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May 24, 2007
Queen Mary II's Ensign
Dave on the stern of the Queen Mary II, with her enormous ensign, and Brooklyn in the background.
Posted by dave at 10:31 AM | Comments (0)
Queen Mary II
Chis, aboard the Queen Mary II, with Governors Island in the immediate background, and Manhattan in the distant background.
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A Wonderful Evening
We hopped on a shuttle bus at Park Avenue and 42nd Street shortly before 6, destined for the Brooklyn Cruise Terminal. We arrived about 40 minutes later, with glimpses along the way of the enormous Queen Mary II. We saw her in December 2004, anchored outside of the harbour in Charlotte Amalie on St Thomas, US Virgin Islands. We could see her top decks from the promenade in town, towering over the top of the island out in the harbour.
She is very glamorous. We boarded on Deck 3, and we were greeted by dozens of crew, complete with the white linen towel over the arm. We grabbed a glass of champagne and went exploring. We found our way to the Promenade on Deck 7, and walked around. 3 laps is equivalent to 1.1 miles.
We went to the theatre at 7:30 for a performance by Patty LaPone. She was not in good voice, but did her best to belt out a selection of torch songs.
Dinner was served at 8:30 and wrapped up around 10:30. We had a wonderful chat with our dinner guests, and proceeded to make our way to the shuttles heading back to Manhattan. I think we finally got home around 1am. It was a lovely evening, and important to us to support two great New York arts institutions – the New York City Opera, and the Brooklyn Academy of Music.
A junior suite is US$25,000 per person for a 6 day cruise. Just in case you wanted to know.
Posted by dave at 10:24 AM | Comments (0)
May 23, 2007
Britannia Ball
We have accepted an invitation, for a small king's tax-deductible ransom, to the Britannia Ball tomorrow night. This event supports the New York City Opera and the Brooklyn Academy of Music. The event takes place aboard the Queen Mary 2, docked at the Brooklyn Cruise Terminal. The ship leaves the following day for a cruise to the Bahamas, sadly without us.
Which immediately brought to mind the necessity for formal wear. Chis recently bought a tux, because, you never know in his line of work, you just might need one. I, on the other hand, pitched my double-breasted tux that made me look short and fat, before we left on our interrupted sail around the world. Living on the boat made me cheap, er.. frugal. So I have not yet replaced the tux. But I did get a beautiful new crisp white shirt, to which I will append my midnight blue bowtie (which I did keep), and wear with a dark blue suit I recently had tailored by mail from China. It fits like a glove.
Chis will look like the Monopoly guy. I will look like his impoverished kin.
And so it goes.
Posted by dave at 07:21 PM | Comments (0)
May 22, 2007
Pillar of American Efficiency
Chis’ parents live in Mexico, and they take advantage of a service where their outgoing mail is couriered to Texas, where it is mailed by the US Postal Service, rather than getting stuck in the highly unreliable Mexico postal system. Periodically, Chis’ dad sends a shopping list for stamps. Anyone living in the US will know that the price of stamps just went up. Here’s a self-explanatory email I sent Chisholm (Chis’ dad).
“Dear Chisholm,
I have just returned from the post office, the pillar of efficiency. Chis and I came up with a plan this morning for your stamps: 75 41-cent US domestic, 150 69-cent Canada, 75 90-cent International, and 50 2-cent stamps to round-up any old 39-cent US domestic stamps you may have lying around. Am I losing you in the numbers yet? Wait, it gets better…
First, I asked for the International stamps, which just increased to 90-cents. Richard (according to his nametag and the tattoo of a cherub on his arm) looked at me sideways. “They haven’t been printed yet”. He disappeared for 10 minutes, and came back with 87-cent stamps, and a pile of 3-cents stamps, which together will get the mail to the UK.
Second, I asked for the US domestic stamps. That was easy. He handed me a pile of stamps.
Third, I asked for the Canada stamps. Richard shot me a look, as if I had asked him a second time to sell me the Brooklyn Bridge. “They haven’t been printed yet”. The new rate is 69-cents, up from 63-cents. I asked for the old 63-cent stamps, and a pile of 6-cent stamps to round them up. “We don’t have 6-cent stamps”. Now 20 minutes at the counter, I asked for more 3-cent stamps, two of which, plus the old 63-cent stamps, would get the mail to Canada. He disappeared for 10 minutes. He returned. “We don’t have any 63-cent stamps, and not enough 3-cent stamps, but I can sell you 75-cent stamps”.
I glazed over. I was numb.
Needless to say, the burgeoning envelope full of various stamps in multiple denominations will be carefully delivered on the weekend, with instructions.
Hasta viernes,
Dave
Posted by dave at 04:01 PM | Comments (0)
May 18, 2007
Uh Oh
This is an email exchange with good friend, Ted. To understand the context, you must see the entry on March 17 "Uncle O'Grimacey".
Ted writes:
Have you seen the latest two promotional Shrek milkshakes from McDonald's? Absolutely foul looking - from the McIrish McBarf days. If you don't have them there, well reason enough to list the condo and move back. NYC seems to have everything else, so I'll put a hold on the 'welcome back' banner.
Dave writes:
McDonald's manages quite nicely to completely miss me as a target. I have not stepped inside a McDonald's in probably 6 years, and although there is a McD's across the street from our building, when I walk by, I distract myself with all of the other sensory distractions. I can imagine that you land smack-dab in the middle of Rotten Ronny's target audience. What with growing kids, etc. However, on my fit-as-a-fiddle, quasi-vegetarian, health-nut high horse, I cannot imagine going anywhere near the place. But, because I admire Shrek (as a fellow underdog supporter), and I have a strange retro curiosity about non-milkshake shakes of electric green hues, I may, today, wander by and actually pay attention. I'll keep you posted on this anthropological study.
Ted writes:
you've got issues. do it for the Org.
Dave writes:
Uhhhh. So I walked by, looking disinterested, and saw nothing that looked like Shrek. I hesitated, thinking that just walking through the door would add 10 pounds to my waist. I went in. Miraculously, nothing happened. To my amazement, they have a neon green shake! Not a Shrek promotion. Are you ready for this? It's called... THE MINTY MUDBATH SHAKE. Why not just call it the "Booger Shake"? See what you made me do?
Ted writes:
there's two new green shakes; you have to go back and tell me the name of the other one.
Dave writes:
THE SWAMP SLUDGE MCFLURRY! But, technically, it's a McFlurry, not a shake. I think I deserve an award. A badge of honour. For the courage it took for me to walk into a McDonald's two days in a row. I can no longer hold my head up high and say "I have not stepped inside a McDonald's in 6 years." Oh, the shame. Have a great weekend!
Posted by dave at 02:59 PM | Comments (0)
May 08, 2007
Dogwoods in the Cemetery
Our silly little camera does not do the beauty of these trees outside our window much justice. It was this time last year we first looked at our condo, and it was the dogwood trees that did it for me. So rare to have such green space in a New York condo!
Posted by dave at 04:12 PM | Comments (0)
May 05, 2007
Cooper Island to Hodges Creek Marina
I slept like an angel, first in the cockpit, then at some dark hour I made it below. I woke, remarkably refreshed, at 5am. It was still dark, and I had to turn on a light to make coffee. Shortly before 7, Chis surfaced. We had breakfast, a swim, and readied ourselves for the return.
We compared notes. Was it sadness? Longing? Yearning? We were quiet, not especially chatty. We found ourselves dropping the mooring about an hour before we planned. We decided to sail, in whatever whisper of wind was blowing. And it was a whisper. We rolled along at barely 3 knots downwind, enjoying every last peaceful second of the end of this chapter. I couldn't bare making our final jounrey under motor. It just seemed fitting to sail. And we did. And it was magical.
We tied up at the marina, cleared off the boat, and seconds later they took Santana away to get cleaned up for the next crowd.
We hopped in a taxi to Long Bay Hotel and once finally there, we were despondent. We sat through lunch, quiet. I didn't want to talk about it. We found some chairs under the shade of a big palm tree and fell asleep. Deeply asleep. We couldn't explain why we so drained. The sun? The wind? The thought of returning to the City on Crack? We walked the beach, we swam, we snoozed, we walked the beach. Like we were pacing. Anxious.
Perhaps we have grown again, gained more confidence, alerted our instincts to a calling. I don't remember a vacation that left me feeling quite like this. I wish I could explain it.
The most valuable lessons in life are the ones you don't see until much later. Then you wonder why you didn't see it at the time. Life is full of precious moments, and few embed themselves so deeply to overwhelm the senses. This was one. This was magic. This was us.
Life is beautiful.
Posted by dave at 03:56 PM | Comments (0)
May 04, 2007
Cooper Island
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Swimming with the Dinghy
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Norman Island to Cooper Island
The sun is just peaking up over the hills surrounding the anchorage, and people are beginning to stir. Sunrise reminds me of our overnight sails, where the sunlight finally took away the menacing chill of darkness, when we could see the horizon again, land if we were near it, and all those things we could have hit but could not see. Like containers that fall off the ships. And whales that sleep just beneath the surface.
Chis was up before 7 this morning, which never happens. We had coffee and a bit of breakfast, and decided to make hay. The Bight was emptying out quickly. It was like someone fired a starter's pistol.
We got away on a second exodus. We rounded out around the leeward side of the Indians, a rugged rock upcropping, sacrificing a bit of distance for deeper water. Besides, the further from the islands, the more likely we would find some wind. The winds had dropped to about 10 knots from the 15-20 knots it has been blowing since we arrived on Saturday. We were right. We were on a lovely close-hauled starboard tack when we started to notice an intense squall building to the south of us. Tacking would put us right in the middle of it. We decided to stay as far from the storm as possible. It paid off. We got clipped by winds on the edge of the storm, but nothing hair-raising. We slapped a reef in the jib until the winds subsided, then shook the reef out.
We had a wonderful sail, tacking a couple of times to give way to other boats. We arrived at the Cooper Island anchorage shortly before noon. The jib sheet caught around the deck brush that was lashed to the rail. We didn't see it, and wailed on the sheet until the brush handle snapped in two, sending the brush overboard, and the handle inboard. No injuries (except for the brush). In hindsight, it was a stupid place to put it.
After going ashore to the Cooper Island Beach Club for some lunch, we finished our books, and sat mid-ships watching the sunset, contemplating life. We talked about having a boat on Long Island Sound, or buying one through Sunsail and putting it out on charter. Or returning to live-aboard living. One thing is for sure - the sea is in our blood. And we are blessed that neither of us suffers from mal-de-mer. And most importantly, we can do this and not kill each other. If a relationship can survive, and growm living together is a small space, testing the limits of communication, and respecting each other's strenghts while supporting each other's weaknesses, that is something truly special.
We watched a large power boat leave the anchorage shortly before sunset. "He" was driving. "She" was reading, or putting on sunscreen, or sipping her martini, or whatever, oblivious to her necessary role as lookout, or safety person, or whatever. He roared out, went up-island a ways, then circled back past the anchorage. He wasn't planing, so he kicked up a huge wake, sending everyone in the anchorage into a series of rolls. Boys and their toys. He wais obviously compensating for something. He may have a small penis, but he has a HUGE carbon footprint!
Posted by dave at 08:16 PM | Comments (0)
Chis Cleaning Up, The Bight, Norman Island
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The Indians, off Norman Island
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May 03, 2007
Soper's Hole to The Bight, Norman Island
The roosters woke me this morning. Then the barking dogs. No spectacular sunrise to admire this morning because of the big gray rain clouds scooting across the hills.
I hopped in the dinghy and whipped into the marina office to check weather. What a surprise. East winds 15-20 knots, scattered rain. The weather here is so predictable with the trade winds. We dropped the mooring shortly after some heavy rain, and set off for The Bight on Norman Island. It used to be a busy anchorage, because of the famous Willy T, an old permanently moored schooner-turned-bar, where women who leap off the second deck into the water, sans-top, receive a free Willy T thong. Whatever. Word has it there are no more free thongs. They wouldn't fit me anyway.
It was a magical sail. With 20 knots on the nose, we pinched as close to the wind as we could. The boat surprises me with her agility at 40 degrees to the wind. However, with way too much weather helm, we shortened sails to keep her from griping up into the wind and dragging the rudder. We topped 7 knots, and had a blast tacking up the Francis Drake Channel between the south shore of Tortola and the strong of smaller islands to Tortola's south.
One of the cupboards in the galley flew open as we heeled. Spaghetti went flying everywhere.
We passed a catamaran motoring in 20 knot winds. It was called Merlin. I yelled "Hey Merlin, show us your magic". He carried on motoring. He probably couldn't hear me over the sound of the engine.
We arrived at the anchorage well before noon, put the boat to bed, read for a bit, had some lunch, and went ashore to explore. We discovered a charter boat full of very burned, very drunk people making complete fools of themselves in a very quiet little spot on the beach called Pirate's. We chose a spot a little ways from them, and enjoyed the breeze, and the soca music, which sadly had strange sound effects mixed in. Like cell phone ringtones and fog horns. Not my kind of music.
We made reservations for dinner, and returned to the boat for a swim, a snooze, and some reading. After a much needed shower, we went back to Pirate's for dinner. It was wonderful, complete with a steel drum band. The restaurant is a simple post and beam structure, painted white. They have allowed people to write all over the posts - mostly boat names, crew names, little figures, funny little sayings. Consistently written in black, the names blurred together after a while.
The effort was a poor cousin to the Chat'n'Chill in George Town, Great Exuma Island in the Bahamas. It is a shack on the beach, only a few tables (three I think), with t-shirts hanging from the ceiling like sails. It's kitchy, quirky and completely unique. We realized the difference - the t-shirts were from boats and crew that had sailed much more than the Bahamas. There is good reason they call George Town "Chicken Harbour". This is live-aboard cruiser territory. Pirate's is charter-boat territory. One week or two, here to take it all in the little slice of time they selected to be here. It's a different state of mind. We talked about how many charterers were former live-aboards. Chis guessed 2%. I might have guessed slightly more.
Whatever the case is, we're happy to be here, excited about having mastered an unfamiliar boat, and we've already started a list of things we would do differently next time. I miss the live-aboard life, and this has put the bug back. But with our departure looming, I also miss New York.
Posted by dave at 03:10 PM | Comments (0)
Tall Ship Picton Castle, Francis Drake Channel
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May 02, 2007
Sailorman Chis, Cane Garden Bay
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Cane Garden Bay to Jost Van Dyke, er... Soper’s Hole
This morning, I cannot find my specs. Just last night, Chis was saying I needed new ones. It seems he doesn’t like the paper clip that holds the right arm together at the hinge. The screw fell out on the Atlantic crossing, and I just haven’t bothered to replace it. I make do. I am becoming my grandfather. Maybe Chis hid them, forcing me to finally deal with the paper clip.
I look across to Jost Van Dyke and a massive squall to the north out to sea. Another one seems to be forming over Tortola. I’ll run some garbage ashore, and by the time I return, Chis will likely have woken. Four days left, three days in, and I feel like we’ve been doing this forever. I don’t feel rushed or in a hurry.
We dropped the mooring shortly after 10 and set the jib for a leisurely 5 mile sail downwind to Little Harbour on Jost Van Dyke. We chose the least popular of the three anchorages on the island, opting to hike to the famous Foxy’s Bar. We reached the entrance, and spotted only one boat, and another leaving. The wind was out of the southeast, exposing the anchorage to swells, and the one boat that remained was rolling like a ping-pong ball in a washing machine. We carried on down the island to check the other two anchorages, and they were just as bad.
Plan B: Back to Cane Garden Bay, now a beat into increasing winds. Well, we wanted to sail. We had a wonderful sail, until we reached the anchorage to discover it jam packed.
Plan C: Soper’s Hole. A downwind/ beam-reach right down the lee short of Tortola. 25 knots winds became 5 knots. After countless sail configurations, we turned on the engine. We arrived in Soper’s Hole to find plenty of choice moorings.
It was a long day in the end, full of disappointments, a jammed main halyard, fluky winds, and an aborted hike to Foxy’s. We have been to Foxy’s before, and frankly it was the hike I looked most forward to. We’ll go next time.
We opted for beef stir-fry for dinner instead of barbeque. The wind is just too strong. Besides, I feel for the owner of the new Oyster moored just behind us. They would be none-too-impressed to find ash all over their decks.
Posted by dave at 03:06 PM | Comments (0)
May 01, 2007
Laughing Gulls, Cane Garden Bay
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Cane Garden Bay
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Drying Out, Cane Garden Bay
Up before the sun again this morning, I watched the sun rise over the hills of Tortola, and enjoyed watching people pop up from below decks to see if anything changed, or to remind themselves of where they are. Like groundhogs.
Today, we plan a short trip up the north side of Tortola to a place called Cane Garden Bay. This was a favourite spot of ours on our last trip. It tends to be a bit noisy with the bands on the beach, so we will choose a spot well off the shore. There are a few reefs for snorkeling, some good restaurants, a wonderful beach, and a couple of little shops.
The wind is not calming down, and the clouds are getting flatter on the bottom. I don’t expect this wind to drop much. It’s blowing 25 knots this morning, which is wonderful, but probably too much for Santana. I think we’ll put a reef in both sails today.
After Sam’s Anything Goes Omelet (me) and pancakes (Chis) at Pisces, we stopped into the grocery for shower soap and headed back to the boat. A big storm had been forming over the island, and the top had now been sheared off. It was time to go. Once clear of land, we set the main with one reef, and set the jib. We were galloping along beautifully when the first of the 30 knot gusts put the boat right on her ear. Santana likes 15-20 knots – anything more makes her cranky. Sailing the lee of these islands is never easy, with gusts and shifty winds. The mountains do all sorts of weird things to the winds blowing all the way across the Atlantic from Africa.
We arrived at the anchorage at Cane Garden Bay just as a squall hit. It was short and quick, and we got plenty soaked picking up the mooring. We got the boat put to bed just as the second, much larger squall descended down the mountain into the bay. This one had strong winds, heavy rain, and much reduced visibility. We sat in the cockpit, soaking wet, watching long threads of rain descend in front of the backdrop of the lush green mountains. The rain seemed to pause just above the surface of the water, just long enough for the wind to come and move it horizontally. It was a beautiful storm to wacth.
It finally passed by mid-afternoon, and we went ashore to explore. We spotted a leatherback turtle on our way. We walked the beach and pondered the river of rain water that had carved its way through the beach. There was a woman with a shovel filling in one of the rivers that by now was dry. A dog lay nearby rolling in the sand. I said to the dog “Hey, you’re not being much help”. The woman laughed. Of course, I could have said the same thing to myself. In our former lives as live-aboards, I would have offered. But with precious few days, priorities are priorities. Spoiled rotten.
We returned to the boat, and read our books. Chis is reading Elizabeth George’s newest book “With No One as Witness”. I am reading Carl Hiassen’s “Lucky You”. Shortly before sunset, I gathered our clothes from nature’s dryer and paused to watch the sunset and do a little yoga. After dinner, we lounged in the cockpit and listened to the music wafting off the beach, listened to the wind and the water burbling around the boat, pondered tomorrow’s journey, and fell asleep under the stars.
Posted by dave at 08:12 PM | Comments (0)
Galley Wench, Cane Garden Bay
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