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.
The third earthquake struck at sunrise shutting down all power to the island and foiling our plans to fuel before leaving on an offshore passage. Do we have enough fuel to make it? What happens when we’re at sea if another quake hits?
Growing up in National Parks, I took for granted our natural resources would be well protected. I contemplated the state of our planet—warming climates, trash, apathy—we see it everywhere in our travels…and today, even in a National Park.
I’m afraid of the dark. When I was little I’d take a flying leap into my bed so the boogey monster couldn’t drag me into his lair. Fast forward and I’m forced to face my fear on a boat in the middle of an ocean.
Daylight emerges ever so quietly in a heavy bank of fog. After hours of uninterrupted seas during our overnight passage from Cape Cod, lobster pots make their debut. Suddenly, a loud CLUNK! against the hull draws us all to attention.
New Year…new resolutions—I’ll write more! I do write a daily entry in our log book but the sailing talk would bore you. You know I love to write and really I want to keep you up-to-date on our adventures. Did you also know I get sea sick?
When your sweet kitty leaves a hole in your heart, it’s a real treasure to revive some memories. Hidden deep in a pile of half-finished stories was this fun account from our sweet Dot. May it bring you a smile:)
We arrived in mainland Europe in August 2022 and have been on a fast pace to cover 1200 miles from Portugal, Spain, Corsica, and Sardinia to arrive in Sicily by October 1st. We we will leave Gémeaux for the winter while we return to CA and then resume sailing in the spring of 2023.