When we first revealed our cruising plan to our friends and families, they were full of questions. Regardless of how we phrased it, explaining that we were quitting our jobs and selling our house so we could sail the Caribbean with our two dogs made us sound crazy. A cruising lifestyle can be strange and has its own challenges. For us, it’s all a part of the adventure. Below are the answers to our 10 most frequently asked questions.read more
We’ve been liveaboards for 100 days now. Wow, I can’t believe it’s been that long. Time is flying by and it seems like only yesterday we spent our first night on board. Over the last 100 days, we’ve learned a lot about Kairos, about the countries we’ve visited, and about each other. We are so grateful for this opportunity and despite the ups and downs, it’s been amazing. Looking back, however, there are a few things that we could have done better. For those of you considering setting out on a similar adventure, here are the 7 things we’d do differently if we could do it all over again.
1. Buy a Well Maintained Boat. We previously read that it would be difficult to get boat insurance if we purchased a boat over 30 years old. That became the cut off for us. Now we are convinced that the age of the boat doesn’t matter as much. What DOES matter is how well the boat has been maintained. New and old alike, boats have problems. There’s always going to be something to fix or improve. The marine environment is very harsh on equipment. But a well maintained boat will have a lot less headaches.
Kairos (formerly known as “Kansas Out of Oz” and formerly, formerly known as “Clever Skiff”) was in her prime about 15-20 years ago. She was all decked out in the latest systems and electronics. We aren’t taking her anywhere she hasn’t already been. She cruised these islands for many years while we were managing our awkward teenage years. It’s nice to think that our boat is the one taking us to new places and not the other way around. But now many of her systems are outdated and she was not well maintained the two years prior to our purchase. We’ve spent a lot of time repairing/replacing pumps, electrical systems, wiring, hoses, and teak brightwork. All boats require maintenance, but we started off this adventure fixing several years of deferred maintenance on top of the normal stuff. It turned out to be more than we expected.
2. Consider Buying a Boat in the Caribbean. It never crossed our minds to look for boats in Grenada or the BVIs. The boat hunting logistics seemed too difficult. However, we now think fellow cruisers Monday Never got it right when they purchased their boat in the BVIs.
The route from Florida to the BVIs is known as the Thorny Path to Windward. The trade winds blow from the East/Southeast, so we are constantly trying to sail into the wind and waves. It can be brutally uncomfortable and means we have to wait for good weather windows. It’s the most frustrating leg of our journey and here we are trying to tackle it with minimal experience. By purchasing a boat in the Caribbean, we could have skipped the Thorny Path all together and sailed comfortable up the island chains with the wind on our beam.
Where there is Yin, there is Yang. Where there is good, there is bad. Chinese philosophy believes that these contrary forces are actually complementary and interconnected; that they give rise to each other. This is probably true for most things in life, but it is especially true for sailing. For each wonderful day we get to lounge on a pristine white sandy beach, we also have days of frustrating boat maintenance that make us want to throw in the towel. Our first two legs after Georgetown are a perfect example of the boat life Yin and Yang.
The Yin: Sailing to Conception Island
Our 7.5 hour sail to Conception Island was tranquil. We had waited for the perfect weather window to leave Georgetown and the day couldn’t have been better. We were even able to shut off the engine and make great time with just the wind in our sails. Sailing can be so peaceful with the sun on your face and the sound of water rushing by your hull.
So far, we’ve done more motoring than sailing on this adventure. You can sail any direction, EXCEPT directly into the wind. Because the trade winds blow from the east/southeast, most of the time we are traveling directly into the wind. Not only can crashing straight into the waves be uncomfortable, but it also makes it impossible to put sails up. It is for this reason the trek from Florida to the Virgin Islands has been named the “Thorny Path to Windward”. But from Georgetown to Conception Island, we were traveling NORTHeast for a change and it was magnificent.
We dropped anchor only 100 feet from a pristine white sand beach on the west side of the island around 3:00pm. It was nice to anchor so close to shore. For once, walking the dogs would be a breeze. Hell, if we really wanted to, we could just toss them off the boat and watch them swim to shore. We played on the beach for the remainder of the afternoon and then returned to the boat for dinner, drinks, and a sunset view. Life was good.
The next day we finally busted out the dive hookah and dove the reef on the north side of the island. There was a ridiculous number of coral heads lined up and full of colorful creatures for us to explore. We were looking for one creature in particular—L-O-B-S-T-E-R. We came home empty handed, but it was still fun to snorkel such a beautiful area.
After we cleaned up, we took a ride in the dinghy to the nearby creek through the mangroves, where we saw hundreds of turtle heads popping up out of the water. They would come up for air, then head right back down again. It resembled a giant game of WHACK-A-MOLE.
We returned to the boat to course plan for our trip to Rum Cay the next day. The weather forecast was calling for 15-20kt winds. We knew it would be a little rough, but Rum Cay was only 4 hours away. We could handle it. That’s when I realized that the marina on Rum Cay was CLOSED. It has actually been closed since before last year’s hurricane. With the marina closed and hurricane Joaquin wiping out the other services on the island, we would not be able to get fuel or water in Rum Cay. This was alarming because we did not have enough fuel to make it to our next stop, Mayaguana. Our options became 1) return to Georgetown, or 2) head further south to Clarence Town on Long Island. Not wanting to depart from Chicken Harbor twice, we chose option 2.
The Yang: Sailing to Clarence Town
As wonderful as our sail to Conception Island had been, our sail to Clarence Town was the exact opposite. The 3-5 foot seas we saw when we left the anchorage grew into 8 foot seas. Once again we were traveling directly into the wind, our bow smashing into the waves. Kairos was bucking and rearing as our hull crashed back to the water surface after each surge.
The safety gear came out: life jackets, personal locator beacons, dog life jackets, and dog tethers. With the pups secured on the cockpit floor, Rob and I braced ourselves for a long 9 hour day.
Not even 2 hours into our trip, we heard the dreaded sound of our engine RPMs dropping. A few minutes later our engine had completely shut off. By now, we are no longer strangers to fuel supply issues. There was the incident in Marathon when we had to call Boat US for a tow. We also changed filters near Chub Cay and again in Nassau. We were going through fuel filters so quickly, we purchased a whole new filter housing set up so we could swap out our current system for a more readily available Racor system.
However, after researching and reading the Boat Galley’s post on this topic, we were convinced that the problem wasn’t particulate in our fuel. We believed that we had a leak somewhere in the vacuum side of the fuel supply line and air was getting into the system. Fuel supply issues can be notoriously difficult to diagnosis and resolve. Once “fixed”, the only way to test the solution is to run the motor for a long period. Not to mention that there could be multiple issues. Maybe it’s both an air leak and particulate fouling. Maybe there are multiple air leaks. Our engine died four times during our 9 hour trip. One thing was certain—we had an issue that needed to be resolved.
We quickly realized that there was no need to change the filter out. We could bleed the system and run for a couple of hours before it would shut down again. Under pleasant conditions, this may have not been as big of an issue, but we didn’t have pleasant conditions. Each time the engine would die, we’d let out the jib, turn 90 degrees off our route, and set our autopilot. With the boat under full sail, Rob and I could then go down below to bleed the engine. The last place you want to be in rolling conditions is below deck. We were both getting nauseas and couldn’t stand to be down there more than a few minutes at a time. We’d go through the routine of bleeding the fuel line. I manned the mechanical fuel pump while Rob cracked open the bleeder nut. As soon as the task was complete, we rushed upstairs for some fresh air and relief.
By the time we reached Clarence Town, we were banged up, exhausted, and defeated. As if the sailing gods wanted one last laugh at us, it started to rain as we were trying to scope out the anchorage. It was such a relief when we finally dropped our anchor. It was a long, long day, but we were safe and finally resting. Then we noticed the sailboat behind us in the channel had run aground. We couldn’t believe it. They were just behind us. As bad as our day was, it looked like theirs was worse. Luckily a VERY large mega-yacht was able to help them off the reef. As we were getting the boat settled for the night, the rain let up and a full rainbow appeared across our gorgeous anchorage—reminding us that if you want to see a rainbow, you have to deal with a little rain.
While we were in Clarence Town, we removed our filter housing and filter and replaced it with a Racor system. We have since run 20 hours on our engine with no issues. My guess is that there was a leak in the filter housing or coalescer. We know better than to assume it’s completely fixed, but it’s certainly better.
Like Rum Cay, Clarence Town was also severely damaged by hurricane Joaquin. Many homes, the grocery store, the co-op, and the school were flattened. The town is trying to rebuild, but progress is slow. The town’s children have been relocated to other settlements to attend school. A town without children sounds incredibly sad, but the locals we talked to were pretty optimistic. “Sure the hurricane destroyed so much. But these things are just materials that can be replaced. No one lost their life. No one lost a limb. In a way we were lucky”. The Yin and the Yang.
I want to thank everyone for all the wonderful birthday wishes. It was great to hear from so many of you, especially since I spent the majority of the day in a Benadryl induced fog. I was COVERED in bug bites. You might think I’m exaggerating by saying that I had 2,000 bug bites, but I assure that it is an accurate estimation. I started counting and reached 542 by the time I hit my knee on the first leg.
How on Earth does someone manage to get 2,000 bug bites, you might be wondering. Why didn’t I flee the area if I was getting bit so much? What could possible bite me 2,000 times without me swatting and killing it?
Meet my assailant, the No-see-um. You might know them as biting midges, sand flies, or, if you are a bugologist, ceratopogonidae. If you are like me, then you have never heard of these things before.
On our last night in Marathon, Rob and I took the pups to the Dockside Bar and Grill for happy hour after a day of fishing (fishing, but not catching). As the sun was setting, we started to feel these tiny stings on our legs. We couldn’t see any bugs (hence the name no-see-ums), but we could certainly feel their bites. Unlike a mosquito bite, there was no obvious signs that we were being bit—no red marks, no swelling. It appeared to us that these small gnats were just a nuisance. For the lucky ones (Rob) that aren’t allergic this is exactly all that they are. For those poor souls (me) that are allergic, they will make your life Hell for the next two weeks.
I awoke the next morning to find my legs covered in small bites. Rob of course didn’t have a single bite. NOT ONE BITE! As the day progressed, the welts grew larger and the itch more intense. Benadryl, cortisone cream, aloe, and ice couldn’t suppress it. I knew that I shouldn’t scratch them and when I lost my willpower and did, it only amplified the itch. I spent the next several hours googling no-see-ums and how to treat bites. The following is what I have learned:
I’m unlucky. It’s not uncommon to have a reaction to the bites. But some people are luckily enough to not be allergic to them, which explains why Rob didn’t have any bites.
There is a delayed response. It can take up to 24 hours before your bites swell and itch.
Don’t scratch. This is easier said than done, but scratching only increases the itch, can cause scaring, and may lead to infection.
Be prepared. These little buggers come out at dawn and dusk and especially on calm nights. The windy nights seem to keep them away. DEET and Skin So Soft appear to be the best repellents. I now carry one of the two with me any time we leave the boat in the evenings. Even at Bahamian prices, we invested in some Skin So Soft. It smells and feels much better than bug spray.
Heat suppresses the itch. Discovering this fact was the turning point for me. I no longer was pleading with Rob to amputate my legs after I discovered that wrapping my legs in hot towels suppressed the itch for several hours. These hot water treatments helped me get through the week.
Expect a two week recovery. I nearly cried the first time I read this. TWO WEEKS!?!? As I write this entry I’m nine days into my recovery and it is A LOT better. The itch goes away after a week and then the bites start to fade. I still look like I’m on an episode of Naked and Afraid, but I’m optimistic that the bites will completely disappear in a few days.
Rob is at the helm and the pups are taking naps in the cockpit. I’m sunning myself on the bow of the boat when I hear a big splash. I peered over the edge and I see two dolphins playing and jumping right in front of us. They swim with us for a while and I’m smiling ear to ear with excitement. I think to myself, “we have found paradise”.
Rewind 24 hours and I look at Rob and say, “I don’t think I’m cut out to sail in the ocean.” He chuckles a little bit, but only a little bit because he knows I’m not kidding.
I’ve just returned to the cockpit from securing some flying objections down below. I’m worried about the dogs. Jaela is so terrified that she’s shivering and foaming at the mouth. Baxter is hyperventilating and I’m worried his little heart might explode. The 3 – 5 ft waves in the Gulf are hitting our starboard side, causing the boat to rock very uncomfortably. I pop a Dramamine and hope it’s not too late to avoid seasickness. And I wonder, how on earth I’m going to deal with this for the next year.
What a difference, 24 hours and about 20 mph in wind speed makes. We spent a total of three nights in Naples. One night anchored outside the $5 million mansions and two nights on a mooring ball at Naples City Dock. $10 a night was a good deal. We had easy access to the dinghy dock and to downtown Naples.
We had our Valentine’s Day dinner at Old Naples Pub (the Pickle Bar) and enjoyed some relaxing time off the boat. As always, we spent a few hours doing some boat maintenance, while we monitored the weather. After reviewing the weather forecasts, we decided we would trek down to Marathon on Tuesday and Wednesday (Feb 16th-17th). We planned to leave bright and early on Tuesday morning, but some unexpected thunderstorms made us scrap that plan.
We left our mooring ball at 8:30 on Tuesday morning. Now while the winds had calmed down, the seas were still stirred up from the thunderstorm. As we exited Gordon Pass, we had about 3.5 foot seas. The waves were very frequent, causing the boat to rock considerably. It was at this point that I started worry about the dogs and started feeling pretty discouraged about our choice in transportation for this adventure. But luckily, within an hour, the seas calmed down and we were able to bring the dogs up into the cockpit. Once in the cockpit, the pups calmed down and napped.
By the afternoon, it was smooth sailing. Because of our late start, we decided to anchor out at Indian Key in the Everglades. We read that there was a beach we could dinghy to and thought it would be great for the pups, since potty training on the boat isn’t going well. The anchorage was beautiful and besides from a few crab boats that passed by, we had it all to ourselves.
We took the dinghy to Indian Key where we planned to explore and kill a few hours before dinner. However, we were instantly swarmed by a thousand mosquitos. Needless to say, our stay was short lived. Back at the boat we enjoyed a mosquito-less dinner and a nice sunset. We called it an early night, because we knew we’d be leaving early the next morning for Marathon.
We took the pups to shore at 4:00am on Wednesday and prepared the boat for our first sail in the dark. It’s a pretty eerie feeling to sail in the pitch black and have little visibility. We used a spot light to find the channel markers and to look out for crab pots. We were happy to see the sunrise about an hour later and the pups were even happier, because that meant they could join us in the cockpit. The winds were light, so we had to motor sail. The waves were non-existent and you could tell it was going to be a beautiful, smooth sailing day.
I’m going to petition the Olympic committee to get crab pot dodging added as a sport. I know the perfect training course. A couple of trips between the Everglades and Marathon and you’ll be a pro. At first Rob and I were pretty militant about spotting crab pots. “Crab pot at 12:00.” “Crab pot at 11:40.” But a couple of hours and a few thousand crab pots later, we gave up calling them out. Instead we took turns at the helm avoiding the little buggers. Hitting one would mean that we risk getting the line wrapped up in our prop and we definitely didn’t want to deal with that mess.
It was while I was on a crab pot dodging break when I watched the dolphins swimming at our bow. I’m sure seasoned sailors are used to this sort of thing, but it was a pretty magical moment for me.
Things could not have been going any smoother. It was 4:30 and we were nearing the Seven Mile Bridge in Marathon. This meant that we would have plenty of daylight to find a decent anchorage and take the pups to shore. We had planned it perfectly. Then our engine died right after we crossed under the bridge. We had traveled over 200 miles and the engine just couldn’t make the last 5.
Rob quickly changed the fuel filters and bled the fuel line, but no luck. I opened a view port on our diesel tank and verified that we had fuel. With the sun setting and us stopped in our tracks in the middle of the channel just after the bridge, we had no choice but to call for a tow.
Luckily we had just purchased Boat US Towing insurance. What would have been a very expensive ordeal, didn’t cost us a dime. Jared from Boat US towed us into the Boot Key Harbor and helped us find a place to anchor. We then had to endure a very long dinghy ride in the dark in order to walk the pups. It was not how we had envisioned our first night in the Keys. But at least we made it safely.
It’s becoming very obvious that this adventure will be full of highs and lows. But one thing is sure, cruising is never boring.
All of the anchor lights in Boot Key Harbor at night
We have been living aboard for 10 days now. I can’t believe it’s actually been that long. The time is flying by. We’ve learned a lot of things since moving on board. For example we just learned how to take apart and clean a carburetor. We also recently learned which way the valve handle should be pointed to ensure we are pumping the toilet to the holding tank instead of overboard (oops– fortunately we haven’t really used it yet). But in addition to learning about our boat’s systems, we have also learned (or relearned in many causes) some valuable life lessons. Here are our 10 lessons learned from 10 days of living aboard.
1) Get to Know Your Neighbors
This isn’t an entirely new concept to us. We were good friends with our neighbors back in Denver. However, in most of the places I’ve lived, I didn’t make an effort to know my neighbors…let alone everyone on the block.
I’ve been blown away by the kindness and helpfulness we’ve encountered since beginning this journey. From our beach apartment neighbor, Jon, who took us fishing, stocked our boat with every possible medical supply we might need, and invited us to many fish fries, to our dock neighbors, who are always there to throw us a line, help us disassemble a carburetor, and happily share useful tips–we have been truly blessed to meet such wonderful people.
Striking up conversations with strangers isn’t something that comes natural to me. Like most engineers, I can be a bit of an introvert. But the warmth of the sailing community makes it very easy to find instant friends. A large portion of our success so far has come from learning from others who have been there and done that.
So regardless if we will be neighbors for a night or for months, we will continue to make an effort to strike up conversations with anyone we meet along the way. And this is something I will continue to do after our sailing adventure is done. We’ve all had those “small world” experiences. Obviously you won’t become besties with every person you sit next to on a plane or make a business contact with each person you talk to at the dog park, but you never know if you don’t initiate a conversation.
2) Back to the Basics
Our new home is quite a bit smaller than our 2700 sq. ft. home in Denver. Needless to say, we’ve had to downsize a lot. We’ve are constantly asking the question, “is this a need or a want?” More often than not, the answer is “it’s a want.” It turns out that we don’t NEED much.
We’ve cooked dinner on board 9 out of the last 10 nights. We’ve made many of our favorite dishes with one pot, one frying pan, a wooden spoon, a knife, and a cutting board. I certainly do miss my fully stocked kitchen, but we’ve been able to make delicious meals without all of our kitchen gadgets.
We still, however, have several wants on board. Do I need throw pillows? No, but they are pretty and make me smile. Does Rob need a spear gun? No, but he’s pretty excited to try it out. Do the dogs need doggie beds? No, but it makes them comfortable.
Just like anything else, it’s a balancing act. We make sure our needs are covered (food, shelter, water, medical, safety) and wisely chose what wants we bring on board.
3) Patience is a Virtue
We were so used to “Go, go, go”…that it’s taking time for us to adjust to “Slow, slow, slow”.
Whether it’s with each other, with frustrating boat projects, or with the Bahamas who are taking FOREVER to issue our dog permits, our patience is constantly being tested. However, we purposely left the hustle and bustle of our Denver lives to enjoy the “relaxing” sailing lifestyle. We are learning to slow down and smell the roses ocean.
4) Organization is Key
Finally something I’m already good at! There is a place for everything and everything has its place on a boat. We are now living in a small space and organization is key. This is right up my alley. Because of my OCD characteristics, I find great satisfaction in organizing our boat and ensuring that everything is tucked safely away in its home at the end of the day. It’s important to have a system–otherwise you’ll end up tearing the place apart looking for a dinghy patch kit (which now lives inside the ditch bag).
5) Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff
This is certainly something I need to work on. Rob and I get to spend a lot of time together now. Like every single moment. 24/7. Most of the time it’s great. But anytime you spend this much time with one person, you’re bound to get on each other’s nerves sometimes. Because of my type A personality, I may tend to over react occasionally. So when Rob misplaces the dinghy patch kit or the dogs get their dirty paws on my new cushions, my natural response is to implode. However, I’m learning to “shake it off” and remember what’s really important. And I’m finding life is a lot more fun and enjoyable for everyone.
6) Keep it Simple Stupid
Boat systems today look a lot different than they did in 1989 when our Pearson 39-2 was built. Therefore, most of our systems were added some time after the boat was manufactured. Thus, our Pearson users manual doesn’t do us much good when we are troubleshooting these upgrades. Moving parts and electrical systems fail. Without proper maintenance, they will fail frequently in a marine environment. So whenever possible, it’s best to keep it simple. Sure there are a lot of new boating gadgets out there to make life more comfortable aboard. But adding complexity, likely means adding more maintenance cost and time.
Having said that, we’re totally getting a watermaker. It will give us more flexibility during our adventure and come on…making drinkable water from the ocean sounds pretty cool. Maybe we can retrofit it to be a winemaker?
7) Measure Your Progress Over Time
We’ve had many days where it seems like for every step forward we take two steps back. We start each day with a list of things we want to accomplish. At the end of the day, we sometimes celebrate with beers because we were able to cross each item off. Other days we sulk over beers because our to do list grew instead of shrunk.
You win some, you lose some. But when we look back over the last month, we are so proud of everything we have accomplished:
