Category Archives: General

Crossing Over

Tree Trek, Boquete

I spent more than 18 years preparing my son and myself for this crossing, but it still feels surprising. After our thanksgiving cruise, Eli packed a bag, hopped in his truck and drove to Naples to work for my brother during his break between college semesters.

Eli's truck

I thought he would be back after that, at least for a few months, but he’s decided to stay. He’s in a great place—he has a place to live, a job, classes he can take online, people to hang out with, and a support system of extended family. He was ready to go and we were ready for him to go. So why am I crying?

Tanya holding Eli in LDR

I feel the way I felt after giving birth: relieved, happy to meet the emerging person, and a little sad that the time of close companionship is at an end. All of childhood is a slow cutting of that umbilical cord.

Mountain Goat

I miss seeing Eli every day. I miss his sarcastic comments. I miss him during evening tidy-up, because he always took the initiative. I miss talking to him late at night. I miss his thoughtful comments during dinner conversations. I even miss the things that annoy me; I feel their absence. I knew it was my job to work myself out of a job. But the human heart is too small to house so many emotions—pride, joy, trepidation, sadness, longing, expectation, hope—all at once. They keep leaking out my eyes.

Volcano Descent

Take Nothing for Granted

Sunrise at Sea, Gulf of Mexico, November 2020

I’m taking nothing for granted this year. Things that would have seemed forgone conclusions in years past—hanging out with family on holidays, for example—have become special events for which we weigh risk and reward. For so many, it has been a hard year. Just like “love” and “friendship” are what we do despite differences and division, “gratitude” is what we do despite hardship. In the middle of all the losses, we look for small gains. And it gives us hope.

Despite so much bad news, we have been extremely fortunate this year. Jay has had plenty of work, we have food and shelter, we have our health, our family is intact, the older kids have been able to continue high school and college from home and take steps toward independence, and Sam and Rachel have continued with their studies and have been able to meet with a few friends despite the ongoing pandemic. I have been able to meet in person (at the beach) with my Wednesday morning Bible study—a group of true sisters for whose prayers and support I am especially thankful this year. And since returning to Florida, we have been able to spend precious time with our extended family. I have never been so aware of what—and who—is really important in my life.

I am under no illusions. Though some days I feel like the luckiest woman alive, I know how fragile life is and how quickly things can change. The ocean has certainly taught me that—one minute, you’re on the crest of a wave, scoping out the distant horizon, and the next you are plunged into the trough, surrounded by hills of foaming green water. Counting blessings is an important practice which can help us stay positive in the midst of negative circumstances—remembering and acknowledging good things can keep us afloat until we can see the horizon again.

Sunset, Gulf of Mexico, December 2020

As I approach another turn around the sun, here is my “thankful list”:

• We live in Florida, where we can be outside all year. The weather the last few weeks has been especially beautiful. Also, we survived another hurricane season in one piece!

• We have been homeschooling, working from home, and living self-sufficiently for a long time, so this year did not represent a major life shift as it did for so many. We chose to live in close quarters, and we acknowledge the privilege of that choice.

• I am thankful for the captain and crew of Take Two—for their hard work, their companionship, and the happy memories we have made together.

• We were able to go sailing in November—and experience probably the nicest overnight passage in our 12 years aboard Take Two on our way to Charlotte Harbor, where we met with Jay’s dad and stepmom, Al and Mary, and had a buddy-boating Thanksgiving. We loved our month of being neighbors with S/V Lovely Cruise.

• I was able to host my family in my home! It is a rare treat to share my floating life with my parents, in-laws, siblings, and nieces and nephews. I am so grateful for all of them.

• I got to spend time with several old friends this year—my mentor and home-school hero Mary Hines and her husband Jim (who planned our wedding and officiated, respectively, 23 years ago), my best friend from college, Heather, my friend Tarin who lived around the corner in our Clearwater neighborhood, my friend and fellow boat-mom from our first marina, Vicki (S/V Oddysea) and her niece Keren, and our friends from S/V Abby Singer, S/V Rothim, and S/V Cerca Trova.

• I even made some new friends, despite it being a year where people look at strangers like “purveyors of death” instead of “friends they haven’t met yet!” I am very thankful for the friends and neighbors aboard S/V Sputnik, S/V Must Love Dogs, S/V September Winds, S/V Tulsi, M/V Concrete Idea, S/V Watercolors, S/V Mysoun, and S/V Sweet Mary.

• We live in a quiet and relatively safe corner of the world, and we are surrounded by a wonderful tribe of homeschooling families. I am extremely grateful for this community. I can’t imagine a better place to weather these strange circumstances.

• I am so grateful for our friends in Venezuela, Providencia, and Guatemala, whose lives have been spared despite truly harrowing circumstances. We are praying for you every day.

• I am thankful for every sunrise, every sunset, every day I wake up on planet earth. I am thankful to God for the gift of life itself. May I never take it for granted and let no day go wasted.

Buddy Boat (sunset)
Buddy-boating at Thanksgiving with Al and Mary Hackney on S/V Lovely Criuse

Hurricane Plan

Hurricane Plan
Take Two tied in the mangroves for Tropical Storm Eta, Florida Keys, 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 heart-wrenching 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

We have weathered a few 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

We were anchored during Tropical Storm Debbie 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 Debbie, 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. 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

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 if a boat 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

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

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.

Day Dreaming

Sometimes it feels like our years traveling in the Caribbean were just a dream. The present, with its mundane tasks, disrupted community, bad news, and “stuckness,” seems very real, while the life of adventure, beauty, and travel, far away. Therein lies the danger of nostalgia: to feel discontented in the present by glorifying the past. But I know that there were hardships, boredom, and loneliness there, too. That’s just life, the good with the bad. I woke up to a fourth day of rain, so no doubt my mood is affected by the wet, gray days. 

Rainy Days, Marathon
Rainy day, Marathon, 2020

I feel like Puddleglum in C.S. Lewis’s book, The Silver Chair, a prisoner of the Queen of Underland:

“Suppose we have only dreamed, or made up, all those things-trees and grass and sun and moon and stars and Aslan himself. Suppose we have. Then all I can say is that, in that case, the made-up things seem a good deal more important than the real ones. Suppose this black pit of a kingdom of yours is the only world. Well, it strikes me as a pretty poor one. And that’s a funny thing, when you come to think of it. We’re just babies making up a game, if you’re right. But four babies playing a game can make a play-world which licks your real world hollow. That’s why I’m going to stand by the play world. I’m on Aslan’s side even if there isn’t any Aslan to lead it. I’m going to live as like a Narnian as I can even if there isn’t any Narnia. So, thanking you kindly for our supper, if these two gentlemen and the young lady are ready, we’re leaving your court at once and setting out in the dark to spend our lives looking for Overland. Not that our lives will be very long, I should think; but that’s a small loss if the world’s as dull a place as you say.”

I know there is More. Bigger. Brighter. I’ve seen it, I’ve been there, and I’ve communed with other travelers in the Sunlit Lands. As I work on a second revision of my memoir (which feels as if it shall never be complete), I am reliving the memories, and whether I dreamed them up or not, I will allow myself to spend some time looking at pictures and longing for the beauty of the world. The rain will no doubt pass, and sunny days come again. I stored these memories for just such a dreary moment.

Rainbow, Prince Rupert Bay, Dominica
Rainbow, Dominica, 2016

Some random adventures mined from our flickr photostream

Bubble Bath
“Rachel’s Bubble Bath,” Bahamas, 2016
Mahi Catch
Sam with Jay and fresh-caught Mahi, 2016
Rachel, Leaving Anguilla
Rachel, sailing past Anguilla, 2016
Perch
Eli, St. Lucia, 2016
Sarah
Sarah, passage to Colombia 2016
Tanya with Big Tree
Tanya, cloud forest of Panama, 2017
Stingray City at Sunset
Family, sunset in Grand Cayman, 2018
Swimming with a Whale Shark
Swimming with whale sharks, Utilia, 2018
Waterfall Aaron 1
Aaron, waterfall in Jaguar preserve, Belize, 2018
Hiking Pacaya 1
Pacaya Volcano, Guatemala, 2019
Wakeboarding Lake Isabal
Wakeboarding, Lake Izabal, Guatemala 2019
Cenote Fun
Cenotes of the Yucatan, 2019

Blue, a poem

Ocean Sky

Tree shadow on a hot afternoon

A snow-sparkled field under full moon

The song of a whale heard far away

Soap bubbles blown on a cloudless day

Chromis darting in coral caves

A boat afloat on foaming waves

Brand-new eyes of baby’s first blink

A curling wave at the ocean’s brink

Sapphire stones in a velvet case

A blue-swirled marble in the dark of space—

Blue beneath and blue above:

I ask you then, what’s not to love?    

–Tanya Hackney, September 7, 2013

Tied Up: a Love-Hate Relationship with the Dock

Dock life

I love/hate being at a dock. Does anyone else feel this way? There are pros and cons to every mode of living on a boat: anchoring, mooring, docking, or hauling out and taking a trip.

It’s hurricane season and we’re in the Florida Keys. We’ve been on a mooring for a year, which is a long time for our boat to be in one place. We tied up to a seawall last weekend ahead of Laura to get out of the mooring field, where we felt vulnerable to storms (and the pinball effect of other boats dragging). We’re in a place where boats survived Irma, so we’re feeling secure for September.

We’ve got A/C, so I’m sleeping better, new neighbors who are friendly, and we’re taking evening walks. We’ll use the next few weeks to do a galley refit–appliances, sink, and counter-tops. Our older kids are able to come and go without arranging multiple dinghy trips ashore.

But…I miss the breeze, the sunsets, and the freedom and privacy of being our own island. Plus, mooring is less expensive! We knew there would be a period of time when our kids got close to independence when we would need to stay put for a while to help them get on their feet, but we certainly didn’t plan for a pandemic that would limit even opportunities to escape occasionally to the Bahamas. Being tied to a dock accentuates that loss of freedom.

So, we’ll appreciate the benefits of being tied to land for a few weeks, and when hurricane season is over, we’ll be happy to head back out!

Tour of the Interior of Take Two

Take Two is a custom wooden 48′ catamaran designed by Dirk Kremer and launched in the Netherlands in 1991. She was built for charter in the Virgin Islands, and we have the brochures to prove it! No, those two on the front are not Jay and Tanya (we were still in high school in 1991). And yes, that is a pretty accurate diagram of the floor plan.

Take Two charter brochure (1991)

We’ve been steadily improving the boat since we purchased her in 2008. While there are lots of pictures of our boat anchored in interesting places, we seldom post photos of the interior. If you’ve never been aboard, here’s a photographic tour of the inside! (Out of respect for my kids’ privacy, I tried not to take any invasive photos of their spaces.)

Cockpit
Cockpit
Galley
Galley
Salon table
Salon Table, “Bench” is an Edgestar Free-standing Fridge/Freezer
Nav station/desk
Navigation Station/Desk
Interior salon settee
Salon Settee
Port hull companionway/engine hatch stairs
Companionway to the Port Hull/Engine Hatch
Port aft cabin/Jay's office
Looking aft from engine hatch, Port Aft Cabin/Jay’s office
Port aft head
Port Head
Port forward locker (used to be a head)
Port Forward Hanging Locker (used to be a head)
Starboard aft cabin
Looking aft from starboard engine hatch, Aft Cabin
Starboard aft cabin lockers/desk
Starboard Aft Cabin, lockers/desk area
Starboard aft pantry (used to be a head)
Pantry, Starbord Aft (used to be a head)
Starboard hull, looking aft
Looking aft from Master Cabin, Toolbench and Starboard Engine hatch
Master cabin, starboard forward
Master Cabin, Starboard Forward
Master bunk (full)
Master Bunk (standard double bed)
Master his/hers lockers
Master Cabin His/Hers hanging lockers

Dry Tortugas 2015: From the Unposted Archives

Eli turns 19 this week and officially graduates from our homeschool when I send in his last evaluation. There won’t be a big party, or a family trip, but we’ll find a way to make it special. While circumstances limit our present opportunities, they can’t take our happy memories. Five years ago, we celebrated Eli’s birthday with a trip to Dry Tortugas National Park with friends. During that fun and busy summer, the photos never got posted.

Fort Jefferson, Dry Tortugas

It was an amazing week to share with close friends. Max and Mia joined us on the boat for the overnight passage from Marathon, and Amy and Kai joined us on the ferry from Key West. We spent several days touring the fort, playing hide-and-seek, snorkeling, diving and swimming off of Take Two, eating good food, and playing games. During this trip we adopted Amy’s expression, “take a cookie when the plate is passed,” meaning, “grab the good in life whenever you can because you don’t know what tomorrow holds.” I’m so glad we took the cookie!

Sunset Sail 2
Motoring into the sunset toward Key West with (L-R) Aaron, Max, Sarah, Mia, Rachel, Sam, and Eli
Sunset Sail
Gathering for the sunset on a passage is a long-standing tradition on Take Two…it was fun to share our travels and boat life with friends
Seaplane, Dry Tortugas
Upon arrival the next morning, the seaplane landed in the channel just ahead of us
Sooty Tern, Dry Tortugas
Sooty terns nest in large (and noisy) numbers on Garden Key…this one came for a short visit
Fort Jefferson, 2015
Kids entering Fort Jefferson (Civil-War-era fortification)
Junior Rangers, Dry Tortugas National Park
The kids got their Junior Ranger badges by doing an information scavenger hunt all over the fort
Cannon, Fort Jefferson
The obligatory kids-on-cannon photo opportunity
Hermitage, Dry Tortugas
Outside the fort, a palm tree stump made a perfect hermit-crab habitat
King of the Island
King of the Island
Rare Picture of Jay Relaxing, Dry Tortugas 2015
Rare photo of Jay, relaxing in the hammock
Kai and Rachel 2015
Two cuties: Rachel (4) and Kai (3)
Sunset, Loggerhead Key
Sunset over Loggerhead Key…we did a lot of snorkeling on the reef from the beach and on the Windjammer wreck nearby
Fun with Friends, Dry Tortugas 2015
Spaghetti dinner with Friends…eleven people in the cockpit!
Game of Risk
Game night
Birdmore
Upon returning to the dock, we found a tiny sea turtle that had been dropped by a bird, and we took it to the Turtle Hospital in Marathon…we will forever remember him as “Birdmore”

New Wheels

When I first returned to the United States, I felt a bit like a fish out of water. It seemed like I had been left behind by all my friends. I didn’t have a job or driver’s license or car or phone or computer, and they were all busy and connected. I also missed the life of relative freedom and adventure we’d left behind. Well, exactly one year has passed since then, and I still miss the travel, but I now have all the above-named things. Including the car. Especially the car. That’s right folks, Eli has wheels now.

Eli's truck

I’ve had a driver’s license for a while. I was almost 18 when we came back to the U.S., so I could get a license as soon as I could pass the test. Of course, mastering the use of a 5,000 lb. Chevy Suburban was no easy task for someone who had never driven before. Staying between the lines on the road was a delightful challenge, but parking was a dreaded ordeal. None of the three student drivers in our family was allowed to take the wheel when both parents and/or Rachel and Sam were in the vehicle: too many eggs in one speeding metal basket. So I had to schedule driving practice.

Eli Driving 2019

But I eventually got the hang of it. After a few months, I passed my driver’s test and got my license. I started being allowed to take the beloved family car to work (yes, I have a job now), to friends’ houses, and generally wherever I wanted to go. That is, as long as nobody else needed the car. In a family with seven different schedules, it wasn’t often.

I started shopping for a vehicle. Something durable, something that could haul cargo and people, something that looked cool and manly, and something that was not too expensive. A truck checked all the boxes. I was mostly shopping on Craigslist and Facebook, and Dad helped me find some good ones. I called people. Dad and I drove down U.S. 1 and looked at a few trucks. I eventually found one that looked sweet for my price range: a 2005 Dodge Ram 1500 with about a hundred thousand miles on it. We drove down to Key West, looked it over, and then bought it. Simple as that.

Eli's truck 2

I drove home with the radio (my radio) blaring the whole way. It was an interesting experience. On the one hand, I was several thousand dollars poorer. On the other, I was one Dodge Ram truck the richer. That was too weird a thought to get used to in the hour drive back to Marathon. It still seems strange.

The next day, Aaron and I went down to the DMV to get our plates. Aaron had all his paperwork in order, but I didn’t. After sitting in the hot sun with a mask on for an hour or so, it turned out that the guy I had bought the truck from had forgotten to sign the title. He was good enough to meet me halfway and save me an extra hour’s drive. I met him in Big Pine Key that afternoon and got the signature, cursing myself for not noticing the blank dotted lines the first time around.

I went back to the DMV to get my license plate. (Seriously, do they pay those people to be unpleasant? Granted, I can understand how sitting inside all day dealing with the endless procession of befuddled morons like me with only half their paperwork can be taxing.) The whole ordeal was an exercise in patience. But beyond that, it was actually kind of a cool experience. There I was, signing an application for a vehicle title like a real grownup. There I was, whipping out my debit card and paying hundreds of dollars in sales tax like it was nothing. Big boy stuff.

So now I’ve got wheels. It’s funny how it can take only a few months for the totally alien to become second nature. Parking was like that for me. It used to take me at least six tries to get the Suburban right where I wanted it. I practiced parking maneuvers for hours in the weeks preceding my driver’s test. Now, I just pull in like a boss and shift it into park. The same goes for a lot of the things I do now. Phones, cars, jobs: all that seemed like another world a year ago. Now they’re a part of my everyday life. The truck may be just another step towards the scary adult world, but it’s a pretty sweet one.

Boys and Trucks

Boys and Trucks
Eli’s 2005 Dodge Ram 1500 and Aaron’s 1994 Ford F-150

We’re entering a new era as a family: our first two boys (or should I say, men?) have recently acquired their first vehicles. Both chose trucks.

Eli found a good used truck in the Keys and drove down with Jay to complete the purchase this week and bring it home. It resembles the truck Jay used to own.

Aaron has a Ford fixer-upper–something he used to talk about when he was a little boy. He’s good with his hands, loves tools, and wants to spend the time (under the truck) to make it his own.

We’re very pleased to see them taking steps toward independence and proud of both of them.