Or the story of how, under the Light of the Moon, there appeared a few large bruises on my Butt, Thigh, and Arm.

****

We'd spent much more time in Samanà than we originally planned. Intended. Or budgeted for.

Puerto Bahia was a great marina, with fantastic and friendly folks, wonderful relaxing amenities and just a perfect place to be while the the winds out there were busy being uncooperative for our our departure Onwards and Northwards.

"What is UP with these COLD fronts anyways" I sighed, as yet another Chris Parker forecast had us feeling... a tad chilled with his squelched Words of Wisdom.

As much as we would have loved to have stayed longer in the Dominican Republic, there's just so much to see and do, the lack of ease of movement without the necessary Despachos, the lack of anchoring spots between jumps, were all making things rather difficult to plan a passage to see them all.

Then one day, the refresh of the Weather Pages revealed a glimmer of some arrows pointing in the right direction.

"It's not the best window" grumbled Dave.
"I know" I said my chin bopping up and down as I agreed.
"It'll be a little spirited" suggested Dave
"I know" I responded, and sighed.
"Seas will be up to almost 3 meters" Dave said.
I cringed.

"We could wait until the following day but the winds will be stronger and not quite right, and the seas not that much more settled so..."

"Let's go!" we both agreed.

We busied ourselves prepping Banyan for a longer than usual passage. From Engine Checks to Jacklines, from Rigging Inspections to Food Preps. From Ditch Bag supplies, to a plenty full Cockpit SnackBag.

We estimated and calculated roughly 210 nautical miles to passage, at an average of 6 knots, it would take us roughly 35 hours.

"I really don't like using the word roughly" when talking this kind of talk, I laughed out loud, and repeated to myself, in a more affirmative type of talk that I like,

"So an approximate distance of 210 nm, at our average speed of 6 knots, would take us about 35 hours"

We dropped marina lines by 07:30 in the morning,



hopeful that we would get a glimpse of some of the impressive whales in action as we left Bacardi Island behind us.

"Look there" I yelled in happy awe, and Dave responded, "Yup... wow, look at that, and over there" and we both pointed in two different directions.

How do you point your camera at all that??

The big beautiful beasts were active, but so were the increasing seas as we started to hobby horse towards them, which didn't result in any impressive photo-results except for a few Tail Slaps that sent us, with Splashes, on our way.



Getting out of the Bay was surely the longest part as we both cringed every time the boat thudded into the seas that were more than confused. We kept heading into it, trying hard to get out of it.



We both remembered how awed we were when we first reached the Dominican Republic four years ago, as her tall green mountain ranges materialized out of the morning mists.

This time we looked behind us, watching with a sort of melancholy, the mountains slowly fading and disappearing as the grey mists enveloped them, and knew that it might be a long time before we would see such impressive heights of Adventurings again.

New and Different Adventures were waiting for us, and we looked eagerly ahead as the marina in Ortega Landing, with a haul out in Green Cove Springs (Florida), already reserved for early May, called our Schedules Forth.

Once we cleared land and the ensuing confusion of the swirling washing machine type of currents, the winds and seas settled into a rhythmic push as we surfed down the waves at impressive speeds and comfortable motions.

The Shepherd's Pie I'd prepped for supper came in handy, and it made two quick meals as we ate and sailed along, the hours seemingly flying by as we counted the miles we'd covered, and guess-estimated many more to go.

The rising moon was full, large and bright



her large moon craters keeping us company during the night shifts.

Neither one of us could go below to rest, so we both kept watch, in alternating short shifts, attuned to when one dozed off and the other perked up, attuned to the motion of the waves, and the sounds of the wind, watching for any AIS blips, or lights on the horizons, or cloud clover that might signal a squall.

Settling into the cockpit bench, I leaned back, my head resting on my life jacked, and closed my eyes just for a moment, allowing the black of night to overwhelm my senses, and then... THUMP.

"What are you doing?" exclaimed Dave, as he sat right up the loud thump in the night unfamiliar to his ears, as he looked down to see me wedged hard against the deck by the cockpit table, quite a narrow, and rather uncomfortable place to be.

Thankfully I was fine, if not a little bruised, and well aware that that was not the place to have a nap.

The morning hours had us enjoying our coffee while laughing at the fact that I had fallen out of bed.

And on starboard side, a stowaway,



in fact there were two, but a large wave splashed the little one back to the depths of the seas before I got to my camera.





We rolled in the jib and pointed our bow at Big Sand Cay, but pretty soon the winds pointed their preferred direction, and our side to side roll,

"Nope, not gonna be a good time to be anchored here" we both said at once, and pointed Banyan's bow back out, unfurled the jib, and settled back for another three hours. And lunch.

We were anchored in the flat shallow waters of Cockburn Harbour pretty soon after the dishes were cleared.

The log book entry got ascribed with the following information. 14:30 p.m., 215 nm, total time clocking in at 31 hours.

Safe and sound. A little bruised. A little tired. And yet buzzing with adrenaline that had us splash the dinghy with plenty of time to clear in with Customs.

It was going to cost us 100$ for a week's cruising permit. They made it quite loud and clear, with forms to sign to make sure they were loud and clear, that even one minute after that one week was up, there would be an additional $300 charge to keep cruising the TCI. Yikes !!

"We better watch our weather !!" said Dave as he clambered back onboard, and I handed him the Arrival Beer.

A cleanup of the Banyan. A swim on the anchor, which perhaps wouldn't even have been necessary given we were in such clear and shallow waters. Supper. And before we knew it, we were asleep, under the light of the full moon rising.