friends than those two.
Until a couple days ago, we weren't sure we'd be able to continue our journey north due to time and money constraints, but we've decided to make a go of it. The last week has found us doing a condensed version of many of the projects that we did in the six months before leaving Emeryville - it's a bit overwhelming, but also a fantastic learning experience. We have a new radio, and a new depth sounder (luckily just the head unit was fried - the transducer took a lickin' and kept on tickin'). Our radar is at the Furuno shop in Washington, where they assured us that their quote for fixing it was less than a new one. We'll see about that. West Marine was either kind enough or clueless enough to honor the two-year warranty on our autopilot, despite the fact that it expired in April. Most of our days
have been spent running new wiring, testing circuits, and ordering new
parts. Many thanks to Capt. Tom Kennon in Maine for working some magic
with the West Marine manager down here!
Nobody believes me, but I still love Florida. It is incredibly beautiful here.....the ICW is like the Mississippi but with manatees, ospreys and ibises toolding around....the people are great...are we're making friends here we won't soon forget.
back to work now! more soon. hugs to everyone, UTE
Key West to Miami
Our sail from Key West to Miami was nothing short of fabulous. Hebe and Ute left together on a picture perfect morning with turquoise seas and baby-blue - almost lavender - skies overhead. A swim stop was mandatory for both boats....the string of keys looked tantalizing and we promised each other we'd come back and explore someday when we have more time. We were halfheartedly racing in very light winds and Hebe was winning - that is, until we deployed our secret weapon - the spinnaker! They claim this was cheating but have since confessed they were just extremely jealous.....
We spent three very fun days in Miami, which turned out to be a much more sailboat-friendly town than we'd expected. Our first stop was No Name harbor on Key Biscayne, where we finally saw our first manatee! so exciting! he popped up right next to Ute while munching on weeds. The park around the anchorage was beautiful and we took advantage of the cold showers and the great running path.......
The next stop was Hurricane Harbor, which is a tiny cove surrounded by some very hoity-toity real estate. the beauty of being on a sailboat is you can drop your anchor and park your scrappy little messy boat right off the backyard of some of the world's fanciest homes, and share their oceanview, and it's totally legal. and free. Ya gotta love that. One of the homes we anchored near was Brad Pitt's, but despite our great vigilance in watching the propoerty, neither Ariel nor I were rewarded with even a glimpse of the hunk. It was a great anchorage nevertheless.....
Next we enjoyed a quick sail across beautiful Biscayne Bay to Dinner Key anchorage. Biscayne Bay reminded us of Belize: there was a nice stiff sailing breeze but the water was flat and bottom-of-the-pool green as far as the eye could see. Great sailing grounds! Who knew?
After a couple days in Miami we finally tore my cousin Nat away from his work long enough to hang out with us. In his defense he was working round the clock doing last minute jobs on a gorgeous Formosa 56 that was about to leave for the Bahamas. His employers were generous enough to invite us out for lunch and then over to their boat so we could admire Nat's hard work. Even Ariel, who has been certified in soldering by Nasa, was oohing and aahing over the systems Nat installed. Nat is from the "real sailors" branch of Cora's family and as such, knows as hell of a lot more about boats than probably ever will. We learned a lot hanging out with him! Thanks Nat! We wish we could have stayed longer, but evidently we had a date with a lightning bolt that we just couldn't miss. Next time Nat tells us we "just have to" stay longer I think we'll pay better attention!
We spent three very fun days in Miami, which turned out to be a much more sailboat-friendly town than we'd expected. Our first stop was No Name harbor on Key Biscayne, where we finally saw our first manatee! so exciting! he popped up right next to Ute while munching on weeds. The park around the anchorage was beautiful and we took advantage of the cold showers and the great running path.......
The next stop was Hurricane Harbor, which is a tiny cove surrounded by some very hoity-toity real estate. the beauty of being on a sailboat is you can drop your anchor and park your scrappy little messy boat right off the backyard of some of the world's fanciest homes, and share their oceanview, and it's totally legal. and free. Ya gotta love that. One of the homes we anchored near was Brad Pitt's, but despite our great vigilance in watching the propoerty, neither Ariel nor I were rewarded with even a glimpse of the hunk. It was a great anchorage nevertheless.....
Next we enjoyed a quick sail across beautiful Biscayne Bay to Dinner Key anchorage. Biscayne Bay reminded us of Belize: there was a nice stiff sailing breeze but the water was flat and bottom-of-the-pool green as far as the eye could see. Great sailing grounds! Who knew?
After a couple days in Miami we finally tore my cousin Nat away from his work long enough to hang out with us. In his defense he was working round the clock doing last minute jobs on a gorgeous Formosa 56 that was about to leave for the Bahamas. His employers were generous enough to invite us out for lunch and then over to their boat so we could admire Nat's hard work. Even Ariel, who has been certified in soldering by Nasa, was oohing and aahing over the systems Nat installed. Nat is from the "real sailors" branch of Cora's family and as such, knows as hell of a lot more about boats than probably ever will. We learned a lot hanging out with him! Thanks Nat! We wish we could have stayed longer, but evidently we had a date with a lightning bolt that we just couldn't miss. Next time Nat tells us we "just have to" stay longer I think we'll pay better attention!
Saturday, June 02, 2007
For the last two weeks, Hebe and Ute have been sharing one "station wagon" to run errands: Ute's inflatable dinghy. The quarter-mile trek to land across major chop, serious tidal currents and powerboat wakes is always a good way to get soaking wet - especially when it's loaded down with the four of us and whatever we need to take to or from land! The tourists at the watefront restaurants always seem to enjoy the show when we show up covered in foul weather gear, trash bags, carrying our laundry, garbage, shower gear, and triple-bagged laptops to get online.
we potted our new plants at the dock to try and save the boats from all that dirt
here's a little video of Ariel coming to pick us up this morning, just to give you an idea of how fun this ride is even just with one person aboard!
a Barry wet night in Key West
So here we are, still in Key West on June 2nd...hard to believe...and not quite what we'd planned! We woke yesterday morning to hear the warm and wonderful computerized voices of the Wx channel perkily reminding us that June 1 marks the official start of Hurricane Season. Allen would have loved to be as far north as about Annapolis right now and I feel much the same way.....but what can you do? The last two weeks have been a total weather shutout in terms of northbound travel, and we know it's not just us as there are dozens of boats stuck here waiting for the same window as we are....
The plot thickened yesterday when, following a "cruising meeting" with Tim and Ariel and a weather check online, we walked into our favorite happy hour hole (we've been here long enough to have a favorite - yikes!) and found everyone in the bar riveted to the Weather Channel....where they had just announced the season's Second Named Storm: Tropical Storm Barry. I watched the color drain from Allen's face and heard him whisper, "Dammit, I knew we shouldn't have taken the time to go to Belize!". Mother Nature is wasting no time getting a jump start on this year's season. Tropical Storm Barry lay just 200 miles west of Key West yesterday evening, and treated us to pelting rain and howling winds for the entire night. Ariel told us today it was the first time she'd been seasick at anchor. We didn't sleep much, but we were happy to have not one but two anchors set out in a nice solid Bahamian moor (that's two anchors deployed from the bow, set 180 degrees apart from one another...a very solid ride).
Fortunately, Barry's main objective for his short life seems to be getting out of range of the Keys. at last check he was chugging N-NE at a very healthy rate, which we appreciate. The sky looks less ominous by the hour and the sun is even trying to shine. It looks like, amazingly, we'll be able to stick with our plan of leaving here early tomorrow morning, with the goal of reaching Miami Monday afternoon-ish. Sure hope it works.....
We have had a great time in Key West, all things considered. We've taken lots of bus rides to the shopping centers. One mall in particular has provided us with the Great American Makeover (on a budget) - we walked away with a cell phone, khakis, running shoes, a fixed front tooth, a haircut, pizza, some new herb plants, and new Craftsman tools in exchange for the broken and abused ones we brought in from Ute. Not bad! And we're always looking for a bargain in a town where we pay $5 just to park the dinghy every time we come to land, and $4 for a not very nice shower. Catching fish off the boat with a chicken rig is our new strategy for putting meat on the table at night: we've enjoyed fried feasts of yellowtail snapper and blue-striped grunt this week. We've taken advantage of the local park system and the beaches - and we've been reminded again of what an amazing and diverse state Florida really is. My childhood enchantment with Florida has been fully rekindled - I could definitely live here. But good jobs in the Keys are few and far between and we're hardly in a position to settle down until we've found either a buyer for the boat, or at least a safe place to park her that isn't in the path of hurricanes. So....the journey continues. Hopefully tomorrow. It will be nice to be underway again, for sure.
The plot thickened yesterday when, following a "cruising meeting" with Tim and Ariel and a weather check online, we walked into our favorite happy hour hole (we've been here long enough to have a favorite - yikes!) and found everyone in the bar riveted to the Weather Channel....where they had just announced the season's Second Named Storm: Tropical Storm Barry. I watched the color drain from Allen's face and heard him whisper, "Dammit, I knew we shouldn't have taken the time to go to Belize!". Mother Nature is wasting no time getting a jump start on this year's season. Tropical Storm Barry lay just 200 miles west of Key West yesterday evening, and treated us to pelting rain and howling winds for the entire night. Ariel told us today it was the first time she'd been seasick at anchor. We didn't sleep much, but we were happy to have not one but two anchors set out in a nice solid Bahamian moor (that's two anchors deployed from the bow, set 180 degrees apart from one another...a very solid ride).
Fortunately, Barry's main objective for his short life seems to be getting out of range of the Keys. at last check he was chugging N-NE at a very healthy rate, which we appreciate. The sky looks less ominous by the hour and the sun is even trying to shine. It looks like, amazingly, we'll be able to stick with our plan of leaving here early tomorrow morning, with the goal of reaching Miami Monday afternoon-ish. Sure hope it works.....
We have had a great time in Key West, all things considered. We've taken lots of bus rides to the shopping centers. One mall in particular has provided us with the Great American Makeover (on a budget) - we walked away with a cell phone, khakis, running shoes, a fixed front tooth, a haircut, pizza, some new herb plants, and new Craftsman tools in exchange for the broken and abused ones we brought in from Ute. Not bad! And we're always looking for a bargain in a town where we pay $5 just to park the dinghy every time we come to land, and $4 for a not very nice shower. Catching fish off the boat with a chicken rig is our new strategy for putting meat on the table at night: we've enjoyed fried feasts of yellowtail snapper and blue-striped grunt this week. We've taken advantage of the local park system and the beaches - and we've been reminded again of what an amazing and diverse state Florida really is. My childhood enchantment with Florida has been fully rekindled - I could definitely live here. But good jobs in the Keys are few and far between and we're hardly in a position to settle down until we've found either a buyer for the boat, or at least a safe place to park her that isn't in the path of hurricanes. So....the journey continues. Hopefully tomorrow. It will be nice to be underway again, for sure.
Monday, May 21, 2007
kickin it in the Keys....
Yup, we're still here in beautiful Key West. We keep meaning to write a nice long juicy post replete with tales of re-entry and journey planning details, but we're just having too much fun to slow down! We are happily reunited with Hebe after a year apart - she sailed in on Saturday night just in time for a beautiful Florida sunset and we spent most of the weekend swapping stories with them and catching up. Since we saw them last June, they've spent nine months backpacking through the Andes and two months sailing through the Caribbean, just a couple hundred miles behind us in some cases. So.....we're awfully happy that they caught up! They'll be with us until somewhere around Melbourne, Florida, where they plan to end their sailing journey, sell the boat, and join the ranks of Land People.
We'd planned to leave Key West before now, but figuring out our Northbound route and sailing strategies has proved a little trickier than we'd anticipated. We don't relish the idea of leaving here and getting pushed back by the very same current that made us take a 100-mile detour coming in here. So....this afternoon will find us at the nearest West Marine, poring over all the Florida Keys cruising guides available there. Hopefully we can get out of here by midweek; the next stop is Miami to hang out with a cousin of mine there. (To all of our cruiser friends who might read this blog, drop us a line if you have insight on weather and currents/countercurrents in the Hawk Channel! thanks).
Key West is really charming and we've enjoyed it so much more than we ever expected to....the downtown is pure Disneyland, and totally touristy, but the people here are so warm and the town is so damn cute and welcoming that you can't help but like it here. Our very first night in town, we started talking to a bunch of locals about what it was like living in Key West, and ended up getting invited over to one of their houses for stone crab, dinner, drinks, and a major dog fix (they had two super friendly pups). Let's face it, you can't help but go soft on a place where something like that happens your first day in town. Is it just Key West, or will we find that kind of hospitality in the rest of Florida? the Southeast? the East Coast? time will tell.... (We won't count on having a similar experience in Miami, that much is for sure!).
As for our plans beyond Miami, well, they're as vague as ever, but our basic goal is to be around the Chesapeake area by the end of June. June-ish. We'll make our way there via both the ICW and offshore routes - the combination will depend on weather. From there, we'll probably continue on as far as Connecticut, and reassess. We've long considered the spine of this trip to be roughly California-Connecticut (C to shining C?) so that's a good guideline. Of course, we are theoretically ready to sell the boat at anytime, if we find a buyer. Wanna buy a sailboat? Sure you do!
Naturally there are some big decisions looming on the horizon, especially as we look to the late summer and fall, but for now, we're still enjoying our trip to its fullest, and we're not even close to done with it - we still have at least a thousand miles to go! Being back in the US is fun, but not really a radical change -our days pass in similar ways, under similar conditions, on the same boat, with the same joys, challenges, freedoms, and limitations as before. And we still love it.
We've gotten some great questions lately in posts and emails - and the best one was "Why did Ray call Ute a 'plastic classic'?" Well, we're so glad somebody asked. Here's why - in the 60's, when boatbuilders figured out they could build boats out of this newfangled stuff called "fiberglass" (plastic) instead of wood, the first boats they built a lot tougher and thicker than they needed to be. Fiberglass doesn't have to be thick to be strong, the way wood might, but they didn't know that yet. So they made plastic boats as thick as wooden boats. Which means that boats built in the 60's and early 70's are built like the proverbial brick shithouse - they won't win any races but they'll take a lickin' and keep on tickin'. So when we went shopping for a tough cruising vessel, it wasn't just our budget that dictated we look for a boat at least as old as us - it was also our desire to survive this trip in one piece! The first time we had Ute out of the water to do some work on her, I went to drill a hole in the hull for the depth sounder. After about 5 minutes of drilling, I still hadn't broken through. I thought the drill was broken -but her hull was just so strong and so thick that I hadn't gotten through it yet! For those of you that can get your hands on a copy of the May issue of sail, be sure to read the article about the sailboat that got run over by a huge freighter in Brazil and survived: that boat was also built in 1967.
Anyway, it's time for the Ute-Hebe team to go be bums and see how long we can get away with reading sailing guides at West Marine without buying them. Wish us luck. Cheers, UTE
Thursday, May 17, 2007
oh say can you see............
The rumors are all true....well, at least the one about us re-entering the motherland. We're anchored just off of Key West....being in Florida is cool but....if this is the land of the free, why is everything so expensive?
We arrived late last night after a mostly relaxing passage...checked into the country this morning...said a teary goodbye to Danny after a wonderful lunch with his parents...and wandered around the streets of Key West doing touristy crap for the rest of the day. Way fun!
The passage here really was incredible. We left Isla Mujeres Thursday morning and had astoundingly good weather (or a lack thereof, really - no news is good news in the Florida Straits) straight through until about Monday afternoon. Just a few hours out of Isla Mujeres we encountered the fabled Gulf Stream, lurking almost exactly where the charts predicted it would be. Wow! what a current....we knew it would be strong in some places, but what we didn't know was that it could be so DISTINCT. It's hard to describe it now, but the current was so sharp and so powerful that it was like a conveyor belt, or one of those people-movers at the airport. You could actually see the edge of it - so weird. we'd be going our normal speed in one spot, then enter the Gulf Stream - like taking an on-ramp onto the freeway - and suddenly our speed would double. It was a wild ride. It carried us at an easy 7+ knots for about the first 150 miles of our journey, and we were thankful for it! It veered off towards Texas a little further than we were willing to follow it, but it was fun while it lasted. (click on the Gulf Stream link in our "Links" section in the sidebar to see a very cool image of this wondrous natural phenomenon. Thanks NOAA).
After that, we putt-putted contentedly towards Key West. Most of our passage consisted of blissfully calm motoring on the flattest ocean we have ever seen, anywhere. Not a breath of wind. A little boring, perhaps, and yes we were burning diesel like crazy, but these waters have a malevolent reputation for a reason - so calm was just fine with us. At one point the water was so glassy that the few clouds in the sky were crisply reflected in the sea - something I've only seen on lakes. The boys focused their energies upon building the perfect lure, and their efforts were rewarded when they landed a 20-pound dorado (that's mahi mahi to you West Coast folks) which we promptly transformed into about a gallon of delicious ceviche, and tasty pan-fried fillets. Yum yum..........
Since we'd coerced Danny into rearranging his travel plans and staying with us as far as Florida, we were thrilled that the passage was so relaxed...one afternoon included a swim, fresh-baked key lime pie, and - very exciting - a movie watched on the laptop in the cockpit! so fun. As we neared Key West, we entered a countercurrent that cut our speed down to an anemic 2.5 knots, but since there was little we could do so we just plodded along.
On Monday afternoon, with just 12 miles left to cover between us and the Key West ship channel entrance, a bolt rattled off of our heat exchanger. I shut off the autopilot and grabbed the tiller to steer while the boys attempted to fish the offending bolt from the bilge. The good news was, they managed to reattach the bolt. The bad news was, in the brief time it took to solve that problem, the weather totally deteriorated and suddenly we found ourselves in that notorious Caribbean short, steep chop with building winds on the nose, lightning flashing all around and rain on the way. Suddenly it didn't seem like such a sure thing that we'd be anchored in Key West later that evening. It shouldn't surprise us anymore how fast things can change when sailing.
As night set in the weather just got nastier. Nothing dangerous, but extremely frustrating as the wind and current were both gathering strength against us, lowering our speed to zero and leaving us unable to navigate in any point of the compass between about 5 degrees and 185 degrees. Rather inconvenient seeing as our destination lay about 10 miles due east of us. It was a really long night, with each of us doing short shifts of hand-steering, trying with all our might to claw out some eastbound progress. Twelve hours later, after tacking back and forth all night we had actually lost ground and were three miles west of where we'd started. ouch! We'd point the boat towards the east, only to have the GPS inform us that we were actually going straight north or straight south, no matter which way we were facing. As the weather showed no signs of mellowing out we were getting pretty stressed about our options, or more accurately the frustrating lack of options.
Tuesday morning's sunrise brought some optimism, as sunrise often does, and the three of us put our heads together to figure out if there were any rational alternatives to our planned route. This is where having a non-seasick crew member with nav skills really came in handy - Danny has the vestibular fortitude to go belowdecks in cruddy weather and stare at charts for half an hour without wanting to die. (We're grateful and jealous at the same time). We were relieved to find that there was an alternative that just might work - backtracking through a maze of shoals and smaller channels, heading west, then north, then southeast to enter Key West from a totally different direction. So that's exactly what we spent all of Tuesday doing - the funny part is we ended up going about 95 extra miles after being just 9 miles from Key West on Monday! But I guess that's what sailing is all about......and when we finally rolled in here at 8:30 last night we sure were happy to kill the engine, drop a couple anchors and pass the grog.....
I inspired (read: forced) the boys to sing "America" by Neil Diamond as we entered the channel into Key West harbor. How could we not?
It was such a joy for us to have a good friend aboard for the last six weeks - thanks again Danny for coming down - we'll miss having you here!
We expect to stay in Key West for at least 4 or 5 days, hopefully allowing us to see Hebe (they left Isla Mujeres on Monday) and wait for a good weather window to head North. We were so sad to narrowly miss Hebe in Belize and Mexico so we'll be thrilled if we can see them here (we tried and tried, unsuccessfully, to let them know our plans and whereabouts over the shortwave radio nets, but I think they actually slipped off the map for a week into that part of the chart that says "There Be Dragons"). We need to make some decisions about our northbound routing....will we ride the Gulf Stream once again or will we explore the ICW? We'll have to decide soon.....
Thanks everyone for welcoming us back to the USA and for all the blog comments - we do so appreciate all the support of our friends and family. xoxo UTE
We arrived late last night after a mostly relaxing passage...checked into the country this morning...said a teary goodbye to Danny after a wonderful lunch with his parents...and wandered around the streets of Key West doing touristy crap for the rest of the day. Way fun!
The passage here really was incredible. We left Isla Mujeres Thursday morning and had astoundingly good weather (or a lack thereof, really - no news is good news in the Florida Straits) straight through until about Monday afternoon. Just a few hours out of Isla Mujeres we encountered the fabled Gulf Stream, lurking almost exactly where the charts predicted it would be. Wow! what a current....we knew it would be strong in some places, but what we didn't know was that it could be so DISTINCT. It's hard to describe it now, but the current was so sharp and so powerful that it was like a conveyor belt, or one of those people-movers at the airport. You could actually see the edge of it - so weird. we'd be going our normal speed in one spot, then enter the Gulf Stream - like taking an on-ramp onto the freeway - and suddenly our speed would double. It was a wild ride. It carried us at an easy 7+ knots for about the first 150 miles of our journey, and we were thankful for it! It veered off towards Texas a little further than we were willing to follow it, but it was fun while it lasted. (click on the Gulf Stream link in our "Links" section in the sidebar to see a very cool image of this wondrous natural phenomenon. Thanks NOAA).
After that, we putt-putted contentedly towards Key West. Most of our passage consisted of blissfully calm motoring on the flattest ocean we have ever seen, anywhere. Not a breath of wind. A little boring, perhaps, and yes we were burning diesel like crazy, but these waters have a malevolent reputation for a reason - so calm was just fine with us. At one point the water was so glassy that the few clouds in the sky were crisply reflected in the sea - something I've only seen on lakes. The boys focused their energies upon building the perfect lure, and their efforts were rewarded when they landed a 20-pound dorado (that's mahi mahi to you West Coast folks) which we promptly transformed into about a gallon of delicious ceviche, and tasty pan-fried fillets. Yum yum..........
Since we'd coerced Danny into rearranging his travel plans and staying with us as far as Florida, we were thrilled that the passage was so relaxed...one afternoon included a swim, fresh-baked key lime pie, and - very exciting - a movie watched on the laptop in the cockpit! so fun. As we neared Key West, we entered a countercurrent that cut our speed down to an anemic 2.5 knots, but since there was little we could do so we just plodded along.
On Monday afternoon, with just 12 miles left to cover between us and the Key West ship channel entrance, a bolt rattled off of our heat exchanger. I shut off the autopilot and grabbed the tiller to steer while the boys attempted to fish the offending bolt from the bilge. The good news was, they managed to reattach the bolt. The bad news was, in the brief time it took to solve that problem, the weather totally deteriorated and suddenly we found ourselves in that notorious Caribbean short, steep chop with building winds on the nose, lightning flashing all around and rain on the way. Suddenly it didn't seem like such a sure thing that we'd be anchored in Key West later that evening. It shouldn't surprise us anymore how fast things can change when sailing.
As night set in the weather just got nastier. Nothing dangerous, but extremely frustrating as the wind and current were both gathering strength against us, lowering our speed to zero and leaving us unable to navigate in any point of the compass between about 5 degrees and 185 degrees. Rather inconvenient seeing as our destination lay about 10 miles due east of us. It was a really long night, with each of us doing short shifts of hand-steering, trying with all our might to claw out some eastbound progress. Twelve hours later, after tacking back and forth all night we had actually lost ground and were three miles west of where we'd started. ouch! We'd point the boat towards the east, only to have the GPS inform us that we were actually going straight north or straight south, no matter which way we were facing. As the weather showed no signs of mellowing out we were getting pretty stressed about our options, or more accurately the frustrating lack of options.
Tuesday morning's sunrise brought some optimism, as sunrise often does, and the three of us put our heads together to figure out if there were any rational alternatives to our planned route. This is where having a non-seasick crew member with nav skills really came in handy - Danny has the vestibular fortitude to go belowdecks in cruddy weather and stare at charts for half an hour without wanting to die. (We're grateful and jealous at the same time). We were relieved to find that there was an alternative that just might work - backtracking through a maze of shoals and smaller channels, heading west, then north, then southeast to enter Key West from a totally different direction. So that's exactly what we spent all of Tuesday doing - the funny part is we ended up going about 95 extra miles after being just 9 miles from Key West on Monday! But I guess that's what sailing is all about......and when we finally rolled in here at 8:30 last night we sure were happy to kill the engine, drop a couple anchors and pass the grog.....
I inspired (read: forced) the boys to sing "America" by Neil Diamond as we entered the channel into Key West harbor. How could we not?
It was such a joy for us to have a good friend aboard for the last six weeks - thanks again Danny for coming down - we'll miss having you here!
We expect to stay in Key West for at least 4 or 5 days, hopefully allowing us to see Hebe (they left Isla Mujeres on Monday) and wait for a good weather window to head North. We were so sad to narrowly miss Hebe in Belize and Mexico so we'll be thrilled if we can see them here (we tried and tried, unsuccessfully, to let them know our plans and whereabouts over the shortwave radio nets, but I think they actually slipped off the map for a week into that part of the chart that says "There Be Dragons"). We need to make some decisions about our northbound routing....will we ride the Gulf Stream once again or will we explore the ICW? We'll have to decide soon.....
Thanks everyone for welcoming us back to the USA and for all the blog comments - we do so appreciate all the support of our friends and family. xoxo UTE
Wednesday, May 09, 2007
the lagoon inside Turneffe Atoll was always some titillating shade of green. The three atolls of Belize (Turneffe, Glover and Lighthouse), along with Chinchorro atoll near Xcalak, Mexico, are the only true atolls in this part of the world. Pretty neat stuff. (and that little speck on the horizon in the pic is Ute at anchor).
another Belize first was actually catching edible fish! Between that and all the conch, we´ve been eating like kings for the last couple weeks: mackerel tacos, red snapper marinated in ginger, soy sauce and peppers, conch fritters, fish chowder.......yum.........
the tasty lobsters of Belize, however, eluded capture. too smart or just too fast? we´ll never know. we sure did have fun trying though....we spent an entire afternoon just harassing the same two poor lobsters at Turneffe. We thought our homemade lobster-grabbing device was pretty hot until we actually tried it. Who knew the little buggers could jet around so damn fast? how do people do it?
the tasty lobsters of Belize, however, eluded capture. too smart or just too fast? we´ll never know. we sure did have fun trying though....we spent an entire afternoon just harassing the same two poor lobsters at Turneffe. We thought our homemade lobster-grabbing device was pretty hot until we actually tried it. Who knew the little buggers could jet around so damn fast? how do people do it?
We could only safely sail during the day when we were inside the reef, so the passages were mercifully short: we usually sailed from about 7 AM to 1 PM and then played the rest of the day - at a different island every day. And since we were inside the reef, we got all the wind with none of the waves. I could definitely get used to daysailing! Everyone is awake at the same time (well besides the power naps), no seasickness, and we can actually focus on sailing for fun. It was great.
So unless you've seen a detailed map of Belize lately, you may not realize that Belize includes literally hundreds of little cays and islands tucked behind a thriving barrier reef (the second longest in the world) plus a trio of offshore atolls. We'd heard so many superlatives about Belize that we feared it might not live up to our expectations, but it was SPECTACULAR! lots of cruisers we've talked to strongly preferred the atolls and outer islands, but the found the inner islands to be just as compelling as the outer reefs. The best part was, every island was a little different: some were inhabited, some weren't; some were mostly mangroves, some were calendar-ready palm-fringed white-sand islets; some reefs were long, wave-battered fringes of growth and others bejeweled fields of huge coral heads.
The underwater topography was as tantalizingly varied as what we saw above the surface...another surprise for us. In some places the seafloor would gradually shoal up or fall off into the ocean's depths, but in other places we found small mountains ranges, huge underwater sinkholes, odd little seamounts, and underwater caverns. Given that the nearby Yucatan peninsula is peppered with natural sinkholes and subterranean caves and springs, I guess Belize's underwater landscape is just a natural extension of that. Makes us wish we'd had a geologist on board to explain it all! At one point we accidentally veered out of a deep-water channel into a huge stretch of coral garden, and while it was really stressful to weave through the many hazards, it was also breathtakingly beautiful. Sort of like sailing through an aquarium. We watched enthralled from the ratlines as sharks and rays swam among huge coral formations, and Ute passed through single-digit depths of radiant water in every shade of turquoise and toothpaste green you can imagine. There were points where we almost had to remind ourselves that the beauty was dangerous to our boat. Almost.
Having a third set of eyes on deck was a huge boon in such risky sailing grounds. Seems like Danny is often on board for Ute "firsts" and this trip was no exception. The most exciting first was when we exited the barrier reef through a relatively uncharted and somewhat risky gap in the coral. This meant waiting until the sun and water were right where we wanted them and then driving our beloved boat straight towards a landform that has wrecked many a ship. We held our breath for what felt like hours (it was probably only about 45 minutes of action) as we kept our eyes riveted to the water and, alternately, the depth sounder. It was so much fun and SO exhilirating! Of course we don't have any pictures, since one of the bummers about sailing is you never get pictures of the really exciting stuff because everyone is busy doing something else. The water was so clear that 15 feet looked like about 3, adding to our general stress levels but also affording us views of the reef that made it feel like we were snorkeling. I've never seen anything like it. As we passed through the last gauntlet of coral, the bottom immediately dropped away to 50 feet and we saw the familiar cobalt of the Caribbean ahead - much to our excitement and relief!
The underwater topography was as tantalizingly varied as what we saw above the surface...another surprise for us. In some places the seafloor would gradually shoal up or fall off into the ocean's depths, but in other places we found small mountains ranges, huge underwater sinkholes, odd little seamounts, and underwater caverns. Given that the nearby Yucatan peninsula is peppered with natural sinkholes and subterranean caves and springs, I guess Belize's underwater landscape is just a natural extension of that. Makes us wish we'd had a geologist on board to explain it all! At one point we accidentally veered out of a deep-water channel into a huge stretch of coral garden, and while it was really stressful to weave through the many hazards, it was also breathtakingly beautiful. Sort of like sailing through an aquarium. We watched enthralled from the ratlines as sharks and rays swam among huge coral formations, and Ute passed through single-digit depths of radiant water in every shade of turquoise and toothpaste green you can imagine. There were points where we almost had to remind ourselves that the beauty was dangerous to our boat. Almost.
Having a third set of eyes on deck was a huge boon in such risky sailing grounds. Seems like Danny is often on board for Ute "firsts" and this trip was no exception. The most exciting first was when we exited the barrier reef through a relatively uncharted and somewhat risky gap in the coral. This meant waiting until the sun and water were right where we wanted them and then driving our beloved boat straight towards a landform that has wrecked many a ship. We held our breath for what felt like hours (it was probably only about 45 minutes of action) as we kept our eyes riveted to the water and, alternately, the depth sounder. It was so much fun and SO exhilirating! Of course we don't have any pictures, since one of the bummers about sailing is you never get pictures of the really exciting stuff because everyone is busy doing something else. The water was so clear that 15 feet looked like about 3, adding to our general stress levels but also affording us views of the reef that made it feel like we were snorkeling. I've never seen anything like it. As we passed through the last gauntlet of coral, the bottom immediately dropped away to 50 feet and we saw the familiar cobalt of the Caribbean ahead - much to our excitement and relief!
Viva Mexico.....
Hi everybody from Isla Mujeres! We arrives here two days ago after a couple weeks of blissed-out island exploration in Belize and Southern Mex....wow! I will try and get some pictures and Belize stories up here tonight as time and connectivity allows...in the meantime the report is this: we are outta here tomorrow morning bound for, drum roll please, Key West USA. so you'll forgive us if we spend our last night in Mexico enjoying the street meat and cold cervezas instead of typing away for long! It's a gorgeous afternoon here in the turquoise anchorage at Isla Mujeres....we were here six years ago for Allen's 30th and it's just as charming as it was then; in fact, the poisonous development that generally spreads outward from Cancun has still spared this place for the most part. And it's such a joy to be back in Mexico...there's no place like it! We're loving this brief fling with the land of tacos al pastor, tamale ladies on trikes, poc-chuc, Sol with a lime......
we love you, Mexico!
we love you, Mexico!
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