Dylan and Dee Dee discovered the small “window” outside the port galley door soon after moving onto Red Head. That pic was from October 2016 while at New Bern, NC.
Dora loves her little window. Every time she steps out the door, she stops to take a peek. You never know what you might see…
St. Petersburg was high on our list of destinations, but visiting in Dirona would require obtaining Russian visas, not to mention the challenges of bringing the boat into Russia. Special rules for cruise ships and certain passenger ferries, however, allow visa-free stays for up to 72 hours. So we booked a trip from Helsinki on…
Suomenlinna sea fortress was built on an island group outside Helsinki in the 18th century to protect Swedish-held Finland from a Russian attack. Today much of the fort is open to the public and is a popular day-trip from Helsinki. Besides the extensive fort ruins to explore, the island also is a prime viewing location…
Greetings all! Roberta and I are still awaiting the delivery of our new boat. This will be our first summer to be stuck on land in over twenty years. Even though we miss our boat, I must admit we are looking forward to a summer on land. As much as we …
I finally got around to updating the “About Istaboa” section of this blog. Istaboa’s new interior inspired me to take a few photos and pictures often trigger an itch that only writing about them can scratch. I guess every picture does tell a story.
This is the final installment of a multi-part section that covers finding N57-26 back in 2006 and the years aboard Istaboa that have led up to now.
For those into 57s, there’s a lot about N57s in general and Istaboa in particular — See the column to your left.
10 Years After
It’s now 2019: The economy is booming so everything’s great, —however— the boats are getting bigger, the marinas are packed, many of our old favorites have been bought out by large corporations; then there’s the boat fixers and insurance companies.
Things have changed. Flashback to 2014
I guess we miss the easygoing days of the better than average “good” economy, however… we tentatively adjust.
It’s been more than a decade since moving aboard and putting Tennessee behind us – and almost 20 years since we started traveling around on boats. Mel and I have covered a lot of water since those early days. In that time, one of the things we’ve come to realize is, (this may be discouraging to some), our boating lifestyle is never glamorous and rarely exciting, but it is the life we chose and for the most part it’s exactly what we dreamed about —maybe it’s in our DNA, but for sure it’s not just a line item on a list of things to do before we can’t.
Our boating habits have evolved over time, as has our boat. No longer full time liveaboards, we have a home in Jupiter, FL. (Mel and I finally asked the question, “wanna live here?”, one time too many.) We love our little beach house and the simple life there we share with our dogs, nevertheless 90% of our time is devoted to boats/marinas, and still, 3 to 6 months a year is spent aboard.
Our M-O
For us, a good boat trip is to comfortably motor around till we stumble on an out of the way place that’s interesting, not too crowded, then slowly blend in and make it home for a while.
That’s the beauty of this boating thing: home is where the boat is.
Last year we spent 6 weeks in little Georgetown, SC and had a nice time, however, I don’t think we would’ve felt that way 10 years ago. Georgetown’s a very calm and tranquil little harbor town and at this point in our life, tranquility’s a blast.
Years back, The Abacos, Elbow Cay specifically, was home for a while. We once tied up at Sea Spray Marina thinking we’d stay a week and 2 months later we left.
That year the late spring winds, as they often do, blew hard and incessantly into the summer months. The weather kept us tethered to the dock, however that didn’t stop us from making the best of things.
Mel and I made lasting friendships during that long blow that have stood the test of time and in retrospect, if it weren’t for those unfavorable conditions, none of us would’ve ever have taken the time to get to know each other.
During that, “Whisky Wind” (as Junior Maynard, the Dock Master, called it), no matter what kind of boat you owned or what your socioeconomic status was, we all had a part in each other’s good time: everyone dressed similarly, ate the same food, drank the same booze; we were all trapped in paradise together, and life was good..
We once spent 4 months at Compass Cay in the Exumas. Life around the Pipe Creek area was simply special, and after some time we were welcomed to be honorary members of the Rolle family: an honor we’re very proud of.
Eventually, our stores of food and drink were depleted and we learned to get by as the out-island folk do. Departing friends and boaters would kindly leave us their unused provisions, weather permitting, we’d make runs to Staniel Cay where the Blue Store or the Pink Store might have some vegetables, and on a regular basis the local boys would bring us fresh fish.
Tucker taught me how to waste not, “Clean da head, dat’s the best part”, he’d say. Tuck was right, fresh fish head, eyeballs and all, made an excellent stew. (I’d eat the eyeballs, but just for effect… they really have no taste)
Following a nice Bahamian lady’s instructions, a few onions, potatoes, lady peppers, Bahamian thyme, a big clean Grouper head, thrown together and slow cooked in a big pot fed us all for 3 days. Spider crab, lobster, conch – as soon it was known we would cook, things just showed up on the boat and became dinner for those who wanted it.
Maybe it was the astounding blueness, possibly the island vibe, whatever — that long stay was mind altering and forever changed my life perspective. This is when we first experienced the zen of, “being” or — how to exist in the islands and maintain a grip on reality. It took a while, but eventually we settled into island think. Need food? Go fish, or conch. Don’t worry about the small things, never get excited, find some shade with a good breeze, and in between naps, watch the tide roll in and out, and the tourist come and go.
It was quite interesting sitting in the shade of Compass’ dock overhang, watching the many big charter yachts running pell-mell up and down the Exuma chain, picking up or dropping off guests at Staniel Cay, anchoring at Big Majors, selfies with the pigs, then in a panic calling Compass on the VHF to ask Tucker for a slip and shelter from the impending storms.
There was good work done. We brought communications to places where there was none. It took much longer than it would have in the states, but no one cared. Soon it becomes apparent, the aim of Exuma life is to make the best of the moment. You “be”.
We’d take our little Albury to visit the other islands and do what shopping we could, and soon, Mel and I became acquainted with some remarkable and eccentric private island dwellers. They too were happy to have fresh company to get to know.
Running up and down Pipe Creek everyday was like living in a dream. Sometimes I’d just stop the Albury, look in all directions, and take in the view, absorbing every shade of blue imaginable. I remember thinking how lucky we were to be experiencing all of this, and being part of it.
Like backstage passes to paradise.
Late summer, with all the tourist gone, the place is really amazing.
All of this became the norm and soon I grew comfortable running the little-known routes through the rocks and shallows; understanding which run to take at different tide levels, almost as good as the natives. Every rocky point, every shoal, the water color, it all meant something. Like abstruse road signs, and you’d better pay attention to the details or you’d quickly end up high and dry, or worse.
This was a magical time for us, however the spell was broken by September and the peak of hurricane season. It became apparent that it was time for us to move on and we left just days before Hurricane Sandy blew hard across the Exuma chain.
Yes, that four months was extraordinary and we still like to return “home” and fall back into the island life on occasion, but we understand, that’s not our world, it’s there’s, and we’re thankful the Rolles share it with us.
We’ll not wear out our welcome.
The Chesapeake Bay
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The Chesapeake still holds a certain charm and we’ll often bump around up there during hurricane season. Annapolis is our favorite city, Solomons and the Herringtons are our favorite hangs, but many of the historic, boaty little towns are cool.
A bit like the panhandle of Florida, the food is outstanding. Think local crabs and oysters prepared so many ways.
We really like being around the folks on the Chesapeake. For the most part, they’re a live and let live, good natured bunch; they love the Bay and everything about it. We’ve made many memorable acquaintances and some great friends there over the years; we always enjoy going back.
Wherever we go – there we are
We feel fortunate to be able to take our time, keep our plans open, and become acquainted with the many marinas in the many ports along our way. From Tennessee to Nassau, too many places to list, we’ve stuck many pins; some small little out of the way places, others in big cities, but in all our travels the one thing we’ve always found to be true: *No matter where you go, there you are. (*credit either Confucius or Buckaroo Banzai)
If one has a curious eye and takes the time to observe their surroundings, there’s almost always something unique and compelling to be found. (almost)
Maybe a funky little restaurant that serves up the best shrimp and grits, like the Beaufort Cafe, the feeling of home away from home like Pensacola or Brunswick, sometimes it’s just a good vibe and the transcendental “being” thing blossoms, think Compass Cay or Solomons, the helter-skelter of an urban harbor like Nassau or Ft Lauderdale, or the stillness of a sunset on the Sassafras River, it really doesn’t matter where you are, if you’re experiencing life from a boat, it’s probably pretty good.
“And remember, no matter where you go, there you are.”
We also love this verse from “The Boxer” — we too look for those places.
Laying low, seeking out the poorer quarters
Where the ragged people go
Looking for the places
Only they would know
Lie, la lie
So now we’ve become seasoned boaters, which is a kind way of saying we’re getting older, (which is a kind way of saying we’re approaching old AF) and the days of ambitious boat trips may be winding down for us. Never say never, though we’re quite content bumping around familiar places.
So with all that said, I’ll sum it up with this mental image…
At the end of a long day, there are few things more comfortable than following an old track line into a peaceful harbor and tying up in the sunset.
That’s pleasure boating
I finally got around to updating the “About Istaboa” section of this blog.
Istaboa’s new interior
inspired me to take a few photos and pictures often trigger an itch that only
writing about them can scratch. I guess every picture does tell a story.
This is the final installment of a multi-part section that covers finding N57-26
back in 2006 and the years aboard Istaboa that have led up to now.
For those into 57s, there’s a lot about N57s in general and Istaboa in
particular — See the column to your left.
10 Years After
It’s now 2020: The economy is booming, everything’s great, —however— the boats
are getting bigger and the docks are packed with them. Many of our favorite
marinas have been bought out by large corporations, gutted of their
personalities, and it seems a knowledgeable dock staff is a relic from days gone by. Due to this current illusion of prosperity, the boat fixers are busy, most
are arrogant, and they’re all elusive.
I’m getting older (and grumpier) and time is flying by, but it seems things have
changed dramatically in just a short time —Flashback to 2014
I guess we miss the easygoing days of the plain old “good” economy, however…
we tentatively adjust.
Still — life’s good.
—
Now a decade since moving aboard and putting Tennessee behind us; almost 20
years since we first started traveling about in boats, Mel and I have covered a
lot of water. And in all that time, at least one thing has become apparent, our
boating lifestyle is never glamorous and rarely exciting, but it is the life we
chose and for the most part it’s exactly what we dreamed it would be —
probably in our DNA, but for sure our life aboard is not just a line item on a
list of things to do before we can’t.
Like us, our boating habits have matured, as has our boat. No longer full time
liveaboards, we have a home in Jupiter, FL. (Mel and I finally asked the
question, “wanna live here?”, one time too many.) We love our little beach house
and the simple life there we share with our dogs, nevertheless 90% of our time
is devoted to boats/marinas, and still, 3 to 6 months a year is spent aboard.
Our M-O
For us, and I’m not promoting our lifestyle as the boat life everyone should
subscribe too, but — for us — a good boat trip is to comfortably motor
around till we stumble on an out of the way place that’s interesting but not too
crowded, then slowly blend in and make it home for a while.
That’s the beauty of this boating thing: home is where the boat is.
Last year we spent
6 weeks in little Georgetown, SC
and had quite a nice time, however, I don’t think we would’ve felt that way 10
years ago. Georgetown’s a very calm and tranquil little harbor town — at this
point in our life, tranquility’s a blast.
Years ago, The Abacos, Elbow Cay specifically, was home for a while. We once
tied up at Sea Spray Marina thinking we’d stay a few days and 2 months later we
left.
That year the late spring winds, as they often do, blew hard and incessantly
into the summer months. The weather kept us tethered to the dock, however that
didn’t stop us from making the best of the situation.
Mel and I made lasting friendships during that long blow that have stood the
test of time and in retrospect, if it weren’t for those unfavorable conditions,
none of us would’ve ever taken the time to get to know each other.
During that, “Whisky Wind” (as Junior Maynard, the Dock Master, called it), no
matter what kind of boat you owned or what your socioeconomic status was, we all
played a part in each other’s good time: everyone dressed similarly, ate the
same food, drank the same booze; we were all
trapped in paradise together, and life was good..
We once lived at
Compass Cay in the Exumas. for a while. Life around the Pipe Creek area was simply special, and after some time we
were welcomed to be honorary members of the Rolle family: an honor we’re very
proud of.
About two months into that stay, our stores of food and drink were depleted and
we learned to get by as the out-island folk do. Departing friends and boaters
would generously leave us their unused provisions, weather permitting and if the
mail boat showed, we’d make runs to Staniel Cay where the Blue Store or the Pink
Store might have some vegetables, and on a regular basis the local boys would
bring us fresh fish.
Tucker taught me how to waste not, “Clean da head, don’t tro it away, dat’s da
best part”, he’d say. Tuck was right, fresh fish head, eyeballs and all, made an
excellent stew. (I’d eat the eyeballs, but just for effect… they really have
no taste)
Following a nice Bahamian lady’s instructions, a few onions, potatoes, lady
peppers, Bahamian thyme, a big clean Grouper head, thrown together and slow
cooked in a big pot fed us all for 3 days. Spider crab, lobster, conch – as soon
it was known we would cook, things just showed up on the boat and became dinner
for those who wanted it.
Tings to do wit fish
Maybe it was the overwhelming expanse of blueness, possibly the absence of
complication, probably the combination of all that and more, nevertheless that
long stay really was mind altering and forever changed my perspective. This is
when we first experienced the
zen of being -or- How to exist in the Exumas and not lose your grip on reality.
It took a while, but eventually we settled into island think. Need food? Go
fish, or conch: Don’t worry about the small things, never get excited, find some
shade with a good breeze, and in between naps, watch the tide roll in and out,
and the tour boats come and go.
Kicking back in one of the ragged lounge chairs scattered around the shade of
the Compass office overhang, it was amusing watching the many big charter yachts
running pell-mell up and down the Exuma chain. Their crews were always busy
picking up or dropping off charters at Staniel Cay then anchoring at Big Majors
where their guests would take selfies with the pigs then, as they turned to walk
away, have one of those cute pigs bite them on the ass.
In the mean time, back in the shade, (and disrupting my naps, I might add), the
ancient VHF radio would be constantly crackling, “Compass Cay, Compass
Cay” and if Jamal answered, the yacht Caps would chat him up in hopes of
scoring a slip and shelter from the impending storms.
There was good work done.
We brought communications to places where there was none. Those projects took
much longer than they would have in the states, but no one cared. Soon it
becomes apparent, the aim of Exuma life is to make the best of the moment. You
“be”.
We’d take our little Albury to visit the other islands and do what shopping we
could, and soon, Mel and I became acquainted with some remarkable and
eccentric private island dwellers. They too were happy to have fresh company to get to know.
Running up and down Pipe Creek everyday was like living in a dream. Sometimes
I’d just stop the Albury, look in all directions, and take in the view,
absorbing every shade of blue imaginable. Not a day went by without thinking how
lucky we were to be experiencing all of this, and being part of it.
Like backstage passes to paradise.
Late summer, sans tourist, the place is really amazing.
As evidenced by the video below, Compass can become very crowded during season –
gentrification strikes again – still a beautiful place, though.
Cat Stevens – Longer Boats
All of this became the norm and soon I grew confident running the Albury around
the little-known routes through the rocks and shallows; understanding which run
to take at different tide levels, almost as good as the natives. Every rocky
point, every shoal, the water color, it all means something. Like obscure road
signs, you’d better pay attention to the details or you’d quickly end up on a
coral head, high and dry, or worse.
This was a magical time for us, however the spell was broken by September and
the peak of hurricane season. It became apparent that it was time for us to move
on and we left just days before Hurricane Sandy blew hard across the Exuma
chain.
Yes, that four months was an amazing experience and we still like to return
“home” and fall back into Compass life on occasion. We understand and respect;
it’s not our world, it’s there’s, and we’re thankful the Rolles share it with
us.
We’ll not wear out our welcome.
The Chesapeake Bay
The Chesapeake still holds a certain charm and we’ll often bump around up there
during hurricane season. Annapolis is our favorite city, Solomons and the
Herringtons are our favorite hangs, but many of the historic, boaty little towns
are cool.
A bit like the panhandle of Florida, the food is simple and good. Think local
crabs and oysters prepared so many ways.
We really like being around the folks on the Chesapeake. For the most part,
they’re an authentic live and let live, good natured bunch; they love the Bay
and everything about it. We’ve made many memorable acquaintances and some great
friends there over the years; we always enjoy going back.
Wherever we go – there we are
We feel fortunate to be able to take our time, keep plans open-ended, and become
up close and personal with the many marinas in the many harbors along our way.
From Tennessee to Nassau, too many places to list, we’ve made ourselves at home.
In all our travels there’s one thing we’ve always found to be true: *No matter
where you go, there you are. (*credit either Confucius or
Buckaroo Banzai)
If one has a curious eye and takes the time to look around, there’s almost
always something unique and compelling to be found. (almost)
Maybe a funky little restaurant that serves up the best shrimp and grits, like
the Beaufort Cafe, the familiar comforts of Brunswick, GA, sometimes it’s just
simple naturalness and the transcendental “being” thing happens, think Compass
Cay. It can be as contrasting as the helter-skelter of an urban harbor like
Nassau or the stillness of the Sassafras River, it really doesn’t matter where
you are, if you’re experiencing life from a boat, it’s probably pretty good.
“And remember, no matter where you go, there you are.”
We also love this verse from “The Boxer” — we too look for those places.
Laying low, seeking out the poorer quarters
Where the ragged people go
Looking for the places
Only they would know
Lie, la lie
So now we’ve become seasoned boaters, which is a kind way of saying we’re
getting older, (which is a kind way of saying we’re approaching old AF) and the
days of ambitious boat trips may be winding down for us. Never say never, though
we’re quite content bumping around familiar places.
So with all that said, I’ll sum it up with this mental image…
At the end of a long day, there are few things more comfortable than following
an old track line into a peaceful harbor and tying up in the sunset.
That’s pleasure boating
Tallinn, the capital of Estonia, was a German-dominated Hanseatic League port starting in the early 13th century and has a marvellously preserved Old Town, one of the best in Europe. The city also has an excellent maritime museum, a TV tower with great views and a wonderfully restored 18th-century Russian palace and grounds. And Tallinn…
After our return from England on May 2, we quickly turned our attention to getting ready for our cruise (the ninth, Yikes!) to Alaska. Once again, an astounding amount of stuff found its way from grocery shelves to our lockers.
A predawn start on May 15 allowed us to maximize the benefit of currents and arrive at Reid Harbor on Stuart Island mid-afternoon. The next day we went to Port Sidney where we cleared customs, ran an errand in Victoria and did our Canadian provisioning of fruits and vegetables we aren’t permitted to bring across the border.
The next day we motored over to Tod Inlet then dinghied to the boater’s entrance for Butchart Gardens. They were lovely as always and we enjoyed a high tea meal at the restaurant (they should provide more clotted cream with the scones, IMHO). It was early enough that we decided to pull anchor and spend the night at Montague Harbor to better position ourselves for slack water at Dodd Narrows the next day.
The trip up to Port McNeill went smoothly with generally smooth waters (Lasquiti Island, Gowlland Harbour and Port Harvey). While at Port McNeill, we took part of a day to visit the U’mista Museum in Alert Bay.
Rather than stay in Port McNeill while waiting for suitable weather to round Cape Caution, we headed into the Broughtons for a couple of nights (Waddington and Turnbull) then positioned in Blunden Harbor. Conditions were pretty good around Cape Caution and we ended up not putting the stabilizers in the water (but the poles were out and the stabilizers were ready to be dropped overboard).
Unlike in past years, we decided to try our luck with fishing in BC on the way up rather than race through. We did pretty well with prawns in Fish Egg Inlet but struck out with salmon fishing in Hakai Pass. After three night’s in the Fitz Hugh Sound area (Joe’s Bay, Lewall Inlet and Pruth Bay) we decided to keep heading north. Fishing attempts were made in Laredo Channel and Otter Channel but no luck.
The next area we tried was in Chatham Sound west of Prince Rupert. On the final troll through the area and minutes before we were going to call it quits, Marcia felt the tug on the pole and reeled in a lovely chinook salmon. Within a few minutes of bringing the fish on board, a Canadian Fisheries patrol boat came by and inspected our fishing licenses. I think they were impressed with the efficiency Marcia presented them with the just caught salmon already recorded. The winds and seas were calm so we drifted in the channel and rain while Marcia cleaned and fileted the fish.
We tried for a repeat success in the same area the next morning but to no avail. We headed north and with the permission of the CBP we crossed border to spend the night in Foggy Bay before arriving and officially clearing in Ketchikan the next morning, June 4.
We’re going to do a short trip around Revillagigedo Island (the island on which Ketchikan is located) then return to Ketchikan for a day or so. After that we’ll start heading towards Sitka.
Our sweet Dylan turns 12 today.
He’s just as cute as the day we brought him home.
Dad is lobbying for birthday cupcakes. Mom just wants to cuddle her handsome boy.
Thank you, Dylan, for 12 wonderful years. There’s still many adventures to come.
Katajanokka Island is home to Helsinki Marina, where Dirona berthed for two weeks, and to several large commercial docks, including the Icebreaker Base and the terminal for Viking Line ferries. The island also has some beautiful Art Nouveau buildings and a wonderful modern construct, the Allas Sea Pool, with terraced decks overlooking the harbour. On…
