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WHERE YOU'LL
FIND US SAILING
THESE DAYS
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Spring, Summer and Fall
(in the winter, it's just too damn cold...but you knew that already
didn't you?)
Our time on the water is being spent closer to home these days.
Family and other priorities have brought us back to Ontario where
we've been sailing the northern waters of Lake Huron. As you
can see from the photo above, there's an extra layer of clothing
involved, but it is easily as beautiful as any of the tropical waters
we have spent so many years in. Pristine waters, stunning
rocks, and hiking to die for. Maybe being more local for now is
not so bad.
To quote from the T.S. Eliot poem for which we named our boat, Little
Gidding:
we shall not
cease from exploration
and the end of
our exploring will be to arrive where we started
and know the
place for the first time
See you out there,
Eileen |
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BEST PIECE
OF
CRUISING ADVICE
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Summer
2006
(see also our weekly
log at BoatUS)
Locks make lovely echo chambers. Sort of like singing in the
shower. Mind you, song isn't what you typically hear bouncing
off the lock walls. As couples on pleasure boats climb their
first "flight" of locks, you can hear the sound of
marriages coming apart. It's a challenging right of passage,
particularly for new cruisers with shiny gelcoat.
We recently brought our 36' sailboat, Little Gidding, back
through the canals of upstate New York, heading north to spend
the summer on the Great Lakes. We pulled our mast, laid it on
the deck and powered through the 30 locks it takes to move from the
Hudson River to Lake Ontario. This was our first time back in
the Erie Canal system since we cast off the docklines in Toronto in
1994 and began cruising full time.
In '94 we had a crew member along for the ride through the
locks. Not that we'd planned that exactly - he showed up with
his duffle bag as we were casting off , climbed aboard and announced
he was coming along for the first few days. I didn't think much
of the idea. This was, after all, the start of our grand
romantic adventure. What did we need with a third wheel?
It turned out that his presence was probably the only thing that kept
us from killing each other as we locked through. With a witness
aboard, we'd never get away with it.
In 1994 we were in such a desperate hurry to get south. We had
some silly idea that until we'd put a serious number of miles under
the keel and could see the palm trees swaying in the breeze, we
weren't really cruising. So we rushed. And rushing
through those locks was a great way to ratchet up the stress level.
So here's the piece of advice I most like to share with people who
are about to embark on the cruising lifestyle: slow down.
The islands will be there when you arrive. It's the quality of
your experience that counts, not the quantity.
See you out there,
Eileen |
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GEORGE
TOWN
Great Exuma
The Bahamas |
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March
2006
(see also our weekly
log at BoatUS)
After
a leisurely month in the Abacos we sailed south to the Exuma chain
and on down to George Town for the height of the cruising season when
upwards of 400 boats gather in Elizabeth Harbour.
What
makes George Town such a focal point for cruisers? Even those
who firmly resolve to make it a brief pit stop find it hard to
escape. For new cruisers, it offers a welcome respite from the
steep learning curve. The trip south has been littered with
narrow reef entrances, current swept anchorages, clocking cold front
winds, and lots of skinny water. By the time they hit George
Town, most folks need a break. It's a gathering point for all
the new faces met en route and the social schedule is packed with
both impromptu and well organized events. The town offers the
necessary conveniences: laundry, internet, provisions, airport access.
The
physical configuration of the harbour has something to do with it
too. Most boats anchor in the lee of Stocking Island, a ten
minute dinghy run from the town on the opposite side of the
harbour. The cruising community is it's own enclave, with the
expanse of water acting as the gate. Stocking Island is still
relatively undeveloped and it's network of trails and collection of
unspoiled beaches have left cruisers with a false sense that the
island is almost "theirs". Time and money (=
development pressures) are taking their toll on this illusion.
For
some folks, the cruising life in George Town has morphed into a
seasonal liveaboard community. It's no longer about sailing or
even about travelling; it's about living on a boat in a beautiful and
affordable setting with a bunch of like minded people. It's a
lovely community but, frankly, its salvation lies in the fact that
even the long term regulars eventually tire of the charms of this
harbour in particular and living aboard in general and head back to a
land based life. And that turnover keeps the community fresh,
and open to new faces and ideas. Personally, I think a degree
of transience is essential to what the cruising life is all
about. We've met a lot of new cruisers here in George Town and
their enthusiasm gives us a renewed sense of just how much this life
has to offer.
From
here we'll head south briefly, hoping to stray off the beaten
path. Then we'll turn north, heading well out of the way of
summer storms.
See
you out there,
Eileen |
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BEACHING IT
IN
THE BAHAMAS |
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January
2006
(see also our weekly
log at BoatUS)
We're in the Abacos in the Bahamas, Green Turtle Cay to be
specific. There's a stunning reef-protected beach that runs
down the east side of the island and that's where we've been walking
and snorkelling since arriving here last week from Florida. The
beaches of the Bahamas are unmatched elsewhere in the Caribbean.
The beach is my place to walk, to think, to stop thinking, to have a
long talk with a friend. I'm rarely drawn to the beach as a
place to lie around, sleep or even party. And except for the
people watching, I loathe a busy beach. For me the best of the
beach has nothing to do with the reek of coconut oil and stepping
over pink bodies recovering from the excesses of the night
before. The beach is not about zoning out for me. It's
pretty much the opposite - the beach is about paying attention.
The beach asks me to pay attention to subtle changes in the timing of
the tide and the firmness of the sand. It makes me focus
on rhythm, color and texture. It sweeps the clutter out of my head.
Shelling is the act of paying close attention to what's immediately
before me on the beach. Snorkelling the reef is a parallel
experience in the water. A friend claims that the longer she
snorkels, the less territory she covers when she's out there.
"There's so much to see" she says, "when you stop
moving for a while".
If there's a common folly among cruisers in their early days, it's
the desire to cover ground quickly. And why not? All
those wonderful destinations are out there beckoning. But
there's so much to see, when you stop moving for a while.
See
you out there,
Eileen |
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