The 4 Rules for Surviving Long Passages

We lined up for the mooring ball again. I reached as far as I could with the boat hook; not far enough. I was yelling into the headset BOW TO PORT, BOW TO PORT as we drifted past it, out of reach, a third time. Lance was frustrated, yelling back THE BOAT STILL WON'T RESPOND. We were drifting down onto the neighboring boat in the crowded mooring field. Her crew was alert on deck, hands on hips (this pose is known among cruisers as Bitch Wings, and in this case we deserved it). Our shouting had raised the attention of the other neighboring vessels, their crew were also standing on their decks, eyes wide, enjoying the drama but also hoping not to become part of it. There was a smattering of Bitch Wings in the crowd. Surely we looked like newbies. Or, even worse, credit card captains. A helpful neighbor took pity on us and dinghied out to wait at the ball to help us loop through it.

Night Passage to the Dominican Republic

Brain cells started to sluggishly click into place. There was just not enough wind for Minerva to be fighting us like this. Something basic had to be wrong. That's when we noticed the mizzen sail was still up. Doh! No wonder the boat wouldn't turn - we had a sail on her tail acting like a big wind rudder. A quick release of the mizzen sheet and the sail relaxed, Lance regained close-quarter control and we slowly approached the ball, I handed the mooring line to our new friend on his dinghy. Minerva was secured.

As always, we did the post-mortem over a cold beverage when emotions had calmed and flop sweat had dried. How did we get here? How did we become the day's entertainment?

We broke rules #1, 2 and 3. That's how.

RULES FOR A SUCCESSFUL PASSAGE

1. Keep it Simple. You will arrive tired. Do everything you can in advance. 
1. Study the chart
2. Know the arrival rules 
• Can you rest when you arrive or does Bureaucracy insist that check in  happen immediately
• Have your paperwork in order, ready to grab and go
• Know who to call or where to go (and in our case, where can the dog pee like right now right now right now)
3. Have a backup plan in place in case your planned arrival location doesn't work out
4. Assume everything you need on passage will be difficult to dig out in the dark or when tired, pull it out so it's handy or at least think through how to put hands on it in the dark
2. Sleep when you are not on watch. No reading, listening to music, watching videos, texting, no working on the laptop unless these things actively contribute to making you sleepy. Not tired? Doesn't matter. Lay down and try to sleep anyways whenever you are not actively on watch. Tricks like imagining your body going numb one portion at a time, or acknowledging and actively releasing intrusive thoughts without giving them real attention are helpful.
3. Be Kind. The rest of the crew will also be tired, and brains will not be functioning at 100%. Be gracious. Check one another's work, two heads are better than one.
4. Prepare One-Handed Meals in Advance. A hangry crew doesn't behave well. This one has saved our bacon time and time again when conditions went sideways and hangry started rearing its ugly head and heading towards total assault on rule #3. Most memorable was the passage from Curacao to St. Croix when the autopilot went out forcing us to hand-steer for the last 30 hours, that one-handed meal prep was a lifesaver.

This particular trip was a dream ride along the North Coast of the Dominican Republic. The first day we encountered the typical confused seas of the Mona Passage, and the wind and swell were both much more than predicted but still manageable. By the time we reached the Dominican Republic side of the Mona, the swells started to soften and lengthen into a very comfortable lazy stern swell, sometimes with agreeable current. We traded the jib for a spinnaker and sailed that way all of day #2. Sometime in the night on the home stretch the wind completely died and the spinnaker was put away, the engine deployed and the mizzen tightened down. We came into Luperon that way, after a little over 50 hours at sea. Lance hadn't slept well. We were fixated on the fish pots reported to lurk around the bay entrance the last hour or so and neither of us remembered to take the mizzen sail down (rule #1, should have done it in advance when the sun first came out, and before we reached the fish pots. We were busy drinking coffee instead and completely forgot our trusty mizzen sail on flopper-stopper duty out back).

So we were the afternoon's entertainment. So what. There wasn't any damage, and everyone's been there. Luperon is a tight cruiser community, word has surely gotten around by now about the dorks on Minerva. We'll go to the Thursday mixer and take our lumps.

Spinnaker Sailing is the Best

Wet 'n' wild landing in Grenada

Our dreams were finally coming true. The last three passages had been mostly sailing, mostly beam reach. So this is that champagne sailing we keep hearing about?

Between Carriacou and Grenada we glided past Kick 'Em Jenny, an underwater volcano being closely monitored for activity. One day she may become an island, but not that day. We did see some bizarre bubbles but easily convinced ourselves they were the result of wave action not geothermal activity.

We sailed down the West coast of Grenada smoothly, all the while monitoring the storm clouds along the highest ridges of the island, peeking over the mountaintop to our left. There was another storm off to our right side, but in between the two of them the skies were blue and our little world was perfect.

Our destination was the anchorage at Prickly Bay Harbor, on the South side of the island of Grenada. There's a small island closeby and a shallow shelf between them. As we turned left around the bottom corner of Grenada and into the shallow shelf, it became clear that the storm that had been on the ridgeline would eventually make its way to us. We weren't sure what the one behind us was doing. We scurried quickly across the shallow shelf and into Prickly Bay Harbor.

Our first med moor experience was in Guadaloupe

We picked that spot weeks ago because it is close to the veterinarian university that processes Trinidad pet checkouts; there are restaurants and grocery stores nearby and everything that we would need while we worked our way through bureaucratic approval. So, imagine our disappointment when we could not find a place to drop the hook on our first or second lap through. The boats already there were anchored quite closely to one another, and we have indelibly learned our lesson about short rode (see the Chesapeake City story). When we agreed that couldn't find a safe spot we left for the next bay over, True Blue. The storm on the ridgeline was advancing and the storm that followed us in waited in the shallow channel behind us, not a safe place to be in high winds and chop; we needed to find a spot to land and fast.

On our first pass through True Blue we noticed the few boats there were really rolling around from the wrap-around swell that comes in off the open ocean. Some of the mast swaying looked quite unpleasant. We took a lap trying to find a quiet place to land, and were eyeballing the brand new large mooring balls when the storm hit.

Conch shell pile in Carriacou

A recent purchase for us is a pair of headsets that allow us to speak quietly to one another instead of the usual shouting to be heard over the engine noise. We also traditionally use a lot of hand signals so that Lance knows where to direct the boat while I try to land her safely at anchor, on mooring balls, and in a slip. It's good we already had them on our heads when the storm hit because Lance could not see my hand signals on the bow of the boat and I could not see the mooring ball in the suddenly frothy water. We took a second pass at it and I had no better luck at catching it the second time in the high wind.

The rain came on with such ferocity it felt like BBs hitting my face. I knew I would not be able to see the mooring ball pennant to hook it a third time around either and made the snap decision to drop the hook right in the middle of the empty mooring field. As I was dropping it Lance was suggesting the same thing. It's bizarre how we are so often in sync.

The anchor hit the sand hard and I paused the chain payout for a moment to be sure I didn't pile the chain on top of it (another lesson learned in the heat of the moment), and then let it run free while the wind hurled Minerva backwards and sideways. Lance was watching behind us for any potential obstacles and I was counting out the chain to him over the headset as it went out. When we agreed we had enough chain out I stopped paying it out and Minerva's bow snapped right around. The mighty Mantus rocks again! We had hooked well.

After setting the drag alarm, we took turns wringing out our clothes and keeping watch until the high winds passed by, made a nice dinner and relaxed into the rolly swell and rain on the deck for the night. First thing the next morning we made our way into a swanky nearby marina where we tied up and enjoyed some air conditioning for the week.

Chloe waiting patiently for the Grenada vet

Of course getting the dog approved for Trinidad meant we had to rent a car to go right back over the hill to the area of Prickly Bay. Come to find out there are pretty good restaurants over there too, so we made several trips back to the neighborhood, but always gratefully returned to our air conditioned boat in the peaceful waters of the marina.

Trinidad is next. That's where we will protect Minerva from hurricane season, and her crew will relax and explore a whole new country for a few months.

Every new beginning

As I watched Loretta pull away with her new family my eyes threatened to leak. She's been our home and refuge for 4 years. What started out as simply a method to help us obtain our Forever Boat became a new way of living - land cruising - a delightful surprise we hadn't originally planned but ended up embracing.

In our four years together, Loretta has delivered us to some amazing places. Originally there were only 4 things on our "to do" list while we hunted down the boat of our dreams. The Florida Keys, those parks in the middle of the country (we didn't even know their names yet), Niagara Falls, and the Smithsonian.

What actually happened is... every new friend we met along the way added to our list. And soon the 4 things on our list became pages and pages of things to see and we were having such fun two years flashed by before we got around to seriously boat shopping again.

Here are a few of my favorite memories of our full-timing adventure.

The manatees of the Florida Keys are very friendly and surprised me by swimming right up to my paddleboard and wiggling their whiskers like vaudeville villains

The bleached trees on the beaches of Forks, WA are huge, haunting and plentiful

The pebbles of Lake McDonald at the lower levels of Glacier National Park are every color of the rainbow

We spent our first night as full-timers at a Harvest Host winery in Paso Robles, CA, in a field full of fascinating bunnies which were quite active at sunset. We had a bet going on which of our furry family members would bolt to chase bunnies first, in the end the sun went down first and everyone relaxed when the bunnies were out of sight.

At Foster's Big Horn restaurant in Rio Vista CA your meal is supervised by representatives from all around the world. I ordered a salad.

Sunset in Willcox AZ, coyotes sing at the property perimeter and roadrunners flit through the campground

Saguaro cactus in Scottsdale AZ contribute to the surreal vistas of the SouthWestern desert

Chloe at the Grand Canyon's South Rim. She has no fear of heights and nearly scared us to death by dancing along the wall anytime she thought she could get away with it.

Camping on the Natchez Trace Parkway offers little internet or cell coverage, so on workdays I holed up in the Meriwether Lewis room of the local library, surrounded by the history of the Lewis & Clark expedition

Of all the places we stayed, Elks Lodges made for some of the best memories. We were welcomed like family at most any lodge across the country and Forks WA was one of our favorites.

Dragon Lights in Albuquerque

Christmastime with Elks in Tavernier

The world famous Betty of Abbeville, LA, the hostess with the mostest. Every afternoon RV guests migrate to her patio, and instant friends are made over homemade tasty shared treats, beverages and stories from the road.

The rides of Moab Utah left us begging for more. Until about noon when we went begging for cold beverages.

We found the best service could be had at truck stops where technicians wrench from the pit underneath. Driving over the pit is not for the faint of heart.

Staging in Murphy NC for a day's ride at the Tail of the Dragon

Working from the RV on a city street allows for some great people-watching. This mother was waiting for her daughter to walk around the corner from school, and apparently the little brother was done waiting. This led to the most epic temper tantrum I have ever seen.

Roswell NM is all about the aliens

Niagara Falls was amazing. We did get soaked, in spite of the ponchos. What we didn't expect was the power required for the tour boats to keep us in place at the foot of the waterfall against those currents.

We found a lobster restaurant we could bicycle to from our RV park in Maine, and got to pick our own lunch, which was prepared right there. Doesn't get any fresher than that!

Montana big skies, approaching Yellowstone National Park

Cutting up with Leiloni (my sister's childhood friend from our hometown of Lincoln CA). Leiloni loves to research history and introduced us to some of the local lore in Old Colorado City where the historians dress in costume of locals from days gone by and tell their own stories in first person.

Introduced my favorite little princess to her first smores around the campfire in Littleton CO, which turned her and her Mom into sticky smores monsters. So what does a marshmallow-covered princess monster sing? Let It Go, monster-style. Of course.

Mile Zero in Key West. It didn't take Chloe long to figure out those open-door bars were pumping out air conditioned air and we had to allow extra time as she tried to become a barfly at every door we passed.

Loretta at a Harvest Host winery in central California. Since it was after hours we had the corn maze all to ourselves. Chloe got the most scared of the three of us and raced around to beat us to the exit.

Loretta's new family is a retired couple who look forward to traveling around the country to visit their grandchildren. I think they will be good stewards and we hope they have many excellent adventures together.

We are now down to one motorcycle, one large sailboat and a whole heap of stuff that needs sorting onto the boat. Our floating adventure has never been closer. In the immortal words of Semisonic's song Closing Time...

every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end

RVers say "see ya down the road" and they mean it. We do plan meticulously to end up together in places around the nation. I wonder if sailors have a similar saying. Maybe... see ya on the water?

The Evil Genie Mascot of 2020

This photo was taken at anchor in the South River just outside Oriental NC, just hours before Tropical Storm Isaias attacked us. It was the reddest, most beautiful sunset I've ever seen followed by one of the fiercest displays of nature I've ever encountered. If 2020 could be summed up in one picture, this is it.

2020 really, truly, sucked. But the 2020 shitshow has been tempered here and there by little dollops of joy. Much like WW Jacobs' story about the Monkey Paw, or the fables of the genie who grants (sort of what you asked for but not quite) wishes, 2020 has been the year that gave little and took back too much. If 2020 had a mascot it would be an evil genie.

If you haven't read the fable of the Monkey's Paw, definitely do that.

Preferably in front of the fireplace on a stormy night. Here's a link.

After years of searching we found our dream boat. The escrow process of actually buying it completely stripped the joy from the process.

We made the upgrades as intended and they were fabulous, and add real value to the boat as well as comfort and safety margins for us. We found a whole bunch of repair work we weren't expecting. The traveling kitty took a real hit. Oh well, due to lockdowns we weren't going anywhere anyways.

Covid is scary. We spent most of the year doing boat repairs in a little village that's relatively safe from Covid because we see the same 12 people all week, and because the townspeople generally take the pandemic seriously. We have made lifelong friends and they have become like family. Someday we can actually safely hug.

We skipped our "December in the Keys" RV trip to come directly to California to get some medical attention on Lance's foot. Being home early meant I could support family battling serious illness and ultimately a death. Had we not high-tailed it early we would been in less of a helpful position. My heart goes out to anyone trying to navigate our medical system right now.

Peaceful sunset on the Sacramento River, the windmills of Rio Vista are calm for the moment

I've been struggling to find meaning in 2020; the lesson to be absorbed.

Here's what I've got so far:

Seize the Day. It was already my life motto, this year simply reminded me. None of us know how much time we have left.

Be sure the people I love know it. This means they deserve more than half-hearted responses and occasional glances over the top of a cell phone, the lesson of 2020 is: Be Present.

Stop the millions of joy-robbers on their way in: social media, negative news feeds, screen time in general, the loud guy spouting politics at the campground. This thing about Being Present is that Present needs to be a place where I actually want to Be.

As for the weight on my shoulders? I need to do what I can and lay the rest down. Seriously, if I can't fix it I shouldn't be carrying it around so I need to stop allowing it free rent in my head and on my back.

Lance's foot is healing well and after that we will be sorting our things and heading back to Minerva. The lessons of 2020 were hard earned and will travel with us.

Already I've modified Chloe's walking route to avoid the crazy politics-shouting fisherman at the other end of the RV park.

Living in Schrodinger's box

 

I see them at the marina. At the bar. At the local restaurants.

All around the country, they're always there. 

Those boaters who never leave the dock.

I always wondered to myself...

in a rather judgey way...

What's the point of having a boat if you never leave the dock with it?

Hiding out from another rainy day with the Tour de France

Now I get it.

If the boat doesn't move, you don't know what's wrong with it.

Nothing is broken.

For the moment.

Until you put her in gear.

Take her out of the slip.

Try to do actual boat stuff.

That's when you discover what is broken.

She's not really dead until you crack the seal and see for yourself.

Until then she's both alive and dead at the same time.

The marina shoreline on a warm foggy morning

So for now, Minerva is running perfectly.

We're afraid to leave the dock.

Another squally week makes for spectacular sunrises