Here are some early drawings from the carpenter building our new nav station.  These are just screenshots, but what he actually gave us is a 3D model that we could flip, rotate, and crawl inside.  We're ecstatic that we can communicate in such detail about what he's going to build, and very impressed that he got so close to what we were envisioning just based on our conversations.  We've been back and forth with revisions to optimize usable space, so there will be a few extra drawers and shelves that aren't shown here.  We should have it in the boat sometime next week.  The empty space in the front is for the washer/dryer.

In general we love having a slip close to shore and being able to back the boat up to the dock, but there's a downside that we didn't anticipate.  We should have taken a clue from the rat "hotel" under the dock gangway.  Then yesterday afternoon T found some evidence that there had been a rat in the boat.  With two cats aboard, we hoped he scoped things out and then beat a hasty retreat.  But at 3:30am this morning, the cats located him hiding mere feet from where Tanya makes her temporary bed.  I was promptly notified that a full-scale rat removal project was required.  Now.

I'm sure it was a comical scene.  I chased him around the boat naked with a pair of kitchen tongs for about 30 minutes before I finally cornered and caught him.  I distracted him with the flashlight and got him with the tongs from above.  He gave a couple panicked squeaks and then was silent. 

I hadn't given any thought what to do with him at this point, so I stood outside, naked, holding a pair of tongs and a very pathetic little rat and contemplated my options.  I wasn't about to take him ashore, ask his forgiveness, and set him free to find his way back.  His trangression carried mortal consequences as far as I was concerned, and there was a chance I'd already killed him with my determined grip on the tongs.  I decided I didn't care where he ended up as long as it was far away and he got there quickly, so I hurled him off into the night.  It was a good throw and a few seconds later I heard a splash.  But then I realized I no longer had the tongs.  Oh well.  I don't think Tanya wanted them back anyway.

In addition to the cats on the inside, there's a feral stray that patrols the dock (and our boat) most nights.  I would have thought that would be enough to keep rats from getting too adventuresome.  I don't know if he came aboard by the docklines, but our transoms are less than a foot from the dock, so I don't think there's much I can do to rat proof the boat.  So for now I guess we'll get some new tongs.  And maybe a spare pair, too.

While we were still in the Bahamas and looking forward to returning home, we made a list with the kids over dinner one night of all the things we wanted to do this summer.  Some of these things are already done, or on the calendar, and some I know won't happen.  There are also other things that belong here, but I'll leave them off to remain true to the original list.

Japanese Steakhouse
Disney World/EPCOT
Legoland
Monster Truck Show
Lowry Park Zoo
Family Mini Golf
Cayo Costa with T family
Take friends sailing (Jonah & Leyla, Drew)
Visit Cousins in Naples
Visit the Windsor
Tortugas with F family
Fantasy of Flight
Dinosaur World
Water Park
Boys Shooting
Kennedy Space Center
County/State Fair
Laser Tag
Planet Jump
Bowling
Guitar & Piano Lessons
Camping
Sweet Tomatoes
Chick-Fil-A
IHOP
Go to Church
Bar-B-Que
Coldstone Creamery
BBQ at Mimi's
Airplane (the movie) 

Just as we were getting used to life without Spice…

Tanya was cooking dinner tonight when she heard a knock on the hull.  She went outside and was shocked to find a man who lives near the end of our dock standing there holding Spice.  He had heard meowing from the boat next to his; one that didn’t have people aboard, let alone cats.  He investigated and found Spice inside.  Apparently she went in by an overhead hatch and couldn’t get back out.

Needless to say, we are ecstatic to have her back.  Spice is restless and re-exploring all the corners of the boat.  She doesn’t look like she’s been trapped for 8 days, although she plainly smells like a closed boat.  I’m sure the boat doesn’t smell any better for the encounter either.  She’s hoarse and starved for attention, but not much thinner than she always has been.  

Spice’s return has put a crimp in Sugar’s plans of household domination, and Sugar isn’t exactly welcoming her.  

Without going too much into the social dynamics between our cats, Sugar has always been the big sister but Spice has always been the favorite.  Sugar is jealous of the attention Spice receives.  While Spice was gone Sugar did not pine for her as much as we thought was appropriate.  We were willing to chalk this up to an animal’s acceptance of the ways of nature, but we harbored a slight suspicion toward Sugar as having had some involvement in Spice’s disappearance.

However, our suspicion was stronger regarding a stray cat that we’ve been dealing with.  We think he’s a tom, and he has not been shy about coming aboard at night and claiming our boat as his territory.  

Spice has always been the bouncer.  In Atlanta she bolted through an open door to chase a neighbor’s cat off of our back deck.  She didn’t stop until she got to the backyard fence, whereupon a visible look of panic crossed her face as she realized she was outside in that green stuff, and then ran even faster back into the house.  In Clearwater she chased a squirrel… onto the roof of the house.  Tanya heard the plaintive meows and had to rescue her with a ladder.  

So our leading theories about Spice’s disappearance were that she chased the tom and got lost, hurt, or was up a tree and couldn’t get down.  We checked the trees nearby and hoped for the best.

While Spice was gone Sugar received all our regular attention and maybe some extra.  She blossomed in the absence of her sister.  She seemed to become a sweeter cat.  And last night she ran off the tom.  

Tanya sleeps upstairs now (to reduce the impact to both of our rests when she trundles out of our bunk 4-5 times a night) and was awakened last night to a full-blown catfight in our cockpit.  It was Sugar and the tom.  She thrashed him pretty good and then stood guard at the cockpit door for the rest of the night.  I won’t be surprised if he doesn’t come back.

Sugar is now directing that aggression toward poor Spice.  We’ve seen this before when Spice came home from an extended visit at the vet’s office smelling like that feared and hated place.  We’re doing everything we can to make Spice feel welcome and expect Sugar’s rejection to pass as Spice reacquires the household smell.  If that starts taking too long we’ll just give them both a bath and call it even.

Update: Spice found after 8 days.

As we prepare to add a new crew member, it looks like we’ve lost an old one.  One of our cats, Spice, apparently has decided she’s had enough of the cruising life.  Ironically, between the cats, she was the one who seemed to adjust to it the best.  We arrived here on Wednesday, and Thursday night was the last time we saw her.

We’re saddened and anxious for her welfare.  It is easy to assume the worst, but we prefer to think she’s found a new home.  Its better this way than if she went missing at sea, or doubt was otherwise removed.

Spice was a simple cat and very sweet.  We used to joke that she rode the short bus.  While almost 14 in human years, mentally she was just a kitten.  It is possible she’s up a tree or under a bush somewhere and may yet find her way home, but I think the odds are against us seeing her again.

Spice and her sister Sugar were our first kids.  We got them from the pound when they were six weeks old and we were six weeks married.  We brought them home in the car with Tanya holding one in each hand.  We marked their birthdays by our anniversaries.  

When Spice was a kitten she used to play with balls of yarn, as kittens are apt to do, except Spice swallowed the end of one.  As newlyweds it seemed frivolous to shell out the $600 for surgery to remove the yarn from her intestines, but looking back it was money well spent.  She provided 13 years of companionship and amusement.  Even though she was getting some gray in her whiskers, she would still occasionally chase her tail.

Fair winds Spice.

Spice
Spy
Spidamo
Spideycat
Spice-y-moto
Spice-o-rama
Spice-a-rooni
Spyder
Spicetastic
1997-

We’re safely ensconced in our new slip at our old marina.  

For having so few choices about places where we can fit, we have amazingly good luck.  Our old spot had a beautiful view of the river and was very private, but it was an end-tie and the boat would grind against the fenders when the breeze picked up.  We also had boats going around us which sometimes made me nervous.  We were never hit, but the seawall was.

This new slip can’t be beat for convenience.  It is the shortest distance to the pool, laundry, and where the packages are delivered – all the important stuff.  Since we’re in a real slip the boat is secured away from the dock which cuts down on noise.  We don't even have fenders out.  We’re also backed in, instead of being sideways to the dock.  This allows us to simply walk down the transoms and step onto the dock, which is great for those of us carrying a few extra pounds.  We have a little more road noise, but a lot less privacy.

Re-entering the US was painless.  They didn’t even know we were gone.  For all our security and big federal agencies, the US is surprisingly lax in this regard.  

Tanya and I have registered through the Local Boater Option program.  We appeared before a Customs and Border Patrol officer before we left and were issued a 6-digit ID number.  Upon return, we only had to give this number over the phone and we were done.  Unfortunately, they don’t issue these numbers for kids under 14 so I had to read names, birth dates, and passport numbers for all of them.  Then I was told the kids needed to be seen by a CBP officer.  Can you guess how happy we all were about that?  I called the airport to set up an appointment, but was told by the officer there that it wasn’t necessary.  It took a few phone calls, but our arrival was processed without seeing anyone.

Tanya’s van situation was cleared up with similar ease.  I could buy insurance online with a credit card in a matter of about 10 minutes and print out an insurance card.  Unfortunately, the electronic processes that so efficiently communicate a lack of insurance to the DMV don’t work in the opposite direction.  I had to go into a tax collector’s office and show proof of insurance in order to renew the tags, but that wasn’t too bad.

Right now our days are consumed with readjusting to shore life.  It isn’t difficult, but there’s a lot to do.  The boat needs to be unloaded, cleaned inside and out, and then reloaded with the stuff we *really* need.  We need to select contractors for our upholstery and carpentry work and get those projects underway.  Plus a hundred other things, large and small.  And that’s just the boat list.  The kids have their own, and it’s a doozy.  And then there’s visiting with all the people we’ve missed.  In short, we’re slammed.

But it’s all good.  We’re really enjoying our time back.  We’re going to my mother’s house tonight so she can see the kids and Tanya and I can get some downtime.  Sam wanted to know how many miles and if we could sail, or if we’d have to motor.

February 19

Our day of rest in Marathon was amazingly recuperative.  Despite the marked lack of anchorages on the ocean side of the Keys, we managed to find a tiny little place we could tuck into and enjoy a couple nights of peace.  Our standards for anchorages are also much lower than they used to be.  Basically, if the waves are less than 2 feet and the boat lays into them, we’re good with it.

We gave very little notice that we were coming.  Well, as little as possible for people with a satellite tracker posting their position to a website every 20 minutes.  When we knew there would be a stop in Marathon, we called friends and made plans for breakfast.   They’re the custodians of our truck, so we had the use of that for the day, and they very graciously allowed us use of their laundry machines, for all of which we are immensely grateful.

There were two other coincidental reunions with Marathon friends.  For one of them, we were driving down the Overseas Highway when the backseat suddenly exploded with shouts of “Cameron!” as the kids spotted a good friend riding his bike.  Grownups and kids each got to chat and play for a few hours and had a thoroughly good time.  Then it was lunch at The Hurricane with pizza and beer, something I’d been thinking about for months.

Tanya took a therapeutic trip to Publix (something she’d been thinking about for months) and did herself proud.  She restocked us on Belgian beer and even got a little Kalik, just because she could and it was cheaper than in the Bahamas.

Getting it all home was another matter, though.  The boat was 2 miles upwind from the dock.  It was the longest, wettest, most miserable dinghy ride to date.  We were so loaded with groceries and clean laundry that we couldn’t even get on a plane to end the misery sooner.  Sam expressed it for all of us when about halfway he just started to cry.  Despite being cold and wet, we got our goodies home with minimal loss.

February 20

Not much happened as we moved from Marathon to Key West.  We sailed for awhile and then motored when we couldn’t do that anymore.  We wanted to arrive before sunset since we weren’t all that confident about finding a place to anchor.  All my previous trips to Key West have been to a marina.

We did our fuel calculations in earnest since Key West was our last planned stop, we had 180 miles left to Tampa, and the forecast was looking very light.  I think we have 30 gallons left in the tanks and another 8 in jugs.  That would allow us to motor about 50 hours and we should be able to make the trip in less than 40 on one engine.  So I’m declaring us good on fuel.

There are no fish between Marathon and Key West.

February 21

It is indeed light today.  The forecasted 10-15 is looking more like 6-8 from where I’m sitting.  We’re under spinnaker only and it is so flat we can actually carry it, though we’re only moving at less than 3 knots.  This is the first time we haven’t fired up an engine in light air on this trip.

We’re resigned to one night underway on this leg.  It would be nice to avoid a second, but it is so peaceful we’re content for the moment.  We’ll have plenty of time to motor later.  

Tanya didn’t handle our last overnight as well as she expected to and usually does.  Between getting kicked all night and having to get up several times, she doesn’t rest very well even on a good night.  Having to stand the 3-6am watch just kills her for the next day.

A while later…

Our enjoyment of sailing wore off quickly as the breeze got softer, the day got hotter, and our ETA stretched out farther.  We don't motor well in the best conditions, which these were.  Yet we could barely make 4 knots on one engine at RPMs where we usually get 5.  

I dove under the boat to make sure we weren’t dragging anything and the props were reasonably clean.  We weren’t, and they were, though I did find a small bit of poly rope on the port propeller from that float we hit in the Keys.  The hulls, however, have a pretty uniform coating of slime, which must be our problem.  I’m not willing to do anything about that.  For starters, the water temp is somewhere in the 60’s.  That’s too cold for me, even with a wetsuit primed with warm water.  Secondly, I’m a chicken about getting in the water when I can’t see the bottom.  Getting that knot back would shave 8 hours off of the trip, but spending 2 hours in the water to clean the bottom is just not going to happen.

I can’t push the boat harder because the fuel calculations are based on a fixed RPM.  Today was supposed to be a sailing day, but we started motoring much sooner than expected.  We’re going to be on fumes when we arrive, but I still expect to make it.  I have enough in reserve to get us to a fuel dock if I’m wrong.

February 22

It was a long boring day of motoring.  We put a sail up for awhile, but it didn’t help much.

We arrived at Tampa Bay after midnight and in fog.  The channel itself wasn’t a concern, but the crab pots were impossible to see.  I just had to risk it and got lucky.  

We’re not heading to our normal anchorage in the river since I don’t feel confident maneuvering around other boats with only radar.  We’re heading to a spot outside the river that should be empty, and hopefully where nobody will run us down in the fog.  We’ll move to the marina in the morning.

Feels good to be here.

February 17

I’d been regretting my gripe about perfect days yesterday.  Yesterday really was a beautiful day, and the whole spinnaker fiasco was probably my fault.  Today, however, really was perfect.

We left New Providence around 7am.  It was light and rolly until we got away from the island, then something like ENE 15-18 settled in.  There was a north swell that we didn’t get rid of for a couple hours, which had the kids grumpy and lethargic.  Eventually we set the spinnaker and had a great downhill day.

It was about 40 miles from New Providence to the Northwest Channel.  We put some lures out as we approached the banks, since I figured that was the best place to find the fish, and the presence of sportfishing boats seemed to concur.  Nada.  The lines stayed out onto the banks and I caught my smallest barracuda to date — not even 2 feet.  He went for a lure about half his size.  Typical barracuda.

There were no confirmed whale sightings as we crossed the Tongue of the Ocean, but Sarah saw something that was likely a pilot or beaked whale.  She said it was bigger than a porpoise and had a very blunt nose.

The spinnaker started getting a little high maintenance as we bore off for a 50 mile leg to the South Riding Rocks.  It seems happiest with the wind around 120 apparent, and we can get it as high as 90.  150 is about the deepest we can carry it, though.  At least without constant adjustment for wind shifts and Otto’s steering.

Otto has been giving a lot of trouble lately.  This is not good since he is a crucial member of the crew.  His best trick is to silently switch from Auto to Standby mode.  We had a nice accidental jibe today because he took a nap at the wheel.  We’ve decided he’s narcoleptic.  The primary job of the person on watch is to keep him company and make sure he stays awake.

We took the spinnaker down at dusk and decided to go with just a main.  After an hour or so we put a reef in.  After the accidental jibe Tanya was a little shy about sailing deep on her watch, so we ended up a little north of our line to the Rocks and had to put in a couple (intentional) jibes at the end to clear them.

From the Rocks it’s 50-something miles to Florida.  I was hoping for a full moon for this crossing and we nailed it.  I don’t particularly like sailing at night and moonlight helps a lot.  I don’t know exactly how far the crossing is because we’re not there yet and I’m not sure where we’ll end up.  The stream is really making itself felt.  I don’t want to fight it, and the breeze is about E 17-21, so I’m heading 275.  The GPS shows us going about 285 over the ground.  If it keeps up, we’ll end up about 10 miles north of our waypoint.  

February 18

It was a pretty uneventful night, which is exactly the way we like it.  Tanya had to contend with one cruise ship.  It crossed about a 1-mile ahead of us by her estimate.  That’s a little close.

The wind stayed E 17-21 and we stayed with a single-reefed main.  It was slow, but predictable.  The course deviation did keep up and even increased for awhile, and we did end up well north of our waypoint.  This was somewhat expected, and the reason we chose to a longer, but more southerly route from the South Riding Rocks, rather than Bimini or Cat Cay.  The Rocks were also much easier to negotiate at night.

On the midnight-3am watch I got disgusted and started jiggling Otto’s wiring.  I found a loose one and he appears to be cured.  By the time we get home we can be sure.  It will be nice to scratch a large and expensive project off the summer list.

As the sun rose, we could see and smell Florida (yes, from upwind).  The water was noticeably less clear, and there were seabirds plying the waves.   There were also hundreds of what I initially thought were plastic water bottles floating on the water.  If I passed one within 50 feet or so, I could see that it wasn’t really a bottle, but had a ridge on it, like a sail or fin.  It wasn’t until later in the day when I pointed one out to the kids that I learned they were in fact Portuguese man o’ war.

Other things that remind us we’re in Florida are actual, honest-to-god navigation channels.  With all the markers too!  And big sportfish boats that buzz right by sailboats thowing the biggest wakes possible in those channels.  And crab and lobster fishermen that think marked channels are a great place to put their pots.

The crab pot situation in Florida is something I’ll never understand.  They’re a hazard.  Navigating a marked channel in Florida requires more diligence than an unmarked one in the Bahamas, and it is highly unwise to run a boat at night in the Keys.  I hit two pots in broad daylight.  One I hit with my port propeller and broke up the float.  Another I snagged with my starboard rudder.  This has happened to us several times.  The pots drag along in our wake until I cut them loose with a knife.  I’ve gotten off easy (so far); poor Niels wrapped one around a propeller, tore up his transmission, and had to spend a week in the Marathon Boat Yard.

We crossed the reef into Hawk Channel and began a long day of working down the Keys.  We stopped near Marathon and will take a day’s rest, then continue to Key West and finally head north for Tampa Bay.  Crossing to Florida only represents the halfway point of our trip from a distance standpoint, but we already feel home.

February 14

Picking up from my last post, we did leave Black Point and continue north.  But not before getting boarded by the Royal Bahamian Defense Force for a check of our cruising permit.  They were nice guys, but I’m always a little bit nervous during these encounters.  They did ask if we have any weapons and asked several times how many kids we had, possibly having lost count.  Tanya sent them away with Valentine’s cookies hot out of the oven.

We anchored near Pipe Cay around sunset.  Our plan the next day was to make 70 miles to New Providence, where we’d stage for the last 140 miles to Florida.

At bedtime we discovered that one of our cats had been seasick… in the bed.  It wasn’t a pleasant discovery.  After all the water we took down the hatches the other day, we’re running low on clean sheets.

February 15

We can only imagine the entertainment we must be providing for the armchair skippers watching our SPOT track.

We left Pipe Cay at sunrise this morning and headed off toward New Providence.  Winds were about 14-18 from the NNE, but a couple sustained gusts to 20 obliged me to put a reef in the main.  

An hour or two into what was looking to be a 10 hour day, we lost luff tension in the jib.  Initially I assumed the halyard broke, which really ticked me off because it’s practically brand new, and wasn’t cheap.  No matter, I figured we’d just switch to the spare halyard.  We luffed up and dropped the jib.

The sail came down without any difficulty.  The webbing at the head was still intact.  There was a little damage along the first few inches of luff tape, but it didn’t seem like a big deal.  Still, something didn’t seem right.  It wasn’t until I was getting the spare halyard ready and looked aloft that I realized the top swivel of the roller furler was still at the top of the mast.  So much for going to New Providence today.

We were going to have to send someone up the mast to get that swivel, and we needed sheltered water for that.  So we turned around and headed to Warderick Wells.  Eli did the honors.  The swivel came down without difficulty.  I expected to find a twisty shackle with the pin backed out or possibly broken.  Instead I found a 3/8” stainless bow shackle.  It wasn’t just broken: there was a section missing from the bow. 

There were no markings on this shackle, but others that size I have onboard are marked 1 TON WLL (working load limit).  I don’t think we put anywhere near a ton of pressure on it, I think it was just a piece of junk and probably failed from crevice corrosion.  I usually throw unmarked shackles away.  I had no idea one was holding up my jib.  Shame on me, but it would have been nice if my rigger had mentioned it.

Tanya didn’t like the looks of the luff tape and set about repairing it.

In the excitement with the broken shackle, nobody noticed the tail of the jib halyard slip up inside the mast.  Tanya had the idea to go ahead and pull the primary halyard out and replace the old secondary with the better line.  I’m sure my rigger can reeve a new secondary halyard, but it’s a tricky thing to do with the mast up.  I’m developing a list of things to do when the mast gets pulled next.  In the meantime, the kids have lost their swing.  They probably weren’t going to be doing much of that in the marina anyway.

With the jib back on the furler, we got back underway with the intent to get further north up the Exumas for jumping off to New Providence the next day.  

We ended up at Shroud Cay for the night.  We missed this one on the way down.  Warderick Wells is really the only part of the Exuma Land and Sea Park we’d seen.  But every part we have seen has been amazingly beautiful, and Shroud was no exception.  The interior is a kayaker’s paradise, much to Tanya’s chagrin since we didn’t have time for her to go explore.  We all went by dinghy instead and still managed to enjoy it.

It should be a broad reach, and only about 40 miles tomorrow, so hopefully an easy day.

February 16

Today was a beautiful day for crossing over to New Providence.  Conditions were about NE 14-18 in the morning and gradually softened to about ENE 10-15.  It was a little brisk for the spinnaker to start, so we sailed above our course with the jib for about the first half, expecting the wind to clock and moderate.  It did and we bore off to set the chute.  

This is family blog, so I can’t accurately describe what the sail did or any of my thoughts on the matter.  Basically it wrapped itself around anything it could.  I could not get it up or down.  We tacked, we gybed, I shouted curses.  The mess just got bigger.  Eventually I was able to drag it down, not caring if it tore, and stuff it down a hatch.  I waited awhile for my temper to cool and strength return to my upper body, and then began the chore of untangling the sail and repacking it in its sock.

We were doing okay without the spinnaker, but I needed to show it who was boss.  I was also counting on using it the next day.  The relaunch went much smoother and we carried it all the way to New Providence.

We just can’t seem to get a perfect day on this trip.