Sailing to the Bahamas

Sailing from Florida to The Bahamas – December 2015

I like having my small adventures.  Since I have no regular work obligations I have the option to ‘up and go’ for weeks at a time.  Not that I do that on a frequent basis; for one thing, although I am financially comfortable, I am in no way able to support a life of nothing but travel and leisure.  More than that, I like being home.  Part of the charm of leaving to go on adventures is the pleasure of coming back to an established routine that is both relaxed and include-s useful work.

When my old friend Tor Pinney indicated he was looking for two people to help him sail Silver Heels, his Pearson 442 forty-two foot ketch to The Bahamas on the first leg of what would probably be an extended voyage to various southern islands for at least six months, and probably many more, I applied for the job.  I had sailed with Tor once before, helping him bring Silver Heels, up from Panama to Green Cove Springs, Florida.  This time we would be going from the sailboat yard in Green Cove Springs, Florida, where Tor had been repairing and upgrading Silver Heels to Spanish Wells in The Bahamas.  Once the relatively difficult 400 mile open ocean passage was completed Tor would continue south single handed, day sailing and making relatively easy passages among the thousands of islands that stretch from The Bahamas to the South American continent.  The temporary crew would make arrangements to fly back home from one of the many little local airports back home.

He chose an experienced sailor from Boston, Greg Allen, and myself to help him crew Silver Heels on the open ocean passage to The Bahamas.  The trip would allow me to visit family and friends on the way over from Texas to Jacksonville and back.  Pressing business at home required me to stay in The Woodlands through the evening of Thursday, 3 December.  So it was that I left bright an early on Friday the 4^th to start my adventure.  My first leg was stopped at my friend Pam and Craig’s new home on Perdido Bay right on the Florida/Alabama line.  It was a long pull there, eight and a half hours, but my trusty Ford Focus, Silver, was up to the ride.  I arrived just before sunset which was a very good thing because they have a fantastic view of sunsets over the bay.  Their home is not just on the bay, it is located at the junction of a bayou so they have splendid views in both directions.  My cousin Edie who helped Pam and Craig find this home joined us for wine and sunset appreciation followed by some delicious Pam-prepared pizza.  The setting was splendid and companionship wonderful.

 

 

The following morning Pam, Craig, and I went to Joe Patti’s seafood for breakfast.   Joe Patti’s is a Pensacola institution for over 80 years.  It is a unique seafood place with fresh seafood and gourmet items; they will even prepare your fish for you.  However, this morning all we had was beignets and coffee.  I was on the road to Jacksonville by 8.  The familiar ride ended at my sister Dianne’s home on the west side of Jacksonville.

That evening I took my sisters, Carol, Dianne, and Dianne’s husband Lamar out to dinner at one of my late parents’ favorite restaurants.  We had a typical north Florida meal of fried seafood which was quite good.  I am grateful that I get along so well with my sisters – we had a lovely outing.

Tor asked me to be at the boat at 0800 on Sunday.  I was so eager to get there that Lamar dropped me off half an hour early, catching Tor still getting ready for the day.  I stowed my sea bag in minutes.  Greg Allen was the third crew member; a very experienced sailor from Boston.  This gave Captain Tor a couple of ‘burly sailors’ to help him for the 400 mile transit down to the Bahamas.

Sunday – The first leg up the St. Johns

The St. John’s River is over 300 miles long but there is only a drop of about 30 feet in all that length.  This means there is little current and the river is strongly influenced by tidal flow even 50 miles from the mouth of the river.  On that Sunday, we had to wait for the tide to turn, around 1100, before we headed north.  We spent the time productively, preparing for the trip.

It was a nice day to be on the river: sunny, cool, with a slight breeze.  We motored steadily north.  Our goal that day was The Landings, a shopping/entertainment center about halfway to the river’s mouth.  They have a long dock which allows free mooring.  More importantly, it is past the Acosta railroad bridge.  This low bridge would be under repair and would not be able to be opened for five days starting on Monday, 7 December, blocking the way north for boats of any size.  This gave Tor a hard ‘not later than’ date to depart, whether he was not really fully ready to depart or not.

Tor knows something about being ready for sea.  He is immensely experienced in these matters – in fact he actually wrote a book on the subject.  A series of unfortunate events had hindered his normally comprehensive preparations.  Silver Heels was struck by lightning in a summer thunderstorm.  Lightning has famously weird effects on electronics.  Some things that should have been fried were fine.  Other random bits no longer worked.  Worse, some pieces of gear that seemed alright later went on the fritz.  One of the most troubling was the self-steering.  Tor discovered with only a month or so to go that it was not working.  He immediately sent it back for repairs exhorting the manufacturer to get it back to him in working order before December.  That was only one of a host of things that hindered and harassed poor Tor in the weeks leading up to the scheduled departure.  Even working 12-14 hours a day, seven days a week, Tor did not have everything done to his satisfaction.  All the critical things were done and done correctly; however, all sorts of things can suddenly become critical when you are at sea.  Tor gave serious thought to spending Monday night at a little marina just inside the mouth of the St. John’s to allow him another day to rest and prepare, but the weather window was looking promising so he decided to stay with his original plan to exit the river and head out to sea as originally planned.

That afternoon we continued working, cleaning, and settling in at our berth in The Landings.  That night I took Tor and Greg out to dinner.  This was in part because of a known failing on my part – I am a poor cook at the best of times and even worse underway.  I believe it is important that each member of the crew does his fair share of the work and cooking underway is definitely work.  I figured I was ‘paying it forward’ a bit for my failings in the galley.  We retired early, knowing that tomorrow would be a big day.

      

 

Monday – Out to Sea

We started the next day by completing a few final preparations such as deflating the dingy and stowing it securely on deck.  The tide would begin to ebb at The Landings around 1000, and we headed under the Main Street Bridge shortly after that.  Tor rechecked the weather.  The small craft advisory had been lifted.  We could expect favorable winds at 20 knots, gradually diminishing to 15 over the next 48 hours.  We motored steadily north, then followed the river east toward the Atlantic.  The St. John’s narrowed and deepened as we moved toward the mouth, staying clear of huge sea-going barges that were none too happy to share the channel with private craft.  Greg was kind enough to pass up a delicious sandwich for lunch.  Tor let me drive most of the way up the river, which delighted me.  An hour from the entrance Tor hoisted the main with a deep reef – it would be blowing out there.  He was also kind enough to offer me a sea sickness pill.   We would need them.

I was glad to get a look at Mayport Naval station with several haze gray warships.  Although I was busy as we navigated out between the jetties, I was able to observe a sleek warship coming out.  I am embarrassed to admit that I did not recognize the low silhouette or an Arleigh Burke destroyer.  It was not until I got a beam view that I recognized DDG 99, USS Farragut.   Oh, well, it has been a long time since I was on active duty.

The wind was a steady 20 knots- nothing for a stout old girl like Silver Heels, especially with just a staysail and deep reefed main.  However, there was still a good swell running from the previous two days.  I have estimated that when seated in the cockpit my eyes are between six and seven feet above the waterline, and I was looking up at a lot of those waves.  Again, no real problem for a craft like Silver Heels.  But these were nasty waves.  The combination of a cross-current and relatively shallow water led to a vicious lumpy sea.  There was no real rhythm to the seas, they came from different angles with varying periods and they tended to be steep.  The motion was violent and irregular.  Later on, my watch I observed that even seated securely in the cockpit pressed up against a sturdy object I had to hold on to something or I would be thrown around.  Moving around below was almost comical.  We were shaken like dice in a Yahtzee cup. The others had problems, too, but I was very definitely the worst.  My progress was marked by a series of crashes followed by curses.  I was able to go below and get an hour’s sleep as we tumbled along toward the Bahamas on a course of 140.

We were lucky to be in Silver Heels, a fine boat.  Built in the early 1980’s by Pearson Yachts, she is a well-thought-out design.  At 42 feet, she is big enough to manage rough weather but small enough for an experienced yachtsman like Tor to sail alone.  She is no lightweight and has a long fin keel which keeps her tracking well.  The ketch rig gives Tor great flexibility in his choice of sails and the sturdy 54 horsepower diesel can push her along both comfortably and economically.  There are two settee berths for crew with big double bed in the owner’s cabin, located next to the cockpit.  There is an old tradition for sailors to anthropomorphize their boats.  Silver Heels is a very reliable lady; comfortable and absolutely trustworthy as long as you treat her right.  Tor has been updating and upgrading her since he bought her nine years ago and in many ways, she is actually better and stronger now than when she was new.  Although it was rough that first day we did not worry about our vessel.  There is an old saying: ships don’t break – men break.

We were on three hour watches.  I took the 6-9 PM watch.  Tor was already down sleeping by then as he had the next watch. The evening was gray and the wind was cutting.   Greg, blessings upon him, handed me up a bowl of hot Raman noodles with some ham mixed in.  I asked him to join me but he said he was not feeling well enough to eat and so retired.  That would be only one of two hot meals we had over the next four days.  We mostly ate peanuts, fruit, and sandwiches.  As the evening turned to night the wind became cutting.  I had to go below and put on a fourth layer.  My shirt was in my sea bag which was stowed in the foc’s’le.  Do you remember those old pinball games where the big silver ball would bounce wildly from one side to the other?  Me going forward to get my long-sleeved shirt was kind of like that.  Unfortunately, on the way back a particularly vicious wave caused me to bump against a deeply sleeping Tor, waking him up.  I still feel bad about that.

I was particularly mad at myself for waking up Tor because he was so tired.  Make no mistake – Tor is genuinely tough, both mentally and physically.  But he had been working very hard the past few weeks and did not sleep well the night before we left.  The reason is very simple.  Tor does not just own a sailboat he lives on her – and has for over eight years.  That means virtually everything he owns is kept in a very small space.  Think about it: that includes all his cookware, clothing, tools, books, pictures, spare parts, bedding, stores, food, beverages – everything.  To quote the song, he has ‘everything he needs and nothing that he don’t’.  This means everything must go in a specific place or things won’t fit.  Further, you need to clean up and put away everything as soon as you are finished with it.  Tor is keenly aware of everything that goes on aboard Silver Heels.  Two large men coming aboard, combined with weeks of hard work preparing for an extended cruise along with the normal anxiety before setting him robbed him of the sleep he needed before heading out to sea.  It took him two good nights of rest after we got underway before he felt like he was back up to 85%.

Hanging on in the cockpit of a pitching and rolling sailboat a night with a strong and cold wind trying to cut through your clothes is not exactly what most people think of as a Bahamian sailing vacation.  But times like that are all part of cruising.  You have to expect and prepare for nights like that if you are going to get to the good places.

Tuesday – Crossing the Gulf Stream

My next watch was the 0300-0600.  The seas, although still rough were now more regular and the wind had moderated somewhat.  Silver Heels had a counter current under her keel and with the steady wind off the beam we were making 7-8 knots.  My only regret on this watch was that this time of year it was still too early to enjoy watching the sun come up at sea.  I guess I could have stayed up and watched the dawn but decided I would rather nap.

A couple of hours later I joined the others in the cockpit to enjoy the rapidly improving weather.  I embarrassed myself by being sick, fortunately over the lee rail.  Even after 100,000 miles traveled at sea I still can get seasick.  This is more of an annoyance and embarrassment to me than a debilitating affliction, and it did not affect my watch standing.  We continued on out southeasterly course all that day as the sun broke through the clouds.  Making open-ocean crossings involve a fair amount of boredom.  Even Tor admits he no longer looks forward to them.  They are merely necessary in order to get down to the islands.

By mid afternoon it was actually rather pleasant.  That night I could feel distinctly warmer gusts of wind, as though it were blowing out of some sort of reverse refrigerator.  The wind was picking up the heat from the Gulf Stream.  Although we continued to move well though the water our speed over the bottom dropped as we crossed that great warm ocean current.

 

Wednesday – Motoring the last leg

As the day progressed the wind, as predicted began to drop and veer to the south.   We shook out the reef but our progress inexorably slowed.   Winds became ‘light and variable’; Tor called them light and irritable.  Eventually we begin motoring in order to hold our course.

One of the most impressive recent additions to Silver Heels is AIS.  This wonderful electronic system provides tracking data between ships; it automatically shares information between ships.  With AIS you can look on the screen of the navigation computer and see every ship within range with type of ship and speed.  No more guessing at dim navigational lights.  Better yet, big merchant ships know where you are and that you are a sailboat.  That morning I got a chance to really take advantage of it.  I could see a vessel ahead of us on the horizon.  Thanks to AIS I was able to discover it was a cargo ship.  Then I saw there were two contacts, but AIS let me know they were really one; an ocean-going tug and tow.  We called her on the radio and she made a minor course change that kept up miles apart.  Easy – but at night and in bad weather that sort of notification can make a real difference.  That afternoon Tor cooked some delicious chicken which I gobbled up while standing watch in the cockpit.

It was becoming clear that at our present rate we would be off Spanish Wells sometime after dark on Thursday.  That meant we would have to spend the night hours waiting for dawn to come in.  It is certainly possible to navigate in under darkness but it is definitely not prudent to do so.  Further, you have to wait until customs and immigration clear you and that is definitely better done in the morning.  Tor determined that a better option was to go to Marshy Harbour, on the island of Abaco.  It was half a day closer so that we could come in there in the morning.  There was a regional airport there so the two crew members could make arrangements to fly to Nassau.  Greg already had a flight booked out of there, and I should be able to find something that would get me back to Jacksonville.  That is the great freedom when you are your own master.  When circumstances change you can go where you want to go when you want to get there – weather permitting.   And with light tropic breezes our diesel gave us the freedom to go when we wanted.

Greg and I wanted Tor to be well rested for the approach the following day so we offered to add an hour to our watches so that Tor would not have to get up and stand his scheduled watch at 0300.  Instead, Tor had each of us stand an extra hour.  That way he would not have to get up until 0600.  The sunset that night was beautiful.

Thursday – a Very Odd day

Thursday, December 10 was one of the most unusual days I can remember.  It started for me with the 0200-0600 watch.  We were coming up on the western shore of the island of Abaco in The Bahamas.  The island is surrounded by reefs, and reefs at night frighten me.  When I took the watch, there were navigational lights off to starboard and even though we were on course and well offshore I was as nervous as a cat in a kennel.  It became clear we would be at the way point early even after I slowed us down to 4 knots.  There are worse things than being early – like being late.  Then the self-steering began to start oscillating up to 30 degrees back and forth, in part because we were going so slowly and had a bit of a current pushing us.  I remained a worry wart even after Tor got up around 5:30 and confirmed everything was okay.

The morning came up bright red; one of the most spectacular sunrises I have ever seen.  I was glad we would be going to a sheltered port as I remembered that old bit of sailor lore – ‘red sky in the morning, sailor take warning.’

As the light came in I realized that what I had taken for a stone breakwater was in face a brush-covered low island with the unpleasant name of Great Guano Cay.  The pass we needed was next to another island, Scotland Cay; the pass was a few hundred yards wide and led into the sound. An inter-island coaster was coming in and we followed her through the pass and across the sound toward Marsh Harbour, a wrinkle in a low-lying island off to the west.  I got to drive Silver Heels most of the way over and in, following Tor’s directions.  Coming in, Tor had to decide just where to moor.  He had no way to determine which of these marinas would take visiting yachts or how much they charged; some of these places charged exorbitant fees.  He called on the radio without response.  After a few minutes, he decided to pull up to a fueling dock a resort marina.  That got the attention of a couple of locals who helped us moor.  The fee for tying up there was not too bad so Tor decided we had arrived.

The resort was called The Conch Inn.  The place was just opening up as we arrived; fortunately, the staff were very kind and helpful.   The requisite calls were made to the authorities while Tor discussed the costs of staying there overnight, which turned out to be relatively reasonable.  Greg and I turned to and started cleaning up Silver Heels, buoyed by the information that since we were staying overnight at the pier we could access Wi-Fi.  In the event, that turned out to be more difficult than expected.  Immigration arrived first and we handed over our paperwork to the nice immigration lady.  Poor Tor had a number of fees and such to pay.  It costs a yachtsman $300 to enter The Bahamas – a fee which enables you to stay in the country for up to six months.  Not too bad a deal if you are staying for a while but it makes just popping over for a weekend relatively expensive.  Of course, to some of the people who own yachts, $300 is pocket change.  One annoying development happened when customs came on board.  Tor plays strictly by the rules; he always declares everything.  It so happened he had a rifle with 300 rounds of ammunition.  Well, the rules have changed and you can only have 250 rounds with you now.  Tor turned over the extra 50 rounds.  It was a small annoyance; even so, Tor feels that it is better to play by the rules than to risk getting caught later on and facing a severe penalty.

Within a couple of hours Greg and I had completed cleaning the boat.  I began to focus on getting home.  With the internet so spotty on the boat I took my little laptop up to the office and tried there.  Thus began a frustrating two hours of trying to discover what flights go out of Marshy Harbour.  I could see various options but making a connection with a reasonable layover in Nassau was difficult.  Finally, after much frustration I decided to take the Air Bahamas flight leaving the next morning at 0730 and connect with an American Flight that would get me to Jacksonville about 12 hours later.  I start ordering the ticket and just before I get to the crucial point – wham – my laptop runs out of juice!  Ack!  I dash back and get the power cord but despite another hour of trying I was unable to reconnect to the airline websites.  It was after 1500 and I was starting to get worried.  Greg had booked a flight and was gone to make his previously scheduled flight out on Saturday.  I, on the other hand, had nothing, not even a place to stay after Tor left tomorrow.

The ladies at the Conch Inn remained helpful.  When I could not get my computer to reach the link for Air Bahamas she used hers and quickly secured a ticket.  But…. when I tried to use my credit cards to pay for it they were rejected, despite answering security questions.  So the ladies tried calling the airport.  They would not pick up the phone.

“You better take a taxi there and buy a ticket,” they advised me.

“Can I just show up and go space available?” I asked, thinking of costly cab rides there and back.

“No, sah, that flight is almost always full.”

I did not hesitate.  “Can you please call me a cab?”

I had promised Tor to do the laundry at a local laundromat, but getting a ticket out was a priority.  I went out to the street to wait for a cab.    And almost got hit by a car driving on the wrong side of the road.  Oh, yeah, former British colony, of course they drive on the left side.

I stood there in a small parking lot by the side of the road in a foreign country waiting for a cab.  The Bahamas are not rich and I did not expect a gleaming well-marked vehicle.  I was not surprised, then when a Hyundai van built sometime in the late 20^th century pulled up.  There was a magnetic sign that identified it as a taxi.  The side door lacked an outside handle so I sat right up front with a large affable black woman who identified herself as Shane.  By this point I was stressed.  Shane was a perfect antidote reassuring me that ‘everything will come out alright’.  Why just this morning her cab had broken down and I was her first fare since it had been repaired.

The fare was $15; I gave her a twenty and scurried into the airport.  The terminal was a moderately sized concrete block building with a counter on one side.  Various airline placards were posted at intervals behind the counter, but only the Air Bahamas station had anyone there: two bored locals.  There was a short line, but the wait was long.  The lady on the left was engaged in a long interminable discussion with a customer.  The wait was punctuated by phone calls by one or the other attendant.  I was amazed to see a customer end one call and then take out another phone out of her purse and make another call.  The man in front of me was engaged in a long wrangling debate with the attendant which apparently involved complex negotiations.  It was getting close to 5 by now and I had an image of the two employees deciding it was quitting time and closing down with customers (including me) still in line.

Eventually I was called to the counter.  I explained I was looking for a flight off the island, preferably to the US. She leisurely checked her display and offered the last seat on a flight that left at 1000 tomorrow – to Palm Beach – for $550.  I then asked about a flight to Nassau.  She grudgingly admitted that she had one ticket left to for that flight for $86 leaving just after 0800.  My credit cards worked just fine here.  Whew.  As a last jibe, the attendant told me I must be at the airport by 0600.  Sure lady; I know when I am being messed with.

And Shane was waiting to take me back to the Conch Inn.  She assured me she could pick me up at the Inn at 0615 which would give me plenty of time to get to the airport in time.  Right – if she did not oversleep, and her car started.  But I had no other real option so I hopped out of her cab telling her I was looking forward to seeing her the next morning.  Now all I had to do was a few loads of laundry in a third world laundromat.  Tor took pity on me and told me that he did not want me hauling laundry half a mile.  I then hustled out and found that the resort would do laundry for boats staying there.  I paid Tor what the load would cost to have done, at least partially discharging my obligation to him.

Tor did not want to go out so I ate dinner in the Conch Inn’s restaurant alone.  I mean literally just me and the staff.  After sampling the curry, I knew why.  Although edible the food was both boring and expensive.  Upon returning to Silver Heels I found Tor had rigged the mosquito screens over the open hatches.  It would be a warm night and Tor was wise to keep the pesky little sleep-stealing blood-suckers out of the boat.  I sat outside for a bit chatting with Tor, then retired to read and try to sleep.

Sleep was elusive that night. The cabin was warm. Although Tor had the place more or less back in order I was uneasy.  I was more than uneasy, I was very anxious.  I knew that if I caught that flight out of Marshy Harbor I would be fine; there are lots of flights out of Nassau to the US, something would turn up.  But if I missed that flight out of the little airport in Abaco I was stuck.  That meant Shane had to show up in her balky taxi well before dawn tomorrow.  I am big on backup plans and alternatives and getting on that flight tomorrow morning was what is called a ‘single point of failure’.  It had to work as I had no other options.  I normally sleep well and do not allow troubles to bother my sleep, but that night I lay awake, sometimes reading, sometimes just staring up at the overhead.  I also did some serious praying.   I may have dozed off and on but despite the fact that I had been up since 0200 that morning, sleep eluded me.  I set two alarms and waited to see what the next day would bring.

Friday – Homeward bound

I awoke long before my alarm went off.  My bags were packed and clothes laid out so I was ready to leave in a few minutes.  Although it was only a few minutes after six, I decided to leave so I could be early for my 0615 pickup time.  Tor offered to make me a cup of coffee but I was too nervous about my taxi to wait even that long.  If she was there I could get coffee at the airport.  If she was not, I did not really know what I would do; perhaps start walking to the airport.

I left Tor with the assurance that he was well.  He was where he needed to be – in The Bahamas.  His boat was more or less back together, he had rested, and could go whenever and where ever he desired.  Tor Pinney has enough money for his needs, a fine cruising sailboat, and most importantly, the skill to take her anywhere he wants to go.  In my book that makes him just about the freest man in the world.

I walked off the pier, backpack and duffle bag shouldered, and headed for the parking lot to begin waiting.  As I entered the lot, to my inexpressible joy there Shane was – parked and waiting for me!  I tossed my stuff in the back and we headed for the airport with me smiling from ear to ear.  When we got there, I gave Shane a 100% tip.  She was worth every penny.

From the moment that I saw Shane waiting for me in the parking lot, everything went my way.  Check in at Marshy Harbour airport was smooth and friendly – exactly the opposite from the day before.  They had breakfast and hot coffee in the waiting area; and free Wi-Fi!   I was able to connect with the American Airlines website and scored the last ticket on the flights from Nassau to Charlotte, to Jacksonville.

The smaller prop aircraft that took me to Nassau was completely full, but the views on the trip over the azure seas that surround The Bahamas were spectacular.  Nassau is a big, modern international airport.  I immediately checked in for my flight, four hours early, and then hung out in the international departure lounge where I had a really good curry for lunch.

The rest of the day was pretty much typical airline travel: safe, controlled, efficient, and boring.  I was glad to see Lamar and Dianne when they picked me up in Jacksonville and took me to a restaurant for dinner.

Saturday – Family and friends

Lamar, my sisters, and I all went out to breakfast Saturday morning.  Then my Dianne, Carol, and I visited my parent’s graves on the first anniversary of Mom’s passing.  Dianne and Carol spruced up the floral arrangements as we reminisced.  Mom and Dad did a great job raising us and it was appropriate to remember them.

I had lunch with Jeff Wilder, and old high school buddy who works as a furniture maker and woodworker.  He still lives in Jacksonville, working not a mile from where I grew up.  We reminisced over a nice pizza.

That afternoon I drove to Carol’s home in Ponte Vedra.  We rode bikes to her club which is located right on the beach and had a little workout in the gym, followed by drinks on the beach.  After dinner at her home I drove back to Dianne’s for the night.

Sunday – Children and Grandchildren

The rest of my adventure was more of a vacation – just an easy drive back west, listening to an audio book about ESPN and then catching some of the football games on satellite radio.  I had just had a short chat in New Orleans with my son, Richard as he was working at his restaurant, The Big Cheezy, and was, as usual, busy.  Let it be said that The Big Cheezy has the best grill cheese sandwiches in New Orleans, no, the world.  Of course, they are a lot more than mere grilled cheese.

It was an easy jaunt from New Orleans to Morgan City where my eldest daughter, Vanessa, and her two beautiful daughters, Alexis and Hadley live with steady Eddie Roe.  After sharing a bit of early Christmas with my granddaughters we paid a visit to Eddie’s hunting lodge.  I am used to driving hours and hours to go hunt; Eddie drives for ten minutes.  His father owns a lot of land and has a camp house that is bigger than my home, all finished in golden cypress – the place is amazing.  I was so astounded at this wonderful place out in the middle of the woods that I completely forgot to take any pictures.  Probably just as well – they would not do it justice.

Monday – Home again         

I left with the girls Monday morning, just as it was getting light.  I cruised home, only stopping to get a great breakfast at a Waffle House.  Why don’t I hit Waffle Houses more often when I am on the road?  You cannot beat them for good, simple food at a reasonable price.

By noon I was home again.  I had traveled 975 miles each way, taking about 29 hours to cover that ground.  That might seem like a lot of distance to cover for a five-day sail, but the journey was part of the experience.  I got to travel by planes, cars, boats, and bicycles and got to talk with old friends and family as well as having a memorable time.

My thanks go out to those who allowed me to stay in their homes during my trip there and back again, to Greg for putting up with me with considerable grace, and most of all to Tor.  This trip would have not happened if Tor had not welcomed aboard Silver Heels, his home and escape vehicle, for this trip.  I will always remember two bits of Tor’s advice.  First, reef early – that is anticipate troubles and prepare for them before they happen.  The second bit of Tor’s wisdom is best expressed in the following graphic.