When you wake up in the middle of the night, 'cause somehow things just don't feel right, you know you're a sailor at heart, right??

We're in the midst of a week of Tropical Waves which have been bringing unsettled weather across our bow. Life can be humidly sunny with mirror glass waters, and then you look out and this is what you see,



which can easily bring a sense of warning to your immediate future.

If we have time, we scurry around to get any laundry drying in the wind off our lines, put in the bimini/dodger window, cockpit cushions go down below before all hell breaks loose.



The resulting torrential downpour actually hurts, as Dave has attested to, being out there and trying to reclamp one of the bow tarps fasteners so it won't blow away in the 30knot plus gusts.



Usually the rains come and go quickly and the sun that preceded them comes back out to play in the bright blue skies, which results in an afternoon Volleyball game,



(P.S.: Is that Dave back there about to get face-bombed by the ball or does he bounce it back and they win??!!)

But not these past few days, the skies have remained dark and dreary, the rains have not come and gone, they have just kind of stayed. We haven't seen this much rain in the whole of our last year out on the water.

Although, truth be told, I have to admit that Mother Nature quite cooperated with us yesterday. We were able to dodge the rain for a morning Yoga Session at Secret Harbour Marina with Pierre-Yves (Umido) and our muscles have been quite relaxed ever since. And likewise for a major run of provisioning that allowed us to bring everything back on board before the next session of showers hit. Of course, trying to put all the stuff we bought away, while down below with windows closed, is no easy feat.

And you know you have great friends that brave the weather and drop in for some Birthday Cake !!



So back to waking up in the middle of the night feeling something wasn't quite right. Dave looked out the "bedroom window" and noticed THE BOAT with the flashing cockpit STROBE LIGHT, that was way "out there" when we went to bed, was now perilously close to being way too close. As in swinging wildly right beside us.

This flashing strobe light of his illuminated our bedroom on a regularly timed basis and we both jumped up and ran out to see. Everything looks much more dangerous in the darkness of pitch-black night. The winds just blowing and howling, increasingly so, and the boat shuddering in response. The sudden onslaught of surprisingly cold rain pelting down daggers of wetness that pierced the not yet woken up skin.

Much time elapsed as we prepped and fretted. Got out our rain jackets, "just in case". Prepped our fenders "just in case" and got our air horn ready "just in case". Turned our engine on at one point "just in case". And discussed SOP's "just in case".

The owner(s) never once came out for a look-see in this very gusty weather during our watch. Dave shone the light across his boat a few times hoping that that might wake them up. It didn't but the cat noticed and responded by meowling in the midnight madness.

It was almost daylight when Dave finally said, "he's in the cockpit" at which time my body relaxed (a bit) and we finally fell asleep. Sort of. But not really.

This morning, things look a tad different, and yet, not much so. The boat is still way too close for comfort. He didn't seem to have an issue and after telling Dave he's leaving shortly to get a mooring ball, has not yet, in three hours, reappeared, so we assume he's gone off on the shopping bus. Or somewhere.

Either way, he's not around. Again. And the wind is piping up, again. The skies are darkening, again. And we are left on boat watch, again.

Out of all things we experience we can take a minute and see what we've learned, right? Our current setup of stowing our new Airis Kayaks, is a definite no go,



should midnight emergency procedures to call stations (this is "Dave Speak") be required and it's easy to see why.

The amount of chain he has out to be swinging this wildly is probably unmeasurable but that really isn't the point,



the point is that he didn't even realize he dragged. And we can't move even if we wanted to, as our anchor is... right underneath his boat. And here's hoping his anchor hasn't dragged on our chain that would weave quite a tangled mess on the ocean floor.

The photo really does not do it justice, but I could quite easily reach over and pat the cat in the cockpit.