Indecision and The Question that Drove it Away: How I Made up my Mind to Sail South

If action is the basis for success, indecision is the birthplace of failure. And dear god, have I been indecisive this last month...To be fair, I have always considered myself a pretty resolute person; I typically know what I want and go for it. I follow my gut - which usually leads me in the right, or at the very least, an interesting, direction - and I've never been one to hem and haw and change my mind, which is why this past month has been...well...driving me batty.

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Ever since our last boat and most of all our worldly possessions were taken by Hurricane Irma last summer, we knew that our next boat would not be left in the path of harm (aka: hurricane alley, which is where we happen to live). The storms of last season took away a whole lot from a whole lot of people, but one good thing they swept away in their wake: complacency. No one wants to be caught with their pants down this year (and probably for the next few following) and neither do we. So our plan: sail ourselves south for the peak hurricane months of August and September and haul our boat in Grenada, where storms are "statistically" less likely to strike (knocks on wood). This way, we can enjoy time back with friends and family with relatively little stress (watching hurricane Irma on her death march to our home was pure agony) and our boat will not be a sitting duck in the water. For months this has been our plan; re-visit our former island-hopping cruising days for a short while. The girls are older, they are all great swimmers, and our boat - a Hallberg Rassy 46 - is a legitimate thoroughbred on the water. She loves to sail. This was our plan since we returned in January and I was all about it.

Until the time to leave grew closer and indecision set up shop in my brain.

My first guest was doubt... I turned over a million scenarios in my head and came up with as many excuses why sailing south wasn't really a good idea: "Is our boat really ready?" "Are the girls really ready?" "Would it cut too much into our time back home with friends and family?" "What if the twins get sick and don't sleep well?" "We really need more fans...." "Our dinghy leaks air..." "We don't have solar power or a water maker, we should have those to cruise..." "What if we get into shit weather and I have to help Scott, what will the girls do?" and (shameful to admit) "What will I do without regular wifi!?"  these questions, along with a myriad of others plagued me day and night and opened the door for indecision. Do we stay or do we go? Ultimately (hindsight being the best magnifier) - it was fear that caused me to make the "chicken out" decision to flying home from here - though I didn't think it at the time. I had made up my mind, we were opting out of the sail.

But for some reason the decision was not sitting right.

If I was honest, it did feel very much like a cop-out, the idea of flying home. Sure I had all the excuses and everything sounded hunky dory, but I knew the truth. Scott and I would have a chat, he'd convince me that all would be fine and it would be fun, he'd beg me to come with the girls, and then I'd say, "Okay! We are in!" Two days later, doubt would creep back in and I'd back out again. This flip-flopping happened no fewer than 15 times people! It was driving me (and Scott) crazy. WHY COULD I NOT MAKE UP MY MIND!? WHAT HAPPENED TO THE GIRL WHO KNEW EXACTLY WHAT SHE WANTED?! WHY ON EARTH WAS I HOLDING BACK ON THIS?!

I still don't exactly know what my indecisiveness was about or where it was coming from. I suspect a nice chat with a therapist could uncover that, but ultimately, after talking on the phone with my sister and best friend no fewer than thirty times combined, and going over ideas and scenarios with Scott, I - at Scott's urging - looked at my options and thought to myself: what will I regret not doing? Would I regret not flying home a little early to see friends and family while Scott sailed our home south, or would I regret not taking this opportunity to show our girls an adventure, do some traveling, and spend some time at sea? Once I posed the question to myself in that way, the answer came clear as a bell: adventure.

I chose adventure.

And until making this final decision (and, yep, it's final now!) I had no idea how badly I've been craving a little adventure. Call it wanderlust, call it fernweh, call it whatever you want - but that insatiable urge for change, travel and life experience, I have it. It went a *tiny* bit dormant while the kids were small and I had barely any time to come up for air, let alone dream and scheme, but that fire that once was inside and drove me toward the unknown is beginning to flicker again. And I am so excited.

The plan right now is to head to St. Croix on Tuesday to drop off a bunch of stuff we had in storage for friends, and from there we're going to make the 35/40 hour hop to either Guadaloupe (my absolute favorite!) or Dominica. We'll spend a few days in that area and then continue island hopping down the chain, stopping where we feel, finally ending in Grenada where we will haul our boat and fly back to Chicago for fun with friends and family.

This decision feels good. It feels right.

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If I've learned anything - particularly in the wake of Irma - it's that life and circumstances can change very, very quickly.  My grandfather - a true hedonist and man who lived a life of travel and adventure - always said: if there's an opportunity, take it. And for most of my life that little snippet of advice has carried me to some pretty amazing people, experiences and places. Sometimes it's scary and vulnerable to take a leap into the unknown, but we all know the little venn diagram about comfort zones and where the magic happens (hint: it's outside of it). So we are going to take this opportunity and we are SO excited. I'll be keeping our Facebook and Instagram pages updated where we can, so follow us over there if you want to keep up with us, though my posts will likely be sporadic.

Time to get back to our cruising roots, for a little while at least...

Living Legends: Ten Questions with John Kretschmer

We actually have a little bit of history with famed sailor and author, John Kretschmer... When we were first getting ready to sail from Chicago back in 2010, a friend of ours told us that a client's brother was a famous sailor, that he'd be speaking at Strictly Sail, and that we should meet him. Scott and I, total greenhorns and eager to soak up any knowledge from anyone who'd 'walked the walk', went to his seminar and met him afterwards. He was easygoing, unassuming, and kind. Totally relaxed despite the fact that he'd just come off an ocean passage and was now on his feet all day doing seminars and entertaining questions from (possibly annoying) newbs like Scott and I. Yep, it was instantly apparent that John Kretschmer was not only a class-act and a super nice guy, but the real deal. Afterwards, we devoured a few of his books, and loosely kept in touch via email over the years.

Fast forward to 2015 at Nanny Cay, Tortola. Scott, never forgetting a face, had seen John at the bar and struck up a conversation. He learned his was there on one of his sail training passages and invited Scott and I aboard his boat, Quetzal, the following day. Despite being a tad on the shy and easily intimidated side, the next morning I approached him and said, "Hey John, not sure if you remember me but..." and with a friendly smile he replied, "Windtraveler! Sure, Brittany! We have a lot of passengers who love your blog, you're inspiring a lot of people... Come on aboard." He's the kind of guy who is devoid of ego and will make your day with a passing compliment like that. We chatted with him and his crew in the cockpit and got the grand tour of his beautiful boat. "What seminar is this you're doing?" I asked him. "Heavy weather training," he replied, as casually as if he were selecting a dish soap. This man is one with the ocean and if he smiles at you just so, he even looks a little like the real-life Popeye.

Here's our interview:

#1. How did you know that sailing was going to be more than just a hobby, but a way of life for you? 

My father died when I was 16 and that had a profound impact on me, and my decision to make sailing my life.  I already leaned toward the existential idea that life was what you made of it, your choice to live an interesting life was yours alone to make, and take responsibility for, but it always backed up to idea of time, time was the x factor, there wasn’t time to mess around because life might be snatched away at any time.  I wrote in Flirting (With Mermaids) that my dad’s death drove me to sea, and in a circuitous way that was true. Also, I loved the freedom ocean sailing seemed to present on one hand, and the raw challenge on the other. I never wanted it to be easy.

#2. You sail predominately long distances - ocean deliveries and training passages - this is obviously very different from the traditional “cruising” (i.e island hopping) that many people dream of - why do you love it?

I guess I touched on this a bit in the first answer but crossing oceans presented the sense of adventure I was looking for.  I had been an athlete, a pretty good pole-vaulter alas, and while I never viewed ocean sailing in a competitive way I really responded to the idea of personal challenge.  I grew to love passage making when I learned that there is no “personal challenge,” at sea, that notion is actually absurd. The sea is dispassionate, storms are not personal, small boat seamanship is a matter of figuring out how to fit into the ocean environment. There’s no room for chest pumping at sea.  

Image courtesy of the John Kretschmer sailing Facebook Page

#3. You’ve sailed with a lot of different people and personalities - is there one glaring character trait that you think does not jive well with the sea?

Hubris, and a lack of respect for the sea, not good traits at all for it is (pathetically to paraphrase my own book,) a serious ocean out there.  But it is also a beautiful environment out there too, and you don’t need to be afraid and drape yourself in the latest safety gear.  The safety scolds are rather sad folks and I am sure you have run up against them for taking, Neptune forbid, your young children to sea. Screw them. Also, a lack of irony is not a good trait, you need to be able to laugh at the vagaries of the sea.  

#4. Sailing on other people's boats can be risky business, you are - in many ways - putting your life in someone else’s hands (by trusting their boat) what’s your “ritual” before you take off on another boat? Have you ever turned a delivery down due to the boat’s condition?

It usually depended on how much I needed the money, referring to deliveries.  I have delivered some sad vessels in my day. I am pretty good about sussing out a boat quickly, I have come to know what is important and what isn’t.  Things I check are the through hulls, not just where they are and if they work but more importantly if they will be prone to back siphoning underway. I check the rig, a quick check is to see if the turnbuckles have ever been adjusted, tells you a lot.  The sails are often in amazingly poor conditions, especially on boats that have not been used in a long time, sitting in the tropical heat deteriorating.  The engine is also essential, and I probably spend more time making sure it’s ready to run and collecting spares than I do on anything else.  

Image courtesy of the John Kretschmer sailing Facebook Page

#5. What are three things you would not go offshore without?

Charts, my sextant, and a basic toolkit.  Sounds crazy, but everything else can fail but I can always find my way. I am big on notion of finding my way. I’ve logged a ridiculous amount of miles, and I love GPS and all the accouterments there of, really I do, but many of those miles were done pre GPS and they were, in a weird way, more satisfying.  I don’t like the idea of being lost, just being hard to find.

#6. You are the author of several fantastic books and you are clearly a gifted writer. When did you discover this talent and would you say your passion for writing is greater than your passion for sailing, or visa versa - and/or do they share a symbiotic relationship in you?

You know that these days I conduct offshore training passages, and funnily enough my old high school English teacher signed aboard a few years ago. He amused the crew, telling them that he thought there was a remote chance I might make the Olympics as pole-vaulter but would never have believed that I’d write a book!  Actually books have been my friends forever, longer than boats.  Peter Freuchen, the great Arctic explorer and voyage wrote the he “discovered the ocean in his imagination.” I did too, in books.  I wanted to be an explorer and when I realized that explorers had a hard time finding work in the late 20^th century, I decided I wanted to be a sailor and write about my adventures, and I made this decision when was 13 or 14.  Thanks for the kind words about my books,  I still feel exposed when I write, if it’s not emotionally honest it’s no good, that’s my motto I guess. 

#7. As someone who’s husband worked term charters for a while (being away at sea for weeks at a time), I imagine that your roving lifestyle can be difficult on your wife. How do you two make it work?

This has been a very difficult thing for me to balance.  My wife Tadji is incredibly understanding, independent and super capable on her own, but still it is hard for us to be away from each other for long stretches. In some ways I have two worlds, home and at sea, and keeping them both going is not easy.   The ability to leave my boat all over the world has been quite liberating.  Indeed, Quetzal is in St. John’s Newfoundland and I am in Ft. Lauderdale now, and I’ll head back in a couple of weeks, pressing on for Nova Scotia, and then later in October for the Caribbean  Also, now that 3 of 4 kids are either on their own or in college, and the last is a senior in high school, we are able to spend more time together.  (Sorry to make you envious!  Not really, these years with your kids aboard are to be  treasured. My girls still tell sea stories.) Tadji and I have a plan to be on the boat together most of the time in the future, with Tadji accompanying me on some training passages, and leaving me to do my thing on others.  But we will definitely be in more of a cruising mode between passages than I’ve ever been before and I am really looking forward to it.

Image courtesy of the John Kretschmer sailing Facebook Page

#8.What is something that people might find surprising about you?

That I am really easy going on the boat, that I am not all a stickler for rules and rote learning, that I am flat out ok when folks make mistakes.  That’s probably not right, people already know that. Hmm what else, that I love the Miami Heat and that I know more about books than boats. 

#9. You’ve had countless adventures at sea - what is your mantra when the shit hits the fan?

To be active, not to assume that the weather will suddenly improve or the problem will somehow fix itself.  I have well-honed instincts, mostly because I have made a hash of things so many times that I’ve finally learned to listen to my hunches. If I feel a hint of being over canvassed, I reef.  If I suspect conditions are going to deteriorate I prepare.  I almost never go into bunker mode, I believe that storms require action, clear thinking, collaboration when possible, and engagement as conditions change.  

#10. What is one thing you haven’t done yet, but wish you could?

Hmm, can I have two? Although I have sailed a lot of miles, I’d like to do a trade wind circumnavigation with my wife and occasional friends/crew.  And, I’d like to write a good novel.

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Thank you, John, for that insightful and thoughtful interview! Can't wait to catch up in person again soon!

Want more John? Check out his website and Facebook Page, and be sure to check out some of his incredible books:

Flirting with Mermaids: The Unpredictable Life of a Sailboat Delivery Skipper - this was the first one Scott and I read, it's a great collection of tales from John's life at sea full of adventure, romance and wry humor. A good laugh and an enjoyable read for anyone cruising, or dreaming of sailing off into the sunset.

At the Mercy of the Sea: The True Story of Three Sailors in a Caribbean Hurricane - this book is insane. It's the true story of three Caribbean-based sailors (one who was a personal friend of John's) who got caught in they eye of Hurricane Lenny in 1999.  John tells this story with incredible accuracy, precision and care, and brings you right there into the storm with them. It's harrowing and tragic, but a fantastic - and important - read for any boater. I loved this book.

Sailing a Serious Ocean: Sailboats, Storms, Stories and Lessons Learned from 30 Years at Sea - this is one we have not read, but it's on my Kindle! "Tales of storm encounters and other examples of extreme seamanship will help you prepare for your journey and give you confidence to handle any situation―even heavy weather. Through his personal stories, John will guide you through the whole process of choosing the right boat, outfitting with the right gear, planning your route, navigating the ocean, and understanding the nuances of life at sea."

Cape Horn to Starboard - "Legendary account of the author's voyage around Cape Horn in a 32-foot sailboat, sailing east-to-west (thus the Horn is to starboard, or on the right). This is a notoriously difficult and dangerous passage, especially in a boat this size." - Amazon

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Enjoy this series? Check out my other interviews with awesome sailing people:

Living Legends: Ten Questions with Cap'n Fatty Goodlander
Living Legends: Ten Questions with John and Amanda Neal
Living Legends: Ten Questions with Former US Sailing President Gary Jobson
Awesome Sailing People: The Delos Crew
Awesome Sailing People: Katie and Jessie on a Boat
Awesome Sailing People: Ten Questions for Distant Shores
Awesome Sailing People: Q & A with Solor Sailor Emily Richmond

Baby On Board: Keeping a Baby At Bay While Passagemaking

"I can't imagine taking my baby on a sea voyage. What if she got sick, bad weather, boat troubles, I think it's very poor thinking on your part.  It's your business...but selfish." Having a baby on a boat is, apparently, a novelty that many of our readers are - err - interested in.  I'd say over 50% of the questions we field are in regards to having a baby on board, and after our recent offshore passage - the questions doubled.  The main question, of course, was:  How the heck did you keep a baby entertained at sea for five days?  And then, of course, there was that ridiculous email above from Mrs. B to which I kindly replied with a big, fat "Thanks so much for the unsolicited advice - how about you raise your "baby" the way you want to, and I'll raise mine the way I want to?"  The nerve of some people, really.  Sheesh. (What the heck would she say to these people?!)

The funny thing is, it wasn't Isla's safety that was my concern (I mean, do I really need to go into the statistics of the safety of a baby on a boat versus, say, a baby in a car?).  Oh no!  The biggest concern that kept me up at night was how the heck I was going to keep her entertained.  I mean, we've been living on the boat with her since she was six months old, and actively cruising for the past four months so we had found a little groove and sort of knew what to expect.  But living on a boat with a baby is one thing...actually cruising on a boat with a baby is another...and doing an offshore passage with a baby is a whole new can of worms.  Isla is an incredibly active and energetic thirteen month old who, when awake, does not sit still.  She climbs, explores, pokes and prods.  She has no fear whatsoever and she is wicked smart.  I often take her to shore at least once a day to play on the beach or take her for a walk to burn some energy and provide some stimulation - but at sea, it would be all boat, all the time.  So how did we do it?

I am happy to report the trip went better than any of us imagined.  She was, for the most part, an angel and while it was definitely a full-time job to keep her happy, we all came through unscathed (minus the couple times she projectile vomited in the cockpit, of course...that was just gross).  Here are some things that worked for us* to keep our baby a happy little camper on the high seas:

1. Safe place to sleep:  Isla sleeps in a Phil & Teds traveller crib, in the vee berth.  We have secured it semi-permanently to the port side and it has been amazing.  It's big enough for her to stretch out in but small enough that when the weather gets rough she's not rolling all over the place.  She cannot climb out and - most important - she is comfortable and safe.  She has slept soundly in that little bed while sailing upwind in twenty knots bashing into eight foot waves.  Having a secure place for a baby to sleep at sea is imperative.
2. Medicate: Our mini shakedown sail got a little rough and Isla got sick not once, but twice during that passage.  This was not the most auspicious beginning for a five day, windward sea voyage.  Of course I carry Pedialyte in the event of dehydration, but I didn't want to get to that point (and do babies actually drink that stuff?!?! It's like straight up corn syrup!).  I hit the interwebz and did some research about how to prevent sea sickness in babies, which turned up nada.  I had thought ahead and ordered some children's dramamine and even though it is not recommended for babies under two - I made the executive decision (as a mom) to give Isla 1/4 of a tablet every four to six hours.  She never got sick again and was happy as a clam in even the roughest of seas.
3. Several safe "areas" to play:  I made lee cloths to contain Isla in both the vee berth and aft cabin.  While the change in scenery wasn't much, it was nice to have a few areas to "hang out" with her.  We'd read books and play with her toys in the vee berth when it wasn't too rough, we'd play with her iPad and listen to music in the aft cabin.  Of course fresh air and vitamin D was a must too, so we'd play up in the cockpit from time to time when weather permitted.  A little variation was nice. 
4. A dedicated "babysitter":  I know this might not be possible for every family cruising, but having a baby on the boat renders one parent pretty much useless as a crew mate.  Sorry, but it's true.  Scott and I were prepared for this, which was why we bought a new boat that can be easily singlehanded.  Doing regular cruising and island hopping is fine with just the two of us, but if you are going to sea with a baby for an extended length of time (three days or more) I would strongly urge you to take on additional crew to help out.  We had two volunteer crew mates and they were AWESOME and super helpful.  Having them aboard meant Scott was able to get some rest and I was 100% available for Isla.
5. Gradual introduction of new toys:  Compared to her landlubber peers, Isla has very few toys.  We don't have the luxury of a basement or a big closet to store all her stuff in so she has a small hammock for books and stuffed animals in her room, and a tote bag under the nav station for her toys.  I tried to introduce "new" toys and books every other day to keep her interested because, to be honest, the attention span of a baby (if you're lucky) is about fifteen to twenty minutes before they want something else.  I kept things on a rotation.  Also - baby's don't need fancy toys!  The simplest things will entertain them: pots, spoons, and old coffee bins are all "toys" in a child's mind.  Isla's favorite discovery?  Getting in and out (over and over and over again) of a small plastic dish washing bucket. 
6. iPad:  This one was a toughie for us.  Scott and I have made a very conscious decision to limit screen time for Isla.  "Screen time" obviously means television but also includes "educational" computer games and - yes - iPad games.  Five days at sea with a baby is a long time.  We do not have a television on board and Isla has hardly had any exposure to the boob tube whatsoever so we figured that a little friendly iPad action here and there for our passage would be acceptable.  I filled our iPad with free "baby apps" from Fisher Price and LeapFrog that included songs, flash cards, and very mildly interactive games.  I am happy to report she preferred getting in and out of her plastic bin to the iPad, but I am still thankful we had it.  It gave me 15-20 minutes of rest with her where she'd actually sit still.  That said, we haven't used it with her since the passage and will probably only limit it to long passages and special situations.
7. Tether and harness:  Isla never wore a lifejacket this entire trip.  Instead, we used her West Marine infant tether and harness whenever she was in the cockpit (we never went beyond the cockpit with her this passage).  We have several life vests that we use with Isla in the dinghy, but when we sail, she is almost exclusively tethered to the cockpit.  It allows for easy movement, it's less cumbersome (not only for her, but for anyone holding her) and it's safe because it means she will stay with the boat.  A lifejacket might keep her afloat, but our first priority is keeping her on board.
8. Sleep schedule:  This is numero uno in my opinion.  I could go on, and on, and on about how important I believe sleep is for little ones.  Before Isla was born I was given the book Healthy Sleep Habits, Happy Child by a very seasoned and wise momma friend who I admire completely.  "This is all you will need, forget about all the other crap" she told me as she pressed the book in my hands.  I owe her everything (love you Bijal!).  I "sleep trained" Isla from three months of age.  She naps twice a day (9am, 1pm) for an hour and half each time, and goes to bed each night between 6pm and 7pm waking up with a beaming grin twelve uninterrupted hours later (for the record, this happened naturally, she has never "cried it out").  This is not magic, it's exactly the schedule the book recommends and promises if you follow the guidelines.  While I was nervous her schedule would go haywire at sea, I'm happy to report she stuck to it without a hitch.  Having Isla on a sleep schedule makes passage making and cruising SO. MUCH. EASIER.  She is well rested and happy, and we get lots of breaks which allow us to have down time, making us better parents.

While some folks certainly think we're insane, we beg to differ.  We think this life is rife with amazing opportunities for little ones.  Isla is absolutely thriving aboard and, for now, we can't imagine raising her any other way.  She is one awesome sailor baby, that is for sure!  If you want to read more about how we cruise with a baby on board, read our post "Bringing up Baby (On a Boat".

The light of my life right here! 

This was where we spend the bulk of our time, cuddled up in the aft cabin.

"Does my hair look okay?"

We still love the game we call "tap tap" where we tap blocks on anything and everything.

Our vee-berth station and a nice shot of Isla's tent/bed 

This game was VERY fun for Isla.  In the bucket, out of the bucket, fill with things, empty things. Repeat.

Meal time underway in the bumbo seat

Bucket o' fun

"Look mama!! Land legs!!"

* Reminder:  This is what worked for us.  It might not be what you would do and it may or may not work for you, and that is okay.  To each his own, right?

On Passage-Making, Luck and What We Did Right

With our first long-ish passage -Bahamas to the BVI's - behind us, I find myself reflecting on how successful it was and how smoothly it went, no small feat for a boat at sea for five days.  There are several reasons for this:  First of all (let's be real here), we were lucky.  I believe strongly that those of us who take to the sea depend on a fair amount on good old-fashioned L-U-C-K from time to time (don't we all?), and thankfully, it was on our side during this particular passage.  It is also my belief, however, that we create our own luck in the form of preparedness (anyone remember the "black box theory"?) - particularly at sea - and that the two, let's call them "dumb" luck and "created" luck, dance precariously in a yin/yang type of ballet.

We did a lot right during this passage; some of it intentional, some of it serendipitous... but here is what we learned and tips I can share based on our experience venturing offshore and covering eight hundred miles over the course of five days, non-stop:

1. Route Planning:  Scott poured over the charts and scoured the internet for information on our trip.  Unfortunately, there was not too much out there as a) most (smart) cruisers avoid passages completely to windward and b) most people who do make this passage start much further north, and much earlier in the season in order to take advantage of trade winds.  Despite the lack of info out there for our particular set of circumstances and coordinates, Scott and I read accounts of the trip and had a pretty good idea of what to expect.  Namely: lots of motoring, bashing headlong into easterly trade winds, and a potential puke-fest of epic proportions.  Fun, right?
2. Prepare fot the worst:  I know, this sounds pessimistic, but hear me out:  if you prepare for the worst, you will either be ready when the worst smacks you square across the face OR (the better option) you will be pleasantly surprised when it shows up at your door step like an innocent, water-logged kitten looking for shelter instead of the roaring lion it's shadow foretold.  We had read lots of accounts of strong easterly trades and mind-numbing upwind slogs complete with bashing into twelve foot ocean swells for days on end, and that is what we prepared our boat and ourselves for.  The fact that our trip wasn't that bad made it all the better, and because our boat was so well stowed and prepped, we enjoyed a nice, drama-free ride complete with evening sing-a-longs in the cockpit.  (Okay, not really).
3. Watch the Weather:  Scott watched weather for about a month before our passage; looking for patterns and trying to identify when the trades would lie down a bit and allow for some nice, easterly motoring.  The fact that a weather window presented itself just as our crew arrived was - of course - dumb luck.  You cannot plan stuff like that.  We also subscribed to a professional weather routing service which we utilized underway (via SSB) to alter our course and optimize our path.  This proved to be very useful.  
4. Know your Limits:  We had two volunteer crew aboard to help Scott make this delivery because initially Isla and I were not going to come (see #2).  We ended up joining the roster after all, and it was fantastic (essential?) to have four extra hands on board.  These days, my number one priority is being a momma to Isla and - truth be told - she is a handful (actually, two handfulls) when she's awake, making me a less than reliable offshore crew member at the moment.  Having a working crew of three guys with me as a mommy/floater/galley slave made this passage much better - for all of us.  The guys maintained a two hour on/four hour off watch schedule which was very easy and ensured everyone was well-rested.
5. Pre-make Meals:  Holy moly was this a lifesaver!  We ate incredibly well the entire trip and (wait for it.....) I am going to give myself a little pat on the back for this fact.  Actually, I am going to give myself a full-blown "whoop whoop" for my culinary efforts.  Me pulling off five nights of palatable boat meals is, in my little world, akin to Armstrong's first steps on the moon:  A small step for man,  a huge step for Brittany...or something like that.  Thanks to The Boat Galley Cookbook, a very large refrigerator and a couple days of slaving away in the galley pre-departure, I made six casserole-type meals in "bake-and-serve" plastic containers to keep and make underway.  Cooking on a boat (the chopping, the cleaning, the prep...) is challenge enough, cooking on a boat at an aggressive heel while bashing into 4-8 foot rollers is significantly harder.  All I had to do was pre-heat the oven, slide in the dish, wait 30-45 minutes and voila! warm, tasty meals for a hungry crew.  I also made sure there were plenty of ready-to-eat snacks - both healthy and junky - available as well.  We did not go hungry on this passage, that is for sure.  Another added bonus of pre-making meals?  Less garbage underway.  We only had one small bag of garbage at the end of five days.
6. Shake Down: This is where dumb luck came into play for us in a big way.  We had not planned a shake down sail but the weather ended giving us an opportunity to sail from Georgetown to Long Island and it was probably one of the best (unintentional) things we did.  It was a pretty aggressive sail: twelve hours in 15-20 knots of wind with seas in the 4-8 foot range.  Not only did this give us time to get into sync as a crew, it gave the new crew members a chance to learn a bit about our boat, how she handles and - most importantly - it gave our gear a chance to break before we headed offshore.  We lost our jib halyard at the end of the sail and fixing it in port was much, much easier than out at sea.  The two subsequent days we spent in Long Island were also great for crew morale and boat prep.  This turned out to be a key piece of luck that made our subsequent passage much smoother.
7. Quick Caffeine Fixes:  The Aeropress coffee maker is still my first love, but it is not the most practical percolator while sailing head-first into six to eight foot ocean swells.  Single serve instant coffee packets are the bomb, and they are your friend.  I bought a veritable boatload of Starbucks Via instant brews on my last trip home and - say what you will about the 'Bucks - it was good.  Really good.  And what's best?  It was easy.  I boiled a thermos full of water every morning and whenever anyone (i.e me) wanted a cuppa joe, all they had to do was grab a mug, tear open the pack and pour in the water.  Coffee snobbery has no place on the high seas people, sometimes you just gotta get your jolt and go.
8. Prep the Boat:  We went overboard prepping our boat.  The outboard motor?  Stored down below under the v-berth.  The grill?  Stowed in our shower.  The dinghy?  Lashed to our bow despite the fact that our awesome davits are rated for something insane like ten thousand pounds.  We checked oils, changed filters, topped of water and fuel and did all the usual visual checks.  Furthermore, the interior of the boat was given the "tip over" test - meaning I went through the cabin and imagined our boat on her ear, and anything that wouldn't stay put in an event like that, was moved.  I am happy to report our cabin remained clutter and catastrophe-free.  I also made lee-cloths for the crew which proved to be essential (and comfortable).
9. Pre-Medicate:  The only time I have ever been seasick - and I mean actually puking seasick - came after a night of five (count them, five) dirty martinis.  Friends don't let friends sail hungover, folks.  That still goes down as one of the worst days on the water ever.  No bueno.  But aside from that little blip on the radar - I don't really get seasick.  Despite this, I - along with the rest of our adult crew - slapped on a scopolamine patch the second we started our motor.  No need to be a hero.  Seasickness is not fun, especially if you'll be at it for days on end and we were prepping for a bouncy ride to windward.  The only bout of seasickness came from the one crew member who's patch fell off and was not replenished, otherwise - we were all hunky-dory.  Not too shabby!
10. Timing is Everything:  I mentioned that luck made it so our weather window arrived just as our crew stepped off their flights and onto Bahamian tarmac.  Dumb luck.  BUT - when we went looking for volunteer crew, one of the stipulations was that they had to be available from the 9th to the 23rd of May.  That obviously disqualified a lot of folks.  We were adamant on this point so that we could have a large window to allow for a healthy amount of wiggle room to wait for weather, make repairs, etc.  It worked out for the best, and - as luck would have it - we were even able to leave a day ahead of schedule because our crew was able to fly in early so that we could take advantage of the weather window as it presented itself.
11. Get Mental: No, I don't mean go crazy (thought we almost did for a hot minute there).  I mean mentally prepare yourself for the journey at hand.  Do you estimate it will take eight days?  Prepare for at least ten.  Visualize yourself on the boat, day in and day out, for that length of time.  Imagine the calms and the storms, how you will handle yourself, how it will feel.  Envision how you will pass the time and keep your mind occupied.  Picture the night watches, the day watches and visualize the smells, the sounds, the potential boredom, the motion, the monotony, the excitement...  Great athletes are famous for envisioning entire games before they are played and while we might not be scoring any points out here - there is something to be said for getting your head in the game. 

So that's our (very long winded) $.02.  What are your tips and tricks for long passages?  Please share in the comments so we all can learn!

Master Glockenspiel-er in the making

Our crew, off watch. 

The sea treated us to some spectacular panoramas!

A monster squall on the horizon 

Scott, downloading GRIB files via SSB 

Red sky at night?

Happy crew on the home stretch

Off We Go!

And....we're off!  Our predicted route is more direct that we originally planned.  We'll see how the weather pans out... but for now, instead of heading dead east out to the open ocean and then south we are planning on heading/motoring southeast along the Turks and Caicos at which point we'll take advantage of the predicted light and variable winds Monday and Tuesday to make our easting.  Typically, the trade winds are consistently out of the southeast this time of year but due to a cold front that is expected to head our way on Tuesday, the winds are predicted to clock around to the northeast, which is ideal for us.  We will head south if/when those northeast winds fill in and hopefully enjoy a nice sail right down to the islands.  Of course this plan has been made based on the imperfect art of weather prediction so we'll see what the wind actually does and I'm sure we'll make several game-day decisions on the water.  We're hoping to make landfall at Jost Van Dyke in five to six days, but again, we'll see how it all plays out with the weather.  We will be getting daily detailed weather routing via Chris Parker as well as downloading GRIB files so we should be well informed.

For those of you who would like follow our track over the coming week, you can see our progress via our SPOT tracker on our SPOTWALLA site.

Also, for those of you who have emailed, I apologize for the delay.  It has been very difficult for me to keep up with correspondence these days and this passage will certainly put me more behind than ever.  I really love hearing from you all and appreciate your emails more than you know and I promise I will get back to you when I can.  It might take a while though, so thank you for your patience!

Anywho...the preventer has been set, the dinghy has been stowed on deck, the outboard and grill have been tucked away under bunks, meals have been made, safety systems have been checked, gear has been prepped, waypoints have been added, iPads have been filled with apps and games, seasick meds have been applied, oil has been checked, water and fuel have been topped off, gear has been stowed, safety briefing has been done, float plan has been sent and we are as ready as ever.  We're excited, nervous, giddy, and grateful.  We have an excellent vessel, a fantastic crew, and a heck of a ride ahead.

Catch you on the flip side!

Splicey McSplicerton

The name of the game yesterday was splicing, which is the art of connecting a rope (or two ropes) by interweaving the strands.  It's nothing short of magic, really, and there is a reason people pay others to do this.  I mentioned how we lost our jib halyard on the trip here due to the worst splice job in history (see picture above) and fixing it was our first priority.

Of course there are no riggers on this island, so simply calling someone to help us and/or do it for us was not an option.  We had never spliced sta set x line and without any other choice but to learn, we did what every good cruiser does these days and hit the internet for instructions.  A quick Google search led us to explicit splicing directions which the boys followed and produced a pretty good splice.  I say "pretty good" because I would be lying if I said it was perfect.  The halyard is probably ten years old, super stretched out and splicing old line is famously difficult.  Nevertheless, after almost four hours of team work that included agressive pulling, "milking", coercing, pounding and generally man-handling the line, they got it done.  We celebrated on shore with drinks and the best fish tacos I have ever had.  Ever.  We will be replacing the entire halyard once we get to St. Maarten.  It's on the list.

Today the mood on the boat is great.  Our weather forecast is favorable and, while we will probably be motoring most of this trip, it will be into light and variable winds and it's looking like we might even have a nice sail south.  Of course there are anxieties and nerves intermixed with the anticipation, but the overall vibe is excited and ready.  We've got some final preparations to do, namely putting the dinghy on the bow and stowing our outboard motor and barbecue down below, and once those things are complete - we will be good to go.  We're currently blasting this wicked tune by Gipsy Kings, it captures the energy of the boat right now quite nicely I think.

We will be leaving bright and early tomorrow and will most likely not have internet again for another five or six days.  I will be posting when I can via SSB, but if you'd like to track us real-time, follow us on SPOTWALLA.

Scott whipped the end of the splice for added strength

Changing Tacks: Plans are Written in Sand

It is often said that a cruiser's plans are written in sand.  It's oh-so cliche but very true; our agendas often change like - and with - the wind.  One day we'll be planning on sailing to an island to the east and, due to an unexpected wind shift, we decide to head to an island further south.  We might expect to stay in a place for only a few days, and end up staying months.  When you ask the question, "Where to next?" it is not at all unusual to hear, "We don't really know, but we're thinking that we might..."  It's a luxury of this lifestyle to have the freedom to change our minds and roam as we please.  Plans are written in sand.  At low tide.

You see where this is going right?

Yep.  We're changing tacks.  A few days ago I wrote how Scott and a crew of two volunteers would be sailing our boat offshore from here (Georgetown, Bahamas) to the British Virgin Islands, where Isla and I would met them.  I must admit, I was never comfortable with this arrangement and every time I talked about it, I felt a little uneasy.  A little cowardly even.  Scott and I have sailed almost 6,000 nautical miles together.  We've been crossing cruising milestones off our list one by one, and we have done it all together.  We're a team.  This dream was as much (if not more) mine than his and for me to sit out our longest passage to date?  Well, I didn't really like the thought of it.  If I am to be honest, I had even been harboring a little healthy jealousy.  How could I let him embrace the challenges, the sites, the sounds, the monotony, the lessons, the zen, the revelation and the chaos of a long ocean passage without me?  I mean, an eight to ten day non-stop voyage is a pretty big deal.  It's not crossing an ocean or anything, but it's nothing to shake a stick at either.  Scott and I have been equals all this time, and now he'd be getting a leg up on me.  Not that we're competitive with each other (because we're not), but I couldn't let that happen.  Call me selfish, but I wanted to experience it, too.

So after that post, I started thinking.  I thought and thought and thought some more.  I consulted with fellow cruisers.  I posed the question to a Women who Sail group that I am part of to get their advice as cruising women and mamas.  The wheels were turning.  When I had made up my mind, I sent the following text to Scott: "Should Isla and I join you guys on the passage? I am tempted to go and with the crew's help, I think we'd be fine..."  Scott's immediate response:  "That's not a bad idea!!  I'd love it!".  And so began a series of texts going over the pros and cons of us coming along, with Scott spontaneously texting excited pleas for us to join in between.  The decision wasn't that hard, really.  We're going.  I mean, if we plan on being a sailing family we've gotta do this eventually, right?  No time like the present.

Of course I had to email our two wonderful volunteer crew mates and let them know what we were thinking.  After all, when they signed on to crew it was not with a baby aboard.  Whether or not you sail I know that most people can understand that having a baby on the boat is a major game-changer.  I needed their blessing.  So I wrote them asking what they thought, and - thankfully - both were not only totally supportive of the idea, but (dare I say it?) even a little excited at the prospect of having us along.

For the most part I will be on Isla duty.  For those of you who are parents, you can appreciate how much work it takes to keep an incredibly active one year old entertained and at bay.  I will help out in other areas where I can, but my main focus will be Isla and keeping her happy and safe.  It will be a challenge.  Imagine, if you will, being in an RV for eight days non-stop with a toddling infant who loves to climb and walk.  Then take that RV, and rock it side to side, sometimes violently, for hours and hours at a time.  Throw in some storms, a little car-sickness, and non-stop banging and clanking.  Nope, there are no pit stops.  It will be interesting and we will learn a TON about our boat, sailing with an infant, each other and offshore passage making.  As usual I will write and tell you all about it and we will be posting updates as frequently as we can (sans photos) via SSB.

We are so stoked, giddy even.  There are, of course, the nervous worries that creep into my head late at night when I lay awake in bed: will Isla get seasick? How will I keep her entertained?  Will we encounter horrible weather?  Will she keep the crew awake?  Will the crew get along?  Will all our systems run as planned?  What about rogue waves, submerged shipping containers, sleeping whales, etc... Nerves, for me, are inevitable.  And I believe they are healthy at sea.  They indicate a level of respect that is mandatory for the ocean and nature.  The understanding that - no matter how prepared we might be - we are not in control.

Scott comes home tomorrow (excited scream followed by happy dance).  Now begins the time to mentally prepare ourselves and our boat for this passage.  We'll keep you posted!

Where to Next? Out and Down I-65

"Where to next?" is a common question I field these days.  We've gotten pretty cozy here in the Bahamas but the fact of the matter is we need to head south.  It's getting late in the season (hurricane season technically begins June 1st) and we need to make some serious tracks if we want to be back in Grenada by July... so the short answer to that question is: we're going "out and down".

In order to cover as much water as quickly as possible, we hatched a plan to move our boat from Georgetown, Bahamas directly to Tortola, British Virgin Islands in one fell swoop - offshore.  We've sailed the famed "thorny path" to windward two years ago but this time around, we simply do not have the luxury of time to casually island hop all the way to the leewards.  So... we're going to skip a bunch of islands in the middle (see photo) to make up for lost time.

What this means is an approximately eight day, off-shore, non-stop passage.  Not the longest voyage for a cruising boat by any means, but the longest for us by far.  This trip will also be unique because we are starting further south and much later in the season than most boats, so there isn't a whole lot of information out there about the route we're taking (most travel this passage starting from somewhere on the East Coast and typically do it between December and January).  Neither of these factors are huge deals - they just mean we'll have a different set of winds and challenges than our predecessors.

In a perfect world, this passage would consist of two very long tacks: one out to the North East (to avoid sailing directly into the prevailing easterlies), and a turn South down "I 65" (65ºW is historically where the southerly trade winds kick in).  Of course, this is not a perfect world so it most likely won't work like that, but here's hoping.  There's one thing we know for sure: the entire trip will be a beat to windward, against the trade winds and into the prevailing current.  For most cruisers, this is pretty much the most unpleasant point of sail that exists, into wind and waves.  Then again, we could get lucky, have bengin conditions and enjoy a nice, uneventful motor-sail the whole way.  We don't know.  We're prepping for the worst and hoping for the best.  Lucky for us we have a boat that carries 200 gallons of diesel, because we're probably going to need it.

After much discussion with delivery captains and professional sailors who have sailed this passage countless times before, it has been decided that Isla and I will sit this one out.  Eight days at sea in good conditions is a lot for most people...eight days at sea in what could be a very rough and uncomfortable conditions is, in our opinion, too much for a toddling baby.  We want her to love sailing, after all.  So - while it pains me to say it - her and I will skip this voyage and reconnect with our boat in Tortola.  (Side note: If anyone out there has a place for Isla and I to stay on Tortola, let us know!)

So where does this leave Scott? Well, there was no way I was going sleep at all with him single-handing 800 nautical miles to windward (though I'm certain he could've), so I put out a "call to arms" on our Facebook Page looking for willing and able unpaid delivery crew.  The response was awesome.  We got a flood of sailing resumes and offers to join from some great folks.  After careful consideration, we selected two (very cool) fellow sailors who will join Scott in sailing Asante to the BVI's.  They fly in to Georgetown May 9th.  The hope is to make landfall in Tortola between the 20-23rd, where Isla and I will greet them at the dock with a blender full of painkillers. Mmmmmm...painkillers....

From there, we'll resume as "normal" and island hop down the Windwards and Leewards until we reach Grenada.  We have a lot of prep work to do before this passage, so we're going to be very busy the next couple of weeks.  As usual, we'll keep you posted!

PS.  Happy Birthday to me! How amazing is my hubby for surprising me yesterday?  So awesome.  Best birthday present EVER!

Logistical Nightmare

"You do realize we are moving in a couple weeks, right?" Scott said to me yesterday as we were sitting in the kitchen, sipping on coffee and coconut water and working on really important things, like the re-design of this blog.  "I mean, we have nothing ready and a lot to do" he went on to say.  If I were an ostrich, I would have stuck my head in the sand right then and there.   You see, I have been riding in first class on the procrastination train for quite some time now and it's been pretty dang comfy.

I guess you could say we're a little overwhelmed.  We've been here before.  This time, though, the scenario is different.  We have a new boat, we have thirty-four boxes of our stuff being shipped from Trinidad to Ft. Lauderdale that we have to ensure gets to the boat somehow, we have an old boat we're in the process of selling, we have projects to coordinate on the new boat, and gear to order and install.  We have to change over our bank accounts because Chase is charging us up the wahzoo for foreign use, and Bank of America is fee-friendlier.  We have to pack up our life here in boxes and bags and figure out a cost-effective way to get it all down south.  Then, when we get to Ft. Lauderdale we have to find a cheap hotel to live in for a week or so while we install thru hulls for our new watermaker because the yard we are at does not allow live-aboards.  Once we've done that, we have to find a slip or marina* where we're going to live on the boat once we put her in the water for a yet-to-be-determined length of time while we finish up projects and installations to make Asante blue-water ready.  Oh, and we need to unpack all those damn boxes all while maintaining Isla's coveted nap schedule 'cause a baby's gotta sleep!

Did I mention we're up against a clock?  Scott has to report to Grenada for an eight week work rotation on s/v Diamant at the end of November.

Which leads us to our next round of logistics....

The way we see it we have two options.  One is that Scott assemble's a crew of buddies to sail Asante down to Grenada in "delivery mode" (i.e. non-stop, a 3 week trip) so that Isla and I can live aboard and see Scott once or twice a week.  This, however, means we don't have much time to get Asante ready.  The "Plan B" if we don't have enough time for "Plan A" is for me and Isla to be nomads.  We'll stay on the boat in Florida a couple weeks, rent a place in Grenada for a couple weeks, spend Christmas in Florida with my family for a couple weeks and come home for a couple weeks.  I prefer plan A.

Enter logistics round three...

Then there is the question of what happens after he completes his next work rotation which ends mid January if "Plan A" doesn't transpire.  Assuming we keep the boat in Florida, do we sail straight for the Caribbean and continue where we left off?  Or do we head over to the Bahamas and cruise those easy and familiar grounds for a while before making a bee-line for the windwards and leewards?  We just don't know.  Too many variables and unknowns at this point.  The whole thing reminds me of one of those choose your adventure type books.  "If you do x, go to page 18...if you do y, turn to page 24..."

Sigh.

See what we're dealing with over here?

None of this stuff is impossible, but it is a lot when all heaped together.  We'll figure it out.  We always do.  But at the moment, we're in the midst of a logistical nightmare and all I want to do is ignore it and see if it will magically work itself out.  Which I know it won't.  The Motivation Train, however, is right around the corner and there's a seat on board with my name on it!

Love,
Brittany, Scott & Isla

* Anyone down there in the Ft. Lauderdale area have/know of a slip we could use?  Know of any monthly-rate slips we could use?  This would be a huge help to us!  Email us at: windtraveler09 (at) gmail.com.