Category: First Mate

Where has the time gone? I think that’s the burning question asked by many– as I seemed to blink and the trip was now over. I still remember running back to the house one last time to make sure the door was locked the day we left, the heart pounding day we almost capsized on Lake Michigan and the awe of seeing the sun rise over the horizon out of the darkness during our overnight crossing of the Gulf of Mexico. I still haven’t grasped the concept of all we have seen and accomplished in the last 13 months…neither one of us have. A little over 72 hours left until we are home, I took a deep breath, hauled in the anchor and gave the thumbs up. Here we go…The last chapter –

With a wink the Captain started the engines and put her in gear. It was raining as we motored slowly along Narrow Bay. It was extremely shallow and, scouring the charts, we were nervous we were going to run aground before we made it to the Shinnecock Lock. Our last lock..so surreal. We touched bottom three times through Moriches Bay, once stalling us in place. The water barrier spray on the bimini cover seemed to wear off all at once and it was raining in the fly bridge most of the morning. The patchy fog did not help the situation as we pushed on under the three bridges leading us to the lock arriving around noon time. Radioing for permission to pass through on the next opening, I put on my life jacket, grabbed my lines and headed to the bow. It was sort of a letdown that we would only be dropping 18 inches, but it was a milestone nonetheless. The Captain joined me for the experience and commented on how I haven’t lost my touch in keeping her steady…I have to admit, this was an easy one.

The Great Peconic Bay was flat calm as we navigated to Shelter Island. Here on out, Bella Donna was in familiar waters as we had made this trip many times before. Anchoring in West Neck Harbor off Shelter Island, we relaxed for a bit before heading to shore. Standing in water all day, my feet were like prunes so I gave myself a much appreciated pedicure. First we rode over to the beach on Baby Belle with a bottle of wine to marvel at the sunset…one of the last we will see from this perspective for awhile. Sitting in the sand, I asked the Captain if we could extend the trip another week and hit some of our favorite spots. He shot my idea down as the weather was turning soon and he had a job scheduled which we had to be home for. Back to the real world.

Dinner on the outside deck of Salt that evening was delicious and very comforting. We still seemed to be on an adventure and walked the waterfront looking for shells. There was not much else to do on a September evening, so we toured the harbor on Baby Belle before returning home. It was significantly cooler all of a sudden and I pulled out an extra blanket as we settled in for bed. The Captain even slept in his socks which I had reluctantly moved to an easier location for him to access.

It was overcast and cool the next day and I grabbed a sweatshirt before firing up Baby Belle to take a little spin. The Captain was working on some things in the cabin and I thought he needed his alone time. Thinking is not always a good thing as I motored up and down the harbor and began to stress about my new life in Connecticut and getting a job. Putting the doubts out of my mind, I saw some boats heading into the harbor and I yelled for Duane to help me secure the dinghy back on the boat. Bob and Stephanie had showed up on their boat, Mischief, right as we were preparing to leave. They were originally supposed to be here yesterday, but were delayed by the awful conditions on the bay. After a quick Hello and Good-bye, we planned to call them in the next two days and meet up at the marina as we completed the Loop. Heading onto the Peconic River, it was a mere 45 minute ride for us to get to Sag Harbor Bay where we grabbed a mooring. Again, another last on the trip.

Shawn and Heather were waiting for us on shore. They had by far traveled the most to come see us taking three ferries and biking between the stops all the way from New London to Sag Harbor. That was definitely no small feat. Greeting us on the dock after we tied up the dinghy, we all walked to LT Burger for lunch. I was sure they had worked up a big appetite and we all ordered burgers with the works as we caught up. Duane kept in touch through text over the last year, but we had not seen them since our going away party last June. Unfortunately, they were not able to stay much passed lunch since they had a lot of ground to cover to get back home. It was refreshing to see them and we were thankful they made the trek over. Walking them to their bikes, we bid them safe travels and planned to get together in a few weeks once we were settled.

My very good friend Melissa ended up driving over from Montauk with her friend Kathy to also welcome us back. They came just in time for dessert as we sat back down and ordered fried oreos. Why not indulge a little? Laughing and catching them up on the latest and greatest of the tail end of our travels, the one big question was –Where do we go from here? Nothing would ever top this journey and right now we were just going through the motions for the next few miles before we arrived back at Harboredge in North Stonington. Walking through town before they left, Fall was definitely in the air as a crisp breeze blew. The village was long ago the first port of entry into the United States and now boasted the most expensive property values in New York. Before we knew it, we were alone again. It was us and Bella Donna the rest of the way.

I was excited when the Captain yelled from Baby Belle the next morning to hop in and take a ride to shore with him. I was even more excited when he suggested we get some breakfast sandwiches to enjoy as we strolled around the quaint little town. Back on the boat, I had prepared our last lunch and placed it carefully on the engine. We will both surely miss my now infamous engine paninis. Releasing us from the mooring, I lingered on the bow as we left the cove taking it all in. The sun was out but the wind was blowing at 20 knots as we hit Gardiner’s Bay and were being tossed by 3-4 foot seas. 5 miles out of Three Mile Harbor was excruciating as we seemed to be getting swallowed up by the water churning around us in every direction. Without hesitation, the Captain fired up both engines, pushed her to 10 mph and motored us out of the situation. Conditions calmed as soon as we were in the protection of the land and the Captain throttled back. Our 35 year old boat had pulled us through yet again. It was now Day 400 and she had run 186 of those days with only a few major in-house repairs. There was one casualty that day-a glass fell from the cabinet and broke. Hopefully that was good luck.

First we took care of business-filling the water tanks so I could shower that evening, getting a pump out and then washing all the salt water off so Bella Donna looked refreshed upon our arrival tomorrow. Tomorrow…the idea of being back home was still unbelievable. Then, we anchored at the south end of the Harbor and I straightened up the cabin which had been severely tossed in the short 7 mile trip. Duane’s mom and sister, Lisa, had sent me some money to take Duane out for a birthday dinner and tonight we were headed to The Blend. Having amazing reviews, we took Baby Belle to shore and walked over to the restaurant. The reviews were spot on and we couldn’t have asked for a better last dinner to close out the trip and toast to the Captain’s birthday. I was hesitant to get back to the boat as I knew that signified the end of the most amazing time of our lives. We planned to be home at 1pm tomorrow and leave Bella Donna at the dock. We decided to linger a bit and take a long dinghy ride through the harbor embracing the beautiful evening and let reality sink in.

It was overcast and chilly the following morning as I hoisted the anchor one last time. Of course, it wasn’t going to be that easy as we were stuck in mud and it was a struggle. Not only was it a battle to get the chain in and washed off, there was mud everywhere including all over myself once I was done. So much for cleaning us both up before our arrival…Both referring to Bella Donna and I as the Captain sat in his chair on the fly bridge far from the messy situation. It was a short 25 miles to port, but we still had to cross the dreaded Gardiner’s Bay. Duane said I went through a huge range of emotions that day beginning with cursing at the anchor to almost crying when the waves started crashing over the bow as we made our way through the Block Island Sound. Around Plum Island things suddenly calmed and a smile took over my face the rest of the trip. Passing the ruins of Fort Tyler, I was not sure how I never noticed this obstruction off Gardiner’s Point Island before. One final history lesson…The fort was finished after the Spanish American War and was used for a wide array of purposes none having to do with an armament due to the shifting sand— It was a park in the 2o’s, a bombing range in the 30’s and after WWII, and a bird preserve then and now. Dubbed “The Ruins” due to the erosion from the sea only a small obstruction juts out of the water of the once 14 acre land mass. The sun was now shining and we were closing in on crossing our wake.

Lighthouses guided us the rest of the way home. First the Little Gull Island Lighthouse off the reef half way across the bay, next we passed Race Rock Lighthouse off Fisher’s Island and finally North Dumpling Island Lighthouse located near the border crossing from New York into Connecticut. Rounding Stonington Point, we were in the home stretch and about 45 minutes early. Bob and Stephanie were a few minutes behind us and we pulled over in the harbor grabbing a mooring to collect ourselves. I was actually fighting back tears as we saw the Welcome Home sign at the end of the dock with family and friends frantically waving as we came into full view. The Captain backed her into the slip perfectly as he had done many times before and I tossed the lines to Bob who had docked his boat and was waiting to help tie us up. Stepping off the boat we had come full circle and were now Gold Loopers. Duane popped open champagne as I greeted everyone who had arrived. His mom and sister had food set up at the picnic table at the end of the dock and we all went to sit down and spent the afternoon talking and laughing as though we had just left yesterday.

I think it really hit me that night when we arrived at the house. It was dark and quiet and not yet home to me. I had only left the New York City 5 weeks before the trip began and never got a feel for living here since most of that time we were bombarded with preparations for our travels. I don’t know about the Captain, but I hardly slept at all that night. I think I had become way too accustomed to the water slapping against the hull and the incessant rocking of the boat. Maybe there’s an app for that? Or maybe we just have to go for Platinum!

Below is our official statement upon crossing our wake and receiving our Gold burgee–

Traveling almost 7000 miles over 401 days through 18 states, Canada, the Bahamas and 109 locks was an adventure we will never forget. It was a true learning experience every day as one of us needed to be a full-time Captain, part-time mechanic with unlimited overtime and novice meteorologist while the other became an expert navigator, proficient line handler and professional organizer. We will forever cherish the friends we were so fortunate to make along the way and look forward to crossing paths in the future on and off the water. From Hell’s Gate to conquering Lake Michigan and the Mighty Mississippi and from the fjords of Canada to crossing the Gulf of Mexico and swimming with the pigs, the memories we’ve amassed will be treasured for the rest of our lives. We can count the harrowing experiences on one hand…plus a few toes…but a beautiful sunset and a bottle of wine was enough to turn the worst day around and we were always excited to see what possibilities a new day would bring our way.

The Point Pleasant Canal was backed up with Saturday morning traffic as we tailed ten fishing boats to the Manasquan River and out onto the Atlantic Ocean. In a few hours we had crossed the waters into New York and saw the city skyline on the horizon. The view was a welcome sight as I had not realized how much I had actually missed home until now. Not going back to the city will be somewhat of an adjustment, but I was excited for the change and the new memories to be made. There was a cool breeze as we motored out on the open water to a slight chop and made a beeline toward the East Rockaway Inlet. The conditions were relatively calm and I drove most of the way across as Duane readied the boat for docking. It had just hit us both that this was the last time we would be tying the boat up to a dock until we arrived at our home port marina in Connecticut.

Making the turn into the channel, we maneuvered around pleasure boaters and were in full view of the all too familiar beach clubs of Atlantic Beach. Umbrellas and beach towels covered every inch of the sand as family and friends enjoyed the holiday weekend outdoors. Passing under the Atlantic Beach Bridge, which I had crossed over hundreds of times growing up, but never under until now, we were about an hour away from my friend Tara and Michael’s house on the bay along the Reynolds Channel in Long Beach. Approaching the dock, the Captain thought at first we would not be able to maneuver into position as there was an old boat lift taking up part of the dock space which I had not realized was there. But, it was no surprise that he backed in with expert precision. The kids helped with the lines and we were soon snug and secure against the dock.

It was a beautiful day and Duane went out on the paddle board with Breda and Brogan who tried in vain to knock him off. Guerin showed him how to navigate the jet ski and he was soon off taking a spin around the bay. While all the kids, big and little, played, I gave Tara a tour of the boat and we sat outside on the fly bridge watching all the activity. Michael was at work and we wouldn’t see him until the morning so Guerin hopped on his bike and went to pick us up burgers for dinner. Sitting out on the deck overlooking the bay, we had a nice night enjoying the breeze and talking while the kids played on the dock and jumped off the bow of the boat until the sun went down. The sunset was spectacular and the boat glowed in the reflection off the water.

Our quiet peaceful sleep was rudely interrupted at about 6:30 the next morning when we were rocked out of bed by the wake of a passing boat not abiding by the No Wake Zone. Up early, I grabbed my towel and took an outdoor shower before the kids made their way down to the boat. Our friend Jen was coming to pick me up later that morning to go to her sister’s beach club in Atlantic Beach. I had lived in Howard Beach two blocks from Dee and Jen for many years and loved going to Atlantic Beach where Dee now lived so this was going to be a treat. Duane choose to stay around the bay with the kids and Michael to enjoy the water sports. We had acquired a knee board along our travels and Duane whipped it out for the kids to try. Before we left, we gifted the board to them as they would get so much more use out of the toy than we ever would.

Grabbing some sandwiches from the deli and filling the cooler, our beach chairs were already waiting for us as we joined the circle of friends who had gathered for a lazy afternoon on the beach. Dee’s husband, Shane, pulled a chair up beside me and I told him some trip highlights as no one had believed a year ago we would make it this far. The day flew by and we all went back to Tara and Michael’s for a barbecue on the deck. After having drinks on the boat and showing everyone how we lived the last 394 days, Michael grilled up some chicken, hot dogs and burgers. Another great evening with friends was in the books.

Bright and early the following morning Duane took me out on the jet ski to show me what it could do. He opened her up full throttle to 52 mph and I thought I had whiplash as he jumped the waves and did donuts around the bay. Along with Dee and Shane, our friends Lisa, Laurie and her boyfriend George were meeting us for lunch at the Jetty Bar and Grill in town. Long Beach was my old stomping grounds and we set off toward West Park Avenue where I took a short detour to show Duane two houses which I had rented for the summer many many many years ago. When we were younger, we would pack the small bungalows to the rafters with friends and it would be a non-stop beach party every weekend. After lunch, we all went to have a drink at Lily’s sitting outside at the makeshift picnic tables set up in the would be parking lot. It was so good to see everyone and I hoped that these gatherings would become more of a regular occurrence now that we were back home…well as long as Covid didn’t mess things up.

Tara and I spent the rest of the time hanging out outside on the dock, catching up and making plans to get together in the “country” where I was now going to live. Michael had to leave for work super early so we said our farewells to him that evening before heading to bed. We again counted our blessings for having such good friends who were willing to take us in and add to the unforgettable memories we will have of this journey.

Tara was taking Breda to the eye doctor early in the morning so I went up to the house to wish them well before they left. After we showered and got the boat ready to move on, Brogan and Guerin helped us untie and watched as we drove off out of sight toward the Railway Bridge. Moving along, the Reynolds Channel Bridge was super narrow and said to have a clearance of 18 feet. I held my breath as we squeezed through with no problem before turning out the Jones Beach Inlet. Passing familiar landmarks the whole way, such as the Jones Beach Theater and the Jones Beach Water Tower, we powered through the Fire Island Inlet back into the protected waters beyond Robert Moses State Park. Once the lighthouse on the Great South Bay was in full view, we were in the home stretch to our destination –Ocean Beach, Fire Island.

After Long Beach, my friends and I graduated to renting summer houses in Fire Island for many years. During high season, the area was only accessible by ferry, water taxi or private vessel as motor vehicles were prohibited on the entire island. Fire Island, being a narrow barrier island consisting of a string of beach towns surrounded by sand and water, had always been a great getaway to escape the craziness of life in the city. Anchoring off of Ocean Beach, we took Baby Belle to the public dock and walked to the center of town. The shops and restaurants were just as I had remembered them and it was as the changing times had left the town untouched. Our friends, Staci and Jen, were taking the ferry over to meet us at Maguire’s for dinner so we sat at the bar and I ordered Duane a rocket fuel so he could have the full experience of life on the island. Seeing the ferry pull in, Jen and Staci soon rushed through the door and gave us the biggest hugs welcoming us back safe and sound. Sitting outside on the deck, we ordered drinks and toasted to a job well done. Duane pointed at the boat floating out in the bay with the magnificent sunset as a back drop…she had safely gotten us through many precarious situations and was a few days away from a much needed rest. The meal was absolutely phenomenal and the dinner guests even more enjoyable as we joked and laughed for hours just like old times. A year had gone by in the blink of an eye. Jen made fun of Duane and his selfie stick as I told stories of his hilarious photography attempts with the contraption. Staci, in turn, passed on relationship advice from Terrance as we had left them in Naples over 8 months ago in the height of our exciting travels and we were now headed toward boring domestic life. Walking them back to the ferry, I realized how much I had truly missed them and all the laughs and I was extremely sad to see them go.

The lights of the ferry had soon faded and we rode back to the boat to settle in for the rest of the night. There was a light drizzle when we woke up and moved the boat a short distance down the bay to anchor outside Sailor’s Haven. We took the bikes ashore and rode through the Sunken Forest. The forest was located behind the sand dunes and was a rare maritime ecological habitat. We biked along the wooden paths and through the sprawling trees and abundant plant life, but the damp air had stirred up the mosquitoes which were on the hunt. We had both sprayed ourselves from head to toe, but some still managed to penetrate and I was swatting and shooing the pesky creatures for half of the day.

Elated that I survived with only three bites, we secured the bikes onto the boat and I cranked up the anchor. It was a gloomy day and we drove along the Great South Bay to Narrow Bay anchoring in Shirley just beyond the Smith Point Bridge off the channel. There was not a soul around and the weather had cleared up enough to treat us to another beautiful sunset as we inched ever so close to home.

Today was the Captain’s birthday and we woke to an amazing sunrise. Our eyes were set on the prize–Bayville, NJ—as today was going to be a long day on the water in more ways than one. The port engine had a water pump leak and starboard was also leaking and having a belt issue causing it to run extremely hot…neither of which we could fix at anchor. We just prayed neither engine gave out before we made it to Karin and Tommy’s house and tied up off their property. After our time hanging out in Florida so many months ago, we were excited to be able to make this visit happen as they were the first of many friends we planned to see on the return tour to Connecticut. In addition to engine issues, we had to ride out on the ocean for the first few hours before ducking back in at the Little Egg Inlet. The travel conditions were not stellar as we fought the wind and waves and pitched and rocked the whole way. It was exhausting and most of the day we were moving at less than 6 mph to ensure we didn’t break down.

Finally arriving in early evening, Tommy come out on his skiff to thankfully lead us into the canal from Barnegat Bay. Kelsey, Katelyn and Karin were patiently waiting for us and grabbed the lines. We had made it in the nick of time as the port engine stalled just as we approached and the Captain let out a sigh of relief as he shut Bella Donna down. It was a long torturous day and now it was time to relax, catch up and celebrate. The engine problems could all be sorted out in the morning with a clearer head. Grabbing the birthday boy a drink, we made our way inside their beautiful waterfront home. The interior was open and airy with the perfect beach decor. The deck, with its prime water view, was the quintessential outdoor location for dinner, drinks and conversation. We were exactly where we wanted to be.

Our friends were definitely rolling out the red carpet as they had a spread of food laid out for us and Karin was the ultimate hostess never letting our drinks go dry. Duane entertained with travel stories…some of which made Karin cringe. We caught them up on the destinations we had been to since we last saw them…namely the Bahamas. Morning was upon us before we knew it, and after a long hot outdoor shower, Tommy made us eggs and bacon. Two things I haven’t had the pleasure of enjoying in months and the rough day we had yesterday was now a distant memory.

Karin and I went off to do some shopping as I left Duane to figure out the engine situation. In the end, Tommy took him to the store and he had to replace both water impeller pumps and one belt. Of course the pumps had to match the rest of the engine ensemble so out came the blue spray paint. I thought it was bad juju to keep the bad parts in the engine room so it looked like they would be riding in the salon for the remainder of the trip. Maybe I could hide them in the sock bin?

Karin and I were not the best bakers and had thrown together a cake before we left. The girls helped us out by decorating the cake for Duane’s birthday and it looked perfect. Our friends, Nicole and Tom, had a house in Bradley Beach and drove over that evening to see us. The last time we saw them was in downtown Manhattan over a year ago when we had just started the trip. In addition to indulging in shrimp and a spread of appetizers, Tommy grilled up some tuna steaks to perfection. Giving Nicole and Tom a tour of the boat, they remarked that it wasn’t much smaller than my old apartment so it was probably easier for me to get acclimated, well aside from the whole floating thing. Laughing and telling stories over drinks well into the evening, Katelyn lit the candles on the cake and we sang Happy Birthday to Duane. We were slowly accepting the reality of getting back to life off the boat. Seeing friends and, realizing we hadn’t missed that much in the last 13 months, made us feel a little better. But, when I say a little better that the trip was coming to an end, I mean very slightly.

Karin and I headed down to the beach the next day. Tommy took us for a leisurely ride over to the dock near South Seaside Park Beach on the skiff. We walked over to a friend’s shed where they kept some bikes and rode down to the sand. My best friend Lauren had driven to New Jersey from Long Island and was meeting us there to have a relaxing girls’ afternoon. It was a great day of reminiscing about college life when we were all together and about how life has changed so much since then. Lauren drove us back to the house and we sat out on the deck continuing our trip down memory lane. The boys joined us after the boat work was completed and we had dinner and leftover cake before Lauren had to head back to her sister-in-law’s house where her daughter Katie was waiting for her. I wished I had had more time to spend with her, but I was so grateful she made the long drive and we had at least an afternoon to catch up.

Tommy and Duane went out fishing early the next morning as Karin and I relaxed around the house. An obviously successful venture, they returned with the cooler full with 48 blowfish (AKA pufferfish) and 1 kingfish. The boys got right to cleaning their catch much to the delight of the birds in the canal who were fighting over the heads and skins discarded in the water. After everyone cleaned up and smelt much better, we drove over to Shady Rest Restaurant for some lunch. Karin and Tommy were friends with the owner, Bob Popovics, of the low key popular eatery where everyone seemed to know each other and welcomed strangers with open arms. It was a pleasure to meet Bob who was a saltwater fly fishing legend. He revolutionized the sport not only in perfecting fly fishing techniques, but also in the groundbreaking design of the flies. At his recommendation, we sat outside near the vibrant rose garden which gave the space a New Orleans courtyard feel. The martinis were amazing and the food was exceptional as we enjoyed our afternoon a mere 4 hour car ride from home.

Karin’s neighbors came over the house that evening and we had a rousing night singing karaoke. After a few glasses of wine, I thought I was trying out for American Idol and belted out a few songs albeit way out of tune. Duane slyly recorded the event and will probably whip out the performances at future gatherings for a laugh.

And just like that, it was time for us to move on. The last three and a half days had been just what we needed and we were so thankful to have friends like them to spend time with who also went out of their way to accommodate us and the boat and help us get the repairs done…. as well as give us a ton of the blowfish to take on our way. The whole family helped us cast off and we slowly drove down the canal toward Barnegat Bay as we took one last look over our shoulders and waved Goodbye. Watching us on the live feed from the Manasquan webcam, Tommy sent Duane pictures of us on the move.

There was lots of traffic out on the bay as it was the kick off to Labor Day weekend. The cigarette boats flying around at warp speed were particularly loud and obnoxious. We stopped for gas in Bay Head and ended up anchoring outside the Bay Head Yacht Club for the night. It was surreal to imagine that this was literally the last time we would be getting gas until the next boating season as Bella Donna was going to rest for the winter as soon as we got home.

Tommy had given us cornmeal topping to bread the blowfish with, so I coated the fish as Duane fired up the barbecue. Skeptical at first by the look of them, the blowfish were simply delicious. We sat on the bow as the sun was setting devouring our meal listening to the music emanating from the Yacht Club. The engines had performed great after the expert repairs by the Captain and his assistant, Tommy. After tonight, we would be in familiar waters heading into New York stopping in Long Beach for the holiday weekend.

Heading out onto the bay by 8am we caught a favorable current the rest of the way into Cape May, NJ. I had been highly anticipating our visit here as, even though we were now so close to home, I had never had the opportunity to visit this lazy beach town. The sun was shining and there was a light breeze which helped keep the flying critters away. Passing the Elbow of Cross Ledge Lighthouse, there were hundreds of birds perched all along the structure and we prayed they wouldn’t do a group flyover to greet us with some unpleasant droppings. The lighthouse marked the southern end of a navigational hazard along the Delaware Bay and we stayed well away from it. Now just a skeleton tower aided by a solar beacon, it was once a brick lighthouse manually operated by a crew of keepers. Container ships were busy trekking along the main shipping channel as were fishing boats some of which looked more like they should be on the waters of Thailand than the Delaware Bay off the coast of New Jersey.

Our course was plotted directing us to the Bay Shore Channel and into the Cape May Inlet. Heading through the breakwater, we waited for the ferry to maneuver around and make its way by us on the way to Lewes, Delaware full of goods and passengers. Arriving at Utsch’s Marina a little after lunchtime, the dock hands helped us tie up in the slip. Walking over to the office to settle our bill, we were given a very thoughtful gift bag filled with soaps, biscotti, maps and a bottle of wine. An older woman who lived in the area made nautical wreaths decorated with hundreds of shells that were on display at the desk and we decided to purchase one to add to the boat decor. Well, I made the executive decision on the purchase as the Captain thought the weight from all the hot glue used on the project would slow us down significantly. Not like the fourth anchor we picked up along the way and the filthy bottom of the boat had anything to do with our speed issue.

Cape May, with all its Victorian charm, is the oldest seaside resort town in the nation. While I filled the bike tires with air, the Captain did his best to make a point as he left the dreaded socks all over the bed once he located their hiding place behind the stash of toilet paper. Peddling off to Beach Avenue to catch a glimpse of the ocean and see the conditions, we made our way to Washington Street Mall to walk around the shops and boutiques. The mall was right in the center of Cape May and was bordered by idyllic Victorian homes leading us all the way to the water.

We locked up the bikes and went to the outdoor patio of Barefoot Bar and Grill which was packed with beachgoers enjoying the afternoon after a day of fun in the sun. To our surprise, a thunderstorm, which was more like a monsoon, came down on us a few minutes later and we hid under a makeshift tent set up by the band. One good thing about being stuck here for the time being was they were serving Cape May local beers as we crouched down on the floor with a few new friends in an attempt to stay dry. About two hours later the rain let up just enough that we were able to dry off the bike seats and ride to Lucky Bones Back Water Grille for an amazing dinner and then peddled back to the boat as fast as we could before the rain started up again.

The rain poured down all evening and into the next morning. There was a break in the storms around 11am and I ran to take a shower and throw the bag of wet clothes and towels from the day before in the dryer. Once the bikes were dried off and Duane secured a plastic bag to each seat, we were on our way to Plum Farm. There were chickens and pigs covered in mud all along the trails on the farm. None of which smelled particularly pleasant after the rain storm. I was concentrating so hard on not getting stuck in the mud and falling over, as that would definitely have ruined my day, that I almost ran over some chicks trying to catch up to their mother. Back at the main part of the farm, we found a table in the herb garden and I ordered a sandwich from the food truck. The Captain opted for dessert with a slice of pumpkin cream cheese pound cake. Both of which we washed down with farm fresh blackberry juice.

The ride up to Willow Creek Winery was scenic and charming as we rode down the road surrounded by grape vines and groves. Not thinking we would need a reservation, there ended up being a two hour wait for an outdoor table and no tastings were being offered due to the virus, so we were soon on our way. Riding back toward the beach, we stopped at the Cape May Point Lighthouse and then walked along the sand to the abandoned World War II bunker. As much of an eye sore as it was, it was fascinating to see the concrete structure still intact on the sandy shore. Our last night in town, we arrived back at the Washington Street Mall to grab a drink and decide on dinner. Voting on the Lobster House, we rode back to load the bikes onto the boat and freshen up before heading out on foot to Fisherman’s Wharf. We had heard rave reviews about this harbor front restaurant which boosted five separate dining experiences. As was expected at this point, the indoor dining rooms were closed. Putting our name on the list for both the open patio and the schooner, we walked the ramp along the water enjoying a glass of wine.

The buzzer for the Schooner American rang first and we settled in at a small table on the deck of the 130 ft. Grand Banks sailing vessel moored to the restaurant. With breathtaking views of the harbor, we were not disappointed at all and ordered an array of appetizers from the menu.

Being only about 300 miles from home, we will definitely have to return when we have more time and there are less restrictions due to the pandemic. All things aside, we had thoroughly enjoyed our time in Cape May and were grateful to watch as the sun set on another remarkable day.

The port engine had begun to spray water so the Captain had to run the temperamental starboard engine for most of our travels to Atlantic City. Out on the New Jersey ICW we were soon faced with all too familiar and very unpleasant boat wakes from passing traffic. We were back in the land of the impatient and inconsiderate as the boats zipped back and forth along the channel. The ICW around Sea Isle City was particularly shallow and we had to continuously watch our depth. Taking some areas especially slow, we plowed through an area of only 2 feet at one point and churned up a lot of sand and mud. We saw more than one boat not paying attention run hard aground that afternoon and they were left waiting for the tide to change and lift them off the bottom.

Because of the depth issues and not wanting to suck up any more sand and mud into the already overworked engines, we turned out the Ocean City Inlet and into open water. The conditions on the ocean were much more manageable with 2 foot rollers than constantly trying to avoid the rude and inexperienced boaters so I was more than compliant with the Captain’s decision. It was a two hour ride to the Absecon Inlet and Atlantic City. Setting the anchor across from Harrah’s Casino in Brigitine Cove, the city looked pretty deserted. The skyline was lit up and the ferris wheel spinning, but, as we looked through the binoculars, there was by no way the amount of people on the boardwalk there should have been on a beautiful summer evening. We sat outside as the day turned into night and had a pre-birthday toast while the lights of the city danced off the water. Tomorrow was going to be a good day.

Unable to head to the Calvert Cliffs on our land visit, we were soon passing the wonders of nature’s hand carved out along the water. The cliffs emerged millions of years ago and tower over almost 30 miles of the Chesapeake Bay shoreline. It may have been in our favor not having time to make it to the cliffs as we read later that they were closed indefinitely due to erosion and cave-ins along the beach.

Today was thankfully a super calm day on the water. I was able to hang out on the bow in the sun for an hour or two while the Captain drove and he caught up on phone calls. When it was his time to relax, I turned on some tunes and navigated us toward St. Michaels across the bay. St. Michaels was a colonial town known for ship building and oystering as well as supporting the tobacco growing industry back in the day. Anchoring on the Eastern Bay off Navy Point, we settled in for a quiet night just around sunset as cruisers honked their horns to signify the end of another great day on the water.

It was raining when we woke up so I made some breakfast and we went ashore around 10:30. St. Michaels was an idyllic waterfront community both picturesque and quaint with many shops and restaurants complimented by a vast variety of boats scattered about the harbor and in the marinas. I had been on the lookout for crabs all along the Chesapeake and heard this was the best place where I could satisfy my desire to smash the crustaceans with a mallet. We walked everywhere that afternoon and, to my dismay, we found no restaurants which had crab on the menu…Covid had once again thrown a wrench in my plans. We were by no way deterred and headed over to St. Michaels Bistro for Happy Hour and split some appetizers while toasting to our adventures. Most of the establishments had outdoor seating areas set up on the property so we ordered a flight at East Coast Brewing and then had a wine slushie at St. Michaels Winery before going to tour the Classic Motor Museum located in the Mill District. I had been dragging my feet getting there all afternoon as looking at cars was not on the top of my list of activities, but the Captain put in a rare request that had nothing to do with consignment stores so I was willing to comply. In the end, I am glad we spent the time to tour the exhibits of the non-profit museum. We were given a private tour of the Exhibit Barn as the gentleman who was our guide gave us a glimpse into the history behind the classic cars, trucks, motorcycles and even a vintage fire truck on loan inside.

It was dark already by the time we arrived at St. Michaels Marina for dinner at The Crab and Steak House…I figured we couldn’t go wrong since crab was in the name. And, although I was disappointed by not being able to indulge in a bucket of crabs in this 1830s renovated oyster shed, the grilled flounder I ordered was delicious and Duane was equally happy with his shrimp platter. Walking along the waterfront under the moonlight we arrived at the dinghy dock and took a leisurely ride back to the boat.

It was almost the Captain’s birthday and we planned to be in New Jersey to celebrate with friends as the summer was winding down. The weather was changing unfavorably next week potentially making our trip across the Delaware Bay in the next few days not a pleasant ride, so we decided to stick to our schedule and head out the next afternoon. Unable to have brunch at Awful Arthur’s, we stopped by the side door to order their famous Bloody Mary’s to go and meander along the streets lined with historic homes and buildings.

It was sunny and humid as we rode out on the Chesapeake Bay that afternoon crossing back over to head into Annapolis Harbor. Container ships were plentiful all along the route as were the sailboats out enjoying a gorgeous afternoon. We hooked up to a mooring in the harbor and went ashore leaving the dinghy along the wall off 4th Street. We were hoping to see Chuck and Maggie on Timbuctoo as they were getting repair work and painting done in the area, but their boat was hauled out too far down the river for us to travel to on our bikes. We did make plans to meet Wayne, who Duane had been speaking to on the Trojan forum, for dinner at the Boatyard Bar and Grill. Sitting at a high top table outside on the deck, the boys discussed their boats and I enjoyed a tuna burger and listened to the band. Heading back to the boat early in the evening, we planned on getting up early to be able to explore all of Annapolis in the one full day we were in town.

We didn’t really have a set itinerary and I was heading toward anything that stuck out along the skyline. Our first sighting was St. Anne’s Episcopal Church in Church Circle. This was the first church in Annapolis founded in 1692. Wars and fires destroyed most of the historic structure, but, in 1858, the current church was constructed utilizing a portion of the original tower which stands prominent over the landscape today.

The Government House, which has been the primary home to the governor for the last 145 years, is said to be the heart of the state’s history with magnificent furnishings, paintings and artifacts that depict the social and political life of the past and present. It is here where dignitaries are entertained walking through the historic halls filled with art collections and portraits which piece together the significant roles ultimately responsible for the shaping of Maryland. The Maryland State House is across the street and included in the U.S. National Register of Historic places as the oldest U.S. state capitol still being occupied by the government for legislative practices. It also has the notable distinction of being topped with the largest wooden dome in the country constructed without the use of nails.

In Old Town Annapolis there was a stretch of homes dubbed “Rainbow Row.” Just like Charleston, these townhouses lined Main Street in a variety of pastel colors. Unlike Charleston, the colonial homes had quaint front porches and were less of a tourist attraction. The rest of the historic district was a mix of shops and restaurants along cobblestone streets with state buildings scattered about. We walked over to the US Naval Academy after a late lunch to find out it was temporary closed to visitors due to the pandemic. The US Naval Academy is the second oldest United States service academy in the country and occupies the land of former Fort Severn. The cadets were scheduled to have the customary mid-day formation and we had been hoping to see some pomp and circumstance.

A visit to the Chart House for Happy Hour was on the Captain’s must do stops that afternoon and, since the Naval Academy visit fell through, there was no time like the present. After, we decided to take Baby Belle on a spin around the harbor for sunset before we tied her back up along the waterfront and went to dinner at Mason’s Lobster Roll…for, you guessed it…lobster rolls. Though small in size, the capital city proved to be a definite highlight along the Chesapeake.

Letting the mooring loose in the morning, we drove out onto the Severn River and hit the convergence with the Chesapeake Bay soon after. The bay was slightly choppy, but nothing notable to stress about, except for the biting flies which had found us again. We were anchored in Fairlee Creek in Rock Hall early that afternoon. We could hear explosions in the distance from the military exercises being conducted at the Aberdeen Proving Grounds which were slightly north of our location. Taking the dinghy to the beach we took off our separate ways to collect oyster shells and sort through the abundance of driftwood. Duane would have been ecstatic if he could have filled Baby Belle to the brim with everything he gathered and just left me at the beach, but I reasoned with him to choose his best pieces as we still had about a month before we were home. One month…it was so surreal to think our trip was almost complete. Heading back to the boat about 20 pounds heavier, we left the driftwood outside to dry in the sun. I opened a chilled bottle of wine and set out to make some dinner as we unwound the rest of the evening on the bow enjoying the solitude of the anchorage.

There was a stronger current getting out of Fairlee Creek in the morning and we used both engines to push through. Navigating to Turkey Point and onto the Elk River, a tidal tributary of the Chesapeake Bay, we continued on Maryland’s Eastern shore toward Chesapeake City. It was a beautiful sunny day and we anchored outside the Chesapeake Inn in Engineer’s Cove and were preparing to drop the dinghy when we noticed two boats getting ready to depart the City Dock. The Captain was scrambling to start the engines to get over there and tie up before another boat came along that he almost didn’t wait for me to get the anchor up. There was a small fee to tie up for the night and it was much more preferable and convenient to be at the dock when spending the day on shore. This was our last stop in Maryland and we wanted to make the most of the few hours we had left in the Chesapeake. We walked over to pay the fee and the gentleman inside seemed taken aback that we would even think about entering the office. Through the closed door with a mask on, he asked us to put our money in an envelope that was in the mail box and slide it under the door. We have met people up and down the coast dealing with the virus, but this was a little much. The Victorian town was abundant with colorful homes and buildings all along Main Street and Bohemia Avenue which seemed to be where all the action was. Restored 18th and 19th century homes, bed and breakfasts and boutiques gave the historic village its charm and we were soon enamoured with the area.

One of our fellow Loopers lived in the area and was the Harbor Host. Foster took time out of his day to stop by the boat and chat about his experience on the Loop, living on his boat and about the highlights of the small town. Foster was a extremely personable guy and left us with much food for thought as we were on the tail end of our travels. We always enjoy reading his two cents on the forum and we were happy to have been able to put a face to the witty comments.

Here is where my day got exponentially better…passing by the Tap Room I saw a sign outside which read “All You Can Eat Crabs.” I couldn’t hold in my excitement as I ran in to inquire about the special and was assured I would be given a mallet and a bib. Duane saw my face when I returned outside and he knew this is where we will be spending the next few hours at least. Needless to say, I was in my glory. In 2 1/2 hours I was able to smash and eat 26 delectable crabs seasoned perfectly with Old Bay and take some to go for dinner tomorrow. He thought the whole process was too much work and just watched as I plowed through the endless mound. Emerging from the restaurant around 8:30, we had enough time to grab a drink at the Tiki Bar and hear the last two songs from the band. The trip to Chesapeake City had definitely ended on a high note.

We had to leave the dock just after sunrise to take advantage of the favorable current on the Delaware River. It was an exceptionally calm day and 20 minutes into the trip we crossed the border into Delaware. The 14 mile stretch of the Chesapeake and Delaware (C&D) Canal had a controlling depth of 35 feet and was 450 feet wide. We passed under 6 bridges along the canal and in two hours we were turning onto the Delaware Bay at Reedy Point and moving on to the Delaware River. The only notable landmark along the way, besides a few barges in the distance, was the Domes Salem Nuclear Power Plant. Not my thing, the Captain explained the control systems of the plant and what kept it online as I sort of listened and calculated the remaining distance to our destination. Our time in Delaware was short lived as we were being pushed a whopping 10 mph and soon crossed the border into New Jersey. The current was changing against us by mid-day so we would not be able to make it into Cape May before dark and choose to anchor in Cohansey Cove. It was only around noon so I took a book to the bow and sat in the sun pretending I was on the beach. Two hours later our quiet anchorage suddenly turned rough and bouncy as the current changed and I had to crank up the chain so we could re-anchor further up inside the cove.

The night was uneventful as we busied ourselves with small projects. I made dinner and changed the sheets on the bed as the Captain was working on the air conditioner leak. It is the simple times like these we are both going to miss once we returned home to the real world. Besides my navigating us from place to place and the Captain keeping us afloat, we had not much to worry about and just relished the extraordinary opportunity we have been given.

The sun was finally peaking out and there was a cool breeze as we motored over to the Portsmouth Boating Yard to get some gas and a pump out. Out on the Elizabeth River a dredge was hauling out a pleasure boat…looked to us like a 45 foot cabin cruiser which had seen better days. Huge Battleships lined the docks of the naval yard and we even spied a submarine at the Norfolk Naval Station where the USNS Comfort was based. The Comfort was deployed to New York City during the height of the pandemic to assist with the overflow expected from the hospitals. Luckily, the hospital ship was not utilized as expected and returned to port in Norfolk.

The Chesapeake Bay was calm with a one foot swell all afternoon. Dolphins were frolicking in the water all along the way and I drove as the Captain tried to get them on camera. One jumped up right under the bow and he was so startled that him and the phone almost went overboard. I was thinking of strapping him to the rail as he had done for me in rough waters on Lake Michigan.

Tying up for the afternoon at Riverwalk Landing Piers in Yorktown, we disembarked and took a walk along Main Street viewing the perfectly preserved historic Revolutionary homes. A few of the colonial homes even had the canon balls still embedded in their brick facades as a reminder of the destruction and devastation of the war. Thomas Nelson Jr. was a prominent figure and one of the signers of the Declaration of Independence and his family’s manor was a national landmark . It was surreal to imagine the area during wartime as now it was so peaceful and lush with greenery. As Yorktown held a prominent role in the Civil War for both sides due in part to its strategic location, it was the last major battle of the Revolution where Cornwallis surrendered to Washington that was commemorated by the Yorktown Victory Monument and Battlefield. The monument stood tall perched on a bluff overlooking the York River on one side and Surrender Field about 2 miles away on the other.

After our self taught history lesson, we hopped on the trolley back to the beach and had an early dinner at the Yorktown Pub. We had planned to move the boat to one of the moorings out on the river for the night, thinking the reviews of the steel balls were exaggerated. To the contrary, if anything, the reviews downplayed the “wrecking” balls as they were jagged metal and large enough to secure a cruise ship. Banging against one of these all night would definitely do some damage and possibly sink our lovely home. Without hesitation we moved along and anchored in Point of Rocks for a quiet evening as the sun was setting.

After leaving the York River, we were back on the Chesapeake Bay the following morning. Another calm travel day through the bay, we dropped anchor in the Jackson River right outside the Deltaville Marina. Jackson River was situated between the Rappahannock River on the North end and the Piankatank River on the South. The weather was much more pleasant these days and we jumped at the opportunity to anchor out when we could and enjoy the peace and solitude after a long day of traveling and exploring. We purchased an all day pass from the marina which included loaner bikes so, after Baby Belle was secured to the dinghy dock, we pedaled off to take a look around. The Maritime Museum was closed so we took a spin around the grounds of the park where Duane was excited to pose with his dolphin friends. And, of course, no trip to Virginia would be complete without a picture in front of the LOVE signs in Holly Point Nature Park. Making a pit stop to rest our legs, we sat outside and had wings at the Deltaville Tap and Raw Bar before meandering along and landing back at the marina. Locking up the bikes, we changed into our swimsuits, grabbed a bottle of wine and took a refreshing dip in the pool with a spectacular view of the river. The bath house was immaculate and we both enjoyed a nice hot shower before spending the rest of the evening on the boat in the protected anchorage with only the sound of crickets echoing off the shore.

Duane has a relationship with consignment shops similar to one that a dog has with fire hydrants. I am not sure if I mentioned that before… He can sniff one out no matter where we are and can’t help but mark his territory. Nauti Nells was no different. Borrowing the courtesy car, he was wagging his tail in anticipation and I barely put the car in park before he jumped out and was heading in the door. The wind and surf were predicted to pick up later that afternoon so we wanted to be ready to go by noon so he was on a time clock. He did not pick up as many treasures as he had hoped, but of course the experience was priceless. I grabbed the bag with our new fender holder and some zippers and we hurried back to the marina.

We drove out to the Piankatank River and were soon faced with 4 to 5 foot waves over the bow which were more than uncomfortable and nerve-racking. The Captain was forced (mostly by my death stares) to fire up both engines and raise the throttle to 8.5 mph to power through the waves and make the trip a little smoother. The conditions calmed after about two hours of terrorizing my senses and I soon loosened my grip on the rail. After all these months you would think I would not mind the feeling like we were teetering in a clock tower being hit with a sledgehammer…really??? The ride on the Chesapeake Bay the rest of the afternoon was much more manageable and just like that, around Smith’s Point, we were in Maryland. We dropped anchor next to the beach at Point Lookout off the Potomac River which was the southernmost location in Maryland. There were no mosquitoes so we were able to sit outside and enjoy the warm weather, but because of the sea nettles there would be no swimming this evening. The bright hues of the sunset lit up the anchorage for some time as we relaxed well into the evening as the stars emerged.

The sunrise was equally as spectacular and I was soon pulling up the anchor and we were back out on the Potomac River. I had been reading about the precarious conditions that were typical of this area as the mouth of the Potomac was extremely wide giving the wind a fetch of over 15 miles from the Bay producing some of the roughest water we have seen since our trip south into the Bahamas. It was a bouncy ride, slightly more bearable than the day before and, as we banged up and down, I eyed the radar arch praying it held up to the pressure. The Captain was back to singing the theme from Gillian’s Island so I knew he was not the least bit worried. I, on the other hand, had nightmares of the bolt on the radar arch snapping again and the whole thing crashing down on top of us. Pulling into Spring Cove Marina in Solomons, MD around 11, we barely were able to squeeze ourselves into the narrow slip. Once we were situated, the Captain grabbed a snack, packed our travel bag which consisted mostly of bicycle repair items just in case, and we made our way to the Annmarie Sculpture Garden. The grounds of the garden were beautifully manicured. The works of art were very eclectic some demanding an acquired taste in order to appreciate as most we thought of as extremely odd.

Biking on we stopped next at the Calvert Marine Museum and Drum Point Lighthouse. The times available for tours at the exhibition hall did not work out with our schedule and we parked the bikes to walk around the outdoor attractions. Passing the Riverwalk Pavillion off the Patuxent River, we made our way to the end of Solomons Island Road landing at the Tiki Bar for some refreshments before stopping at The Pier to sit out on the deck along the waterfront and take in the view from a different perspective. The Bugeye Grill was on our way home and we were told not to miss the Happy Hour oyster special as oyster cultivation was a long standing tradition on the island. We came to find out that bugeye was the nickname given to those in the 1800s who dredged the Chesapeake Bay for the oysters. The locally owned restaurant had a welcoming feel and we ordered two dozen oysters to wash down with the local brews.

We did all our boat chores the following morning as the exterior of our waterfront apartment had been neglected long enough. As Duane washed her from bow to stern, I did the laundry and filled the water tank and jugs. The last thing left to do before departure was to clean the poop tank and I made sure I stayed in the laundry room and folded the sheets ever so perfectly before I made my way back to the dock. Once Bella Donna, along with ourselves, were shiny and refreshed, we took in the lines and squeezed ourselves out of the tight spot heading back out onto the river moving North to see more of the colonial areas of the Chesapeake.

We were soon crossing the Abelmarle Sound, which could be treacherous, but today we had fair winds and following seas…every boater’s dream. We were warned extensively about the shoaling on our approach to the marina, and the storm made the terrain of the area much more unpredictable, so we did not deviate from the detailed course we were given when passing each buoy into the breakwater. We were happy to be coming in from the North as the Oregon Inlet, and its ever-changing geography, was reported to be a dangerous area to traverse especially after the recent storm. Unscathed, we pulled in to slip #13 at the Manteo Waterfront Marina on Roanoke Island and were greeted by Mike Glover, the Harbor Host. Mike was very informative and graciously lent us his jeep for the two days we would be on the island.

We decided to make the most of the opportunity and drove to the Wrights Brothers Memorial in Kill Devil Hills. Originally within the confines of Kitty Hawk, we walked the grounds and along the very path the brothers took launching the first flight into history in 1903 after extensive research and painstaking experiments. The winds, high sand dunes and unobstructed topography is what enticed them to this very place over one hundred years ago. We were in awe of the sheer will and determination they had to make their dream come to fruition as we heard of the harsh conditions they lived in and the laborious trials of the power glider.

This was a typical beach town with surf shops and seafood shacks lining the shore and we took a walk on the sand taking it all in. One could surely get lost in the beauty and splendor of the moment looking out over the vast expanse of the Atlantic Ocean. Mike had invited us back to Pirate’s Cove Marina where him, his wife, Beth, and son, Griffin, resided. Jumping back in the jeep we rolled down all the windows to breathe in the crisp ocean air and made our way back toward the marina. Pirates Cove was the quintessential sport fishing locale of the Outer Banks. Mike took us for a spin around the grounds in his golf cart and we made our way to the docks to tour his beautiful Hatteras and see the Billfish tournament in full swing. Up and down the docks, crews were polishing and washing down their boats and getting their lines ready to go out and score the biggest catch. It was a frenzy of activity we hadn’t seen in some time and we were excited to be in the midst of all the excitement.

Heading down to Nags Head Beach the next morning, we had a chance to relax barefoot in the sand for a few hours and take a refreshing dip in the ocean before we left for Wanchese to meet Mike for lunch at O’Neal’s Sea Harvest restaurant. Located right off the shores of the harbor, the fish could not be any fresher than at this family run establishment. After an extremely satisfying meal, we went to visit the Roanoke Island Festival Park and view the Elizabeth II. The 69 foot vessel was a replica of the sailing ship used to transport the Lost Colony to the Outer Banks in 1587 to only mysteriously disappear three years later. Walking through the shops of downtown Manteo we discussed the conspiracy theories written about the fate of the 115 colonists who seemed to disappear into thin air and were leaning toward the assertion that they probably met their end at the hands of the natives of the island who pounced in the dead of the night. Stopping in the pop-up winery –Vineyards On the Scuppernong –we had a tasting of the sweet wines made from the state fruit of North Carolina and purchased a bottle of the blackberry blend to enjoy on the deck. Walking down a few blocks, we made our way to the distillery everyone was raving about to sample some of the Kill Devil Hills Rum. Duane ranked it up there with one of his favorites, The Kraken, and we left heavy with two bottles for the ride North. A fitting way to end our stay on the island, we had dinner at the Lost Colony Brewery in the heart of downtown Manteo. The fare at the brewery was as enjoyable as the local brews and we were grateful for the time to unwind.

Our return trip across the Abelmarle Sound was thankfully as calm and uneventful as our first crossing. We left early to avoid the approaching thunderstorms predicted by noon and were well passed Camden Point and onto the North River when the rain started. Motoring along the North Carolina cut, we tied up on the bulkhead of Coinjock Marina early in the afternoon in a light drizzle. Two black Labrador Retrievers guarded the entrance of the marina office and they were total pushovers after a few scratches behind the ears. Grabbing a cold beer from the tap behind the front desk, the dogs settled in at our feet as we chatted with the guys inside and placed our order for the famous prime rib dinner at the Sand Bar. Billed by many boaters as the best prime rib on the Intracoastal, I had time to shower and freshen up before our meal was ready. The Captain had higher expectations for the steak than I did. As I thought it was a delicious piece of meat, he was a harsher critic as nothing would ever beat a New York City Capital Grill steak for that price. Sitting at an outside table after our meal, we listened to the live band before walking back to the boat to prepare for our travels the next day leading us into Virginia and through the last lock of the trip.

Out on the Bay, our route would navigate us through the Virginia Cut. Duane had been against traveling through the Dismal Swamp all along, but Isaias made the ultimate decision for us, closing the route entirely as it was virtually impassable at the moment. The Currituck Sound lead us onto North Landing River and directly to the Albemarle and Chesapeake Canal and into another state — “Welcome to Virginia.” For the next twenty miles or so there was a series of bridges we would have to schedule passage through as well as the Great Bridge Lock adjacent to the drawbridge which was used to regulate the tide height between the Ablemarle Sound and the Chesapeake Bay. The first few bridges went seamlessly, but having to speed up to make the Great Bridge Draw, the port engine overheated and thick smoke streamed from the side vent. My heart dropped and I thought we had to abandon ship. After lunging to grab our “Go Bag,” the Captain asked me to hold the wheel and he rushed to the engine room. Hearing the word “steam” helped me calm down somewhat, but I thought we were dead in the water as the starboard engine was not a reliable backup at the present time. Duane came back up to the fly bridge after putting the old engine belt back on and said we could make it to Norfolk where he would be able to make the needed repairs. It felt like forever before the bridge opened and we made it under and into the lock which would drop us about two feet. Very anticlimactic after the 107 locks we have passed through over the last 13 months. I was pretty quiet the rest of the ride glancing every so often over the side to make sure we were not overheating again. Now on the Chesapeake Bay, we anchored in Hospital Point in Norfolk–Mile 0 on the ICW. It was now early evening and we thought it was easier to go into the marina in the morning.

Duane changed the belt on the port engine the next morning and cleaned up the water in the engine room. Pulling anchor we crossed over to Waterside Marina and tied up at the dock.

Relieved to be stationary for a few days, I suggested to Duane that he take a break from engine repairs and we walk to town. Norfolk was the biggest city we had been to in a while and we noticed how different the virus was being treated the further North we went—which basically meant a lot more closures and restrictions. The Nauticus Maritime Museum was closed but we grabbed a bite at Wisky situated next to the USS Wisconsin. The massive ship dwarfed all the vessels in the harbor with the anchors themselves each weighing 30,000 pounds. Moving down Freemason Street, we toured the historical homes and walked into the Old Norfolk Library looking for a bathroom. The front door was wide open so we had no way of knowing that this was now a private residence until we made our way upstairs opening a door into a bedroom and were greeted by two barking dogs. The architecture was astonishing and the stairway sprawling and I was amazed that someone was actually able to call this their home. The woman who came out to collect the dogs was extremely understanding and personable filling us in on the history of the property. We thanked her for her time and apologized for the intrusion. Making our way out to the street, we both burst out laughing. Duane said we were lucky we weren’t shot on the spot. I thought she should have just locked her doors.

The Freemason Abbey was a restaurant built in an old historic 19th century church. The original stain glass added to the ambiance of the interior and we ordered an appetizer and drink at the bar. Making our way over to view the Basilica of Saint Mary, we continued our tour by hitting Circuit Social to play video games and imbibe in the self-serve beer wall.

Gershwin’s Piano Bar was an unexpected find. The eclectic decor, live lounge music and time period appropriate dressed wait staff made this speakeasy a great draw. Add in the skilled mixologist who made us a spectacular old fashioned accompanied by exceptional truffle fries, this place was quickly becoming a favorite. We had plans to go to Granby Street Pizza for dinner, but agreed to fit Gershwin’s in our schedule once more before we left.

It was pouring rain the whole next day and our efforts to walk downtown were thwarted more than once. The weather cleared up enough around 5pm that we were able to throw on our jackets and walk to the Brick Anchor Brew House before the storm got worse again. True to his word, Duane took me to Gershwin’s for a delicious dinner accompanied by some entertaining jazz music.

There was a small craft advisory the following day with winds in excess of 15 knots. The marina allowed us to stay in our slip most of the afternoon and Paul, who Duane had been speaking with from the Trojan forum, stop by the boat for a tour and to hear about our trip aboard the 35 year old boat. After he left, the winds had subsided and we rented lime scooters and took off to the breweries. It took me a while to get a hang of the scooter and at 10 mph it seemed like I was traveling on the autobahn. I was soon steady enough to confidently turn corners easily and first we zipped over to Smart Mouth Brewery and then to Bench Top Brewing. On the way back to the marina we scooted through downtown Norfolk’s Neon District and Plum Point Park for a quick glimpse of the diverse landscape of the city. Returning the scooters to the waterfront with not a scratch on them or myself, we readied the boat to move back to Hospital Point for the evening. Moving on in the morning, Yorktown would be our second stop on the Chesapeake.

Russell from Indigo II, who weathered the storm right beside us, helped untie our lines the next morning and off we went. With predictions of 3 to 5 foot seas we decided to take the calmer scenic route to Cape Lookout Bight as La Buono Vida throttled up his new engine and left us in the dust. We had a comfortable ride and I was happy that, when it did rain again, the bimini top was now patched up and the annoying drips on my head would be no more. Heading passed Shakleford Island we saw Susan and Robert in the distance scoping out the anchorage and idled up to the area. With both boats secure, we lowered the dinghy and I tied my float to the back as the Captain pulled me to shore…my feet splashing in the water.

The four of us took a scenic tour of the Cape Lookout National Seashore on Baby Belle stopping at the southern-most barrier island, Shackleford Banks, to see the wild horses grazing. We were able to get up close and personal and I was relieved that these wild stallions were much more fit and clean than the ones we had visited earlier in the trip. Taking Baby Belle over to the lighthouse, we beached her and climbed up the sand dunes to get a better view of the structure standing 163 feet tall in the air. The rest of the afternoon was equally as relaxing as we collected sea shells along the shore and floated around in the pristine waters. Susan and Robert had us aboard for a few drinks to watch the sunset and we promised to keep in touch as we continued North and they ventured South toward their home in the Florida Keys. I had defrosted some yellow tail which Rhonda had given us from their catch in the Bahamas and we enjoyed the fish reminiscing over our failed fishing ventures but how we had so much fun trying to hook the big one…well most of the time. I was still a little jaded about losing the king mackerel on my birthday.

Pulling anchor just after sunrise, we waved farewell to Robert and Susan…and the horses. Sticking our nose out the inlet, we took a deep breath and went all in. This would be our first time in open ocean water since the Bahamas. The trip was bumpy but definitely bearable as I threw out the rod hoping to break our streak…to no avail. Circling back through Beaufort, we took the Newport River up to Core Creek which eventually lead us to the Neuse River and our destination on Smith Creek–Blackwell Point Marina. Located in Oriental, the sailing capital of North Carolina, this was a family run marina nestled on a quaint no frills dock. The family dog, Jack, hurried down to the boat with a very friendly welcome. My cousin Matt was driving from Raleigh for a quick visit with his son Adam so I cleaned up Duane’s trail of laundry and sat outside enjoying the breeze. While Matt and I caught up, Adam fished off the dock with Jack right by his side and I hoped he had better luck than I was having. We must not have the fishing vibe as he came up empty as well. Walking over to Toucan Grill and Fresh Bar, Matt generously treated us to a delicious dinner as Duane told his most entertaining stories from the past year on the water….almost all of which poked fun at me. It was great to see both of them as the virus had ruined most of our plans for friends and family to come visit as we made our way up the coast toward home. Fellow Loopers had also hurried home once the virus became so widespread so we were faced with traveling the remainder of our trip on our own. I guess it will be docktails for two going forward.

Waving goodbye to Jack, we shoved off and it was a super calm morning on the river. A few miles beyond Goose Creek we spotted our destination –RE Mayo Seafood–where we were filling up as well as seeing what fresh catch they had available. As we approached we were glad that it was early in the day and we did not have to spend the night here as some Loopers had been forced to do when it was too dark to move on. The docks were dilapidated and most of the pilings were snapped in half or at such a precarious angle that we would definitely damage the boat trying to secure ourselves for a long period of time. The Captain found a stretch he was happy with for our short stay and I tried to get the line over the cracked wood and secure us without poking my eye out. A boy came to help with the stern lines and we soon learned he worked the fuel pumps as he was only 14 years old and too young to go out on the fishing boats. Dressed in dirty jeans and shirtless, he was chewing tobacco and grabbed for one of the hoses as I yelled we needed gas… He stopped, changed his mind and then grabbed for the other hose. He still did not look convinced that he had chosen correctly and proceeded to taste the liquid just to make sure before he smiled and handed over the nozzle. Not sure that was the safest way to determine what was going into the tank, Duane filled up one of the gas containers first and made his own determination. Once the boat was full, we ventured inside the office to pay careful to avoid the missing boards on the dock and stepping around the fish guts in my flip flops. Taking us into the “ice chest” the stench of fish was overwhelming and we picked out some fresh trout, shrimp, scallops and deviled crab. Back on the boat, we shoved off on our way to the Pamlico River with thunder and lightning on the horizon. We were hoping the storm did not materialize into anything substantial before we arrived in Belhaven, but it was not a good omen when the temperature dropped significantly over the next hour as the wind picked up and there was now a light chop on the water.

Turning off the Pungo River into the Belhaven Town Marina breakwater, we headed for the east bulkhead to tie up. The dock master was super friendly and was one of the marina owners. He took especially good care of the facilities and the grounds making this one of our favorite stops thus far up the East coast. Isaias had caused some extensive damage on the waterfront lifting some of the docks from the pilings and they were constantly working on repairs the whole time we were there. Two full blocks of stores and restaurants were closed due to flooding from the storm and surge. That is significant considering the town was only four blocks wide. We headed to one of the only open restaurants, Georgie’s Sport and Oyster Bar, along with practically the entire town, for some dinner. The place had a quaint upscale diner vibe and we scored two stools at the counter. The seafood was absolutely incredible and the people watching even better. We had the pleasure of meeting a 95 year old woman coming to pick up an order who everyone referred to as the “Cookie Lady.” She told us tales of the small town and her life here which gave us a new prospective on southern living. After our meal, we took a stroll around to see some of the homes and ended back at the marina just before sunset. The marina office doubled as a bar so we purchased a bottle of wine and sat on the deck overlooking the river enjoying the evening. Duane had some projects to complete on the boat in the morning so we decided to stay another day and take advantage of the amenities. I threw in some laundry (free), took a long hot shower (immaculate) and then sat in the sun on the deck reading (peaceful) keeping out of his way once the tools were scattered all around the salon. I felt hives coming on every time he had a “small” project and proceeded to tear apart our living space which I had just meticulously straighten up. The day was winding down once all our chores were finished so we started an impromptu Happy Hour at the marina bar before heading to a local recommendation–Fish Hook Cafe —for another delicious meal. We wonder why we have each gained about ten pounds since we set out on our journey.

Lingering around most of the morning appreciating our last moments at the marina, Gregg and Brad helped us shove off around noon and we were soon sweating under the stifling summer sun. The air was stagnant as we snaked our way from the Pungo River to the Alligator River and onto Winn Bay. The bay was littered with crab pots so we took care to weave in and out of the obstructions while fanning each other and spraying cold water on our faces. We were planning to stop at Sandy Point that evening but first had to wait for the Alligator River Bridge opening and ended up anchoring well after sunset. At that point, we were being bombarded by crazy little black bugs and quickly retreated into the boat and sealed everything up tight. Every fan was running and I took a cold shower not only to cool down, but to get the bugs out of my hair. I threw together a meal with some of the fresh shrimp and trout and we settled in for the evening. It was actually a very comfortable night and we both slept soundly to the slight slap of the water against the hull.

Waking up to an amazing sunrise, I was shocked the little bugs were still milling around. The Captain was slightly amused that I dressed covered from head to toe with my goggles on to go crank up the anchor. I was elated that we were heading to the Outer Banks today. I had become resolved to the fact that Isaias had ruined my plans to make it there once we had moved further north to try and escape its path, but we were now an easy ride to Manteo on the north end of the banks. With no storms in the forecast and the waters predicted to be calm the next few days, the Captain said it was a go…and off we went on another adventure.

The banks were lined with rocks and beautiful beaches as we road along the river. We arrived into the Old Yacht Basin at Southport Marina a little after 10am and were quickly tied up to the face dock by the marina office as we were only staying one night. A quick in and out…it was a perfect location. Hot and humid was the typical weather forecast these days, but the occasional thunderstorm that unexpectedly pop up was not in the Captain’s (my personal meteorologist) predictions for today, so I hung the rain jackets on the fly bridge to dry out. On July 23rd, the National Hurricane Center pinpointed a tropical wave off the coast of Africa which has been developing into possibly the next hurricane. It was too soon to tell the path the storm would take, so we decided to keep pushing North and, because of this decision, only had a day to explore the area.

Robert and Kay Creech were the Harbor Hosts at Southport and I had sent a text a few days earlier for recommendations during our short stay. Their boat, C-Life, was docked at the marina and Robert told us to stop by the house right up the road on our way to town. Their Victorian home had a prefect waterfront view from the front porch and, as we looked through our welcome package which included a stick painted red on one end and green on the other to keep on the control panel (which I for one appreciated very much) reminding us what side the buoy should be on traveling up the ICW, they told us stories of their life in this quaint historic town. They were full of great information and provided us with helpful maps for our walking tour. Heading down to River Walk, we saw many preserved landmarks that symbolized the city of Southport— one being the Historic Pilot House. Dubbed “Hollywood East,” we were surprised by the fact that 20+ movies and TV shows had filmed on location in the town over the years and, after a quick tasting at the Silver Coast Winery and then picking up 2 lbs of salt water taffy, we walked around to see some of the highlights and enjoy the sweets. We strolled by where I Know What You Did Last Summer and Dawson’s Creek were filmed and made our way to Fishy Fishy Cafe which was the location of the Stowaway Tavern in Revenge. Walking on Bay Street along the Cape Fear River, we stopped by the Waterfront Park and laughed at the fact that the water skiing scene from Weekend at Bernie’s was filmed right here. The Captain was not as intrigued by the Hollywood “East” Walk of Fame as I was, so we made our way back to the docks to have dinner. I had my hopes up for a delicious meal at Provision Company, but we had failed to make a reservation and there was a two hour wait. Idling up to the bar at The Frying Pan to discuss our options, the Captain was in no mood to wait and the bartender talked us into some fried shrimp baskets and ice cold beer. After dinner we were able to catch an amazing sunset on the City Pier before heading back to the boat.

We had a comfortable night with the A/C pumping and didn’t get moving until almost 9:30am the next morning. Cleaning the poop tank was on the Captain’s agenda that morning so I left him to his business and I organized the cabin and planned our day. Out on Cape Fear after leaving the basin, Duane joked that he could let out a line and pull me on the tube reenacting the scene from Weekend at Bernie’s. I voted against that idea and settled in for the ride safely in my First Mate’s chair.

That day was full of excitement. We saw a dredge boat in action grabbing huge amounts of sand with it’s monstrous claw. There were tugs traveling all along the way managing their wide loads. In Snow’s Cut we saw a huge alligator but it was gone before I had my camera ready. A storm was hot on our trail and the Captain throttled up to 14 mph in an effort to get in front of it. We were still going 9 mph in the Black Mud Channel when two dolphins came alongside the boat to ride our wake. This event was always a highlight for Duane and he ran to the bow for a closer look. After going about 66 miles, we dropped anchor at 7pm in Mile Hammock Bay at Camp Lejeune hoping to catch some military maneuvers. A crazy electrical storm started a few hours later producing sensational brilliant flashes in the night sky for about thirty minutes straight. I had never experienced anything like that before and at first thought they were fireworks.

We could hear blasts in the distance and military exercises were beginning on shore by the time we woke up. We weren’t accustomed to the procedures and we set off by 7:15 that morning toward Morehead City. Our first oversight was not checking the conditions at the Onslow Beach Bridge. It is a single pivot swing bridge operated on the US Navy base and will not open if the wind gusts are 30 mph. Luckily the wind meter used by the bridge operator was malfunctioning and, being an exceptionally windy morning, he asked us what wind speed we were recording. The highest we had seen on our meter was 26 mph but we downplayed it somewhat as it was very close to the limit which would have delayed us indefinitely if he had chosen not to open that hour. Not 50 yards passed the bridge we were stopped by a military boat. This was our second oversight for not checking when the live fire exercises begin and end. We were told the ICW was currently closed and we were required to anchor and wait for the military to give us the all clear to proceed. The young cadets did not have much more information and said the exercises may go on until noon —4 hours from now. This was not what we wanted to hear as it was a long travel day to Morehead City and this delay would put us there well after dark fighting a strong current into the dock. Fortunately, the powers that be were in our favor again, and at 9:15 one of the cadets yelled over that we could proceed to the next check point as the exercises were halted until 10 am. Once we pulled anchor we had roughly 40 minutes to get 8 miles out of the firing zone. Fingers crossed, I cranked in the chain as fast as I could and we took off before they changed their minds after realizing how slow we actually travel. Thankfully we passed through without incident or witnessing any bullets whizzing by as we missed the time frame by at least 15 minutes. It was a slow go again with the current against us out on the Bogue Sound and we had Morehead City in our sights around 3:30 with plenty of light left in the day. As we we warned, there was a strong current pulling into the slips at the city dock, but the Captain maneuvered her in perfectly as Lee, the dock master, helped secure the lines much to the disappointment of the crowd waiting for some excitement at our expense. It had started to rain slightly so we grabbed our jackets and walked along the docks. Morehead City is known for its charter fishing and is the sight of the annual Big Rock Blue Marlin Fishing Tournament. Part of the Crystal Coast, the community was loaded with shops, boutiques and eateries serving up the best of the locally caught fresh ocean catch. I dragged Duane into some shops, coerced him into an olive oil tasting and a flight of beer at Tight Line Brewing before we ended the night with a delicious meal at Floyds 1921 on the outside porch. The rest of the evening was quiet as people roamed the waterfront and we enjoyed a glass of wine on the fly bridge. The next morning we went to the local Hardware Store to try and locate a gasket and struck up a conversation with the owner who was originally from Brooklyn, NY. It never ceases to amaze us at the hospitality afforded to us in our travels as he offered to drive us to the next town if we weren’t able to find what we were looking for. Luckily, he had what we needed and we were more than happy to give him the business. All the breakfast places were packed so I had to settle for a muffin and then, with Lee’s help pushing us off the dock, we were on our way across the harbor to the Town Creek Marina.

We had been keeping ourselves abreast of the storm situation and just found out that the tropical disturbance had now organized into Tropical Storm Isaias. And, to make matters worse, one of the projected paths was directly over our current location in Beaufort, NC.

Passing directly through the commercial area, the waterfront was being secured for the worst storm outcome which was predicted to arrive in the next few days. We were tied up on the outside of the face dock the first day at Town Creek, but moved to an inside slip the next morning as the water was getting rougher and we were being relentlessly slammed against the pilings. That first evening we had an early dinner at City Kitchen located at the marina and then had a cocktail at the Tiki Bar overlooking the water. Having an unparalleled waterfront view from our own home, we walked back down the dock and sat up on the fly bridge soaking it all in. On the boat next to us, Nick had just driven down from NJ for a visit and was waiting for his uncle, so we invited him to join us. Once his uncle arrived, we all hung out well into the evening as we were staying put in Town Creek until the storm passed…or that was our intention.

Now a full fledged hurricane with sustained winds of 85 mph or more, it was brought to our attention that, since we were transients, if a mandatory evacuation order was issued and boats were required to be hauled out, we would be forced to leave the marina. I was starting to get nervous but we had a few backup plans and we still had two or three days for things to change as the hurricane was still over the Caribbean. Walking downtown our first full day in Beaufort, the nautical vibe was overflowing in every shop and storefront. An iconic coastal town in love with fishing dating back over 300 hundred years, we set out on my personalized walking tour of the Historic district. Once we walked through the peaceful Old Burying Grounds, one of the oldest cemeteries in North Carolina, and stopped off at the historic Old Methodist Church, our tour would not be complete without a gander at the Hammock House which is said to be haunted . The oldest house in Beaufort dating back to 1700, the Hammock House was the home of the infamous pirate Blackbeard who hailed from the area.

Walking along the waterfront on Front Street we sat for a while at Graydon Paul Park to enjoy the view of Taylor Creek. Once again my tour schedule was slightly daunting for the Captain as it was well passed lunch time, so I let him pick the next stop. Once seated at Mezcalito Grill and Tequila Bar, we ordered nachos and some tacos and his face soon regained its color and he was no longer facing starvation. Hitting the Fishtowne Brew House before the walk back to the marina, we sampled some of the local craft brews. A tiny brewery with a welcoming vibe, we were pleased with our selections and extremely enjoyed the nautical ambiance. The sunset that evening was spectacular and almost blinding as we made our way back to the boat.

We had made our decision to move up South River to a Hurricane Hole, throw out all three anchors we had onboard and pray for the best. A mandatory evacuation order had been issued that morning and the marina had commenced the haul out program for their slip owners. Numerous calls around the area to find a marina which would take us in did not amount to anything and we were reassured by the locals that many had weathered previous hurricanes in the recommended anchorage. Planning to leave the following afternoon toward the river, we borrowed the courtesy car to get storm provisions and brick oven pizza at the Black Sheep. Over lunch we discussed our decision and agreed it was a safe option. We were both nervous and anxious as surviving a hurricane was not something we ever envisioned on the trip…but neither was snow in Kentucky and be battered in 6-8 foot seas and we made it out on the good end of those situations. Chatting with Susan and Robert on La Buono Vita they were explaining all their boat woes as they had been at the marina for a year getting repairs and now the hurricane was heading straight for us. They were being hauled out the next day and we explained our plans to anchor and hunker down and we wished each other luck.

Miraculously, right before we were set to depart the next afternoon, the hurricane weakened after making landfall on North Andros Island in the Bahamas and was downgraded to a tropical storm. We prayed for everyone on Andros as this was a monumental stop on our trip. With the mandatory evacuation order lifted, we were now permitted to stay at the marina. We both let out a sigh of relief as neither of us was ever too keen on being at anchor all alone facing the unknown wrath of mother nature. It was a gorgeous day…as they say, the calm before the storm, and with no where pressing to go any longer, we took the bikes for a leisurely ride down Front Street. Viewing some more of the homes dating back hundreds of years, we turned off at Oceanview Cemetery and ventured into Mill Whistle Brewing. A barn was set up on the grounds called the Oak Room allowing for social distancing and we sat down and had a cold drink on the hot summer day. Once back at the marina, we met up with Robert and Susan and, as they were curious about our trip, we filled them in on our continuing Loop adventure.

It was now August 3rd and the fifth day since we arrived in Beaufort. Tropical Storm Isaias was barreling through Florida and heading for us. The storm eventually strengthened back into a Cat 1 Hurricane, but there was no time to haul boats and, under safe harbor law, there was not enough time for us to safely relocate elsewhere so we were permitted to stay. We had every line we owned securing us to the dock like a spiderweb, the fenders tied on both sides from the bow to the stern and we hoisted Baby Belle onto the bow and secured her down. We removed the bimini top from the fly bridge and took all the cushions and bins into the salon. The marina had positioned a 50 foot boat on either side of us so we felt this was as safe as we were going to be. The upgraded state-of-the-art hardwood docks installed at the marina to dissipate the wave surge was also a comfort. We checked in with Robert and Susan and the couple on the sailboat next to us making sure everyone was set. We all agreed to have the VHF on channel 72 in case something happened and then let out the lines so we were floating in the middle of the slip and waited…and waited.

I was constantly watching the storm move North wreaking havoc on the Carolinas. Winds picked before midnight and maxed out on the meter at 45 mph. The howling sound was deafening and Baby Belle was soon banging uncontrollably against the hatch. Grabbing our head lamps, we radioed Susan and Robert to tell them we were going outside, and went to tighten the lines holding the dinghy down. It was pouring rain so hard we could hardly see and I held on to the side rails as long as I could and then pretty much crawled the rest of the way. Once back inside, I pulled towels out soaking up water from leaks I didn’t even know we had. The fenders were serving no purpose as the wind was so strong they were vertical most of the time and every so often slammed down against the boat before being airborne again. At one point a trawler at anchor broke free and was haplessly motoring around to keep from being pushed onshore. It was definitely going to be a long night for him. Thinking the storm was calming, Duane went up to the fly bridge to view the situation. It was around 2 am now and the rain had stopped. I went up to take a look with him and a gust of wind almost took us both off the boat. The wind had to be close to 70 mph and we retreated back into the cabin as fast as we could and locked the door. A few hours later, we had survived, Bella Donna did not have a scratch on her and we started to put everything back together. Pulling in the lines, we jumped on to the dock and we were happy that everyone else was in good spirits and weathered the night with little to no issues. Unfortunately, the trawler had lost his battle with the surge and ended up in the oyster beds high and dry.

Sadly, we came to find out that Southport Marina where we had been only 8 days earlier was completely destroyed. We prayed that Robert and Kay who had so graciously invited us to their home were OK. The next day we were able to get in touch with them finding out that they were well, but the fate of their boat was unknown.

Duane used part of the afternoon while the bimini top was down to repair the tears in the fabric covering. He also tried to repair the leak on Baby Belle and prayed the patch would hold for the remainder of our trip. Then we headed off downtown with Robert and Susan to have dinner at Mezcalito. I told Duane that if all went well after the storm passed, I had wanted to go see the wild horses on Shakleford Island so we invited Robert and Susan along and all planned to leave the dock at around 9am. They were happy to have company on their first test drive since the repairs and we were happy to have friends to travel with even if it was for one day.

Leaving the marina, we idled by the USS Yorktown aircraft carrier in the Charleston Harbor at Patriots Point. Built during World War II and now a museum, the ship was bustling with activity as tourists toured the iconic 888 foot “Fighting Lady.” It was a quiet and serene ride to Minim Creek where we dropped anchor for the night. The bugs were not as relentless as we had encountered a few days earlier and we saw some dolphin pods along the way to reassure us we weren’t alone. Once the sun was gone, the breeze died down and we opted to leave the generator running on the fly bridge powering the big fans in an effort to keep things cool. Even though the generator was running outside, I went to bed with one of the carbon monoxide detectors beside me just to be safe. At around 12:30am, the generator ran out of gas and come to an abrupt stop and the cabin was soon stifling once again.

Out on the Minim Creek Canal early the next morning, I was scoping out the landscape to catch a glimpse of the many plantations which defined the rich history of the area. Through the trees we could see the Dover Plantation which was built in 1810 and relocated to that location after a flood. An hour later we were tied up at the City Dock in Georgetown with the landmark clock tower as our backdrop.

Georgetown was the third oldest city in South Carolina and known as the King of rice cultivation. It was also the site of the largest pulp and paper maker in the United States, International Paper, which accounted for the awful smell when the wind blew in the wrong direction. With it’s oak lined streets, Antebellum homes and small boutiques, the town oozed southern country charm. We took a stroll along Harbor Walk and stopped for lunch at the River Room right on the waterfront. The rustic nautical decor was welcoming and, as was expected, the seafood fresh off the boat. There were seafaring artifacts all over the town as we passed ship cannons and remnants of sunken vessels from days gone by all along our walk.

One notable attraction was the Kiminski House —a sprawling Antebellum home which was now a historic landmark and museum. Purchasing some homemade chocolate from the local sweets shop, we went to enrich our knowledge about the history of the town at the Maritime Museum. We would have loved to tour the Rice Museum also, but it was closed. Making our way the opposite direction on Harbor Walk, we encountered Buzz’s Roast. Stopping in for a Happy Hour tasting by the Winyah Bay Brewery, we were told it was Wino Wednesday and were given a free bottle of wine with our order to take home. Back on the docks, we walked over to the shrimp boats which had come in earlier that afternoon and purchased 2 lbs of their fresh catch for dinner. We were not able to leave the boat at the city dock overnight, so we boarded Bella Donna, wine and shrimp in hand (and some chocolates), and moved out to the anchorage area. The wine and chocolates helped with the suffering on the hot night.

There was a lot of mud caked on the anchor and chain when I hoisted it the next morning. This was one aspect of my manual labor job that I did not like as Duane helped pour water on the chain as I cranked it in and I hung over the bow pulpit using the boat hook to dislodge the large mass off the anchor. After washing most of the mud off myself once the bow was clean, I took my place on the fly bridge next to the Captain, grabbed my map and investigated what was in store for us on the short ride to Wacca Wache Marina in Murrell’s Inlet. It was a beautiful scenic ride along the Waccamaw River with marshes and creeks branching off the channel in every direction. The Spanish moss and live oaks were a dominant feature of the landscape among the abandoned rice fields off the banks that stretched on forever. Pulling into the marina around noon we were greeted by Tom and Brenda Lahey who were harbor hosts in the area and fellow Loopers aboard Kiss Some Frogs. We had actually seen them traveling ahead of us on many occasions on the app NEBO used by a lot of the boaters to track and communicate with each other. Dropping off the most amazing welcome bag complete with decadent homemade blondies and tickets to Brookgreen Gardens, they went above and beyond being hospitable lending us their car for the day so we were able to go to the gardens and grab provisions in town. We couldn’t thank them enough and didn’t waste a minute once they departed before heading off to see the sights. Built on former rice plantations, Brookgreen Gardens was a wildlife preserve and sculpture exhibit rolled into one. Walking along the trails, each section of the garden had a specific theme expressed in the artifacts which adorned the walkways and fields. It was a hot day and luckily they had a number of indoor exhibits where we could cool off while being cultured so we could continue to explore the 1,600 acres without having heat stroke. Walking the Low Country Trail, we were enlightened to what life on a rice plantation would entail back in the day. It was a strong statement when we came upon the four statues representing the Plantation Owner, Overseer and Enslaved African Male and Female of how each equally shaped the economic structure of the era. Moving on, one of our favorite sculptures depicted Pegasus…and I was also partial to the statue of Diana as well as the Fountain of the Muses.

The sculpture of Raphell set in a reflecting pool hit close to home. Playing basketball as a child for my parish, I would travel to Creedmoor Psychiatric Center in Queens, NY to play for the Police Athletic League. It was here that a young volunteer, Raphell Sims Lakowitz, would spend her time helping patients while studying to become a psychologist. She accomplished much in her compassionate life tragically cut short at the age of 29 from an aneurysm. In 1983, her parents dedicated this very statue symbolizing their daughter’s radiant spirit to Creedmoor in her honor —A statue I unknowingly passed numerous times in the years I played in the Creedmoor gym and participated in the Annual Raphell Sims Lakowitz Memorial Tournament.

After we were sufficiently exhausted and starving, we hopped in the car and headed over to Publix to load up on groceries and bulky items which were hard to transport on the bikes….as well as some of the Captain’s favorite snacks. Too tired to go back out once the groceries were put away, we had dinner at Deck 383 at the marina and then headed off to bed. As the boat was being pumped out by the dock hands, Tom and Brenda stopped by in the morning to wish us well and hear about our day in town. Thanking them profusely, we were soon on our way with the blondies accompanying us on the fly bridge.

We had been communicating with Geoff and Ruth aboard Geru on and off since we last saw them in Mobile, AL. Unfortunately they hit a log and had extensive damage done to their boat and were at Osprey Marina waiting on parts. Only a few miles up the river, we decided to stop for gas and say Hello. We felt terrible for them for the delay and the pandemic wasn’t making things any easier as they were slowly making their trip home to Canada. After about an hour of quickly discussing our adventures over the last few months, we were on our way to Barefoot Marina in North Myrtle Beach.

A few miles passed the Socastee Swing Bridge, a tremendous thunder and lightning storm swept right over us. Counting the time between the claps of thunder and bursts of lightning seemed futile as they seemed to be happening in unison. We could hardly see and the lightning strikes were less than a mile away so we dropped anchor off to the side of the channel and waited it out. Drying off in the cabin, I made us some lunch and we planned our activities in Myrtle Beach over the next day. It was about an hour and a half before things calmed down and we were able to move on. I thought I had an anchor break for the next few days, but that was wishful thinking, and I began cranking her in as quickly as I could. It was about an hour trip to the marina and the rain had subsided and the lightning was far off in the distance when we pulled into our slip and tied up. Another storm was blowing through soon so we ended up walking to the Marina Bar and Grill in our rain gear to grab some dinner. There was a live band and margaritas on the Happy Hour menu so we were content right where we were for the rest of the evening.

Unloading the bikes the next day, we road off to Barefoot Landing with a thunderstorm right on our heals. We ducked into the Dulphin Winery with not a minute to spare as the skies opened up and the downpour began. The wine was made from muscadine grapes and, although sweet wine wasn’t our favorite, we signed up for a tasting to preoccupy our time and wait out the rain storm. This was our last evening in South Carolina and we treated ourselves to an Italian feast at Umberto’s after a few drinks at Bully’s Pub and Grill which we were able to bike around to once the pelting rain subsided. It was pitch dark once we got back on the bikes to ride over the bridge to the marina. Of course my Captain was prepared and had a head lamp ready for each of us—Always safety first.

Right after entering the channel to the ICW once leaving the marina there is a stretch of water known as “The Rockpile.” We heard the four miles of rock ledges submerged at high tide was as daunting as it sounds so we were on high alert. Not only were we leaving at high tide after taking care of some “boat business” in the morning…namely filling the water tanks and walking the docks to meet some fellow Loopers, there was a Trump Boat Parade traveling South that we had to squeeze by. The lineup cruising down the ICW seemed never ending but most slowed as they drove on by so we had no issues staying in the channel clear of the rocks. And just like that, two hours later, we were in North Carolina.

Passing by Monks Island we were greeted by enthusiastic waves from the people having a beach party right outside the RV park. They seemed to not have a care in the world on this beautiful Sunday afternoon. Sandy beaches lined the shore all the way to Lockwoods Folly Inlet and, still having a few more hours of sunlight, we pushed forward eventually dropping anchor in the Pipeline Canal Basin. The man-made basin was an area dredged to catch the run off from Dutchman’s Creek in an effort to control the unpredictable water levels. The scenery looked like a Bob Ross painting with the sandy beaches and the sun setting behind the trees reflecting off the water. It was another hot hot night and this time the generator lasted until 5am right when the local fisherman were heading out to get an early start on the day. We were in no rush as our next port was only 45 minutes away in Southport so we headed back to bed for a few hours. No need for a cranky Captain.

Departing Brunswick we slowly passed by the crane which was being used to help remove the soon to be dismantled Golden Ray cargo ship which had capsized last year filled with over 4,000 brand new cars on the way to Baltimore. Once on the St. Simon Sound, we were able to catch a glimpse of the half submerged ship on the horizon. Of course, Duane was trying to figure out a way to get close enough to salvage some parts….boat or car it didn’t matter to him.

As we discussed what an extremely bad idea that was, our attention was diverted to the onslaught of green headed flies which had suddenly found refuge on our boat. Grabbing the bug zapper, we took turns smacking the flies off the fly bridge. Good thing I played softball in my younger days, as the follow through on the home run swing was key. If not, the stunned monster would return with a vengeance. The Mackay River was surrounded by marshes and the flies were relentless for the first few hours of our day. Once they subsided, we enjoyed the scenery and the birds which had begun to torpedo themselves into the water in an attempt for an afternoon snack. We started to rate their attempts based on entry form and speed of recovery out of the water and of course if their efforts were successful and they emerged with a meal. Though some aborted their mission at the last second, the agility to spot their prey and pinpoint their location was amazing and a true example of the many fascinating creatures that inhabit the earth. It was a relatively relaxing, but long, travel day as we motored around the twists and turns of the Little Mud River onto the North River. We waved a friendly Hello to a shrimp boat, Grave Digger, which passed off our stern while dredging for their pay load. But, other than that, we saw no other boaters all day. We found our perfect anchorage spot in Tom Creek just in time to be treated to a fabulous sunset.

It was another hot hot night and we barely slept finding ourselves sitting in the salon with the battery powered fans most of the night. The two detriments to anchoring in the beautiful creeks and lakes at this time of the year was the heat and the bugs. And, as our generator was not able to run the air conditioning and the windows had to be sealed shut at night, we were pretty uncomfortable on these particular evenings.

Splashing cold water on my face, I got myself together and went outside to hoist the anchor around sunrise. I was much more comfortable pulling the anchor up in the morning than letting it loose at the end of a trip. More than once the crank had gotten away from me and the anchor chain uncontrollably spilled into the water almost ripping free from the bow. Needless to say, the Captain was in agreement with these new arrangements after the last violent mishap when he thought I lost a finger.

It was a few hour trip to Isle of Hope Marina in Savannah. The water was clearer on this stretch of the ICW and all along the way families were enjoying themselves swimming and paddling around. Once we passed Skidaway Narrows, we were close to our destination and were soon tied up at the dock ready to explore the town. We walked the Savannah waterfront and historic district taking in all the sights. The cobblestone streets gave the area an old time feel and we stumbled upon the landmark steps which seemed a little more than dangerous to try and descend. We ended up taking the long way around and decided to go to the Chart House for some appetizers. Duane pretty much ordered one of everything on the Happy Hour menu. Before heading back to the marina to return the courtesy car, we were able to squeeze in a wine tasting at the Georgia Tasting Room and get a wine slushie to go as well as stop by Byrd’s Famous Cookies where Duane piled a box sky high with an assortment of fresh baked cookies. Back at the marina by early evening, we took the bikes around the area and then sat on the dock and enjoyed the rest of the night.

We were able to borrow the car the next morning so we headed off to Tybee Island and walked to City Pier. The beach was a welcome sight and I wished I had my bathing suit with me so I could take a refreshing dip. The car was not signed out for the next few hours so we headed over to the Crab Shack for lunch. Alligators were the main attraction here and I was able to feed a few babies…at a respectable distance away. The feel of the place was more like the backwoods meets swamp land, but the food was delicious.

One last stop before heading back….the lighthouse. The recurring main attraction throughout our journey, we felt compelled to visit whenever there was a lighthouse at a reasonable distance from where we were staying. Surrounded by palm trees, but closed due to Covid, we were able to get close enough to get a selfie.

We decided to take an Uber back to the waterfront to spend our last evening in town. First stopping at Moon River Brewing Co., I was torn between the selection so I ordered a flight of 10 samples. Duane settled on his go to wheat beer. After, we explored a few shops, returned for another tasting at the Georgia Tasting Room and a to go slushie of course, walked along the water to see the Queen Mary and went to listen to music at a local bar in the courtyard. While we were waiting to call the Uber back to the marina, we ordered a pizza to eat on the bench by the square and struck a conversation up with a couple from the area who ended up driving us home when the Uber was a no show. Southern hospitality at its finest once more.

Savannah was our last stop in Georgia and definitely a highlight despite being hindered somewhat by the virus. After showering in the morning, we left the dock, passed some barges, and were soon through the Elba Island Cut and at mile 575.5 crossed into South Carolina. Idling by Hilton Head Island we caught a glimpse of how the other half lived as we passed one yacht after another and all their fancy toys. The tenders of some were bigger than our boat and Duane joked about hooking a line to one yacht and catching a ride. Crossing the Port Royal Sound onto the Beaufort River, we anchored outside the Downtown Marina in Beaufort, SC. Lowering Baby Belle into the water, I grabbed the foot pump to fill up one of the tubes since the patch had come loose and there was a slow leak. Once the gear was aboard, we cruised to the dinghy dock and tied up. Beaufort was a quaint little town with historic homes along the waterfront and little shops along the main street. Henry C Chambers Waterfront Park was a scenic stretch and strolling back along Bay Street we noticed some beautifully preserved old homes. Hemingway’s was the first place that caught our eye, so we walked in to ask for a dinner recommendation. The bar was dark mahogany wood with memorabilia and photos adorning the walls and the bartender explained how many places were closing early due to the pandemic. Pouring us a glass of wine, he gave us a few options to consider. We decided on the closest restaurant to the bar and ended up having a delicious BBQ dinner at Q on the Water. It was getting late….9pm is Looper midnight they say…and we were pulling anchor at sunrise so we made our way back to the dinghy. It was another sleepless and hot night and I dreamed of being at the marina with the air conditioner pumping in Charleston in two days.

Ready to move on, we left the anchorage at day break and were praying for some wind. I had the battery powered fan around my neck most of the day now as we traveled. Crossing under the Lady Island Bridge, we took turns driving and trying to cool off. Neither of us wanted to retrieve any food off the hot engine as of late, so lunches consisted mostly of pasta salads and tuna sandwiches. The Ashepoo River had a terrible current and at times I felt as if we were standing still. Pushing through to Watt’s Cut, we finally gained our speed back (which is a lot for me to say at 7 mph) and watched the depth as it was registering 4 feet in some sections. The landscape was breathtaking and around 5:30 we dropped anchor off the Stono River next to a sand bar. Traffic passing through the channel rocked us for a few hours and we sat on the bow watching the sun sink below the horizon. By 9pm all was quiet and I was plotting out the course and schedule for tomorrow as usual and the Captain was deciding on what to watch on Netflix. It was rare we had good service and could enjoy the normalcy of watching a movie. It was a hot, but bearable night, and we both slept soundly.

It was a short travel day to Charleston and we planned to stay at least two days to explore. I awoke to a spectacular sunrise through the port side window and ran out to capture the colors on my camera. However, the picture rarely captures the complete beauty of what you see…fortunately memories last forever. Crawling back in bed, I lay silent thinking for the next hour of the amazing journey we have had and excited for what was to come. The Captain had researched the tides and current and wanted to leave at the optimum time to get a big push. And he was spot on…Once we were underway the current of the Elliott Cut propelled us to 10.3 mph at only 1300 RPM running on one engine. I was smiles from ear to ear.

The Charleston Maritime Center was a small marina next to the Aquarium and Liberty Square. Besides the tour boat which left from the marina twice a day, there was only one other transient boater tied up at the docks. Jeff, the dock master, came outside to give us some pertinent information and explained how the bathrooms were closed due to Covid, but I could use the laundry facility as long as I scheduled a time. He was most apologetic, but we knew it was not his fault.

We were soon on our way to town which was not a far walk from the marina and one of the reasons we choose to stay there. I had a list of sights to see and things to do while there for the next 50 hours, so we began to work through them one by one. Today’s lunch was fresh tuna tacos at Avon Street Fish and Raw Bar -an absolutely perfect and delicious choice. The temperature was starting to creep up as we walked around taking in the sights after lunch and we stopped by Blossom for a frozen bellini giving us a perfect chance to cool off. Out on the pavement again, we made our way over to the famous Rainbow Row for a photo op and then to Joe Riley Waterfront Park. The pastel colored historic homes which comprised Rainbow Row on East Bay Street were a definite tourist attraction as we patiently waited our turn as bachelorette parties and families were snapping shots to capture the moment. The pineapple fountain was a stand out on the waterfront, but was equally as difficult to get a picture of up close as a mother had stripped her kids down to their underwear and they were splashing in the fountain cooling off.

The Charleston City Market was set up in the middle of town selling a variety of handmade goods from local artists and craftsmen. Horse drawn carriages were carrying tourists about to the various attractions in the city on this extremely hot day. We ducked into the air conditioned Info Center under the guise of grabbing a few pamphlets and were pleasantly greeted by a woman behind the desk who drew us in with one statement…free stuff! After about thirty minutes we had signed up for a presentation the next morning once we were promised it was nothing like a time share gimmick and offered three free gifts for our time. Choosing a tour of Fort Sumter, a Haunted Jailhouse experience and a $75 dinner voucher we were intrigued by what the company called Travel Inspirations was all about.

The next stop on the self-guided tour was the O-Bar Oyster House where we indulged in a few appetizers and $1 oysters. The fresh oysters packed in ice were being carted in every few minutes and shucked by the bushel before our eyes. It had been a long day so far and, with only one more destination on today’s agenda, we ascended up to the Vendue Rooftop for a cocktail and to enjoy the view of the timeless city. We heard that Charleston was referred to as “the living museum” as the historic homes and buildings were inhabited by everyday people living and working amongst the grand architecture and vibrant culture beautifully preserved over hundreds of years.

Our appointment was at 11am so we slept in for the first time in a long while before showering and heading off to see the presentation. The gentleman giving the talk on behalf of Travel Inspirations was terrific and thoroughly entertaining, but not knowing our living/travel situation prior, could not have known their travel club would not suit us. Living on the boat, we were basically a moving hotel to any vacation location of our choosing so a service offering hotel and transportation discounts was not what we were looking for. True to their word, we thanked him for his time and were handed an envelope with our gifts.

Today’s lunch at Pearlz Oyster Bar rivaled yesterday’s delicious meal as we soon were realizing we couldn’t go wrong with any of our dining choices in town. I booked us for our two tours as we relished every bite of the fresh clams, oysters and shrimp. Walking over to Liberty Square, we explored the Fort Sumter museum before boarding the ferry which took us over to the island to walk the grounds of the fort. The rich history of the location was depicted throughout the museum and the stories of war and struggle told by the guides as we made our way across the harbor captivated us more than any history class we remembered. We walked through the barracks, up to the cannons lining the wall and around the crumpled stone and bricks which once fortified the grounds of the sea fort which was the site of the beginning of the American Civil War. We talked nonstop all the way back about all we did not know (or may have forgotten) about the Civil War and what that meant to our freedom today.

We had dinner reservations at Hank’s Seafood that evening. The restaurant, which resembled a Charleston Fish House, was number one on everyone’s recommendations so we were anxious to see how it was going to top the culinary experience we have had thus far. Duane also made the declaration that this was going to be my official birthday dinner and his treat (with the help of the $75 voucher, but I’ll take it). Needless to say, the food was out of this world. The pan seared sea scallops were so tender and melted in your mouth. But, the Seafood A La Wando won hands down. The savory flavor of the seafood medley coupled with the cream sauce was like nothing my taste buds had ever experienced. Half way between a food coma and a euphoric high, we strolled off to the haunted jailhouse tour –gift number three.

The temperature that night was still in the 80s and add that to the creepy building with no ventilation we were about to enter, I was skeptical of our gift choice. The stories of torture inflicted and experiments that were conducted within these walls was unimaginable. I had the feeling of being watched the whole time and almost freaked out when Duane jokingly (or so I thought) tried to lock me in one of the rooms alone. I had just about enough toward the end of the tour when a wheel chair appeared out of nowhere and we heard a scream. I did not know if I was sweating from the heat or fear, but I was looking for the exit. I know it was probably all staged, but I did not want to find out first hand if there really were supernatural beings at work. Breathing a sigh of relief once we were out under the night sky, I needed a glass of wine to calm my nerves.

I spent our last morning cleaning and doing laundry as Duane continued to work on fixing the salon air conditioner as we had been living off the cooling power of only the air conditioner in the V-berth. I thought the one air conditioner was just fine, but he needed to fix what was broken or he wouldn’t be happy. Unstrapping the bikes from the bow and rinsing them off, a cemetery tour was first on our agenda. Plotting our way through town, we explored the historic tombstones and monuments of the Magnolia and St. Lawrence cemeteries. Parts of the cemetery looked like no one had been there for many years as the brush and vines had overtaken the area and then other sections were meticulously groomed with fresh flowers blooming. It was a very dry day and the dust kicked up as we biked around the paths stumbling upon a fresh grave with the funeral arrangements surrounding the area like a security blanket. Realizing it was the grave of a young girl, we stopped and said a prayer and picked up some of the arrangements that had fallen over.

It was a few mile ride back to the boat, and the Captain’s belly was grumbling so we pulled in to Home Town BBQ for tater tots and wings and then peddled back and locked our bikes up outside the Charleston Beer Works Brewery so we could relax for a while. The rest of the day we leisurely biked around retracing some of our steps from the last three days and saw a few new ones —namely the American Theater on King Street which was featured in one of my favorite movies, The Notebook. We had only had a few snacks all day, so we decided on OKU Sushi for dinner. We always order way too many rolls and, as usual, I was struggling to finish realizing we still had to bike back to the marina. Heading over to Henry’s Rooftop after the meal to digest a little, this would be our last stop in historic Charleston. We grabbed a cocktail and reminisced about all we had managed to see and experience the last few days as the band played in the background. Charleston definitely ranked as one of my top 5 locations in the U.S. we have had the privilege to visit on the trip.

Back at the marina before it got too late, we loaded the bikes on to the boat and prepared for the travel day ahead. It should be about an 8 to 9 hour trip to our next destination and anchorage on Minim Creek….I only prayed for a breeze and no mosquitoes.

It was a hot, humid and overcast travel day heading toward Brunswick Landing Marina and, on top of that, the bugs were sticking to almost everything on the fly bridge, including my sunglasses which was making it extremely difficult to navigate. Thank God it was less than a two hour trip to our temporary home port for the next few weeks. After pulling up to the gas dock, I hardly waited for the stern line to be secured before I jumped off the boat and headed into the air conditioned bug-free marina office. The day took a positive turn when the dock master told us that the county had just sprayed to calm the relentless mosquitoes that had infested the area over the last week, we were given a slip assignment docked right next to Siesta and the beer keg was chilled and waiting for our arrival. Rob and Rhonda were visiting family and would not be arriving back to the marina for a few days, so we settled in and walked up to the boater’s lounge. Filling up a glass with an ice cold PBR, I headed off to the shower laughing about how I thought the last time I would ever be voluntarily indulging in a PBR was under quarantine in the Bahamas. It definitely wasn’t the first time something in 2020 shocked me and, the way things were shaping up, it surely would not be the last.

Another perk at the marina that almost topped the free beer, was the free laundry facility. And as I always said, I never missed the opportunity to have clean sheets and towels especially when I do not have to scrape together a mound of quarters to take care of a few extra loads. On this occasion I even threw in a set of curtains as an added bonus to freshen up the salon.

Taking a walk through the streets of downtown Brunswick there was a wide variety of storefronts ranging from a distillery, a brick oven pizza joint, and a pool hall to an upscale eatery (with a hidden speakeasy), a sushi restaurant and a brewery opening in a week. We wandered into the distillery to take a peak, but were left standing awkwardly at a barrel 6 feet from other patrons with our masks on listening to a speech about the establishment not allowed any samples compliments of the pandemic. Emerging out onto the street, we grabbed an outside table at Tipsy McSway’s for lunch. It was a pleasant reprieve to be breathing in the fresh air, enjoying a cold drink and some tasty chicken nachos, while watching people taking advantage of such a beautiful day. Back at the marina we introduced ourselves to Glynn and Beverly who just arrived aboard Nauti Leana. As Duane and Glynn were discussing their grand projects for our respective boats during the time we all would be idling in Brunswick, I was given a tour of their abode by Beverly. They were a lovely and energetic couple and, after a few hours, we invited them over to our boat to reciprocate the hospitality. Deciding on a change of scenery, we walked up to the boater’s lounge to investigate the happenings at happy hour around the keg. To our dismay and shock, the lounge was closed ( so no access to the keg) and a makeshift sign was affixed to the door stating that a boater residing on one of the docks had tested positive for the virus so the public area was closed for at least two weeks. We heard rumors over the next few days that the boater never even used the facilities. Regardless of that fact, the lounge never reopened the whole rest of our stay. Dejected, we walked back our boats and I seasoned up a rotisserie chicken and threw it into the instant pot. The evening ended on an upswing as the experimental meal was absolutely delicious so we drowned our sorrows in the delectable poultry…and of course some rum.

The next morning we hightailed over to the Farmer’s Market in the Town Square purchasing an assortment of cookies, homemade peanut butter, fresh fruit and tomatoes, and deviled crabs. Bev and Glynn joined us for lunch at Tipsy McSway’s and Glynn filled us in on his interesting evening at the hidden speakeasy behind the upscale restaurant, Reid’s Apothecary. Named “The Study,” patrons were required to call after a certain time and obtain the password for entry for that evening. Intrigued, we made plans to venture over after dinner. The password was more like a phrase and it took all four of us to remember the exact words once we made the phone call and the mysterious voice rattled off the sentence and quickly hung up. Walking down a dark alleyway, we knocked on the lone door off to the end of the path and a dark figure slid open a small window and requested the password for entry. Spitting out what we had collaboratively remembered, the window slammed shut. Startled for a moment thinking that this was the last we would see of the gentleman behind the door, I turned to Duane about to suggest going to another bar when we heard the lock click and the door flung open. The bar was very eclectic and the decor an abundance of red velour and gold fixtures. There was a one man band playing jazz in the corner and we settled in on the plush couches off to the side with a perfect view of all the action. Feeling very much in the moment, Glynn ordered a whisky on the rocks and the rest of us each ordered an Old Fashioned. We would definitely have to bring Rob and Rhonda here when they returned in two days.

The Saharan Dust had been getting significantly thicker the last two days. The cloud was hanging low, and though it resulted in spectacular sunsets, the dust, combined with the intense heat and humidity, made it relatively unbearable to sit outside for long periods of time. There was not much going on in town and we had experienced all the significant hot spots over the last few days. Couple that with the intense heat, we were discussing going home for a 4th of July visit. The end of the trip was creeping up and we thought it would be nice to get the house in order for our return and also get some weight off the boat for the remainder of our travels. Duane was still left with a bad taste in his mouth over the abrupt closure of the lounge and the end to all social activities at the marina, so Covid was definitely putting a damper on things as of late.

The following night we had a pot luck BBQ on the dock with Bev and Glynn. Rob and Rhonda arrived back from visiting family in Indiana just in time for dessert. We had rented a car and were going to depart for home in three days so it would give us a chance to catch up. The next day was full of activity. Alan, Kim and Mia arrived at the marina early and we chilled for a bit and had drinks and appetizers before heading to Indigo Shanty for an early dinner. It was one of the best Mexican meals I have had in a long while even though the service was less than stellar. Kim and Mia left soon after dinner and Alan joined in on the rest of the evening shenanigans as we stopped by Tipsy McSway’s for after dinner cocktails and then moved on to Bardelous to play some pool where the bartender tempted us with our first taste of mead in a Viking cup. In the morning, Alan drove us to get the rental car before he left for work. Back at the marina, we started loading the car with our cold weather gear and some random spare boat parts I hadn’t seen in the whole 11 months we had been away. No wonder why we traveled at a snail’s pace. Taking a break, Rhonda and I headed off to Arte Pizza for lunch and look at the few shops that were open. It was the grand opening of the brewery, but the line was tremendous so we would have to venture over again once we returned to town next week. We relaxed the rest of the evening and packed up some last minute things as we were departing at 4am to begin the 16 hour ride home. While we were gone, the bottom of the boat was scheduled to be cleaned so, I was hoping that, combined with the hundreds of pounds we had packed in the car, would give us at least an extra 3 miles an hour of speed (wishful thinking of course).

The ride home was tedious, but uneventful. Driving up to the house, it was hard to believe we had been gone for so long. Covid was now in full swing so we weren’t sure what to expect as we heard things were much different up North. We had an amazing homecoming “social distancing” with family and friends. We had people over for barbecues and outdoor bone fires and we met those who were able to for dinner a few nights in town. It was great to see familiar faces we had missed for so long. The first few days home I spent unpacking boxes stored away in the basement and attic getting us all settled in. It was going to be a big transition for me as I went straight from the city, to the boat and was now going to be thrust into life in the country. The week went by quickly and it seemed like we were back on the boat in the blink of an eye.

Upon our return, we decided to keep the rental car for an extra day and took a ride to the fishing town of Darien. We had an amazing seafood lunch at Skipper’s Fish Camp on the water and strolled into Horse Creek winery where we were pleasantly surprised by the selection and ambiance. We indulged in frozen slushie wine cocktails to cool us off on the hot afternoon and also to sufficiently prepare me for yet another marine consignment store. We heard that if we were looking for fresh shrimp, Darien was the best place to be, so we stopped by the docks and were pointed to the yellow pick up truck in the gas station parking lot. Strange storefront, but the truck was the talk of the town. So much so that they were sold out of fresh shrimp when we arrived and directed us to Smith and Sons where we purchased two pounds of fresh off the boat shrimp, crab and some prepared meals. Stopping by Fort George on the way back to the marina, again marveling at the deep embedded history of our country’s evolution so prevalent up the coast, we enjoyed the sunshine and walked around the meticulously groomed landscape.

Today was Rhonda’s birthday, and although the sushi restaurant was closed, we were able to bring pizza from Arte into the newly opened Silverton Brewery for dinner. The new gig in town, the brewery was packed and we thoroughly enjoyed the selection of brews on tap. I had called on our ride back to town for the secret phrase allowing entry into The Study that evening (The paddy wagon is out back) so we headed off down the alley toward the mysterious door. Rob and Rhonda were as impressed as we were at the hidden gem and we had an enjoyable rest of the evening listening to jazz and joking about the fun times we’ve had together since meeting up on the ICW. We would both be leaving in two days…them off in their car to Mindy and Tanner’s house and us pushing north through the ICW toward home.

The next day we were ecstatic that Chris, Lisa and little Winston were making the drive up from Fort Lauderdale to see us for lunch. Sitting outside of Tipsy McSway’s (once again), armed with baby fans to cool us off from the miserable heat, it was great to catch up and see them before we went home. An added bonus was a gift of the best Sinammon (yes that is how they spell it) Rolls I have ever tasted that they picked up for us from Grandy’s. We are so fortunate to have met them on our travels and truly grateful that they have become good friends who we will keep in touch with and definitely plan to meet up with in the future. It was hard for Duane to say goodbye to his little buddy, Winston, as he peaked over the dashboard wagging his tail as they drove off.

After having “farewell drinks for now” with Rob and Rhonda that evening, it was the first time I felt anxious about the impending end of our trip. We hoped to see them up North if they were able to come to visit in the winter. If not, I will be due a warm weather trip sooner than later once the snow started to fall. We were so close to home, I wanted to press rewind and start the trip all over.

With Rob and Rhonda gone and Bev and Glynn still home visiting family, I spent our last day cleaning, doing laundry and filling up all the water jugs as the Captain tended to the anchor light and the solar panels as well as made sure the engines were in tip top shape (well at least one of them). I whipped up a Georgia sweet shrimp dinner to commemorate our memorable time in Brunswick and we turned in early. I was super excited for the sun to rise so we could cast off our lines and continue on to the finish line.

After departing the free dock early the next morning, we set our course up Sister Creek toward Amelia Island. Snagging a mooring at Fernandina Harbor Marina a few hours later, we launched Baby Belle and took off to shore to explore the old seafaring town. The inner harbor was situated right along the ICW and we meandered up and down the streets marveling at the Victorian architecture. Once a smuggler’s den and overrun by bandits, the island had transformed over the many decades with cafes, boutiques and galleries now lining the streets. The Captain was excited to visit the Palace Salon which was the oldest bar in Florida and we ordered two Pirate’s Punch which was customary once you stepped foot into the establishment. The deep mahogany wood and not so polished decor suggested this was surely the place where pirates came to tie one on after a long haul at sea and where nefarious dealings took place in the dark corners.

Our next stop was the Salty Pelican which was more of a beach bar than outlaw hangout. Here we indulged in the best Tuna Nachos we have had in a long time, if ever, while ordering a little taste of home…two Narragansett Lagers to quench our thirst. Once Happy Hour was in full swing, a live band took to the stage and we hung around listening to them belt out Jimmy Buffet until the sun started to set. Back on the boat, I opened a bottle of wine and we lounged on the bow before dinner. We were chatting about tomorrow’s adventure and how we were going to get the bikes ashore without mishap, when a swarm of mosquitoes were unleashed upon us. The Captain almost knocked me over the side rail trying to escape into the cabin and hunker down. Closing up every port hole, hatch and window to help ward off further attack, I started to spray a concoction of dish washing liquid, citrus mouthwash and vinegar on all the possible breaches. I may have overdid the vinegar portion as the whole boat smelt like a salad for the rest of the evening. It was an extremely hot night and, since the generator was not powerful enough to run the A/C, I strategically placed our fans for optimal cooling in the V-berth now that we were completely sealed inside and it was sweltering.

Waking up early the next morning, I hurried to open up the cabin and air the boat out. After taking a nice cold shower, we carefully loaded the bikes following the Captain’s strategic plan onto Baby Belle and went ashore to ride up to Fort Clinch. Biking down the famous Canopy Road, where the tree limbs connected forming a natural tunnel, we emerged at the entrance to the fort. We had visited the fort 4 years ago and reminisced along the paths as we were not able to enter the structures due to Covid restrictions. It was a gorgeous day…hot and humid, but the wind in our faces as we bike was refreshing. Back in town, Duane suggested we swing by the Salty Pelican for Shrimp Poutine which he was eyeing on the menu the day before. How could I resist…our 6 mile bike ride burned 300 calories and the poutine was most likely 1,300 calories. Glad we got some exercise in.

Later that afternoon Duane’s childhood friend, Alan, his wife, Kim, and their daughters, Lindel and Mia, met us at the Amelia Tavern. Alan was working in the area and we had a few hours to catch up before his shift began. As Duane spun tails about our time on the high seas, the girls filled us in on what was new in the teenage world and we all prayed that the Covid pandemic would subside quickly. Before they departed we made plans for them to visit us in Brunswick, GA, where we were meeting up with Rhonda and Rob who had been there on their boat for a few weeks now. Waving goodbye, we hopped on the bikes and took a leisurely ride over to the Crap Trap for a nice seafood dinner.

Anticipating the wrath of the mosquitoes, we sprayed down with repellent before we locked up the bikes and headed back out onto the water. Not only were the mosquitoes unbearable, but the mooring field was in full view of the Pulp Plant, which was not only unpleasant aesthetically, but the smell was horrific at times. Another hot night preceded the beginning of another scorcher of a day. Morning cold showers were now the norm before embarking on our day ashore. As the train whistle sounded and the cars rumbled through the area, we made our way to the Island Hopper Trolley to head to the beach for lunch. We strolled along the shore before we grabbed lunch as the waves crashed at Sliders Beach Bar and Grill. This is where the Captain and I struck up a deal…if he would agree to bike and spend an actual day on the beach with me, we could take the trolley back to town and venture to the Maritime Museum. In the end, our compromise was a win win for both of us.

The museum was absolutely amazing and the tour we received was top notch. We first met an older gentlemen who painstakingly reconstructed down to the most minute details replicas of old ships. The stories of his endeavors were so fascinating we listened for almost an hour as he took us through the construction of his flawless works. Moving on to our tour, one of the actual artifact salvagers was the caretaker of the museum and guided us around as we watched videos of the treasure hunts and what prizes were brought up to the surface. Everything from coins to pirate bounties to ancient relics that sunk generations ago were on display as was part of an actual ship located in a recent expedition lost long ago. This was truly the Treasure Coast in more ways than one. Heading to the Crab Trap for some tropical daiquiris, we discussed how impressed we were by the museum and the dedication that these gentlemen possessed to preserving the history of the coast.

Today was Beach Day! You would think while living on a boat that sandy beaches would be abundant, but traveling inland on the ICW and through rivers paints a whole new landscape in your head which is a lot more rocky and green. Biking down to Fernandina Beach was an easy trip with the cooler strapped to my back and Duane clutching his wake board (compliments of a recent roadside salvage mission). There was not a cloud in the sky and the breeze kicked up the waves and cooled down the incessant heat that had been baking us for days now. As Duane rode wave after wave trying to catch the ultimate ride, I relaxed in the sunshine making sure he didn’t injure himself. The water was clear for East Coast standards as we could see nearly to our knees, but the sand was somewhat rocky which made us miss the Bahamas even more. After a few hours, the Captain was tired, salty and waterlogged and our beach day came to a close. We biked toward the boat passing St. Michael’s Church along the way and decided to make a pit stop to light a few candles and say a prayer in honor of Father’s Day. We were sure our dads (and my mom) were looking down on us smiling at the adventure we were having even though we may have left a sandy wet trail walking through the front door. Our next stop was to Marina Seafood Restaurant for a late lunch, then we loaded the bikes onto the boat, took showers and we were off to our next destination – Cumberland Island.

Idling by the West Rock Paper Mill, we anchored off Cumberland Island a little over an hour later. As the colors of the sky turned magnificent shades of orange and red, we settled in for a quiet night and were relieved to not hear the buzzing of the flying pests that had invaded us the last few days.

In the morning we loaded the bikes on Baby Belle once more and went ashore in search of the wild horses indigenous to the island. The trails were lined with canopy trees and we made our way to the Dungeness ruins. The original seaside mansion was abandoned during the Civil War, later burned, and was resurrected by the Carnegies before it was burned down once more. It was at the ruins I had the first glimpse of the horses. I guess I had high expectations thinking I would see the Black Stallion galloping through the fields, as the horses we saw were rather scrawny, dirty and left stinky land mines everywhere. In five hours we biked to three beaches — Dungeness, Sea Camp and Little Greyfield. It was only when we reached the latter were we actually able to make it to see the ocean as the first two beaches were located high up the dunes and it was like walking through a desert to get even remotely close. On both attempts, after panting for a few yards, we retreated with our tails between our legs. Looking for a place to have a picnic lunch away from the smell of horse manure baking in the sun and the mosquitoes, we stumbled upon an old laundry facility which housed public bathrooms on one end and had a welcoming picnic table on the other. The island was as picturesque as you could imagine and you were definitely one with nature across every inch of the land. With that, we understood why people may spend an exorbitant amount of money to stay at the single establishment on the island, the Greyfield Inn, an all-inclusive, high-end resort constructed from the remnants of a hundred year old estate.

Our last island stop on the agenda was long awaited Jekyll Island. After cranking up the anchor, I sat on the bow for awhile taking in some fresh air as we traveled along the Cumberland Sound. A few miles before the marina a nasty thunderstorm passed over us and we had to use the lights from a fishing boat working on the water to guide the way. The Jekyll Harbor Marina was small, but a pleasant stop. We borrowed the courtesy golf cart and took a ride to Driftwood Beach in the 45 minutes we were allotted to use the cart for. I had never seen anything like the beach before. It was like the driftwood came to life and formed magnificent works of art some 5 and 6 feet high and even wider. It was a natural wonder that captivated the mind and made you truly appreciate the beauty of the world. Rushing back to drop off the cart, we hopped on the courtesy bikes and went to the Beach Village for dinner at the Sunset Grill. The food was delicious and was only rivaled by the view.

Fully rested for the day’s outing, we mounted the bikes in the morning and found the path along the water to the Historic District. It was here we were wowed by historic cottage after cottage built by the elite to serve as their summer residencies. The island had been the exclusive playground for the likes of the Vanderbilts, Rockefellers, Morgans and Pulitzers to name a few. It was these elitists who came to the island to escape the cold winters up North. They eventually had the Jekyll Island Club erected which was more elegant than any private cottage and it was here that all the members dined and congregated on a daily basis. Today the property is an exclusive hotel where guests decked out all in white were partaking in a game of croquet and others were being chauffeured around to various activities. Due to Covid, there were no tours to view the replicated interior of the cottage homes, but the exteriors painted a picture of high society and wealth. And the landscaping was as impeccable as the structures it adorned.

We stopped at the Beach House for lunch on our trip back to the marina and chatted about how life in high society back in the day afforded those fortunate enough with so much more opportunity to see the world. We knew how fortunate we were for the opportunity to have this experience we were living right now. There were two beaches at the end of the island we had yet to explore and were a little tired and not that motivated to bike the rest of the way. We called the marina and, since the golf cart was available, we changed up our mode of transportation and went off to St. Andrew and Glory Beach. Taking a quick walk along the sand while enjoying the solitude, we were soon back on the boat relaxing on the couch with our feet up after a few long days of playing tourists. For insurance purposes, Bella Donna was required to be north of Brunswick, GA by the first of the month. Brunswick Landing Marina was our destination tomorrow and we were a few days shy of our deadline which put the Captain’s mind at ease. We will definitely sleep soundly tonight.

After idling up to the free pump out dock, we set off down the St. John’s River toward Ortega Landing where we planned to spend the next week. It was a slow go as we traveled 4.5 knots against the current most of the way weaving in and out of the cargo ship traffic going about their daily business. As Jaguar Stadium came into sight, we definitely were getting that big city vibe as the sounds and smells of the metropolis surrounded us. After clearing the sixth bridge we were in the home stretch and were excited to see our friend Sam, who worked in the area, waving to us from the waterfront. Not long after we were pulling into our slip at the marina.

I tossed the lines ashore and, as soon as we were secured, I hopped on the dock to be greeted by Chris and Lisa from BackAtcha and our favorite canine friend, Winston. Duane didn’t hesitate to give his little buddy a great big Hello as Winston wagged his tail and licked him repeatedly. Since splitting up 6 months ago, the world was a different place and we had lots of travel stories and life experiences to exchange. Definitely over some docktails.

That evening we met Jim and Marilyn aboard Spinning Dreams and joined the group’s daily 5pm poolside Happy Hour. We definitely could get used to the relaxing pace of the day to day life of the boaters residing at the marina. Watching the sunset over the water while eating pizza, chatting with friends and enjoying the hot tub was a great welcome to Jacksonville.

Not only was there a pool and hot tub, but there was free laundry. This is always a perk after being out on the water for days and everything seems to be caked in salt. The next morning I practically threw Duane out of the bed so I could strip the sheets and ran up to the laundry room with two bags busting at the seams. While the clothes were spinning, I took a long hot shower in the spacious and luxurious accommodations. While the Captain busied himself checking all of Bella Donna’s vitals, I went for a walk around the area and greeted our friend, Sam, and his little boy, Sebastian, at the gate. Duane had ordered numerous packages unbeknownst to the First Mate that were shipped to Sam’s residence, and I started feeling claustrophobic as the boys unloaded 15 boxes into the salon. Of course my one purchase of instant pot accessories was deemed nonessential and was going to clutter the galley. Not sure how he even said this with a straight face as he ordered enough wire and LED bulbs to outfit the Queen Mary.

Once I was fairly content things were organized, along with the help of some wine, we gathered by the pool for dinner and enjoy the delicious burgers which Chris had so graciously cooked for us that evening. The next afternoon we borrowed the loaner bikes and ran some errands remembering to pick up steaks for that evening’s Friday Steak Night festivities. Our resident chef, Chris, grilled the steaks to perfection and everyone contributed a side dish. We were thoroughly stuffed after the decadent spread and, while enjoying after dinner drinks on BackAtcha, a ferocious thunderstorm blew in. Sprinting back to the boat we were weighed down by the many calories consumed that evening which did not help our plight to remain relatively dry as we arrived soaked to the bone.

The following day we were elated to be invited over to Sam and his wife, Alana’s, home for a Low Country Boil. Picking us up early in the afternoon we had time to stop by the Town Beer Company to sample some local craft brews. On the way to the house, we made one last stop at the German Biergarten and picked up some favorite brews to accompany the scrumptious meal which we were highly anticipating. The boys tended to the boil on the outside deck as I received a first class tour of the house from Alana and little Sebastian. Their home had such character still retaining the 1965 vibe down to the cork floors, wood paneling and vintage stereo console. The vibrant hues and retro interior expertly detailed in the blueprints left by the original owners who designed the home, made this extraordinarily beautiful home one of a kind.

Finally it was time for the boil and I watched as the shrimp, sausages, corn and potatoes spilled out on the newspaper covered table and the delectable smells wafted through the yard. Gathering around, we all had a prime spot to feast on the mound of deliciousness. This was definitely one meal worth waiting for. After a great evening, we retired for a night cap in the living room before we settled in for the evening with the family dog, Cooper, as our furry bunk mate.

We were back at the marina early the next morning just in time to jump on BackAtcha and take a ride up the river to gander at the Trump birthday boat parade motoring through the river. Politics aside, the sight of the camaraderie and American flags patriotically raised up high and fluttering in the wind was truly a heartwarming experience. Back at the marina, we gathered poolside for the rest of the day enjoying drinks and a pot luck dinner as the last of the beautiful day dropped below the horizon.

Our last three days in Jacksonville were spent sprucing up the boat in between floating in the pool, barbecues, S’mores by the fire pit and bike rides to town for burgers and fries. The last day the Captain tended to the alternator and to tweaking the air conditioning to help us survive the rising Southern temperatures. After the last load of laundry was folded and the boat smelled fresh as a daisy, I prepared to have our goodbye dinner with Lisa and Chris and little Winston (BackAtcha), Marilyn and Bob (Spinning Dreams), Maggie and Greg (Serenity Blue) and Terry and Ike (Paradise Falls). After a great evening we went down to the fire pit one last time and decided, with some scepticism on my part, to released our last Chinese lantern. Miraculously, the lantern took flight and ascended high up toward the heavens and out of sight. The ear to ear grin I caught on Duane’s face said it all as I was in total shock… more surprises and adventures were surely on the horizon.

The next day we made our rounds to say farewell for now to our friends. Giving Winston one last hug, we hopped on the boat, fired up the engines, untied our lines and idled away from the dock. Waving to everyone, we were grateful for the memories. As we traveled along the St. John River, Sam was standing on the waterfront to wish us well just as he had greeted us a week ago. A week that was gone all too soon. We were all smiles and reminiscing over the highlights of our visit when the Captain suggested he go below to grab lunch and left me at the helm. I was taking in the sights and maneuvering around the barges when the wind kicked up and a strong gust blew through the fly bridge and, just like that, the center panel of the enclosure was overboard. I frantically yelled over the handheld for Duane to come up top, but by the time he arrived, the panel was out of sight. The rest of the ride to the free dock, where we planned to spend the night, was definitely not as jovial as when the trip had started that morning. Tied up for the evening, I excitedly filled the Captain in on our plans for when we arrived in Fernandina Beach the next morning and he seemed to forget about the loss of the panel he had painstakingly worked on for the time being.

Time to go…

We were in no rush to travel in the rain toward St. Augustine so we spent a lazy morning cleaning up the boat. When we finally got motivated, we pushed off from the dock and motored along the narrow scenic stretch of the waterway as the rain fell and the wind swirled through the enclosure. It is days like these when running on one engine with no auto pilot is very trying on the arms as we constantly have to battle the wind and the current to stay on course. After a good work out and just a little waterlogged, we idled into St. Augustine and grabbed mooring #29 not far from both Columba and Siesta later that afternoon. The city was perfectly situated in the protected harbor waters of the Matanzas River and the wide inlet passage to the ocean had made the area a desirable location for commerce and trading posts in the days gone by. Suiting up in our rain gear, we all went ashore to explore the timeless city just south of the impressive Bridge of Lions. St. Augustine is the oldest city in the United States and St. George Street was the picture of old world Spanish colonial architecture replicated in a small village. Walking through the streets, the area was a perfect combination of European flare and Southern charm. After working up an appetite, we stopped by Pizzalley’s Chianti Room for some delectable brick oven pizza paired perfectly with an ice cold Peroni. Trekking back to the dinghy dock, we ducked into the elegant Casablanca Inn and sat outside in the courtyard decompressing over a few tasty signature martinis. Back on our floating abodes, Rob and Rhonda invited us over for a nightcap to close out a truly enjoyable day.

The rain cleared up the next morning just in time for “Girl’s Day.” Rhonda swung by and picked Deb and I up and off we went to tour town without the boys hurrying us along. The men had their own day planned as the three of them were off to the Sailor Exchange to sort through potential boat treasures once again. I had a sinking feeling I was going to have to rearrange the cabin to make room for more “necessities.”

Our first stops were the Tea and Spice Exchange and Ancient Olive where we sampled a variety of spices, teas, infused oils and flavored vinegars. Settling for a variety of spices at the exchange and a bottle of Tuscan Herb olive oil, I was excited to incorporate the new flavors into our future meals. It was a hot day and after visiting a few novelty shops, we took off to the other end of town to the San Sebastián Winery for a tasting.

On our leisurely walk over to the winery we passed by a multitude of spectacular buildings. The grounds of Flaglar College were the epitome of opulence and wealth as the location was the former Hotel Ponce de Leon constructed in true Renaissance style. Even the winery gave off an air of old world architecture being housed in the former East Coast Railway building. We walked the three floors of the establishment tasting various wines at different stations set up along the corridors ending our tour at the rooftop bar to enjoy a glass of our favorite.

It was at the rooftop bar where the men caught up with us as we listened to the band and were chatting over some snacks….well everyone but Duane. After a little prodding, I was able to get Rob to fess up that Duane had purchased a refrigerator to use for parts and was getting a ride back to the boat to unload the bulky item. As you may recall when the trip started some 10 months ago, the boat refrigerator decided to breakdown and I have been using it as a pantry ever since. Along the way we invested in a chest refrigerator which rides on one end of the dinette and a separate freezer which is perfectly situated in the corner of the salon. Refusing to give up my extra storage space, we will definitely be having a talk later.

Our next stop was the St. Augustine Distillery which was equally as impressive in structure and quality. At this point Duane had joined the group and was eager to partake in the tasting. Historically speaking, the family owned distillery operates out of an early 20th century restored ice plant. The oak and brick construction preserved the feel of the era and the fact that the distillers utilize the locally grown agriculture to make their craft spirits and unique mixers, provided an extraordinary appeal. The liquors were truly exceptional and we walked away with a few bottles to enjoy on those hot summer nights ahead of us.

At this point we had worked up a sufficient appetite and stumbled upon the cozy Barley Republic Public House for burgers, fish and chips, and some poutine.

Rob and Rhonda were moving on the next day so we had them, along with Harold and Deb, over to the boat for drinks before calling it a night. We planned on seeing them in Brunswick in a few weeks, but this may be the last time the six of us hung out together.

The rain was back with a vengeance the next morning so we went ashore with our already damp jackets and walked around. Since Duane had missed the winery tour, I gave in, took one for the team, and agreed to walk over to sample some more wine and discuss the refrigerator scenario. Between the wine and indulging in his favorite pizza at Pizzalley later that afternoon, he agreed to remove the parts he needed and throw the rest of the refrigerator away and promised that the fridge restoration project would wait until the trip was over. It was a win win all around.

The last two days we spent in St. Augustine we were faced with one torrential downpour after another. I was constantly bailing out Baby Belle before and after our excursions to shore. Being able to duck into the quaint shops and eateries as well as take cover in the conveniently located distillery (Round 2) was a saving grace. And Round 3 at the winery so Harold could enjoy the ambiance and premium wines was must. We all relished our last day together and bid farewell over pizza and cocktails in town. Harold and Deb were waiting on the compressor to fix their refrigerator and we planned to move on to anchor at Jim King Park in Jacksonville before heading down the St. John’s River.

Waking up early the next morning, it was an easy escape as we released the mooring and idled under the massive Bridge of Lions. Passing the fort, Castillo De San Marcos, on our port, we took one last glimpse of the pirate ships and motored north toward the Tolomato River to continue up the ICW. The current was against us most of the day…So much so a kayaker who was training for a race kept pace with us as we protected him from a storm that had sprung up blowing 15 knots on the St John’s River. I guess that was the next best thing to a dolphin riding our wake…not. The River was narrow and the water brown and we were greatly anticipating the clearer waters again….wherever that may be. Tying up at the free dock just before another round of thunderstorms blew through, we dried off and relaxed inside the cabin the rest of the day. Our water tank was nearly empty and the poop tank was pretty full, and the boat needed a good wash down so heading to Ortega Landing Marina in the morning couldn’t have come at a more perfect time.

We anxiously traveled under the overcast skies through a slight drizzle toward Titusville. Once we motored under the NASA Causeway Bridge, the Kennedy Space Center was in sight and we could make out the outline of the Falcon 9 rocket staged on the launch pad. Grabbing a mooring ball close to the edge of the field, we coordinated with the group to meet ashore at Pier 220 for drinks and dinner. The SpaceX launch was scheduled for late the next afternoon, but the weather did not look promising and our amateur meteorologists threw out their predictions on the probability the launch will happen on schedule while imbibing in a few cocktails. After dinner, we invited Harold, Deb, Rhonda, Rob, Tanner, Mindy and little Chloe, back to Bella Donna to continue our pre-launch party which extended well into the night. Duane mixed together some potent rum drinks to satisfy the crowd as the music played and the conversation drifted between boat projects, rockets, and water consumption (the debate over the 5 gallon shower was a hot topic).

The rain started first thing in the morning and as soon as we went ashore to shower and grab lunch, the lightning and thunder kicked up a notch with 45 knot winds barreling through the marina as a monsoon pelted us. We took cover with our pizza in the Captain’s Lounge waiting for the conditions to mellow so we could get back to the boat. A tornado warning had been issued in the area, but Thing 1 through 19 were still getting the astronauts prepared for takeoff so we were still gung-ho for launch. Air Force One flew overhead as the skies cleared a bit and we made a run to the boat to grab our cooler and head over to Siesta. About 40 minutes to takeoff we hightailed it under the bridge with Baby Belle to secure a prime viewing location….11 minutes to takeoff the launch was scrubbed. Duane’s anticipation and excitement had grown exponentially over the last few hours so this development was definitely a letdown, but Saturday was the back up date and we weren’t leaving until we saw the Falcon 9 rocket ride into space. Everyone regrouped back on Siesta and the party continued.

The next three days the love bugs had become relentless swarming the boat for hours during the day. I tried all sorts of online remedies to ward them off, but after the mouthwash/dish soap/vinegar concoction wore off, they were back in full force. Happy Hour at Pier 220 was our meeting spot after chores were done and plans were made for Round 2 of the launch party. This time the SpaceX Launch was a go and, as we sat five miles off the launch pad with our dinghies tied together, we watched in awe as Bob and Doug rocketed off into the history books propelled into orbit bound for the space station in the Dragon capsule. In celebration that evening, it was rum drinks all around.

Our last day in Titusville we all took an Uber to the Playalinda Brewery to enjoy some craft beers and burgers. Beforehand, we walked around the Space Park and marveled at the history of space exploration depicted throughout the area located just across the water from where the magic happened. Nachos are always a great way to close out a visit, so we decided to hit the Mexican restaurant after the brewery for some farewell chips and guacamole and, of course, a round of margaritas.

Along with Siesta and Columba, we were off to anchor in New Smyrna the next morning. Releasing the mooring, we motored by Honah Lee to wish Tanner, Mindy and Chloe well as they had just sold their boat and were headed home. It was so great to meet them and spend a few days hearing about their adventures. It was a cloudy beginning to the travel day, but as soon as the winds increased, the sun emerged to brighten up the rest of the ride. We were traveling against the current most of the trip down the Haulover Canal which is more tolerable when the weather is picture perfect. A few hours into the trip Duane called my name with such urgency in his tone, I almost dropped lunch running out of the cabin. Just wanting to show me the picturesque landscape we were idling by, I was relieved and annoyed at the same time. As we were moving at a snail’s pace, I could have made the bed and washed dishes and still had ample time to leisurely make my way up to the fly bridge before we even came close to passing by the waterfront trailers that had him so enthralled.

After a rocky and rolly final few miles, we dropped anchor between Siesta and Columba and headed to shore to enjoy the afternoon. Walking down Flaglar Avenue, we headed to the beach to get a glimpse of the seashore. The waves were gently rolling in and we meandered along the coast stretching our legs enjoying the cool breeze. Ducking into Flaglar Tavern, the tunes from the one man band echoed through the bar as we sat by the window to people watch and have a late lunch. After having the group back for a “sundowner” on the boat, we all retired early with plans to anchor in Daytona the following day. It was only going to be a three hour ride and Duane was almost as excited to go to the marine consignment store when we arrived as he was for the SpaceX launch.

It was another slow moving travel day as we passed the Ponce Inlet onto the Halifax River, but today the air was stagnant and the humidity was terrible. If the water wasn’t brown and murky, I would have jumped in to cool off once the anchor was set. Have I mentioned lately how much we miss The Bahamas?! After tying the dinghies up at Halifax Harbor Marina, we caught an Uber to Surplus Unlimited. Upon arrival at the sprawling property, loaded with marine parts covering every inch, I knew it was going to be a struggle getting the Captain to depart in a timely fashion. To my surprise, as he took off to explore, I found some items that caught my eye. Namely, a piece of starboard which Harold said he would be able to cut down to size to repair the top of my cracked ottoman. Score! We all staggered out of the store with our various purchases and the Captain did not linger long after. We arrived at McK’s Tavern just as Happy Hour kicked off and, as I settled my plastic board against the wall, the men were going through their purchases marveling at what each had procured to enhance their lives on the water. Back on the boat, I was more than happy to stow away the many new items that found a new home on Bella Donna. Rob and Rhonda swung by and picked us up and we headed over to Columba for dinner. After a great meal, we turned in early once more as the next day was agreed on to be a 7am departure. As 8pm was known as “Looper midnight” for a reason, it was now way passed our bedtime.

It was a spectacular sunrise on the Matanzas River, and after cranking up the chain and pulling the anchor at 6:53 am just south of the Memorial Bridge, I washed the mud off my hands and took my place next to the Captain. We waved farewell for now to Siesta as they were planning to travel longer days heading for Brunswick, GA where they had decided to spend the rest of the season. Tying up to the floating dock at Palm Coast Marina, we unloaded the bikes, washed them down and waited for Columba. It felt great to be on the bikes again as we made our way to the bike trail along the water in Waterfront Park. With the wind at our backs, we hoped the breeze would keep the mosquitoes away. Following the signs for the Graham Swamp Trail, we soon encountered the most wondrous sight….Baby Armadillos! It was truly amazing to see these creatures scurrying about so we had to get close enough for a photo. On the way back from the park, we took a detour to ABC for wine and Publix for steak to BBQ for dinner. With all the goods strapped to our backs, we were off to the marina to have a nice enjoyable evening and I needed to nurse the many bug bites that were slowly swelling up all over my legs. Nature is a beauty and a curse sometimes. Another thing that is a curse sometimes…boat appliances. Upon arriving back to their boat, Harold and Deb came to the unfortunate realization that their refrigerator had stopped working at some point since last night. They hurriedly packed up all the perishables to store in our fridge for the time being as Harold figured out if he needed to purchase a new compressor. I was excited to get to St Augustine the following day and, as we planned to spend 5 days there, Harold would have an opportunity to have any parts he needed for repairs delivered.

We had a lazy morning our last day in Stuart as I squeezed one more relaxing shower in the schedule before filling the water tanks. Deciding to leave after lunch we enjoyed the fresh air on the dock while dining on our scrumptious taco and conch leftovers. And just like that, we were off again after being treated to another pleasant visit to Stuart-The Sailfish Capital of the World on Florida’s Treasure Coast.

Leaving St. Lucie County we were soon on the Indian River and off to explore virgin territory as we had not traveled this far North on the boat. Sadly, this accomplishment also put us on the homestretch closing in on the end of our epic adventure. We plan to travel slowly as there is so much on the East Coast we are so looking forward to experiencing.

Dolphins greeted us playfully jumping over each other as we turned into Fort Pierce and dropped anchor in Faber Cove. Timbuctoo was anchored in the area and we had made plans to catch up tomorrow. Our current plans were to sit back and enjoy a nice quiet evening while trying to avoid the dreaded no-see-ums. The next morning we dropped Baby Belle into the water and took a two mile dinghy ride to the dock at the Fort Pierce marina. Duane had rigged her up with a pair of fins he scored at the consignment store which gave us an extra 1 mph push. Anything helps 😃

Sitting on the deck overlooking the water we had a nice lunch at Cobb’s Landing before heading to the Sailfish Brewing Company. The brewery was open for outside service so we sampled the local craft brews and purchased our favorites to enjoy later on. Walking back to the dinghy dock we happened to pass by a couple setting up band equipment. Inquiring about the event, we were told the boat owner (who was actually napping inside) hired them to play that evening. I have been craving live music the last few months so our timing was perfect. We pulled up some chairs, popped open the Sailfish brews and were treated to a entertaining intimate concert on the water compliments of The Leafy Green Band. As the sun began to set, we reluctantly had to leave, and walked back to Baby Belle as Cheeseburger in Paradise played in the distance. A song so fitting for the many memories we’ve made on the trip. Stopping by to see Chuck and Maggie we hung out until the lightning started and then hightailed it home to hunker down before the skies opened up. That night we were both startled awake by a huge bang and ran outside to see if something had drifted into us. Relieved that we were intact, Duane chalked it up to a suicidal fish ramming the hull. We eased back into bed only to discover in the morning that our solar shower strap had snapped sending the 5 gallon bag of water plummeting from the fly bridge to the deck below creating the late night disturbance. Retrieving the hand pump, I dejectedly worked on emptying the water from the bilge as every drop had managed to seep inside.

The sunrise was spectacular that morning illuminating the whole cove. The rain held off until mid-day just as Columba arrived. After setting their anchor, there was a lull in the storm, so they made their way over to the boat for Happy Hour docktails.

Meeting Chuck and Maggie onshore early the next afternoon, we had an enjoyable lunch back at Cobb’s Landing as it was one of the only waterfront restaurants open at the moment. Heading over to Sailfish Brewery, a thunderstorm blew in, so we most certainly had to have a few rounds waiting for the rain to subside. Loading up on a few choice brews, we all went back to the dock during a break in the rain. Deciding to motor on the next morning, we checked in with Harold and Deb and coordinated a departure time of 9am.

It took thirty minutes the next morning to clean all the clay and black mud off the anchor and then off we went. Waving farewell to Timbuctoo, we followed Columba to Vero Beach not far up the waterway and grabbed a mooring ball in the harbor. Once we were settled, the four of us went to shore and hopped on the free bus headed to Publix and West Marine. Our mission at hand was to purchase food for a barbecue that evening and boat cleaner for the deck of Bella Donna. It was a successful outing and the smell of the barbecue wafting across the water ended a very pleasant day. The next day was hot and humid and there was little to no relief out on the mooring field. Deb and I took the dinghy ashore to do laundry and shower while the boys worked on the boats. After all our chores were finished, we regrouped and headed to the beach. The streets leading us to the water were lined with magnificent moss covered trees creating a canopy overhead. Vero Beach was packed with surfers and people soaking up the sun. It wasn’t yet Memorial Day, but the beach scene was in full swing. Trying to cool off in the shade, we sat under an umbrella on the deck of Mulligan’s Beach Bar with some cold drinks and nachos while social distancing with the other patrons. On the dinghy ride back to the boat, a pod of dolphins surfaced and we followed them for almost an hour watching them frolic around. Another thunderstorm sprung up that night, but unfortunately the no-see-ums were out in full force when the weather calmed and the winds died down. It looks like bug spray is definitely going to be my new best friend in the coming weeks. Before we left the next morning, we went over to Columba for a nice breakfast spread of bacon and eggs. I supplied the bacon and Deb cooked up the eggs and we combined our supplies to make a very nice meal to start off the travel day.

Following each other along the ICW, Sebastian Island was our next destination. To our dismay, the water was too shallow for Columba’s draft and they continued on to Melbourne. We dropped anchor off the channel and took Baby Belle on a bumpy ride to shore tying up at Finn’s Marina. After a quick stop at Walmart for some essentials (namely cookies for the Captain and the ice cream he has been longing for), we slid into a booth at Captain Harim’s Beach Bar to listen to the one man band belt out happy summer tunes. The crowd, most of whom had not been out in months, seemed ready to rise to the occasion cheering him on and dancing around the makeshift sand dance floor. When we were ready to call it a night, the water had calmed down significantly and we had a pleasant ride back to the boat. When the wind died, not only did the waters calm, but the temperature kicked up and the interior of the boat was like a sauna so I slept snuggled up with my fan all night long.

Arriving in Melbourne the next morning, we made the unanimous decision to grab a slip at the marina to ease our heat suffering souls. Immediately hooking up to the electric, we cranked up the air conditioner to make our living space bearable. Harold and Deb met us on land and we headed over to the Cuban Restaurant for lunch. Only open for outside dining, we sat on the patio, which was eclectically decorated with aviation paraphernalia, noshing on empanadas. Walking back through downtown Melbourne, Duane almost twisted an ankle when he saw an old school Schwinn for sale on the sidewalk and rushed to inspect the bike further. Deeming this a necessity as my bike was rusting away and slowly breaking down from the relentless salt water beating down on it, he purchased my “gift.” Heading over to Hell n’ Blaze Brewery for beer flights and big pretzels, he and Harold discussed all the new possibilities a bike which actually switched gears would open up for me. After listening to the riveting conversation, my only stipulation was that my old bike, which had been by my side through three countries, find a place in Melbourne. The next morning as I power washed the outside space and scrubbed the rust stains off the deck (a small plug…Barkeeper’s Friend is phenomenal!), Duane rinsed the bike down, oiled her up and gave her to a homeless man a few blocks away who was elated to have a new mode of transportation. Ohhhh and I only got a roll of the eyes for using a mild acid, but acid nonetheless, as deck cleaner. 10 months ago the Magic Eraser and I got the silent treatment for a day for a much smaller infraction….this trip has definitely mellowed some reactions…or over reactions 😁I do use the word SOME very loosely.

Later that day we had a quiet ride to Cocoa Beach and anchored close to shore right after the Causeway bridge. Duane’s friend Rob and his wife Rhonda were anchored close by and took their dinghy over to say Hello, see our boat and brought us back over to see their sailboat, Siesta, and have some cocktails. The weather the next day was terrible so we were unable to head over to the village on the opposite side of the ICW and instead went ashore to get some groceries. Just our luck, as we were checking out, a torrential downpour started. Quickly making our way over to Firehouse Subs in the same shopping complex, we ordered sandwiches and waited out the worst of the storm. Or so we thought….half way back to the dinghy dock, loaded down with the buy one get one free Bud Light Platinum 12 packs, the skies open up and had no mercy on us as we trudged through the streets. There were 6 inches of water in the dinghy when we arrived back at the docks and we sat in the pool heading back to the boat. Once the beer was safely in the fridge, I worked on bailing her out to prepare for our travels the next day. Rob and Rhonda had left a few hours prior and we planned to meet in Titusville for the historic SpaceX Launch in a few days along with Harold and Deb and friends they have been traveling with, Tanner and Mindy. I could see the anticipation in Duane’s eyes every time the subject of the launch came up and was so glad timing had worked in our favor for once.

Our travel days on the return trip from the Bahamas were as calm as we could have ever dreamed of. The day we left Bimini was no exception. The moonlight guided us out of the harbor and we turned toward the US with relatively no wind against us and small swells gently pushing us for the next few hours. The Gulf Stream was working with us on this crossing and blessed us with a favorable push across the border. The royal blue waters rippled under the bow as the sun was soon flickering off the crest of the swells like disco lights. I threw out the fishing line in a last attempt to haul in a big catch to close out our big sea adventure, but other than some nibbles, I had no luck.

After a super serene day on the water, we turned into the Port Everglades inlet around 1pm and were met head on with mass mayhem. Boats were zipping around haphazardly with little regard for those around them. We were getting rocked from every direction like we were battling the perfect storm. Even the idea of a “slow pass” was out of the question to these inconsiderate “Captains”-I use that word loosely. It had been weeks since I had to straighten up the cabin after a travel day, but the last 15 minutes of the trip tossed everything mercilessly around. Good thing the Captain’s socks have been safely hidden away. We looked at each other dejectedly wishing we could just turn around and retreat back to our island paradise.

We found it strange and unnerving that people were partying with no restrictions. We did not know what to exactly expect arriving back to the States during the pandemic, but this was definitely not the scene we envisioned. We arrived in Lake Sylvia and made two passes through the anchorage before we were able to situate Bella Donna in a favorable spot for the evening. Right now we were longing for our secluded anchorages overlooking white sand beaches listening to the roosters, not being rocked by jet skis and overwhelmed by techno music. The lake was surrounded by million dollar estates doing their best to one up each other as the music blared and revelers partied into the night. Jet skiers weaved their way between the buoys precariously close to those anchored toward the edge. It was sort of a culture shock for us.

The next day there was a torrential downpour. Grabbing our rain jackets which have not made an appearance in weeks, we went ashore to get some supplies. Ice Cream was at the top of Duane’s list as I was in search of a new toilet seat. The salt water and the wooden seat we set out with did not end up getting along very well. And we both agreed take-out from the Mexican restaurant was a perfect way to welcome ourselves home. It was surreal to walk through the streets and stores viewing the world behind a mask.

The rain continued most of the next day so I sautéed the remaining fresh conch we had procured with our friends in Bimini to cheer us up and bring back some very FINE memories. Duane went ashore to Kelly’s Corner to pick up some steamers and mussels and we indulged in our seafood feast and some red wine. We were reluctantly easing back into the more hectic boating life I had almost forgotten about.

Moving on the next day toward the Clematis dock in West Palm Beach, the sun had finally emerged. It was a slow moving day as we traveled along “bridge row” as I called this stretch trying to time the opening of each bridge we were too tall to pass under. There were about twenty bridges along the way and Bella Donna was not able to squeeze under seven of them. The Captain did an excellent job of speeding up when need be as to avoid idling thirty minutes in the channel for the next opening. It was also another trying day dealing with boat wakes, jet skiers and mega yachts as we were cut off left and right with not so much as a wave of acknowledgement. Tying up to the dock a little before 5pm, Duane popped open some sparkling Rose to continue the birthday month celebrations. After walking to the brewery, we were disappointed to learn they had re-closed the establishment as a result of Covid concerns while “rethinking their plan to reopen in a pandemic world” and settled on take-out from Papa John’s.

Moving on to The Stuart Corinthian Yacht Club the next morning, we had a brief glimpse of crystal blue waters that reminded us of the Bahamas while passing the Jupiter Inlet around the lighthouse. And just like that the image was gone….the water darkened, the banks were lined with cargo ships and the channel narrowed significantly making us slightly claustrophobic. I was so excited once we were tied up at the dock that I could hardly contain myself when the last line was secured. We hadn’t set foot in a marina since we had arrived in Bimini after that traumatic night in January. Now three and a half months later, I practically sprinted up the hill to enjoy the longest and hottest shower I had been able to enjoy in forever. Back on the boat, Duane turned on the air conditioner to get rid of the dampness that had engulfed every inch of our living space the last few months. We hooked up to the water connection and scrubbed our prized possession from bow to stern. Our no frills beach bungalow which had taken us safely around the Bahamas had now been transformed into a five star penthouse suite smelling particularly fresh.

Later that evening, we took Baby Belle across the bay to have drinks and appetizers at the Twisted Tuna. The outdoor area had just recently fully opened as well as the inside dining room being opened at 25% capacity. We hadn’t been at a bar or restaurant in two months and relished the idea of some normalcy returning to our lives. Then…we both cringed when the bartender manhandled the orange slice before dropping it in Duane’s beer with a splash. We chuckled as that was something I would never have even noticed in a pre-Covid world. Definitely a new normal.

Bob and Stephanie had already driven home to Connecticut by the time we arrived in town so we walked over to their house to pick up some packages Duane had shipped there while we were in the Bahamas and I dropped off a conch shell I managed to salvage from our excursion. Duane’s friend Chris and his wife, Maily, lived in the area and Chris was nice enough to pick me up to take me to the laundromat. Other than my manual washing machine, I had not properly washed clothes in two months so I pretty much filled the back of his truck with bags of salty crusty clothes, towels and sheets. As I threw load after load in the machines, I had flashbacks of the cool sea breeze blowing through the Bahamian laundromat overlooking the turquoise waters. Emerging onto the hot asphalt of the Publix parking lot to honking car horns, this scenario was far from the same. Duane was also going through Bahamian withdrawals as he became severely upset when he noticed the underwater lights only lit up a foot or so behind the boat now. In the Bahamas, we could see over 40 feet around us with the occasional Saul swimming through the glow.

The rain had returned in the morning so I decided to take advantage of the cool cabin temperatures and clean the inside of the boat as well as cook some travel meals while the Captain took off to the consignment store. It is better he tackle these adventures alone as to not feel rushed when scouring every inch of the shelves for “boat treasures.” Ordering dinner from the Yacht Club the prior day, the food was soon delivered to our door. We had a delectable meal of fish tacos and beef sliders with French fries….another staple I hadn’t realized we had been missing for so long. I know it will take time, but right now I’d give up french fries for one more Bahamian sunset. Not a possibility, I indulged myself in the crispy deliciousness as I caught a glimpse of the orange ski through the trees.

I was a little rusty preparing to travel the next morning double checking everything I hadn’t even thought about in the last 6 1/2 weeks we had been “sheltering in place.” Portholes and hatch secured, Baby Belle tied tightly to the stern, generator stowed, the radar arch line triple knotted and, of course, the engine lunch strategically placed, we glanced back one last time making a mental note of the splendor and beauty of the Family Island that had taken us in during these unprecedented times. We had left home 265 days ago which, on one hand seemed like forever, but right now we were dumbfounded how life had passed by in the blink of an eye even under the monotonous lockdown.

We were heading back up the Exuma chain and each of us mulled over our favorite spots and picked one must return to destination to reexperience before we headed home.

Our first stop was the Captain’s choice…Snorkeling the Aquarium off O’Brien Cay. Even though the wind had picked up, it was a calm day on the Bank with gentle stern rollers pushing us along. Arriving late in the day, we decided to snorkel in the morning as not to be rushed for time. Backing down on the anchor making sure it had dug in solid, we opened a bottle of wine and toasted to a successful travel day as the sun dipped below the horizon. Duane was like a kid on Christmas morning the next day. He had his snorkel gear lined up and was diligently cleaning his mask for optimal visibility when I woke up. The underwater camera was all charged and the dinghy ready to roll before I even brushed my teeth. The fish were extremely feisty that morning….maybe they hadn’t had many visitors due to recent circumstances and were swarming us as we slowly fed them crackers. They were constantly sucking at our fingers and masks and even nipping us with sharp little teeth. It also didn’t help that the Captain slyly sprinkled his crackers under me as I swam around unknowingly, thus creating some uncomfortable situations for both me and the fish. After we were out of fish food, we meandered over to a deserted island just beyond the snorkel spot to beach the dinghy and wade around the crystal topaz water. The tranquility was beyond measure as we sat on the sand listening to the breeze rustle the palm trees while breathing in the crisp salt air.

Arriving back at the boat in time for lunch, we planned on pulling anchor to motor over to Warderick Wells that evening. Half eaten chicken wrap in hand, Duane emerged from the cabin with a smile from ear to ear after hearing that Chuck and Maggie were on their way and he would have the opportunity to snorkel his favorite spot one more time before we headed out. Everything was perfect about the day….the brilliant sunshine, the pristine blue waters, the majestic fish darting about, the soft white sand…Climbing back into Baby Belle after round two of snorkeling, we wished Chuck and Maggie safe travels and made plans to meet up back in Florida.

It was a two hour ride to Warderick Wells and, being as calm as it was, we decided to travel out on the Sound outside the boundaries of the Exuma Park and do a little fishing. Well… while we did catch a fish, once it was filleted, the meat was just enough to make an appetizer. We had been looking forward to stopping at the North mooring field in Warderick Wells the whole trip as, when we were here on the way South, it was packed with cruisers enjoying the sun and surf reveling on the beach with music and cold drinks in hand. But, over two months later now, we battled the current into the cut and turned into the basin which was completely empty. There was not one boat in the mooring field, the chairs on the beach were stacked up and all the kayaks were stowed and locked away. The stillness was very eerie as we puttered passed one mooring after the other and eyed Boo Boo Hill looming over us. Out of the silence a voice came over the radio asking our intentions and, once satisfied we were traveling home, instructed us to pick a mooring and reminded us that the beaches were closed and we were not permitted on the island for any reason. It was definitely a letdown, but we were fortunate to be here in any case. As we dined on our appetizer of grilled yellow snapper, as the Captain had determined was our catch of the day, and barbecue chicken, we watched the sun sink low in the sky reflecting orange hues off the water. Five nurse sharks were doing laps around the boat (Saul’s relatives for sure) as a sea turtle was frolicking in the underwater lights. It wasn’t the scenario we were expecting a few months ago, but it was hard not to truly appreciate our surroundings and still be happy for the unexpected turn of events that led us here.

It was so serene in the mooring field that when the winds picked up the next morning, we decided to stay another day. A Royal Bahamian Defense Force boat came through late morning and wished us well. We spent the day doing relatively nothing but soaking in one of the last few days we had in our island paradise. Duane waited until the sun was high the next morning so he could fly the drone over the area. The footage was spectacular as the shades of cobalt and turquoise unfolded as the drone inched higher in the sky to capture the whole breathtaking landscape.

We let the mooring loose and set our course for Shroud Cay early the next morning. This was my must stop destination of choice. And it just so happened to almost be my birthday 😁. Traveling on the Bank snaking our way through the shifting shallow sandbars (we spent the better part of an hour trying to say that tongue twister fast five times…not too sure either one of us succeeded), we caught a glimpse of a few starfish in our path and brilliant coral formations that were scattered about. This time I was the one who was super excited to jump in Baby Belle and travel through Sanctuary Creek to one of the most amazing beaches I had ever seen. The creek was narrow and winding and, being a nature preserve, had baby mangroves being cultivated on the banks as well as curious turtles swimming about the shallow waters. The end of the creek spills into the most amazing water leading to the ocean we have set our eyes on the entire trip. A melding of brilliant turquoise, aquamarine and cobalt, the surf rolled over the sandbar providing a barrier to the deeper ocean waters. The island was completely deserted so the rest of the afternoon we strolled the white sand beaches and swam around letting the current sweep us into the creek and back again. The Captain even complied with my request to lay in the sun for a few moments to bask in the serenity of our private little oasis. Well, I did have to bribe him slightly, as I promised to help scrub the bottom of the boat when we returned later that afternoon. Since he valued the help, he didn’t really mind the “torture” and layered on the sunscreen.

The next morning was my birthday and I had been looking forward to making some pancakes, but was disappointed when I realized I had hard boiled all the eggs. The backdrop of a spectacular sunrise cured my momentary birthday blues quickly as we pulled anchor and plotted a course for New Providence Island. About half way to our destination, with no land or boats in sight, we traversed the Great Exuma Bank which was an ever changing spectrum of colors. The brilliant blue waters had shifted to deep emerald and seafoam as the depth and the sandy bottom evolved the further we pushed across. In the deep waters, I figured I would try my luck at fishing and almost caught my birthday dinner. A two foot long king mackerel (I think closer to three feet) had snagged my hook and, after we thought I had sufficiently tired him out, managed to wiggle himself free as we pulled him out of the water attempting to reel him on board. Another birthday letdown, he fought valiantly and deserved to live another day.

We anchored in West Bay off the coast of the island around 4:30pm and I had plenty of time to situate myself for my virtual birthday Happy Hour. I was overjoyed to see friends and family and felt blessed that everyone was doing well and took time to check in with an abundance of birthday wishes. Laughing as we updated each other on what was going on in our own secluded bubble, we longed for the day we can all physically get together. We have been away for 9 months now and I sometimes mentally plan out our “return to reality” party.

Leaving West Bay in the morning we motored passed the ritzy Lyford Cay and observed what looked like a Mayan Village being erected on the shore. Surely this was to become another extravagant getaway destination for the ultra wealthy. Soon we were traversing the deep royal blue waters of the Tongue of the Ocean. At depths of up to 8600 feet, I had an uneasy feeling about what creatures lurked below. Andros Island was prohibiting travelers to anchor off their shores at this time, so the next morning we set our sights on the Berry Islands. On one hand, we were excited to see a whole new island, but, on the other hand, since the area was basically shutdown, we could only realistically admire from afar. We dropped anchor in Chub Cay and decided to take Baby Belle to the Yacht Club to view the grounds at a respectable distance. There were 4 boats in the entire 100+ slip marina that choose to shelter in place after the borders were closed. One transient boater yelled from the dock that they had been holed up there for 6 weeks and nothing was available to them at the marina but water and electric. It was a truly surreal situation wherever we went.

We cruised around admiring the waterfront cottages and had a barbecue on the boat not a hundred yards from the now shuttered beach bar. It was a early night for us as tomorrow we planned on banging out 96 miles across the Great Bahama Bank. We settled in for the night as the moonlight shone through the hatch signaling the end of another fabulous day bringing us closer to home.

Duane roused me at 3:30am to begin preparations to pull anchor in thirty minutes. It was imperative that we arrived in Bimini before dark as to avoid the anchoring catastrophe we encountered our first night in the Bahamas many weeks ago. Guided by the moon that I had just fallen asleep gazing at not 5 hours earlier, we set off following the GPS coordinates leading us to North Bimini. At that point, we would have come full circle in our Bahamian adventure. Just as the sun was rising we encountered a tow guiding a huge barge through the emerald waters of the Northwest Channel. We exchanged pleasantries and the tow captain wished us safe travels as we passed effortlessly port to port. Our only other contact the whole day was a catamaran traveling a few miles ahead of us. It was nice to know we were not completely alone out there.

Actually, I misspoke, we did have an encounter a few hours later with some stowaways on the boat. I descended from the fly bridge into the cabin to get some refreshments and came face to face with Bradley who was just hopping around exploring our home. I think I scared him more than he scared me as he immediately took flight and crashed head first into the hatch. Not wanting him to injure himself, I ran upstairs to tell the Captain what had just transpired when I caught a glimpse of his companion, Sally, sitting on the tire of my bike on the bow. Three, as we named him, rode for a while on top of the solar panels, but took flight and left us midway into the trip. We prayed he found another boat to rest his wings as there was no land for fifty miles in any direction.

We decided to drop a line in the water and see if we could get a bite. No sooner had I let the reel out, I snagged something big which bolted. Duane slowed the engine down so I could secure myself with the rod, but to no avail. Whatever it was, snapped the line and took my favorite lure with him. Bradley eyed the whole event very conspicuously from under the barbecue. When the excitement was over, he perched himself right back on the window enjoying the sea breeze.

It was around 6pm when we made our turn toward the channel into North Bimini and, without so much as a flyby, Bradley made a beeline for the closest palm tree. We were sad to see him go. We dropped anchor just beyond the Hilton Resort World marina after a brief run-in with the shallow sandy bottom. I am sure we amused some locals on shore if they happened to catch a glimpse of us running from side to side across the back of the boat trying to build up some momentum to rock us free. Which actually did work…I have to give the Captain’s ideas some credit sometimes. Two customs officers called us ashore to check our documents and advised us on the protocols of the island under lockdown. It was definitely a long 15 hours and we looked forward to decompressing the rest of the evening with a cold refreshing rum cocktail.

Later the next morning we had planned to take the dinghy over to Fisherman’s Village under the bridge beyond the resort for some take-out. We had scoped out a nice place we could float around, eat and enjoy the beautiful afternoon. As we turned down the canal toward the bridge, we caught sight of a spectacular 65ft Viking named The Fine Experience docked at the marina. The hailing port was Block Island, RI. Being from our neck of the woods, we turned around to say Hello. This is where one chance encounter turned into two exceptionally FINE days that became the icing on the cake of an already once in a lifetime experience.

Upon meeting Matt, who owned the boat, and Cassie, we were floored after speaking with them for only a few minutes, when they offered us a drink, tied up our dinghy and drove us to town to get some beer and groceries. When we returned, Matt insisted we stay for drinks which stretched into an amazing night of laughs and conversation as well as a huge dinner spread of burgers, chicken, salads and I even tried barracuda. We were introduced to Jay and Stephan who worked at the resort as well as a lovely French couple on the catamaran, Jeredam, not anchored far from us. Matt showered us with T-shirts and bandanas, which doubled as face masks so they were perfect during the times we are living in at the moment, and I even scored a visor. Definitely an unexpected turn of events from when we set out that morning to head under the bridge for take-out (which coincidentally we never did make it to)…But this was FINE by us. Guided by our flashlight, we stumbled home planning to return the next afternoon to participate in the FINE Conch Experience.

I was excited the next day as I had never gone conching before. We were soon out on the dinghy pulling Matt and Cassie on the paddle board through the shallow waters outside the channel. Wading in knee deep water, occasionally falling in fish holes as we moved along, we scanned the area for the adult shells which had a flared lip which meant they were sufficient for gathering. It was the perfect setting as the sun glistened off the water and each one of us excitedly held up our catch as we dropped them one after the other into the buckets. We had soon gathered 22 conch as well as a starfish which Cassie had found searching from the paddle board. Back at the boat, the conch were unloaded onto the dock and the boys got busy with the hammers to extract the meat from the shells. Cassie made me a pina colada and we relaxed as they did all the hard work. That evening we were again treated like royalty as we were fed a delicious meal and endless cocktails and I was afforded the opportunity to take a luxurious shower. We would have loved to stay another day or two, but a tropical storm was developing and we figured it was safest to leave in the morning and not tempt fate. Wishing them well and safe travels, we thanked them profusely for taking us under their wing the last two days and we sincerely hope to cross paths in the future. If not sooner, we will surely be on the lookout in Block Island for their welcoming faces on The Fine Experience!

Matt’s motto was “keep living and pointing.” As he said many times, YODO…You Only Die Once. People need to live their lives to the fullest potential everyday no matter what. It is surely a FINE way to go through life. And we most certainly had a FINE Experience!

We ended the trip on a definite high note as we settled in for the night and reflected on how truly fortunate we are.

We were sincerely humbled by our experience in the Bahamas and learned more than ever not to take anything for granted. Grateful for the hospitality, thankful for the opportunity and hopeful for a better world, we set out of the harbor in the dark retracing our steps as to safely travel around the sandbars and pushed forward to the Gulf Stream. Next stop —Ft. Lauderdale, Florida.

We left Georgetown on a beautiful sunny day, March 13th, traveling on the Sound through lumpy beam seas. I was glad to be moving so I didn’t really mind the rocking that much for the first few hours. We had heard news reports of Covid-19 (Coronavirus) disrupting the US as well as other countries and death reports from Italy were all over the internet when we were able to get cell service a few miles into the trip. At this point, we still had not grasped the severity of the situation being as removed as we were. Life in the Bahamas seemed to be moving along as normal.

After fueling up at Emerald Bay, we were on the move again now running only on the Port engine as Starboard had developed a transmission leak. Approaching the Rudder Cay Cut, I could see through the binoculars standing waves at the entrance and knew the battle across the threshold was not going to be fun. The unsettled water looked like it could swallow us whole as we powered through the turbulence created as the tide and current opposed each other. It was the longest 5 minutes as we felt like we were standing still trapped in the swirling waters dropping the bottom out from under us with every approach. Finally breaking free, we made it clear of the cut and anchored safely away from the nasty current off Rudder Cay. The oil in the transmission looked like strawberry milk from water seeping inside so the Captain was not pleased. He was even more dejected when the vacu-flush pump on the toilet ceased up and he had to take the unit apart to replace the clogged valves. It was literally a shitty job I wanted no part of so I jumped in the water to scrub off some boat scum and make myself look busy.

The next day we moved on arriving back to visit Black Point Settlement. Port had to step up its game and, after idling twice so the Captain could adjust the shaft which was overheating, we had a relatively calm ride through the crystal blue topaz waters dotted with starfish and stingrays darting about. Heading to Lorraine’s for the weekly BBQ that evening, we made sure to stop by Momma’s house for some bread to be able to consume on our travels. There were other cruisers at Lorraine’s discussing the possible pandemic and the news, turned on low in the bar, was reporting school closures, the shutdown of Broadway in Manhattan, bars and restaurants locking their doors, the St. Patrick’s Day Parade being called off and that the NBA basketball season was postponed. We couldn’t believe what we were hearing.

Before we pulled anchor and continued forward, we had a carefree afternoon as I sat in my favorite spot overlooking the water and did some laundry, Duane collected sea glass along the shore and we had a farewell drink from the gazebo at Emerald Grill watching the brilliant colors of the sun sink below the horizon.

Staniel Cay was a little more than 7 miles away. We planned to only stop for two days as Duane had a job in Maine and I was flying back to NY on April 5th to have a much anticipated visit. We wanted to get back to Florida to put the boat somewhere safe at the end of the month before we had to leave her and travel North.

That was 45 days ago! 😳 And, needless to say, our plans have drastically changed. Today is April 29th and we are still anchored in Staniel Cay sheltering in place as the world is being held hostage by Covid-19. Now, let me backtrack a little….

Life on the island of Staniel Cay was relatively normal when we arrived. The first day we went snorkeling into Thunderball Grotto which we missed the opportunity to explore on our first trip. It was a marvel to experience as the sun beamed through the rocks lighting up the cavern and the fish sucked on our masks and fingers as we fed them crackers. Mega yachts and charters were docked at the marina and tour boats were still arriving even though the cruise ships were starting to be turned away from Nassau. Stopping at the Staniel Cay Yacht Club, we sat at the bar, ordered fish tacos and some drinks and were perfectly situated to watch the fishermen feeding a pack of nurse sharks as they cleaned their catch causing a huge frenzy in the water. We had not been able to come ashore when we visited on the way South, and we were pleasantly surprised as we made our way through the streets on the small island. The little laundromat also doubled as the liquor store, the grounds of the marina and restaurant were clean and well manicured and the Yacht Club offered fuel and water. There were three grocery stores- Pink Pearl, Burke’s Blue Store and Isle General— which, though expensive, sold all the necessities. The cottages and homes were painted in various pastel colors lining the waterfront and there was even a mural in honor of the pigs on the beach we parked Baby Belle on.

St Patrick’s Day had arrived and, before we went to have our share of green beer, we took the opportunity to snorkel in the Grotto again as we were now anchored right outside. Although someone had forgotten the green food coloring for the beer, the bar was festive and we met a lovely German couple who were renting one of the cottages. After conversing with them, we came to the realization that not only did the marina include three meals a day with the cottage rental, they were given use of a 17 foot Boston Whaler which traveled at 25mph to explore the outlying islands for the length of their stay. Florian was not so experienced with the boat, so Duane offered to be a tour guide of sorts and we gave them our location and an invitation to stop by the next day. Bright and early the next morning we heard a jolly Hello from outside and walked out of the V-berth to see Florian and his wife all ready for a day on the water. After we snorkeled the Grotto yet again, we took them on a trip over to Rachel’s Bubble Bath as they had never been and weren’t sure how to get there. Today our timing was perfect…high tide and some wind. To our delight, the waves crashed continuously over the rocks as we were engulfed by the bubbles again and again. Heading back toward Staniel, we made a pit stop to the sandbar off Sampson Cay to walk the white sandy stretch and marvel at the beauty we were so privileged to be surrounded by. Duane and Florian were both equally obsessed with drones so the Captain was happy our new German friend brought his along to capture our afternoon adventures.

Bidding them both farewell that evening after a fabulous fun-filled day, we wished them well on their continued travels through Florida after departing the Bahamas and to getting home to Germany safely as we had heard the States were beginning to shutdown more and more with each passing hour.

After grocery shopping the next day, we moved the boat over to Big Majors off Pig Beach as the swells near the Grotto were rocking us around more than we were comfortable with once the wind shifted. We took the dinghy over to Cruisers’ Beach and met two couples from the Chesapeake Bay Area who were heading home with uncertainty due to the Coronavirus and pleads from their family.

That evening everything changed…the Foreign Ministry of the Bahamas announced schools will be closing and a 9pm curfew (extended to a 24 hour curfew three days later) was being imposed to prevent the spread of the virus keeping in step with guidelines from how the United States was reacting. As of this date, March 20th, there were 4 cases on New Providence Island. The Staniel Cay Yacht Club was now only open for take out, beaches were closed and we could basically only come on shore for necessities and 90 minutes of exercise. This was just the beginning of the lockdown. Our plans to travel home for a visit had been dashed, Duane’s job cancelled until further notice and we were in relative limbo in paradise.

We were still able to dinghy to watch the shark feeding, but not go ashore. We were still able to go feed the pigs, but not land on the beach. We were still permitted to dinghy to town for groceries and to throw garbage, but we must wear a mask, stand 6 feet apart from others and not linger. To break up the daily monotony, we began to hop in the dinghy and have sunset happy hour practicing social distancing and waving at other boaters as we pass by…sometimes idling by to chat at an acceptable distance away. We began a James Bond movie marathon to pass the time some nights or we played Monopoly cards (which the Captain has become very competitive at). And don’t forget Atari which I packed as a surprise when we left home last August. Frogger has never been so entertaining and I’ve all but mastered Asteroids. Duane and Rex the Rooster are at odds most mornings as the Captain is convinced he is either blind or can not tell time when he begins his racket at 4am. Bill (the bird) has gone from being a nuisance for pooping on the dinghy constantly to an expected lunch guest on a sunny afternoon.

One afternoon Duane had the desire to film the pigs with the drone. I was therefore enlisted to drive the dinghy to go attract the pigs into the water so he could get the best footage. As the drone propellers whirled overhead, the situation soon became overwhelming as the pigs attacked Baby Belle, I tried to throw food and keep her straight, and then the birds started to dive bomb around me. I made the decision to abort the mission and raised the throttle to escape just as a pig happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time and was “slightly” run over. No matter what Duane’s rendition of the events are, the poor pig was traumatized but relatively unharmed and made his way quickly to shore. Apart from this excitement, life for us has slowed down significantly and, though it was not a voluntary choice, we are grateful to be safe, healthy and locked down with a spectacular view. Though it is a tease at times since we can no longer experience the splendor to its fullest.

Not to be cliche, but it seems to truly be the end of the world as we know it. Our days stretching into weeks in Staniel Cay have become reminiscent of Groundhog Day meets Survivor. Granted we have been able to get some projects completed as Duane sewed the new dinette cushions, installed his outdoor sunshade, and ordered and since replaced the transmission cooler which was leaking on the Starboard engine. I cleaned the boat inside and out and took inventory of our supplies over a few afternoons. I’ve resorted to washing clothes in a bucket or using my manual washing machine when I am able to boil water. Showering in the salt water and rinsing with fresh water to conserve what we have in the tank has been a necessary compromise. Shaving my legs off the swim platform soon became a normal occurrence. Once I stopped complaining about eating Spam and drinking Pabst’s (PBR), Duane knew this all had to come to a head sooner than later as he was questioning my sanity. Once the transmission cooler was installed, our highlight some days was pulling anchor and moving the boat around to different parts of Staniel Cay depending on the way the wind was blowing.

Debi and Chris on Believe had arrived soon after the curfew was imposed, but since we had been traveling with them and, there were no reported cases on the Family Islands, we social distanced together for the few days and nights they were in Staniel Cay. It was a nice reprieve to the monotony we had endured as of late and we took the opportunity while we could to hit the highlights of the neighboring islands with them even though it was our fourth or fifth time in some of the areas. In the evenings, we enjoyed dinner and cocktails together and stirred up some friendly competition over Mexican Train. They were a great couple and needed to return to the States for medical reasons so were heading back to Florida regardless of the “shelter in place” orders. We had originally hoped to travel with them on the mainland, but were very skeptical of that possibility now.

The next day Timbuctoo arrived and we were overjoyed to see Chuck and Maggie again. We had moved the boat over to Between the Majors where they had anchored and stopped by for some drinks. They, like Believe, have a water maker on their boat and generously extended the offer for us to take hot showers and fill our water jugs. We have now spent the last month together and they have been our savior. Not just supplying us with much needed water and showers, they afforded us an outlet for social interaction as we regularly have drinks together to blow off steam and just appreciate the life we have before us no matter how much lack of control we seem to have at the moment. And, of course, to partake in impromptu dance parties.

The month of April is a complete blur…the sun rises and sets around us as we wait for some normalcy. Duane has named the shark who sleeps by the boat at night Saul and has regular conversations with him to obtain a different perspective when I’m not on board with a bright idea he has. He thinks Saul is his friend, but I think he is just waiting for the food scraps we discard in the water. The Bahamas started to impose a complete shutdown of the islands from 9pm Friday until 5am Monday which has now been extended throughout the whole month of May. Chuck and Maggie are no longer able to move South to Grenada as borders are still closed, so they plan to head back to Florida with us. We also spoke with Chris and Catherine and they too gave up plans to take their dream trip to Grenada and are on the way back to Canada. Having Zoom calls with friends has raised my spirits and we are in constant contact with family back home assured that everyone is doing well during these unprecedented times.

People debate if trashing the whole economy is worth letting the virus run its course. Why can’t individuals be more self conscious about social distancing and hygiene practices while still able to conduct a relatively normal daily life? Others debate that quarantine and complete shutdowns isolating everyone by mandatory means is the only way to curb the invisible killer lurking amongst us. In the end, we will never know what would have happened and can only pray the powers that be took the more prudent course…there is no turning back now and the virus is still running rampant.

And what about the beer! Millions of kegs are going stale in venues when doors were shuttered right before St Patrick’s Day and March Madness. Not to make light of all the suffering, this is just an example of the economic devastation which is bubbling up and will envelop every aspect of our country.

As we sit here and ponder our own existence going forward, we have no choice but to do just that and move forward. We pray for those sick, dying and those who fought valiantly but ultimately succumbed to the killer. We pray for their family and friends who were unable to comfort them when they needed it most. We pray for all those on the front lines who act as doctor, nurse, caregiver and counselor since their patients are cut off from everyone else. We continually pray that they stay safe and healthy as they put themselves and the families they go home to after an excruciating day at risk. We also pray that our family and friends stay safe and healthy during all this madness.

We have come to terms that the rest of our trip will not materialize as planned. We move on with trepidation as to what awaits us as we make plans to move up the East coast to complete our Loop journey.

Once we made our decision to leave, the final few days in Staniel Cay we squeezed in all of our “lasts” and filed our plan with the government requesting permission to travel through the Bahamian waters making only the necessary stops to sleep and as the weather permits. All these preparations to head back to the United States were made as the Bahamas announces a reported 81 cases in the country which have resulted in 11 deaths and the whole world is on the brink of disaster.

We will pull anchor tomorrow, go through the cut around Fowl Cay for the seventh time, and this time not just move around the bend for a change of scenery, but head for home.