Back on Island Time: A Recap and Update on our Return to Post-Irma Tortola

The only time I actually got teary about our return to Tortola was during take off on the puddle jumper in San Juan, Puerto Rico. It had been an emotional few months. We were back in the US on holiday, when - days before we were scheduled to fly back - a massive hurricane named Irma demolished our island, home and livelihood. As a result, we were 'displaced' for over four months. We made the most of it, as any of you who follow our Facebook Page know; we met up with friends, we made new ones, we fundraised almost $170K for our island, and spent the holidays with family. We went to movies, dinners and we even went skiing....yes, our time in the US was nothing short of wonderful, but it was still not "home". So on that flight - that tiny little nine seater that I love and loathe so much - I felt four months worth of heartache, anticipation and excitement bubble up in me and, well, I got a little choked up.

But that's where the emotions subsided really, at least the ones that brought tears to my eyes...which actually surprised me. I had mentally prepared myself for this return, both out of self preservation and on Scott's urging (he'd been back and forth several times since the hurricanes). I also prepped the girls. There was no question that the place we left for our annual summer holiday in July was not the place we'd be returning to in January. "Tortola is not going to look like it did when we left it" I kept telling them. "We know mommy!" they would sigh (we had this conversation a lot) "It's all broken up, we *know*..." they'd say like it was no big thing, like I was asking what color the sky was. As for myself, I prepped like I do for any big moment in life: moving abroad, long sailing passages, cruising with a baby, twins, flying with kids and just about every other occasion that warranted planning: expect the worst, hope for the best. If there is anything I can pat myself on the back for it is an ability to know what I am getting into due to very calculated and ninja-like method of preparation. I was primed for some sadness and shock, and I was definitely ready for tears.

So as the azure blue of the Caribbean sea made way to our beautiful island of Tortola, I was struck by one observation: from a distance, she looks the same. (And I, for the life of me, could not get that damn Bette Midler song "From a Distance" out of my head...) But when I came to that realization, that beautiful and simple realization, the only emotion that was left was pure, unadulterated happiness. I knew then that we were going to be okay, and whatever tears I thought I might shed upon arrival were replaced with a shit-eating grin.

***

Our plane touched down on Tortola soil and I was hit by the familiar sweet, sticky heat that I missed so much. The girls were giddy and punch drunk from almost twelve hours of travel, and as we clamored out of the tiny plane they giggled and jumped and we took in our surroundings. "Look mommy, a broken palm tree!" "Look at that broken car mommy!" "There's no windows over there mommy, hurricane Irma did that!" they observed... Sure, things were a bit worse for wear, there was no doubt about that. But it wasn't that bad. It was nothing that we hadn't seen in pictures and nothing that some time and hard work couldn't fix. The blue sky, the sun shining, and that lovely winter trade wind breeze was still there. It was all I needed to know we were back where we belonged, and it felt so. very. good.

Driving back to our home marina of Nanny Cay, we saw closer up what the aerial view from the plane did not expose; broken buildings, abandoned cars, entire homes demolished with only a single toilet left standing to let you know that, yes, just four months ago someone actually lived here. Sure, it was sad. And to know that so many people are still unemployed and struggling on a daily basis, that is very hard. But nothing about the state of the island was utterly shocking to me. Nothing really took my breath away. Call it a point for social media; but I knew more or less what to expect. Sure, seeing it in person is a little bit different, but after scrolling through hundreds of photos and having spoken to many on-island friends, I felt well prepared. As our taxi man, Larry, navigated potholes new and old, the girls pointed out all the broken things around us (like it was a game) I challenged them not to find the broken things, but the beauty around us instead... And, as kids do, they changed their tune completely; "Look at those beautiful pink flowers!" "And those baby cows! Look, beautiful cows mommy!" and "Look at the water mommy, the water is beautiful..." and it is, the water and the views are still breath-taking...

***

We arrived to our temporary residence, the catamaran that my mom had bought right before the storm to use as her base for visits. Miraculously, it survived - almost unscathed - only a couple slips down from where our boat sank. The girls ran into like it was no big thing. They claimed rooms, started un packing their things and playing. Like we'd lived here forever. I immediately went into organizing mode and started assessing storage and where things would go, keeping in mind that this is a temporary dwelling and we'd be moving again in a couple of months, and that's when I saw her out of our front window: Legato. Our old boat who had been found on the bottom of our marina a month after Irma and who'd been raised and laid haphazardly on her side along the break wall in the place that is now referred to as "the graveyard". She is a sorry sight and almost unrecognizable; her name nearly completely rubbed off, her once-sparkling navy hull now a dullish gray-blue due to the murk from a month on the seabed, and her rigging in tangles on her deck and all around her. While it is sad to get an eye full of her nearly every day, she is a reminder that we have not given up and we are moving on. Life after Irma gave us a lot of perspective, namely: a boat is replaceable. People are not. We are blessed and lucky and can and will rebuild. We unpacked a few things and hit up the beach bar where we were greeted with happiness and hugs, the girls went running off on an adventure on their own, they didn't miss a beat... We even left a pair of flip flops buried in the sand like old times. It was almost as if we hadn't left.

***

"How *are* you?" people will ask us in earnest with a gentle shoulder touch and heavy look in their eyes. I feel almost guilty shrugging and saying, "We are fine, we are really just *so* happy to be back." I also feel guilty for people thinking that we have any reason not to be fine. Sure, we lost a hell of a lot in Irma and she really knocked us off our feet - but she did that to every. single. other. person who lived here as well - and we are far luckier than most. We didn't have to live through the horror of the storm, were 'displaced' in a familiar place with familiar people, we had solid insurance (that has paid out!), a roof, power, and take-out and Uber and organic food... we could flush our toilets, come and go as we pleased and we could cook on a stove. We were fine. Coming back we have returned to a very comfortable boat with air conditioning, a cooking stove and electricity. We live in Nanny Cay, arguably the most recovered and comfortable place to live at the moment, with a vibrant community, a fully stocked grocery store, coffee shop and beach bar with nightly barbecue specials (THERE IS TACO TUESDAY NOW, PEOPLE!)....we cannot complain. "Honestly, we are just so happy to be back" is what I say to everyone, and I mean it with all of my heart. Maybe that makes me odd, but the destruction doesn't really bother me that much. And the girls? They don't give a hoot about it. Kids are truly amazing in that way, their resilience is inspiring.

***

We have been back just over two weeks and the thing is this: while everything looks VERY different, (the destruction from this storm is everywhere, overwhelming and almost too much to comprehend)  the BVI still FEELS the same. In fact, in some ways, I even like it better than before. It's a little grittier, a little more raw, a little less crowded and it feels more rustic. As someone who used to live in a little cowboy town in East Africa, I like rustic. We didn't move here for the architecture, the restaurants, or the cuisine...we weren't here for the glitzy night-life, spas, fantastic road quality or the bustling city center. We were here because we love living on the water and beacause we love this community. Because we love the melting pot of cultures Tortola provides and the fact that our girls greet at least ten different nationalities and dialects on a daily basis...we were here because most of our waking hours are spent outside in the sun, running around barefoot in the sand or climbing trees or swimming in pools.... we were here because the pace of life is a little slower and planning an outing with friends takes minutes, not weeks....we were here because this little group of islands - the BVI - are so. damn. beautiful and unlike any other place on earth.... we were here because we can hop in our boat and have lunch on a new island in less than an hour....we were here because people are more laid back, rules are not so rigid, and we can be a bit more "heathen" and a little less "uptight"....we were here because the characters we meet on a daily basis range from the crazy to the quirky to the profound and we learn from all of them... we were here because I truly believe this is one of the greatest places to raise little children in the world...the list goes on. My point is this: all of that is *still* here.

So - don't get me wrong - Tortola is still struggling and the road to recovery is a long one, I do not want to sugarcoat that. I have an overwhelming amount of respect for those people who were here for the storm, and those people who have remained to rebuild in the aftermath. I honestly cannot imagine what they all endured....Help is still needed here and it will be an uphill battle for quite a while, years in fact. But for us, at least, it's okay. In fact, it's better than okay.

It is so, so good to be home.

To see more pictures of our daily goings-ons, please follow us on Facebook (@sailwindtraveler) or Instagram (@windtraveler), where I am posting daily.  More blog posts and updates to come! Thank you for your notes of concern and patience. My email has been more or less neglected since having the twins (cringe) but I appreciate all your kind notes. Thank you for being an amazing community for us.

Hurry Up and Wait: The Agony of Watching a Hurricane Barrel Down on Your Island

"What's the most stressful part of living on an island/running an island business/living on a boat?" We get this question a lot. And there are a host of answers to each but one answer crosses all divides is: being right smack dab in the middle of hurricane alley between the months of June and November every year. Our stress is compounded by the fact that both >>>our business<<< and our home are water based, and as such Scott and I currently own four boats in Tortola. There are more than a few people who would look at us and think to themselves (and possibly out loud) what a preposterous position to put ourselves in. And at this particular moment, we might agree.

***

There is currently a major hurricane barreling down on our little island. Her name is Irma and she is apparently a beast, slated to be a Cat 3 or 4 when she hits our area (for perspective, Katrina was a Cat 5). After a few days of nail-biting monitoring it seems, more than ever, that she will - at best - pass very close to our island, and - at worst - pass directly over us. My days have been a blur of checking weather sites for updates and new storm models with the hopes of positive news, and each day it becomes more and more clear that this storm poses a real threat to our island and island neighbors. People are flying out, stores are selling out of non-perishables and the departments of disaster management are urging people to PREPARE NOW. It's a big deal. And this waiting, this constant refreshing of the news feed to see if a new model shows promise of a turn away from us...it is agonizing. But like watching a train wreck, it is so hard turn away. "Stop watching!" they tell me but it's hard when we have so much at stake; our livelihood, our friends and our home are all there. And so I keep scanning my feed, hoping for positive news while channeling my inner meteorologist and every morning brings news that makes the sickening feeling in my belly deepen: this hurricane is not turning, her path is becoming more defined and our island is very likely in it.

Another agonizing element to this story is the fact that we are not there. Of course this is a blessing, as our most precious cargo is safe from Irma's wrath. However, if we were there, we could at least be doing something proactive to prepare and know we did our best to do what we could...instead we watch with a feeling of helplessness. We monitor the weather sites, we communicate and commiserate with other locals and we hope. Thankfully, we have some amazing friends, neighbors and employees working for us on the home front. Peter from >>>Where the Coconuts Grow<<< has been a lifesaver and is currently prepping our home, >>>s/v Legato<<<, and two of our >>>Aristocat Charters<<< catamarans as well as his own boat (read his wife and my good friend Jody's Hurricane Plan). With the help of our amazing employees Jorn and Brian, I am confident they are doing right by us. But they also have to prepare themselves, their homes and boats as well, and I feel very guilty adding to an already stressful workload for all of them. I cannot adequately express my gratitude for their efforts on our behalf...

Another element of this excruciating waiting game is the simple fact that hurricanes make a rather slow progression forward - about 15 mph to be exact - and that means we watch them for days and days and days before we know with good probability exactly where they will go... The silver lining to this is of course the ability to see them coming (most of the time) and give people ample time to prepare, the hard part is watching a hurricane march ominously toward your island at the pace of a healthy jogging human which, for the record, feels painfully slow. And then there is the fact that we have so much to lose there. The potential loss makes me sick to consider but it's hard not to; our home, our business - all are literal sitting ducks in the water. Yes, we are insured. Yes, these things can be replaced. But the thought of utter devastation - and losing most everything we own - breaks my heart, and even though it feels selfish to be so worried when we are our of harms way and other's will have it way worse than us, tears well up in my eyes at the thought of what could happen and what it means for us.

So we wait.

***

It is Sunday and it is looking like Irma will pass by or over our rock sometime Tuesday or Wednesday night. The next 48 hours will be crucial and determine with more precision where she will go but hurricanes - like all of mother nature's incredible forces - are wild and unpredictable. We will not have real answers until after she has left us in her wake. Hopefully, with as little damage as possible.

In the words of our Isla, who just a few hours ago looked into my worried eyes and said, "Don't worry mommy. If our stuff tips over it's okay, it's just stuff. The most important things are people." And she is right. Our wise, wonderful child.

Our thoughts are with all our island friends, neighbors, fellow boaters and everyone in Irma's path.

"The most important things are people." Stay safe, everyone. And a heartfelt "thank you" to our amazing >>>Windtraveler Community<<< for all the thoughts, vibes, and prayers. We appreciate your support more than you know.

Beach, Please: On Playing Goldilocks, Island Style

It never ceases to amaze me how far away we can feel from it all on this island. Despite being a pretty primo travel destination with hundreds of thousands of people flocking here every year, the island remains deceivingly underdeveloped. We are big enough to get a decent haircut or a meal, but not too big that our streets are lined with big box stores or restaurant chains. This delicate balance of maintaining island "authenticity" and halting over-development is something that is pretty unique to the British Virgin Islands and is largely >>> why we chose this island <<< to settle on. Case in point: we can venture to to any number of absolutely pristine beaches - I'm talking jaw-droppingly beautiful shorelines that are the stuff magazine ads are made of - and more often than not we will find ourselves alone or with no more than a few others on a massive stretch of sand. No need to stake out a spot, pay for an umbrella and put down your blanket. The threat of anyone stealing your valuables while you swim is slim to none. And, no, you will not hear the Macarena blasting over a large speaker here... It's just you, me, and the sea, baby...

Asante is FOR SALE: Blue Water Brewer 44 READY TO GO in Tortola, BVI!

As most of you know, we bought a new boat. It is awesome and it has been a very welcome change for our family. But...we still have our old boat. It's been a stressful (and fun) few months with work and the general chaos of life with three small children, but we have finally gotten around to giving our old boat some TLC with a deep interior cleaning and hull polish, and thus have finally created our listing. Please see the downloadable/printable FULL SPEC SHEET PDF of our amazing Brewer 44, and *PLEASE* share! We don't want to own two cruising boats much longer!

She is ready to go in beautiful Tortola, BVI at the Nanny Cay Marina!

In a nutshell:

ASANTE is a well-appointed and proven blue-water capable Brewer 44 Center Cockpit currently Tortola in the British Virgin Islands - the perfect starting ground for live-aboard cruising! She has been listed among the 10 Best Center Cockpit Cruising Boats by Jordan Yachts and boast many, many features ideal for live-aboard cruising such as:  two cabins, two heads, a cutter rig, center cockpit, swim scoop, lots of deck space, and the ability to control all sails from the cockpit...She has a gorgeous interior with a nice, spacious layout, a u-shaped galley, an aft suite with a king size bed, an awesome aft deck shower and TONS of storage. In other words, the bones of a great family cruising boat. To learn more about why we chose her, read this post.

She has a navy blue hull, Raymarine electronics, full center cockpit enclosure, bow thruster, in-mast main furler, air conditioning and low hours on the main engine. In 2012 she benefitted from a soft refit and was converted to a cutter rig boat, which makes sailing her a dream, particularly in high winds. Her cockpit is huge and offers a great place to socialize, nap and sail underway. ASANTE has many upgrades including new SSB with Pactor 3 modem (2012), Rogue wave wifi booster (2012), custom 3” & 4” stainless dinghy davits (2012), 280 feet of galvanized chain (2012), and a high output 30 GPH Cruise RO watermaker (2013). She was upgraded with full-time live-aboard cruising in mind and therefore has all the comforts of home, with the full functionality of a well appointed cruising vessel. To see a  list of all the work we did to her when we bought her, please see our post about the mini-fit which outlines all the work we put into her.

We have been live-aboards for the past four years and are only selling because we needed a bigger boat to accommodate our family of five. She has been lovingly and very well maintained by and is ready to go sailing today. She comes VERY WELL EQUIPPED and we'd love to see her sail off to another horizon.

We are listing her "priced to sell" at $129K.

Interested parties please email windtraveler09 (at) gmail.com

That's her in a nutshell, now for some pics:

The main saloon. TONS of storage abound.

The galley, again, TONS of storage. Also boasts a front and top loading refrigerator, and an ample top loading freezer.

The nav station with new electronics and new control panel.

Forward head with two access doors so v-berth is en-suite.

The v-berth, again, TONS of storage. There is a large hanging locker to port not pictured.

Looking aft from the v-berth

The walk-thru to the aft cabin.

The control panel, easy access - it pulls down so working on wiring is easy.

Engine room access that most boaters DREAM of. Nothing was out of reach. Such a bonus.

Aft cabin with king-size bed and plenty of storage. 

Looking forward from aft cabin

Aft head with new corian countertops (2016)

Looking forward from walk-thru

Bright and airy main living area. Love all the light!

Lots of opening ports and hatches makes this boat super comfortable at anchor.

Roller furling boom makes Asante easy to singlehand.

She turns heads!

Miss this cockpit - so much space to play, hang out and entertain!

Aft cockpit is roomy making for loading and off loading the dinghy a breeze.

Foredeck

Trusty windlass with foot switches (and a helm control) and 280 feet of chain. Great set up.

We LOVE the cutter rig. We'd be hard-pressed to buy a boat without one. So many sail options and easy to change sails in shifting conditions.

The davits!! They are custom and amazing. Super ridgid and strong, and make hauling the dinghy up and down a breeze.

The layout of Asante.

If you are looking to toss off the dock lines and go cruising in the Caribbean - this could be your vessel!! She is a great boat and has made our family very happy and safe the past four years. Please feel free to share this post and any interested parties should email windtraveler 09 (at) gmail.com. Thank you!

Our last boat sold in less than 50 days after we listed her on our blog, please help us break that record and get another great family out on the water! SHARE!

The North Swell Rolls in, and I am Grateful

“The waves broke and spread their waters swiftly over the shore. One after another they massed themselves and fell; the spray tossed itself back with the energy of their fall. The waves were steeped deep-blue save for a pattern of diamond-pointed light on their backs which rippled as the backs of great horses ripple with muscles as they move. The waves fell; withdrew and fell again, like the thud of a great beast stamping.” 

―Virginia Woolf, The Waves

Tortola is known more for sailing than surfing... for the most part the trade winds blow out of the east, our waters are (fairly) protected by an archipelago of beautiful islands, and waves on the north shore are mediocre at best most of the time. It's why our beaches are so popular and perfect; they are calm and serene... perfect for swimming and lounging. Great for kids to play and splash. Perfect for paddle boarding and just kicking back... Until a north swell, rolls in, that is. Then Tortola becomes a surfers paradise and people come from around the world to surf here. When I asked my friend Aaron (a big wave surfer who live's on Hawaii's North Shore), if it really got that good here he replied, "Oh Brittany ... when it goes off - it goes OFF. It's a world-class wave".

So when there was talk that a North swell would be rolling in (they always know when it's coming due to weather patterns up north) - the biggest in eight years - I started getting excited. Partly because it's something different (yay, waves!), and partly because I am both in love with and awed by the power of the ocean (remember my review of The Wave?). If you have never had the pleasure of standing next to a beach where six to ten foot waves are crashing, let me tell you, it's incredible. The fury with which the sea hurtles itself toward land is one of the most humbling experiences to behold. The sound it makes when it crashes is almost deafening, you actually need to yell a bit to speak over it, and to see that same wave gently recede away back to the ocean...well, these magnificently and perfectly chaotic natural occurrences serve as a reminder about our place in this world. Quieting my mind is not something that comes naturally to me, but I am in my most meditative state when watching waves crash into the shore, one after another, after another... There is tremendous peace in the chaos of it all.

I am always up for a little adventure with our girls and when my dear friend Meg asked if we wanted to go "wave sighting" - I jumped. I had been thinking the exact same thing when she messaged me. We all piled into my car, cameras and kids in tow, and embarked on a spontaneous 'round the island' wave-hunting adventure. We hit all the major bays on the North side, starting in Apple and finishing in Josiah's. The drive, despite a couple fussy kids from time to time and the crazy island drivers who give me heart palpitations at every corner, was spectacular. Every turn offered a new view and I must have said, "I love it here SO much!" ten times. To live in a visually spectacular place is important to me, and holy moly, do we live in a visually spectacular place.

We stopped outside Bomba Shack and that's where we first saw the massive waves rolling in. The beaches had already all been closed because of this massive swell and the red "Do Not Swim" flags were flying in the stiff breeze. We drove along further and caught a glimpse of a "seaspraybow" - a rainbow created by the large amount of spray coming off the top of the waves glistening in the sunlight - the girls (expert rainbow spotters, in fact) were the first to see it from their view from the back seat. Pure beauty. We drove on further along the coastline, a couple waves crashing onto my car, up to the ridge road, where we continued our tour around hair-pin turns, up steep climbs and down swift slopes...we drove and drove, stopping to take pics, to tell the girls to take it in, to revel in the immense beauty of our adopted island, Tortola. The waves were roaring, powerful and magnificent from every angle. With every crash they screamed the sheer energy the ocean beholds. She can be calm, but she can be fierce. She is a force to be reckoned with.

Our final destination was in East End, in Josiah's bay. We were hoping to see surfers on the water but they weren't out this morning. The waves - we were told by some female surfers on a yoga/surf retreat that we'd just met - we're "too gnarly" in the bays we visited. Something about the period between them and the direction of the wind. We settled down at the beach, watching quietly and decided to get some snacks at Naomi's Place, a little snack shack right there on the beach.

If there is one thing that is quintessentially Caribbean to me, it is the local eatery run by a beautiful West Indian mama cooking her heart out. Naomi did not disappoint...her restaurant, a handful of tables with shell chimes dangling from every window, is as picturesque as can be. The kitchen is open and would pass no FDA test in the US, but it doesn't matter. It feels more like you are in her home than in a restaurant, and patience is the name of the game. Pots, pans and cooking utensils are everywhere and there is order in the disarray. Naomi, with her gentle demeanor and warm smile makes it that much lovelier. She shuffles around in the kitchen, tending casually to bubbling pots and spitting frying pans, her timing as natural and effortless as that of the waves to the shore.

As we waited for our food, the girls checked out Naomi's shell collection and played barefoot in the sand outside her place, we brought no toys and they were perfectly content to explore and play using their minds.  The tingling of shell chimes blowing in the wind combined with the dull roar of crashing waves and the tinny background drone of Naomi's alarm clock radio set the scene. I looked around, surrounded by people I love, and felt a humongous wave of gratitude wash over me. What began as a little spontaneous island adventure had shaken my senses, awakened my creativity and reminded me all that I love about island life.

And my God, do I love island life. For all the challenges and struggles it presents, the beauty it brings forth - for me, my family - is worth it all. Like the waves crashing into the shore, there is magnificence in the chaos.

“[The waves] move across a faint horizon, the rush of love and the surge of grief, the respite of peace and then fear again, the heart that beats and then lies still, the rise and fall and rise and fall of all of it, the incoming and the outgoing, the infinite procession of life. And the ocean wraps the earth, a reminder. The mysteries come forward in waves.” 

―Susan Casey, The Wave

Hiking with Tots: A Trip to Tortola's Sage Mountain

I'm of the belief that the natural world is a child's greatest playground, which is why you will find me outside with our kids as much as possible. Maria Montessori - founder of the renowned Montessori method of education - once said, "A child, more than anyone else, is a spontaneous observer of nature" and watching the wheels start turning when a little kid discovers a mud puddle or a giant leaf or a lizard on a branch is proof positive of this fact. There simply is no replacement for the natural world and the benefits of simply being in nature are vast. We are fortunate to live in an environment and community very conducive to outdoor play, and it just so happens that we also have a pretty beautiful National Park, Sage Mountain, just up the road. 

Scott, always more ambitious in his outings with our daughters, took all three for their first hiking experience at Sage Mountain a few weeks ago. On their own tiny legs, our trio hiked all the way to the top, and despite the fact that the hike is by no means 'difficult', we still found this impressive for an almost four year old and a pair of two year olds to accomplish with little protest. After that successful excursion, we have returned as a family two more times in the last two weeks, it's an easy way to kill a couple of hours where the kids are using their bodies and exploring in nature. Win/win all around.

Arriving at the gate of the park you are struck with two interesting sensations that are distinct deviations from those which we experience at sea level; the first is the smell. The magnificent perfume of damp earth, fallen leaves and wet moss fills the air. "Mmm....it smells so good mommy" exclaimed Isla when we stepped out of the car. It's distinct earthiness is both refreshing and energizing. The second sensation, is the temperature. The canopy of trees and foliage envelops you in it's mottled cocoon, taking you in completely. The almost impenetrable shade creates a damp coolness which is a welcome change from the wonderful, but unforgiving, tropical sun.

There are several trails you can take around the park, we opt to drive to the base and follow the well marked trails to the "highest point in the BVI". The hike can be a meandering stroll or a vigorous walk, it's up to you. There is a little restaurant at the base and the proprietor will give you a (rudimentary) map and help point you in the right direction. The paths are obvious, and while the girls and I - along with my sister - did manage to get a bit lost on our most recent excursion (were we supposed to go left or right at the fork?), it's a small enough hill that retracing your steps back to square one isn't too hard. It's all part of the adventure, and it's always an adventure with little tykes in tow.

The panoramas from the top are, of course, incredible. Vast azure water with islands dotting the horizon everywhere you look. It's peaceful and serene at the top, and with the cool forest air kissing your shoulders it's impossible not to have a feeling of calm as you take it all in. All is right in the world. Quintessential paradise. The place where the sea meets the sky. Where the forest greets the shore. Where the shade gives way to the sun. Nature at it's absolute finest. 

Mira and my mom learning about Sage at the base of the main trail.

Isla is our family "champion" hiker. Never complains, never falters. Just keeps putting one foot in front of the other.

Puddles are Mira's absolute FAVORITE. What kid doesn't love a good mud puddle? And who are we to deny them?

Checking out the unique "skeleton" of a giant leaf in the final stage of decomposition.

Grandpa and Mira

Beautiful. The light, the lush foliage, the circle of life.

Isla found this little fruit/flower. She's got the eyes of a Serengeti tracker.

Isla leading the way, and Haven found a friend to walk with for a moment.

"The woods are lovely, dark and deep. But I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep" -Frost

The beauty is in the details.

This child will climb anything and everything. The world is her playground!

Grandpa and Haven. 

We bring along snacks, in this case dried mango, to munch along the way. Snacks are key when hiking with tots!

My flaxen haired wild child.

Anyone else a fan of "The Lorax?" This reminds Isla and I of a Truffala Tree!

This happy little sprite loves to hike, climb and explore. Our girls are monkey's!

One of the many incredible views from the top.