The Chick-fil-A Experience in St. Augustine…and Visiting Hopes End

St. Augustine  –  10 kilometres walked, 2 miles by dinghy

This was to be our final day in St. Augustine as tomorrow we’d continue south. I’d grown to like this place more than I did on our first day, I think mainly because of those two incredible Flagler buildings we saw yesterday. And also because we spotted a young sea turtle at the dinghy dock.

 

Today I decided to make an appearance at Movie Club. This is group of movie buff colleagues at the City of Brantford I’ve been meeting with for about a year or so. Since leaving on my sabbatical I been in touch with just one person from work, so the City of Brantford has been very far from my mind. But not Movie Club. The ringleader Marta has been running it for years and every two weeks we meet to review a randomly chosen movie from this book called something like “1000 Movies to See Before You Croak”. This week the movie was The Jerk so I simply could not miss it, as I’ve been a huge Steve Martin fan since I was a little kid. So I surprised the gang with a virtual appearance, gave my review and rating (3 stars out of 5), then found three stray kitties in the backstreets of St. Augustine to practice my cat juggling. Just like riding a bike, it came back to me instantly. It was an excellent start to the day.

 

Today was Black Friday so Ana wanted to check out the deals at Target. It was an inspiring walk along US Highway #1 into Big Box Land. I sat on the old man bench outside of Target while Ana browsed, then we headed for a lunch place we’ve often heard about but never visited – Chick-fil-A which is a very odd name for a fast food joint. For the unitiated, it is pronounced “Chick – fill- eh” and enjoys great success in this nation of fast food junkies.

 

How was it? Well, it was okay. Not spectacular. Mainly because the fried chicken slab was served in what looked like a Mc Donald’s hamburger bun with two pickles. Nothing else. No lettuce, no tomato, no mayo, no nothing. I found a pack of mayo and mustard after hunting around the restaurant for a bit which helped. The root beer was excellent, though. But I think I was in the minority as the place was jammed inside and had a huge lineup at the drive-thru, and staff even out in the parking lot taking orders from people in trucks.

 

We spied an Aldi grocery store across the highway so went over there to buy a few bags of food, then happened across a West Marine during the walk back, luckily just as it had begun to rain. There, we picked up three dock lines for the price of two plus a boat spotlight. As usual, we looked like a couple of misplaced sherpas walking down the highway with bags slung all over the place, but we’re used to it.

 

After unloading our goodies we went over to visit John and Becca on sailing vessel Hopes End. As you may recall, these are the folks who have a boat identical to ours, just one year newer so we’ve been trading notes over the past months and were happy to have them on our boat a couple of nights before so they were anxious to have us over to show off their girl. It was awesome. Our one pre-dinner drink turned into a three-hour visit and they gave us a deep dive into their boat and its systems. It was very strange being on your boat when it’s not your boat. I made friends with their dog Luna right away and I could tell she really liked me because she’d goose my crotch with her nose every once in a while to get me to toss a ball which I did, obediently.

 

We said goodbye to our friends, but we’re sure to see them again in Bahamas as they plan to make their way there early in January. 

 

Our plan to head back into St. Augustine after dinner to see their Festival of Lights was thwarted when the temperature plummeted, the rain continued to fall, and our boat was cozy warm from the pizza we cooked in the oven so we bailed on ourselves and stayed in instead.

Thanksgiving in St. Augustine with Zoltar the Fortune Teller

St. Augustine  –  4 kilometres walked, 2 miles by dinghy

I forced myself to sleep until 8am and I woke up refreshed and ready. Last night John and Becca had reminded us that today was American Thanksgiving so most or nearly all the stores and restaurants in town would be closed today, providing a good opportunity to do some boat maintenance. I changed the engine oil, oil filters, transmission oil, and both the fuel filters while Ana worked on cleaning and fixing up some door handles that weren’t working quite right.

 

With a bag of used filters, a container of spent oil and diesel, and all of our trash, we dinghy'd into the town marina, paid $13 to rent a dock space, and were able to unload it all there, then walked into town, but this time from the other side. What a difference! We immediately came upon the Hotel Alcazar, a magnificent Spanish Renaissance Revival building and, since it was closed, could only peek in through the iron gates to see the lavish courtyard. Across from here was the Ponce de Leon hotel (now a classy liberal arts college) and both of these were built by an insanely wealthy 1800’s industrialist named Henry Flagler. The gardens and rotunda of the college were open to the public so we gawked in astonishment at the incredible terra cotta finishings, marbled floors, elaborately carved wooden pillars – the whole complex was incredible. And it was not packed with tourists. My opinion of St. Augustine has just rocketed up.

 

Ana and I wandered around the historic district for a while and it was easier to admire the many and varied buildings with fewer people around. Many of the buildings had standardized and elegant plaques describing the origin of the structure, architectural highlights, and history of the use of it. I stopped to read many of these. We also dipped into a couple of the arcades which disappeared into the guts of building complexes and these had the predictable shops, but also those cheesy carnival machines – Zoltar the Fortune Teller, Merlin the Mystic, the Love Tester, all of which are now found only in Florida and horror movies.

 

Though there was not much open, we did find a cute Cuban café tucked away off a side street and sat down to enjoy a coffee for Ana and a cold Presidente beer and ham croquette for myself. Every other patron there was Cuban and we enjoyed listening to their sometimes indecipherable rapid-fire Spanish.

 

We cruised back to the boat, had a change of clothes, then dinghy’d over to the nearby Lagoon 42 catamaran, owned by Peter, a German fellow we had met yesterday when he came over to borrow an oil filter wrench, and had invited us for a drink. He and his family were at the end of a year-long sabbatical. His wife and daughter had recently returned to Germany, leaving Peter and his son there, but only Peter was on the boat when we arrived. He invited us aboard and we had a lovely conversation in the luxurious cockpit as we enjoyed a drink, some fresh pineapple we had brought over, and watched the sun slowly sink into the horizon.

 

Back at the boat, we made a lovely Thanksgiving dinner of tuna steaks, green beans, grilled potatoes and salad then watched a bit of tv before calling it a night. Tomorrow would be our final day in this interesting city then we planned to continue our journey south.

We Made it to Florida: Welcome to St. Augustine

St. Augustine, Florida  –  9 kilometres walked, 4 miles by dinghy

Florida. The southernmost state we would visit on this trip, and one which we know far better than the states we have passed through so far, as we’ve visited here many times by car and airplane. And with a high of 25 degrees Centigrade today, it felt like we had reached the sun.

 

We didn’t leave the boat until shortly after noon as we had a few things to do, including a nice cockpit nap to recover from the overnight run. We took the dinghy into a free dock a couple of miles away from downtown, at the Velano Beach Pier, then walked down a highway and into the outskirts of the city. We turned down San Marco Avenue and headed toward the historical downtown of St. Augustine. It did not take long to realize we were already solidly in Florida. We looked in amazement as we passed a string of naff tourist attractions – Old St John’s County Jail, Old Town Trolley Tours, the Fountain of Youth Archeological Park, a scooter/go-cart/golf cart rental place, the Ghosts and Gravestones Tour, and the ultimate: Ripley’s Believe It Or Not. Railroad replica trolleys passed us continuously, each packed with tourists, listening intently as the driver ran through their script of interesting historical facts, little “did you know’s”, and scripted jokes, delivered with practiced fervour, at precisely the right moment. A series of low budget hotels also ran along San Marco, along with the requisite Liquor Stores, restaurants to suit all tastes, ice cream shops, an antique market and, of course, a religious institution – this one a huge shrine, called Our Lady of La Leche, which means “milk” in Spanish. The image of a nun with huge knockers appeared on the canvas of my mind and I simply could not shake it. Surprisingly, I did not see a Bail Bond place along the street, but I’m sure there were a few tucked away in the backstreets.

 

By the time we reached the town centre I felt like I’d been smacked with a rubber chicken by Zoltar the Fortune Teller as he whizzed by on hoverboard. When other boaters had told us we’d love St. Augustine, they either didn’t know us very well, or perhaps had entered from a different side of town. I decided to wait a while before passing judgement.

 

The main town center was packed with tourists and we joined the throng in walking down St. George Street. Despite the ancient and architecturally interesting series of buildings, I couldn’t help but think it was all fake, built as a Disney ride, or a movie set. We passed at least ten ice cream shops, a couple of pretzel places, a beef jerkery, waffle shop, mystic crystals, candy and chocolate shops, Stogie’s cigar bar, and a whole bunch of restaurants and taverns, most with live music. It felt like a circus and try as I might to appreciate the buildings, I simply couldn’t focus on anything other than the thousands of people, mostly all licking waffle cones. I wasn’t used to being around this many people. Plus, we were both starting to get a little hangry and that never helps the situation.

Fortunately, we found a quiet and shaded table at the Backyard Island Café at Meehan’s Irish Pub and sat down to collect our thoughts. My mood improved dramatically after a pint of Yuengling and a Reuban with fries. We were happy to be in Florida; we just didn’t expect it to get this Florida this fast. It was a jarring transition.

 

After exploring a few shops and poking around for a while, we walked back from whence we came and were soon basking in the lovely solitude of SeaLight at anchor and slowly recovered from freebasing Florida directly into our veins. As darkness fell, various lighted booze cruise vessels began appearing, touring the harbour, some with live bands, others pumping electronica. People were partying hard. And not just on the water. All the buildings on the St. Augustine waterfront were brilliantly alit, a festival of lights, and we could hear bands playing, people shouting, and major frivolities underway. What is this place??

 

Around 7pm, John and Becca from the sailing vessel Hopes End, with whom we’d met briefly in Charleston, came by for drinks and a lovely cockpit snack tray Ana curated. They have the same boat as us, except one year newer, and we toured them extensively around into the nooks and crannies as they explored this alternate universe. We talked and talked for hours and it somehow became 1am and I was, incredibly, still awake, but we’d been having such a great time that the hours passed by rapidly.

St. Augustine, let’s see what you have in store for us tomorrow.

Sailboats Are Powerboats...and Skipping Georgia

Hilton Head to St. Augustine, Florida  – 146 nautical miles sailed

The next US state along the ICW is Georgia, but we decided to skip it and instead do the 26-hour offshore ocean run for two reasons. First, the Georgian portion of the ICW is shallow, very winding, long, and there’s very little to see besides marshy swamp grass – not much for towns or cities, besides Savannah which we will visit on the return trip. So you end up staying in very quiet and secluded anchorages and have to carefully time your passages through the shallow parts with favourable tides, which further lengthens the journey. Second, the government of Georgia has passed some decidedly anti-boater legislation which severely restricts anchoring. I understand the motivation was to cut down on the number of derelict or abandoned vessels clogging up their waterways, but transient cruisers got caught in the crossfire and have been made to feel unwelcome.

 

We were out of the marina by 8am and had an uneventful passage. As usual, the winds were directly in our face so we used only motor power until 4am when the winds finally shifted enough from south to west to deploy the headsail. It was another bumpy ride.

 

I want to let you in on a dirty little secret. Cruising sailboats like ours don’t sail much. They really don’t. Especially on this southward migration to the Caribbean. Until this point, we have traveled under motor power all except for a few hours when we were able to get both sails out and cut the engine. I think we did this once on the Hudson and once during our last daytime ocean passage.

 

Why is this? First, the twists and turns and currents of the ICW (not to mention the occasional lock) make it thoroughly impractical, and for all but maybe the purest die-hards, impossible to sail. But even on the ocean it’s not a given. That goddamn wind always seems to be in your face and it is a rare and magical pleasure when you get perfect sailing conditions. For example, during our two week-long sailing trip on Lake Ontario last year where we covered something like 500 miles, we did a grand total of about three hours of sailing due to either no wind or the wind blowing directly at us. Now, if we had the luxury of endless time, then we could wait for the right conditions, or tack back and forth to beat a path into the wind, but that’s not the way we operate, and when you are trying to cover well over two thousand miles to get to the Bahamas, you can’t be dilly-dallying around waiting for a nice wind. You have to keep moving, and you do this under engine power.

 

So when our buddy Ben told us that when you scratch the surface of a cruising sailor, you’ll find a trawler captain beneath, he is absolutely right. Because us sailors are already powerboaters. Simple as that. And there’s nothing wrong with it.

 

Crossing oceans is a different story as those passages can only be done under sail, so sailors choose their routes and timing carefully to coincide with historically favourable winds. And you need plenty of time to do these trips in case the wind does not cooperate. Sailboat racing is yet another different thing as engines are not allowed so you need to use what wind is there to make your way around the circuit, hopefully faster than your competitors. This is where you learn how to tack and jibe efficiently and quickly, choose the right sails, trim the sails, adjust your mast rake, and squeeze every bit of speed you can out of your boat and the available wind. This is how you become a great sailor. This, Ana and I have never done, so we are not great sailors. But we do use our boat more than many others and see it as a fun and efficient means to travel to new places. That’s why we sail. That’s why we’re here.

A Birthday in Hilton Head

Hilton Head, South Carolina  – 33 kilometres biked

We wanted to make the most of today as it was Ana’s birthday and we were splurging on the Sheltered Cove Marina and Resort to celebrate. We pulled anchor at 7:30 and motored up Broad Creek on a plunging tide. When Ana spoke to the dockmaster at Sheltered Cove yesterday he said it was better to come in on a rising tide, but that wasn’t going to happen until early afternoon so we took our chances. Well, the approach to the harbour entrance was looking very mucky and shallow and sure enough my depth sounder dropped to zero indicating we were dragging the keel through mud. But with a bit of engine throttle and lip biting we dredged a path, floated into the marina, and were helped in by the dockmaster at the first dock, perfectly located. He immediately handed us a welcome package with door codes, maps, wifi passwords, tour brochures, tide tables, and other resort information. This was a professional operation.

 

Sheltered Cove is a resort marina with the boat slips being just one part of it; they also had hundreds of rooms, several restaurants, an activities desk where they lined up tours for guests and, most importantly, free laundry and free bikes! After getting checked in by the incredible staff, they hooked us up with two bad ass bicycles, which reminded me of the band Morphine. The singer and bass player Mark Sandman once said having more than one string on his bass felt indulgent and unnecessary as that one string had all the notes he could ever need. Like his bass, these bikes had exactly what they needed – a single gear and old school brakes applied with a simple backpedal. Nothing indulgent, just the basics. We loved them.

 

We biked through the marina, along a short estuary, then onto the bike paths system which Hilton Head is known for. Everything was neat and tidy – clean streets and pathways, manicured gardens, Spanish Moss hung artfully from the trees, not sloppily, and little signs providing tidbits of information, such as the 37 snake species found on the island, and the simple rule that cars always have right away so please stop at all intersections and wait for them. You might not like cars having precedence over walkers and bikers, but it sure makes for a simple rule.

We biked fully across the width of the island and onto the hard-packed sand beach, then kept right on biking oceanside. It was glorious. I have never biked on a beach before but I can tell you it is exhilarating. It’s even better than riding the beach on a white horse and wearing Old Spice deodorant. We were having so much fun I video’d in our friend Dave from Brantford so he could join in virtually.

 

It was time for a coffee break so we biked back to The General Store which seemed to be the central hub for coffee, snacks, take-away food, groceries, and I’m sure they sold pickleball paddles there too as the store was situated directly across from a pickleball megalopolis, with at least a dozen pickleball courts, and a few tennis courts too for the pre-pickleballers. Ana and I watched them all getting on their morning pickle tickle as we enjoyed our coffees, the radiant temperature, and the smell of the breakfast sandwich the guy next to us was eating, oozing with melted American cheese, igniting hunger I thought I had extinguished with my morning toast and cereal.

 

Since we had the bikes, and wanted to see the island, we made the bold decision to do the half island loop, which didn’t sound too bad is it was only half of the regular loop and really didn’t look that far on the colourful island map we had brought along from our marina welcome package. Well, it was far. Our previous record for long distance endurance bike riding was about a kilometer, which is a round trip to the Pioneer gas station by our house to pick up milk when we run out. The ride itself was lovely and we passed by many beautiful sights, including an alligator swimming lazily across one of the fresh water creeks. When we reached the bridge, however, Ana lost her mind. We had to bike up the same bridge we had squaked SeaLight beneath, just hours previous, and it was a roaring raceway of fast moving traffic with a little strip along the side for suicidal bikers. Now if you’re a David Lenger (this is what I call those guys wearing spandex tights, mushroom caps, and fancy sunglasses who ride bikes worth more than a Hyundai Santa Fe and go out for leisurely rides of 200 kilometers in 25 mph winds, passing vehicular traffic along the way and laughing like maniacs) this would not have been a problem, but for us sailors with stringy, atrophied leg muscles, it would require a Herculean effort. Ana could picture nothing other than buttock bruising, inner thigh lesions, and being heart-paddled by an EMR while lying flat on the bridgeway with hungry Carolina vultures circling overhead.

I tried to encourage Ana, saying things like “Think of the feeling of accomplishment you’ll have at the end of it” and “Sure is a nice day for a bike ride” and “At least it’s not hilly” (that was before the bridge), but none of it really helped much and for a while there I think she was feeling like her birthday was ruined. But shortly after we successfully crossed the bridge, she spotted a consignment store and veered off the road, leaped off the bike, letting it skid into the gravel and crash, and raced into the store. While Ana got her retail therapy, I spoke to the lady working the store and found out she had recently paid over two hundred grand to buy a driveway in Hilton Head on which to park her live-aboard RV. Island life here don’t come cheap.

 

Ana’s demeanor had markedly improved and was back up to over 100 percent after she spotted a Thai restaurant and we went in for a nice lunch. She then had the biggest surprise of the day when our Italian exchange student Dom (known as our “Third Child”) called her on video along with his mom and grandma from Naples. We had a lovely chat and after that it was all smiles and giggles for the rest of the day. Her birthday was saved!

 

We completed the bike loop then went a bit further to the TJ Maxx store. Ana went shopping and I pulled up a stool at the nearby Hilton Head Tavern and lost myself in a pint of their finest local IPA and the Ayn Rand Reader I had picked up at the consignment store for two bucks. In the past I’d tried to read one of her novels – Atlas Shrugged – and didn’t get too far, but I really enjoyed this collection and didn’t even look up or register my surroundings until I felt Ana tapping my shoulder an hour or two later.

To cap off the bike journey, we went grocery shopping at Kroeger.  At the checkout I asked the lady if she thought we could fit all our purchased in our single bike basket. She looked at me like I was insane.

 

“OK, well in that case do you have a small rope?” I asked her.

 

“A rope?” she said.

 

“Yeah, a rope. Looks like I’m going to have to tow the cart behind the bike.”

 

“I don’t think you’re allowed to do that.”

 

Between the  bike basket, my backpack, bags dangling from our four arms, and a case of 24 Yuengling balanced on my head like the most talented tribal water gatherer, we biked it all back to the marina without losing even a single grape, and soon it was all packed away in SeaLight and we were eating fried chicken, potato salad, and fresh bread, washed down with a fine Rose for the birthday girl and Cardboardeaux for me as our three loads of laundry spun away in the free machines. Stella and Magnus gave their mom a video call before bed to wish her a happy birthday, which nicely capped off the day.

Ana confirmed it had been an excellent birthday.

Beaufort, Then Onto Hilton Head

Beaufort to Hilton Head  – 27 nautical miles sailed, 3 bridges, 4 kilometres walked

We awoke to a bright and sunny day with highs of 22 degrees forecast and a new city to explore. As it was Sunday we didn’t expect there to be much open so after cruising over to the expansive and very new-looking town dock, we walked the harbourfront. It is a beautiful spot with manicured gardens, a kids playground, gorgeous concrete walkway with dozens of swinging benches facing the waterfront, and rows of tropical trees. When the park ended we continued along a street past a large marshy area near the anchorage, admiring the hundreds of year old houses, adjoining canopies of tree growth, and noticed several sailboats that had been washed up on shore and abandoned, likely after the last hurricane that passed through. We wandered through a residential area then worked our way back towards downtown, where we noticed most of the shops opened at noon, so we went back to a waterfront café we had passed earlier and had a long, slow coffee and shared a blueberry cheese Danish as we looked over the ocean and listened to the conversations around us.

 

There was a family beside us – Mom, Dad, Grandma, Grandpa, and the cutest little red-haired girl bouncing around amongst them, maybe 3 years old. Grandma asked, “How did you sleep last night sweetie?”

“Good, Grandma,” the little girl replied.

 

“What did you dream about?”

 

“Cake!”

 

“You dreamt about cake?” asked Grandpa.

 

“Yep. All night.”

 

“Well so did I!”

 

With that, the little girl took off towards the grassy waterfront where a massive Christmas tree had been installed. Ana and I laughed as we watched her go. Little kids never really run or walk; instead they lurch from side to side, from one foot to the other, sometimes falling down, sometimes leaping in the air, as if they’re getting hit repeatedly with electrical shocks. Grandma chased after her then stood back as she ran laps around the tree, stopping once in a while to try and yank off the oversized and colourful decoration balls.

 

We did a tour of the main downtown strip  but Ana wasn’t too excited about the shops, as most of them were tourist places, selling Beaufort-themed knick-knackery, beef jerky, real estate, gourmet jellies, or outrageously priced clothing. We did see a car with a fancy band-aid covering up a boo-boo. Along the way we had made a new plan for the rest of the day. As tomorrow was Ana’s birthday, we decided to continue onto Hilton Head today then stay in a marina so we could have a full day exploring the island and not have to worry about where to stash the dinghy or the anchor letting loose. We hadn’t stayed in any marinas since Oswego and Castleton where we had to in order to remove then replace the mast, so we have been very successful with just anchoring and the occasional mooring ball.

 

We left at 12:30 and arrived around 5pm after a non-eventful ride, although we did see the mast and shredded remains of a sail from a sunken sailboat, dozens of pelicans, plus several pods of dolphins, which seem to be plentiful in this area.

 

We anchored SeaLight in Broad Creek, not far from the Shelter Cove marina that we had booked for tomorrow. There was still a bit of sunlight left for a sundowner so we sat in the cockpit for a long time enjoying the views, particularly the sun-stained fiery red and yellow contrails left by the dozens of airplanes we counted passing overhead and on the horizon.

Tomorrow was going to be a big day.

All I Want Is My Wife and My Boat

Charleston to Beaufort, South Carolina – 60 nautical miles sailed, 4 bridges

We were up and at the fuel dock shortly after their opening time of 7am. The lad working the dock struck up a conversation with Ana, and after learning we were from Canada he reached into his walled and pulled out a Toronto Maple Leafs fan club card.

 

“You’re a sucker for punishment,” I told him.

 

“I’ve always cheered for the underdogs,” he replied.

 

Well, he found the right team.

 

The cruise from Charleston to Beaufort was lovely – very scenic, lots of twists and turns, many birds, and the tides times worked out perfectly giving us a current boost in the cuts, low water for the 65’ bridges, and high water over the low spots like the Ashepoo Coosaw Cutoff and Watts Cut. To help dull the after effects of last night’s excesses, Ana made me the most incredible breakfast sandwich – two fried eggs, aged cheddar, three medallions of that fabulous American pork in a tube, a dozen pumps of hot sauce, all bound together between two pieces of toasted wheat bread. It may have been the most delicious thing I have ever eaten.

 

The non-food highlight of the day was when Ana spotted some commotion ahead in the water as we were passing through the Coosaw River. We cut the throttle and coasted in to find ten dolphins playing in the water and they came right up to the boat, so close that we could see their blowholes opening and the gleam from their leathery textured skin. They swam around the boat for quite a long time and we stood on the deck, mesmerized with these beautiful creatures.

 

We arrived in Beaufort (and yes, you’re probably wondering why there’s a Beaufort in both North and South Carolina. I have no idea, but I do know the one in NC is pronounced Bow-furt and the one in SC is Behw-furt) and stuck in the anchor on the second attempt. By then it was sunset so we sat in the cockpit, gave our friends Ben and Kate a call, and chatted until it was dark, retired to the cabin, made a delicious shrimp stir fry, then watched a show. I didn’t quite make it to Mariner’s Midnight (which is a 9pm bedtime…Adrian told us about this one!) and that’s okay with me.

 

Both Ana and really enjoyed our conversation with Adrian last night, particularly the lucid parts before all the tequila. He and his wife Sara had done a similar trip to ours when their kids were very young, taking a small Bayfield sailboat all the way from Lake Huron to the Florida Keys and back again. Their motivation back then was taking a life break and doing an adventure. Our plan is the same, but with one difference – no kids. At least not for most of it.

 

I would have loved to have both our kids join us for this trip, like we’ve done so many times before sailing through Lake Erie, Lake Huron, and the North Channel. But it wasn’t possible for them and it would have made it a different experience for us. For me, right now, all I want is my wife and my boat. Just the two of us, making decisions, learning, seeing new things every day, working through the difficulties of navigating, sailing, and anchoring, and being completely and totally independent from the world. I love spending time with Ana. And throughout our child rearing years, there were many times when I wasn’t getting enough time with her and it caused problems. Young kids take everything you’ve got, then a little bit more. And I will admit there were some moments when I wished I could go back to just her and me. But I always knew that time would come again, and here it is. A time I’ve been dreaming about for a long time. And yes, it’s been just as good as I was hoping.

 

In just over a month we are going to have both the kids with us on the boat, in south Florida, and it is going to be so much fun. Ana is headed home for Christmas and will return with them on Dec 26 (as well as Stella’s lovely friend Anna). Magnus will be with us for about a week then is flying to the UK to take a semester of schooling in Edinburgh. Stella and Anna will join us for the trip across to Bahamas with Anna staying for 3 weeks and Stella hopefully longer. I am really, really excited for this part of the trip. It is going to be louder, crazier, goofier, and much harder on the battery, propane, and water levels with all the showers, long hair, blow dryers, power-hungry phones, dishes, and fabulous meals we’re going to cook on the boat for everybody.

But, when everybody is gone, it will be back to a team of two as we take on the return trip and revisit some of the spots we loved, explore some areas we skipped, and probably do some longer ocean passages. Then eventually we will get home and regular life will resume.

 

Until then, all I want is my wife and my boat.

Talking Testicular Testosterone Treatment Tippling Tequila

Charleston, South Carolina - 5 kilometres walked

The wind was blowing so hard today that the kicked up ocean made it too risky to take the dinghy into town. So we had a boat day. Ana worked on a bunch of yacht club stuff, I did a big reconciliation of our financials and we horsed around on a few other things. Ana gave me a haircut, first of the trip. By 4pm the wind finally started to slacken so we jumped in the dinghy, zipped across the bay to the marina where Adrian had his boat, and from there we walked into town. Our plan was to leave tomorrow so we really wanted to hang out with him one more time.

 

We hadn’t seen much nightlife on this trip so we took the opportunity to whoop it up. We went to Henry's On The Market, which was coming up on its hundred year anniversary. It is one cool joint. Multi-levels, hidden rooms, smashing clientele, classy bartenders, and fancy drinks. Adrian and I started with a beer and a tequila shot while Ana took a latte. At 6:30 we left to check out the night market, but on the way out Ana was devastated to find she had lost one of her lovely gold earrings. She had us wait there while she retraced her steps. She returned, distraught and disappointed. As we were brainstorming ideas, she said, “Hold on,” and went into the washroom. Two minutes later she returned, beaming a hug smile, wearing two earrings.

“Where’d you find it?” Adrian asked.

 

“It was caught in my cleavage,” Ana said.

 

“Wow,” I mused. “Fun to play with and functional!”

 

The night market was small and had nothing of interest for the menfolk so Ana sent us straight back to the bar, then joined us later. We went to the Whiskey Bar room, dark and mysterious, with mustachioed and tattooed bartenders, oil paintings of Hendrix, Marilyn, Bill Murray, Coltrane, an ancient fireplace, a tapestry, classic chairs and couches. Adrian ordered us a round of Old Fashioned. Then another round. Then tequila shots. Then tequila cocktails. Than more Tequila shots. Then a beer to polish us off. As we drank and chatted, more people arrived and soon it was full and we had made friends. The conversation turned to testicular testosterone treatments as it sometimes does, and all the 40 and 50 year old dudes in the bar (which was just Adrian and me) compared notes on mid-life libido levels, frequency of morning wood, hair growth and loss, body mass index ratios, and the requirement for testosterone supplementation in the form of a cream that is applied to the testicles daily. It was very scientific, but in the end we decided tequila was going to be just as effective at making us more manly, and funnier too.

Ana gave us the nod at 10:30 as we were fully polluted. She could see that our internal gyroscopes had been thrown off by all that tequila so getting back to the marina by foot power was going to be a challenge. She found us an Uber and we cruised in comfort back to Adrian’s marina and I believe I remained awake the entire ride.

 

Ana captained us back to SeaLight on the dinghy, but she doesn’t like going fast so it was a rather long and rather cold ride, but still a real hoot. Ana poured me into bed and that was it for the day. But I’m happy we finished up our time in this fine city with a roar!

 

Charleston, we are gonna miss you.

How to Track SeaLight. And More Charleston.

Charleston, South Carolina - 12 kilometres walked

Most cruisers are using a mobile app called Noforeignland. The folks from sailing vessel Hope’s End we met up with the other day – John and Becca – told us about the app before we started our trip. We only really started using it after the Hudson, but it’s turned out to be an extremely effective tool for us. The app is quite straightforward. You set up your boat name and details, write a short paragraph about who you are and your sailing mission, then you can either have the app automatically track your movements, or you can manually check in at each new location, which is what we have been doing. The content in the app is all user generated so when we are heading to a new location we can see a lot of current detail that is simply not available anywhere else – where is the dinghy dock, is there a garbage there, where is the closest laundry and grocery store, which anchorages are good, and so on. We are also able to follow other boats we meet along the way and the app lets us know when their location has changed and how many miles they are away from us. The other thing I’ve recently started doing is initiating chats with boats that are already anchored at a place we are thinking of going to and asking how the anchorage is and how they like the location. In fact, one of the boats I did that with here in Charleston invited us over for drinks and we had a great time with them – Nathalie and Philippe from Montreal. This is yet another example of how technology has really changed the game and vastly improved the information availability and ease of meeting other boaters.

 

If anybody would like to see where we are and watch our progress just install the Noforeignland app, search for “SeaLight” and then follow us. You can also just use the website too if that's easier or you might even be able to click this link to go directly to our boat. The app looks like a total mess when you first log in, but once you search for a boat or drill into a particular area, it cuts down the clutter. Give it a try, it's pretty cool and will give you some insight into just how many cruisers are out here chasing the sun.

 

Back to Charleston. Today we walked the Battery, which is a long walkway that extends all the way around the southern edge of Charleston and passes by dozens of classy antebellum (like that fancy word? It means “pre-war” – I learned it here) houses. This neighbourhood oozes refinement, character, and great wealth, some of these old money riches undoubtedly earned on the backs of the African slaves bought and sold here. We left the Battery and wandered through some of the small ancient streets, on slate sidewalks, finding even more decadent houses, one which looked like a slightly smaller version of the White House and had two fake looking, but real grapefruit trees hung heavy with fruit. We’ve also noticed many houses have what look like gas-powered fire lanterns on their porches, stoops, balconies – really everywhere, and I managed to get close enough to one to see the thin, copper gas line running to it, which was rather surprising to me as that sort of thing would be deemed a major fire hazard in Canada and immediately outlawed, despite the old world class it radiates.

 

Our walk lasted a long time, long enough to build up hunger pangs and when I suggested to Ana we return to the French restaurant for lunch again today, she didn’t hesitate one second. From here we visited the historical society’s museum and learned more about the dreadful yet fascinating history of this city, then stopped in at our new favourite American coffee shop – Bitty & Beau’s, which we were thrilled to discover had a location here. Ana is so supportive of this place that she bought a seven dollar chunk of Rice Krispie cake to go along with our coffee. It was delicious and provided a week’s worth of sugar ration for each of us.

 

I remained there doing some route planning and gnawing on the cake while Ana left to shop King Street. She was doing some sort of interactive show and tell thing with Stella from the stores, as she wanted to get in on the shopping too, but she’s super cheap just like Ana so I think they just drove each other crazy instead of having a fulfilling hybrid shopping experience.

We walked back through town and along the way our dinner plans got thwarted. Adrian was going to come for dinner on our boat but his toilet had exploded so he was elbow deep in the poo poo and asked if we could postpone. Instead we found the sailing vessel Fulub and had a drink with Philippe and Nathalie in the super cozy cabin of their 1995 Dufour 39’. They seem to be on a similar schedule to us so I expect we will see them again real soon.

Exploring Charleston

Charleston, South Carolina - 12 kilometres walked

Our first full day in Charleston. We both had high hopes for this city and were not disappointed. After finding a space on the dinghy dock we started walking east along a residential street. The ground was wet and looked to have been recently flooded, which we learned is a regular occurrence here in this low-lying city. The combination of rain, wind and King tides (which are the exceptionally large tidal differences that happen when the sun, moon, and Earth are aligned) can jack the tides by several feet, creating coastal flooding. The remnants of flooding didn’t last long and soon we were walking through an area with beautiful houses, many converted to student housing as several buildings of the College of Charleson were also in this area. We were struck by the vegetation and how different it was from towns just a hundred miles further north. It was also a perfect day for walking – overcast, humid, and pleasantly warm.

 

We soon reached King Street and I was surprised to find the Southern US version of the Champs-Elysees. Ana’s eyes lit up when she saw the Louis Vuitton store and kept firing as we passed many more high-end fashion shops with a mix of other less stratospheric shops to balance things out. Although Ana rarely buys anything at these shops (luxury brands don’t do “deals”), she sure likes looking. While she’s doing that I just stand on the street and watch the people going by. Folks here were quite well dressed, but not overly so, and the quantity of tourists didn’t overwhelm the streets at all. The presence of students jogging, business folks walking to meetings, shopkeepers putting up Christmas decorations, and residents walking their dogs gave it a feeling of a very functional city and not just a tourist attraction. And yes, there were plenty of beautiful people there too, and judging by what some of the students were wearing and eating, we suspected they were endowed with healthy trust funds.

 

Around noon we found a cute little French restaurant called Gaulart & Maliclet and enjoyed a slow and spectacular lunch – open faced ham and cheese baguette melt with cucumber gazpacho, fresh fruit, and a glass of house red. I took a photo of Ana, as this particular moment for me felt very unlike anything we’ve experienced yet on this trip. Everything was perfect – a horse drawn carriage passing down the street, the spires of a white tower in the background, the shade from an umbrella casting a slight shadow on the ground, ideal temperature, delicious food, and – it must be said – not being at work on a Wednesday. We ate slow, talked slow, moved slow, and relished the moment.

 

After this we walked. We walked a forested garden pathway. We browsed a huge central knick knack market in the Latin Quarter with vendors selling elaborately weaved baskets, stainless-steel jewelry, custom candy, postcards, masquerade ball masks with horns and fangs. We walked the expansive jetty at the east end of the island, looking over the marshes with cranes stabbing at little fish. We passed the historical site Ryan’s Mart – a slave trading complex –  and read the placard telling its awful history. We peeked through locked iron gates at old money mansions, driveways lined with luxury vehicles. By the time we returned to the marina, our brains were sizzling pleasantly with sensory overload, attempting to process all we’d seen, smelled, felt, and heard. The last stop before returning to the boat was to find Hope’s End – a boat nearly identical to ours, the owners of which I’d connected with online and we’d been in communication for weeks as we both worked our way southward. We did find them and had a short chat with John and Becca, who are lovely folks and we hope to meet them and compare boat notes in the next couple of days.

 

Our original plan to meet with Adrian and Sara during the day hadn’t worked out, but they invited us to dinner at the Marina Variety Store Restaurant. We met them at 6 and had an amazing time over a fantastic seafood dinner, drinks, and even a tequila shot to wrap things up! After dinner we all dinghy’d over to their boat (a beautiful SeaRay 420 they recently purchased) for a nightcap and continue our conversation. Sadly, Sara was leaving the next day, but Adrian was staying around for a few days so we would definitely be hanging out more.

By the time we returned to SeaLight the wind had kicked up, and before long it was howling a scary gale, swinging the boat from side to side, whistling through the rigging. I fell asleep effortlessly but Ana stayed awake for a long time, terrified the anchor was going to rip out and the boat would be blown into the shallows. But the anchor held fast.