A dinghy is a critical piece of our household and everybody has a story about losing one. We were six miles from shore, seas were choppy, and the sun was bright. It would be a miracle to find the needle in this haystack of an ocean.
I’ve been searching for an underwater critter since we began this journey. It lives in the sea but is a terrible swimmer. It’s considered a fish but doesn’t have scales, a stomach, or teeth. The female of the species is in charge…
We take in a final sunset and slip under the covers before we launch into a 5-night sleepless passage. Two hours later, adrenaline turns us into night owls and we exit in the dark. Next stop Abaco…750 miles away.
January evaporated at a speed faster than my fingers could write. Now, on this last day of the month, we’re safe on Gémeaux in bouncy water too rough to snorkel or paddle board so it’s the perfect day to describe where the month went.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw it swimming fast at me. Face your danger, they always say, so I drew my legs into my chest and kicked hard. All the splashing just obscured my view so I couldn’t see the direction of his next assault.
It’s 80 miles long and only four miles wide. It’s home to the second deepest blue hole in the world and you can get married here but you’ll need proof of spinstership! That’s the short of it. Want to hear the long story?
We should have been sitting on an Italian terrace drinking Chianti, but a global pandemic tends to alter plans. We registered again for the annual Salty Dawg Rally—it was wild and unpredictable from the start.
Covid-19 is closing borders, forcing people to find a new way of life…making all the decisions. For us, the ultimate dictator is still weather. An incoming storm drove us to the Abacos, an island still recovering from the last storm.
Living on a sailboat essentially has prepared us for a pandemic. If this lovely tropical scene has provided any sense of insulation, it all disappeared the day we learned a family member tested positive for Covid-19.
We could have turned right with everyone else but the other direction was described as rugged beauty. No fuel, no hotels, no groceries, and the main gateway was a very shallow sandbar impassable by many boats. Perfect—we turned left.
The noise got louder and the pounding intensified. I tried to remain calm as breathing became more difficult. I knew I had swum too close to the craggy shoreline and the next wave would hurl me into rocks.
Upon learning that indeed selling someone’s own property back to them or to someone else is against the law, an official sting operation was launched. Now under the direction of the Turks and Caicos police force, Mike and Allen set off for the agreed-upon drop point at the gas station.