Changes in L’Attitude

The Elimination-Challenge

One of the first things I learned when I was in naturopathic medical school was that when in doubt, treat the gut.  As our second brain, the enteric nervous system in our gut is constantly giving us feedback about the messages we are taking in from our surroundings.  Over time, habits, including the foods we eat, can fade into the background like white noise or elevator music.  An Elimination-Challenge is one way to clear the static so that the messages can once again be received loud and clear.  In essence, the elimination phase requires one to remove specific foods, or those foods eaten most frequently, from one's diet.  After a washout period of three weeks, each food is re-introduced (i.e., challenged) one at a time.  Having cleared the chatter from your body’s circuitry, you can now discern how that food really feels in your body – for better or worse.  This is a great way for people to get real feedback about their food and learn what nourishes them versus those foods that cause heartburn, headaches, joint pains, GI distress, fatigue, insomnia, etc. 

By now, you may be wondering what any of this has to do with sailing.  Well, I was in the shower one morning – and I don’t mean those 2-minute showers at the stern of the boat, I’m talking about a long, endless-hot-water-at-a-stable-temperature marina shower – and I was struck by an idea.  My friend Andrea had posted a message to some cruiser moms on Facebook about her feelings on re-entering “normal” life on land.  As I read her account of what was essentially a disorienting, frustrating experience, I found myself nodding in agreement, relieved to find that other cruisers were also exhibiting acute crankiness, impatience, and general discontent.  You see, my forays onto land – with its traffic, press of humanity, noise, stimuli, excesses, and commercialism – were also leaving me dazed and irritable.  As the water steamed up around me in the spacious shower stall, I had the sudden insight that following a five-month washout period in the Bahamas, the “challenge” of returning to the US, resulted in a dramatic response that’s touched me on a soul level.  Something is just not right here.  Like waking up in someone else’s skin, it all feels too unfamiliar, jarring, and just plain wrong.  More and more, when people ask me when we’re coming back (to land), I find myself thinking “Why?” – a huge departure from my attitude two year ago when I insisted that we have our back-to-land plan in place before we cast off. 

Best Laid Plans

Over the past two years that we’ve been living on the boat, what I thought would be a short-term break with a return to something that closely resembled our previous life, has transformed into a long-term exploration and investigation of everything.  While I was happy enough to sell everything and throw the entire deck of cards up in the air, I was in no way prepared for how they began to land.  In fact, last fall when we began making plans for our next winter in the Bahamas, I was certain that I would be returning this summer to one of two potential job opportunities that had presented themselves quite serendipitously.  By February, one of the opportunities had evaporated and when the other job opened, it evoked feelings of such ambivalence that I decided not to apply.  Instead of an opportunity, it was beginning to look like a big step in the wrong direction.  I thought that this past year would be a time for me to manifest what’s next, but now I see that it was a time to strip away all of the constructs of what I thought my life should look like.  As I percolate along, gestating happily at anchor, I am curious to see what emerges at the end of this fruitful journey.  At this point, what’s next is anyone’s guess. 

Changes in Latitude

Not that being back in the States has been all bad.  I have dearly loved catching up with my family and friends, the comfort of familiarity, reliable internet and phone service, great restaurants, ethnic food, movies in a real movie theater, marinas with sufficient hot water for an entire shower, and grocery shopping that does not entail having to choose the best of the rotting fruit or, for that matter, reaching for a red cabbage and - what the heck - throwing in a green one, too, just for variety.  Nonetheless, I found re-entry to the U.S. a dragging-my-heals, kicking and screaming experience that only gradually eased into resignation and then, enjoyment.  As we’ve worked our way north to the Chesapeake, I have begun to come to terms with these new feelings and finding that home really is where we are at this moment.   Sitting on the hard at Dennis Point Marina (Drayden, Maryland), the trip north – even at our slow pace – seemed to go by too fast.

Soft Landing

This year, we left the Bahamas sooner than we wanted because of a failed windlass.  At first a bit cranky, the windlass gave up about three weeks too early for us.  Given that we were already so close to our return date, we decided to just head back rather than release and haul up 100 feet of anchor chain manually.  A broken windlass gave us a good excuse to raft up to Water Lily one night at Saddle Cay – our last hurrah, as it were.  From our position in the Northern Exumas, we sailed across to Nassau and all the way to the Berries (Bird Cay) in one fell swoop.  Up until Nassau, we were having a wonderful ride, but stronger than forecasted winds and big seas plagued us all the way across New Providence Channel – a body of water that always seems to bite us.  At one point, we decided to reef the mainsail but the outer covering of the main halyard parted, leaving us no choice but to work the cover off the core to avoid jamming the halyard at some inconvenient point.  If we had any doubts about heading back to Florida, they were now put to rest, as we knew we couldn’t sail too long with the halyard in that condition.  After two nights at Bird Cay we had a good weather window to continue on to Florida and arrived in Lake Worth the next morning. 

 

Rafted up to Water Lily at Saddle Cay

Dinner on Dream Catcher 

One last sandcastle for the road

Peanut Island

Florida is our home base and we always have fun there.  On this trip, we also had our friends on Rollick and Water Lily nearby, as we were all clustered around Peanut Island.  As its name suggests*, this is a tiny island just inside Lake Worth Inlet.  Quiet and peaceful during the week, the island is party central on the weekends as power boats - laden with beer-filled coolers and bikini-clad babes, doing their best to out-blast everyone else’s music - line the shore.  My brother Phil, who until recently was a supervisor for Palm Beach County beaches (now Division Chief at Delray Beach), told me that people were even erecting props in the shallows for pole dancing before they were banned.  But, that was not the Peanut Island we experienced.  We anchored south of the island and only skirted its perimeter as we cleared in to Customs and rendezvoused with friends. 

(*Peanut Island was formed when the inlet was first excavated and was, in fact, originally called Inlet Island.  When the State gave permission for the island to be used as a shipping terminal for peanut oil, the name was changed to Peanut Island.  Although the enterprise was abandoned in 1946, the name has stuck but I still like to think the name is because of its diminutive size – about 80 acres.)

Cumberland Island

Tired of traveling, we were desperate to find an excuse not to take the boat north this year.  A summer in the hot, hazy, humid Chesapeake just didn’t’ sound like fun.   But insurance requires us to be north by June 1st, so we sucked it up and moved on – reluctantly.  After the better part of a week in St. Augustine for Jeanette to finish up her 6^th grade final exams, we were on our way to Cumberland Island.  I was last there 30 years ago, camping with my friend Dede.  We covered nearly every inch of the island back then and I’m happy to say that it looks much the same as it did all those years ago.   It was a bit more crowded (though, to be fair, it was Mother’s Day weekend) and there is a museum now in the old ice house, but the ruins are still intriguing, the Live Oaks still magical, and the wild horses are as beautiful as ever.  One equine family came quite close to us while we were picnicking – a stallion, a mare, a filly, and a foal.  There was some display of sexual dominance by the stallion making for an interesting lunch conversation with our 11-year-old daughter - not that Evolve (thank you, Diane) and Planet Earth’s David Attenborough haven’t already taught her about the subtle nuances of sexual activity among mammals.  A wonderful Mother’s Day dinner on the boat, a peaceful night at anchor in Cumberland Sound and we were off. 

Oh, the things you'll see when you go to sea! (Fernandina Beach, FL)

The ruins at Dungeness

Typical path on Cumberland Island

Horses,

horses,

and more horses!

Charleston

The recent news about the Charleston shootings has had us reeling.  We spent a wonderful week there and just loved exploring the city.  The locals with whom we spoke all seemed to have such hope for the revitalization and development of their town.  Everyday we took long walks through old neighborhoods with their beautiful ironwork and lush gardens.  Jeanette and I had a girls’ day with a museum, house tour, and lunch out on the town.  One of the most interesting things about the house tour was the docent herself.  A 94-year-old former schoolteacher, she was sharp as a tack and reminded me so much of my Great Aunt Florence that I found myself as captivated by her as she was by Jeanette.  I’m not sure how the others felt, but the docent directed most of what she said to J, who made for a thoroughly attentive audience.

Loved the iron work, the fountains...

the whimsy....

and the flower boxes everywhere!

Our morning view

Sand Bar, Oyster Bar, Whine Bar

We left Charleston in the afternoon.  Our plans to sail overnight to Morehead City were thwarted by unfavorable winds and we ended up retreating to the ICW at Cape Fear.  It was slow going on the inside and we had two groundings before we realized that the charts on my iPad hadn’t been updated.  Waaaaahhhh!  The first grounding was right on the edge of the channel, thankfully on a sandbar.  The second took place where the channel had been re-marked, but I mistook the marks for private navigational aids and failed to make the proper adjustment.  We hit hard bottom – most likely an oyster bar – and I was feeling quite badly until a power yacht came motoring along beside us.  His last words before he, too, ran aground were “I’ve got plenty of depth here – 7 feet!”  Apparently, he also thought the marks were private.  At that point, I was sufficiently traumatized to turn the helm over for good that day. 

The ICW - beautiful and deceptively benign

Favorites Old and New

We spent little time in Morehead City – just long enough to fuel up, refill a propane tank, do laundry, and hit our regular breakfast spot.  Another day in the ICW and we found our new favorite stop – Oriental, NC.  With a free dock for transients and a small, compact village to explore, what’s not to like?  Our stay coincided with the farmer’s market and fresh fish (salmon!) from the fish market.  On Saturday evening the local marina, where the transient docks are located, hosted a band.  We dragged our chairs up to the cabin top and enjoyed their mellow tunes until well after sunset. 

Roanoke Island

Another favorite, Roanoke is at the northern tip of Pamlico Sound and the southern tip of the Albemarle Sound – two nasty bodies of water we generally try to avoid.  We spent nearly a week here, visiting the museum and enjoying the quiet peace of Manteo.  While we were there, Ken found out that the nearby Oregon Inlet had just been surveyed and marked.  Rather than cross the Albemarle and continue up the ICW, we decided to give the inlet a try so we could have one last sail on the ocean before the Chesapeake.  Not recommended for boats without local knowledge, the twisting channel is surrounded by dry sandbars.  Even following the marks, we touched bottom just outside the bridge when we dipped in the trough of a wave. 

Learning to use an old-fashioned woodworking vise

Practicing duck hunting

Had to consult the fish book on this one... a Cobia

Ever-present dredging in the ICW

Even from 20' of water, the sandbar is unnerving

Chesapeake Bay

Although Cape Hatteras is the boundary for our insurance, most cruising boats with that parameter summer in the Chesapeake and we are no exception. Our first stop was Portsmouth/Norfolk where we spent our anniversary and enjoyed Harborfest with its tall ships parade, sea-air rescue demonstrations, a tug boat muster, live music, and ship tours.  Harborfest was a zoo, but it paid off for us as the anchorage at Hospital Point had the best view of the incredible fireworks display set off from a barge in the river. 

Tug muster - showing off their considerable muscle

The Hermione

Regatta in Norfolk

Sea-Air-Rescue demonstration

Now that we’re in the Chesapeake, our pace has slowed to a crawl.  From Portsmouth, we came up to Dennis Point Marina, at the mouth of the Potomac, for a haul out and boat maintenance.  As predicted, the weather was hot and humid, but the pool and the a/c were reasons enough to feel grateful.  Our one-week stay morphed into three, but that’s a story for another post. 

Got a/c?

Now we're in Baltimore enjoying a decadent experience in a marina (almost a requirement when the temperature hits 95 and the humidity 80%). We're enjoying AC coolness and a pool next to the boat for managing the weather. Our friends on Rollick have rolled out the welcome mat and introduced us to a combination of Huckleberry vodka, lemonade and raspberry juice. Deadly. Lots to see and do here. We're going to hide from the weather for at least a month before heading south and back to Washington DC for more museums - they have a never-ending supply of them.