The crew seemed a little restless, having spent 48 hours fighting through a storm; then holed up for one night, waiting to be sure our fois gras wasn’t going bad; and another night, at what turned out to be an eerily quiet mooring field in Sopers Hole. Captain Frank had gained trust in my recommendations given the good experience he had at Nanny Cay and Sopers (both my suggestions) So he asked me where I thought we should go this day. I suggested we head back North towards Virgin Gorda where we had been detoured 2 days earlier. We could plan to make a stop at Salt Island to snorkel the Wreck of the Rhone, and be at Cooper Island by early afternoon for a swim and a cocktail at the Rum Bar. If he liked Cooper Island we could spend the night there, explaining that enroute, we could check out a couple other alternatives like stopping at Little Harbour for a morning snorkel an lunch, or get onto Peter Island Resort for lunch.
He agreed to the plan for the day and we had a busy day at all but Peter Island, The Rhone is a damn interesting wreck site but better viewed as a diver. Little HArbour was amazing, as usual. Probably my favorite overnight anchorage in the Virgin Islands. If your staying any length of time it demands a stern too anchorage with a shore line tie-off to minimize swing and maintain total privacy at the stern. Its really fun and peaceful, and when we arrived there were four large catamarans already anchored in exactly the manner described above…special thanks to Captain Stevan Rice (aka Fireball) for the introduction to this anchorage and the insight on how to execute the anchoring technique. For today we just dropped anchor in the center of the bay, as we weren’t planning to stay…and the Carbbean blue “pool” was open for swimming and snorkeling, and trust me it was out of this world, We saw and followed big sea turtles, identified maybe 15 different s\pecies of tropical fish, stirred up 3 rays, and recoiled at seeing one of the largest barracudas I’d ever seen, sitting once again right under our boat. That has happened to me now countless times….is there a reason for that? If so please let me know.
We finished snorkeling, enjoyed lunch on board and raised anchor heading for Cooper Island, We missed the lunch crowd and practically had the beach to ourselves. We relaxed, swam and snorkeled until the happy bell at 4PM and then jumped right into rum punches which were the perfect end to a perfect day. People began gathering and even Fran and Dominique seemed to be enjoying the social sailing atmosphere of the place. We ran into several cruisers we had met on Nanny Cay and soon Frank and Dominique joined right in with the Rum Punches. Not long after they suggested, iinstead of giving up our prime seats, why don’t we just have dinner here! We did, and about 9pm we made it back to the dinghy whereupon everyone tried again, with no luck to get wifi or some kind of service….no luck we were off the grid…actually it was good luck…and we all went to bed by 10!

Thought of the day: I like getting people involved in the planning and activities that it takes to celebration each day, slightly differently in this environment and I think I’m pretty good at it. I really could be a good social director on these cruises

Learning of the day: I learned how to make water with Franks on board water maker…pretty proud of myself. Now if I can make fire from water in a plastic bottle and sunshine, I could be on Naked and Scared or whatever that silly reality survival show is called… LOL.

We spent the night and most of the next day at Nanny Cay Marina, refueling, filling water tanks, using wifi, and most of the time waiting for a qualified mechanic to come check out the refrigeration, certifying we were ok to continue our gourmet cruise.
Nanny Cay Marina, is actually where the first leg of the Trans Atlantic Crossing (the ARC) I am going on, started out from, 3 days earlier on May 7th. Some of the boats joining that trip were still at the dock, getting ready to leave the next day. These were large slick racing catamarans, that could afford to give the rest of the ARC participants a three-day head start, and still get to Bermuda in plenty of time for the proposed May 17th departure for the Azores. I spoke to members of the crew from each of the boats, one was dark blue with white trim, named Slim, and the other identical vessel, was white with dark blue trim, named Coco de Mer.
They were planning their own race within a race, and figured they would leave the next day for what they expected to be a 4 ½ day trip to Bermuda…covering the same distance in 60% of the time, that ARC Organizers had allotted for the rest of the “sailors” to complete the first leg from BVI to Bermuda. I told them I was joining in Bermuda and they asked if I wanted a ride over, departing as part of their crew, the next day. A pretty exciting and tempting opportunity! I must say I seriously thought about it, but in the end, loyalty and intimidation won out (probably more the latter). I decided to dance with the one who brung me and stay with Haumana, being loyal to Frank and my commitment to crew with him till the 15th. In reality what probably put me on that high road and motivated that loyal decision was pure intimidation and fear. Though I’m sure I would have learned a lot on one of those racing boats, I was intimidated that once this professional crew of racers got a load of my (lack of) experience, at worst, they might have thrown me overboard as useless ballast; at best they would have thought me insane for planning to cross the ocean wth little or no sailing experience, on a smaller, less equipped craft than they were going on. The fear factor was not that they were probably right, I remain undaunted, what I feared was that I’d become the laughing stock of the ARC, when they began to tell their stories about how this old fart who has never sailed and couldn’t tell a jib from a jibe, joined them from BVI to Bermuda. Worse yet, he was actually getting on another boat with 5 people he didn’t know, to make the 2nd and 3rd leg to Azores and Portugal. Ahh hell…what do they know…I’ll see them in Portugal and I’ll be as salty as Christmas Eve baccala by then!
We passed refrigeration check point and by 1PM we had reset our course for the West End of Tortola arriving in Sopers Hole, about 330pm, where we would spend the night, close enough to another marina that we could rely on if for some reason the refrigeration encountered another glitch, or for that matter, if the expresso decided to act up LOL…we’re sailors dammit!

Thought of the Day: Am I really nuts doing this crossing? Hell no!..YOLO right?

Learning of the Day: Hemingway was right….there is hardly anything more worth doing, than messing around with boats. Even if that means hanging around in a marina with professional sailors for 24 hours.

The day before had been a pretty full day and we were all pretty tired. So Captain and crew agreed to give Dominique, Mother's Day evening off from cooking. We finished the day with dinner at Pusser's on Marina Key and stayed anchored there for the night. In the morning we noted that the winds were going to pick up after lunch. The beach at Pusser's Landing looked pretty inviting, so we had a leisurely breakfast and took the dinghy in to claim our spot (chairs) on the beach This all turned out to be a good idea, because, unbeknownst to us at the time, we were going to need the rest we got in the afternoon.
Around 1230pm we headed back to the boat. Dominique had prepared lunch and our plan was to get underway for a stop at Brandywine Beach and Roadtown Harbor. According to orecasted windspeeds picked up to about 15 knots around 1:15Pm coming from the Northwest. That would be perfect conditions for a leisurely but brisk broad reach sail south on the Sir Francis Drake Channel. We got underway with sails set and trimmed, as clouds began to accumulate far behind us in the vicinity of the Bitter End. Our 3 hour sail was perfectly planned to put us at Brandywine for a quick swim before heading into Roadtown for a night at the marina and dinner on board after a leisurely walk through the downtown area, where the cruise ships dock.
Best laid plans, right? As I've come to learn with sailing, plans are critical and nothing is more important than alternate plans. Because, your original plan is what you do until you need a new plan, and that happens about 80% of the time. Within 30 minutes, we noticed that those previously far off clouds were gaining speed, mass, and following us at a pace faster than on our leisurely 8 knots. We decided to head straight into Roadtown, the threat of rainstorm cancelling our planned swim at Brandywine Bay. Moments later Dominique, cleaning up from lunch, stopped what she was doing and scurried up to the bridge. Though I couldn't understand the language I sensed from the concern I hand mocould hear in her voice and the frantic movement of her arms that something was seriously wrong. She had apparently detected what in her's and Frank's book of sailing is probably the greatest potential disaster at sea...THE REFRIGERATION WAS OUT!
This need to remedy this high seas calamity, immediately superceded any thought of shore leave or excursions and necessitated a series of frantic calls to marinas in the area. A marina that might have somebody on hand to fix the problem, lest we lose what I 'm sure was thousands of dollars of carefully selected and stored larder. There is no doubt where the priorities lie for this Captain and his First mate. The gourmet meals we had been experiencing and that were still provisioned for, could not be put at risk. All focus now turned toward getting to a marina to fix refrigeration. I suggested Frank try Hodges Creek, where Dream Yachts is located, or Nanny Cay, a marina and boatyard I'd heard was excellent, from Jack Boye, the Captain of Pride (a boat I had looked at the year before we bought Serse). Nanny Cay was the answer, unfortunately it was about an hour and a half farther than our original planned course and the storm was bearing down, likely to outrun us to Nanny.
Everyone donned rain gear as winds picked up to 23 knots. We sheeted in to three reefs on the headsail and two on the main, but wind continued to increase and the rain looked about a half mile off. At 28 to 30 knots we rolled up the genoa; dropped the main to the third reef, started the engines and braced ourselves for a downpour...we were neither overly prepared nor disappointed! As an old business acquaintance from New Orleans, Jack Long (yes a relative of Huey Long) used to say, "it rained like a cow pissing on a flat rock", for an hour! We pulled into Nanny Cay with a very clean boat, some very wet, weary sailors and a dinghy that looked like a kids play pool, but guess what, we were smiling and had truly, weathered the storm. Moreover, there was the proverbial silver lining. Apparently, firing up and revving the engines as high as we did to try and get ahead of the storm, did something to increase the boats overall power source, because, as we docked, Dominique announced the refrigeration was now up and operating again...a veritable miracle at sea.

Thought of the Day: Luck at sea, often occurs at the intersection of dedicated preparation, intelligent planning and the ability to think out of the box, quickly...Good Luck at sea is knowing this and being comfortable with the idea that bad luck is a given

Learning of the day: Worked the VHF radio to a fair the well trying to locate a marina with a refrigeration mechanic on site.

Happy Mother’s Day! Hope all Mother’s reading this were made to feel loved and respected for all your selfless efforts that make life better for loved ones. I pray that all those of you who have Mom’s on earth or in heaven, somehow demonstrated your appreciation for them, in deed and/or in spirit. Remember, no one can ever love you like your Mom. They’re with us every day and always will be.
Sunday, as usual here in the very Christian Caribbean (practically every island is named St Something) is a quiet day. Most locals and families celebrate through worship, giving thanks spiritually, in church, and physically, at the magnificent beaches. We stuck to the latter, choosing to start at Guana Cay.
There are two beaches there that offer great snorkeling, one is quite large and tranquil. The other, is much smaller, and harder to get to, requiring a swim through currents, and a climb over rocks to get to the beach. There was little or no wind, so we motored to the first site and quickly jumped in to explore. Apparently this location hadn’t been drawing many visitors or fish lately. We’d heard the national parks commission noticed this and decided to sink a couple things on the sand, just off the coral, to attract more fish and promote growth. We soon located the chassis of an old car, and the frame of an old boat sitting on the bottom, and believe me it was working. I followed three different schools with no less than 200 fish in each, around and over these sunken “vehicles” for almost an hour. I wish I had my go-pro for this because I was surrounded, literally floating across three different color palate backdrops, that would have appeared like “wallpaper”; one of blue and purple, one of silver and yellow and the last of turquoise and red, the parrot fish variety.
After about 2 hours, the winds picked up and we were able to sail the 4 miles to the second site. We had a light, pleasant lunch break, of Mahi Mahi salad, and we were ready take on the more challenging site. Ana was not feeling very well so she could not join, but the rest of us jumped at the chance to navigate the currents so that we could get close enough to scale the rocks that lead to the beach. As you can imagine, there are beaches everywhere around these islands, that are much easier and frankly, much prettier than the one it had become our mission to set foot on. Why? Because it’s there…I don’t know, it just seems like when you’re here, and you learn of an “attraction” regardless of the effort, potential danger or the fact that there are more simple alternatives, the adventurous paths always seem to be the paths most often chosen. Hell…we’re pirates right? Who knows there might be treasure on that little beach that millions of people have already visited, it was up to us to find out…LOL!
So off we went on our expedition, which turned out to be a good way to spend two more hours, one time!. After procrastinating, I mean investigating, the surrounding area laden with a wide variety of colorful fish and monster like (but harmless) tarpon, we headed for the shallow coral and rocks that would lead us to the beach it was our mission to “discover”. To get there, one starts by navigating through reefs and strong currents, skimming the surface atop sharp corals, that lie, at times, inches below your ummm, sensitive body parts. Surviving that, you pull yourself across large, smooth slippery rocks, being sure to properly time the crashing waves, to get to the more jagged rocks you must gingerly climb up and over to arrive at the postage stamp size (albeit, beautiful) beach Shockingly, we were not the first to discover the beach. The good news is we didn’t have to search long for the treasure because skads of people from Ohio, Texas and Indiana who were already on the beach told us there wasn’t any! So we reversed our tracks back through the “fun house” like swim, again testing our mettle and stretching our physical skills to avoid injury and got safely back to the boat…as I said it’s an interesting way to spend two hours, ONCE!

Thought of the day: “Because it’s there”, or because “everyone else does it” are not sufficient reasons to do anything. I should have recalled that particularly on Mothers Day. Come on, show of hands…how many of you have heard this response from your Mom, when you said “everybody’s doing it!”. All together now…”Well if everyone else was jumping off a bridge, does that mean you would do that too?” Hmmm….guess so.

Learning of the day: Tarpon, though scary looking and often huge, don’t have teeth and can’t bite…

Virgin Gorda is a special place on the planet and Bitter End offers a great starting point to explore the island, when coming east from Anguilla or Anegada.. Located on the North Sound, something about this place just exudes casual elegance, comfort and softly whispers Welcome! This is my fourth visit. After a 10 ½ hour sail I was happy to heed the siren song like call of Bitter End Yacht Club (BEYC).
I’ve visited this place with close friends and relatives; spent New Year’s Eve here one year; saw the Mets lose the World Series another; and had my first Hobie Cat sail here. I even went to my first (hopefully not last), Charter season kickoff party here; the infamous Black Swan Party at the exclusive Costa Smeralda Yacht Club, where we adopted (some say kidnapped) a five-foot rubber swan which became of mascot for two weeks. BEYC has become a traditional stop on any trip to the BVI and arriving last night, I got a sense of familiarity, a home away from home feeling, that for me, is very comforting, when one is traveling for an extended period. We arrived just in time to witness the feeding of scores of 4 and 5 foot tarpon, that arrive, in pavlovian manner, at cocktail hour, for a feeding frenzy that provides a nightly public viewing spectacle at Saba Rock restaurant. The experience is a must for all visitors! We became part of the crowd for the feeding and a cocktail before retiring, exhausted from the long day sailing, to the boat for dinner and hopefully, a good night’s sleep.
That, I’m afraid was not going to be the case. The overcast sky that had been spitting rain on us all evening, erupted into a pretty nasty squall by 2AM, making sleep a challenge. The overcast sky and the potential for more squalls were still there in the morning, and unfortunately the mood on board seemed to reflected the weather, particularly between Frank and Dominique. Although Bitter End would have been a good, safe place to remain anchored, with plenty to do if foul weather persisted, Frank was not happy, and woke up ready to move. It appeared he and Dominique disagreed on that point and pretty much everything else as the day evolved. They were having one of those days that happens in every relationship, when nothing or anything one partner says or does seems to please or meet agreement with the other and visa versa. I can imagine how that could be more common when partners are living in such close quarter’s for long periods, simultaneously hosting and consistently being relied upon for answers, entertainment, feeding and caring by strangers on your boat home.
Suffice to say that both Frank and Dominique needed some alone time. That became more apparent as the day went on. We left Bitter End ostensibly, to explore other parts of Virgin Gorda. That would typically consist of places like the Bath’s, Leverick Bay, Neckar Island, Trellis Bay and Spanish town, to name a few. We started off in every direction with our host and hostess having somewhat heated debates (in French, remember) about how to spend the day. Four hours in, after dropping anchor in a non-descript bay for lunch, by 2PM we still had no firm destination or plan. Three things however were certain:
1. Frank and Dominique were not going to agree today, in French or any other language
2. We were going to need some provisions
3. We were going to need fuel
Frank knew I was somewhat familiar with Virgin Gorda. He asked my opinion of where we should go. Without hesitation I suggested the Baths and Spanish town. I was being selfish for my crewmates and myself and thoughtful about or host and hostess. I knew Ron and Ana wanted to see the Bath’s. For some reason, Frank wanted nothing to do with anchoring there and Dominique seemed disinterested. “The Bath’s” on Virgin Gorda is an amazing wonder of the Caribbean and a memorable hike through monstrous boulders and water, leading to a pristine beach, definitely a top visitor attraction. Unfortunately, Frank was not going for that today, much to Ana and Ron’s chagrin.
Recognizing that, I suggested to Frank that he consider a stop in Spanish Town. We could refuel at the marina, Dominique could provision at the fairly well stocked supermarket; Frank could get wifi at the dock bar; Ron and Ana could cab to the Bath’s (and selfishly) I could walk to Coco Maya, hangout, alone, at my favorite BVI bar/restaurant, and everyone could get what they needed, some alone time! Frank was all-in, It was done, we made for Spanish town, arrived by 3pm and everyone went their own way, agreeing to meet at the dinghy dock at 7PM. Upon returning to Haumana, Frank and Dominique, refreshed, reunite and ready to resume their gracious hosting duties, began preparing dinner. I declined dinner, faking an upset stomach, when in reality, I had snacked on ribs, coco maya roll and pork belly…yum!!
Thought of the day: Alone time is quite often a necessity. Being alone does not equate to being lonely.
Learning of the day: I learned how to work the watermaker, a critical task.

Awesome sail today. 10 hour passage in varying winds, all the way from Anguilla to Bitter End, on Virgin Gorda. Haumana really handles like a dream, and honestly, everything can be done flawlessly and automatically from the center console bridge. It took a while to get into a decent breeze but once we got 4 or 5 miles offshore the wind picked up and we were making between 6 and 9 nots all the way…75 miles worth to be exact!
Some might say that’s a little to fast for fishing, but buoyed by our nod to the fishing gods yesterday we went for it and this time mixed up the baits about every hour to see what worked…answer nothing for about 4 hours. About half way to Virgin Gorda I was getting frustrated by the amount of seaweed interfering with our lines. About every 30 minutes or so I was forced to reel in and clear the lures to get them below surface again. You could often see the lure bouncing across the combination of rolling waves and ships wake. I was hot, thirsty, frustrated and a bit dejected when I got up from my perch, fishing harness chafing my neck, to once again reel in the starboard line to clea seaweed, and maybe change bets, when WHAM, and Whiiiirrrrrr FISH ON! Frank slowed us slightly and joined me at the stern to fix the rod in my harness, and the fight was on. We were hopeful it was anything but a Barracuda and after about 10 minutes, Frank assured me it was a Mahi-Mahi..and that got everyone psyched, especially Dominique who claimed she loved Mah-Mahi and had prepared a special meal plan if we caught one. So now I had pressure not to lose dinner!
The fish didn’t put up much of a fight until it got closer to the boat...about 20 minutes later. I don’t know if they can hear or sense the end is near, but as she got within earshot of the engines she began fighting for her life. Frank gaffed her and we hauled her on board…a 25 pound multi-colored thing of beauty, thrashing about, and bloodying Dominique’s and Franks pristine deck. Non-plussed Frank roped the tail fin and hung her on the rail leading down to the sugar scoop steps. We made quick work of the bloodied deck, snapped some quick photos and minutes later Frank was in fishmonger mode, gutting, cleaning and bagging 15 1lb steaks of Mahi Mahi, 5 of which we put aside for dinner later that night. Within another 10 minutes we had lines back in the water. I’d like to say we were on a roll, but 4 hours later, we only had the one fish…bottom line is I think 7 to 8 knots is a little too fast for fishing.
That said we had a great day, Hauman performed beautifully, the fishing gods smiled on us ever so slightly, and the one fish we got, we cherished, and enjoyed with a special curried rice and leek vegetable side, that was spectacular. All in all I’d take a day like that anytime!
Thought of the day: Today was my first day at sea, completely out of sight of any land for nearly 7 hours. I’m beginning to get a feel for what the crossing may be like and I am glad I haven’t read any of the books I loaded on my kindle nor seen any of the movies I have on my computer. I think there will be time
Learning of the day….How to catch, clean, prepare and enjoy Mahi Mahi on board.