A Life Filled With Curiosity is a Life Well Lived

New Smyrna to St. Augustine –60 nautical miles sailed

It was a long, boring day. We left New Smyrna at 7:30 am and dropped anchor at 5:30 pm in St. Augustine. The weather was cool, with a north wind blowing in between 15 and 20 knots all day so we kept the cockpit enclosure zipped us tight as we motored endlessly up the mostly straight channels of the ICW, seeing little of interest besides the curved backs of surfacing dolphins and seabirds dive bombing bait fish.

So today I will write about a podcast I listened to during the overnight run from Bahamas to the US. I follow a regular series called Stoic Coffee Break and had downloaded one called “Stay Curious: The Stoic Case for Asking Why”. I don’t think I’ve listened to any episodes since the start of our trip, but I really enjoyed this one and it made me realize how important a role curiosity has played on this sailing adventure. Without a burning sense of curiosity, there is no way this trip could have ever happened.

The hobby (or lifestyle for some) of sailing demands a high level of curiosity as there are always far more questions than answers, more opinions than facts, and every sailor we meet seems to be particularly skilled at some aspect of cruising, whether that’s the technical mastery of sailing, being an excellent navigator or good with electronics, or even some of the non-sailing parts of the experience such as photography, video, writing, research, or building a wide network of cruising contacts. But nobody knows everything. There is much to learn and everybody you meet has an important piece of information to pass onto you…if you ask the right question, which requires a perpetual sense of curiosity.

Curiosity is an antidote to ego; if you believe you know everything and don’t ever ask any questions then you are trapped in a static position and are unable to learn and grow. Nobody likes a know-it-all, yet everybody likes to be in-the-know. Throughout this trip we have asked so many people so many questions, to try and fill the gaps of our inexperience with the Erie Canal, the ICW, ocean sailing, and navigating the shallows of the Bahamas. And it has helped. We’ve learned so much - some from trial and error - but also many things from the people we have met and often online resources they have directed us to. And people are always happy to share.

Curiosity leads to discovery which leads to joy. Just look at a young child. They never stop asking questions and are fascinated by… everything! They love being amazed. They are curious about the world and when faced with something new, are only too happy to touch it, taste it, flick it, step on it, poke it. As we grow older, our sense of curiosity is beaten down by our yearning for certainty and a lifeless satisfaction in routine. Before long, our adult life becomes a series of checklists and obligations with hardly a moment or available energy left to stop and have a really good look at that flower. Moments of joy become sparse, needled out by irritation, unmet expectations, unrealistic demands.

When is the last time you allowed yourself to be fascinated by something? Say, a pretty rock or shell. Or a leaf. A bug, maybe. Or the peculiar shape of a puddle or an image in the clouds? When did you last stop for a moment to engage with the world as it is, not as you assume it to be, which is often mistaken. Children do this all the time. Curiosity and fascination come naturally as they are not afraid of not knowing something or appearing dumb. They ask why. Theirs is a beginner’s mind. They are not afraid. As adults we don’t ask for nor take advice because we already know everything. Appearing as if we do not is evidence of weakness. We are the Knowers, not the Seekers. Yet, as history has shown, the key to wisdom is not in knowing all the answers; it is in asking better questions. It is only the wisest who know they know nothing.

Having a sailboat has enabled us to nourish our sense of curiosity. In fact, staying afloat on a boat demands it. Why is the engine making a different noise today? Where is that smell coming from? Why is there oil and water in the oil pan? Where did this nut on deck come from? Why is the boat not moving as fast as it should be? What is causing those scrape marks? Why is the bilge running more frequently. Why is it getting wet behind that cabinet? Why is this bolt loose? How did that crack open up? Why is the water a different colour over there? Issues on a boat take on special significance when you realize there is only half an inch of fibreglass separating you from fifteen thousand feet of ocean depth.

Staying curious allows us to troubleshoot problems before they become emergencies and avoid disasters (usually). Assumptions lead to bad decisions. For example, yesterday we were motoring along the ICW, keeping the green buoys on our right and reds on our left. We came to a curve where they were reversed. Knowing this happens in some areas of the ICW, we assumed they had switched so we tried to go between them… and ended up stuck on a sand shoal. We should have stopped the boat and asked why instead of pushing ahead under a wrong assumption. We could have easily avoided this by asking the right questions.

Ana and I have always had a curiosity about the world which is why we have spent so much of our time together traveling and exploring. This trip has enabled us to itch this scratch like never before as the complete freedom on the water has led us to the most remarkable oceans, rivers, estuaries, ponds, and bays where we’ve seen so many magnificent creatures, experienced solitude, relished sunsets, been transfixed by unreal vistas, and explored the underwater worlds of valleys, tunnels, wrecks, coral, swaying sea grass, brilliantly coloured reef fish, turtles, sharks, lobsters, eels, and conch. On land we’ve explored towns, met so many interesting people, visited shops, walked trails, climbed hills, lurked in caves, dropped into blue holes. Every day has been an adventure. Every day has brought something new. Sometimes I feel we’re like drug addicts but addicted to newness instead of a substance.

A life filled with curiosity is a life well lived.

What Happened to the Old Smyrna?

Titusville to New Smyrna – 28 nautical miles sailed, 2 miles in dinghy, 3 kilometres walked, many dolphins, 3 manatees 

My brother must have worn us out last night because I didn’t even open my eyes until 8am this morning, a nautical travesty. We left immediately after prepping the boat and were back on the ICW headed for the town of New Smyrna. It was a pleasant and uneventful ride, although I did spot three manatees and a large number of dolphins.

We dropped anchor south of the town then sat in the cockpit for a long while watching the dolphins surfacing on all sides of our boat, some close, some further away. I don’t know why there were so few dolphins in the Bahamas, but we really missed them and are thrilled to be back on the Daily Dolphin program.

The public dinghy docks in New Smyrna had been destroyed by the recent hurricane so the only one left was a private one at the River Deck restaurant. We tied up the dinghy there, told the hostess we’d be back for a beer and snacks later, then went walking. The town was nice. Many art shops and galleries. A dozen restaurants and bars. A couple of cute coffee shops. Some boutiques. But nothing really stood out for us. I didn’t even find anything interesting enough to photograph so I had Ana take a picture of me drinking a craft beer (Shark Attack, local brew, fabulous) at the bar. I intended to ask the server what happened to the Old Smyrna, but fortunately I spared her the embarrassment of having to respond to a Dad Joke she's probably already heard a hundred times.

In the evening, I attended the Newport Yacht Club tech team meeting (I’m a member, but have been wholly ineffective, predictably absent, and mostly useless during our ocean adventures…) and Ana joined in at the end to discuss some club stuff then we had a short, but great visit with our marina buddies.

It was not the most exciting day, nor was it the least.

A Surprise Visitor in Titusville

Cocoa to Titusville – 18 nautical miles sailed, 2 miles in dinghy, 8 kilometres walked, 3 dolphins, one alligator, 3 manatees

We spent the morning in Cocoa, exploring further, and found even more bars, restaurants, cultural venues, and the largest and most interesting hardware store we’ve ever seen - the S.F. Travis company, founded in 1885. We went in to have a look around and found at least three buildings, one with three stories, jammed full of everything you can imagine from 5-foot-long Godzilla pipe wrenches to 2” thick manilla rope to wooden wagon wheels to every variety of screw, bolt, nut, washer, plumbing fitting, and electrical connecter ever made, in boxes by the thousands. It was half store, half museum, and one of the staff showing us around rolled out a steel safe on casters to expose a piece of the space shuttle floor, lying on the ground with a dusty sign stating “SPACE SHUTTLE FLOOR”. Another staff member told us that staff from NASA, Blue Origin, SpaceX, and the cruise ship companies are in here all the time picking up supplies, which explains the 4-foot-long wrenches, sheets of aluminum, rolls of steel cable, and massive come-alongs. This store has played a significant role in the construction and ongoing maintenance of the Kennedy Space Center and nearby Patrick Air Force base and serves the entire aerospace industry, defense contractors, small businesses, and regular home owners too. I could have spent an entire day here looking around.

In the end, we bought a canvas snap kit, a set of home tools for Stella (she moves to Guelph in the fall), and a camouflaged tie-down strap. As we were checking out I asked the clerk, “What on earth do you guys use for an inventory system to keep track of all this stuff?”

“Well, basically nothing,” she said as she looked at me over her glasses and punched the value of our purchases into a calculator. “Nothing’s written down and the guys sort of just wander around and reorder stuff when stock gets low, or sometimes they don’t if they can’t remember what was there, so just order whatever.”

“So, there’s really no inventory system.”

“Nope. Old school at its best.”

Our wanderings led us to an artists’ collective where I found a bitchin Misfits t-shirt with a giant, scary skull on the front, and Ana got a pretty purse. They had a killer record section with classic band posters, but our record player on SeaLight was on the fritz and wall space in the boat is limited so I had to reluctantly pass. I also found a custom maple table with dazzling electric blue metallic highlights imprinted in the lacquer, plus four equally mesmerizing chairs, but limited floor space on SeaLight again thwarted a purchase.

We stopped at a coffee shop with an outdoor seating area tucked snugly into a decorated alleyway bordered by another squat building with a beauty parlour and a marketing company. I sipped my decaf espresso, Ana enjoyed her latte, and we shared this fantabulous guava cheese lattice pastry as we talked.

“Look, they do Brazilian Blowouts,” Ana said as she pointed to a colourful sign on the door of the beauty place.

“Brazilian Blowout?” I asked.

“Do you know what that is?”

I knew a Brazilian was a gruesome wax patch removal of hair in the female nether regions, but a Brazilian Blowout? I opted to hazard a guess.

“Not sure,” I started, nervously, “but I’m guessing it’s a high-powered cleansing of the pubic region?”

“No, you nitwit - it’s a hairstyle.”

“I thought Brazilians liked to remove hair?”

“Only from certain areas. Here, let me show you a gallery of Brazilian Blowouts.”

Since I had nothing else to do, I watched as she flipped through a gallery of women with straightened hair and I nodded approvingly, though not enthusiastically. Fortunately, our coffees soon ran dry.

By 12:30 we were back on the water and headed to Titusville, a town we’d visited on the way down and quite enjoyed, particularly the marina and the wonderful staff there. Along the way I received a message from my brother Marty. Not only was he in Orlando for a work conference, but he had rented a convertible Mustang and was driving over to visit us tonight! We were both thrilled, as we hadn’t seen Marty for over a year, and hey, we just love surprises.

We arrived in Titusville around three hours later, filled up on fuel and gloriously free, high quality water, and saw not just an alligator cruising the marina, but also a dolphin, and a mother and juvenile manatee who swam right by our boat, and even looked up and winked at me. There is nothing more beautiful than a manatee.

Marty arrived at 7pm and was sporting a nicely trimmed man beard with sprinklings of grey at the chin, adding even more substance to his character, but he was also wearing closed shoes and socks, which caused a shudder to vibrate through my body. I shook it off and hugged my bro. I’d missed him.

Before hopping in the dinghy we walked the concrete boardwalk and lucked out with seeing a juvenile manatee suspended in the water. Marty had never seen one before so I am happy fortune smiled upon us.

Back at SeaLight, hugs were exchanged, sundowners were sipped, dinner was enjoyed, and conversation was non-stop as we caught up on a year’s worth of news, and Marty spotted yet another manatee in the water as we sat in the cockpit. I will say that both of my brothers are so good at making the effort to meet up. They always have been. And we always have a great time, even if it’s brief.

After dinner Ana said, “Marty, I know you have another day of the conference tomorrow, but why don’t you and Kris head into Titusville to have some fun tonight before you have to leave. It’s been so good to see you again!”

With the green light given, I grabbed a bottle of rum and Marty seized the tequila, and the tequila was gone by the time we reached the marina, so we flung the empty bottle at the lurking alligator and popped it right in the snout. We crashed the dinghy into somebody’s boat but managed to jump to the dock as the dinghy floated away, gushing air from a ripped seam. We leaped into the convertible Mustang, cool-like, without using the doors and Marty revved the engine as we had a few slugs of the rum and banged heads to Wild Side, blasting from his Motley Crue cassette on the powerful Bose stereo. I retrieved the hunting knife from my calf holster and gave my brother a quick dry shave, forming up a deadly handlebar mustache, while I put on my best whiplash smile. We gave each other the “Olson nod” then Marty hammered the gas and the rear-wheel drive tires lit up, throwing smoke and squeals as he did a ruthless cop turn, knocking over two garbage cans and a Little Free Library, throwing pop cans, fish guts, and useless self-help books into the air as we laughed and fish-tailed away. Marty blew through three red lights, narrowly avoiding collisions, with his middle finger deployed, and drove through a fence into the prize-winning town gardens where he pulled a dozen 360’s, ripping up daisies, bluebells, roses, and took the stalks out from a bunch of sunflowers, leaving their sunny faces spinning in mid-air, wondering what the hell had just happened. We laughed like maniacs. Marty “Lightning McQueen” Olson then floored the accelerator and we raced at 120 mph down Main Street, guitars blasting and Vince Neil screaming a smashing tale of Dr. Feelgood. We came to a skidding halt in front of the Slippy Slidey Tigercat Space Zone nightclub and strutted in, but not after flinging the empty rum bottle at a passing cop car, knocking down one of the cherries and causing it to skid across the road and into an alligator pond. The club was full of scantily clad chicks and local dudenicks dancing a frenzy to house music. After downing another litre of spirits which we stole from behind the bar after head-butting the skinny bartender, I grabbed an ashtray and flung it into the crowd, skipping it neatly off the noggin of a jockster then shattering a wall of mirrors. The fight was on. It was ten against two but they didn’t have a chance as Marty and I had been well trained from the years of our youth playing Double Dragon in smoky Saskatoon arcades and watching Chuck Norris masterpieces. The crowd parted, leaving the twelve of us in an open circle, already stamped with bloody footprints with the ample flow from the gash on jockster’s head. Marty nodded at the DJ and the fists started swinging as Motorhead’s classic Ace of Spades rang throughout the club. A finely choreographed series of flying side kicks, roundhouse chops, throat punches, crushing solar plexus hammer blows, and a magnificent spinning round kick Marty delivered to the biggest of the brutes left a pile of ten bloodied and broken bodies as the two of us stood atop the pile bowing to the cheers of the awe-inspired bystanders. By then it was getting a bit late, but we still had time to drive out to Cape Canaveral and knock down two of the rocket towers with well-placed explosives Marty had thought to bring along. He dropped me off at the marina, we did a high-five, then I swam back to the boat while he stole a case of beer from the convenience store to keep him hydrated on the way back to Orlando.

It was a great night.

Exploring Cocoa, Florida - TJ Maxx, Noodles, Artful Spaces, and Cheap Pineapples

Cocoa, Florida– 1 mile in dinghy, 8 kilometres walked 

I’d forgotten the noise of North America. The planes and helicopters flying overhead. Wailing sirens of the ambulances, fire trucks, and police cars. Crowds of people talking and shuffling around. The endless streams of traffic and vehicle sounds of roaring engines, amplified music, honking horns. I didn’t realize until today that an umbrella of quiet rests over the Bahamas and that we had become accustomed to it.

Besides the racket, it was fun being back in the US. We had dinghy'd east over to the busy commercial area of Merritt Island which had dozens if not hundreds of stores. Ana's incredible retail radar pinged off the nearest TJ Maxx and she floated into the store on a cushion of joy and took her time browsing through the retail treasures therein. I even looked around for a few minutes and found a nice pot of blueberry jam for a mere $4.99. While Ana luxuriated amongst the leather belts, designer purses, plastic housewares, kitchen knick-knacks, and corn rows of discounted clothing, I went to the Publix supermarket around the corner to see what I could find and returned a while later with two bags, loaded with their best two-for-one deals for a mere twenty bucks.

It’s funny how the brain adjusts rapidly to one’s surroundings. During the trip to Florida, groceries became progressively more expensive to the point of it becoming painful to enter a grocery store in Florida. After spending three months sifting through pricey merchandise in Bahamian grocery stores, provisioning in Florida took on an aura of great value particularly when we found an Aldi grocery store and their scandalously low prices.

After walking across many hot pavements and asphalt surfaces made gooey by the 29-degree heat, carrying our load of goodies, we treated ourselves to lunch at Olive Garden to celebrate our return to the continent. We were aghast to find no hamburgers, conch fritters, or grouper fingers on the menu, so had to settle for unlimited garden salad and hot breadsticks, fettuccine alfredo, and spaghetti and meatballs. We resembled a couple of fat meatballs as we wobbled out of there, having added a take-out tray of fettuccine (midnight snack for later) to our stack of groceries for an additional three bucks.

Back at the boat, we quickly packed away the provisions, then dinghy’d over to the other side of the river to explore the smaller town of Cocoa Village, intrigued by the name and inspired by the other boaters we’d met who loved it.

Well, Cocoa Village is a beautiful little town, an artful diamond in the commercial rough, an artists’ retreat, with colourful and joyful spaces, diversity, shaded pathways, a classic theatre, many small cafes and bars, a French bakery, a busy children’s park, a beach volleyball court, a splash pad, and a gorgeous rotunda performance space, ringed by a brick-tiled covered walkway. Sadly, most of the businesses were closed on a Monday, but during our ride back to the boat we discussed staying another half day to more fully experience this lovely town.

Since our digestive systems were still diligently processing the pasta noodles consumed for lunch, there was no need to make dinner so we had a long sundowner in the cockpit, made a couple of phone calls, and enjoyed the light show from the tiny storm cell passing overhead, throwing lightning bolts and a bit of rain.

We Return to the USA - Rockets, Cruise Ships, and Daily Dolphins

Matanilla Shoal on the Little Bahama Bank to Cocoa, Florida– 125 nautical miles sailed 

After playing chicken with five or six freighters in the darkness, the marine traffic dried up and SeaLight was alone and fully in the grips of the Gulf Stream. I watched, astonished, as our regular cruising speed of 6.5 accelerated up to 7, then 8, then all the way up to 9.5 knots and the sea temperature rocketed from 25 to 30 degrees all in a matter of miles. It was much more fun enjoying the boost from the Gulf Stream than fighting it on the way from Florida to Bimini back in January.

We motored all night and all day in excellent sea conditions, with glassy waters and some large well-spaced ocean swell that we rode up and down, making for a very comfortable passage. We reached the Cape Canaveral channel at around 3:30pm and cleared through US Customs and Border Control almost instantly through their CBP Roam app. We were surprised as they did not do a video interview as we’ve experienced in the past, but we received an email verification stating we were cleared for the US and no further action was required. Being ultra cautious we made a few calls to various CBP numbers to confirm we were indeed good to go, and sent an email to a CBP support contact, but got little in the way of response.

The Cape Canaveral inlet is the safest and largest in all of Florida and opens up into a huge cruise ship port, then two opening bridges, a lock, several marinas, and a four-mile-long canal that leads to the Indian River section of the ICW. Besides the mythically huge cruise ships (The Wonder of the Seas being the largest was saw with 7,000 passengers), there were dozens of small power boats with families out for a Sunday cruise. From outside the inlet you could see many rocket launch towers to the north and I was excited to learn there was a SpaceX launch scheduled for tomorrow afternoon.

We passed through the cruise ship port then reached the entrance of the lock and had to wait a few minutes for it to open. We noticed four or five dolphins playing around in front of the gate and around the waiting boats. The Daily Dolphins are back! We’d missed them so much, as dolphin sightings in the Bahamas were rare. As the lock door slowly opened, the dolphins moved to one side to let the boats through, waited patiently, then swam right into the lock. We were taking pictures and videos from the boat deck like a couple of dopey tourists as all the other local powerboaters roundly ignored them, so I can only assume this is a regular occurrence. I later read online that manatees too will often make use of the lock to get to and from the ocean.

We reached the small town of Cocoa at 6pm, dropped the anchor, and breathed a huge sigh of relief after 34 hours on the water and 230 nautical miles, possibly the longest we've ever done in one passage. The original plan had been to take the dinghy into Cocoa to have a look around, but I was totally spent and being Sunday evening, there likely wasn’t much going on anyway. Instead, we made dinner, watched a movie, and had a quiet first night back in the United States of America.

The Whale Passage and Little Bahama Bank

Treasure Cay to Matanilla Shoal on the Little Bahama Bank – 105 nautical miles sailed

With glassy water and a calm day forecasted we raised the anchor shortly before 8am and were off for the start of a 230 nautical mile run to Florida, waved off by a cheering, shirtless, and morning-haired Ben in Waddington. But after five minutes we noticed the engine was making an odd noise, so checked the exhaust port and could see no water was coming out. I immediately knew the problem and slapped my forehead. Yesterday I had done some routine engine maintenance which included checking the impeller of the sea water pump. I had forgotten to reopen the thru-hull valve after doing this and as a result the engine had been running without water long enough for it to heat up and burn off all the fins of the impeller. Fortunately, I had plenty of spares so replaced it and we were on our way to the Whale Passage.

The menacing whitecaps and breaking waves we saw last time here were replaced with easily ridable and gentle swells, some quite large, but they presented no difficulty in crossing through this feared cut that sinks boats every year. I am glad we waited.

After passing Green Turtle Cay and Manjack Cay, two islands we were really hoping to explore (next time…), the rest of the day was spent motoring for hours across the Little Bahama Bank, characterized by consistently shallow and gloriously clear waters. Despite being in a sailboat, we relished the lack of wind after sitting at anchor though so many blowy days and nights in the Abacos. I sat for a long time at the bow looking down into the water, scanning the bottom, but saw no fish, no conch, and nothing but the occasional piece of waterlogged wood sunk into the sand. We listened to a podcast or two. We read. We listened to music. We made a great dinner. We watched the last half of Kong and Godzilla: The New Empire (preposterous story, terrible dialogue, silly creatures, but somehow epic and awesome). The hours slid by gently, neither fast nor slow.

At 2am Ana woke me to take over, just as we had passed the Matanilla Shoal on the far north-west corner of the Little Bahamas Bank and were heading into the deep waters of the Gulf Stream. She somehow unknowingly kicked off the battery switch in the cabin and we had a brief but significant panic attack when we looked at the DC electrical panel and everything was dead, including our navigational lights. It did not take long to find the issue, but my accelerated heart rate endured for some time, not slowing much after taking the helm and realizing the boat had spun around and we were going in exactly the wrong direction, due to the auto pilot being depowered. I spun the boat in the complete blackness of the night, totally disoriented, but finally got it headed the right way then let the autopilot take over so I could focus on keeping watch for boats and settle in for the night ride.

Rock Out With Your Conch Out

Treasure Cay – A quarter mile, swinging around on anchor all day

The locals have been telling us that March is a terrible month for weather in Abaco. Funny, none of the guides we purchased or websites we researched in advance of the trip mentioned anything about that. We have spent half of our time in the Abacos dodging weather and it’s become quite annoying. We have really loved the towns here, and both Hope Town in Elbow Cay and Man-O-War Cay are the nicest we’ve seen, but generally Abaco has not been our favourite island chain. We were really hoping to get to explore the islands of Green Turtle Cay and Manjack Cay just north-west of here, but we’ve been unable to get decent enough weather to pass through the dangerous Whale Cay Passage. It looks like there may be a window Saturday morning to get through, and once we do we plan to continue the long run west across the Little Bahamas Bank, hang a right at the Gulf Stream, and sail northwards to Fernandina Beach in northern Florida. We estimate it will be about a 50-hour trip if all goes according to plan, and right now the weather looks promising. If things change, then we will sail to the town of West End on Grand Bahama and wait there for a weather window to shoot back to southern Florida then start working our way northwards. In either case, our adventures in the Bahamas are coming to an end…for now.

The wind blew like stink all day so we kept busy on the boat preparing for the long trip back to the US. I did some work on the engine - tightening, cleaning, adjusting, testing. Ana cleaned the boat and had a long chat with her parents. We spoke to both the kids. Then, at around 4:30, the wind finally dropped and I took the opportunity to smoke a big fat cigar while relaxing at the bow of the boat. I’d been carrying that thing around for days, waiting for an opportune time, but none had arrived until now. The outside temperature was 22 degrees, and I was comfortable in shorts and a tshirt as the sun was shining and the wind was warm. I didn’t think about much as I watched my feet rising and dropping with the boat, the outline of SV Waddington anchored off our bow, dipping down between my toes where I tried to grasp it, then squirming out with the next wave. The luxury of being on a sailboat in the Bahamas continued to dazzle and impress me, even after being here for nearly three months. I looked around at the ten other vessels in this anchorage and wondered if they felt the same way.

Our trusty companions from SV Waddington rowed over for sundowners, bringing a bag of Harvest Cheddar Sunchips to add to the bountiful snack plate Ana had assembled with veggies, cheese, salami, and crackers. Dinner is served!

We sat, we talked, we laughed. As the sun dropped into the horizon Ben and I whipped out our sizeable conchs and did a duet at the bow of SeaLight. However, the instruments were not exactly in tune and my ear picked up some distasteful reverberations, so I will have to seek out a professional conch tuner at the earliest opportunity. Still, the conch calls were loud and proud and all other sailors in the anchorage appeared on the bows of their boats wearing their best whites and sailor hats as the saluted the sun and enjoyed our sweet melodies. Ben then took it too far when he started playing Jingle Bells on the conch, which drove everybody back inside their boats with horrific images of snow and snow shovels.

I had gathered up all the Bahamian coins we had on board to give to Ben and Kate but had put aside four shiny ten-cent pieces for us to make wishes. Shortly before hugging each other and having yet another in a long series of hasta luegos, we each made a wish and tossed a coin into the water.

Ben wished that we would meet again, in the North Channel of Lake Huron, for a fresh water summer sailing adventure.

Kate wished for safe travels for us, and the many others we’d all met and traveled with during our time in the Bahamas.

I wished for continued good health for all of us, because without that, not much else matters.

Ana wished that the bonds we’d built with each other and the many other incredible people we had met throughout our travels and adventures in the Bahamas would never be broken.

By the time we went to bed the wind had completely dropped and the boat sat still in the water. We would need a good sleep before the long journey ahead.