The terrible, horrible, no good, very bad ICW trip

After all of our hard work and successful boat projects, Capt. Mike and I were feeling pretty proud of ourselves, and happy to have untied the lines a few days ahead of our 1 Nov goal. Our trip from Brunswick to Stuart, FL started out great with a peaceful anchorage at Cumberland Island and a celebratory glass of tawny port, thanks to our friends Ann and Frank 🥂

We arrived in St Augustine in time on a Friday afternoon to pick up our sails from the Irish Sail Lady’s loft before she closed for the weekend. A sailing couple we’d never met before offered to pick us up with the sails and drive us back to the marina – how nice is that? But then things went downhill… Capt. Mike got sick in St Augustine and spent a few days laid up on the boat. We had to cancel our plans to meet friends over the weekend and it was days before he felt well enough to put the sails back up. We extended our stay on a ball in St Augustine Municipal Marina until he felt better and finally continued south – then things really got dicey!

Timing the bascule bridges on the ICW

Anchored in Rockhouse Creek, I guess we got a bit too complacent about our beast of an anchor. We had motored down the ICW from sunrise to sunset, dropped anchor, and I quickly wrangled up a pasta dinner. Just as we started to relax and eat, the anchor alarm blared. Sometimes it’s a false alarm, but not this time – the track of our boat on the little display map was showing a long straight line outside the circle and off to the edge of the screen. Yikes! We were dragging! We rushed back out to the cockpit, started the motor and had to figure out how to re-anchor in the dark without running around on all the shoals and sandbars around us. The anchor had somehow fouled the shaft in its own anchor chain, all wrapped around itself as tidal current fought against wind direction, creating a real mess to put to rights in the dark.

After an uneasy night of sleeping with one ear open for the alarm to go off again, we continued south, finally in a wide enough section of the ICW that we could put out some sail. Winds were about 25 kts from the north and it was a bit rough, even inside the ICW. At one point I heard Capt. Mike say “Huh.” and when I gave him a questioning look, he said “look near the top of the mainsail and tell me what you see.” I said, “I see daylight coming through. That’s not good.” Remember I mentioned picking up our newly repaired sails in St Augustine? Well just a couple of days later and on our first time using them, we’d ripped our main.

We also had a tough time with the bridges on the Daytona Beach section of the ICW. Fixed bridges are supposed to be 65 feet high to accommodate most masts. But with king tides and winds from the north, water was stacking up in this long section with little access to inlets to the sea. We saw bridge boards reading as low as 61 to 62 feet. We aren’t completely comfortable yet with exactly how high our mast is, especially once you factor in the wind instruments and VHF radio antenna. Other sailboats hailed us on the radio and told us they planned to anchor north of the Seabreeze bridges until high tide. We anchored too, to look at the tide tables and to estimate our mast height. With low tide not until 11:30 at night, we decided to go for it anyway, putting out sails to heel us over as much as possible to get a little extra room. We made it, but it made for a nerve wracking day, and we later learned that one of the two anchored boats at Seabreeze damaged their forestay on one of the bridges and had to haul out for repairs.

My notes on a long day of low bridges

I “celebrated” my birthday on this section of the ICW when we anchored near the Ft Pierce inlet. The Captain surprised me with a margarita after we anchored and I sipped it while reading a book as Capt. Mike got ready to test the new watermaker for the first time. He started the generator, started the water maker, and cheered “It’s working! It’s working!” Then as he came up to the cockpit to celebrate, he changed his tune to “Wait. What’s that horrible burning smell? Shut it all down!” After some investigation, he found a seriously melted part on our nearly new generator. He spent the rest of my birthday evening in the cockpit lazarette grumbling about how he was just going to stay there and cry 😭

The melted generator part

We limped the rest of the way to Stuart, FL the next day, attempting to troubleshoot our autopilot. It worked pretty well to turn it on, set a course heading, and to let the autopilot take the helm. But every time we tried to go back to standby and take control away from the autopilot, it wouldn’t give up control easily. Whoever was at the helm would have no control of the wheel for some time between two seconds and fifteen seconds until the clutch would finally release and give us control. That might not sound like a lot of time but if there’s a fast boat coming toward you, or if you are heading outside the dredged channel toward a shoal, it feels like forever. Add that to the list of things we’ll have to repair before leaving Florida for The Bahamas.

Making a box for the autopilot arm
Bringing the box to UPS

So in about a week we went from thinking we were done with all our boat projects and just needed to wait for a weather window to cross to the Bahamas, to having a long list of expensive repairs that all felt like must-dos before leaving the States. Sigh. I know. “That’s boat life.” But somehow it felt pretty depressing. At least we are more in a safe place with lots of marine services and the ability to order parts. I’m sure it’ll all look better soon.

Safe on a mooring ball at Sunset Bay Marina

Parade Day at Carnival

When we first started thinking about going to Carnival in Trinidad, I seriously considered joining one of the big masquerade bands. Even contemplated squeezing my middle-aged white bum into one of those sequinced and feathery bikini costumes. But then I did a little bit of research and learned that it costs around $1,000 usd to join a band. More if you want feathers. Yikes! So instead, we joined a few friends and bought tickets at a restaurant on “The Avenue” where we could watch the parades from comfort and it was perfect!

As opposed to the “Dutty Mas” of J’ouvert, Tuesday’s parades are “Pretty Mas or Bikini Mas” Folks choose a band to join and choose the simple “Backline” costume or more elaborate “Frontline” costume. It’s called “Playing Mas” (short for masquerade) In addition to the standard costume, many women buy colorful sneakers or boots, and wear elaborate sparkly makeup. Add a backpack of feathers and maybe a headpiece and it makes for a colorful joyous spectacle.

If you’re gonna play mas in Trinidad, you’d better have some stamina! Bands “chip” and “wine” their way through downtown Port of Spain all day long, dancing and bouncing to soca. The parades are fueled by local rum and local delicacies such as doubles and shark and bakes. I’m not sure how they manage to keep up the energy in the hot tropical sun!

Some bands avoid bikini mas, and instead wear elaborate costumes that tell a story or depict some of the history of Carnival. The larger, grander costumes are feats of engineering and take the entire year to design and create. It’s really pretty amazing to be there in person to see them “on da road”.

By the afternoon, some partyers get tired of their heavy costumes and leave them behind. Our gain! We had a lot of fun trying on the castoffs!

There’s a competition for the Road March – the most popular and most frequently played soca song in the parades. Our favorite “Come Home to Me” came in third place. We were robbed!

Long trail section #1: Williamstown Massachusetts to VT Route 11/30

Last Sunday, our very good friend George Thompson drove us over three hours from his home in Underhill, VT to a Howard Johnson in Williamstown. I gotta tell you, it’s a very strange feeling to see that car drive away and be left in a strange town, wearing one set of inappropriatly casual clothes, with a small pile of “stuff” and to be left on our own!

Day 1- Mon 8/30 Williamstown to Seth Warner Shelter

2.8 miles (+6 extra miles) After breakfast at the Moonlight Diner, we walk two miles through Williamstown and North Adams to get to the Appalachian Trail (the At and the LT are the same trail for about 110 miles) Then we hike an uphill 6 miles to finally arrive at the Vermont line, and the official start of the Long Trail! I’ve got the First Day Blues (sore toe, bad knee, heavy pack, mud, slow going). It’s very humid today – clothes soaked through and sweat dropping. Rain started AFTER we arrived at shelter, Yay! Usually we’re not so lucky. Stayed in the shelter with a couple from St Pete doing AT, with trail names Shortcut and Adams.

Day 2  -Tuesday 8/31: Melville Shelter

13.3 miles, 19,600 steps. Better mentally than yesterday, but harder! Didn’t get started until 8:40 and hiked almost until 6pm. Nice view of Bennington, then steep, rocky downhill to Rt 9. Steep climb back up to the shelter. Last 3 miles were TOUGH. Shared a shelter with bunk beds with Backwoods

Day 3: Wednesday 9/1 -Kid Gore Shelter, 12.8 miles, 32838 steps

My Bad Big Toe Joe

I’ve named my broken/healing big left toe Joe. Joe the Toe. (My right big toe is quieter and much less needy. He doesn’t have a name)

Joe didn’t hurt quite as much today as he did the previous two days, and I’m not sure why…
– Maybe because today’s hike was a bit easier and my pack a little bit lighter?
– Maybe the Mobic medicine is finally kicking in?
– Maybe backpacking is actually good physical therapy – who knew?
– Maybe taking all these steps every day is deadening the nerves that carry pain messages from my toe to my brain?
Who cares, I’ll take it!

Joe is slowing me down though. I’ve noticed that with a bum toe, I don’t push off with my back foot and stretch out my stride as I hike. Instead, I just sort of prance along; up and down, up and down, and it’s not nearly as efficient. Also, I’m super careful where I place my foot with every step, especially on steep downs and rocky terrain. By no means do I want to risk landing Joe-first! So between the two effects, I’m literally the slowest north-bound Long Trail hiker this year. In three days, I haven’t passed a single hiker, and I’m always the last person to arrive at the shelter. Shame on you, Joe!

(Rained from 2pm to morning with the remnants of hurricane Ida. My hiking clothes blew off the line into the mud overnight, so I started the day soaking wet.

Day 4 Thursday 9/2 – Stratton Pond Shelter 15 miles

I have no problem stomping right through any clear, clean, running water. Streams, Creeks, Rivers… I’m in! But, color it black and call it mud? Suddenly I’m a delicate sugar plum fairy, dancing from root to rock, desperate to avoid falling in and hearing that dreaded SCHALURP

Day 5: Friday 9/3 Pinnacle Lodge near Manchester Center 11 miles

I suspect that I only like backpacking for the town stops. I don’t like being cold, dirty, and wet. But…I love the way a hot shower feels after five days of being cold, dirty, and wet!
One night in a hotel to clean ourselves up and get a good night’s sleep, now it’s back out to the trail!

A nice month for a walk in the woods …

Warning – for the next three weeks, this sailing blog will be pre-empted by the trail journal of my end-to-end hike of the Long Trail in Vermont.

Instead of The Grenadines, we’ll be walking 273 miles from Williamstown, MA to the border of Canada. Instead of the gin-blue waters of the Caribbean, you’ll see the emerald greens and deep earthy browns of the Green Mountains. Instead of Jenn and Capt. Mike, we will henceforth be known as Dingle and ToeJam.

Read on if you dare… You have been warned!

Grenada or bust! 🇬🇩 (aka more swabs up the nose)

Way back in March 2020, we said to ourselves, “Let’s just sit tight through this Covid-19 thing, and we’ll be able to cruise again next year.” Cue 2021, and we’re STILL sitting tight and waiting for the world to open up again and to let us travel freely again. I’ve seen a lot of friends recently posting warm weather travel pictures on Instagram – and you’re mostly visiting US states territories such as the USVI, Puerto Rico, Hawaii, or the Florida Keys. So you get it! While travel is possible again these days, testing costs and quarantine requirements still make travel between countries tricky and expensive. Or maybe I’m just trying to convince myself that we made the right decision to spend five whole months in the Grenadines 😜

June 1st is the official start of hurricane season in the northern hemisphere so after our extended farewell party circuit of the Grenadines, we dug out our boat paperwork, To-Do lists, and links to government websites and started planning our trip back to Grenada. On May 1st, Grenada issued a new policy stating that fully vaccinated visitors could bypass most of quarantine. Hooray! Instead of the two-week quarantine we performed last year, vaccinated visitors just need to get a PCR test within 72 hours of arrival in Grenada, submit a bunch of health forms and documents, get tested again on arrival in Grenada, and quarantine on the boat until we get negative results from the arrival test – from 24-48 hours. This makes a lot of sense, and hopefully will allow the Caribbean islands to fully reopen to tourism in the fall. We used the two weeks after our second shot to say goodbye to all of our favorite places, as described in my last post, and then I went to work planning for a smooth transition between countries.

The swab up the nose doesn’t get any easier

Sunrise on Monday May 10 found the crew of Sanitas at the dinghy dock in Bequia, heading to the hospital for our “leaving SVG” Covid test. These tests must be processed manually in a lab on the main island. Test appointments are super early so that the nasal swabs can be put on a ferry and sent north to St Vincent. It sounds so logical but… island time! Capt. Mike and I sat on the ground in front of the tiny hospital from 6am until about 7:15 when we handed over 104ec per person (around $40) and finally were taken into an air conditioned shipping container and got the old swab up the nose. Our test didn’t make it on the first ferry, but they must have made it on the next one – we were thrilled to get our test results via email first thing Tuesday morning. By that time, we’d sailed back down to Union Island, the southernmost point available to clear out of SVG.

Negative test results in hand, I pestered the ports authority in Carriacou until they replied with an email granting us permission to sail to Tyrell Bay exactly five months to the day after we cleared in. How crazy is that? We cleared out on exactly the day our cruising permit expired and made the short nine-mile sail south. The travel gods continued to smile on us, as we passed our health assessment quickly, and before we even made it back to the boat, we got called back for our “arrival in Grenada” Covid test. Before noon on Wednesday, we settled in cheerfully on Sanitas, making the best of our 48-hour wait for results and freedom.

What do we do to occupy ourselves while confined to a teeny boat during quarantine? Well, I’m obviously catching up on blog posts 😀 We cooked up some comfort food treats, like homemade gluten free pizza, and a delicious steak dinner. We reviewed our To-Do list for prepping Sanitas for hurricane season, and started to check off a few items that could be performed in advance. We did more planning; booking our haul-out date and an apartment, and even booking flights back to the US. We binge watched a young adult fairy romance series on Netflix (don’t ask how the algorithm decided we’d enjoy that one) and rewatched both seasons of Derry Girls. We even (and this is a little pathetic in retrospect) packed go bags. So if we heard the Port Authority call us over the VHF radio, we could simply pull on our nicer “customs and immigration clothes”, grab backpacks stuffed with boat paperwork, wallets, and swim suits, and after clearing in we’d be all set to walk over to Paradise Beach to celebrate our freedom. But… Thursday crawled by. And Friday morning turned into Friday afternoon. And other boats in the quarantine anchorage started calling the ports authority asking when we could expect results. About 4:00 I got an e-mail addressed to “Dear Captains” stating that they hadn’t received our test results, so we’d have to stay in quarantine through the weekend. Say what? Our 48-hour quarantine just turned into five days. I didn’t bring enough Netflix or sweet and salty snacks for that much time!

Go bags at the ready!

Capt. Mike and I took turns being grouchy and then optimistic all weekend. We have a rule in our marriage that only one of us is allowed to be in a funk at a time. We polished stainless, wiped down closets with mildew killer, ate the rest of our cheese and crackers and chips and cookies, and somehow made it until Monday. Finally, at 10:30 we got the call on the radio to come in for our health clearance certificate. As I write this, it is 11:30 Monday morning, exactly 5 days or 120 hours after our supposedly 48-hour quarantine started. We brought our health certificate over to customs and immigration across town to FINALLY check in. The customs officer told us they are open from 1pm to 3pm. The officer must have seen my face, ’cause he said “ok, I know this is a stressful time. I can process you now” I gotta say, I’ve had my fill of Island Time for a while 🤣 We’re official now, and planning to sail to Grenada tomorrow. Phew!

The captain clearing us in… Finally!