The Argentinian Steak Situation

Southport to Wrightsville Beach, North Carolina – 24 nautical miles sailed

We coasted into the only anchorage in Southport around 11 am and had a very hard time getting the anchor to stick. Besides that, the anchorage was crammed in between the channel and a series of private docks, giving us little swinging room and leaving us very exposed to the wind. Though we did want to see Southport (primarily because this is where "Weekend at Bernie’s" was filmed), there were really no other anchoring options so we decided to carry on to Wrightsville Beach, 24 miles to the north, where we’d anchored briefly on the initial trip and liked, but didn’t have the time to explore the town.

So, it was four more hours on SeaLight navigating the skinny channels of the Masonborough Sound and endless Saturday traffic of power boats, ripping at us from every direction, as fast as their boats could go, throwing wake at our hull and ocean spray into the open hatches. There were some very scenic parts of the trip but we were happy to finally drop anchor mid-afternoon, and had a front row seat for a large sailing regatta happening in the bay in front of Wrightsville Beach. Though initially inspired to take the dinghy to town and go exploring, once we were settled cockpit naps ensued, which sapped all motivation to move and instead we spent the remainder of the day and evening reading, talking, and catching up on sleep.

As we sat in the cockpit watching the small sailing boats racing, Ana and I discussed the Argentinean Steak Situation. Oh, you’ve never heard of this? Let me explain.

Back in the early 2000’s, Ana and I did a round-the-world backpacking trip as a sort of extended honeymoon. Our route was Toronto – England – South Africa – Australia – New Zealand – Chile – Peru – Bolivia – Argentina – Brazil with a whole lot of overland travel within these countries. In Chile we met another traveling couple – Fraser and Rebecca – and hit it off with them so well that we traveled together for many weeks. We ended up renting a cozy cabin on a lake near Bariloche, Argentina, and this was during one of the country’s frequent economic meltdowns so their currency had plunged to a level where things were extremely cheap.

We found a classic Argentinean steakhouse in the town centre and returned at least three or four times. There, we dined like royal gauchos. The beef tenderloin came with not one, not two but three thick and juicy steaks, cooked perfectly on a wood-fired grill seasoned only with salt and pepper. There were other beef dishes, all phenomenal - Bife de Lomo, Bife de Chorizo, Ojo de Bife, and the only sides they served were French fries, bread, and pints of lager. The meat was always cooked to perfection and the taste, texture, and colour was unlike anything I’d ever experienced in my life. If I close my eyes I can remember slicing into that tenderloin with a blunt butter knife, which was all that was required for its delicate tenderness, and seeing that rosy pink interior hidden by the blackened salty crust, but now exposed. As I lift a piece to my mouth I close my remembering eyes and focus on the warm juice that runs over my teeth and tongue as I bite down once, then suck more juice out of it like a hungry, but patient vampire. I chew it a few times, feeling that salty crunch between my molars, then swallow it down as I open my remembering eyes, take a sip of cold beer, then line up my utensils for the next slice. Those meals were like a religious ceremony, but with the pomp and chanting replaced by easy conversation and laughing with friends who are enjoying their experience just as much as us. These meals made every other steak I’d ever eaten a pale imitation and sad joke of what a real steak should taste like. It was an incredible, unexpected, and life changing experience. The kicker was I remember the meals costing us less than ten bucks a person.

So what’s the problem, you ask? Well, the problem is that these meals made it impossible for me to truly enjoy a steak ever again, because no steak will ever be that good. No steak could ever be that good. The ideal of the perfect steak has been so thoroughly cemented in my mind, strengthen by the passage of time, that even if that restaurant in Bariloche still exists, and even if we were to go there and order the same meals, it would not be as good. It could never live up to my expectation. I have eaten the perfect steak and it is impossible to ever do so again.

As goes this trip. I have experienced so many moments of pure bliss that have already been stamped permanently upon my memory. Sitting with Ana on the deck of SeaLight, watching starfish pass beneath us as the boat dips and coasts on autopilot through impossibly blue and shallow water. Watching, deliriously happy, as a family of manatees passes below my paddleboard, so close I can see the whiskers on their faces and the scars on their backs. Being mesmerized by a sleek reef shark as I snorkel in water so clear it seems like there is no water there at all. The moments of joy as we sit with old and new friends around a crackling fire on a deserted, perfect beach. Snorkeling the remains of a massive freighter with giant puffer fish, frowning grouper, sleek jacks, and every colour of reef fish mingling below. Sitting with Ana on Eleutheran and Exumian beaches, digging our feet into the pink icing sugar sand, inhaling the salty sea breeze as we wonder where all the people are. Laughing with old friends at the Nassau Fish Fry amongst the smells of frying grouper, conch lime, and the perfumed youngsters passing by. Watching through my mask as a sea turtle swims by so close I could reach out and touch its shell. Locking my gaze with the curious eye stems of a conch as it pulls itself across the seagrass bottom. Enjoying a drink with friends in SeaLight’s cockpit as the blanket of darkness falls, revealing a million stars. Experiencing the thrill of spearing my first spiny lobster, then seconds later spearing a lionfish. Holding hands with my daughter underwater as we snorkel a magnificent reef and she sees a barracuda for the first time. Having a cigar with my son as we sit on the deck of SeaLight admiring the lights and sounds of Fort Lauderdale. And spending uninterrupted time with the woman I love, day after day, as we make new discoveries, meet beautiful people, and together face the daily challenges of a difficult 5,000 mile cruising adventure.

How do you top that? How will any future trip compare to this? Have we ruined traveling forever? Have we unwittingly created another Argentinian Steak Situation?

Well, any future winter getaway Caribbean fly and flops will certainly suffer in comparison. In fact, paying thousands for a week on a crowded beach is going to be hard to swallow after being the ones out there in the bay floating at anchor, secluded, watching the busy action from afar. So perhaps we will forgo these trips and save resources for a future sailing journey. Easy to say now, yes, but it might be much harder to pass up during the next frigid January in Canada. This may present a small dilemma, but still a nice problem to have.

As far as our other travel hobby of backpacking, this trip changes nothing, and only fuels our desire to explore the world. In fact, most of the time we’ve spend on land during this trip is no different than the previous backpacking trips we’ve undertaken, which is probably why this adventure has been so profoundly good – equal parts beaches, nature and wildlife, sailing, and city exploring.

Damn, it’s been a good trip.