In many ways, Cruising is like "checking out". One day we just took off on the boat. It was like so many other days, motoring east on the ICW out of Port Aransas with dolphin jumping at our bow as if they approved, only that particular day we never returned. We just kept going. And from that day forward, our lives were changed.
Flying over the east coast! Officially back in the US!
We are among the lucky few who somehow get away. At first it's all new and exciting, and then eventually it becomes our new normal. We grow accustomed to not having to do the things we used to do. Don't get me wrong, we still have to take care of ourselves. Laundry, grocery shopping, cleaning "house", paying bills, and the relentless parade of boat repairs, all take the place of the things we used to do. Things like driving to work, working, and worrying about work.
We still work. We just do it differently. And most of the time it's good. As you know, we've been through the ringer these last few months with boat repairs and maintenance that have been almost overwhelming. But throughout all of this, we've still been in control of our destiny. Well, as much as anyone ever really is anyway. We've been making our decisions based upon OUR plans. And considerable worry, preparation, and expense has gone into the making of those plans.
What IS this plan of which I speak? Long-story-short - we were going west. We joined a sailboat rally - the Suzie TOO Ocean Cruising Club Rally from Curaçao to Belize - and it starts this coming November and ends in April. We paid the club dues, we bought the cruising guides and we began to get our boat in shape for making the six month trek to new cruising grounds.
Crossing the Harbor Bridge was surreal. How did I get here again???
And then the wheels fell off! The worst thing about being in charge of your own destiny, is when suddenly you are NOT. And then it is a horrible shock to the system! The mind gets used to the new life and when something disrupts that, it's doubly hard to take! And that is what happened.
When we began cruising back in 2013, my daughter was living in our townhouse while finishing college. After graduation she moved to California and married a Navy man, leaving my mother living in our townhouse.
It was a good deal for all. The place was paid off so expenses were low. It was close to my brother's house so my mom could be a bigger part of his young children's lives, and it was in a very safe community. Having her there gave us the option of keeping the place until we were SURE we liked cruising! It allowed us to put off disposing of all our worldly goods while giving the housing market time to improve. For a while, everything was great. Until it wasn't.
Always looking to be out in nature. The lake near my daughter's home!
Let's just say that a daughter does not throw her mother out onto the street without a valid reason, and leave it at that. Suddenly, the plans that Bruce and I had sunk so much time and effort into bringing to fruition, were thrown out. Days of soul-searching brought to light two hard facts. First - that Bruce did not want to go to Panama. And second - that it was time to sell the townhouse.
The luxury of putting off that final break from our former lives was no longer mine. I booked my flights and got Bruce ready for a month of bachelorhood while my mind spun out of control. So many things would have to be done. Instead of taking our time and working out the details, I had to think of everything FAST. I would have less than a month in the US during which I had to essentially close out our lives in Texas.
I had to move us to Florida where my firstborn lived. Voting, taxes, banking, everything had to be shifted. AND of course there was the STUFF! Thankfully, I've got a daughter that's vying for sainthood - I will never know what I did to deserve such a child - but she not only agreed to accompany me from Florida to Texas, but she would take a two week sabbatical from her home, business and her life in order to help me get the townhouse ready for sale.
As it turned out... it was I who helped HER! She was the steady one while I leaned more to wallowing and maudlin self pity. She kept us moving forward when I got bogged down with the discovery of each one of the thousands of lovingly collected treasures that told the story of our lives. Each piece of art or blanket made by a loved one no longer with us, each anniversary present or photo of us in a wonderful place, each piece of furniture chosen together and laden with joyful ghosts of times past - brought on new and more terrible waves of nostalgia. She kept us going when I wanted to break down and cry.
Texas!
We worked tirelessly while I quietly died a little more with each load taken to Goodwill. I tried to hide the tears that fell as my hands let go of so many treasures while my heart did not. I had forgotten just how much joy a house could hold, until I had to rip it all up by the roots and throw it callously out. How I didn't dissolve into a trembling heap is a mystery. Only my daughter's strength and determination kept me going.
My old beach at sunrise
It is all a blur. Each morning we would get up early, have coffee and take Kira for a walk on the beach or the Bayfront. While these walks served as a baseline that reminded me of the life I live back on the boat - and why I live there, they brought a new rush of melancholy. I felt like a turtle that was hatched on a beach long ago, and this was the last time I would return to the beach of my birth.
Last Beach Walk
How many times have I walked these beaches there is no way to count. But the count stops now. It struck me that it's been a long time since I had to mark any "lasts". It's all been "firsts" for some time now. Lasts are hard.
Kira just having fun!
Pelicans riding the updrafts where Bruce and I used to walk the seawall. So. Many. Times.
Somehow we got through it. Twelve days. We cleaned. We sorted. We gathered. We loaded. It took us three days to clean the kitchen and bathrooms. Then we started upstairs. We moved everything downstairs, including an attic FULL of stuff! The townhouse has closets and cabinets to hold a lifetime and all of it had to be sorted into piles - some was garbage, some was to donate and the precious few things that I kept were pared down twice over into an ever-smaller pile.
The rented vehicle we were driving had only so much room. And much of it would be taken up by the three dacron sails that Bruce and I wanted to make sure got to the fishermen in Haiti. Ever since our visit there, we've wanted to get those sails to the Haitian people. They need so much and have so little, but with our donated sails, they can go out and fish to support their families and community. In the end, that was worth more to us than stacking another box of keepsakes at my daughter's house. And it helped my heart gain a little bit of ground - putting into perspective the true value of so many things we have, while others have so little.
This is where I got the strength...
We worked from sunup to long after cruiser's midnight. Our bodies sore from unaccustomed work and our minds spent from the enormity of it all, we slept each night like the dead. Each morning we got up and did it all over again. There were so many things I wanted to do while we were there. So many people I wanted to see... places I wanted to visit for maybe the last time. I needed closure but the agenda came first.
Lucky for me, we had to EAT! Meals were the one time we could legitimately take a break, and if it included visiting with friends - all the better. We went out to our old Yacht Club's new place - a boat! There were lots of new faces but plenty of old ones and everyone made us feel so welcome.
The Bayfront where we used to sail
We went to my old office and I got to see how they've changed the place up. I chatted with my former co-workers and bosses and it was bittersweet. I don't miss the work, but I do miss the people. My Lydia brought her baby boy over to see us and we sat around watching baby Luke feed Cheetos to Kira! It was wonderful seeing Lydia and getting to meet her little miracle.
My dear departed friend Mimi's husband and his sister dropped in on us one afternoon and Charlie returned the following evening. Time stood still as we sat and talked and reminisced about her. My heart still breaks for her and it did me good to be able to talk to Charlie about her. No-one will ever fill the hole in my heart that she left, and now I'm leaving our neighbourhood where her ghost still roams in my mind.
Friends dropped by and brought food and wine because we couldn't leave for waiting on strangers to come at all hours to take away the house full of furniture. Melissa put each piece on Facebook Marketplace and orchestrated all the wheeler-dealing. I couldn't have done it. She was efficient and final. It all had to go, no matter that it was for nothing more than the price of the rental car for the two weeks. Yes, that's right. All my worldly goods were given away but for the price of a rental car.
My Bayfront!
These little knocks on my heart were patched over by the kindness of friends. We shared meals with our old buddies and I got to tell them about our adventures. They offered us help - the loan of a vacuum cleaner - the offer of a place to sleep once the furniture was gone... I accepted gladly because it meant I could spend more time with them.
The days dwindled and it seemed like there would be no way it would all get done. Melissa was pushing herself hard to trim a day or two so that she could get back to her life in Florida. It was all I could do to keep up the pace.
We met with the realtor and the paperwork was signed. Then by some miracle, everything was suddenly done. The painting was finished, the new carpet installed and two additional days of hard cleaning were behind us. Then the last of the furniture disappeared. We literally closed the front door on people loading my bedroom furniture and drove out the garage in back, never to return. The few treasures in the back of the Explorer were all that's left of my 50+ years. A pile of photo albums, some baby books, a few medals and some things I thought we could use on the boat. And those sails. That's it. A life.
I have no pictures of the process. I was working too hard and emotionally detached so taking photos was not happening. I did hastily take some short video of the place just before we closed the door for the last time. Not great, but it's all I have of the house that was once our home.
The house looked good, if somewhat lonely. I guess it's not too late to change my mind, but really it is. That ship sailed.
One last look back at Corpus Christi, the city of my birth.
Eyes front! No looking back! The iconic Harbor Bridge was festive but my mood was somber
We drove across the bridge to Portland where Anne and Dave had grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup ready to welcome us into their care. Their hospitality provided a neutral place to transition from the mental drama of these past two weeks.
I know I've had a lot longer to get rid of my stuff than many cruisers do. It has been a luxury and it would have been nice to have had our leisure to go through it all and really take care in disposing of our treasures. But I have to say that already the pain is receding (as long as I don't think about it), and as brutally abrupt as it was, I'm glad that it's done now.
Driving away from the land of my birth was hard too. The fields, the Bay, the wide open spaces that are my Texas home will go on without me, as I will without them. I have to turn my thoughts to the future. The house will sell and Bruce and I will be truly free. With our girls living in other states, we weren't going back there anyway really.
Driving into a rainbow is a good omen, right?
Back in Florida, I used my remaining week finishing up some business and spending time with my daughter and her husband. I cried a little and continued mentally processing everything that has happened in the past month. Boxes of boat parts stacked up in my room and I had to pack and repack to get it all home with me.
The day arrived when my daughter put me on a plane back to my home. The month behind me was a blur, but my boat with my husband and my cat were waiting for me. I couldn't wait to get back to where I belonged and maybe have some R&R to finish processing.
Leaving the US again - for how long? Who knows!
But I should have known that was a ridiculous dream! Customs was a drama, the shower fixture had quit working, and oh yes, the broken thru-hull had to be replaced so the boat wouldn't sink! It took me a couple of days, a visit to a doctor to make sure I wasn't having a heart attack, and more than a few tears, but I'm better now. The past month was not as we wished or planned, but now that it's over I realize... what's a month of my life compared to the adventure before me?
Oh, and the plan? Well we aren't going west anymore. The pressure is off. Until a new plan rises to the surface, we're just going to enjoy the Eastern Caribbean until we're done cruising.... then, who knows! We're FREE!
That's the truth of it. You CAN run... but you can't hide from being an adult. The perception is that Cruising is one long vacation. A vacation from the life we left behind. A vacation from worry. A vacation from problems. Just a vacation from being an adult in general. And for a time, that is true.
But eventually it all catches up with you. Paradise is a fleeting state of mind. It keeps us going. It keeps us focused long enough to break the chains that bind. And for a while, we frolic and play in this Caribbean Paradise without a care. But then the other shoe falls, and it's such a shock to the mind that has enjoyed such Paradise, it is far more dramatic than it should be.
Perhaps the mind becomes "rusty" at dealing with reality. The fight-or-flight function that helps us deal with the day-to-day dramas back in the real world relaxes and gets flabby. That's the only way I can account for the profound stress I felt during this difficult time.
The long month on-the-hard was supposed to be over. I held out as long as I could and it was supposed to all be alright after we splashed. Instead, the nightmare (in my mind) continued. Once floating again, it took all of my strength of will not to just give up. But slowly, with the help and advice of friends, I formulated a game plan.
The old plan: Splash our shiny new boat and head for Bonaire for some fun, then on to Curaçao. Once there, we would replace the 11 year old standing rigging and have a survey so that we can shop for new insurance.
But now, all of my work in coordinating that plan was for naught. I had to know if our boat was seaworthy. We could not head out to the Western Caribbean with these doubts in my mind. And here I have to insert that it was in my mind and not in Bruce's. I guess it's my fear of the unknown driving me, but I had to know why our boat was doing this thing. I tried, but I just couldn't let it go.
And so, I dug in and started asking questions. Directed by suggestions of other boat owner/friends, I made my plan. The first place I went looking for information was the boat builder. Our boat was built in Largo, Florida, and the yard there has a guy still on staff who was there! He advised us and pointed us in the direction we needed to go. Get a surveyor out to look at the boat.
All fingers seemed to point that way. Mr. Neils at Clarke's Court had said the same thing. So, we asked around, found an accredited Surveyor and a new plan was born. Instead of waiting until Curaçao for the haul out and survey, we would do it here in Grenada.
Sperry calling it Ready to EAT!
So we scheduled it all with Spice Island Boatyard and we waited for our day.
Trying to get back into "Cruiser Mode", we went to an Oil Down on Hog Island
Bruce had the meat pot, while I enjoyed the vegetarian version.
I had extra good veggies that Bruce didn't have!
We took our jib in for inspection and repairs.
While we waited for our date with the Surveyor, life went on. Since we were postponing our run to the ABC's, we would just go ahead and have the rigging done here in Grenada as well. No use sitting here for nothing, and if it could all be finished before leaving Grenada, we could start a fresh new life with all boat projects behind us!
And we had a LONG list of boat projects. We wanted to clean the boat up and fix the myriad of small things that we had put off, so that the boat would be in tip-top shape when the Surveyor came. First impressions are everything. We combed over the boat, cleaning and shining and putting things away.
Up she comes again!
For days it seemed that for each thing we checked off the To-Do list, three more things were added. I can't tell you how good the act of marking a line through a list item feels. Eventually it came down to prioritizing, because there was no way to get EVERYTHING done before the big day arrived.
Finally it was here. We were ready. The boat was washed and shining. Everything was stowed to make a clean look that, during the time we've owned her, our boat has never seen. We would have enjoyed the prideful feeling if it hadn't been for the underlying fear of what the surveyor would say when he saw that little crack...
We pulled up to the dock at Spice Island Marine and welcomed Neil aboard. We confessed our little problem to him, showed him the prior survey comments about it, and we talked about it in depth.
After that, we both felt very much relieved. His manner was easy and inspired confidence that we would get a fair and thorough survey. He went about his work on the outside of the boat as we hovered a short distance away.
We returned and answered some questions and then we went down below for the inside inspection. We took Neil through all of our systems and showed him things he couldn't find. Before he could finish, our time in the loading bay arrived. He would have to resume his inspection on the hard.
The word "nervous" just does not convey the range of emotions I felt as they brought our home back out onto dry land for the second time. Think anxiety; dread; cold fear. All of the advice we'd been given about what to do was swirling around in my head. We wanted a clear consensus from the pros, that would lead us to the right way forward.
Our little booboo actually looked good. The hasty do-for repair Anderson did back in Clarke's Court was holding nicely and you almost couldn't see it. If it weren't for the fact that we were about to be placed on blocks once again, which could cause the crack to reopen... we could have just quietly had the survey done and plopped back into the water. But I had to know. I had to have peace. My Crazy had to be quieted.
Upon arrival to our little piece of real estate for the night, the shit sort of hit the fan. I had mentioned to the yard staff at every phase of this event, that we had been advised NOT to place the weight of the boat onto the keel. Keep in mind here that we do not know what we're talking about, and are relying on the advice of SO many experts. And also keep in mind, that there are more expert opinions than there are stars in the sky, so we've had to do our best to wade through them all to come up with a plan.
When I told the yard crew not to put it on blocks at THIS moment, they went nuts. They called the yard manager, and then he called the yard owner. All of them convened with lots of glances in my direction and waving of arms. I met them head on with the assurance that we would abide by whatever decision they made. I told them the problem and we all agreed that the boat must be placed on blocks. It wasn't safe, or good for the hull, to let the full weight rest on the chock stands.
As a compromise, they would go lightly on the blocks to try to reduce the flex of the hull. I consulted with the surveyor about this and he agreed that it was the right choice. And so, action resumed. Anderson was already on the scene and he consulted with the surveyor and the yard owner, while I went up that perilous ladder to see what havoc Jezabelle had wrought during the moving of the boat. Grace shone upon me that day as I found her lying on the floor, peaceful and oblivious to any peril.
Thankful for small favours, I invited Neil (the surveyor) back in, and he resumed his work while Anderson got busy down below, removing the prior filler and fiberglass, grounding it back down and then putting on another, more robust layering of filler and fiberglass.
The survey was concluded. The only ding was for having two fire extinguishers (of the four onboard) that were part of a recall we had not heard about. They weren't expired, but they would have to be replaced.
Bruce and I were beyond relieved that finally, things were working out. There were a few small things that we could easily correct, but overall, we came through the survey with flying colours! All of our days - weeks - of hard work finally paid off!
Our beautiful bottom job now all splotchy!
At the end of the day, Anderson said his goodbyes and we went below to take a look.
Other than the fact that we now had a big splotch on our bottom, it looked just fine. But it had looked just fine the last time.
Somehow I had to get through another sleepless night, kept up with worry about what would happen the next day. How could I keep it together if I heard that horrible sound again when they lift the boat???
The repair had lots of time to cure as our splash time wasn't until 2pm the next day. We were ready when the yard crew arrived exactly on time. I have to tell you that in comparison with Clarke's Court... they may be the preferred yard of choice here in Grenada, but as one who has experienced BOTH in rapid succession, I can wholeheartedly recommend Spice Island as my first choice. There are good things about both, but the customer service and care here at Spice Island is by far superior.
The crew arrived and made their preparations while Bruce and I stood watching every move. My heart was in my mouth as the engine revved and the straps began to tighten around our home. I had considered waiting out of sight and earshot so that I wouldn't see it if it cracked again. I knew full-well that if I did, Bruce would never tell me if it had cracked. So, in the end, I stood watching.
My joy knew no bounds! We did it! We went the extra mile and made it good. And we were rewarded. This thing that had taken on a life of its own in my mind, was banished! It's going to be OK...
They lowered us back down to the welcoming wet world that is our home, and we joyfully motored away.
But...
Any bigger and I'll mistake it for a BOOB!
Our joy was overshadowed by that Adulting I mentioned before. While we had been running from the real world, it was catching up to us in other ways... During the midst of all of this boat drama, there were three other sub-plots playing in our movie.
About two months ago, a tiny speck appeared on my chest. I watched it grow in silence, trying to determine if it looked like a squamous cell carcinoma that Bruce had removed some years ago. And while it didn't look exactly like his, it was growing very fast and it caused me discomfort. It itched and sometimes felt very tender. It got red and inflamed if it got much sunshine. I could no longer postpone admitting to Bruce that it was time we made an appointment with a dermatologist.
I love the simplicity of island medical offices
We found ourselves walking in St. Georges one morning and Bruce suggested we pop in. We found the office of Dr. Jenny Isaacs and made our appointment for the following day.
Key the violins! My world was thrown back into turmoil as, of course, Dr. Isaacs recommended that my little bump must come off.
Bruce also had one suspicious spot that needed removal, so we made appointments to come back three days hence for the minor surgical procedure that would rule my thoughts between now and then. My fear of needles and my fear of having chunks gouged out of my body made for some nightmarish days. How I wished that she could have just done it then and there.
But the day came. I let Bruce go first, which was a good plan except for the fact that I could smell the burnt flesh when I walked into the room after he was done. Somehow, I willed my feet to propel me forward, and submitted my body for some torturous (in my head) moments, as I struggled to blank out what was happening.
One small stinging prick and I felt nothing but the blotting of blood between benign touches. Then more benign touches as the smell of burning flesh flooded my nostrils. I held my breath, trying not to smell the scent that would send me to the floor if I wasn't already lying down. I got clammy and sweaty and felt a roaring in my head. My vision turned white and I said I thought I was going to faint. They fanned me with fresh air and I felt better. Big breaths, almost done. And DONE!
My mixing cups.
After a half hour to recover, we paid our bill - all said and done for consultation/exam/excision of lesions for two - $300 US. We made our way swiftly down to the market one block below, where I ordered a Ting and a shot of spiced under-the-counter rum. We sat in the midst of bustling local commerce as my mind gradually came back to me. That languid elixir calmed my nerves and brought me peace.
It was over. One drama down. Two more yet to conquer. The number two drama wasn't really as bad... only expensive. After a month in the yard to the tune of well in excess of $10,000USD, we began the replacement of our standing rigging. We knew this day would eventually come when we purchased the boat, but it's still hard to stomach watching all that money just fly away. We hired Turbulence Marine to do the job and were actually pleased that the quote for the entire job came in below what we expected.
I'm just going to go ahead and put my irrational fear out there in the world in hopes that Karma will see the futility of messing with me and move on. My fear is that after all these years of flawless performance by our standing rigging... we will spend all of this money replacing it, and the new rigging will fail. There it is. The irony that is sometimes my life has taught me to be skeptical of any sort of smooth sailing.
But tiny glimmers of hope are beginning to surface once again like the sparkle of new Boat-Bling! Who needs diamonds and gold chains when you can run your hands over the silky smooth surface of new wire rigging?
Thes metal boat-bits are as pleasing to me as any flower
For comparison
Also pleasing to me, is watching someone ELSE go up the mast repeatedly to wrangle these wires into their proper places. Knowing that we have someone whose job this is to do it for us is comforting. It helps to ease the pain of so many meals eaten onboard and so many days spent avoiding spending money on the pleasures that Grenada has to offer. She lures with her siren song but we are deaf to her call. We must be. We'll be eating in and remembering past outings for some time to come... taking in the simple - and inexpensive - pleasures where we can as we slowly work to put all of these stresses behind us and get our mojo back.
Patrick and Vanessa playing a song!
Followers of our normally prolific Facebook page may have noticed that we've been quiet and crabby recently, and now you know why. We have had many weeks of stress. Weeks of self enforced incarceration because of both the high winds AND the high cost of boat maintenance. Every year when we put out our yearly cost of cruising post, someone pipes up to say that it doesn't have to cost as much as it does... But again I will say that it DOES if you properly maintain your boat. Sometimes you just have to be an adult and take care of your responsibilities. This requires budgeting and sacrifice.
We got invited to hear a Cruiser's Jam - Good times! It was just what we needed to turn the tides in our favour.
This cost nothing!
Our boat in centre just out from our swimming spot on Calabash Beach
It's Plumeria season!
The anchorage from the hill
Cold Pomegranate Cider for me, craft brewed beer for Bruce
Now as we see the light at the end of this long tunnel, we are trying to get our brains back to Cruiser Mode. We have vowed to get off the boat every day and take in the beauty around us. One Facebook friend asked "Why wouldn't you get off the boat every day?" But when you're living this life instead of just vacationing here... Well, it is NOT just one long vacation. Into every Cruiser's life, a little responsibility and strife must come. But we're looking for a happy medium now, taking walks, going for a swim, having a beer at the local hangout... and looking for our Mojo!
Oh, and that third drama I mentioned above. Well, that has been slowly unfolding throughout this process since just after we splashed the first time. My mom, who has been living in our townhouse, has decided that the restrictions of our HOA are too much for her. She's moving out and we're going to sell.
I bought tickets to the States (more expense), hired a work crew to do some repairs on the townhouse (more expense), found a Realtor (Thanks to my daughter!!!) and am working toward getting the boat and Bruce ready for my long absence. All of this from about 2000 miles away!!!
Also in progress, the mental preparations for disposing of the remainder of decades worth of treasures we've got stored in our townhouse. I knew this day we've been running from would eventually catch us... The day that we would have to dip back into the real world. The day that we would have to deal with costs, and taxes and rules and real life in general... But that doesn't help now that it has arrived.
I'll be in the States for almost a month and if I get everything done that needs doing without losing my mind, it will be a miracle! A huge thanks goes out to my daughter, Melissa. Without her steady influence, this could not get done. What a lucky mom I am to have raised such a daughter! I'm beyond ready to get OFF of this emotional roller coaster and fully commit to living the life of a Cruiser...
As it turned out... it was I who helped HER! She was the steady one while I leaned more to wallowing and maudlin self pity. She kept us moving forward when I got bogged down with the discovery of each one of the thousands of lovingly collected treasures that told the story of our lives. Each piece of art or blanket made by a loved one no longer with us, each anniversary present or photo of us in a wonderful place, each piece of furniture chosen together and laden with joyful ghosts of times past - brought on new and more terrible waves of nostalgia. She kept us going when I wanted to break down and cry.
Driving away from the land of my birth was hard too. The fields, the Bay, the wide open spaces that are my Texas home will go on without me, as I will without them. I have to turn my thoughts to the future. The house will sell and Bruce and I will be truly free. With our girls living in other states, we weren't going back there anyway really. 
The day arrived when my daughter put me on a plane back to my home. The month behind me was a blur, but my boat with my husband and my cat were waiting for me. I couldn't wait to get back to where I belonged and maybe have some R&R to finish processing. 
