Lessons from Adversity, Part I

I got stranded in the dinghy (again), but this time I was not able to help myself, and the stupid motor bit me. That would be code for “electric shock.” I don’t take it too personally, though, because it bit Jay, too, when he tried later to figure out what was wrong. I also had trouble with the tilt and trim, which malfunctioned and prevented me from getting the propeller far enough in the water to get forward propulsion. Add that to the fact that I was in the middle of helping a friend, who couldn’t get her motor started. I would have at least towed her back to her boat except I couldn’t help myself! We were sort of drifting along together, me, Carla, and six children, trying to figure out what we should do next. Someone putting by helped us out (thanks, Jerry from Kumbaya)—he got my motor down far enough to go forward and towed Carla home. Had Jay had his VHF on, there’s not much he could have done, short of coming to help out by kayak (yeah, right) or telling me to just row home. Carla’s husband was out fishing, so he wasn’t there to help either.

Now I understand about being independent and self-sufficient. But sometimes you just need help. I’m seven months pregnant, for goodness’ sake—I don’t possess the physical prowess necessary for wrestling with the Merc 25. Jay didn’t exactly scold me for my helplessness, but he did express his desire that the adversity teach me something, preferably that each episode would build my confidence and competence in trouble-shooting. HA! I will not repeat the whole conversation (mostly because you don’t want to hear my irrational and emotional ranting), but suffice it to say that what I have learned is to a) never go too far from the boat or from someone who can help me; b) make sure Take Two’s radio is on and set to the same channel as the handheld unit I always have with me so that the Main Troubleshooter is available to talk me through problems; and c) get our little motor-head Aaron up to speed as quickly as possible so he can fix the damn thing.

The fact is that I am as likely to learn outboard engine repair as Jay is to learn herbal remedies to fix the kids’ various ailments. We ascribe to the “divide and conquer” way of life, and although we always have spares of everything, there are no spare family members. We each have vital roles to play and we can’t really do each other’s jobs with ease. Some cross-training is desirable, of course, or else Jay couldn’t travel for work and I’d never have a moment to myself. But the self-sufficiency we have attained is based on inter-dependency; we are able to help ourselves as a family unit because we can help each other. This teamwork is sometimes put to the test, but you can read about that in another entry…

Underway

We've decided to take advantage of the calm before the next front to leave Elizabeth Harbor and get up into the Exuma chain.  We'll weather the front there and then have the prevailing easterlies behind us as we head west.   We don't know yet how hard we'll push, so our arrival date isn't known.  The Where Are We? page will show our position.

Always Homesick

Part of traveling is the anticipation of leaving, the other, of coming home. Pithy, I know. But what that really means is that you’re always homesick for somewhere.

I have so missed my family and close friends on this trip; I probably seemed a bit overzealous when we finally met some other young families here in Georgetown. I nearly attacked poor Helene on the beach one day, and then abandoned her mid-conversation another day when introduced to Carla. The former is here with her husband and two boys (our older boys’ ages) for five months in a rental, escaping predictable life and winter in North Carolina. The latter is the first mate on a catamaran called Begonia, taking an ambitious year-long journey with her husband and two kids (a girl and a boy near Sarah and Sam’s ages). The three families together formed some kind of perfect chemistry, where everyone felt instantly comfortable, and the kids each had an age-matched playmate. That’s a rare concoction. Rare, and short-lived in this lifestyle. That brings me to the second cause of homesickness. The first thing we’ll do when we get back to Florida is get together with our families, but we will all the while be missing the people we have met on this trip. We just can’t win. Or, as Jay put it, there’s always something to look forward to.

We are waxing nostalgic about our trip through the Bahamas and we haven’t even left yet. What will we miss about cruising here? Aside from the people we have met, we will also miss the atmosphere. For example, the quiet. Almost never do we hear airplanes zooming by overhead or sirens or car motors. There is the occasional passing dinghy, it is true, but that is only in crowded anchorages like those near George Town. The dark sky is another thing I have begun to take for granted. I can look up at any time of night and spy an old friend in a constellation; I don’t even bother to get out my star chart and binoculars anymore. There are millions of visible stars here, not that I’ve counted, but it is hard to get a sky like this near civilization, since civilization means electricity, and, consequently, light pollution. The crystal-clear cerulean water, which we never get tired of looking at or jumping into, will be another thing missed, perhaps most by the children, who swim almost every day. The freedom and independence of this lifestyle appeal to me and Jay, so we are reluctant to come back to a dock, and the things on land that seem to draw us in and keep us tied up. I hope we remember how much we love being “out here” and don’t get stuck for very long. We have a plan for getting away again, and a feeling of success about this trip that will hopefully combat the complacency that comes with living near shore.

Of course, the other side of the coin is that there are things for which I can’t wait to get back. I am looking forward to happy reunions with friends and family, as are the kids, who can’t wait to see their grandparents, playmates and cousins. The other day, I noticed that the shopping carts at Exuma Markets are old “Publix” carts, and I had a good chuckle—I’m positively drooling for a real grocery store, and even, gasp! A health food store. It’s hard to find things that are not pre-packaged or canned or inexpensive enough to buy fresh (I just splurged on an $8 pineapple). I also can’t wait to get some things ready for the impending birth of our baby girl in the spring—meeting with my midwife in Sarasota, building a crib, buying a few necessities, and general nesting. And, I’m ashamed to admit, the hot showers, electric washers and dryers and swimming pool at our marina are also calling my name from afar.

Even as I long for the creature comforts of a familiar environment, I know I will miss going exploring in new places with our children, and no sooner will we be tied up to the dock than we will begin discussions about the next cruise. That is as it should be—a natural ebb and flow—we go out, have a great time, come back, touch base and regroup, and then do it again when we’re ready. Jay is right with his glass half-full analysis, but I am still feeling a little melancholy, knowing I will always be missing something.  That sweet fellowship we found here with the family on Begonia and the family staying at February Point is made all the more precious because we all share that bittersweet appreciation for the temporary nature of our adventures. This is a trip we will never forget, but also never duplicate.

Communication

The Bahamas cell phone has been a big success.  Not only for talking to the US as we’ve already detailed, but also for local communication too.  The cost of the phone, SIM card, minutes, and forwarding services have been well worth the convenience to us.  We’ve also loaned the phone to other cruisers on a couple occasions.  If we were moving around from country to country, like we expect to in the Caribbean, then acquiring new SIM cards in each would become a greater hassle and expense.  In that situation, we may investigate roaming service from Gymsim, a provider of SIM cards that work (relatively) inexpensively in multiple countries.

Cell coverage is pretty good in the Bahamas, at least around the inhabited islands.  We have a cellular amplifier with an antenna on top of the mast that is supposed to dramatically extend the range.  Unfortunately, it has never lived up to our expectations.  Part of the problem may be that it is a “direct connect” model, requiring the amplifier to plug into the phone’s antenna port.  This connection was always tenuous and highly inconvenient.  It is also becoming more difficult to find phones that even have these ports.  I think we’ll trade ours in for a connectionless “repeater” model.  This essentially puts a cell tower inside the boat, which doesn’t really make me happy, but if it works…

We’ve also already lamented our need for Internet access and problems finding it.  For our next cruise, we will have an Iridium satellite phone.  Besides being a phone which works pretty much anywhere, itself attractive for emergency situations, it can also be used for data.  The connection is slow, but workable for emails and weather data.  

To illustrate the need, at this moment we are watching for a weather window for a 4-day trip back to Florida.  Today is a nice day for the first leg, but the day after tomorrow is no good at all.  If we had the ability to get continuous weather updates, we could go part of the way today and then wait to proceed.  Instead, we feel compelled to wait here for a weather picture clear enough to do the whole trip.

Many boats have single sideband (SSB) radio transceivers for voice communication.  These can even do email with the addition of a Pactor modem.  However, reviews are mixed.  They are not as reliable or easy to use as a satellite phone.  One has to consider all kinds of atmospheric conditions just to figure out which frequencies are likely to work.  Take Two used to have an SSB radio, but her previous owner took it with him.  We still have the insulated backstay and grounding plane, which are the hardest part of an installation, so we may get another transceiver just to be salty.  We’ll skip the modem, though.

We do have a little Sony all-band radio receiver that can pick up SSB broadcasts.  With the proper cable and software it can even be connected to a computer to receive weatherfaxes.  My luck with it has been very poor to date, both for quality of the signal and quality of the information, which has really helped push me toward satellite.

Lastly, we learned during this cruise that our VHF radio does not work well.  In retrospect, we’re not sure it ever has.  Hopefully it is just the antenna at the top, or the unit inside, and not the cable in the mast.  We’ll hire a pro when we get back to diagnose it and make sure we’re putting out a clear strong signal.

Living vs. Sailing

One of the things we’ve learned while cruising is what a small percentage of time is spent underway.  I may have to turn in my man card for this, but I think men often lose sight of this when choosing and outfitting a boat.

Every boat is a compromise, and we have always liked the choices made when Take Two was drawn.  We are still happy in that regard, but if we were ever to buy another boat we might reconsider many of the designs that were summarily rejected before.  Beyond basic seaworthiness, bridgedeck clearances, displacements, and weight distribution just don’t seem as important now as they once did.  Admittedly, they would be more important if we were crossing oceans, underway for days on end, and unable to choose our weather as we now do.

Now don’t get me wrong: I love a sweet sailing boat.  And when we’re underway I’m usually trying to squeeze out every knot.  Realistically, though, much more time is spent at anchor where stability, a light airy interior, ventilation, and other creature comforts are more appreciated features overall.  Besides, I think we sail fast enough as it is.  I would not trade my big dinghy, generator, or watermaker for any amount of additional speed.

This perspective helps us prioritize the summer project list.  While the boat must remain functional, we’ve decided that sailing-related improvements are less important than those that pertain to our day-to-day comfort.  Should we buy new sails, new engines, and new navigation electronics?  That’s all on the list – but at the bottom.  No, our highest priorities are those that we’ll appreciate every day no matter where we are: a galley renovation, reupholstered cushions, shade-giving window covers and awnings, a second bathroom, a clothes washer.  Next priority is our bi-annual haulout to refresh the anti-fouling paint, which keeps us mobile and prevents a reef from growing under the boat.  Then, if we have any money left, I want to add dual wind turbines to reduce our dependence on the generator and extend our supply of diesel fuel.

Replacing the air conditioners will quickly go to the top of this list if they should happen to die while we’re in Florida this summer.  We’ve been waiting for it to happen.  We thought it had happened last summer until I realized the problem was just a $20 capacitor.  If we can’t escape from Florida at the end of the summer, then we’ll install a heating system to help us survive the winter.

Some readers may notice that the projects receiving priority are decidedly “pink” and suspect that Tanya has me at some disadvantage.  But I assure you that is not the case.  I came to these conclusions without (much) assistance, and maintain full control.  So keep your hands off my man card.  Thank you.

Life of Adventure

A lot of preparation for this trip wasn’t actually related to the boat.  We had a landlife that needed to be put in stasis.  We had everything possible automatically billed either to a credit card or the checking account, forwarded the mail, forwarded the phones, but we (I) did screw up in one regard, and that was Tanya’s van.  Basically we abandoned it.

The plan had been to sell it.  Lyle, our Man-in-Bradenton, was going to handle that for us.  But then Tanya got knocked up and that threw everything into confusion.  The van was our only vehicle that had enough seatbelts for the whole family-to-be, and we were no longer sure we should sell it.  So it is still sitting where we left it 9 months ago.

Two people tried to kill me right before we left Bradenton.  One when I was driving the truck (nice try), and then another when I was in the van.  Some people may consider that a wakeup call to their mortality, but I’m ahead of that game, so all I learned was that I didn’t like State Farm as my insurance company.  Right after they denied my claim on the van (Tanya has a predilection for backing into things, and the van had some previous damage), they sent me a bill to renew the policy.  I filed that under bullshit and promptly forgot about it.

I think I lamented in another post the cost of having things shipped into the Bahamas.  Ordinarily we have a mail package sent to us about once a month, but it never seemed worthwhile to have a mail package sent to us here.  Our mail service estimated it would cost a couple hundred bucks for them to send us all the (mostly) crap they’ve received for us.  So we didn’t receive any notice of the impending bureaucratic nightmare.

Fast forward a few months and I happened to be looking in the bullshit file.  Uh oh.  I called State Farm, and sure enough, the van's policy was ancient history.  Even better, in Florida the insurance companies report policy lapses to the DMV, who assuredly does something nasty to the owner’s driver’s license.  Thankfully, the van belongs to Tanya and not me.

Lyle reports that the van is right where we left it 9 months ago, which is pretty funny considering it is right across the street from the police department.  It has no insurance, the tags have expired, and I can’t renew them online without physically showing proof of insurance.  For all I know, there could be a bench warrant for poor Tanya.

Did State Farm call or email before the policy expired?  No, they did not.

There may be other problems waiting for us that we don’t even know about.  This is a life of adventure.

Provisioning for Extended Cruising

We are nearing the end of our three-month stay in the Bahamas. Therefore, we are evaluating our experiences here and thinking ahead to future excursions. As the Galley Officer, I am responsible for planning and executing meals and snacks for six (or seven…) while away from posh U.S. grocery stores like Publix and Whole Foods. I tried to plan ahead before we left, not knowing what I would be able to find once we entered unfamiliar territory. I knew there was a “real” grocery store in Marsh Harbor, Great Abaco, and the guide book had ads for stores along the way, but almost everything in island stores must come by boat, so I figured the choices would be fewer and more expensive. I was right.

First, let me admit that there are two ways to approach provisioning. The eat-like-the-locals crowd might argue that people have to eat everywhere on planet earth, so wherever you go, you will be able to find food, and that sampling local fare is part of what makes cruising an enjoyable cultural experience. The second crowd, the bring-what-you-like folks might argue that sampling local fare is well and good, but when you want something special from home, you better have it with you or prepare to pay an arm and a leg to get it. Most people will fall somewhere between the two extremes, but we now lean more toward the “Bring It” rather than “Find It” mentality. 

Our family made several diet changes awhile back, some of which require a lot of whole, raw materials, and a lot of time, fuel and energy. We basically eat nothing processed, as much organic/local produce as possible and pastured/free range meat and eggs and raw dairy when we can find it. Sometimes living on a boat makes this job easier (most cruisers figure out how to bake their own bread, for example), but other times, we are stuck with dried or canned goods that we would much rather find fresh. While it is true that people have to eat everywhere in the world, we do not think that all diets were created equal. The baked goods in the Bahamas, for example, are all made with white flour and white sugar, two things we avoid as much as possible. Pasta, rice and flour in the stores are almost always white as well. If we want to eat whole grains, we have to bring them ourselves and this we do in the form of wheat berries and oat groats that I grind on demand. These are not supplies you will find in even the best grocery stores, but things that must be ordered through health food stores or co-ops like Bread Beckers or Wheat Montana. 

Other things, like local produce, we are happy to buy. I’ve never seen such large, beautiful cabbages as they have on Great Exuma. Depending on where you are in the world, though, the selection is likely to be limited. We compensate for this by bringing canned, dried, or frozen goods that are sometimes available in stores, but often more expensive. Other things that fall into the “available but costly” category would be condiments, quality snack foods (especially good when underway), nuts, and other supplies for baking. Some things we are required to buy fresh, like eggs, butter, milk, and cheese. We have been pleasantly surprised to find really good imported cheddar from New Zealand here, for example.

Meat always poses a dilemma for cruisers. If you are good at it, fishing can be a good source of protein. If you have a sizeable freezer, stocking up on quality meats before leaving is not a mistake. Otherwise, you are at the mercy of whatever small grocery store you find and the packages of “mystery meat” they may sell there, or canned meats like tuna, salmon, chicken, and the old stand-by, SPAM, which Jay likes and I refuse to eat. His protein needs exceed mine, so while beans could easily form a staple in my diet, Jay really needs meat to feel satisfied. We packed the freezer and don’t regret it.

I was happy to discover that I didn’t over-provision for this trip. I ran out at the last minute and bought extras of favorite health-store items like all-natural toothpaste and pure liquid castile soap and don’t regret it for a minute. My crazy bulk-buying at Costco paid off as well, and the only thing I might to differently is to buy more of the things we are running out of, like maple syrup, paper towels, nuts and whole-wheat pasta. When I do shop, I always have sticker shock in the checkout line. I would say the grocery bill here in the Bahamas is double what it was in the U.S. and that is without buying the organic products I am used to, and cutting out extras like chips, ice cream, yogurt, and lunch meats. And what passes for a grocery store in the smaller settlements would make my friends back home laugh. I am happy to patronize these little shops which support the local economy, and have had lovely interactions with proprietors from Green Turtle to George Town, but it’s really not sustainable long-term.

Our decisions are colored by the fact that we view this not as a camping trip, but as a lifestyle, and also by the sheer quantity of food we must buy and prepare to feed a large family. For an adventuresome couple, eating whatever you find along the way might be doable, but for us, I need to know that my growing children will have a healthy breakfast every morning. Although I am cautious about giving provisioning advice to prospective cruisers, I offer this one thought: the reality is that living on a boat limits your space for storing food, so bring as much as you can of the things you feel you can’t live without, and be willing to try new things along the way.

For further reading on this topic you might like The Care and Feeding of  Sailing Crew by Lin and Larry Pardy and Gourmet Underway by Robbie Johnson.

Wonder Wash vs. Splendide

You will often hear me say how satisfying it is to do things by hand. Homemade bread, for example, or binding the children’s schoolwork into books, hand-washing dishes, even washing the laundry by hand is very rewarding. Hard work, yes, but at the end of the day, I have something meaningful, or at least concrete, to show for my time and energy.

So it may come as some surprise when I say I am ready to retire the dynamic duo that make up my laundry system, Wonder Wash and Dyna-Jet. Move over, manual labor and make room for an electric machine. We are in the process of evaluating every system on the boat, now that we have put some miles under the keel and spent some time actively cruising. What works? What doesn’t? And what might change once we introduce a new baby? This last question prompts me to hang up the idea of hand-washing. I already spend the better part of three days a week washing, rinsing, wringing, hanging, and folding the family’s clothing and towels, and that’s with everyone wearing things until they’re actually dirty. How much extra time will it take to wash/hang diapers? And when exactly was I supposed to educate the crew? It’s time to reconsider the trade-offs.

The Wonder Wash serves as an agitator, and although the jury is still out on whether it is actually better than swishing stuff around in a bucket, the crank handle means you can be more methodical about the wash cycle, and that a small person can help with that chore. The Dyna-Jet is a hand-crank wringer attached to a bucket, and with one person feeding clothes through and cranking, another can be pulling, with the end result that most of the murky rinse water gets wrung out of the clothes so that they can be hung to dry in a reasonable amount of time. It has worked just fine, really, and I am pleased that our family of six can sustain the hand-washing for long periods of time. But Wonder Wash is beginning to wear out, Dyna-Jet is rusting, and we are still using an insane amount of human energy and fresh water to get clothes clean.

We are planning to replace these two simple machines with a Splendide, an Italian-made marine washer/dryer that will use, we think, about the same amount of water but get the clothes cleaner, and without ruining my hands. I am going to be busy enough with the extra attention a baby requires without the bother of hand-washing laundry. When we are in a marina, coin machines will probably still do the trick, but when we’re out and about, the Splendide will take over my old job. I’m looking forward to the break, and the children whose chore for the month is “Laundry Assistants” are pretty happy about a machine, too.

As long as it works as promised, the hardest job will be building new cabinetry to add an appliance, and finding storage space for items that will be displaced. We are likely to still hang the laundry and will only use the dryer sparingly, and when the generator is running. But like everything else in our live-aboard life, we have really learned to appreciate things that we always took for granted when we lived in a house.

Fuel Usage

A good long trip is a great time to evaluate fuel consumption and capacities.

With 200 gallons of diesel aboard, there is a tendency to think it will last forever.  Of course it doesn’t, as we’ve already proven.  We also now know that actually putting 200 gallons into the tanks is not such a good idea, and have revised our capacity down slightly.  

With the rough graduations we put on the fuel gauges during our last fill we’re now at least able to monitor the decline with some confidence.  And with the empirically determined generator burn rate (0.4 gal/hr), and the new engine hour meters, we can extrapolate our propulsion burn rate (0.6 gal/hr).  This is useful for various planning exercises.  For example, we can now estimate with some confidence that with a full load of fuel we could either motor 1,600 nm on one engine OR run the generator daily for 320 days.

Propane is our second most important fuel since we use it for cooking.  We were very uncertain when considering a switch to propane because we didn’t know how much we’d use.  With all the cooking, bread baking, and tea & coffee drinking we do, the concern was that we couldn’t reasonably carry enough propane and would be constantly in search of more.  Those concerns were unnecessary as it turns out.  Our 10-month average shows that we get 30 days out of a 20# bottle.  We carry three bottles dedicated for the galley, so we have about 3 months of fuel there.  Our last bottle is projected to run out in 10 days (yes, I have a spreadsheet for that), but we have another 30 pounds for the grill.  The grill has seen very little use on this trip due to lack of fish and cows.

It is very nice not to have to worry about getting propane.  It isn’t available everywhere in the world, and in some cases the bottles have to be sent off to be filled.  George Town is supplied by a truck that comes once a week and queries about when/where are almost a daily occurrence on the morning radio net.  Apparently the truck broke down this week which is causing some anxiety in the harbor.  I’d like to add a fourth bottle for the galley and build a rack to store them more securely and efficiently.

We also carry a fair amount of gasoline.  Our dinghy motors, little Honda generator, and hookah dive compressor all have gas engines.  Gas is harder to store (and more dangerous), so we try to strike a balance between having enough without having too much.  We have four 5 gallon jugs and try to have at least two full at any time.  The dinghy has a 12-gallon tank and we feed it 5 gallons at a time to make it easy to mix in the oil.  

We don’t really have a good way to store gas, but I’m not sure that there is a good way.  I prefer to store the full jugs on the deck to prevent the possibility of fumes inside the boat, but then they are subject to temperature and pressure variations which can’t be good for them.  A hot fuel tank can build an enormous amount of pressure.  Maybe some type of cover would help.  I suppose I could also vent the tanks, but then I’d be concerned about the fuel absorbing moisture.

I count the dive tanks among the fuels.  We have two and they live on deck also, although probably shouldn’t for the same temperature/pressure concerns.  I didn’t put them in a locker thinking they might be a safety risk there too.  We carry the tanks in addition to the hookah simply because we have them.  I can throw a hose on a tank and be in the water in minutes, while the hookah requires more setup and cleanup.  Tanks are also much quieter than the hookah.  But tanks have a very finite capacity, which makes the hookah way more practical overall.  I suspect we’ll continue carrying the tanks (because we have them and do find them useful), but need to evaluate how they’re stored.

I Don’t Fish

My friend Ken will be so disappointed in me.  

Ken and his family are out on the water almost every day.  In the summer they're catching lobster and spearfishing, in the winter they go crabbing, and they're fishing all the time in between.  When we were planning to cross the Gulf Stream, Ken gave me a lure and told me how to use it.  My track record for fishing at that point wasn’t so good.  Lots of money spent on gear, but not much time getting it wet, and mostly catfish and barracuda to show for it.  But with visions of tuna and mahi mahi I gratefully took the lure.  We were in the Gulf Stream for about 12 daylight hours.  Did I put the lure in the water?  No, I did not.

Before a trip, catching a big fish seems like a no-brainer.  After the trip I pine for those big tuna steaks with regret.  But during the trip it just seems like a hassle.  I’m not hungry.  I don’t want to fight with a fish.  I don’t want to slow the boat down to haul it in.  I don’t want to clean a fish.  I don’t want to dehook another damn barracuda.  I'm focused on running the boat and everything not necessary to that end is put aside.

It was the same story between the Abacos and Eleuthera. I did put Ken’s lure in the water on the banks between Eleuthera and the Exumas.  It yielded a very nice snapper, followed by two very angry barracuda, the last of which bit through the wire leader and stole the hook.

Mutton Snapper

We went offshore a third time between Big Farmer’s Cay and Elizabeth Harbor.  I put a new hook on the lure, but once again, didn’t feel like putting it in the water.  A boat making the same trip alongside us caught four mahi-mahi on hand lines.  If they were in the fish, so were we.

It isn’t just fishing.  I have a new pole spear that has never tasted blood, and I haven’t bagged any lobster since the last time we went out with Ken.  Technically cruisers aren’t allowed to take conch in the Bahamas, but they were never in much danger from me anyway.

I’m not proud of any of this, and I hope to improve.  We expect that fish will eventually make up a large portion of the meat in our diet.  What we’ve seen available in the stores tends to confirm those suspicions.  Have you ever seen a Bahamian cow?  I haven’t had a good steak since my dad brought some in before Christmas.

Once the fish is cleaned, we can do it justice.  Another boat donated a big hunk of tuna to us.  We marinated it in lemon, soy, sesame, ginger, and garlic, then pan seared it and ate it rare.  Oh, it was good.

It would probably help if we started the trip with a cooler full of ice and could just throw the fish in without having to worry about cleaning it right away.  Hand lines are also probably better for hauling in a fish than reeling in 100 yards of fishing line.  But until I take a more relaxed view of our passages rather than being focused on VMGs and ETAs, I'll probaby never want to fish.

We have three more bodies of deep water to cross before we return to Florida, so I still have an opportunity to redeem myself with a big fish.  I’m not holding my breath.