Christmas

It's been a while since my last post. Sorry about that. Between internet woes and a couple of unscheduled trips back to Baltimore, I've gotten way behind. But not to worry, all is quite well. We have not sunk. Rick has not murdered me like that guy at Cay Sal Island. Not yet anyway (you can read about that here).

More B'sSA episodes are on their way, and hopefully I'll get caught up soon. What follows is a piece I wrote a couple of days after Christmas, but never posted:

Our boat Xmas tree - decorated with popcorn and cranberries

I am not feeling very Christmassy this year. Not that I’m turning into a Mister Grinch or anything. But usually I’m thinking up presents for people way ahead of time. I love decorating the tree, looking at all of the colored lights around the neighborhood, the cold air, eggnog, fires in the fireplace, maybe even a little snow… It just doesn’t feel like yuletide, by ourselves on a boat in the Bahamas. With palm trees. And sand fleas.

I’ll admit it, I’ve been pretty down lately. My episode with the no-see-ums has left me constantly itchy, and even though we’ve gotten the bites down to about five or ten new ones a day, my image of life in the Bahamas has taken a big hit. Our internet connection is pretty spotty here too, so I don’t even have that to keep me distracted. Not that news of the latest Trump catastrophe would be particularly uplifting, but I don’t like being cut off from all the people I love, particularly during the holidays. I’ve been spending most of my time inside the boat, fully clothed even in the heat in order to prevent more midge bites. I’m sure it’s a sin to not be ecstatically happy while wintering in the tropics when others in the US are freezing their butts off, and I feel a little guilty about that, but I just can’t seem to shake off my blues.

We’re anchored in a little harbor just off of Chub Cay, hanging out while we wait for a good weather window to cross over to Nassau. Chub is a privately owned island, and there’s really nothing there except a fancy resort on one end, including a string of pastel colored time-share houses and a high class inn. They can’t stop us from anchoring here, but we are not allowed to go ashore. Well, that’s not entirely true; you can bring your dinghy into the marina, but you’ll get hit with a fee. For the privilege of simply setting foot on the dock, they charge $107. That’s one hundred and seven dollars! Anything you might want to do, eat or drink once off the dock is similarly high-priced. At the moment, almost no one is staying at this resort (we’ve seen a total of three people who look like guests), and it is depressing to see all of the empty beach chairs while listening to bad music and advertisements being blasted over the resort speakers. Apparently the upper one-percent choose to spend Christmas at home.

There are plenty of other boats though. Our neighbors include a few sailboats, undoubtedly cruisers like us, and a couple of mega-yachts anchored farther out, fully equipped with jet skis and enormous water slides. Rick has been working hard to improve my spirits, taking me on swimming excursions and illegal beach walks on the other side of the island, each time returning to our original anchoring spot at the end of the day. On our way “home” from one of these mini trips, we are both excited to see two sailboats we recognize from a week or so ago at Honeymoon Harbor.

The owners are young people in their early thirties, a rarity among distance cruisers who tend to be older, usually retirees. These two couples have been on a similar winter voyage to our own, meeting at the beginning of the ICW and traveling together ever since. Back at Honeymoon, they seemed to me to be quite the adventurous types, the women with tans and bikinis and the men with full beards and spear fishing equipment. They invited us to their evening bonfires on the beach, but we never did join them. Not because we didn’t like them. They reminded me greatly of Rick’s nephew Ross and his girlfriend Anna who last year quit their jobs and traveled around Alaska in their make-shift-live-aboard SUV. Even though I love Ross and Anna, I still felt like we would be the old fogies crashing the young people’s party, so we left them to it.

Now here they are, the day before Xmas, lighting up the area simply with their presence! One of their boats even has a tree fashioned out of colored lights decorating her bow. Suddenly I start to feel some holiday spirit. We invite them all over for Christmas Eve drinks, and they arrive ready to celebrate.

Rick, Joyce, Matt, Sarah, Mike, - and in the foreground, Johnnie Walker and friends

Joyce and Matt have completely cut loose of their former land lives. Joyce is an accomplished former dancer – she was Elmo in Sesame Street Live (OMG!), and spent a number of years touring. More recently she became a massage therapist, and Matt was a driver for UPS. Married for a number of years, they lived in upstate New York but grew dissatisfied with their long hours at work and the consumerist culture they were a part of. Work more, play less, spend more, owe more - it was time for a change. They radically reigned in their spending habits in order to pay off their debts, sold their house, and even moved in with Matt’s mother in an effort to stockpile money. This last spring, they bought Duchess, a thirty-two foot Allied Seawind ketch, moved aboard, quit their jobs and left the rat race for good. This is their first visit to the Bahamas and who knows where life will take them next.

This is also the first time for Sarah and Mike, but they have a totally different story to tell. Mike is an engineer who is taking a six month leave from his job in order to make this trip. He has a collection of sailboats at home in Annapolis, and chose Intrepid, a thirty-six foot center cockpit Beneteau for this voyage. Sarah works at a veterinarians’ office in north-eastern Maryland, and lives at least two hours away from Mike. I don’t know how long they have been a couple, but they have never lived in the same community, let alone together - until this trip. Talk about taking a giant leap of faith. Sailing is not everyone’s cup of tea, and small spaces can really put a strain on any relationship. But they certainly seem happy! It obviously was a good move for them.

Age was a non-issue as we exchanged histories and entertained each other with sailing horror stories, as boaters are prone to do. We had such a good time together that Christmas Eve drinks turned into an invite for Christmas Morning brunch onboard the Beneteau, and then Christmas Night drinks on the Seawind. And in between, a group snorkel at the nearby choral reefs. What a blast. You guys really made my holiday. I can’t thank you enough.

Merry Christmas, one and all!