Nobody told me there’d be days like these.Nordhavn 57-26 Istaboa
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I think they’re taking it seriously.Stay safe and healthy -Nordhavn 57-26 Istaboa
Several land based projects are standing in the way of any cruising plans this year, but it does look like we’ll be moving aboard soon. We’re renovating our home in Jupiter and having lived amidst that before – we’ll not do it not again. Our new home p…
Traveling the British Waterways – Across England and Wales our 2,000 miles of canals and rivers flow through cities, past homes, alongside offices and out into glorious countryside.Many very narrow tunnels that can be several miles long. Lots of tiny…
Designed by Venezuelan artist Carlos Cruz- Diez and inspired by the camouflage used on naval ships in the First World War, The Edmund GardnerCruz-Diez, Venezuelan kinetic artist, dies in Paris at 95https://uk.reuters.com/article/uk-venezuela-art-cruzdi…
Marina Cam at Herrington Harbour South Marina. One of the many cams the good folks at HHS had onSpot install.The babies are getting big – soon to fly away.Thanks Herrington Harbour – Very Cool Link to other onSpot wifi Marina Cams&nbs…
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.
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..
Every Sunday morning was breakfast with Brenda’s Bloodies providing post party pain relief.
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
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
April: For a dose of reality, it’s kinda nice to leave the beach, the manicured seaside estates with swaying palm trees, Jupiter’s near perfect winter weather, and make the 1000 mile drive up to funky old Memphis for some needed contrast, and, to see what our old home town is up to.
We were pleased to find our neighborhood booming with cool new developments of renovated old buildings. The old brewery next door has been transformed into luxury apartments and the old train station will soon be an upscale boutique hotel. An eclectic mix of restaurants are popping up everywhere and they appear to be busy. The area is thriving with young folks zipping around on those annoying little electric scooters and the trolley cars are running again. Yep, it seems like Downtown Memphis is finally enjoying a long awaited resurgence.
Springtime brings out the best of Memphis
Springtime means Azaleas and Dogwoods are blooming everywhere you look and the locals are happily leaving their grumpy ways inside as they come out with smiling faces and neighborly attitudes. Everyone has been held hostage by winter’s grip and finally, spring awards them with a deserved respite from the cold, damp, river winds downtown Memphis has endured for months.
April is the month for local festivals before the massive Memphis in May International Festival cranks up and downtown is inundated with hundreds of thousands of tourists. Our local fav is the Crawfish Fest – we can’t seem to find Crawfish in Jupiter or anywhere along the east coast, but in Memphis, in April, they’re everywhere, every weekend.
As we always do we’ve enjoyed our stay, old friends, the authentic funkiness that Memphis has an abundance of, and the excellent food; however, it’s about time to pack up and bid adieu.
It’s time head back to Florida.
There’s a boat trip in our future.
Adios, River City — See y’all in the Fall