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Winter
2004/2005
(see also our weekly
log at BoatUS)
We're
on our way to the Northwestern Caribbean. We'll spend
Christmas in Honduras or Guatemala or Belize, depending on where the
winds and currents fetch us up. After a busy fall of playing
the boat shows and preparing the boat for another cruising season,
we're ready to get off the beaten track for a while. We really
enjoyed the leisurely year we spent in those Central American waters
in 1997/1998. We're hoping that the barrier reef has had enough
time to recover from the battering it took with Hurricane Mitch
months after we sailed north from that area.
We've
experienced both the best and the worst of times at Christmas while
out here cruising. The downside is probably pretty obvious:
we're far from family and old friends at a time when being close is
what it's all about. There are ways to bridge the distance -
email and phone patches over the ham radio being among the best of
them. We're still trying to convince our families to shift the
traditional Christmas dinner from December 25th to the summer
solstice on June 21st, when we're usually home for a visit.
While we may feel a little sorry for ourselves come Christmas day,
the folks we left behind have a little trouble mustering up heartfelt
sympathy for us while they are shovelling the driveway.
On
the upside, we've shared the company of other cruisers for many
wonderful Christmas celebrations. Some of them were good
friends before we gathered together; they were all good friends
by the end of the day. An open heart is one of the
characteristics of the cruising persona. When the opportunity
to connect presents itself, we take advantage of it. Of course,
why cruise if you're not interested in meeting new people in new
places? It really is the whole point.
See
you out there,
Eileen |
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Fall
2004
Our route map bears an eerie similarity to all the
hurricaines that tracked around and directly over our
boat, Little Gidding, in Florida this year!
She's fine and we're grateful. |
(see
also our weekly log at BoatUS)
September
14th marked the tenth anniversary of our casting off the docklines
and going cruising. No one is more amazed than us that an
entire decade has passed since we sailed away from Toronto. At
our going away party someone boldly predicted, "I figure you're
either back in six months or we'll never see you again."
I'm not sure if "never see you again" meant he thought we'd
settle on some remote island or if he assumed we'd sink the boat on
our first ocean passage.
Ironically,
we marked the anniversary on dry land. That's because we're
into the fall boat show season and I'm busy singing for my supper,
not to mention my new mainsail. (performance
schedule)
We
look a little older now than we did a decade ago although we like to
think we've retained our youthful good looks better than the boat
has. We're often asked how much longer we'll be out here.
We take it a year at a time, as we always have.
We'll
be back on the boat come November. Look for us in the Bahamas
and the Western Caribbean this winter.
See
you out there,
Eileen
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Indiantown Boatyard |
They mean it
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Put to bed for a few months |
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July,
2004 (see
also our weekly log at BoatUS)
Little
Gidding. our Bayfield 36 sailboat, is hauled out on the hard in
the middle of a Florida swamp after returning from Cuba. I
thought the signs reading "Don't Feed The Alligators" were
a cute affectation until I saw one glide by the haulout basin.
A stroll though the Indian Town Boatyard is a study in every known
device to keep out sun and stave off mildew. The barn
ventilators that have sprouted on many boats in long term storage are
one of the more creative adaptations I've laid eyes on. The
boatsitter who's taking the occasional peek at our boat encouraged us
to put out some kill-all toxic stuff to keep the bug population
down. ("Don't worry, I'll air it out for you before
you get back." Riiiiight.)
Our
marathon two day drive up to Canada didn't seem so long compared to
serious passages on the boat. Not so long but much
riskier! David was utterly horrified to discover that seniors'
rates at the cheap roadside hotels kick in at fifty. He
threatened to drive all night through if I revealed his age at the
check in desk.
So
now we're back in Canada for the next few months. I'm playing
at a handful of private sailing rendezvous and regattas. Ya
gotta love the enthusiasm of those Great Lakes sailors. It's a
short season and that makes it all the more precious. After
giving a concert at a sailing festival on Lake Huron a couple of
weeks ago, we sat in the cockpit of a friend's boat drinking spiked
cocoa and watching a light parade through our steaming
breaths. Cold, beautiful, and not to be missed.
The
main reason we're taking a bit of a break from the cruising life
this summer is to offer some support to my folks. We're trying
to reconcile the footloose freedom of the cruising life with a sense
of family responsibility.
While
canoeing with one of my big brothers last week, I told him about all
the little things I was looking forward to doing this summer while
we're land based: berry picking, wine making, enjoying the
conveniences of modern living. It was a good reality check when
he looked at me hard for a moment and said, "I wouldn't make any
permanent trade offs based on that list if I were
you." I know he's right. It won't be long
before these lubberly pleasures fade and I'm pining for the
boat. I've already gorged myself on strawberries and I
can live without a washer and dryer on hand. I am, however, a
little worried that I'm ruining myself with hi speed internet
access. Enjoy your surfing, but take a lesson from those
Great Lakes sailors and get out on the water while the boating's good.
I'll
be back on the boat this fall and playing at lots of boating events
on the east coast (New England, the Chesapeake, Florida).
Please have a look at my performance schedule
from time to time to see if I'll be in your area. This winter
we'll be cruising the Bahamas and/or the Western Caribbean.
See
you out there,
Eileen |
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Living off the sea
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Waiting out
heavy winds |
Travelling inland
in high style |
Lighting our way |
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MAY
2004
Cuba's
North Coast
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May
2004 (see
also our weekly log at BoatUS)
We've
been in Cuba for the past month. This is the second time we've
cruised Cuban waters. Several years ago we sailed the south
coast for a couple of months. This year we decided to try the
north coast.
Cuba
is a unique country. The Cuban people are among the most
hospitable folks we have ever encountered. The coastline is
mostly undeveloped and the beaches are pristine. You need to
have a high tolerance for officials (ever polite and friendly, mind
you) and be able to deal with the confusion that arises from
operating within both a tourist and a local economy.
It's
fair to say that the tourism industry in Cuba doesn't really grasp
that cruisers are much more independent than regular tourists.
Marina officials, in particular, try very hard to steer cruisers into
typical (dollar generating) tourist activities. Checking in and
out of ports remains cumbersome and officials have a tough time
understanding the need for small boats to remain flexible and ready
to drastically change their plans according to the
weather. Speaking a little spanish makes it possible to
negotiate more leeway.
During
the past month we've done some inland exploring in a wide variety of
vehicles run by their resourceful operators. Bicyle taxis,
horse drawn carts, rickety trains and gleaming tourist buses have
carried us across the country. The facades of the town squares
are looking a little less rundown now than they did a few years
ago. But our visits to Cuban homes revealed a continuing
austerity. Unless, of course, your job gives you access to US
dollars. So much for a classless society!
The
fishing has been excellent. One day we pulled a beautiful
mahi-mahi over the stern, and the next day we gathered up twenty
conch in five minutes while wading through knee deep water.
Lobsters are to be found on the reefs or from local fishermen.
We
are among the few people we are aware of who have sailed both coasts
of Cuba. Given our limited experience, we would now recommend
the south coast over the north. Plentiful remote (and
offical-free) anchorages abound in the Gardens of the Queen.
The spearfishing is unbelievable. Access to interesting towns
and fresh food is more convenient. But Cubans, obviously,
are to be found everywhere and they are the main reason to go to Cuba.
See
you out there,
Eileen |
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David checks the anchor |
Tug-o-war on
Stocking Island |
Cockpit fish feast |
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March
2004
(see
also our weekly log at BoatUS)
I'm
back aboard Little Gidding after a week of giving seminars at
the Miami Boat Show. It's a bit of a shock to the system to go
from the Exumas to the buzz of a big city and then back again.
Next to meeting a lot of great people, the best part of doing the
boat show was having a long hot bath at the end of each day!
The Miami show crowd is a bit of a trip - in addition to all the
serious sailors there's a parade of heavy gold jewellery, stilleto
heels and silicone implants.
I
was desperate to get back to the boat at the end of it all (absence
makes the boat grow funner) but had to laugh when I saw that it was
blowing like stink and we had twenty minutes of daylight left in
which to reanchor the boat in a somewhat less exposed spot.
Okay, so maybe I wasn't laughing at the time.
Now
I'm playing music on the beach in George Town and catching up on a
few boat projects. I've also been writing some new songs: Shellfish
Man for the guys with spearfishing obsessions, Where Have All
The Pirates Gone? for the someday-soon sailors hanging in the
Florida Keys, Anchor Lights for one of those daily
moments when I can see so clearly why I live the way I do.
Right now I'm working on a song about the impression that Hurricaine
Isabel made on me last September in The Chesapeake. It often
takes a few months, sometimes even a few years, for an experience to
settle into a song. I guess they call that gaining perspective.
See
you out there,
Eileen
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Hope Town anchorage |
Hope Town
main thoroughfare! |
Junkanoo float |
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Jan
22, 2004
(see
also our weekly log at BoatUS)
We are in Hope Town on Elbow Cay in the Abacos, one of the most
charming islands in the northern Bahamas. Last night I gave a
concert to help out the building fund for the Wyannie Malone Museum.
Since crossing the Gulf Stream in December, we've had quiet
times at remote anchorages and the pleasure of a family visit.
I'm happy to be back where the beaches are long and virtually
empty. David speared his first lobster of the season a couple
of days after we arrived. My snorkel-happy brother went home
with lots of sealife tales - including some memorable sightings of
turtles and sharks.
After many visits to these islands we finally managed to be in the
right place at the right time to experience Junkanoo, the
longstanding Bahamian carnival held on Boxing Day and New Year's
Day. At Green Turtle Cay the parade is a daytime event which is
great for the kids but probably makes shy visitors like us a little
more self-conscious about joining the parade.
The sudden and contentious increase in cruising fees in the Bahamas
has kept some repeat visitors from returning this year but doesn't
seem to have deterred the newcomers. We've made a bunch of new
friends and look forward to running into them as we work our way down island.
Later today we'll head out and sail south through the night. A
clear sky, a new moon - there should be great star action.
We'll hang out at Royal Island (off the Island of Eleuthera) for a
couple of days and then make our way to George Town where we'll base
ourselves for a month or so. I'll make a detour to Miami by
plane (nothing goes to weather like a 747) to play at the Strictly
Sail show from February 12 to 17.
See
you out there,
Eileen
more
cruising reports: 2003
more
cruising reports: 2002
more
cruising
reports: 2001 |
www.eileenquinn.com |
