tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68542546828491130392024-03-14T00:23:05.344-04:00Sailing CieloKevinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02517025447867284433noreply@blogger.comBlogger67125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6854254682849113039.post-74827397707809617102015-10-10T16:12:00.002-04:002015-10-10T16:12:42.217-04:00Such a Long, Long Time....<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
What a poor, sad, neglected blog this has been. I can't believe it's been 6+ years since our last post. This blog was only ever to be about travel, but still, we've been remiss posting a few minor things. Our wedding. Bringing Cielo up to the Chesapeake from Florida (750 miles of straight motoring in the Gulf Stream). Trekking in Nepal. Australia and South Africa. Getting poor lonely Cielo back in the water and up to Maine for the summer of 2013. And lots of dirt-dwelling in between.<br />
<br />
So why the post now, after six years of radio silence? Well, this:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zgf8xdtZzoM/VhlwOG9QADI/AAAAAAAAMU0/M7aI6MKRz0k/s1600/Occam%2527s%2BRazor_6_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zgf8xdtZzoM/VhlwOG9QADI/AAAAAAAAMU0/M7aI6MKRz0k/s400/Occam%2527s%2BRazor_6_1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
She is Occam's Razor. We decided to double-down and go for two hulls for our circumnavigation. Which has, logically, prompted this: <i><b>we're selling Cielo</b>.</i> It hurts to even read that, much less write it. But we take solace in the hope that our lovely, safe, trustworthy friend who has looked after us so well and shown us so much, that she will do the same for a new family. We've put so much love and work into her, and she is such a lovely vessel. She's spent far too much of the past six years resting on the hard for a boat that wants nothing but blue water. <br />
<br />
So if you know anyone looking for a boat to go cruising, point her to this: <a href="http://sailingcielo.com/sellingcielo">Selling Cielo</a>. She is almost perfect. We will miss her dearly.<br />
<br /><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Kevinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02517025447867284433noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6854254682849113039.post-4187120129735789522009-06-01T19:21:00.013-04:002011-04-18T04:48:26.659-04:00We're Back!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">On Monday we arrived in Miami Beach, our new home for the next couple years. We'll be leaving Cielo on the hard until later this year and will be heading north by land for the summer.<br />
<b><br />
Motoring With The Sails Up<br />
</b><br />
The trip from Isla Mujeres to Southeast Florida is notorious for being a painf<img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/P5230010-730858.JPG" style="float: right; height: 150px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 10px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; width: 200px;" />ul one. The Gulf Stream runs east at 3 knots, which would be good, except the Trade winds blow from the east at 15-20+ knots. Aside from the fact that you are trying to go east (and sail directly into the wind), the wind-against-current thing generates monstrously steep and choppy seas. So when we got a forecast for light Southerly winds instead of easterly Trades, we were so happy we nearly peed our pants. Turns out there was no reason to get excited.<br />
<br />
The forecasted wind never did materialize, but severe squalls with enough lighting to solve the world's energy crisis sure did. We motored virtually the entire way, with the mainsail up to slow our rolling in the leftover ocean swells. We motored all day, and dodged intense lightning s<img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/P5240092-774451.JPG" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 257px; margin: 0 10px 10px 0; width: 320px;" />torms all night. There's nothing quite so disconcerting as being in the middle of the ocean during a lightening storm with a 55 foot tall metal pole sticking out the top of your home. Had we both not been scared to death, we probably could have appreciated how spectacular the lightning was. Stunning displays of branching cloud to cloud and cloud to ground (water!) lit up the sky. The squalls themselves weren't bad - 30 knots or so and heavy rain - but the lightening was just too much. I wish I could have gotten some better pictures, but in addition to being on a rocking boat it turns out that a) lightning is pretty hard to predict, and b) those scientists weren't kidding about the speed of light - that stuff is FAST! So despite the fabulous light show, we had trouble capturing it on film.<br />
<br />
What we did capture on film though, finally, are good images and video of <img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/P5230050-739090.JPG" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 150px; margin: 0 0 10px 10px; width: 200px;" />dolphins playing in Cielo's bow wave (if you're getting the email version of this you won't see the YouTube video link - <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ydayqA2rk0o" target="_blank">click here</a> instead). After 2 years and over 10,000 miles, this is something that has never gotten old. We see dolphins often, and they just make you smile. They'll come rocketing in from who knows where, leaping clear of the water and clearly excited. They rush up to the bow of the boat and then zig and zag across Cielo's path, just inches from the bow. I have no idea why this is fun, but apparently it's like catnip to dolphins. I know we sure enjoy it. Sometimes they do it for only a couple minutes, once they stuck with us for almost an hour. It's one of a very long list of things I'm going to miss while we're on land for the next couple years. Maybe I can try to hug a Manatee instead.<br />
<br />
<div class="youtube-video"><object height="355" width="425"><param value="http://www.youtube.com/v/ydayqA2rk0o" name="movie"><param value="transparent" name="wmode"><embed wmode="transparent" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" src="http://www.youtube.com/v/ydayqA2rk0o" width="425" height="355"></embed> </object></div><br />
<b>We've Got A Live One Here...</b><br />
<br />
If you've been following our blog, you'll know that we've (ok, I've) become pretty obsessed with fishing. Not in a true angler-style, fishing just for sport kind of way, but more<img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/P5220001-736389.JPG" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 200px; margin: 0 10px 10px 0; width: 160px;" /> like a "damn there is a lot of sushi swimming around under me and I've got to do something about it" kind of way. Two years ago when we first started we couldn't catch anything. But I've learned a lot and by last year we progressed to hooking up a lot of fish and by this year we were hooking up lots of fish and landing most of them. We fish for meat, not sport, so there are three fish we focus on; Mahi-Mahi, Wahoo, and the prized tuna. The first day out the big reel starts screaming, I grab the rod, set the hook, and proceed to fight it in. After about a short five minute fight, we land a 20 lb tuna! The middle of the next day, the small reel gets a hit, and we land another fish, a 10 lb Mahi-Mahi this time. At this point, with the success we've been having, and with 15 pounds of fresh tuna steaks and Mahi fillets in the freezer we're feeling pretty bad-ass. I guess we were due for a setback.<br />
<br />
About two hours later, the big reel gets hit. The line is peeling off the reel by the yard, and even after stopping the boat it's all I can do to slow the fishes flight. This is by far the hardest fighting fish we've caught. At this point we don't know what's on the other end, but it feels like Moby Dick. Suddenly, a 4' Mahi-Mahi leaps clear of the surface! After thirty<img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/P5240075-775781.JPG" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 150px; margin: 0 0 10px 10px; width: 200px;" /> minutes of fighting so intense I was winded from it, we had the Mahi-Mahi alongside Cielo. Lizz was ready with the gaff and tail-rope, and I began to hand-leader the fish in (you can't reel the last bit of heavy line in, so you have to bring it in by hand - with gloves on of course!). This fish is a good 60 lbs, and once alongside the boat he gets an eyeball pointed my way and decides he doesn't like the look of me at all. He goes completely berserk, thrashing around and slamming his big head into the side of the boat. He nearly pulls me into the water - remember, I'm holding the line with my hands at this point - and it's all I can do to hold onto him. He manages to get his head down in the water and starts flailing his tail like a maniac, covering and drenching both Lizz and I with salt water. Then he gives one more massive yank...and he's gone. I'm left standing there, exhuasted and soaking wet, holding a straightend 7/0 hook (the top hook in the picture).<br />
<br />
The next day, idiot that I am, I put one fishing line back in the water - just for ha-has. In short order, the reel commences <img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/P5240076-758396.JPG" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 320px; margin: 0 10px 10px 0; width: 256px;" />to screaming. After the previous day's monster, this one feels like just a toy. Instead, it's another Mahi-Mahi - about 25 lbs this time. Lizz is ready with the vodka (we pour vodka on the fishes gills to calm and subdue them), and gives him a good dousing as soon as he is clear of the water. Everything seems fine - until I get him on the cabin top. Suddenly he goes ape-shit bananas, and over the next minute I proceed to get my ass whooped by a 25 lb fish. I couldn't even hold him down! He flopped and flailed and throughly thrashed me. After about a half-bottle of additional vodka he finally calmed down (I think he must have been Russian). Not that I blame either of the two fish for any of it. In addition to trying to kill them, I've killed a few of their friends and relatives. I deserved every bit of it and then some more. Still, it's a little embarrasing. It's one thing to get beat up by the school bully. I got beat up by a fish.<br />
<br />
<b>Thank God for Tall Buildings!<br />
<br />
</b>We were highly relieved to get ourselves anchored just next to Miami Beach, nestled between sets of tall buildings, as yet another lightning storm made its way through. I've been sleeping much better at night knowing we aren't the tallest thing for 300 miles around. It's good to be here for lots of reasons though, and we're very happy to be back. We have one more short trip of 120 miles before Cielo finds her home for the summer in Ft. Pierce, FL. Since we won't be out cruising we won't be posting much, if at all. We have a few "best of" posts we've never gotten together that we'll try to post, those may come in handy for anyone travelling anywhere in the Caribbean basin. Other than that, if you don't hear from us on the blog - pick up the phone, ours work again!<br />
<br />
Posted by: Kevin</div>Kevinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02517025447867284433noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6854254682849113039.post-36670051598976612282009-05-22T09:07:00.000-04:002015-06-17T12:59:42.360-04:00Detour<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
So we're in Isla Mujeres now. We left San Pedro, Belize<a href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/P5160104-708965.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/P5160104-708941.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 150px; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; width: 200px;" /></a> last Friday bound for Key West, but diverted here to avoid a potential tropical storm north of Cuba. You may notice a trend with this - on trips of more than 500 miles we're only 2 for 5 at hitting our intended destination on the first try. We're always at the mercy of weather. Still, this is a pretty nice place to be stuck for a bit - beautiful water and beaches, lots of good cheap food and drink and, miracle of miracles, good internet on the boat.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;">Previously on...</span><br />
<br />
Lizz's last post left off right after the departure of my friend<a href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/P5110030-726266.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/P5110030-726239.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 150px; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; width: 200px;" /></a> Scott and my enemy the Dengue Fever. After a couple of rough weeks Lizz and I were ready to get moving north and enjoy some of Belize along the way. With our target US-return date of June 1st looming, we wanted to try to see as much as we could. We had already decided to skip Mexico and focus on Belize, and so after fueling and watering in Placencia we set out for Belize's remote offshore atolls.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;">Caveat Emptor</span><br />
<br />
For those of you not familiar with cruising, a cruising guide is a book that contains crucial information relevant for anyone traveling the area by boat. Information on anchoring, clearing in/out, chart details for harbors and dangers, etc. This is critical information even in places where general information is easy to come by and chart data is good - like the United States. When you're outside the country and chart data is poor, the cruising guide becomes your lifeline. Cruising guides are almost always written by cruisers who appreciate this fact, and they are generally quite good.<br />
<br />
So it was with not a little dismay that we began to note some problems with our cruising guide to Belize. Islands were the wrong shape and size, waypoints weren't quite in the right place. Things were roughly correct, but coupled with the terrible quality of our chart data we were constantly on our toes. Unfortunately, we were about to find out just how bad the cruising guide really was.<br />
<br />
We were headed into the Turneffe Islands, a large atoll with a fringing reef and hundreds of islands inside. Much of the atoll is too shallow for most cruising <a href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/P5110049-726305.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/P5110049-726280.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 150px; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; width: 200px;" /></a>boats, but according to our cruising guide the entire southern section is navigable and can be accessed via two routes - a pass through the reef with minimum depths of 10 ft at low tide, and a channel in from the back with plenty of water for boats that draw up to 5' (Cielo draws 4'8", but we call it 5' to be safe). The text of the guide was specific, and reiterated what the chartlet showed. Conditions were moderate, so we planned to head in the reef pass and then out the back channel if conditions were rougher when we departed in a couple days.<br />
<br />
We approached the pass in perfect light and at mid-tide, went right up the middle, yet the depths seemed a little low. The pass is only about 50 yards wide, with waves breaking on the reef on either side, so there was no room for error. Still, the guide is current and the authors claim to have sounded this pass only a year ago. Coral doesn't grow fast, so it's not like things change much during one year in this part of the world. By this point, we're past the point of no return - you can't turn a 40 ft cruising boat around in a 50 yard wide pass with breakers on either side - so we're going in one way or another. In the middle of the pass the depth sounder read 7.5', and at the bottom of the next wave Cielo hit the bottom. Not hard, just kissed it, and then we were through. No harm done to the boat, a lot of harm to my nerves, and it meant one thing for certain - we weren't going to be able to get back out this pass unless conditions were incredibly calm. We were a little shaken (remember, this is our house we're driving around out here), but not overly concerned since we knew we could go out the back channel. Or so we thought.<br />
<br />
The next day we started heading toward the back channel. We had to cross a wide bar that our cruising guide authors insisted had 6' of water at low tide, but we couldn't find the 6'. We kept slowly nosing Cielo towards the bar, only to see the depths drop a<a href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/P5120078-776438.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/P5120078-776411.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 150px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 200px;" /></a>nd Cielo kiss the bottom. Time after time we tried, no luck. Finally we called the folks at the lodge on the island over the VHF radio. They said, yes, you should be able to get over that bar. Just go a bit further west and you'll be fine. We tried it, and ran aground. With 25 knots of wind pushing us onto the shoal, we were stuck. The nice folks from the lodge came out with a launch to try to pull us off, no luck. We spent the rest of the day trying to get Cielo free, to no avail. The best we were able to do was punch a hole in our new dinghy while setting an anchor to keep Cielo from being driven further onto the shoal. Tired and exhausted, we finally resigned ourselves to spending the night stuck on the shoal and waiting for the next high tide in the morning.<br />
<br />
By morning Cielo was floating free again, and we were ready to get the heck out of there. <a href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/P5170121-709010.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/P5170121-708979.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 200px; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; width: 150px;" /></a>We called the nice folks at the lodge again, and they generously offered to send a launch out to guide us over the bar at high tide. As we followed the launch along the bar, they indicated we should begin our turn and head over the bar. Cielo's depth sounder strongly disagreed. I figured the folks on the launch knew this water as well as anyone, gritted my teeth, and began the turn. The depth dropped and Cielo came to a full stop, once again aground. Only this time we were even harder aground, and at high tide no less. Not good. This was going to require more drastic measures. The folks on the launch took one of our halyards (the lines that pull the sails up to the top of the mast), tied another long line to it, and then used the 200HP launch to pull Cielo down by the masthead until she was heeled so far over that we were floating and free. Lizz and I drove Cielo off the shoal at a 35 degree angle, heeled so far that the starboard side deck wash awash.<br />
<br />
Though we were happy to be free and moving again, we weren't looking forward to spending a week or more sitting in the lagoon waiting for conditions to calm enough for us to get back out the dangerous reef pass we had come in. Fortunately for us, the folks at the lodge had different plans. While we were still heeled over at 35 degrees, they began gesturing wildly that we should turn left - over the shoal again. They proceeded to escort us, line still attached to the masthead, over the shoal and out the back channel - a distance of almost 3 miles. Cielo looked like she hadn't had her V8 in years, but it worked like a charm!<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;">Caye Caulker</span><br />
<br />
Finally free of the Turneffe Islands, we sailed<a href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/P5120077-776397.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/P5120077-776367.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 200px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 150px;" /></a> back inside Belize's barrier reef and made a beeline for Caye Caulker. Still a bit gun (or ground) shy from the previous days, we found the shallow water inside the northern reef a bit nerve-wracking. We spent the majority of the 35 mile sail moving at 7 knots in water less than 7 feet deep. The water was so shallow that, at those speeds, Cielo's turbulence kicked up a trail of mud behind us that was miles long. Caye Caulker and San Pedro, a bit further north, were a welcome change after the week's adventures. Calm anchorages, easy access to stores, restaurants, and internet, and all with a relaxing pace and atmosphere. It was a great place to cap off our season before heading home to the US. Or so we thought.<br />
<br />
Only 24 hours after leaving San Pedro headed for the US, our weather forecast became quite uncertain due to the potential tropical storm, so it turned out we wouldn't be skipping Mexico after all. After a week in Isla Mujeres and with the low pressure system safely drifting toward the US Gulf Coast, we will be leaving today to head directly to Miami. With any luck, our next post will be from lovely South Beach, our new home for a while.<br />
<br />
Posted by: Kevin</div>
Kevinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02517025447867284433noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6854254682849113039.post-4217677442580148352009-05-10T10:27:00.012-04:002009-05-13T12:12:04.158-04:00When Bad Things Happen to Good PeopleBelize is a beautiful country, with crystal clear water for snorkeling<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/P4230095-737026.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/P4230095-737000.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a> and diving, hundreds of white sand islands to explore and great sailing (relatively consistent trade winds but little seas because of the protective barrier reef that runs along most of the country). While we've thoroughly enjoyed all of these aspects of Belize, we've also had some other experiences here that have made our visit memorable, but not so much in a good way.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Belize-imo</span><br /><br />Belize was a sight for sore eyes...sore, because they'd been stinging from the sweat that had been incessantly dripping into them for the last week that we were back in the Rio Dulce after our travels inland. As soon as we cleared customs in Guatemala and headed out of Livingston, we were once again able to enjoy anchoring out in cooling sea breezes and swimming off the side of the boat in the clear blue water of the Caribbean Sea, as opposed to the murky waters of the Rio Dulce.<br /><br />Traveling with our new friends from South Africa, Tamara and Warren, we spent our first few days in Belize enjoying some really fantastic snorkeling, while visiting a different set of islands along the southern part of the country each day. Our best day of s<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/P4230071-701902.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 161px;" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/P4230071-701868.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a>norkeling included spotting two sting rays (one of which was a spotted eagle ray, which are relatively rare) and our first nurse shark. Yes, I spotted a shark, which honestly, scared the crap out of me, even when I learned that nurse sharks are generally more scared of people that we are of them, and also have rounded, rather than sharp teeth. Plus they pretty much sleep all the time. Still, I imagine it’d hurt like hell if one decided to bite you. We capped off our visit with Tam and Warren in Placencia and said good-bye to them over a truly sumptuous dinner at a funky French restaurant that could have competed in quality and style with any number of great restaurants elsewhere.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Old friend, New ailment</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/IMG_2798-737043.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/IMG_2798-737039.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a>The next evening, our newest guest arrived, this time, a friend of Kevin’s from high school and college. Kevin and Scott hadn’t seen each other in nearly two years, but picked up right where they left off over numerous happy hour rum and cokes. It was no surprise then that Kevin woke up the next day with a pounding head ache and a feeling of general malaise…it seemed pretty clear that he was suffering from a cheap rum hangover, so we had no reason to reconsider our plan to head out of Placencia, a town on the mainland, to visit some of the islands lining Belize’s coast.<br /><br />That evening, after a great day of sailing, we arrived in Cary Cay. Kevin still felt lousy, so we decided to start him on some antibiotics, figuring that he was fighting some leftover Guatemalan germs that we could blast with drugs. The next morning, Kevin thought that the antibiotics were starting to work and would surely start to work better soon so we decided to sail another 10 miles northeast to the Pelican Cays, a deserted set of mangrove islands near the edge of the barrier reef. At one point, I suggested that perhaps we should select an inhabited island, in case Kevin got sicker, but I was assured that it wouldn't be a problem. Of course it was.<br /><br />Monday night we consulted our on-board medical guide, “Where There is No Doctor” to figure out what could possibly be wrong since Kevin continues to get worse, and is now contending with a fever that seems to spike and break at irregular intervals. The list of potential ailments includes hepatitis, malaria, Dengue fever and meningitis, none of which sounds particularly appealing. Since Kevin can put his head between his knees, which our book tells us is a good test for meningitis; we rule it out (with much relief) and focus on the remainder of the list. Given what we know about Guatemala, we figure that Kevin likely has malaria and begin to treat him, as our book suggests, with massive doses of chloroquine. If you have ever taken chloroquine for travels to malaria-prone regions, you can image the impact that 5 weeks worth of doses in 48 hours can have on a person. Highlights included projectile vomiting, hallucinations, and generally feeling like you want to die – some treatment!<br /><br />By some miracle of technology, we manage to get a cell signal from Scott’s phone on Tuesday morning, and make what must have been $50 worth of phone calls to the US. We are fortunate in my family to have two doctors (my father and brother) and a nurse practitioner (my step-mom) and finally manage to get my brother on the phone. He confirms the likelihood of our diagnosis and tells us that 1) Kevin may get worse before he gets better (awesome) and 2) that if his fever continues, we’d better get him to a doctor. We consider sailing back to Placencia on Tuesday, but are thwarted by the weather. We really need decent sunlight to navigate through the many coral heads that litter our route back to Placencia, and the skies remain cloudy for the rest of the day.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">One hell of a day</span><br /><br />On Wednesday morning, Kevin still feels terrible, and we have no choice but to promote me to captain (yikes) for the nearly 20 mile sail back to Placencia. After two years of living aboard Cielo, you’d figure this wouldn’t be a big deal, but I’ve never actually been completely in charge of the boat and considering we have crappy charts, less than ideal light and many shallow spots to contend with, I don’t really feel like I have the most favorable conditions for my debut. After a bit of a struggle getting the anchor up, Scott and I are able to successfully motor-sail back to the mainland in just under three hours and have the boat anchored down in Placencia by 11:00 a.m.<br /><br />Thankful to have arrived in one piece, we set about getting Kevin to the health clinic in town, but arrive only to find that the clinic doctor is away in the town of Dangriga, an hour’s drive (or two hour bus ride) away. The nurse who sees Kevin rec<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/IMG_2722-701927.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/IMG_2722-701917.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a>ommends that we get him to the hospital as soon as possible and indicates that there’s a bus leaving in a few hours that will get us there by late afternoon. Even in good health, bus rides through Central America can take quite a toll, so we immediately begin looking for another option. Fortunately, we run into one of the women who works at the Placencia tourist office and explain our situation. She springs into action, calling the airport to reserve two seats on the next plane to Dangriga and flagging down a friend on the street who can drive us to the airport. Within 15 minutes we are sitting at the airport, tickets in hand, waiting for our 20 minute flight for Dangriga to depart. As we’re waiting for the plane, we catch a glimpse of CNN news on the waiting room television and learn of Mexico’s swine flu epidemic. As the other passengers watch the story and then catch a glimpse of Kevin’s frighteningly sickly appearance, they quickly change seats, leaving us the waiting room all to ourselves.<br /><br />Finally, we board the plane and endure a terrifying flight in a tiny tin can during which time, I begin to look as pale and sweaty as Kevin. Thankfully, the flight is short, and 30 minutes after take off, we’ve not only landed, but have taken the taxi they had waiting for us and have arrived at the public hospital in Dangriga. Apparently, swine flu is the major concern of the day and Kevin and all those coming into contact with him are masked up within 30 <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/IMG_2935-745869.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/IMG_2935-745863.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a>seconds of our arrival. Amazingly, Kevin doesn’t have to wait at all for care, and is immediately given a bed and his first bag (of four) IV fluids. However, though we’re happy to be at the hospital, Kevin is still in terrible pain and other than taking some blood to have a malaria test done, he’s not getting any further care. I ask the nurse to give him something for the terrible pain in his head and she gives him a butt shot of some sort of painkiller that does absolutely nothing. 20 minutes later, he’s still groaning and is also becoming agitated as he begins to feel like there’s something desperately wrong with him, and there’s no one at the hospital able to give him the care that he needs. Taking matters into my own hands, I flag down the attending physician and explain to him that 1) Kevin is in debilitating pain and 2) he is making it worse by freaking out cause he thinks he’s going to die, so could he please have some more drugs, and this time, perhaps ones that include a sedative as well? About an hour later, once the nurse is able to locate the key to the locked cabinet where the strong drugs are kept, Kevin finally gets the meds that he needs. His headache begins to feel manageable and evidently the sedative begins to work, as his whole body begins to tingle and he stops worrying aloud that something is “seriously, seriously wrong”. I begin to wonder if I could convince them to sedate me as well.<br /><br />By this time, it’s nearly 5:00 in the evening, and we’re informed that Kevin’s malaria test has come back negative, but that they’d like to get him tested for Dengue fever, which they’re unable to do from the hospital. So, they take more blood and set about the process of getting it sent out for testing. Around 6:00 I go out to use the phone to call Scott and give him an update, but when I return, Kevin has been moved.<br /><br />“He’s been admitted” I’m told by an orderly and he offers to take me to the “male ward” where Kevin is now laid up in a bed in close proximity to four fellows who <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/IMG_2931-745850.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/IMG_2931-745847.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a>are looking mighty sick and more than a little contagious. I soon learn that the doctor was unable to get the Dengue test sent out, so he’s suggesting that Kevin stay overnight so that they can take more blood and try and get him tested the following day. At this point though, Kevin is starting to feel human from all of the IV fluids and pain meds, and we decide that it may be more comfortable for him back on Cielo, rather than in the Petri dish that is the room in which he’s been located. I go outside to find out about transportation back to Placencia, only to find out that the last bus and plane left shortly after 5:00, and that we are in fact stuck in Dangriga until the following morning. Not cool at all.<br /><br />It is at this point that I lose it, realizing that we have to spend the night in a place that provides no towels or toilet paper or tooth brushes—all things that I’d really like access to if I am going to be forced to sleep over. I call Scott to let him know that we won’t be able to make it home, when it occurs to me that if there’s anyone who can finagle a way to get us home that night, it’ll be Scott. I explain the problem and when I call him back 20 minutes later, he’s on his way with a cab driver who’s agreed to drive from Placencia to pick us up. I should also mention at this point that our decision to leave the hospital was based on the fact that 1) We’d already treated Kevin with a full course of malaria meds, so if that’s what it’d been, it was gone, or nearly so and 2) that if he had Dengue, there’s nothing that the hospital could do that we couldn’t since there isn’t a cure for it, and since for pain, they weren’t able to give him anything stronger than Tylenol in the main ward—we had stronger pain killers on board.<br /><br />Scott arrives by 8:30 and Kevin is permitted to sign himself out of the hospital, though it’s clear that the nurses on duty think we should stay. I head to the front desk to find out how much we owe for his day at the hospital that included four IV bags, two pain injections, a set of X-rays and overall, very attentive care. I’m told that we don’t owe anything. Kind of makes bringing your own toilet paper not such a big deal.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Bumps Along the Road to Recovery </span><br /><br />Kevin has been feeling much better now for about a week now, though he did suffer a short relapse of fever and hallucinations the night after we got back fro<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/P5090045-776662.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/P5090045-776635.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a>m the hospital. And after talking with my dad and with some folks from Guatemala who told us that Dengue was on the rise there, we’re pretty sure that’s what he had. We were finally able to leave Placencia and enjoy great sailing and snorkeling with Scott before he flew out last Monday and for the past few days, Kevin have been anchored off of Cay Caulker with flat calm water, internet access from the boat, and plenty to do ashore….which is a good thing after the calamity we experienced traveling up to Cay Caulker..but I’ll let Kevin give you the details in the next entry….Lizzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04989670315581833824noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6854254682849113039.post-23250405970490667962009-05-09T12:41:00.000-04:002009-05-10T01:13:46.962-04:00Catching Up<span>This post was first drafted on our last day in the Rio Dulce area of Guatemala, more than 3 weeks ago. We didn't manage to get it posted before we left, so it is more than a little delayed. We've covered a lot of ground since then, some of it painful and all of it interesting, so hopefully the next two posts will get everyone caught up.</span> Also, the pictures from the previous post are now posted to the "photos" section of the site....<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold;">Antigua</span>,<span style="font-weight: bold;"> Guatemala</span><br /><br />Until reaching Antigua, what we'd seen of Guatemala consisted of <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/P4040126-735290.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/P4040126-735267.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a>the slightly run down, hot and dusty towns of Flores and Fronteras, so we were pretty thrilled upon reaching Antigua. We'd heard it was a cool town, but weren't prepared for the cobbled streets, ethnic restaurants, bars, cafes, and general European feel to the city. Not to mention the mercifully cool weather. After the insane temperatures of Rio and Flores, the 50 degree nights of the Western Highlands of Guatemala felt like heaven!<br /><br />Antigua is the original Capital city of Guatemala, and still would be were it not for the unfortunate geological fact of being surrounded by volcanoes. Apparently its forefathers weren't the most fore thinking, if you get our drift. While in Antigua we hike<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/P4030102-791968.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 160px;" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/P4030102-791942.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a>d the nearby Pacaya volcano, the most active volcano in Central America. The hike would have been easy, except I had been crippled by less-than-vigilant dietary habits over the previous few days. Nevertheless, I was motivated by the fact that Pacaya had experienced a significant eruption the night before, and fresh lava flows beckoned. Unfortunately, our group dawdled a bit too much on the way to the top, and the park rangers caught us from behind and prevented us from climbing to the very top. "Too dangerous", they claimed. Prudes. My dreams of poking my walking stick into molten lava dashed, we were forced to admire the lava flows from more than a 100 yards away while roasting marshmallows over the ground. Stand still in one spot too long and the ground would melt your shoes. It was like being miniature people in a large gas grill!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Back to School</span><br /><br />After Antigua we headed to Xela, even higher up in the Western Highlands, for a week of language school. We chose Xela for its lack of English speakers, knowing it would force us to use nothing but Spanish. It was a nice idea, but how incredibly exhausting! We enjoyed 5 hours per day of one-on-one instruction, materials, three meals a day, and a home-stay with a local family for the grand total of $140 per person for the whole week. Hard to beat that kind of educational bargain. Of course, there were a few minor inconveniences, like the bathroom that lacked a light, and hot water! Still, it was an experience we wouldn't trade for <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/P4100144-756639.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/P4100144-756612.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a>anything.<br /><br />While we were in Xela, Semana Santa (Holy Week) was in progress. The streets were completely shut down and filled with Alfombras (religious iconography painted on the street like a carpet with dyed sawdust) and parades reenacting the crucifixion of Jesus. For those of you who haven't been to Central America recently, Jesus is big there. It was quite a production.<br /><br />After our week of language school, we decided to try to soothe our incessant stomach ailments with a trip to the hot sulfur springs of Fuentes Georginas. Wow are these puppies hot. The hottest jacuzzi on the planet is tepid bath water compared to these suckers! Of course, we had to share them with about 300 of our closest Guatemalan friends, all of whom decided to pee in the water judging by the infection I got in a cut on my toe. Still, it was a beautiful and refreshing experience.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Relaxing on Lake Atitlan</span><br /><br />We capped off our inland Guatemala travels with a few days in beautiful lake Atitlan. We splurged on our nicest hotel experience in Guatemala (a whopping US$25/night), ate wonderful meals, enjoyed one of the coolest bars on the planet (Zoo La), and <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/P4130200-717499.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/P4130200-717476.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a>kayaked about the lake. Thinking we'd get soft if we didn't do something active, we decided to hike up the San Pedro volcano on Easter Day. Three hours to the top, we were told, a lovely hike with great views. Three hours my ass. Lizz and myself, relatively fresh off a half-marathon, were joined by two 6'2" Germans and a 6'4" Australian who had just run a 60 mile (yes, 60 MILE) race. We all nearly died. Turns out the 3 hour "hike" was over 3000 feet of vertical, damn near straight up, and all at altitude. It took us almost four hours to reach the top, and I think it cost me a lung. At one point Lizz asked that we leave her to die. I don't know who makes it in three hours, but I know everyone in our group would like to meet these people, and would love to know what planet they are from.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Back to the Rio, off to Belize<br /></span><br />After a juanty 8 hour chicken bus ride we were back in balmy (searing) Rio Dulce. While we had a great time in Guatemala, we were both ecstatic to get back to white sand and clear water. Our new friends Warren and Tam joined us as we cleared out of Guatemala and headed up through the southern cays of Belize's barrier reef. We were on our way to Plancencia to meet my friend Scott, and we had absolutely no idea of the adventures that awaited us. Lizz will fill you in on those details shortly.....<br /><br />posted by: KevinLizzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04989670315581833824noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6854254682849113039.post-38031411115174997132009-05-02T14:52:00.030-04:002009-05-03T13:45:37.960-04:00The Perfect Vacation<a href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/IMG_2283-780858.JPG"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 133px" alt="" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/IMG_2283-780334.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div><br /></div><div><em></em></div><div><em></em></div><div align="left"><em></em></div><div align="left"><em></em></div><div align="left"><em>Guest Blog Author: Lee Boykoff</em></div><div><br /></div><div>It has been several weeks since Lizz & Kevin last posted, so I figured now would be an appropriate time to share the highlights of our week on Cielo in early March. </div><div><br /></div><div>After an unsuccesful attempt to meet-up with L&K in Martinique in March of '08, Petra and I used our credit on American Airlines to book a trip in March '09 from New York to Roatan, Honduras. Given that the Beach Boys failed to mention any of The Bay Islands in the 1988 classic "<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7rBjpjEAi24">Kokomo</a>," and that my skin complexion is one shade <a href="http://www.funnyordie.com/videos/0ac70b2244/pale-force-episode-5-wconan-obrien-from-paleforce">lighter</a> than <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ugk37TvIR8E">Conan O'Brien</a>, you can imagine what a supreme expert I was on Carribbean geography before booking the trip. Despite my naivite, that voice inside my head still thought it was "too good to be true" when we scored round-trip tickets from New York to San Pedro Sula for $250 (including tax). Well, you get what you pay for- After a 12 hours journey that included 4 flights (New York > Miami > San Pedro Sula > La Ceiba > Roatan) and a dual engine prop plane from the early 70s that was <em>literally</em> held together by Duct tape, we finally arrived in tropical paradise. It wasn't until early the next morning when we saw a 747 landing on the island that we realized Continental Airlines offered weekly 4.5 hour <a href="http://www.redorbit.com/news/business/615576/continental_airlines_announces_new_nonstop_service_between_new_york_and/index.html">non-stop service between Newark and Roatan</a>. Oops.</div><div><br /></div><div>With that minor inconvenience out of the way, every other aspect of our trip was amazing. Petra and I had never spent an extended period of time on a boat. Rather than detail the chronology of each major event on our trip, we'd like to share 10 insights with you about life on Cielo, in the Bay Islands, with two of our favorite people on the planet: <a href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/IMG_2635-784080.JPG"><img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 133px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/IMG_2635-783570.JPG" border="0" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>1. <a href="http://www.lonelyplanet.com/honduras/bay-islands">The Bay Islands </a>are an absolutely phenomenal place to vacation. Of the roughly 420 million islands that Lizz and Kevin have visited over the previous two years, they ranked The Bay Islands at the very top of their list... in a tie with the frequently mentioned <a href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/2008/03/dominica.html">Dominica</a>. Now at the time we were there, L&K had yet to experience the legendary <a href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/2009/04/inland-travel.html">chicken buses of Guatemala</a>... so it's possible that their rankings have since changed.</div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><br /><br /><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>What set th<a href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/IMG_2399-748253.JPG"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 133px" alt="" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/IMG_2399-747744.JPG" border="0" /></a>e Bay Islands apart from other islands in the Caribbean? Well of course there were white sandy beaches, picteresque sunsets, crystal clear ocean water, tropical beverages and rooftop bars playing <a href="http://www.biography.com/deathiversary/bob-marley/bob-marley.jsp">Bob Marley</a>... but that's really standard in that part of the world. What's really unique about The Bay Islands is its offering of world-class scuba diving and snorkeling in a region that is undeveloped, uncrowded, unpretentious and in many ways still undiscovered. The locals (and even the tourists) are friendly and laid back, and the culture is an interesting blend of Carribbean, Latin and British. A truly perfect escape from New York City!</div><div><br /></div><div></div><div></div><div>2. We ate like kings. While Kevin has retained his title of master fisherman and<a href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/IMG_2214-776982.JPG"><img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 133px" alt="" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/IMG_2214-776446.JPG" border="0" /></a> outdoor grilling champion, Lizz has evolved into a gourmet chef. Seriously! One big trip to the local supermarket with 2-3 visits to the fruit stand on the corner was all we needed to keep Cielo fully stocked. With Lizz as our culinary captain and Petra as sous chef, we devoured multi-course lunches and dinners all week long.</div><div><br /></div><div>3. Kevin has now officially surpassed <a href="http://www.cbs.com/classics/macgyver/">MacGyver</a> as the most resourceful person/character on the planet. In only 7 days, he narrowly averted 4 different crises: (a) A fierce late-night wind storm dragged the fully anchored Cielo (and all of the boats around us) 50+ feet from our original position, causing Kevin to sprint out of bed, reposition, and re-anchor in total darkness at 2am, (b) I awoke one morning to what looked like a 5th grade science project gone awry. Our water maker had broke (was Cielo in labor?) and Kevin reconfigured the desalinator using a rubber band, some chewing gum, and a warped copy of <a href="http://www.airsupply-online.com/">Air Supply's </a>Greatest Hits on vinyl (no one had listened to the album in the last 15 years anyway), (c) In Cayos Cochinos we were forced to anchor the boat to a mooring... that was 20 feet underwater with no line. Kevin dove down to the bottom of the ocean to secure Cielo and emerged 7 minutes later just as <a href="http://www.davidblaine.com/">David Blaine</a> had arrive to ensure that his <a href="http://tierneylab.blogs.nytimes.com/2008/04/30/david-blaine-sets-breath-holding-record/?hp">world record </a>for holding one's breath under water would be not be broken, (d) M<a href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/IMG_2618-735278.JPG"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 133px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/IMG_2618-734775.JPG" border="0" /></a>ost impressively, one of our anchor chain's got knotted and completely stuck in the pipe that feeds it from the interior of the bow to the top side of the boat. To get the knot out of the line, Kevin had to wedge himself through the 2'x2' hatch in the forward head to completely disassemble the piping. Of course several of the nuts and bolts had been stripped, so the process required kevin to pull out his blow torch, soldering iron, a jackhammer, two backhoes, and an excavator. When that failed, he used is bare hands... which after a few scrapes, cuts, bruises and four letter words did the trick.</div><div><br /></div><div>4. After living in a one bedroom apartment in Manhattan, our week on Cielo actually felt spacious. With two cabins and two heads on the boat, there wasn't a single time in our 7 day trip in which Petra and I felt cramped. Amazing!</div><div><br /></div><div>5. Honduras + Boat = Most affordable tropical vacation ever! We spent almost no money. While the Bay Islands are more developed than most places in the third world, mainland Honduras is very much a developing country. Accordingly, the U.S. dollar goes a long way when converted to Honduran Lempira. With no lodging expenses (thanks to Cielo), no car rental required (thanks to the dingy), food from the grocery store, and $1 beers at the local bars, we may have spent less money on our vacation than we would have at home in New York.</div><div><a href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/IMG_2596-701639.JPG"><img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 133px" alt="" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/IMG_2596-701160.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /></div><div>6. Lizz can speak Spanish. Who knew? Her enthusiasm and dedication for learning a new language were seriously impressive. I'll be writing a thank you note to <a href="http://www.rosettastone.com/">Rosetta Stone </a>shortly after I finish this post.</div><div><br /></div><div>7. Despite insisting that she is less passionate about music than many of her friends, Lizz is seriously obsessed with the <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BCyKcwvV5gE">Piano Man</a>. Don't believe me? Just ask about a certain video that is soon to appear on YouTube.</div><div><br /></div><div>8. In a world in which climate change is spinning out of control, there is something truly gratifying about the autonomy and efficiency of sailing. Harnessing wind power to hop from island to island, solar power to charge our electronics, a fishing rod and a water maker to provide our sustenance, and a snorkel mask and fins to fuel our entertainment, we dramatically reduced our impact on the planet. Wicked cool.</div><div><br /></div><div>9. Cayos Coc<a href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/IMG_2497-727100.JPG"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 133px" alt="" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/IMG_2497-726546.JPG" border="0" /></a>hinos is one of the most beautiful places on earth. With out our own boat, we never would have had the opportunity to explore this collection of islands south of Roatan. This was far and away the highlight of our trip. If you have not had the chance, I highly recommend checking out our <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/kevinandlizz/BayIslandsHonduras#">photos</a>.</div><div></div><div><br /></div><div></div><div></div><div><a href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/IMG_2473-775723.JPG"><img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 133px" alt="" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/IMG_2473-775265.JPG" border="0" /></a></div><div></div><div>10. Lizz and Kevin are two of the warmest and most generous people we know. We felt honored to have had the opportunity to share a week with them on Cielo in Honduras, and are looking forward to see everyone at their <a href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/wedding.html">wedding</a> this Fall!<br /></div><div></div>Kevinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02517025447867284433noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6854254682849113039.post-58863061608372131282009-04-01T17:28:00.007-04:002009-04-04T19:50:42.289-04:00Inland Travel<span style="font-style: italic;">Note: Kevin and I are now on the second leg our our inland travel and will be away from the boat for the next two weeks or so, and someone left on the boat the cord that allows us to get pictures off our camara and onto the blog...and I'm not naming names, but it was Kevin...of course, someone else agreed to pack Kevin's bag and forgot the shoes he'd wanted...and I'm not naming names, but it was me....So, this means that our blogs won't have pictures until we get back to Cielo and when we do post our pics, Kevin's shoes won't match the rest of his outfits...but I'm sure, dear reader, you'll find it in your hearts to forgive us on both counts...</span><br /><br />Because we've mostly been visiting islands, it hasn't really been necessary for Kevin and I to do much inland travel. However, since there are so many amazing sites scattered throughout Guatemala, we've decided to spend most of our time here off the boat, exploring the country by bus, and basically living as backpackers. Though our first three day inland trek to Flores and the ruins of Tikal was pretty fantastic, I was reminded why it's been such a luxury to date to travel in a way that has allowed us to make our own schedule, eat food from our own fridge and sleep in our own bed.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Sardine Buses</span><br /><br />Guatemala travel guides wax poetic about the experience of taking the "chicken buses", which is the mode of transport used by locals to get around the country. The buses were so named because in decades past, riders would often share their seats with just about anything that could be crammed onto the buses, including, you guessed it, chickens. Our Lonely Planet gushes that these buses will, "leave you with some of your most vivid memories of the country." Sounds kinda romantic, and like a do-not-miss, right? Not so much. In fact, after having ridden a "chicken bus" for a total of nine hours between Rio Dulce and Flores, I humbly submit my suggested edits to the Lonely Planet section on bus travel...<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">"Traveling via chicken bus in Guatemala will expose you to how locals here are forced to travel. Inside these buses it is hot, (and by hot, I mean, add 15 degrees to the warmest you've ever felt waiting in a NYC subway station in August), there are no toilets and people are packed in like sardines, with four in a seat meant for two, and aisles crammed with the poor folks who got on too late to snag a seat. The buses themselves are old and rickety and probably wouldn't have passed US safety standards when they were 15 years younger."<br /></span><br />That said, the prices are exceedingly cheap, and if none of these things bothers you too much, it's not a bad way to go...assuming you can grab a seat, don't have to pee, and aren't concerned about whether you live or die.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">And we thought it was hot on the bus...</span><br /><br />The town of Flores is where most people stay in order to visit the Mayan ruins of Tikal. Though one can stay in Tikal itself, the hotel rooms there are considerably more expensive and since we'd heard Flores was charming, we decided we'd give it a try. Once dropped off, we found a serviceable budget hotel towards the center of town for $12/night and a great late lunch spot where we enjoyed chicken, rice, tortillas, and several margaritas. All was well, except for the fact that it was approximately 100 million degrees when we arrived and cooled off only to about 99 million degrees by the time we were ready to go to bed. Evidently, April-May are the hottest months of the year in Guatemala and things tend to get pretty unbearable starting in late March...who knew? Obviously, there is no air conditioning at a $12/night hotel, so we basically passed the night lying awake and sweating, getting up occasionally to re-wet the towels we'd draped across ourselves in a lame attempt to stay cool.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Tikal</span><br /><br />The next morning at 4:00 a.m. when we awoke to catch the shuttle to Tikal, it was mercifully much cooler, and seeing the fantastic Mayan ruins nestled in the jungle made the prior day's bus ride and long night at the hotel absolutely worth it. We arrived at the park just as it opened at 6 a.m. and were thrilled to see that we pretty much had the place to ourselves--in terms of humans anyway. We were definitely not alone in terms of animals as evidenced by the cacophony of bird songs that were punctuated at intervals by what sounded like the roaring of lions. Kevin and I had been told that the howler monkeys that inhabit the park make an unmistakable yell, but even so, I wasn't prepared for just how loud and ferocious they sounded. We have pictures of the monkeys and the ruins that we'll share once we're back at the boat, and I'll hold off on writing more about the experience until I can provide some visuals of the absolutely amazing things we saw.<br /><br />By noon, we'd gotten to see of the major ruins at Tikal, and since it was starting to become unbearably hot, decided to head back to Flores and spend the rest of the afternoon catching up on our reading while enjoying the delicious licuados (fruit shakes made with fresh fruit and either milk or water) that are sold in just about every restaurant all over Guatemala. The rest of our time in Flores was uneventful, and our bus ride home, much better than on the way up, since we were able to get seats and the weather had cooled a bit by Monday morning when we left. All in all, a pretty great trip...except for the one souvenir I hadn't planned on bringing back.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">And then there's the Revenge</span><br /><br />So...remember that licuado I just wrote about...well, I ordered mine with water and Kevin got his with milk and I forgot to ask that it was "water purificada". Most restaurants, especially those in tourist areas do this automatically, but evidently not so at the one we visited the night before we left Flores. I will spare you the details on what happened to me on Monday evening, but merely mention that it was incredibly unpleasant and that I have yet to shake it completely...no pun intended.<br /><br />Posted by: LizzLizzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04989670315581833824noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6854254682849113039.post-50224731487915464252009-03-27T13:20:00.006-04:002009-03-27T22:20:04.310-04:00Welcome to the JungleLord in heaven it is hot here. Two days ago we arrived in Rio Dulce (town), Guatemala, 22 miles up the Rio Dulce (river) and we were greeted by staggering heat and blistering sun. Sun so hot you couldn't walk on the deck without scorching your feet, and so strong I burned with SPF 50 sunblock on. Heat aside, this is already proving to be a wonderful and fascinating place.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Tunny Tim & Other Critters</span><br /><br />We've had <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/P3210005-741730.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 160px;" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/P3210005-741701.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a>lots of quality time with quite a wide variety of wildlife of late. Before leaving Utila, we stopped at one of the coolest bars on the planet - Treetanic at the <a href="http://www.jadeseahorse.com/">Jade Seahorse</a>. Treetanic is really cool except for one really creepy bit - gigantic spiders, everywhere. Our last meal in Utila we shared<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/P3210008-755525.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/P3210008-755500.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a> a restaurant with what appeared to be large nocturnal hummingbirds...until we snapped a picture and took a closer look! Yikes. In just the time we ate dinner they emptied half of the hummingbird feeder. En route from Utila to Puerto Escondido on the Honduran mainland we caught a (tiny) Little Tunny. He may have been only 3 lbs but tuna is tuna. Nothing really strange about him, but he did make a tasty ceviche!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Clearing in</span><br /><br />When we arrived in Livingston, Guatemala at the mouth of the Rio Dulce, we were promptly greeted<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/P3250044-709536.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/P3250044-709509.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a> by a very professional boarding party of no less than 6 officials. The Port Captain, his assistant, an Immigration official, a surgeon, and two other people (we still have no idea what they do). It was the first time in almost 2 years and 15 countries that we have been boarded. The boarding didn't make us special here, though - every boat gets the same treatment. Everyone was polite, professional, did their respective jobs, and no one even hinted at a "propina" (tip or bribe). Unfortunately it was also the most expensive clearance we've obtained - it cost us about US$130. But this is a poor country, and they really seem to be using the money rather than lining beaurocrats pockets with it, so we don't mind.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Up the River</span><br /><br />After <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/P3250071-727472.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/P3250071-727450.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a>obtaining our clearance and getting our passports stamped, off we went up the river. The Rio Dulce winds through 300 ft high sheer cliffs, with dense jungle clinging to the sides. This spectacular section of river leads to El Golfete, a 10 mile long lake on which we enjoyed a lovely spinnaker sail. At the head of El Golfete is another short stretch of river that leads to Lago Izabal, a large fresh water lake. It is on this short stretch of river that the town of Rio Dulce sits, along with <a href="http://www.tortugal.com/">Tortugal</a>, the marina which will be Cielo's home for the next month.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Castillo de San Felipe</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/P3260013-741011.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/P3260013-740985.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a>Guarding the entrance to Lago Izabel is the near perfectly preserved Castillo de San Felipe. It was built in the early 17th century by the Spanish to stop the British from continuing to attack and raid targets further upstream and along Lago Izabal. How the British managed to get war ships 22 miles up that river, through deep winding canyons and against the current, I do not understand. But apparently they did it, and did it well.<br /><br />Tomorrow we head to Flores and the ruins at Tikal. We'll be taking one of the infamous "chicken" buses, so I'm sure we'll have some great stories for you next time.<br /><br />Posted by: KevinKevinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02517025447867284433noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6854254682849113039.post-74115244726111676242009-03-16T19:45:00.007-04:002009-03-22T23:39:16.126-04:00Bay IslandsWe've now been in the Bay Islands of Honduras for exactly a month. We can't say enough good things about the Bay Islands, and we've really enjoyed our time here. Our good friends Lee & Petra (look for a guest blog from them shortly) joined us for a week on Roatan. After they left, we headed over to the island of Utila, where we have spent the past 10 days.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Cayos Cuchinos</span><br /><br />While Lee & Petra were here, we took a short trip to Cayos Cuchinos, a small group of Cays about 20 miles SSW of Roatan. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/IMG_2495-780265.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 133px;" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/IMG_2495-780240.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a>The absolutely stunning islands are home to a settlement of Garifuna Indians, one of Honduras' indigenous peoples. The settlement is home to about 80 people whose lives, in many ways, can't be much different than they were 300 years ago. The 80 friendly, warm people live and act as one large family. Unfortunatly, while we were there the island was also occupied by a scouting crew for the TV show "Survivor". Honestly people, go away. Does anyone still watch that show? Really?<br /><br />The only thing that marred the trip to the Cuchinos were the M-16 toting guards of the marine park that insisted that we could not anchor and that we must tie u<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/IMG_2354-772917.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 133px;" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/IMG_2354-772890.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a>p to the "mooring" they directed us to. Unfortunatly, the "mooring" was an old piece of shop equipment that had been dropped in the water and had a badly chafed line tied to it. Yikes! Not to worry, they said, they had another! So we motored over to the other "mooring", only to find empty water. "Where was the pennant?", we asked. "Se fue", was the response. What do you mean, "It went"!?! It went where, and what do you expect us to tie to? Well, we soon had our answer...they expected me to dive down and retrieve their mooring. An hour of chain and line untangling later, we managed to attach ourselves to a mooring, one which I felt reasonably certain would keep us off the rocks if a squall blew through.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Montado a Caballo</span><br /><br />We spent the better part of a w<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/P3110057-780341.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/P3110057-780284.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a>eek in West End, Roatan, a lovely little town on the western tip of the long island of Roatan. Fabulous & inexpensive food, beautiful beaches, and great snorkeling right off the boat, all protected by a fringing reef. We took advantage of Roatan's great prices and went horseback riding one morning. The previous day we had stopped in at a small hotel off the beach that had advertised horseback riding. We had arranged with the owner/manager to ride at 7am the next morning. When we <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/P3110079-772985.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/P3110079-772941.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a>arrived the next morning however, he was nowhere to be found. We figured it may have slipped his mind, what with all the marijuana he was smoking when we had talked to him the day before. So we wandered on up <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/P3110072-762440.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/P3110072-762397.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a>the hillside looking for him, past some of the islands small deer, and finally found our guide and horses. Neither our guide nor our horses, Chile and Principe, spoke any English, but no one seemed to care. Off we went into the hillside, through dense forest and steep slopes. Our horses were small but sure-footed (thankfully!), and they even stood their ground when we had a face-off with some bulls and cows we encountered along narrow path. Then down to the shoreline we went, cantering down the beach and through the water! We were both so sore the next day, but it was worth every minute.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Scuba Dooby-Doo</span><br /><br />We left Roatan and sailed another 22 miles to the island of Utila, the <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/P3150094e-762465.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/P3150094e-762460.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a>westernmost of the Bay Islands. We came to see the island, but the primary reason for the stop was to become certified Scuba divers. The island has a reputation for having great Scuba courses at rock-bottom prices, and it didn't disappoint. We really enjoyed the folks at Utila Water <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/P3170032e-759905.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/P3170032e-759870.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a>Sports - great people and they really took care of us. Lizz and I had a class with just the two of us, and after almost two weeks on the island we've done ten dives all over the island, including an additional dive on a wreck to certify us to 100 ft depths.<br /><br />We've had so much fun here and have really enjoyed the Bay Islands, but it is time to move on. Tomorrow morning we leave the island of Utila to head for Rio Dulce, Guatemala. We'll make a few stops on the Honduran mainland along the way. Once in Guatemala we'll be spending most of our time off the boat, with inland trips planned in addition to a week-long stay at a Spanish school.<br /><br />Posted by: KevinKevinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02517025447867284433noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6854254682849113039.post-11679548952236173442009-03-02T17:45:00.004-05:002009-03-03T11:33:56.963-05:00Hello, HondurasA week ago we arrived <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/P2210019-700394.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/P2210019-700376.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a>in Roatan, Honduras. Roatan is one of the Bay Islands, a wonderful and beautiful little group of islands about 30 miles north of the Honduran mainland. We had a glorious and uneventful four day passage from Key West. Within a day of arriving, the Bay Islands were already at the top of our list of places we've sailed - they are less crowded, less polluted, less expensive, and have friendlier people and a closer knit cruiser community than anywhere in the eastern Caribbean. In short, we love it here.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">A Quick Trip and a Big Fish</span><br /><br />We left Key West early on a Thursday morning with a very light southerly wind and headed due west. Our forecast called for the light southerly to clock around to the west and then northwest and build to 20-25 knots. As soon as we got our west wind, we took a left turn and headed <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/P2190007-748946.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/P2190007-748926.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a>straight for Havana, Cuba, 90 miles to the south. We had great weather for getting across the Gulf Stream, and moved through it quickly. The sun was setting and Cuba was rising on the horizon, and just as I was about to pull the fishing lines in for the night the large reel started screaming as something took our bait and sounded for the deep. We were thrilled to have a fish on, especially since we'd lost a decent sized Wahoo earlier in the day, but the timing wasn't good. The seas were kicking up, it was getting dark, and that meant I'd be trying to clean a fish on deck in the dark on a rolling boat. Lizz and I are pretty well practiced at this by now, and 30 minutes of well-executed fighting later we brought a 4 foot long bull Mahi Mahi along side. We hefted his 50+ pounds aboard and got to work cleaning him. We're still enjoying the best Mahi I've ever had!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Cuba!</span><br /><br />Once we were 2 miles off of Cuba, we turned west and paralleled the coast and fringing reef. I w<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/P2200017-710546.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/P2200017-710508.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a>as surprised at how rugged and undeveloped the Cuban country is. I suppose it makes sense, it just seemed odd. Here we were sailing along, a stone's throw from a country we knew little about and were technically legally prohibited from visiting. We had done our research beforehand regarding current, and our plan worked out well. By following the Cuban coast closely we had positive current of 1 knot or so all along the coast, and then by turning SE after rounding the western tip of Cuba we kept that 1 knot of current for another 75 miles. What is generally an uphill swim for cruisers heading our direction turned out to be a lovely sail with additional help from the current.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Roatan & Friends</span><br /><br />We were first welcomed to Roatan by about 3 dozen dolphins playing and frolicking in our bow wave as Roatan and Guanaja rose above the horizon on Monday morning. We experienced the<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/P2220041-729383.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/P2220041-729363.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a> forecasted squalls but they weren't severe. About 200 miles earlier we had realized that due to a mix-up we didn't have paper charts for Roatan, and our digital charts didn't have much detail. We were trying to pick our way through a reef into an anchorage. We could see the boats, but we couldn't figure out how they got in there. Roatan rises sheer from the ocean floor - 300 feet from shore it is still 600 feet deep - not good for trying to pick your way through a reef in poor light. On our third try we were welcomed again, this time by a friendly cruiser named David. Instead of just telling us how to get through the reef he hopped aboard and guided us through himself! It turns out David is the norm and not the exception - everyone we've met from cruisers to locals are invariably warm, friendly, and happy. The snorkeling is fantastic, the water clear and beautiful, the pace is laid back, cold beer is $1, a cab ride across the island is $3, there is a well stocked grocery, and the weather is beautiful. Hard to imagine a more wonderful place!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Lovely Days</span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/P3010063-738670.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/P3010063-738642.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />Our good friends Lee and Petra are here with us for a week. Tomorrow we'll sail down to Cayos Cuchillos, a handful of small cays 20 miles south of here. We'll snorkle, hike, relax and report back as soon as we can.Kevinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02517025447867284433noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6854254682849113039.post-84900684568445904362009-02-10T06:20:00.005-05:002009-02-10T07:59:49.847-05:00Cheeseburgers in ParadiseOn January 30th, after five weeks in Miami, we pulled up the anchor and finally started heading south again. Three great daysails later and we were in Big Pine Key, FL, where we met up with Lizz Sr, Jeffrey, and the bassets. Lizz and Jeffrey had come down from PA and rented a place for a week, and they brought the cold with them. We've spent time expoloring the Keys, reading, and relaxing. And yes, Buffet fans, we have been eating Cheeseburgers - grilled up fresh!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Medic!</span><br /><br />It hasn't been all fun and games though. Sammie, our 12 year old basset hound, went on a<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/IMG00160-779026.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 160px;" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/IMG00160-779019.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a> hunger strike shortly before arriving in FL. She wouldn't eat or drink, and was losing weight. She'd been to the vet in PA, and again here in FL. We suspected she had an ulcer, but the treatment wasn't working, leaving only much more sinister possibilities for what was ailing her. As her condition kept deteriorating, we were all distraught and convinced that she wasn't going to make it. After a third trip to the vet and more X-rays the vet suggested that maybe the ulcer was also infected, and after two days on a slew of antibiotics and other meds, she seems to be feeling much better.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Monkey Jungle</span><br /><br />We couldn't resist driving up to a place called Monkey Jungle on the FL mainland. Definitely had the potential to be a cheesy tourist trap, but it was actually a really cool experience. It's basically a big zoo with nothing but monkeys and apes. Hundreds of monkey's run wild and the people w<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/IMG00163-798525.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 160px;" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/IMG00163-798515.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>alk through the habitat in a tunnel of fencing. You can feed the monkey's raisens and sunflower seeds by dropping them down angled pipe or, even better, by putting them into little metal bowls suspended from a chain under a small hole in the roof. The monkey's sit on the top and watch you - when you put food in the bowl they reach their little hands through the hole and pull the bowl up by the chain. It is amazing how smart they are. They stare at you right in the eyes, and watch as you put food in. They know how much you're putting in too - drop just one sunflower seed in the bowl and they just look at you. Drop a second and you still get stared at. At three or four, though, it's worth the effort, and up goes the bowl. I thought I'd be funny and grabbed the bottom of one of the bowls as a monkey was pulling it up. The litte bugger looked me right in the eye and put his back into it - pulled the bowl right out of my hands! He knew exactly what I was doing and exactly what to do about it. I nearly peed my pants.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Things that go bump...</span><br /><br />Us. Or Cielo, rather. The water is thin down here, and Cielo has kissed the bottom at least a half dozen times in the past two weeks. No surprises, and all soft bottoms, but it makes for interesting navigating. Lizz and Jeffrey decided to stay another week and rented a different place - this o<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/IMG00182-779061.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 160px;" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/IMG00182-779053.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>ne with a deep water slip right in front of it. Great place for Cielo, with one exception - the channel entrance is ringed by a barely 5' deep sand bar. Our first effort to make it over failed, so we anchored outside and decided to try again at the next high tide close to midnight. Unfortunately the tides weren't matching the predictions, and we found ourselves stuck on the bar for a good 30 minutes until we managed to get off. Finally, yesterday afternoon, we made it over and Cielo is now snuggled up to the dock, 20 feet from the rental house. I'm not sure how we're going to back Cielo out of the 15' wide, 1/4 mile long canal yet, but we'll cross that bridge when we come to it.Kevinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02517025447867284433noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6854254682849113039.post-53141704655786265762009-01-12T14:51:00.005-05:002009-01-12T17:04:17.723-05:00Something to Blog About<a href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/PC190014-780408.JPG"><img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 218px" alt="" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/PC190014-779716.JPG" border="0" /></a> As of Wednesday, Kevin and I will have been in South Beach for a month...and it's been almost that long since we've posted anything to our blog. Coincidence? I think not. It's not that we haven't been having a wonderful time. The weather here is truly perfect, the beach and boardwalk are great for walking/running, there are tons of restaurants and bars serving just about anything you could want, and the large Latino community makes practicing Spanish a snap. In short, life is good.<br /><div></div><br /><div>The biggest reason for the radio silence is that since we arrived, we haven't been sailing, and for the last few weeks, we haven't even been living aboard. Rather we've been staying with a good (and extremely generous) friend, so posting entries to a blog about life aboard seems a bit silly. Our lives have mostly been centered on getting work done with our respective jobs, fixing the generator which keeps deciding to die and catching up with friends who live in the area--not exactly the stuff of riveting blogs. We've always said that we'd spare our readers the pain of reading about the truly mundane, so hence, no recent blogs, and likely not many more for the next two weeks. </div><div><br /><a href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/P1020032-705998.JPG"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 282px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 208px" alt="" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/P1020032-703569.JPG" border="0" /></a>By the end of January though, we should be moving south again and back to posting on a more regular basis. We'll spend several weeks in the Keys before sailing nearly 600 miles to the Bay Islands of Honduras by the end of February. From there, it's on to Guatemala, Belize and then Mexico before the start of hurricane season. And after that, well, we're not quite sure. We may be heading out to San Francisco, or back to Florida, or maybe doing something else entirely. And we'll certainly keep you posted. So if nothing else, our continuing lack of a long term plan will give us something to blog about. </div>Lizzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04989670315581833824noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6854254682849113039.post-45653267908865767482008-12-19T08:29:00.003-05:002008-12-19T09:52:18.711-05:00This...Is...MiamiWe are here. Miami at last. One month and 1100 miles after leaving Havre de Grace, we're warm and we're staying put until late January. Of course, the last leg of the trip had to have a little excitement. It was only about 100 miles, the weather looked good, what could go wrong?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Last Leg</span><br /><br />After a couple of days of very strong Easterlies, we waited a day and a half for the seas<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/PC170002-784855.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/PC170002-784735.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a> to calm down and left at 4PM in very light NE winds. We planned on motorsailing, at least until after midnight when the wind was supposed to fill in from the East. We suspected that the white exhaust smoke problem we'd been having was from too many additives in this tank of fuel, and we wanted to burn through as much of the remaing 1/2 tank as possible. About 3 hours out, we realized we'd probably be motorsailing the whole way. The gulf stream was extremely close to shore - we were only 2 miles offshore but we were being set by as much as 3.7 knots of current! Hey, on the bright side, we'll get through more of this fuel, right?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Running on Empty</span><br /><br />About 35 miles out, just as the current against us was reaching new highs, the diesel sputters to a halt. Seriously?!? You have got to be kidding me. This didn't seem like any of the usual s<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/PC170005-797562.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 160px;" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/PC170005-797511.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a>uspects - fuel filters, something wrapped around the prop, etc. To be honest, it seems like we're out of fuel, but clearly that's not possible. The gauge shows 1/3 of a tank, and we've only motored for 50 hours, so by both measures we should have about 30 gallons left - exactly 1/3 of a tank. So why the hell isn't there any fuel in this tank? Turns out that a) the guage is broken, and b) our newly serviced injectors have increased the amount of fuel we burn at a given RPM. So yes, we are out of fuel. We are out of fuel, we still have 75 miles to go, we don't have a ton of wind, and with the current running against us we are moving less than 3 knots over the ground. Not cool.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Back to Basics</span></span></span><br /><br />Without auxilary power, things that are ordinarly nice to have - like favorable current <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/PC170008-785107.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/PC170008-785017.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a>going in an inlet - suddenly became requirements. Which meant we needed to arrive in Miami before 3pm or we'd have to sit offshore waiting for the next favorable tide - which would be in the middle of the night, which meant we'd be waiting until the next morning. Which meant we had to get Cielo moving faster or it was going to be a long trip. We cheated in closer to shore, and once we got a little less than a mile offshore the current dropped down to less than 1 knot. With Cielo moving at 6.5-7.5 knots in 12-15 knots of apparent wind and less than a knot of current, it looked like we just might make it.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Under Sail</span><br /><br />And make it we did. The wind built a couple knots and we kept Cielo moving as fast as we could. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/PC170010-727022.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/PC170010-726605.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a>Good sails and vigilant trimming had us averaging over 7 knots. We made it to the Miami inlet just before 10AM. Ironically, we made it sooner than we would have had we not run out of fuel. If we hadn't run out of fuel we probably wouldn't have run in so close to shore in the dark, and the lack of a motor slowed us down far less than the extra current. We sailed in the inlet, sharing the narrow channel with 600 foot long tankers, dropped the anchor, and dinghied over to get some fuel.Kevinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02517025447867284433noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6854254682849113039.post-77356496924328975702008-12-15T15:06:00.005-05:002008-12-15T16:36:41.322-05:00Florida<strong>Fernandina Beach...we're sorry!</strong><br /><div> </div><br /><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/PC120003-769938.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 160px;" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/PC120003-769876.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a>I have to begin this blog with a heart felt apology to the town of Fernandina Beach. Really, no one likes to have their town compared to a dirty diaper, and once we dinghied to shore and explored beyond the smoke-belching paper mills, we discovered a lovely town complete with palm tree lined streets, cute shops and friendly people. We thoroughly enjoyed our four day stay there and took full advantage of being outdoors in the 70+ degree temperatures.<br /></div><div> </div><br /><div><strong>Blowin' in the wind</strong></div><div><strong></strong> </div><br /><div>After watching the weather forecast for a few days, we decided to start heading south again on Friday morning.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/PC140006-778685.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/PC140006-778630.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a> Our goal was to sail about 215 miles to Ft. Pierce, which would leave us just one more short overnight to Miami, where we plan to spend the Christmas holidays and the first part of January. We were grateful for the strong north east breeze that helped us make Ft. Pierce in less than 36 hours (at one point, we hit through the water speeds of over 10 knots) but were saddened when that same wind blew away the lovely grill cover that Kevin had sewn last year. Given that our sewing machine is currently dead, that Kevin is super busy with work and that I don't really sew, it's likely our grill will sit naked for a while.<br /></div><div> </div><br /><div><strong>We want to see a manatee</strong><br /></div><div> </div><br /><div>Two days into our stay in Ft. Pierce, we've discovered that the town boasts enormous raw<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/PC140009-707623.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 160px; height: 200px;" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/PC140009-707551.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a> oysters for about a dollar a piece, a latino grocery packed full of great (and cheap) produce and seafood and a manatee museum complete with an observation deck from which the highly endangered species can be seen. Unfortunately, we have yet to spot one of these "gentle giants", that are also called sea cows, but since they need to surface every two to four <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/PC140011-1-741239.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 160px;" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/PC140011-1-741185.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a>minutes to breathe and they can grow to weigh over 3,000 pounds, we're hopeful that if there's one in the vicinity, we'll be able to spot him. For now it seems, we'll have to make due with the watching the giant sea turtles, porpoises, egrets and pelicans that we've seen with increasing frequency as we've moved south. Tomorrow, we'll head for Miami, and specifically for South Beach...a town that boasts a different kind of wild life altogether. </div>Lizzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04989670315581833824noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6854254682849113039.post-15256574486657751272008-12-08T09:12:00.007-05:002008-12-09T13:38:51.173-05:00Caught UpWe just arrived in Fernandina Beach, FL. We're safe,<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/PB230045-738161.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/PB230045-738091.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a> sound, and WARM. In two and a half weeks we've covered 775 miles in four passages. All but this last one pretty much sucked. We've been rained on, snowed(!) on, had wind from every which way but where we wanted it - Mother Nature has pretty much had her way with us. But now, finally, we get to thaw. Fernandina Beach is beautiful! Well, actually it is nothing but industrial paper mills and smells like a dirty diaper, but did I mention that it is WARM?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Troubles</span><br /><br />We're also hoping we've left Murphy behind in the cold, and to be honest I hope that bastard freezes to death. Or drowns. I really don't care which. We've had more problems so far this year than in all of last year put together. Aside from the problems we inherited from the end of last year (generator not working, canvas trouble, etc), <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/PC080035-736003.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/PC080035-735890.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a>Murphy has gotten into our freshly serviced outboard (wouldn't start and had to be completely disassembled), holding tank & gauge (gauge froze and the pump wouldn't empty the tank), our diesel engine (mysterious never-ending white smoke), running lights (leaked salt water, corroded, and failed - mid-ocean of course), our hot water heater, and our new secondary winch (fouled and was nearly destroyed in a squall). But he sprung his <i>pièce de résistance</i> upon us at 7:00AM yesterday morning in the freezing cold. We were all ready to get underway from Charleston, but as Lizz starts to pull in the anchor chain it binds up within just five feet or so. Hmmm. That can't be right, we've got over 100 feet of chain out [100 feet that we let out I might add, because our neighbor who appeared to be on a mooring but wasn't, swung <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/PC050085-700617.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/PC050085-700509.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a>into us a few nights previously]. So we try again. Nope, definitely fouled on something. We tugged and pulled and backed and powered forward, it was hopeless. With 2 knots of current, 55 degree water temps, 35 degree air temps, and near zero visibility in the water, diving on the anchor was a bit out of my league. Murphy had particularly good timing - we had about a 26 hour weather window to make the 22 hour trip to Fernandina beach before a weeks worth of strong southerlies started to blow. If we didn't get out of Charleston within an hour or two we were going to be either stuck there or relegated to spending four cold days picking our way down the ICW. Fortunately, the fates smiled upon us. Our internet was still working on the boat, our first call to a local diver yielded two very capable gentlemen who, for a fair price, were at the boat and had the anchor freed within the hour. Apparently the anchor chain had gotten woven around a series of logs. We made it out of Charleston by 10AM, and were in Fernandina by 9:30AM this morning. And for the first time this year we were able to sail the whole way.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">The Waddle</span><br /><br />Despite the troubles and cold, it hasn't been all <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/PC070026-738303.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/PC070026-738199.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a>torture since we left. We had a great Thanksgiving with my uncle and his family, spent time with our friends Mike & Allison and Heather & Josh, and Greg & Jean met us in Charleston for a lovely day. And what could make a day more lovely than a gathering of 100 Basset Hounds? Yep, Charleston's Christmas Parade includes "The Waddle", a walking float of Basset Hounds. I imagine it just wouldn't be Christmas without it.Kevinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02517025447867284433noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6854254682849113039.post-75566007311743591822008-11-26T09:25:00.011-05:002008-11-27T11:44:45.976-05:00Giving Thanks<div><br /><div><a href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/PB230044-725069.JPG"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 204px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 203px" alt="" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/PB230044-723862.JPG" border="0" /></a>Cielo and her crew have been in Beaufort NC since Sunday night. We arrived exhausted, but thrilled to be 300 miles further south than we had been just 72 hours earlier. Though the mornings and evenings here have been chilly (and getting out of bed has never been less tempting), the days have been sunny and relatively mild, with temperatures ranging from 50-60 degrees. Given that the high temperatures in Havre de Grace the days before we left never got out of the 30s, we are thankful to be warmer. Given the mishaps we encountered before we left, we’re also feeling incredibly thankful that we have finally been able to start our move south.<br /><br /></div><br /><br /><div><strong>!$%#@*! Murphy!!!!!!<br /></strong><br />Now I understand that things sometimes go wrong, but the string of mishaps the befell us in the days prior to Cielo's departure seemed a little extreme. At first, we thought we'd be able to depart on Friday, November 14th, then it was Tuesday November 18th, then the 19th and finally, it was the 20th or bust…and it was almost bust.<br /><br />The weather in Havre de Grace was the first factor that caused delay. The unseasonably cold temperatures the week before we departed made it impossible to work outside at a quick pace and required lots of trips below decks to warm up. No chance of leaving the 14th. Then on Sunday the 16th, there was the need to drive 130 miles round-trip to Annapolis to purchase a new zipper for our canvas that we'd ordered, but hadn’t arrived. Next, on Monday, Kevin was working to re-install the hot water heater when a piece of it snapped off in his hands. So Tuesday was out.<br /></div><br /><div><img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 274px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px" alt="" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/PB180042-702444.JPG" border="0" />On Tuesday, my mom and I were replacing the zippers on Cielo’s cockpit canvas using our ancient sewing machine that kept working more and more slowly until it finally announced its death with an outpouring of smoke. We spent the rest of the day cranking the machine by hand. Hmmm, guess we won't be ready Wednesday. Though Murphy continued his stay on the boat (lost or broken tools, predictions of snow, etc), we finally managed to cast off our dock lines and head out of Tidewater marina at 11:24 a.m. on Thursday morning. Our goal was to get 180 miles, down the entire Chesapeake Bay, to Hampton, Virginia by the following afternoon.<br /><br /><strong>Freezing down the Bay</strong><br /><br />There is little positive to write about an overnight trip down the Chesapeake Bay in late November. For a similar experience, try driving a convertible through an obstacle course… in the dark… in Vermont… in January. That's what it felt like anyway. It is an understatement to say that we were thankful to arrive safely and un-frost bitten in Hampton on Friday morning.<br /><br /><strong>We're Getting Warmer</strong></div><br /><br /><div>We departed for Beaufort on Sat<a href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/PB230046-710909.JPG"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/PB230046-710180.JPG" border="0" /></a>urday morning after spending less than 24 hours in Hampton. We were anxious to reach warmer temperatures, but also to take advantage of the 2 day weather window that would permit us to get out and around Cape Hatteras and into Beaufort. The trip was cold, but largely uneventful until we arrived at the channel leading to Beaufort's Town Creek at about 7:30 on Sunday evening. We've been in and out of Beaufort twice within the last year and Kevin spent his high school years in Eastern North Carolina, so we weren't worried about navigating into Beaufort after dark. In addition, we recently purchased a new GPS that interfaces with our electronic charts and allowes us to view our position at all times on our laptop.<br /><br />Kevin was at the helm as we entered the channel.<br /><br />"Check the GPS and tell me if we're heading the right way" he said.<br /><br />I happily ducked below, escaping the cold air and stiff breeze to take a look at the computer.<br /><br />"Ummm, it shows we're headed right for land" </div><br /><div>"That's impossible"</div><br /><div>"OK, but that's what it says" </div><div><br />Turns out our GPS is about a tenth of a mile off--not a big deal when you're using it in your car, but sort of a problem in a narrow channel that quickly shoals on either side. Did I also mention that the majority of the channel markers aren't lit and our newly purchased spotlight wasn't holding a charge?<br /><br />After a stressful hour of very slow going, we eased Cielo into a slip at the town docks. We then proceeded to blast the heater below, pour several stiff drinks and sleep soundly until 8 the next morning, all the while, feeling, you guessed it, very, very thankful. </div></div>Lizzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04989670315581833824noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6854254682849113039.post-50053418149886173602008-11-12T09:35:00.008-05:002008-11-17T07:47:36.323-05:00Photo essay - RussiaCielo is finally back in the water and with a little help from the weather and a lot of hard work, we should be able to leave Havre de Grace in just a few days. Currently, the weather is cold and getting colder, so the race is on for us to get down the Chesapeake Bay and through the first part of the inter-coastal waterway to Beaufort, NC, where according to weather.com, it's about 10 degrees warmer (or more) than where we are now. At the moment, that would mean it's 48 degrees instead of just barely above freezing...but anything has got to be better than here.<br /><br />So, while we continue to shiver and attend to the mundane (wiring solar panels, splicing line, sewing canvas), I thought I'd share a few memories from our Moscow trip that were captured on film. And when next we write (hopefully) it will be to re-count the start of our trip south.<br /><br /><div><div><div><div><div><strong>Memories of Moscow</strong><br /><br /></div><div>The following pictures are in no particular order and represent just a fraction of our wonderful experiences in Russia.<br /><br /></div><div><strong>Lenin's tomb...and Lenin!</strong></div><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 320px; height: 255px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/PA230088-715346.JPG" border="0" /> Unfortunately, we were only able to take a picture of the outside of Lenin's tomb and not the man himself....but if you find yourself in Moscow, you can wait in line on certain days of the week to enter his tomb and see his body, which is preserved, encased in glass and protected by many gruff looking soldiers. It's hard to capture in words just how weird it was to descend three flights of dark stairs amidst gun-toting guards in order to glimpse the body of a Soviet leader who's been dead for decades. One the one hand, you know you're seeing something truly historic...and on the other hand, what you're also seeing is a short, waxy corpse in an old suit, something that seems straight out to Madame Toussard's. This tomb and its contents are truly a relic of the Communist era. During those days, people used to make pilgrimages from all over the country and stand in line for hours to get a glimpse of their revered (and reviled) leader.<br /><br /><strong>Going to the chapel...and all around town</strong><a href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/CIMG1280-733452.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; float: right; width: 276px; height: 240px;" alt="" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/CIMG1280-732715.JPG" border="0" /></a><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 259px; height: 240px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/PA180229-709697.JPG" border="0" /> </div><div>Getting married in Russia is a big deal and Russians have some interesting ways of marking the occasion. The picture on the left was taken in Red Square on the first day we arrived in Moscow. As our visit continued, the site of wedding parties at the places we visited became common. It seems that on one's wedding day, it is a tradition in Russia to visit local historic sites to get pictures taken. The bride and groom pose for photos while the wedding party gathers around them and chants "bitter, bitter" (in Russian of course) until the couple kisses in order to create "sweet". Then everyone takes a drink and its off to the next photo opportunity.<br /><p>Another wedding tradition in Russia is that newly married couples write their names on a lock, attach the lock to a bridge that crosses a river and toss the key into the water below. The picture on the right shows pad locks of all shapes and sizes locked on a bridge in the city. The locks in this picture are attached to sculpures that adorn a bridge that crosses the Moscow river.<br /></p><p><strong>Get this party started</strong><br /></p><p><strong></strong></p><div><a href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/CIMG1322-741393.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; float: left; width: 266px; height: 240px;" alt="" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/CIMG1322-740687.JPG" border="0" /></a> <a href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/CIMG1343-785708.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; float: right; width: 269px; height: 240px;" alt="" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/CIMG1343-785033.JPG" border="0" /></a><a href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/CIMG1343-787353.JPG"></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div><p><strong></strong></p><div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div><p><strong></strong></p><div>Michael and Dina threw a party at their apartment a few days after we arrived. It was wonderful to get to meet their friends in Russia, all of whom spoke good, if not fluent English. The group was also fluent in drinking, more so than Kevin and I. The difference between the picture on the left versus the one on the right is that by the time the one on the right was taken, Kevin and I had already hidden in our room in order to get some sleep (and to get a break from the vodka).<strong></strong></div><div><br /></div><div><strong>MacGyver to the rescue</strong></div><div><br /></div><div><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 320px; height: 240px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/CIMG1268-762260.JPG" border="0" />OK, so this isn't one of Russia's historic sites, but I couldn't resist including a picture of Kevin hard at work trying to fix Michael and Dina's cappuccino machine. With few tools (I think they only had a screwdriver) and a few hours, he had the machine as good as new (for the most part). Interestingly, Kevin's talents may indicate that he's part Russian, as we were told by a guy traveling with us in the elevator one night (right after he suggested a jury-rig for our broken apartment access card) that in Russia, "we are all MacGyvers".<br /><br /><strong>View from the top</strong> </div><div><br /></div><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 320px; height: 240px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/PA180249-723031.JPG" border="0" />Average airfare for two to Moscow, $3,000. Nightly stay at the Ritz, $1,500. Cocktail at the Rtiz roof bar, $40. The panoramic views of Red Square, St. Basil's and the Kremlin...priceless.<br /><br /></div><div></div></div></div></div>Lizzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04989670315581833824noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6854254682849113039.post-49274135111530371092008-11-06T07:26:00.012-05:002008-11-08T13:02:35.220-05:00Russian to Rushin<a href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/PA180195-775817.JPG"><img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/PA180195-773641.JPG" border="0" /></a> Though we've been back for less than a week, our trip to Russia already seems like a distant memory. The inability to sleep past 5:30 a.m. and a constant hankering for borscht are the strongest reminders that we've just returned. Of course we also have a ton of pictures and some great memories of our trip, both of which will remain long after I've fully adjusted back to US east coast time.<br /><br />And while the memories are still fresh, we thought we'd dedicate the new few entries to sharing our experiences visiting Moscow....starting with my most favorite topic, food. We believe this option will be much preferred by our readers to the alternative--which would be entries that detail the million last minutes projects Kevin and I have been immersed in so that we can get Cielo back in the water and start moving south before we freeze to death...but if anyone would like to read about how I spent the day organizing canned goods, please let me know.<br /><div><div><div><div><br /><div><strong>Lost in translation</strong><strong><br /></div><div></strong>Anyone who knows Kevin knows that he tends to be hungry most of the time, so finding good snack food is always a priority for us. In Moscow, one of Kevin's favorite snacks was a hotdog-like sandwich that was sold from some of the kiosks lining the city's busy downtown streets. The dog was served either in a bun or a tortilla and came with fillings that could include pickles, bacon bits, vingary mayonaise and mashed potatoes. There was one <a href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/PA260115-755124.JPG"></a>day when Kevin got them all. Though the dogs themselves were certainly a draw, it was the name on the kiosks selling the dogs that first caught our attention...it seems that just as the Chevy "Nova" suffered in Spanish speaking countries, the Cyrillic lettering for "star dogs" would have to change before these tasty treats could have any chance in the US...because mashed potatoes and pickles aside, I'm not sure that "crap dogs" would be a hit.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/PA260115-779541.JPG"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 190px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 232px" alt="" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/PA260115-777834.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />So as always, Kevin and I thoroughly enjoyed sampling street food, but we also ate in lots of fantastic restaurants during our time in Russia. Dina mentioned to us that restaurant dining was quite rare for people in Russia when she was growing up but it seems that since the fall of communism, Russians have wasted no time in opening a huge variety of restaurants. Though we mostly stuck to dining out at Russian restaurants, we were also able to get our fill of sushi as surprisingly (at least to me) it's all the rage in Moscow. I would estimate that every third restaurant had a sushi bar and just about all of them were packed day and night. There was also lots of traditional Russian food to be eaten. Our favorites included borscht served in a bread bowl, savory dumplings filled with ground meat and broth and perfectly cooked potatoes served with herring. We also sampled both meat and fish "jelly" which is basically either meat or fish encased in gelatin, which looks gross but is actually pretty tasty. Food is without doubt expensive, but just about everything we tried was really, really good. </div><br /><div><strong>So I think about my next drink</strong></div><div><br />And then there was the vodka...lots and lots and lots of vodka. Based on my experiences, I can report that the notion that Russians drink a fair amount of straight vodka is understated at best. Though some restaurants now served mixed drinks (nothing like an ice-free vodka tonic), the majority of folks tend to order some quantity of vodka, drink it straight and chase it with beer and "zakuski" which means "little bites". Zakuski can range from salted cucumbers to crepes <a href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/CIMG1266-737725.JPG"><img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/CIMG1266-737101.JPG" border="0" /></a>with caviar and this type of food (along with a decent amount of vodka) generally makes up the first course of any proper Russian meal. In addition to zakuski, Russians also like toasts with their vodka, and it took both me and Kevin a while to realize that while we may look a bit rude to not down a shot with every toast made, we'd certainly die if we did. After about three days of trying to keep up, I switched to "piva", which is beer and fared somewhat better, though I have concluded after this trip that nowhere in my lineage do I have any Russian ancestors...and if I do, they're likely highly disappointed. </div></div></div></div></div>Lizzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04989670315581833824noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6854254682849113039.post-20845000143079311912008-10-22T04:34:00.006-04:002008-10-23T01:59:15.658-04:00In Russia, with love<div><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" alt="" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/PA200290-775884.JPG" border="0" />It would be difficult to pass up the opportunity to visit Moscow under just about any circumstance, but the offer Kevin and I received was absolutely ideal. Dina and Micheal, our fellow live aboard friends from Connecticut invited us to visit them for two weeks in Moscow this fall. They'd moved there in July so that Dina could be closer to her family and Micheal could take up work for IBM in Russia. We'd have a free place to stay - our own bedroom in an apartment right in the middle of Moscow and a native Russian speaker (Dina) to show us around...now the deal is virtually unbeatable. But wait, there's more...the topper here is that Dina and Micheal may very well be the most generous couple on the entire planet. Officially, we are the luckiest folks on the planet, yet again.<br /></div><div> </div><br /><div>We met Micheal and Dina in the summer of 2007 in Stamford, right before we left on Cielo's first voyage up north to Block Islan<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/PA180247-721293.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; width: 200px; cursor: pointer; height: 144px;" alt="" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/PA180247-720409.JPG" width="200" border="0" height="139" /></a>d, RI. They invited us over for drinks and appetizers and gave us maps of the area and a hand written guide to all of the places we'd want to visit in Block Island and along the way. When we returned 10 days later, they'd organized a going-away party to celebrate our final departure south. Then they presented us with gifts including an excellent cookbook especially for cruisers, Charlie the palm tree, and a very nice bottle of "Cielo" brand tequilla- perhaps the perfect gift. Then, they came to visit us in the BVI's where we had to fight (and usually lost) to ever get the bill. This is just the type of people they are.<br /></div><br /><div>Dina and Michael's hospitality since we've arrived in Moscow is just as we remembered. From the moment we landed and were picked up at the airport, we've been hosted in high-style. We've been taken to the famous attractions (Red Square, the Kremlin) as well as places only locals seem to get to--tiny churches, winding backstreets and unmarked bars filled with memorabilia from the Soviet era. Kevin and I follow along as they debate what our next activity should be. It's great!<br /></div><br /><div>Currently, Dina is out buying groceries for lunch and <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/PA180221-756291.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; width: 183px; cursor: pointer; height: 136px;" alt="" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/PA180221-755599.JPG" width="197" border="0" height="112" /></a>Micheal is at work, though planning to leave early so they can take us to visit some historic estates on the city's outskirts. Later in the week, they're hosting a party so we can meet many of their friends and the deliberations over the best weekend plans have already begun. Oh, and did I mention the sun has been shining for the past two days when rain was predicted all week? I'm not sure that's something Micheal and Dina have authority over - but I wouldn't be surprised if it's something they'd arranged.</div>Lizzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04989670315581833824noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6854254682849113039.post-63062390454573607132008-09-23T14:50:00.009-04:002008-10-22T01:55:40.309-04:00Going the distance<span style="font-style: italic;">NOTE: We were so busy that I didn't get a chance to post this blog entry before we left for Russia...so now we've been in Moscow since Saturday and this entry is a wee bit dated...but just pretend it's last week and I promise we'll have a fresh-from-Russia post tomorrow for sure....</span><br /><div><br />This past Saturday, Kevin and<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/PA110175-744774.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/PA110175-743797.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a> I ran the Baltimore 1/2 marathon. We paused to celebrate this accomplishment just long enough to grab a drink (a few bottles of water and a margarita, actually) before heading back to Cielo to continue the other race we've been running for the past few months--the one to get Cielo back in shape and back in the water so we can start moving south again. As I type this entry, the sun is setting and Kevin is still at the boat working away.<br /><br />Over the past few weeks we've polished, varnished, sanded and/or painted just about every surface inside and out of our boat--and our project list seems only to grow longer. I am bruised and blistered and more often than not in desperate need of a shower. But of course, I know what you're thinking...that we did this to ourselves...and that even on our busiest days, what we're<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/P9200138-796108.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/P9200138-795421.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a> doing sure beats a desk job...and pretty much, you're right.<br /><br />Though we're going crazy at the moment, the pay-off of getting to spend another winter traveling the Caribbean will be wonderful...and before that, we'll be lucky enough to spend the last two weeks of October visiting friends in Russia. Of course way back in June when we booked this trip, it seemed absolutely possible that we'd be able to focus on our respective jobs, see all of our friends, get the boat in order and train for a 1/2 marathon between June and October, but I guess I should have figured out by now that nothing ever goes "according to schedule" and that anything worth doing takes time....so, we've been officially<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/P9010065-738711.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/P9010065-738046.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a> racing the clock for over a month now so that we can have the amazing experience of visiting Moscow with hosts who offer a free place to stay and a promise to show us the city from the perspective of locals. A pretty incredible offer.<br /><br />Once we get back from Russia, we'll hopefully quickly get back in the water and once again start moving south before the weather on the east coast gets too cold. For Cielo's second winter in the Caribbean, we're hoping to spend time in Mexico, Belize, Guatemala and wherever ends up being interesting…meanwhile, we'll keep working to close the distance between where we are and where we want to be. </div>Lizzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04989670315581833824noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6854254682849113039.post-9462305275458888342008-07-04T23:52:00.002-04:002008-07-05T00:10:07.059-04:00Landlocked!Admittedly, we've been terribly remiss in posting this blog entry. Cielo has now been out of the water for just over a month. After our diversion to Beaufort, NC, from our intended destination<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/IMG_4032-704947.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/IMG_4032-704744.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a> of Norfolk, VA, we spent a weekend in Beaufort before continuing on. Kyle left us in Beaufort and flew back to New York, and Lizz and I had an uneventful sail the last 200 miles around Cape Hatteras and up to Norfolk. We met up with Lizz Sr. in Solomons, MD, and had a two day glorious spinnaker run up the miraculously powerboat-free Chesapeake Bay. We arrived in Havre de Grace at the end of May and Cielo was comfortably resting "on the hard" two days later.<br /><br />We'll be traveling around visiting family and friends until mid-July, at which point we'll be spending as much time as possible attending to Cielo's exceedingly long project list. Cielo will be back in the water the first week of October, at which point we'll start the journey south again. This winter's plans include the Bahamas, a country that rhymes with "tuba", and the southwestern Caribbean. We won't bore you with project details, so there probably won't be much to report until October. Instead of checking the website, might I suggest you use the link to the right to subscribe to our Feedburner version of the site. If you enter your email address, our next post will be delivered to your email inbox as soon as it is posted. Thanks for following along with us!<br /><br />Posted by: KevinKevinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02517025447867284433noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6854254682849113039.post-11668569015678460882008-05-29T17:25:00.005-04:002008-06-02T10:16:17.970-04:00The Long Way Home<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/Route-&-Details-797214.png"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 260px; height: 153px;" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/Route-&-Details-797208.png" alt="" border="0" /></a>Cielo and her crew departed Culebra on Thursday, May 8th bound for Norfolk, 1300 nautical miles to the North-Northwest. Eight and a half days days later we ended up in Beaufort, NC, a full 225 miles short of our destination. Though the official reason for ducking into Beaufort was a storm brewing off of Cape Hatteras, the crew's desire to exchange strong winds, high seas, and cold soggy gear for dry land and a stiff drink may have also factored into the equation...<br /><br /><div><strong>Thursday, May 8th - Departure Day</strong><br /><br />After spending two full days getting Cielo ready for the passage, we motored out of Culebra around 7 a.m. We bid a fond farewell to one of our favorite islands as we worked to set our spinnaker in 10 k<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/IMG_0355-754817.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 232px; height: 130px;" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/IMG_0355-754812.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>nots of air. With the wind behind us, the air was warm and Cielo's crew sunbathed on deck and settled into an easy routine and watch schedule. All was perfect until around 2:00 p.m. when Kevin looked up from his book and uttered one of his two favorite phrases, "what's that sound?" (in case you are wondering, his other favorite is "what's that smell?"). We quickly identified the sound as coming from the bow and specifically from the spinnaker (our big light air sail). The fabric of the large sail had gotten caught over the bow pulpit and was starting to tear. Not good at all. Kevin rushed forward but not before the bottom two inches of the spinnaker ripped off and began dragging in the water. Sitting in the cockpit, Lizz was sure that the entire sail was going to rip away, leaving us with no means of propulsion (other than the engine) in light air. Fortunately, the "rip stop" fabric of the sail lived up to its name and the damage was contained. We imagine we may have looked a little funny flying our misshapen jagged sail, but since we were all alone in the middle of the ocean, we didn't much care.<br /><br /></div><div><strong>Friday, May 9th - Fish Tale</strong><br /></div><br /><div>Day two of the spinnaker run. The motion of the boat was so comfortable we started calling it our "magic carpet ride". We were able to hang out below decks,<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/IMG_0369-769991.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/IMG_0369-769950.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a> prepare food with ease and miracle of miracles, get some easy sleep whenever we weren't on watch. We were also able to drop multiple lines in the water for fishing. At about 2:00 in the afternoon, the reel on the fishing rod started screaming. The reel has a drag and a ratchet on it, and when a fish strikes the reel lets the line out with resistance, and makes a loud "vvrrzzzzz" sound. The difficult part is that our cheap reel is grossly undersized in terms of resistance and line capacity, and as such we've got a history of losing big fish. Our only hope when we get a strike is to get the boat stopped in a h<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/IMG_0383-718086.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/IMG_0383-718081.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>urry and start fighting the fish before he empties the reel of line and swims off with an oh-so-unfashionable necktie consisting of an expensive lure and 300 feet of fishing line. Stopping the boat when sailing downwind with our behemoth of a spinnaker set isn't easy, but with the three of us working together we managed it just in time. Kyle fought the fish in, Kevin gaffed it (a gaff is essentially a VERY large fish hook on the end of a 4' handle), and aboard comes a 25lb spearfish - our biggest fish yet! Less than an hour later we were enjoying sushi in the cockpit, gliding along the open ocean under the spinnaker as the sun set in the west and the moon rose in the east.<strong><br /><br />Saturday, May 10th - Here's to Swimn'</strong><br /></div><br /><div>Saturday brought a continued 5-10 knots of air and we continued sailing under the spinnaker. We were thrilled with the motion of the boat and the progress we were making, but less excited<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/IMG_0382-790767.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/IMG_0382-790728.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a> about the heat. Since we were moving exactly with the wind, we basically had no breeze and everyone pretty much spent the day lounging around and avoiding the sun. As the day wore on, the smooth, glassy ocean started to look too cool and refreshing to resist. About 5PM we decided to take a dip in the ocean. We <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/P5110032-747321.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/P5110032-747318.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a>snuffed the spinnaker, brought the boat to a standstill, and into the water we went. Nothing that we could write would convey just how incredibly cool it is to swim in 15,000 feet of clear blue ocean water. The water is so blue it looks fake, like a blue version of the green screen they use in television. The water has a depth and clarity that are unimaginable. We dropped a penny, and you could still see it 60 seconds later as it tumbled down into the abyss. From below Cielo looked like she was floating in air. It was absolutely incredible, definitely one of the coolest experiences of our lives.<br /></div><br /><div><strong>Sunday, May 11th - Calm Before the Storm</strong></div><strong></strong><br /><div><strong><span style="font-weight: normal;">By Sunday our wind had w</span></strong><strong><span style="font-weight: normal;">as no longer from right behind us, so we dropped the spinnaker and</span></strong><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/IMG_0400-765807.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/IMG_0400-765763.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><strong><span style="font-weight: normal;"> began motor-sailing in </span></strong><strong><span style="font-weight: normal;">light air. Since we were listening to the weather reports daily ov</span></strong><strong><span style="font-weight: normal;">er the SS</span></strong><strong><span style="font-weight: normal;">B, we</span></strong><strong><span style="font-weight: normal;"> had at least some</span></strong><strong><span style="font-weight: normal;"> notion that Sunday would be the last day of totally s</span></strong><strong><span style="font-weight: normal;">ettled weather for the trip. As such, we decided to</span></strong><strong><span style="font-weight: normal;"> t</span></strong><strong><span style="font-weight: normal;">ake full advantage. We enjoyed a nearly perfect day of smooth </span></strong><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/P5110046-785983.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 121px; height: 162px;" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/P5110046-785893.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a><strong><span style="font-weight: normal;">motor sailing, sunbathing, took another fabulous swim in the ocean, and grilled our freshly caught fish for a dinner of fish tacos. As we enjoyed a glorious sunset over our grilled dinner and a cold beer, Kyle joked that in the movies, the perfection of our day would have foreshadowed disaster to come. "It was the last time they'd see the sun..." he intoned i</span></strong><strong><span style="font-weight: normal;">n an overly dramatic narrator's voice. Pretty much, he was dead on. </span></strong></div><strong></strong><br /><div><strong>Monday, May 12th-Barf-o-Rama</strong><br /></div><br /><div>"What a difference a day makes"....this phrase was the title of Kyle's first guest blog and the first words Lizz uttered to him as she climbed into the cockpit on Monday morning to relieve him from watch. The flat seas and light winds from the previous day had been replaced by wind of about 25 knots and a steadily building sea. Kevin and Lizz were used to this weather and the rocking motion of the boat that came with it, but Kyle, not so much. By 9:00 a.m. he'd already barfed a few times and was looking increasingly green. He quickly agreed to apply the scopalamine patch that he'd turned down for the first few days of the trip and after a few more leans over the side and a long nap, he began to feel better. Unfortunately, the wind and waves continued to build, making the motion on Cielo less and less comfortable. In addition, we were taking heavy spray into the cockpit and occasionally, into the boat. We switched out our bathing suits for foul weather gear and braced for what was to come.<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong></strong><br /><object height="350" width="425"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/JFLmgAlL36o"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/JFLmgAlL36o" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" height="350" width="425"></embed></object><br /><br /></div><div><strong>Tuesday, May 13th - The Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day</strong><br /></div><br /><div>Had we known how crappy Tuesday was going to be, we would have appreciated Monday more. Our Monday morning weather forecast had called for significant<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/P5140078-715972.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/P5140078-715967.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a> moderation by Tuesday. Instead Tuesday's sunrise shed light on our first gale, with 30 to 35+ knots of wind and 15+ foot seas. Yep, you read that correctly. The wind continued to back from the west around to the north, forcing us to sail north and east, AWAY from our goal. Adding insult to injury, the seas were from the North-Northeast, and so we were pounding directly into them. Unfortunately tacking would send us to the southwest, even further from our goal, so we needed to hang on to this tack as long as possible. At about 9AM, with Kevin on watch and Kyle and Lizz n<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/P5160104-780774.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/P5160104-780711.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a>apping below, things started to get out of hand. A series of particularly large seas and strong gusts culminated with Cielo plunging her bow through the face of an exceedingly steep wave. Twelve inches of green water washed over Cielo's decks from stem to stern, gallons of which found their way below decks, including about three gallons that landed on Lizz's head as she slept on the settee. Lizz came bursting topside, dazed and drenched, to find Kevin furiously trying to reef the sails down further and come about to the opposite tack. In the process of tacking, we damaged the staysail cover and the furling line for the genoa, (temporarily) which left us with a significantly reduced sail plan. We would spend the next 24 hours sailing slowly and uncomfortably, and in largely the wrong direction.<strong></strong></div><br /><div><strong>Wednesday, May 14th - Moderation</strong><br /><strong><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br />By Wednesday, the wind and seas finally began to m</span></strong><strong><span style="font-weight: normal;">oderate. Cielo was again moving fast, but with the wind still out of the North, she was still heading North-Northwest. The weather forecast for the next few days was starting to solidify, and it wasn't looking good. Two more lo</span></strong><strong><span style="font-weight: normal;">w p</span></strong><strong><span style="font-weight: normal;">ressure </span></strong><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/P5160164-767040.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/P5160164-767032.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a><strong><span style="font-weight: normal;">systems were going to move off the US east coast in quick succession, both packing gale force winds. The second one was what really concerned us however. It would bring strong gale force winds out of the north on Friday night, around the time we would be rounding Cape Hatteras, landing us right in the middle of something called a "North W</span></strong><strong><span style="font-weight: normal;">all Event"***. Our only option was to sail hard and fast for the Gulf Stream and divert into Beaufort, NC before the storm. Under the best of conditions we would have a</span></strong><strong><span style="font-weight: normal;"> margin for error of just hours. Unfortunately, we were not forecast to get anything remotely resembling the best of conditions. By nightfall our wind was supposed to die completely for a 24 hour period, then build rapidly to gale force from the Southwest. By 11PM Wednesday, we were motoring into adverse </span></strong><strong><span style="font-weight: normal;">current, desperately looking for the Gulf Stream. </span></strong><br /></div><br /><div><strong>Thursday, May 1</strong><strong>5th - A Little Reprieve, and a Really Big Fish. No, Seriously.<br /><br /></strong></div>Once again, what a difference a day makes! By Thursday morning the sea was glassy and calm, and there wasn't a breath of air. Motor time! With an eye on both the clock and the fuel gauge, we<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/P5150098-794184.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 213px; height: 284px;" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/P5150098-794178.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a> motored on in continued search of the Gulf Stream. Unfortunately we couldn't seem to buy favorable current, and it appeared we were stuck in one of the eddys that runs counter to the Gulf Stream. We thought we could still make it to Beaufort, but it was going to be tight. About 10AM, Kyle yelled something from up in the cockpit. "FISH! FISH ON!" Kevin had dropped the fishing line in the water at daybreak, and the drag on the reel was screaming under the load of something big. Kyle got the boat stopped quickly and Kevin grabbed the rod. Thirty minutes of exhausting fighting later, we finally brought another spearfish alongside the boat. This one was a monster. Somewhere between 60 and 80 lbs, we had to use a spare halyard to lift him aboard. It took Kyle and Kevin three grueling hours to clean and steak him.<strong></strong><br /><br /><div><strong>Friday, May 16th - Shots Across the Bow & Can't This Thing Go Any Faster?<br /><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br />About 1AM Friday morning the wind began to fill in from the Southwest, as forecast.</span></strong><strong><span style="font-weight: normal;"> Twenty-five knots quickly became 35, and we'd finally hit the Gulf Stream to boot. Good thing too, because we needed to averag</span></strong><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/P5160126-713302.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/P5160126-713235.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a><strong><span style="font-weight: normal;">e a record (for us) 7.75 knots over the next 12 hours to make it into Beaufort before dark. If we failed it would mean spending a night hove-to, riding out a nasty gale within striking distance of land, but helpless to do anything about it. In short order the seas built to catch up with the 35+ knots of wind, and we were flying along at 8+ knots through the water with a double reefed main and just a scrap of headsail flying. As we caught one wave just</span></strong><strong><span style="font-weight: normal;"> right you could feel Cielo accelerate as she surfed down its side and the SOG (speed over ground) jumped up to</span></strong><strong><span style="font-weight: normal;"> 15.2 knots!! At about 7:15AM, as Kevin was listening to the weather forecast, the VHF crackled to life, "This is US Navy Warship 72 conducting live fire exercises in the vicinity of...[coordinates]...request all vessels maintain minimum 12 nautical mile clearance." Kevin was</span></strong><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/P5160145-759712.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/P5160145-759663.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a><strong><span style="font-weight: normal;"> focused solely on the weather and didn't digest the coordinates, but Lizz uttered "Crap..." fro</span></strong><strong><span style="font-weight: normal;">m the cockpit. US Navy Warship 72 and their</span></strong><strong><span style="font-weight: normal;"> live fire exercise were directly in our path, and we were already six nautical miles inside the 12 mile exclusion zone. What's more, diverting around them would have added 20+ nautical miles to our trip, and would have meant there was no way we would make it into Beaufort before dark. Kevin got on the VHF and hailed US Navy Warship 72, the USS Vella Gulf, a 567 foot long Ticonderoga-class guided missile cruiser.<br /><br />Kevin: "US Navy Warship 72, this is the sailing vessel Cielo, we are approximately 6 nautical miles SSE of your position. Please advise. Over."<br /><br />Warship 72: "Roger, Captain. Request you continue SSE rapidly and expand your distance to 12 nautical miles."<br /><br />Kevin: "Sir, we are headed NNW, to Beaufort, not SSE. Over."<br /><br />Warship 72: "Request you head due East and expand your distance to 12 nautical miles immediately, Captain."<br /><br />Kevin: "[pause]. Negative, sir. We have a crew member aboard who needs medication. We can not divert. What is your minimum safe clearance distance? Over."<br /><br />Warship 72: "Three nautical miles, Captian. Any less than that puts you right in the danger zone."<br /><br />By this point, we were 2.25 nautical miles away and closing fast. We gybed over to the other tack to give at least some clearance distance. Suddenly, a fighter jet screamed overhead at low altitude. Within five seconds, we heard a slow, growing whistle coming from above us. Lizz looked up to see a bright red bomb hurtling through the sky, close enough that she could make out the fins on the tail. Apparently it was just a drone that they were using for target practice. There was no explosion, and we never saw it hit the water, but it sure scared the hell out of us. Explosives or no, it would have been a decidedly bad thing for a several hundred pound drone to have hit us at a few hundred miles per hour. Immediately thereafter, Warship 72 started moving towards us at 30+ knots, and gave us a friendly escort until we were clear of the danger zone. We were very grateful.<br /><br />At 6:15PM that evening, we entered Beaufort Inlet. By 7PM Cielo was settled into a slip at a marina for the first time in months, and her crew was headed off to the nearest bar. Kevin hadn't lied about the crew member who required medication. Kyle was in desperate need of a beer.<br /><br /><br /></span></strong><strong><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">***North Wall Event</span> - </span></strong><strong><span style="font-weight: normal;">The Gulf Stream is a</span></strong><strong><span style="font-weight: normal;">bout 50-75 miles wide, </span></strong><strong><span style="font-weight: normal;">moves at up to 4 miles</span></strong><strong><span style="font-weight: normal;"> per hour, and can be 10-20 degrees warmer than the surrounding</span></strong><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/gs_08may07_0209_mult-710182.png"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/gs_08may07_0209_mult-710175.png" alt="" border="0" /></a><strong><span style="font-weight: normal;"> water. Just north of Cape</span></strong><strong><span style="font-weight: normal;"> Hatteras the Stream takes a sharp turn to the Northeast. The</span></strong><strong><span style="font-weight: normal;"> northern edge or "wall" of the Stream is very clearly defined in this area (see picture at right) and the warm, fast, northerly flowing Stream is separated by as little as a quarter mile from the cool, still waters of of the North Atlantic. As low pressure systems move off the US east coast they frequently create gale and storm conditions. In the western half of these systems the wind and seas flow from north to south. When these south moving winds and seas hit the warm, north flowing Gulf Stream it creates incredibly steep, nasty seas and extremely aggravated weather conditions. This is a big part of what makes the area off of Hatteras and the Outer Banks the "Graveyard of the Atlantic".<br /></span></strong></div>Lizzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04989670315581833824noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6854254682849113039.post-85405830003904887272008-05-07T09:45:00.006-04:002008-05-17T18:38:25.594-04:00Knuckle Down<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/knuckles-727679.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/knuckles-727241.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>Glancing down at my red, scraped knuckles as I type, I am reminded of the hard work Cielo’s crew has to been putting in to get her geared up for the 1300-nautical mile passage that lies ahead.<br /><br />Up until yesterday, my time on Cielo seemed more like a vacation on a floating hotel complete with first class drinks made by Kevin, the best bartender in the Northern hemisphere and snacks whipped up by Lizz, who’s evidently been apprenticing Betty Crocker.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/bake-742282.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/bake-739983.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>Within the last 36 hours, this feeling of vacation has been replaced by the serious work that is required when preparing for an extended off-shore passage.<br /><br />We spent all day yesterday prepping for our journey: ferrying food and fuel from town to the boat, boat <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/food-741031.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/food-740535.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>maintenance including changing the fuel filters, preparing provisions and tweaking our planned sailing route.<br /><br />The most physically intense thing I’ve done since coming aboard is clearing Cielo’s hull of growth. The longer a boat sits in the water, the more slimy hairy growth and barnacles she accumulates. Surprisingly, just a small amount of growth can impede our speed through the water by a knot, which would cause us to lose 24 miles of distance every day. 24 miles is a lot of distance when you consider that an average 24-hour run for Cielo is 150 miles. So, with this in mind, we all donned our snorkel gear, grabbed our scrapers and brushes and got to work.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/kev-727202.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10pt 10px 0px; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/kev-726618.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>At first blush, scraping the hull may not seem like a big deal, but I can assure you…. it’s a bitch! The process involves extended breath holding, high aerobic activity, slicing up your hands and taking the occasional gulp of salt water. After about 3 hours of work, Cielo’s hull was clear and I felt very proud of all that our hard work had accomplished.<br /><br />After showering <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/prop-767716.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/prop-767147.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>off, we capped off the day by grilling half-pound burgers and sipping some cocktails while watching the “Best of the Colbert Report” on DVD. Despite the cuts and scrapes, it really was a perfect day. We worked hard and accomplished most of what we needed in order to prepare ourselves for the eight or nine day journey ahead.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/burgers-743062.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/burgers-742448.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>Today we will finalize our route, get the last of the diesel we need and finish off the food prep, since I’ve been told that it can be very tricky to cook anything while underway. If all goes according to our current plan, we should be heading home as of 7 a.m. tomorrow morning, These days of preparation have, for me, finally taken this long sail from a theoretical idea to an imminent reality. I feel like I am at the precipice of an adventure that I cannot fully grasp, but am excited to engage.<br /><br /><br />posted by kylekylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11220661258785968184noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6854254682849113039.post-52246043593171810182008-05-05T13:41:00.009-04:002008-05-05T14:37:07.570-04:00Brunch GuestSo, Lizz and I were enjoying a perfectly pleasant brunch at our favorite spot in Culebra - Mamacita's - when we had an unexpected guest. Check out the pics.<br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/0-721565.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: left; cursor: pointer; width: 164px; height: 112px;" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/0-721163.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/1-779654.jpg"> <img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/1-778895.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/3-744234.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/3-743776.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/4-705214.jpg"> <img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/4-704777.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/5-742553.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/5-742082.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/6-734547.jpg"> <img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://www.sailingcielo.com/uploaded_images/6-734094.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /></div>kylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11220661258785968184noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6854254682849113039.post-64585825310575025942008-05-03T21:22:00.003-04:002008-05-17T19:01:41.989-04:00Best Way BackComing up for air and coughing up salt water that had made its way down my snorkel from the waves crashing on the reef, it was pitch black and we were disoriented. “Do you think is the best way back to the boat?”, Kevin asked.<br /><br />Several hours earlier, when Kevin asked me if I wanted to go lobster hunting on the reef near our anchorage, I immediately agreed. Despite that searching for lobsters required snorkeling in the dark in up to 30 feet of water, I was excited for the adventure. After a sunset snack on deck, we started gearing up for the trip around 7:30 p.m. Though we’re in a tropical climate, the air and water temperature drop at night and with just my board shorts, I realized I was going to be a bit chilly in the cold dark water. With no spare wet suit on board, I improvised by throwing on my fleece grabbing the snorkels, fins, and spear gun and jumping in the dinghy to motor over to the reef.<br /><br />After arriving at the reef we set our anchor, Kevin taught me how to use the spear gun and we plunged into the dark Caribbean Sea. Our waterproof flashlights cut a narrow beam illuminating an otherwise pitch-black underwater environment. As our light hit the reef it exploded in color and texture. Sea life would dart in and out of the crevasses of the reef.<br /><br />The goal was to find a lobster for dinner that night. We searched all over the reef, both snorkeling on the surface and diving below whenever we felt there was a particularly good hiding spot for lobsters. After about an hour and a half of hunting we’d seen exactly zero lobsters. The only good news was that my improvised wet suit was keeping me warm.<br /><br />As this was my first time at both night snorkeling and hunting lobsters with a spear gun, I was a bit apprehensive. However, Kevin is the type of guy that knows everything about everything and on top of that is an experienced lobster hunter, so I completely trusted him. As the night wore on though, I kept thinking that we were getting farther and farther from the dinghy based on the dimming of the light we’d set on the stern. Eventually, we surfaced to talk over the scenario and decided that we had inadvertently swam much further from the dinghy than we had intended. We could faintly make out the stern light in the distance.<br /><br />In order to get back to the boat we had to follow the reef to a gap, which we could swim through to arrive back at the dinghy and safety. As the waves crashed forcefully on my back, Kevin turned to ask me, “Do you think is the best way back to the boat?”. At this point, I was a bit concerned. I began to conjure images of us being washed out to sea and devoured by some ominous sea creature with no one around to hear me scream. I am a guy however, … so instead of voicing my concerns, I gave my best estimate of the proper direction. Thankfully, Kevin agreed with my estimate and after about fifteen minutes of swimming hard along the reef, we finally spotted the anchor line that led to the dinghy. Home sweet home!<br /><br />We arrived back at the boat empty handed, without having spotted a single lobster. We spent the rest of the evening enjoying cold beers, a loser's dinner of cheese tortellini and marinara sauce and planning our next lobster hunting adventure.<br /><br />Posted By: Kylekylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11220661258785968184noreply@blogger.com1