Scattered clouds, winds SE 8-10
06/10/2008, Man O’ War Cay

There are people who have written to me and asked about the snorkeling and diving in the Abacos and they have tried to remind me that the beauty of this part of the world is all under water. They are right. I can't argue that point. However, that isn't why I am here.

I have to go to work every day. Okay, sure, I am in paradise if you are a sailor and a diver, but the fact is that I must finish this book. I know people who live in some lovely places in the world, but they insist on placing their desks away from windows or distractions of any kind. Writing isn't easy in the best of circumstances, and most of us are quick to leave the project at hand for the slightest reason. I decided to come over here this summer to get away from the distractions of every day life and find a quiet anchorage where I could write. What I didn't think about is how much power my computer would require.

I am the sort of writer who likes to work for AT LEAST eight hours a day. I talk to myself and pace and search the Internet for details. Now, I am on a boat running my laptop through a 200 watt inverter and it is sucking my batteries dry. I have three solar panels and a wind generator and often I find myself having to shut down because my batteries are crying UNCLE. Normally, this just means that I should start the engine to charge the batteries, but recently I've had issues with my engine overheating.

I am not a mechanic. My eyes usually glaze over when sailor guys start talking about diesel engines. But, hey, I need the juice to write. Suddenly, solving this raw water flow issue has become the center of my writing existence. I was down bent over the engine for the last couple of days pulling off hoses, checking the raw water strainer, pulling off the water pump and looking at the impellor and examining the diagrams of the raw water system in my engine manual for hours. Now you have to realize that these were hours that I should have been writing, but I can't write if I don't have the amps.

Finally, I figured it out. The wingnut at the top of my raw water strainer was leaking water out and I figured if water was getting out - then air could be getting in and I fashioned a gasket out of some gasket material I had and presto - water was flowing, the engine was cooling, the batteries were charging and I could write.

It's a domino effect on boats, but once you find the root problem, the sense of accomplishment is as sweet as the rum drink you allow yourself to toast the cure.

Fair winds!

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Scattered Clouds. High: 82° F. Wind SE 15 mph.
06/05/2008, Marsh Harbor

Late on the 31st of May, hours before the first day of the 2008 hurricane season, the first tropical storm of the season was named: Arthur. I was at Manjack Cay where I had gone for the evening to celebrate getting off the Roberts Marine dock and finishing my business with George, and when I heard the news about Arthur on Saturday morning, I got to thinking about names.

Why do we name storms and boats and the like? Why do we anthropomorphize and turn these things into human-like characters with human names? While doing research for a book I am currently writing, I discovered a great archive of information about past hurricanes on the Weather Underground site at http://www.wunderground.com/hurricane/hurrarchive.asp. It's fun to check back and look at certain seasons and remember the characters of certain hurricanes. Remember Francis? Oh, yes, that was when I was in the condo for 3 days with no power when suddenly there was a knock at my door and the word was passed by flashlight - party in 306 and bring your own drinks. And Erin back in 1995? That was when Chip was born. And to everyone who was in South Florida in 1992, Andrew is a name we will not forget. We get to know these storms well when we live through them, but somehow by naming them, we give them personality and we give ourselves the sense that we can survive.

Now there are certain superstitions about boat names and one is that you are not supposed to change the name of a boat. I have simply never believed in this, so when I bought my boat in 2005, I promptly changed the name. For some time I had been dreaming of a boat named Talespinner. I've been making up stories and spinning tales since I was a little kid - okay, my parents sometimes called it lying - but after having been a sailing girlfriend, wife and mother, the name seemed to fit my dream of a boat that would take me to new adventures as a singlehander. And although I have lived aboard and sailed her a little bit, she never really came alive for me until this trip.

When I was tied to the Roberts Marine dock last week, waiting for George to come help me with my battery problems and watching all the juice drain out of my boat, I honestly began to think that my Talespinner was dying. I would talk to her and say, "Come on, girl, you'll make it through the night." I knew that in the morning, the sun would come out and the solar panels would start their magic and the lifeblood - electricity - would flow through her veins again. We had come to rely on one another and she most certainly took on a life and personality of her own.

Finally, George arrived, we solved the electrical problem and it didn't require new batteries (at that my checkbook sighed with relief) and we were off early on a Monday morning sailing through Whale Key passage with the solar panels pumping and the wind generator humming and we tacked our way towards Marsh Harbor - where George had recommended we (Talespinner and I) see another expert about the starter. It was a lovely sail that included sightings of both turtles and dolphins.

So now, here we are, anchored out in Marsh Harbor, thinking about another name. This one is Sonith Lockhardt of Abaco Electric Motors. It has been four days and I can't track him down. The winds have been blowing strong these last couple of days and Talespinner, now that she has developed this personality, seems to be trying to tell me something. She sails around on her anchor like a horse trying to get the bit in her teeth, ready to go. She's telling me to forget the experts and to count on her. She'll get me home, she's saying, and I think I can trust her. I think we'll look up the name of some starter guy when we get back to Florida.

Fair winds!

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