[Flying Pig Log] Back in George Town
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Lydia Fell
May 8, 2010, 12:42:33 AM5/8/10
to flyingpiglog
05/07/10
We’ve been back in George Town for a couple of weeks now, returning to a world of relative civilization in comparison to our Jumentos trip. It’s the Yin and Yang dynamics at work again; as much as the Jumentos were indescribably beautiful, and playing castaways for nearly three weeks was one of the high points of all our cruising adventures, it’s really good to have an internet connection again.
This lust for connectivity bothers me greatly, but yet, my need to be in touch with my children and Harrison is profound. Knowing that we’ll be out of touch for a few weeks while we sail off the grid is tolerable, but eventually, without Skype, and a video connection to Harrison, I start languishing. While we were in the Jumentos, Skip was able to send email via his SSB Ham radio, albeit over a connection that was worse than the old dial-up speeds, but it was enough to receive important, or emergency news. So it was while we were out there that we learned of my daughter, Emily’s engagement to Patrick.
This wasn’t really unexpected, and was more like anxiously anticipated, but receiving this happy news in a remote area suddenly became incredibly frustrating because I was unable, of course, to communicate with Emily. I was longing to talk to her about her about all their plans, but mostly, I just wanted to share her joy and excitement. Not being able to do this at will was frustrating, and it represents the only negative, for me, of living this lifestyle.
Ten years ago, very few cruisers carried laptops on board, and they had no internet connection without going ashore to an Internet Café, when they were fortunate enough to find one. As a result, when they sailed away from their families and friends, they were truly “gone”. Today, some sailors have satellite phones, on which they can also get an internet connection, and there are many other sophisticated methods of obtaining wifi from your boat for the rest of us. We have a wonderful system on Flying Pig, designed and sold by a gem of a guy who is also a sailor, with an antenna on the top of our mast which can reach a signal up to 10 miles away. Many cruisers in George Town have inquired about our set up, and Skip did a beach seminar on the subject again this year, but since we’ve been back from the Jumentos, we’ve had a dozen or more cruisers request to come aboard to learn more about it. Skip is unfailingly generous with his time and knowledge for these people, having spent hundreds of frustrating hours struggling with attempting to make various systems work, until he found our present system. It’s an area he’s well versed on by now, and he’s always happy to contribute to the cruising community.
George Town was celebrating it’s Family Island Regatta when we got back here, an annual event to which Bahamians flood in from other islands to compete in several days of racing in their unique, classic boats. These boats, which are replicas of the old Bahamian fishing boats, have simply enormous masts and sails for the given hull size. Hiking boards on the windward side of the boat have room for several (or, many, depending on the size of the boat) seated people, their weight balancing the leeward heel lest the boat should broach and “fall over” into the water. Since these are all open boats, such an occasion would result in a sinking.
The races were beautiful to behold, and competition was very serious. There were a few accidents, including a broach which was caused by a collision, but no one was hurt and the boat was salvaged successfully. The evenings were loudly celebratory, and “cruisers’ midnight” of 9 pm bedtimes were abandoned for the next many days until Regatta was over.
Once Regatta week was over, there was a constant string of departing sailboats, heading back to the States for the spring and summer months. It really emptied out here, and moving the boat over to Kidd’s Cove, which is very shallow, but next to town and infinitely closer to groceries, laundry, water and fuel supplies, made sense. However, for the most part we hopped back and forth from Stocking Island to George Town while we were timing tides, so as not to go aground in skinny water while we were provisioning. As a lovely bi-product of that exercise, Portia got so accustomed to hearing the engine crank every day, it became a non-event for her, finally.
While we were deeply engrossed in refilling our nearly empty water tanks, (carting eight 5-gallon jugs at a time from the reverse osmosis tap at the dinghy dock nearby), Don and Sue Haynie arrived on their boat, “Song” and dropped anchor next to us. The last time we saw them was in their home in St. Pete, during our refit three years ago. Small world out here.
320 gallons of water and 60 gallons of fuel later, we caught up with Don and Sue, shared dinner on their boat, and then on ours, and heard all about their plans to sail south to the Caribbean. They’re waiting for some parts to arrive, but are then ready to head down the Thorny Path (so-called because of predominant trade winds on your nose) towards the Dominican Republic, Puerto Rico and the Virgin Islands. Hopefully, we’ll be headed that way ourselves next year after Emily and Patrick’s wedding in the spring. They have Max, their Westie with them, who’s adapting well to life aboard having been a land lubber all his life, and while any pet aboard is high maintenance, he’s wonderful company and a funny little guy.
Meanwhile, we’ve been tracking our friends, Roy and Doon, Kiwis who shared the trials and tribulations of life in the boat yard at Salt Creek Marina in St. Pete when we were refitting our boat, and they were purchasing one and getting ready to sail south. We’ve bumped into them here and there along our separate routes, but now they’re returning from a year in the Caribbean and are heading back to the States to put their boat, “Bold Endeavour” up for sale. Like a lot of cruisers, their kitty has run dry and it’s time to head back into the Matrix for jobs. We’re desperately sorry to see them get off the water; as Roy commented, three years at sea has simply flown by for them. But their spirits are good, and they’re ready for the next phase of their lives. We’re not decided yet where we’re going to meet up with them, but within another week, I expect we’ll drop our anchor next to theirs at a mutually agreed island, and hopefully, accompany them north to the Nassau area, where they’ll peel off west to Florida, and we’ll continue north, back to Abaco.
For the past couple of days, we’ve been blissfully anchored off Hamburger Beach, further north on Stocking Island from Volley Ball Beach, our usual anchorage. We motored the boat down here for Cinco de Mayo, where a good number of cruisers gathered at the beach, and had a marvelous time at the Sandbar bar/eatery. Alvin, the local diesel guru and new proprietor of the Sandbar, had gallons of margaritas on special, fabulous hamburgers available, but also allowed the cruisers to do their own pot-luck. Great fun was had by all, and Alvin made sure that everyone got Tequila shooters on the house. Some of us survived the evening better than others.
Yesterday, while Skip was diving the bottom of the boat again, I went for a 3 hour walk, exploring parts of this island that I’ve never seen before, finding exquisitely beautiful, deserted beaches, new paths across the island that I had to explore, and an amazing camp, nestled in the cassuarina trees. I found a few more shells for the wind-chime I want to make Harrison when we go back in July to see the family, but alas, no sea beans. With spring here, the native heather is poised to burst into flower, and the convolvulus vine is a blaze of purple. It isn’t N Georgia, with it’s azaleas and dogwood trees, but it’s still very beautiful in its own way.
Portia is sitting on my table as I write, alternately mithering me to play with her, and scratching herself. She’s been scratching herself bare since a few weeks after we returned to the boat from Georgia in late January, and since it isn’t fleas, and there’s been no other change in her diet until recently, I’ve worried that it’s emotional. Taking her ashore when we go to Jessica’s, where she’s clearly elated to become a “normal” cat, has always made the transition back to the boat harder on her, and I’ve been searching my soul about the quality of life that she’s missing when she’s aboard. No mice, no trees, no long grass. I’ll keep you posted.
And, if you’re interested, here are some links to some of the more recent pictures. You’ll have to forgive me; I’m not much of an editor, because my main purpose for posting my pictures on Picasa Web Albums is to make sure that I don’t lose them the next time my laptop dies of salt air corrosion. Unfortunately, what that means for you is too many pictures. Here are the links:
http://picasaweb.google.com/lafell/TripToLittleHarbourAndSandyPoint
http://picasaweb.google.com/lafell/GeorgeTown
http://picasaweb.google.com/lafell/LongIsland
http://picasaweb.google.com/lafell/RaggedIsland
Until next time, take care, be happy -
Love, Lydia
S/V Flying Pig
Morgan 46 #2
"The only way to live is to have a dream green and growing in your life - anything else is just existing and is a waste of breath."
Ann Davison
--
You received this message because you are subscribed to the Google Groups "Flying Pig Log" mailing list. It is Lydia's "warm-fuzzy" posting site for updates on our adventures. You'll only see brief messages of a non-technical nature here.
To unsubscribe from this group, send email to (click this link) flyingpiglog...@googlegroups.com
For more options, visit this group at http://groups.google.com/group/flyingpiglog
Email to this group (or a reply to this posting) will go only to Skip and Lydia. For an interactive, more in-depth discussion of what's happening aboard, you may wish to join http://groups.yahoo.com/group/TheFlyingPigLog/
We’ve been back in George Town for a couple of weeks now, returning to a world of relative civilization in comparison to our Jumentos trip. It’s the Yin and Yang dynamics at work again; as much as the Jumentos were indescribably beautiful, and playing castaways for nearly three weeks was one of the high points of all our cruising adventures, it’s really good to have an internet connection again.
This lust for connectivity bothers me greatly, but yet, my need to be in touch with my children and Harrison is profound. Knowing that we’ll be out of touch for a few weeks while we sail off the grid is tolerable, but eventually, without Skype, and a video connection to Harrison, I start languishing. While we were in the Jumentos, Skip was able to send email via his SSB Ham radio, albeit over a connection that was worse than the old dial-up speeds, but it was enough to receive important, or emergency news. So it was while we were out there that we learned of my daughter, Emily’s engagement to Patrick.
This wasn’t really unexpected, and was more like anxiously anticipated, but receiving this happy news in a remote area suddenly became incredibly frustrating because I was unable, of course, to communicate with Emily. I was longing to talk to her about her about all their plans, but mostly, I just wanted to share her joy and excitement. Not being able to do this at will was frustrating, and it represents the only negative, for me, of living this lifestyle.
Ten years ago, very few cruisers carried laptops on board, and they had no internet connection without going ashore to an Internet Café, when they were fortunate enough to find one. As a result, when they sailed away from their families and friends, they were truly “gone”. Today, some sailors have satellite phones, on which they can also get an internet connection, and there are many other sophisticated methods of obtaining wifi from your boat for the rest of us. We have a wonderful system on Flying Pig, designed and sold by a gem of a guy who is also a sailor, with an antenna on the top of our mast which can reach a signal up to 10 miles away. Many cruisers in George Town have inquired about our set up, and Skip did a beach seminar on the subject again this year, but since we’ve been back from the Jumentos, we’ve had a dozen or more cruisers request to come aboard to learn more about it. Skip is unfailingly generous with his time and knowledge for these people, having spent hundreds of frustrating hours struggling with attempting to make various systems work, until he found our present system. It’s an area he’s well versed on by now, and he’s always happy to contribute to the cruising community.
George Town was celebrating it’s Family Island Regatta when we got back here, an annual event to which Bahamians flood in from other islands to compete in several days of racing in their unique, classic boats. These boats, which are replicas of the old Bahamian fishing boats, have simply enormous masts and sails for the given hull size. Hiking boards on the windward side of the boat have room for several (or, many, depending on the size of the boat) seated people, their weight balancing the leeward heel lest the boat should broach and “fall over” into the water. Since these are all open boats, such an occasion would result in a sinking.
The races were beautiful to behold, and competition was very serious. There were a few accidents, including a broach which was caused by a collision, but no one was hurt and the boat was salvaged successfully. The evenings were loudly celebratory, and “cruisers’ midnight” of 9 pm bedtimes were abandoned for the next many days until Regatta was over.
Once Regatta week was over, there was a constant string of departing sailboats, heading back to the States for the spring and summer months. It really emptied out here, and moving the boat over to Kidd’s Cove, which is very shallow, but next to town and infinitely closer to groceries, laundry, water and fuel supplies, made sense. However, for the most part we hopped back and forth from Stocking Island to George Town while we were timing tides, so as not to go aground in skinny water while we were provisioning. As a lovely bi-product of that exercise, Portia got so accustomed to hearing the engine crank every day, it became a non-event for her, finally.
While we were deeply engrossed in refilling our nearly empty water tanks, (carting eight 5-gallon jugs at a time from the reverse osmosis tap at the dinghy dock nearby), Don and Sue Haynie arrived on their boat, “Song” and dropped anchor next to us. The last time we saw them was in their home in St. Pete, during our refit three years ago. Small world out here.
320 gallons of water and 60 gallons of fuel later, we caught up with Don and Sue, shared dinner on their boat, and then on ours, and heard all about their plans to sail south to the Caribbean. They’re waiting for some parts to arrive, but are then ready to head down the Thorny Path (so-called because of predominant trade winds on your nose) towards the Dominican Republic, Puerto Rico and the Virgin Islands. Hopefully, we’ll be headed that way ourselves next year after Emily and Patrick’s wedding in the spring. They have Max, their Westie with them, who’s adapting well to life aboard having been a land lubber all his life, and while any pet aboard is high maintenance, he’s wonderful company and a funny little guy.
Meanwhile, we’ve been tracking our friends, Roy and Doon, Kiwis who shared the trials and tribulations of life in the boat yard at Salt Creek Marina in St. Pete when we were refitting our boat, and they were purchasing one and getting ready to sail south. We’ve bumped into them here and there along our separate routes, but now they’re returning from a year in the Caribbean and are heading back to the States to put their boat, “Bold Endeavour” up for sale. Like a lot of cruisers, their kitty has run dry and it’s time to head back into the Matrix for jobs. We’re desperately sorry to see them get off the water; as Roy commented, three years at sea has simply flown by for them. But their spirits are good, and they’re ready for the next phase of their lives. We’re not decided yet where we’re going to meet up with them, but within another week, I expect we’ll drop our anchor next to theirs at a mutually agreed island, and hopefully, accompany them north to the Nassau area, where they’ll peel off west to Florida, and we’ll continue north, back to Abaco.
For the past couple of days, we’ve been blissfully anchored off Hamburger Beach, further north on Stocking Island from Volley Ball Beach, our usual anchorage. We motored the boat down here for Cinco de Mayo, where a good number of cruisers gathered at the beach, and had a marvelous time at the Sandbar bar/eatery. Alvin, the local diesel guru and new proprietor of the Sandbar, had gallons of margaritas on special, fabulous hamburgers available, but also allowed the cruisers to do their own pot-luck. Great fun was had by all, and Alvin made sure that everyone got Tequila shooters on the house. Some of us survived the evening better than others.
Yesterday, while Skip was diving the bottom of the boat again, I went for a 3 hour walk, exploring parts of this island that I’ve never seen before, finding exquisitely beautiful, deserted beaches, new paths across the island that I had to explore, and an amazing camp, nestled in the cassuarina trees. I found a few more shells for the wind-chime I want to make Harrison when we go back in July to see the family, but alas, no sea beans. With spring here, the native heather is poised to burst into flower, and the convolvulus vine is a blaze of purple. It isn’t N Georgia, with it’s azaleas and dogwood trees, but it’s still very beautiful in its own way.
Portia is sitting on my table as I write, alternately mithering me to play with her, and scratching herself. She’s been scratching herself bare since a few weeks after we returned to the boat from Georgia in late January, and since it isn’t fleas, and there’s been no other change in her diet until recently, I’ve worried that it’s emotional. Taking her ashore when we go to Jessica’s, where she’s clearly elated to become a “normal” cat, has always made the transition back to the boat harder on her, and I’ve been searching my soul about the quality of life that she’s missing when she’s aboard. No mice, no trees, no long grass. I’ll keep you posted.
And, if you’re interested, here are some links to some of the more recent pictures. You’ll have to forgive me; I’m not much of an editor, because my main purpose for posting my pictures on Picasa Web Albums is to make sure that I don’t lose them the next time my laptop dies of salt air corrosion. Unfortunately, what that means for you is too many pictures. Here are the links:
http://picasaweb.google.com/lafell/TripToLittleHarbourAndSandyPoint
http://picasaweb.google.com/lafell/GeorgeTown
http://picasaweb.google.com/lafell/LongIsland
http://picasaweb.google.com/lafell/RaggedIsland
Until next time, take care, be happy -
Love, Lydia
S/V Flying Pig
Morgan 46 #2
"The only way to live is to have a dream green and growing in your life - anything else is just existing and is a waste of breath."
Ann Davison
--
You received this message because you are subscribed to the Google Groups "Flying Pig Log" mailing list. It is Lydia's "warm-fuzzy" posting site for updates on our adventures. You'll only see brief messages of a non-technical nature here.
To unsubscribe from this group, send email to (click this link) flyingpiglog...@googlegroups.com
For more options, visit this group at http://groups.google.com/group/flyingpiglog
Email to this group (or a reply to this posting) will go only to Skip and Lydia. For an interactive, more in-depth discussion of what's happening aboard, you may wish to join http://groups.yahoo.com/group/TheFlyingPigLog/
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