Category Archives: General

Camping Experiment

Campsite Bear Island
Making pancakes al fresco, Bear Island, Big Cypress National Preserve

“We aren’t camping.” This, at least, is what we said to ourselves over and over after we moved aboard Take Two, as we justified the expensive upgrades that made our boat a comfortable home and not just a place we carried our stuff to and from on the weekends. When we bought Take Two in 2008, we would drive down to the marina in Bradenton, Florida every Friday when Jay got home from his week of work travel. We would pack clothes, food, bedding, toys and tools and drive an hour and a half with four kids under the age of eight, then unload the stuff into dock carts and carry it all down to the boat. We were practicing everything at once—sailing, docking, anchoring, fixing things that broke, water and power conservation, and becoming more flexible and resilient as we learned a new kind of lifestyle. Then, at the end of the weekend, after we had completed boat projects and kept our four small children alive and occupied, we would pack everything up again and carry it home.

Snoozy Cargo
Sam in the dock cart

Let me be honest: it was camping. Sometimes the electricity didn’t work correctly, we didn’t have a working hot water heater, the stove was a European electric cooktop that worked on a frequency of 50hz, which meant that it didn’t work in the US, whose grid system delivers 60hz, so cooking was tricky. It was too hot, too cold, too windy, too rainy, too small, and too uncomfortable a lot of the time. But it was also fun, challenging, and a great adventure. It forced us to learn and grow and keep our wits about us. But after we had moved aboard in 2009, then traveled for most of 2010, we found ourselves expecting another child, so, we came back to the dock to have a baby and refit the boat to make it more comfortable for a family of seven. And we were not camping. We installed electric freshwater flushing toilets, a good hot water heater, a washing machine, new galley appliances, new upholstery and table in the salon and new countertops and cabinets in the galley, a new stereo system, and shade awnings for sun protection and privacy in the cockpit. That was just the beginning. We later upgraded the solar power system, battery bank, watermaker, dinghy, engines and generator, hard top over the cockpit, window covers and dodger, cockpit enclosure, refrigeration, and air conditioners, among other things.

Galley then and now
Galley, 2008 and 2012

For the last fifteen years, we have lived in what feels like a floating palace—perhaps not as posh as a mega-yacht, but a perfectly comfortable home for our family. We have plenty of water, plenty of power, cool conditioned air for hot buggy nights in the tropics, hot showers for the cool nights, comfortable mattresses for a good night’s sleep, a  gas stove, oven, and grill and every necessary kitchen gadget so that we cook and eat whatever we want, and even an ice maker and a blender for those perfect sunset piña-coladas or morning smoothies. We may sleep with our hatch open and have the feeling of being out under the stars and we may be in remote, beautiful locations in the great outdoors, but we are not roughing it.

Good Morning Dry Tortugas
Morning coffee with a view

Living aboard is much more like RV camping, or “glamping,” than primitive tent camping. It gives us a fair amount of adventure travel without all the inconvenience of setting up and tearing down camp every few days. Our boat came with camping gear, but one can only guess what it was for. Perhaps for beach camping or overland trips. We aren’t really sure, and it was old gear that we never used, so we got rid of it. The only camping we have done is in the backyard of a friend’s house, because he was a state park ranger, and our son Sam requested a camping birthday, complete with fire pit and s’mores. That was one night, twelve years ago, and it was fun, but Jay and I agreed that we did not like sleeping on the ground and preferred our mattress on the boat.

Birthday Camping
Sam’s 6th birthday camping fun

But one recent January night, a few weeks before Sam turned eighteen, he laid out all the camping gear on our salon table which he had acquired for an upcoming backpacking trip with his big brother Eli, an 1100-mile thru-hike of the Florida Trail, from Big Cypress to Pensacola. And, suddenly, we perked up and started to be interested in camping. The trip looked like it had a lot of fun camping spots along the way, and we have discovered that there are many remote wilderness areas we would like to explore that are not coastal in nature, places to which we cannot sail. We’ve done a few road trips, mostly traveling from Airbnb to Airbnb or staying with old friends, trips to visit National Parks in our country’s vast interior, but camping was not really on the radar. Maybe it was because our family was so big, or maybe because we satisfied our need for adventure by cruising on the boat, but until recently, it didn’t seem like a good idea. Of course, we now find ourselves in a phase of life where we are sandwiched between caring for our kids and caring for our parents, where we’ve spent a fair amount of time dropping off and picking up teenagers at various activities and taking parents to doctors’ appointments and visiting hospitals. We don’t feel like we can just take off on our boat for long periods of time. Though we did get to take a six-week sailing trip to the Bahamas last spring, sitting at the dock for long periods of time makes us feel like we’re stagnating.

Ready to Go

So, taking inspiration from our boys’ backpacking trip, we went to Sportsman’s Warehouse and Dick’s Sporting Goods one night to look at camping gear. That led to some goal-setting and list-making, and to other trips, first to REI, then to Bass Pro Shop’s Outdoor World in Fort Myers, and finally, to Walmart, to set ourselves up for a camping experiment. I can tell you that it was not cheap, but compared to buying and outfitting a sailboat, it was also not expensive!  And it didn’t seem that hard—with only three of us—Jay, Rachel, and me—it meant the gear would fit into our Suburban with the third row folded down, that we didn’t need a huge tent, and that we didn’t need to carry food to feed an army of teenage boys.

Bear Island Scenery
Bear Island campground, Big Cypress National Preserve

We chose a campground and made a reservation at Bear Island inside Big Cypress National Preserve, on a weekend when the weather would be cool, between 60-75°.  We packed the new cooler with ice and weekend staples, loaded the car with the new gear, and headed out into the swamp. Bear Island is not really an island in the traditional sense. It is a place of high ground in a cypress forest that remains wet most of the year. The campground sits on a relative island of pine trees, palmetto scrub, grassy meadows, palm trees, and hardwood hammocks. The site came with a fire ring and grate, a picnic table, and a pole where one could hang the trash out of reach of bears and raccoons. It also had communal composting toilets, “chimney bathrooms” as Rachel likes to call them. We did not know how good or bad they would be, so we brought a small camp toilet and privy tent just in case.

Packing up camp
Car camping

We set up camp late in the afternoon, re-creating our comfortable home in miniature: a comfortable place sleep, a screened area where we could sit without being eaten by bugs, an outdoor galley with camp stove, utensils, and even a kitchen sink. We did end up using the privy tent and camp toilet, and brought enough water and a solar shower so we had the luxury of privacy and one shower each on Saturday. (Overall, it was a successful experiment. We used almost everything we brought. We cooked on the fire, which was fun, took a lovely long walk on one of the off-road vehicle trails through the forest and swamp, played dominoes, read our books, made s’mores, and even had a breakfast of pancakes made outdoors. We slept fairly well and woke up to birdsong and the cool breeze rustling in the palm fronds. We packed up camp midday Sunday and went back to the boat, where we made a list of things we would do differently and places we’d like to go next. So, I guess we are camping, after all!

(Next up, Camping Experiment Part 2: Gear Review.)

Afternoon Dominoes
What people used to do before screens

The Road Less Traveled

Florida Trail Start
Start of the Florida Trail, Big Cypress National Preserve Oasis Visitor Center

The crew of Take Two is off on new adventures. Eli has just completed his EMT (Emergency Medical Technician) training and certification. Aaron is coming up on his one-year anniversary with Mercedes-Benz and he enjoys playing airsoft on the weekends with his dad and siblings and driving the 1997 Trans Am he bought last year.

Airsoft
Boys at Airsoft
Aaron's Car
Aaron’s 1997 Trans Am WS6

Sarah is also completing her first year in the U.S. Coast Guard at Shinnecock Station in Long Island, NY, and waiting for a spot to open up in the A-school of her choice, where she will begin her career training. She came back to visit recently and it’s so good to see her happy and independent.

Sarah USCG Station Shinnecock NY
Sarah, USCG Shinnecock Station, Long Island, NY

Sam is in his last year of homeschool high school, and he and Eli are taking a two-month hiatus to thru-hike the Florida Trail, about 1,100 miles from Big Cypress National Preserve in the Everglades (about 30 minutes from our marina) to Pensacola in the Panhandle through the swamps, prairies, pine flatwoods, salt marshes, and hardwood hammocks of our beautiful state.

Florida Trail Map.jpg
Interactive Map of the Florida Trail from the U.S. Forest Service

Jay, Rachel, and I dropped Eli and Sam off last Sunday afternoon (January 12th) at the Oasis Visitor Center in Ochopee. They could not have picked a more beautiful day to start their long walk. Carrying everything they need for the next two months on their backs, they walked off into the scrub, expecting to make it to the first camp (9.8 miles) by dark, where they would use their satellite communicator to send a message with coordinates. This allows us to follow them vicariously and know where they stop at the end of each day. If necessary, they could contact us if they needed help or supplies. They plan to re-provision along the way, so we don’t really expect a message with requests, but it’s nice to know where they are. I know our families appreciated the similar comfort our device offered while we were out sailing. They could map our journey and follow along as we made passages or hopped between islands.

Florida Trail Ochopee
Start of the Florida Trail Thru-Hike, Ochopee to Pensacola

I am beyond pleased that we are raising kids that have both the desire and the confidence to undertake a journey like this one. We did not go camping with our kids when they were younger, though we spent a lot of time out in nature and hiking whenever we could. Many of the skills they will need for the next two months are ones they have had to learn on their own, through practice and research over the last year. They have been gathering supplies and gear, weighing their packs with each addition, and testing things like tents, sleeping bags, hi-tech socks and underwear, pocket-size cook-stoves, and easy-to-prepare food.

Ready to Go
Everything a Body Needs (about 30 pounds of gear, food, and water)

That leaves three aboard Take Two: Jay, Tanya, and Rachel. She starts high school in the fall, and we have begun to plan new travels (on and off the boat) as a family of three. One of the benefits of a smaller crew is the ability to take off on an adventure without extensive planning and packing: fewer seats needed in a vehicle, less expensive air travel, smaller accommodations required, and fewer mouths to feed. Because we are still caring for our parents, we are reluctant to do long-distance sailing or months-long road trips that would make it hard to be here for an emergency. But that doesn’t mean we can’t find ways to get out into the wide world for short periods.

Jay has been watching YouTube off-road adventures and planning our next vehicle purchase. After he and Eli took Sarah’s Jeep into Fakahatchee Strand last year and got it muddy, he’s been obsessed. Having taken a long road trip out west in 2021, where we hiked through ten National Parks, we are itching for similar outdoor adventures.

Dirty Jeep

While I don’t care that much about modifying off-road vehicles or primitive camping, I do have a burning desire to see the rest of the National Parks, so our interests may dovetail nicely. I loved the camping trips we took when I was a kid–cooking on an open fire, sleeping in a tent, and taking long hikes–and I’m open to the idea of a new mode of travel and going places our sailboat can’t take us. Watching Sam and Eli get ready for this trip has probably inspired all of us in one way or another to keep pursuing life on the road less traveled. In the boys’ case, that road looked very wet and muddy last weekend. I can’t wait to hear the stories and see all the pictures.

Gator, Big Cypress National Preserve
Gator, Oasis Visitor Center, Big Cypress National Preserve

Hurricane Plan (updated October 2024)

Hurricane Ian 2
Jay and Rachel checking out storm conditions at the beginning of Hurricane Ian, Seven Mile Bridge, Marathon, FL, 2022

Update October 8, 2024:

We’ve added a couple of notches to our storm-belt since this blog post was originally published in 2020. We were visiting Naples and hunkered down during Hurricane Elsa in 2021, but the boat was in the Florida Keys and saw no storm conditions. Hurricane Ian passed by the Florida Keys in 2022, bringing wind and high water, but no damage. We were tucked up in a canal behind a tall building at a marina where boats survived Irma (2017). We lost dock power when the water rose above the sea wall, but that was about it. For our son Eli in Naples, it meant serious flooding which drowned his truck and the house he rents with his cousins. They were all homeless and staying with family for several months until the house could be renovated.

Hurricane Ian 3
Take Two at Skipjack Resort and Marina, Florida Keys, during Hurricane Ian, September 2022

We had a quiet year in 2023, but this year has been a busy hurricane season. We just weathered Hurricane Helene with tropical storm conditions at a marina in the Ten Thousand Islands area of Southwest Florida. We are eight miles inland, surrounded by a buffer-zone of mangroves, tied to a floating dock with tall pilings. Of course, we are at sea level surrounded by swamp, so we worry about losing our cars. Based on the conditions we saw during Helene two weeks ago and the forecasted storm surge for Hurricane Milton arriving tomorrow night, we parked our cars in a parking deck in Naples and had Eli and Aaron drop us off at the boat, leaving us stranded for a few days until the storm passes and the water goes down. The two boys (I should say “men”) are evacuating, moving their stuff from their rental, and going to stay with their grandfather, “Skipper” at his house, which has a whole-house generator and did not flood in Irma or Ian.

Take Two at Port of the Islands 2
Take Two on the dock, Ten Thousand Islands area of Southwest Florida, 2023-2024

As usual, we have multiple contingency plans, including anchoring in nearby mangroves if the path of the storm veers south or if conditions are stronger than currently predicted. As of today, we are outside the cone of uncertainty, forecasted to receive tropical storm force winds and a storm surge of max nine feet, which we can handle here at the dock on the boat. We are well-stocked, securely tied, and self-sufficient. Everyone is feeling a little skittish after seeing the damage from Helene, so people are taking Milton seriously and preparing as best they can. It is a record-breaking storm and could cause a lot of damage and loss of life, especially to the north of us. We’re doing our best, as always, to “hope for the best, plan for the worst,” and praying for everyone in the path of this hurricane.

Hurricane Plan
Take Two tied in the mangroves for Tropical Storm Eta, Florida Keys, 2020

Original post, November 2020:

We have prepared for and experienced several tropical storms in the twelve years we have owned Take Two, but never have we had to enact our hurricane plan, which involves “spiderwebbing” ourselves up inside a mangrove creek. That is, not until this week, when Tropical Storm Eta passed over the Florida Keys. Eta was the 29th tropical cyclone this year and passed this way after raking over Central America and flooding parts of Panama and Guatemala that we visited (2017-2019). News coming from friends in hard-hit areas is heartrending and puts our encounter with the storm in perspective. We are feeling very thankful that we received the less-intense part of the storm, and also that we were able to find a quiet, secure place to practice our better-safe-than-sorry plan.

Tied to Mangroves 1
Take Two tied in the mangroves for Hurricane Eta 2020

We have weathered several named storms on the boat; some of those stories are documented here on the blog. We have been fortunate not to have sustained any storm damage yet, both by luck and preparation, though we have lost plenty of sleep. We prepped for our first tropical storm, Fay, in 2008, mere months after we had purchased the boat.

Prep for Tropical Storm Fay, Bradenton, Florida, 2008
Take Two at Twin Dolphin Marina, first storm prep for Fay, 2008

We were anchored during Tropical Storm Debby in 2012, which lingered over the Tampa Bay area for five days and tested our recently-purchased Manson 80-pound anchor as well as our patience. Later that year, Superstorm Sandy passed by Ft. Pierce while we were tied to a dock there.

Anchored for Tropical Storm Debbie, Terra Ceia Bay, Florida, 2012
Take Two anchored in Terra Ceia Bay for Tropical Storm Debby, 2012

We experienced the beginning of Hurricane Matthew in 2016 while we were at a marina in Grenada, a storm for which we considered anchoring in a nearby mangrove bay, though we ultimately decided against it when we heard from locals that the holding was bad. It got a little too crowded for our liking, anyway. We were uncomfortable, but not unsafe during that storm. In fact, dealing with seasonal weather patterns is simply part of living on a boat—every year we make a plan for where we’ll be from June to November, and what we’ll do if a storm threatens.

Hurricane Matthew, Grenada, 2016
Mangrove hidey-hole near Calivigny Bay, Grenada during Hurricane Matthew, 2016

Our best strategy for storm prep is avoidance. We prefer to be outside the “hurricane box” drawn by insurance companies, in places like the Chesapeake, Grenada, Panama, and Guatemala. When we can’t avoid the hurricane zone, which is sometimes the case since Florida is our home base, we watch the forecasts carefully and try to find a “safe” place to be in August and September especially. With every storm that presents reasonable threat, we make a plan that shifts with each change in direction and intensity. If we can’t avoid a storm, we take measures to protect the boat and her crew during the bad weather. For anything more than a Tropical Storm (winds more than 74 mph), we would put the boat in a place where we can reduce the risk of damage and then evacuate for our safety and comfort.

We were in Panama during the last storm that devastated the Florida Keys, Irma in 2017. The memory is still fresh here, and locals take hurricane warnings very seriously. Those who stayed on their boats or in their houses for that storm tell harrowing stories. The mooring balls in Boot Key Harbor, a place we have now spent three hurricane seasons, are screw-type hurricane-grade moorings, but the biggest threat is the “pinball effect” when a boat in the nearby anchorage drags anchor or breaks loose from a mooring and damages others as it drifts. While we can take proper precautions for our own boat, we can’t be sure of the security of other vessels. This is what prompted us to spend August and September on a seawall up a protected canal, and why we tied up in the mangroves for Eta.

Bow Anchor
Anchored near Sister’s Creek, tied off to mangroves, Florida Keys, 2020

One of the good things about our life afloat is the ability to move, and the self-sufficiency our boat provides. Sometimes we can get out of the way of bad weather, and sometimes we can secure our boat in a safe place despite it. We can’t eliminate risk, but we can mitigate it. Because we make our own power, we don’t have to worry about electrical outages. Because we float, we don’t have to worry about flooding. In fact, the rain provides free water as it runs from our hard top straight into our tanks.

rain catching
Catching rain from Eta, 2020

We are feeling grateful a lot these days, for blessings large and small. At a time when there is so much bad news, we don’t take health, happiness, or protection from harm for granted. Seems like for every sigh of relief, there is also a sigh of sympathy: our thoughts and prayers are with those who have suffered so much this year.

Happy Anniversary!

The first week of August holds a lot of memories for us. Twenty seven years ago, on August 2nd, Jay and I got married in Naples, Florida. And here we are, unexpectedly back in our home town for hurricane season, putting down new roots in an old place. This photo was taken this past year at our nephew’s wedding. It was so fun to be with our big family celebrating this milestone–the first marriage in our kids’ generation.

Jay and Tanya at Toby's Wedding

Twenty years ago, we left the house on Angels Lane in Atlanta, Georgia and moved to Clearwater, Florida, enacting the first step in our five-year plan to buy and move aboard a sailboat and go on an adventure with our kids. We had three kids under three and everyone already thought we were crazy, so why not keep going?

Angels Lane House Exterior
Angels Lane House Interior

Fifteen years ago this week, we moved aboard S/V Take Two with four kids age eight and under, completing our five year plan on the dot. We had no idea what we were doing, but it was rewarding, so we kept doing it.

Crew of Take Two, 2008

One year ago, we celebrated our anniversary in the Dry Tortugas, on a buddy boat trip with Jay’s dad and our oldest son aboard as first mate on Lovely Cruise. Happy memories continue to be made on the water.

Take Two anchored at Fort Jefferson 2

I love celebrating these anniversaries because they show how far we’ve come, and how much we’ve learned since we left the house with the white picket fence. If I could time-travel and visit my younger self, I wouldn’t give away any spoilers, but I would tell her: Stop worrying so much. Everything turns out even better than you can imagine. I feel so grateful this August and want to encourage anyone reading this to never give up on their hopes and plans…the journey may be hard, but the destination is so worth it!

Take Two Cousins to the Bahamas

*Click on any photo to go to our Flickr account to see more pictures!

Four Teens Aboard 2
Crossing the Gulf Stream with Tessa and Teresa Aboard

Until recently, Take Two has been chock-a-block with our kids and their stuff. When Eli left home, Sam moved out of the cabin he shared with Aaron and took the recently-vacated space. When Aaron left a year later, Rachel moved out of her (tiny) single berth in the port hull and moved into Aaron’s bunk. Sarah left for the Coast Guard six months ago, and Sam just finished repairing, sanding, and painting our first empty cabin on Take Two. The paint was still curing when we took on our first visitors: two of my brother’s ten kids, Tessa (15) and Teresa (13), whom we had invited to join us on a month-long trip to the Bahamas. We thought it would be fun to have cousins as built-in buddies for our kids, and to give my nieces a new adventure.

Sarah's cabin ready for visitors
Sarah’s cabin, ready for guests (net to keep the cats out)

They packed their bags and joined our crew the third week of April. Eli and Aaron came over for a farewell dinner and we went over the chart and itinerary. We motored out of Port of the Islands marina and through the Ten Thousand Islands the afternoon of the 22nd on a high tide and spent the first day sailing in glorious wind and relatively calm seas. We discovered that Teresa is sensitive to motion, but Tessa is not. We anchored near Cape Sable the first night and motor-sailed around Everglades National Park the next day until we made it to Islamorada (middle-Keys).

Leaving Port of the Islands
Take Two leaving Port of the Islands

We went through the Snake Creek Bridge on the 24th to prepare for our quick haulout/insurance survey the next day in Key Largo. Haulout complete, we went back through the Snake Creek Bridge to hide from strong east wind for a few days on the bayside. We fueled up at Isla Marina, then anchored behind Upper Matecumbe Key, not far from the Lorelei Restaurant in Islamorada.

Floating island of fun
High-Pressure Air Floor, a.k.a. The Floating Island of Fun, Islamorada

We waited an unexpectedly long time—two weeks—for a good weather window to cross the Gulf Stream, time we spent acclimating to living off grid with new crew, making and budgeting power and water for four teenagers, figuring out a laundry schedule to wash and hang clothes for six, playing dominoes in the cockpit, celebrating Rachel’s 13th birthday, going for walks to local museums and shops, hanging out with old friends, and swimming off the back of the boat. A pod of dolphins came to visit nearly every day, and the strong breeze kept us cool and bug-free.

Rachel and Teresa Bass Pro Shop Islamorada
Teresa and Rachel (on her 13th birthday) at Bass Pro Shops in Islamorada next to Hemingway’s boat

Finally, we had a break in the weather, headed back under the Snake Creek Bridge (again!) and made our way east to the Abacos on May 9th. Our sail up the coast and across the Gulf Stream could not have been nicer. We had lovely weather and calm seas, a great beginning to the trip. Sam took a long watch at night and did a great job managing navigation, dodging big ships, and adjusting sails. After waiting so long and enduring unusually strong late-April wind and squalls, we were so happy to be on our way at last!

Take Two Sailing, Gulfstream
Beautiful Gulf Stream Crossing

We checked into West End on May 10th and headed across the Banks. What follows is a log of our travels that Teresa helped put together, and a short essay by Tessa detailing her thoughts about living aboard Take Two for six weeks. Jay and I consider the trip a huge success and can’t wait to “take two” with us again on another adventure!

Four Teens Aboard
Four teenagers aboard

Ship’s Log, by Teresa

May 10, Little Bahama Bank. We arrived in the Bahamas and checked in at West End. That night we anchored at Mangrove Cay on Little Bahama Bank. That night we saw the Northern Lights.

Auroras on the Banks
Northern Lights, photo by Sam

May 11, Allans-Pensacola Cay. We sailed in the morning toward the Abacos and anchored at Allans-Pensacola. We came ashore by dinghy and explored the island, walking on a trail to the other side.

May 12, Manjack Cay. We sailed to Manjack (a.k.a. Nunjack) Cay and went to the beach, then explored for a bit. We gathered wood for a beach fire, went back to Take Two to make dinner and get S’mores supplies, and then came back for the evening. We saw a SpaceX rocket launch while sitting around our beach fire.

Manjack Cay 1
“Swimming pool” at Manjack Cay

May 13, Manjack Cay. We did school in the morning and went to the beach again in the afternoon and walked to the other side of the island. Aunt Tanya saw a lemon shark.

May 14, Manjack Cay. Rainy Day. Watched movies, baked cookies.

Free Showers
Free Showers

May 15, Great Guana Cay. We motor-sailed around the Whale (Whale Cay) in calm seas and anchored at Guana Cay. That evening, some inexperienced sailors were anchored near us when a squall passed. Their anchor started to drag and they almost hit us, but we got the fenders out in time. (They re-anchored farther away.)  

May 16, Great Guana Cay. Thunderstorms all day. We cleaned the boat in the afternoon.

Blowing 30kts
Squall with 30 knots of wind, anchor holding!

May 17, Fowl Cay and Man O’War Cay. We snorkeled in calm, clear water on the reef at Fowl Cays and then motored to Man O’War to anchor for the night.

Snorkeling Fowl Cay
Swimming, Fowl Cays

May 18, Man O’War Cay and Elbow Cay. We went ashore in the morning to walk around and find groceries. We stopped at a gift shop and a coffee shop. We motored to Elbow Cay (outside Hope Town) and Tessa made buns for burger night.

Man O War Coffee Shop
Coffee shop and Museum, Man O’War Cay

May 19, Elbow Cay. We snorkeled on Elbow Cay Reef and then did laundry, played games, and swam in the afternoon.

May 20, Elbow Cay. We went to the Elbow Reef Lighthouse with another boat family (aboard S/V Seahawk). We got ice cream at Skoops afterwards. We went to the town beach in the afternoon.

Elbow Reef Light, Hope Town
Historic Elbow Cay Light, the only functioning manually-wound kerosene lighthouse left in the world

May 21, Elbow Cay.  We rented bikes and went for a ride around the island. We stopped for brunch at Oasis café and made it all the way to the other end of Elbow Cay. We came back and had rainbow sherbet at Skoops. We went for a swim at the beach before heading back to the boat. That night, Ted and Gail from S/V Viento Azul and their crew, Jim, Andy and Sadie and their daughter Claire, came over for Taco Tuesday on Take Two. We went for a swim in the full moonlight.

Hope Town Beach
Perfect Beach Day, Hope Town

May 22, Elbow Cay. We did school in the morning, and then met another boat family, the Duncans aboard S/V Another Summer, in the afternoon. We went swimming with their three teenagers and played on the floating island of fun and then went to happy hour at Hope Town Inn and Marina for chicken wings and corn hole. Later that night, the Duncans came over for games on Take Two and we watched another rocket launch.

May 23, Elbow Cay. We went to Tahiti Beach, which was a bit disappointing because the water was too warm and there wasn’t much to do. Tanya met up with her old friends Steve and Laura Gallagher then took a long walk on the other side of the island to look for sea glass. The Duncans came to hang out after dinner, and all the kids took the dinghy ashore to watch the rocket launch from the ocean side of the island (to see the booster land).

Tahiti Beach 2
Tahiti Beach

May 24, Sandy Cay. We left Tahiti beach and motored to Sandy Cay, where we snorkeled in crystal clear water at the Land and Sea Park. We swam with a sea turtle and Tessa saw a shark. We anchored at Lynyard Cay that afternoon.

Bahama Water 1
Amazing water clarity on the way to Sandy Cay

May 25, Little Harbor and Lynyard Cay. We anchored in the Bight of Old Robinson and the kids took two kayaks to look for blue holes. Afterward, we went to Pete’s Pub for lunch and then went to the beach. We anchored at Lynyard Cay in the afternoon and swam and played on the floating island of fun.

Pete's Pub 1
Pete’s Pub, Little Harbor, Abaco
Pete's Pub 2
Uncle Jay and Aunt Tanya at Pete’s Pub

May 26, Northeast Providence Channel. We left Little Harbor at dawn and motored nine hours upwind in choppy seas, with squalls, toward Spanish Wells (bashy and uncomfortable for most of it). We anchored for the night at Meeks Patch.

May 27, Spanish Wells. We rented a golf cart and drove around town, bought souvenirs, and got groceries for the trip home. We returned to the boat in the afternoon and moved to Egg Island to anchor for the night. We went for a sunset snorkel on Egg Reef and saw a little shark.

Spanish Wells Golf Cart Rental
Tanya and teenagers cruising the streets of Spanish Wells

May 28, Tongue of the Ocean. We motored across the tongue of the Ocean and stopped the boat for a swim in 6000 ft. I (Teresa) burned my hand while making ramen and missed the swim! We anchored at Chub Cay for the night.

May 29, Great Bahama Bank. We motored all day across the banks and put the engines in neutral so we could go for a drift-swim when we got hot. We had two “pet” remoras with us. We played dominoes in the afternoon and crossed the Gulf Stream overnight.

Swimming on the Bahama Bank

May 30, Gulf Stream, Florida Keys. We crossed to Florida without incident and arrived in the Keys mid-morning. We snorkeled at Hen and Chickens Reef near Plantation Cay and then went under Snake Creek Bridge for the last time. We motored around Everglades National Park. There was an afternoon thunderstorm and a lot of wind. After the storm, we put up the sails and sailed all night.

Glassy Sea Florida Keys
Florida Keys, glassy water

May 31, Everglades National Park, Ten Thousand Islands, and home to Port of the Islands Marina. We anchored in the Ten Thousand Islands around 3:30 in the morning. We woke up mid-morning and motored into the channel at high tide.  We cleaned the boat while Aunt Tanya went to get subs for lunch. We talked about the trip and then Mom came to pick us up to go home.

Crew on Deck Port of the Islands
Crew of Take Two back in SW Florida for hurricane season

Boat Life from an Outside Perspective by Tessa

Homeward Bound
Sailing on Take Two in the Bahamas, May 2024

Going to live on a sailboat for a month and a half with my aunt’s family was not on my 2024 BINGO card. My Aunt Tanya brought up the idea on March 7th and by March 12th I had applied for my passport, though that didn’t mean confirmation I was going yet. A couple of days after getting our passports, our parents had okayed the idea. At that point I wasn’t so sure I was ready to leave. I was on the fence, leaning toward the “I’m not going” side. Leaving home and friends for four to six weeks was very daunting. I tend to get homesick and being in another country without girls my own age was not ideal in my book. The 14th of April rolled around and Tanya texted that we would probably be leaving the 17th. It felt too soon and I didn’t feel ready to go, but then the departure date was delayed to the 21st and I was more inclined to go. Finally, the day before, I decided it was a “yes.” I had seen my friends and felt better about the decision. We packed up and left for the boat on the 21st and sailed for the Florida Keys the next morning. We ended up being stuck in the Keys for two weeks because of weather. By the end of the first week, I was giving up hope that we would even make it to the Bahamas. By week two, we saw wind and weather clearing up and on May 9th, we left to cross the Gulf Stream to the Bahamas.

Off into the Wild Blue Yonder
Out of sight of land

Sailing wasn’t as scary as I thought it would be; I didn’t get sick, and I got my “sea legs” easily. I didn’t really have to adjust to living on the boat—it felt like normal living, but just with a different family. (That might be because our two families are so similar.) Part of living on the boat is being careful with water usage and trash sorting, I felt like I got used to it very quickly and it didn’t feel like a hardship. The wonderful part about being in the Bahamas is you live in an endless swimming pool—the water is so beautiful I can’t even describe it, so clear you can see the ripples in the sandy bottom at a depth of 35 feet. Snorkeling was definitely my favorite: diving down 30 feet to see huge coral structures and dozens of different kinds of fish is one of the most jaw-dropping experiences I’ve ever had. Being on the boat means you get to go to islands not a single other person is inhabiting and seeing scenery you would not otherwise see. One of my favorite parts about the towns in the Bahamas is they’re all walkable or bikeable and we had so many amazing experiences walking around town meeting new people and trying out new things, something I wouldn’t trade for anything. Being in Hope Town felt like the most “normal” part of the trip—going into town, buying groceries, riding bikes, doing regular daily activities, and meeting other people who lived similar lives (living on a boat after having lived on land). We left the Bahamas on May 28th and got back Friday the 31st.

First Glimpse Bahama Blue
First glimpse of “God’s swimming pool”

The pros of being on the boat were having a different and unique experience, learning to adapt to a different environment, being in beautiful places out in the wild, and traveling and meeting new people. The cons were being isolated, living without air-conditioning, experiencing discomfort, having to limit water usage, living in very close quarters and sometimes feeling trapped, understanding that weather determines EVERYTHING, and having to improvise when far from civilization. On a scale of 1-10, I would give boat life a 10 for adventure, but a 7 for comfort. I highly recommend the experience, but if I had to live aboard long-term, I would need to be more comfortable. What I appreciate about my land life is not having to be as careful with water, being with my family, and being able to see my friends without being an ocean apart. Would I go again? The answer is yes, but would I live this way permanently? Probably not. Though I had an amazing time and a good experience on the boat, I don’t think I would do it as a lifestyle. Living on land is easier and suits my preferences. I think I would like to go sailing with my aunt and uncle again if they were going to a different country to get a new experience.

Girl Cousins
Cousins aboard Take Two, L-R: Tessa, Teresa, and Rachel

First Mate

April 23, 2024. Current situation: I am holding a pot over a flame, staring out my galley window at the unfurled jib, whose telltales flutter in the wind as we sail east across the Bay of Florida toward the Keys.

Pot holder
Pot holder, Bay of Florida

The port bow is crashing into little waves and spraying the deck with a salty mist, and every now and then, a large wave gives us a disorienting shove sideways—thus, the pot-holding. My husband, a.k.a. Pirate Captain Dad, is cranking at the main and jib periodically to squeeze out an extra fraction of a knot of boat speed, crossing the cockpit to adjust sails, look at the chart, and change course as necessary. Right up until I suggested making egg salad sandwiches for the hungry crew, I was out on deck in the glorious wind and sun, coiling dock lines that we had untied yesterday and left out to dry while we did the work of getting underway. I also tidied the previous day’s rat’s nest of main halyard and Code Zero halyard, sheet, and furling line, separating and flaking each of them so they could run fair if the need were to arise. I also checked to make sure the anchor bridles were clipped to the trampolines so they wouldn’t get dragged under the boat. Then I put away the dishes in the drying rack and finished the breakfast tidy-up, poured my daughter and her cousin a ginger-ale over ice to enjoy in the cockpit while they do their nails and listen to audiobooks, and here I am: holding this pot and confirming the truth of the adage, “a watched pot never boils.”

Captain Jay
Pirate Captain Dad at the helm

Maybe some women would resent this arrangement. I see blogs and social media posts about husbands and wives who call themselves co-captains, or single women sailors who feel angry when dock mates ask them, “Where is the captain?”  On our boat, I cook and clean and tidy lines while my husband solves problems like taking apart the giant Harken winch because it wouldn’t hold a line yesterday without slipping. He hoisted the main this morning while I made tea. I was checking on the cats (to make sure they weren’t getting seasick in someone’s bed) when he unfurled the jib and wrapped the sheet on the now-working winch (which I watched him oil and reassemble so I can help with the other one). If I felt that this division of labor was somehow unjust or that I was missing out on some important part of our adventure, my perception might be colored by bitterness, but today I just felt thankful. I love my job: making people (and cats!) more comfortable on passages, thinking about safety and preventing disaster, keeping things orderly, and planning menus, routes, shoreside excursions, and homeschool lessons.

Homemade bread
Homemade bread

I suffer from occasional imposter syndrome. I am introduced on podcasts as a brave live-aboard sailor who boldly went over the edge of the horizon with my homeschooled kids in tow and lived to tell the tale in an award-winning book, all of which is technically true. But I am the first one to say that I am also a big chicken, closer to a trad-wife than a feminist, happiest on the days when I sit on the edge of the cockpit like “deck fluff” while we sail across sparkling seas. I would not be doing this without Jay, who grew up sailing, nor would I feel comfortable taking our boat out without him, though I do take watches at all hours. I consult him about almost every sailing or navigational decision I make. I feel silly saying I’m a sailor, even though I have been sailing for twenty years, and living aboard Take Two for fifteen. I have taken sailing classes, navigation classes (including celestial), safety-at-sea classes, and first aid classes, and read dozens of books (many by my sailing heroes Lin and Larry Pardy). I have experience in coastal cruising, offshore passages, rough weather, night sailing, crossing busy shipping channels, and piloting in uncharted waters. But I haven’t spent a lot of time on small boats, certainly not by myself, and I tend to think of myself more as a liveaboard boat-school mom than a sailor.

Tanya on Blue Bear 2006
Tanya at the helm of Blue Bear in 2004

When I explained to Jay how I felt about the boat, he pointed out that he has never taken it out without me, either. Yesterday, when he furled the Code Zero in the dark after we had to jibe the boat toward our destination, he had to rest from the physical and emotional exertion. We had a terrible time with that sail once on the way to Bonaire, and I’m sure he was having flashbacks. Everything was fine, but he just needed a moment to relax. While he was doing his thing, I went out on deck and re-rigged the line in case he wanted to use it again on the other side of the boat. I checked the lines for the jib to make sure they would run fair if he preferred to use that sail. When we got close to the spot where we would anchor for the night, I went forward and got our bridles rigged, checked the anchor and windlass, and got ready to drop the hook. While Jay turned upwind and lowered the mainsail, I paid out anchor chain and tied the bridles. We operated like a well-oiled machine. We have been sailing together for so long we don’t even need to communicate verbally. And this is where our strength lies—not in our ability to do the same jobs, or to do them independently, but to complement each other perfectly.

In some areas, we overlap. We both take watches at night. We both do sail changes, though often I take the helm while he raises or lowers the main because it is a hard job and he’s physically stronger than I am. We both clean things, though in different areas of the boat. We both sew things when necessary. In other areas, we operate completely separately, filling in gaps where the other lacks the skills or interest. He fixes anything having to do with electricity, plumbing, or engines. I fix anything having to do with food and drink. He works more than full-time running a business and providing for our family, and I run a household, homeschool kids, feed everyone, make sure we have clean laundry, and keep things tidy. This team approach, while old-fashioned, really makes sense to us. We can get so much done when we are both doing our jobs well. We can’t figure out why so many in our culture seem to be fighting for the same pair of pants: men and women are inherently different, have different skill sets and strengths and weaknesses. I’m not saying a different division of labor or reversal of traditional masculine or feminine roles can’t work, only that there are some underlying design features that hint at our differing capabilities.

Truth be told, I am very happy to be “First Mate” and not “Co-Captain,” but I feel like I have to apologize or explain why I’m happy to “settle” for this role. My generation was raised by liberated women; we were taught to think that we were like Ginger Rogers, a woman who could do everything Fred Astaire could do, only backwards and in high heels. I have a good education, I was a paid professional on a good career path, I had so much potential. And then I gave it all up to be a stay-at-home mom, to homeschool my kids, to play “second fiddle” to my hard-working husband. I have come to see that this is not the right perspective of “women’s work.” I chose to stay at home because I felt that institutions could not do as good a job as I could raising my kids. I chose to support Jay at home so he could support our family at work. I chose to go on an adventure with a person who grew up sailing, and I have tried to take an active role in all things boat-life, though it doesn’t always come naturally to me. I’ve been able to use my knack for writing to document it all and even publish a book. I don’t just like the balance we have in our partnership—I love it—and wouldn’t have it any other way.     

winch
Well-oiled machine?

Everglades Adventures

Alligator Port of the Islands
Regular visitor to our dock at Port of the Islands

We arrived at Port of the Islands last August, after a trip to the Dry Tortugas and a quick haulout in Key Largo, to get a change of scenery, find a safe place to wait out hurricane season, and be near family in Naples for some important events (graduations, weddings, birthdays).

Take Two at Port of the Islands 2
Take Two at Port of the Islands

That was seven months ago. Much has changed, and what started out as a temporary stay has started to feel semi-permanent. I took over management of much of my mom’s medical care, giving my brother and sister-in-law a much-needed break. She’s had three hospital stays since Christmas, and I’m glad I was only thirty minutes away. Jay’s dad has also been in the hospital and continues to have medical issues that make us feel like we need to be nearby—both to be helpful and to spend time with him.

St. Patty's Day at Skipper's
Family Dinner, St. Patty’s Day

My dad and his wife also live in town, and Jay’s mom and stepdad are only a few hours away, so this is a very convenient location. In addition, it gave Sarah a stable place from which to launch—she joined the Coast Guard in December and shipped out of Miami, only an hour and a half away. She’s now serving at her first station in Shinnecock, NY. We were able to go as a family to New Jersey to see her graduate and spend a day in Philadelphia sightseeing before flying home. Aaron got a job at Mercedes-Benz and moved back to Naples at the end of February and is sharing a rental with Eli and one of their cousins. I never expected to be here so long, but I’ve been grateful for the family time. When we’re not out seeking adventure, we take the adventures that come to us!

Sarah, graduation USCG basic training
Sarah’s Graduation from USCG Basic Training, Cape May, NJ

We have used the opportunity to do an in-depth, interdisciplinary, homeschool unit on the Florida Everglades*, getting outdoors as much as the weather (and the bugs!) allow. My brother and his wife, who live about thirty minutes from our marina, have ten kids, ranging in age from five to twenty-three (all of whom are/were homeschooled; the oldest graduates from college this spring). My sister-and-law and I tried to plan one field trip every week and it’s been fun to go exploring as a group.

Everglades National Park Shark Valley Tower View
Moms and Kids at the Shark Valley Observation Tower, Everglades National Park

My favorite field trip so far was the wet walk at the Swamp Celebration at Clyde Butcher’s Big Cypress Gallery. Our introduction to Big Cypress National Preserve was at the Nathaniel P. Reed Visitor’s Center, about fifteen minutes east of Port of the Islands, where we saw a video about the ecology of the cypress swamp. In the video, a group of school students is on a tour with a biologist, wading through chest deep water. My six-year-old nephew was sitting next to me in the dark, and whispered, “I want to do that!” I became determined to figure out how to make that dream a reality.

Big Cypress National Preserve 3
Big Cypress National Preserve, Loop Road

While visiting the Clyde Butcher gallery on another field trip, I asked how we could get out into the swamp, and they helped me make a reservation for their event in October. It was a perfect Florida fall day—the weather was warm, the water cool, and the sky a cloudless blue. We packed a picnic and headed east on 41. We received the VIP treatment, and our group (me with Rachel and Sam and my brother and his wife with five of their kids) spent an hour and a half hiking through the Cypress swamp ecosystem in surprisingly clear water, learning about flora and fauna from a very knowledgeable and engaging naturalist. On the way home, we stopped at the Kirby Storter boardwalk and got to see a mama alligator and a dozen babies. I hope it was as unforgettable for the kids as it was for me.

Swamp Walk at Clyde Butcher Big Cypress 2
Swamp Celebration, Wet Walk at Clyde Butcher Big Cypress Gallery

The first week of April marks sixteen years since we bought Take Two. As long-term liveaboard sailors, there have been times we felt a little “stuck,” like when we had a newborn, or when we were doing major repairs, or when the weather just didn’t cooperate with our travel plans. For the last few years, we’ve had teenagers who needed some stability, a boat that needed a lot of work, and aging parents who needed help and companionship. Taking the long view, we know that we will eventually travel again, but we may have to settle for short sailing trips or land-based adventures until we’re in a different season of life. When we can’t control the circumstances, we can control our response to them, and make the most of the place we find ourselves.

Dirty Jeep
Jay and Eli getting Sarah’s Jeep muddy in the Picayune Strand State Forest

*Here’s a list of the field trips:

1. Ten Thousand Islands–Port of the Islands (boat tours, kayaking, manatees, alligators), Marsh Trail (wading birds, birds of prey), Collier-Seminole Sate Park (historic walking dredge display and hiking trails), Rookery Bay Environmental Learning Center, Marco Island Historical Museum

2. Everglades City—Museum of the Everglades (history of the area), Smallwood Store in Chokoloskee (historic general store), Earnest Hamilton Observation Tower

3. Everglades National Park—Shark Valley Tram Ride/Bicycle Trail and Observation Tower

4. Big Cypress National Preserve—Clyde Butcher’s Big Cypress Gallery, Nathaniel P. Reed Visitor’s Center, Ochopee Post Office (smallest post office), Loop Road, Skunk Ape Headquarters, Kirby Storter Roadside Park (boardwalk)

5. Immokalee—Immokalee Pioneer Museum at Robert’s Ranch, Corkscrew Swamp Sanctuary

Rearview Mirror

“Go confidently in the direction of your dreams! Live the life you’ve imagined.” –Henry David Thoreau 

Road Trip Self Portrait
Road-trip Self-portrait, 2018

In the process of doing my annual clean-out and goal-setting, I found a half-filled journal from 2007. It is rare that I would leave blank pages in a journal—I fill at least one each year—but this one was large, and since we moved aboard during its short lifetime, it got placed on the only shelf it fit on, then forgotten in the whirlwind of cleaning and fixing and learning to sail with four small children. I’ve moved it to clean the shelf several times, but it always got put back, “out of sight, out of mind.” Like the wooden box that holds my unused sextant, it hasn’t been opened in years. When I finally blew the dust off and looked inside, I found a time capsule from my life before Take Two. These are the words I read (edited for brevity):

“November 4, 2007

It’s been a year since Katie Rose sailed away, and I’m still whining about it. I hate regret. It is one of my greatest fears that I will die with regret, not having lived the life I desired to live, not having lived fully, but merely “existed.”

The morning of the St. Pete boat show last November, I stood in the shower and cried. Whatever excuses we used for not risking it all and buying that boat, I know in my heart that it was our destiny and we—at least the “I” part of “we”—chickened out. But thank God for his grace! So many times when I have screwed up, he’s given me a second chance, a replay, another opportunity to get it right. Will he do the same this time? What if our literal ship never comes in?

In any case, as I tell myself again and again, even if we never set sail, our lives will have been better for having dreamt and attempted to make the dream happen. We have made progress: our vision for our boat and our journey has crystallized. We know more and more clearly what we want in a boat, so we will recognize her when we meet her. We’ve realized that family size isn’t really the limiting factor; when Sam came along, it changed nothing, and that was a huge relief. We have changed our diet and lifestyle drastically so that a transition to living aboard as a family will be easier. We continue to simplify.

I am asking new questions: what are the next steps? Are there sacrifices we could be making, but aren’t? What in our characters needs to be refined so we will be ready? How are we to live in the waiting time—so that we are neither regretting the past nor pining for the future, but simply enjoying the part of life we’re in now? What does it mean to be content but also to never give up dreaming?

For now, while we wait for who-knows-what, we’ll continue to get an education in all things dream-sustaining, reading up on survival-at-sea, weather patterns, diesel engine repair, food preservation and storage, homeschooling, world cruising routes, and sailing adventure stories to inspire us.

Our sense of urgency is mounting, so it is a struggle to remain patient. I want to go before it is “too late.” The fear of financial downturns, destruction of wilderness, political instability at home or in other countries, the rapid growth of our children, and the unstoppable clock and approach of middle age—these are the things that drive us onward and say, “Go! Go now! Sell everything you don’t need, throw off all encumbrances, and go! Be free!”

Perhaps that’s where this begins and ends: I want to go to be more free. But, in a sense, I must be free in order to go. Free of fear—of what other people think, of discomfort, of feeling out of control, of failure. For me, that kind of freedom comes from knowing and loving God, and being loved and accepted by him, and in a sense, made invincible by his love. While we wait, we must become good at praying—asking, seeking, and knocking—until heaven answers with peace, love, joy, and divine freedom. Let me be completely free, Lord, from fear that holds me back, from the pits I dig for myself and fall into, from fretting over the past, complaining about the present, or worrying about the future. I want to be free to enjoy my life so that I will be content no matter what happens, whether we stay or go, and that I will rest easy in the life I’m in now while I wait and work for whatever comes next.

Katie Rose the boat we almost bought
The one that got away

A mere month after I wrote that entry, we drove to Fort Lauderdale to look at a 48’ custom wooden catamaran called Take Two, a boat aptly named, as it was to be our second chance at success. That was sixteen years ago, and these thoughts, now in the rearview mirror, still resonate. I still want to live in contentment now while pursuing dreams for the future. I still want to live free from fear, full of joy and hope. I still want to learn and grow and try new things. I still ask big questions and pray big prayers.

But one thing has changed: I no longer fear death-bed regrets. I have gone confidently in the direction of my dreams; I have lived the life I imagined. We not only raised our kids aboard and traveled adventurously, but we even told our story and inspired others to boldly go. And we’re not done yet! There are new dreams, new goals, and new fears to be conquered. What I have learned since I wrote this journal entry is that the remedy for regret is living with intention, moving forward even if it’s just baby-steps, course-correcting when you get off-track, and offering yourself grace when you fail, and, most importantly, never giving up. Even if you never reach your original destination (we had once dreamed of circumnavigating), you will look back at the journey with satisfaction and know that every effort was worthwhile.

My new year’s resolutions this year look a little different. Rather than making a vision board, or creating a Happiness Project (a la Gretchen Rubin), both of which have helped me achieve goals in the past, this year I wrote down the things I want most out of life, the whys behind my goal-setting. I am assessing whether my daily activities line up with what I say I want—for example, if I say I want to keep writing and finish the books I’ve started, am I using my time wisely or wasting it? If I say I want to be healthy (mind-body-spirit), am I eating the way I should? Exercising regularly? Taking the time to fill my cup so I can give out of the overflow? If I want to love well, am I spending my time and energy serving others? If I want to leave a legacy, am I living now so that I will look back with satisfaction? If I want to live adventurously, am I choosing the safe path, or continuing to challenge myself? Like Paul urged in his letter to the church in Ephesus, ultimately, I want to “live a life worthy of the calling I have received” (Ephesians 4:1). Since none of us knows our departure date, I want to live every day as if it were my last, a day without regret.

Family on Blue Bear
Our family of six aboard Blue Bear (a Ranger 22) in 2007, the year we found Take Two

Graduate-Level Gratitude

“Rather than life being hills and valleys, I believe that it’s kind of like two rails on a railroad track, and at all times you have something good and something bad in your life. No matter how good things are in your life, there is always something bad that needs to be worked on. And no matter how bad things are in your life, there is always something good you can thank God for.” —Rick Warren

Thanksgiving Centerpiece
Thanksgiving centerpiece aboard Take Two

I have written several Thanksgiving posts for this blog over the years but this November I want to explore a whole new level of gratitude because I have noticed a seasonal shift in my life; we have entered a time of “goodbyes” as we send our kids out into the world, grieve the loss of one of our parents (Jay’s stepmom Mary last fall), and see the inevitable decline that aging brings. While I am grateful for all our travels and the memories we’ve made, I am also seeing the blessing in our return, in re-engaging in a community onshore, and in weathering the losses that this stage of life invariably brings with it.

I heard a sermon on gratitude many years ago that I have never forgotten (Randy Pope preaching at Perimeter Church in Atlanta). He talked about the three levels of gratitude: basic, when you are thankful for the obvious blessings in your life; next-level, when you find ways to be grateful in the middle of difficult circumstances (the “silver linings” to big, dark clouds); and graduate-level, when you are thankful for the hard things, not just despite them. This kind of thanksgiving is only possible if you let go of your preconceived notions of “good” and “bad” and trust God to decide what’s “best” in the long-term, then thank Him for it, even if it hurts in the moment. Think of the pleasant things in life that seem “good” at the time, but have negative consequences, and all the “bad” or difficult things that later have happy outcomes. My trust in an omniscient and omnipresent God, outside of time and above circumstance, allows me to let go of expectations, be grateful in the moment, and find hope in the middle of hardship.

An extreme example of this kind of gratitude can be found in Corrie Ten Boom’s book, The Hiding Place, in which she documents her family’s experiences in the Netherlands during WWII. After the Nazis invaded her country, her family hid Jews in a secret room in their home and helped smuggle them to safety. After the family was caught, all the members were sent to concentration camps to suffer alongside the people they were trying to save (only Corrie survived). She and her sister Betsie were sent to several camps but ended up at Ravensbrück, where the living quarters were infested with fleas and lice. Her sister insisted that they thank God for their new residence, and though Corrie balked at the idea at first, she reluctantly prayed with her sister. They held illicit Bible studies and worship services using a smuggled Bible wherever they went, offering comfort and encouragement in dark and difficult places, and because their new barracks were pest-infested, the guards would not come in to stop them, allowing Corrie to see they were blessed because of the unpleasant circumstances.

Counting my own blessings, I am so grateful for our health, our family, and our relative comfort in a world full of conflict, pain, and suffering. I feel especially thankful that we were able to take the buddy-boat sailing trip in August, with Jay’s dad and Eli meeting us in the Dry Tortugas on Lovely Cruise; we made happy memories that are worth more than any “thing” I can think of.

Crew of Lovely Cruise
“Skipper,” Eli, and Bailey aboard Lovely Cruise

I feel grateful that we found a spot at a good marina, made new friends, and were able to be close to family for the last few months (not to mention making it through another hurricane season without incident.) I’m thankful we got to be present for Aaron’s graduation from Universal Technical Institute, my nephew Toby’s wedding, Sam’s driving test for his license, Eli’s first successful Jiu Jitsu competition, Sarah’s swearing-in at the Coast Guard, Jay’s dad’s 75th birthday party, and all the fun homeschool field trips in the Everglades with Rachel and her cousins (my brother’s family).

Aaron's Graduation 2
Aaron graduating with flying colors (Automotive Technology and Ford FACT program, heading to Mercedes Benz)

But there have been some hard things this year, too. While we were on our sailing trip in August, our close friends in the Keys, the Segards, lost their thirteen-year-old son Ben in a freediving accident. Our kids grew up with Ben and his sisters, and his loss has impacted everyone in our family and in our tight-knit homeschool community. Despite our hectic schedule (including sailing back from the Dry Tortugas, hauling out and painting the bottom of Take Two in Key Largo, relocating our family and vehicles, and moving Take Two to a new marina in southwest Florida) we were able to make it back to Marathon for Ben’s celebration of life. It was so good to be with all our friends at this tough time—a shared grief is more easily borne. There was so much love and gratitude for Ben’s life that I felt a deep joy alongside the sadness. The blessings of these friendships, for which I have always felt grateful, are even more evident when things get hard. We have a “home” in the Keys, even though we have a transient lifestyle, something I do not take for granted. 

Driftwood castle 2015
Homeschool friends in the Keys, 2015 (Ben Segard in the middle in red shirt/white cap)

And while I have always been a person who appreciates “silver linings,” this past year has taught me graduate-level gratitude as well. I never thought I would say that I was thankful for a hurricane, or a death, but this time last year, I was grateful for both. My son Eli was made homeless by Hurricane Ian just weeks before the passing of Mary at hospice after unsuccessful treatment for pancreatic cancer. This confluence of events led to my father-in-law asking Eli to come live with him for a few months while Eli’s rental was being repaired. Not only was my son shown love in a practical way, but his “Skipper” was not alone during the first few months after the loss of his wife. Of course, I didn’t want Mary to die—and I miss her terribly—but witnessing her dying at peace with her Maker, surrounded by loving family and friends, and without further suffering, made me thankful in a whole new way. I don’t always understand the “whys” of life’s absurdities, but I have definitely experienced the “who” in a difficult time. The twenty-third Psalm says that God is a good shepherd who walks with us whether we are in green pastures beside still waters or in the valley of the shadow of death, and I now have a tangible sense of that presence.

Mary's Roses
Life goes on: Mary’s roses are still blooming

The joy and gratitude I felt at that time has stayed with me ever since; every breath now seems like a miracle, and I have a new appreciation for life in all its highs and lows, which seem to run concurrently. We have just canceled our traditional Thanksgiving buddy-boat cruise to Cayo Costa State Park because Jay’s dad is now experiencing some serious health problems, but I know there is a Bigger Plan than mine. I feel thankful that he’s getting the care he needs, that Jay’s brother’s family will be here next week, and that we have a place for the family to gather for a holiday before Sarah leaves home in a few weeks. I feel grateful that a slip opened up at our marina so that we can keep the boat nearby a little longer, especially so we can spend time with our parents, all of whom have challenges at this stage of life. I’m still hoping we can go sailing this winter with Sam and Rachel, but I have learned that surrendering what I want allows me to receive unexpected gifts, that suffering puts everything into perspective, and that love’s light shines brighter in the dark. Whether you find yourself on a mountain, in a valley, or along the railroad tracks of life, the crew of Take Two wishes you a Happy Thanksgiving!

Family at cousin's wedding
Family all together at cousin’s wedding

The Prison Cell of Dr. Mudd

Take Two and Lovely Cruise (with Eli and Skipper aboard) spent a week at Dry Tortugas National Park, anchored near Fort Jefferson, a Civil War-Era Brick fort about 70 miles west of Key West. It was used as a prison, and this is an essay about its most famous prisoner.

Fort Jefferson 1
Eli, Sam, Rachel, and Sarah at Fort Jefferson, Dry Tortugas NP


On April 14, 1865, during a play at Ford’s Theatre, John Wilkes Booth shot President Lincon in the head. Did anyone conspire with Booth in the assassination plot? Perhaps we will never know for sure, but he certainly had help afterward. After firing his gun, Booth jumped off the balcony and broke his leg. He got away and ran to the house of Dr. Samuel A. Mudd, who set his leg and let him rest. Booth snuck away in the early hours of the morning with his friend David Herald but when federal agents searched for Booth at Mudd’s house, he said he did not know who or where Booth was, though it has been established that the two men knew each other from previous meetings. When they found Booth and Herald in a barn at Garret’s farm, Herald surrendered but Booth resisted arrest, so they set fire to the barn and later shot Booth, killing him and destroying any chance of finding out his secrets.

Back in Washington D.C., eight conspirators, people who knew Booth or had helped him in some way, were questioned and tried in a military court. They were all found guilty and four were hanged, including the first woman ever to be executed in the United States. Four were sent to prison and one escaped. Dr. Mudd was given a life sentence to be carried out at Fort Jefferson on Garden Key in the Dry Tortugas. Mudd ended up only serving four years because he was pardoned by President Andrew Johnson in 1869, after heroically treating patients during a severe yellow fever outbreak at the fort. When visiting Dry Tortugas National Park, you can still see the cell of Samuel A. Mudd, the famous doctor who set the leg of the man who killed the 16th president of the United States of America.

Dr. Mudd's Cell
Rachel, standing in Dr. Mudd’s prison cell
Dr. Mudd's Cell 2
More information about Dr. Mudd
Fort Jefferson 3
View of the fort from the top of the walls
Fort Jefferson 2
View from inside the fort
Moat Fort Jefferson
View of the moat, Fort Jefferson
Take Two anchored at Fort Jefferson 2
Take Two at Fort Jefferson
Lovely Cruise and Sea Plane
Lovely Cruise anchored near where the sea planes take off and land