Tag Archives: #love

The East Coast of Florida and the Keys

When I last wrote we were anchored out at Cape Canaveral, Florida. We had ducked behind the bridge to the mainland in a heavy north east wind. That north, north east wind never left us and we had the wind at our backs for several weeks. I can only recall one day of traveling where we had beam seas for a few hours. This seems miraculous and we are incredibly grateful for this good fortune. Abundance, indeed.

Miami, Florida

The less easy side of the story is of course the time and distance we have to travel each day in order to stay within the calendar we had created for ourselves. Mainly, we hoped to reach our winter slip in Marathon on November, 1st. Planning our daily travels was a bit more complex due to navigating some of south Florida and the ICW’s most shallow waters. There is a stretch between Biscayne Bay (just south of Miami) all the way to Marathon, where even at mid to high tide, especially on a waxing and full moon, the depths are between 4 and 6 feet (for miles). We draw four feet before fuel and water so of course, this will cause concern. The good news is that the bottom is mostly sand, and there will be turtles, magnificent sea turtles.

The more we live a life traveling on the water, the more appreciative I have become for the energy the water offers us in return. Otherwise, I think this life might be too rigorous for us. I say out loud to the beautiful blue waters of south Florida, to the dolphins, manatees, turtles, seagulls, frigates, pelicans, flying fish, tarpons, rainbows, sun, moon, enormous clouds, the beautiful blue sky and more, “Thank you”. Thank you for placing so many miracles along our path and in this world. Each of them is life giving and life affirming. As we live in the moments we are in, both the stressful and the amazing ones, we simultaneously envision a safe harbor in our future and recognize the past will be past.

IRENE has been running like a dream since we replaced the inverter back in Westport, NY, and then her alternator in Holden Beach, NC. But, as we were waiting for the Atlantic Avenue draw bridge in Delray Beach, FL to head to the City Marina and a slip along the ICW, her bow thruster failed. I turned it on and we heard only, “click, click, click”. Kind of a worst case scenario for me at the helm with a big north wind, in a narrow body of water, turning 90 degrees into a 15 foot wide slip where the wind would be on our starboard beam. Fortunately, we read the wind right, had a hand with the lines on the dock, and were safely tied up without the use of the thruster. Extra heart palpitations not necessary, after all. A call to a local boat mechanic and an early evening house call diagnosed the issue was with the thruster’s switch. We will be ordering one and having that replaced once we are in Marathon. Silver lining, dinner that evening with David’s brother Bill and his husband Lee at the sweetest little art house in Delray Beach, Dada.

Little did we know that the windlass, which is the motor for our anchor chain and anchor, is somehow tied into the same switch system. We found this out at our next stop, an anchorage in Hollywood, FL, called South Lake. We were preparing to anchor when I turned on the windlass and hear the now notorious, “click, click, click” sound. This is an even bigger game changer for us as it means that until it can be repaired, David and I have to manually lower and raise our 45 pound anchor, and at least 100 feet of chain, each time we anchor out (which is most of the time). In an attempt to assuage my upset over these two events (yes, I cried) David reminded me multiple times, “This is how they did it in the old days”. Well my friends, while I do long for simplicity, I am not interested in suffering. My response was, “one more week of llittle boat on the prairie”.

Hollywood was a deep anchorage in approximately 28 feet of water, which is less than ideal to begin with however, pulling up that much chain from a muddy bottom was an enormous work out. Imagine how you feel after you rake a couple of acres of wet leaves. That was us. We opted for a longer day of travel after that to minimize the number of stops we would end up making before reaching Marathon. In fact, we made it all the way past past Fort Lauderdale, Miami and Key Biscayne, all in one day of travel. We anchored in the Key Biscayne National Park water off Elliot Key in 7 feet of water. It was beautiful however; that north wind blew hard all night and even though we were protected from waves and most of the wind, the anchor dug in exceptionally well. In the morning, we had a hell of a time pulling it out of the wet and compacted sand.

Based on our experience at Elliot Key, we opted for another longgggggger ass day of travel all the way to Islemorada. Islemorada is a town south of Key Largo that encompasses six of the northern Florida Keys and surrounding coral reefs. It’s beautiful, but its shallow waters and numerous crab pots make make navigating the area challenging. The distance traveled overall made it worth it because it meant we could drop the anchor in one place for three nights and save ourselves some of the struggles with the chain and the bottom of the sea. From Islemorada, only a five hour journey to Marathon. Only five hours yet, David said that last day of travel was among the most difficult of the entire 2000 miles of summer traveling for him. Tired and sore from pulling up the anchor, his eyes tired from watching for crab pots with the sun reflecting off the water, seeing the shallows become shallower then charted, and with the wind behind us on an 89 degree day (you can’t feel the wind when it’s directly behind you), it was definitely rough out there.

We persisted and we made it safely to Marathon. We docked Irene with no thruster and 15 miles an hour of wind pushing us off the dock. We didn’t exactly set an example for perfect docking under the circumstances, but we didn’t entirely suck either. What a joy to have the boat safely tied up, to feel the wind on our faces and to be offered a cold beer by an old friend. I write all of this from a place of deep gratitude and appreciation for all the blessings the universe has bestowed upon us and our travels. Not only for the end of our current travel, but for our entire journey.

Irene needs a good washing now (and seemingly always) to get the salt off her, but the miles are on David and me for ever. Since leaving Fort Meyers in April of 2021, we have traveled over 10,500 miles. We set out knowing that circumnavigating the US’ interconnected waterways would be at least 6,000 miles, but we would not have guessed that we would keep going from the Keys and return to our beloved Lake Champlain in Vermont, by boat, and then back again.

I am not exaggerating in the least when I quote James Joyce’s Ulysses: “Think you’re escaping and run into yourself. Longest way round is the shortest way home.” And the also famous line, “Me. And now me.” Both true for “me”. I suspect David may give a nod to a different line from that epic story, “The sea, the snotgreen sea, the scrotumtightening sea.” Haha. I remember reading Ulysses in school and thinking what an insanely exotic and giant tale it was, but it turns out it wasn’t a myth after all. It is alchemy bottled up in a perfect decanter, dispensing each of our stories, because to learn, one must be humble and life truly is “the greatest teacher”; and James Joyce was a fucking genius. We are home again. Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah.

The Power Behind Life

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It has been an intense time in this corner of the world as a major hurricane gained strength over the warm ocean waters and powered its way up the Gulf of Mexico, coming to shore at the exact place where David and I began our Great Loop journey and subsequently crossed our wake on December 4th, 2021; Cayo Costa, Florida. Hurricane Ian hit land with a wicked fierceness and a magnitude unparalleled in recent years. Arriving near high tide in the vast Charlotte Harbor (30 miles long by 12 miles wide), the strong winds pushed a near ocean of water into the bay and consequently up the three rivers that flow there; the Peace, Myakka, and Caloosahatchee. Thus causing immense damage across many communities along the shore and inland from the harbor. The level of destruction is immeasurable and many lives will be changed forever, and difficult, for a long time to come.

The marina in Fort Meyers where our adventures and life on IRENE began.

One of the couples we met during the Great Loop, and have stayed in touch with since, reside in Cape Coral, Florida. Their house was destroyed in the hurricane and their boat was spared by inches from coming up, over and off their floating dock. I reached out to them to express our love and received many messages in return. We ended up on the phone together discussing the current state of the waters around Cape Coral, Fort Meyers, Punta Gorda, and the rivers that flow into Charlotte Harbor. We talked too, because David and I are scheduled to be at the Fisherman’s Village Marina in Punta Gorda for November and December, so the safety and pass-ability of the waterways there is vital to any travel. What they shared was predictable and awful, none the less. They told us that most waterway markers are missing, blown off in the storm. They said the waters are black and it is impossible to see into the water therefore impossible to spot debris, sunken objects and such. They shared that throughout the water from south of Tampa past Fort Meyers and Naples, and in the ICW there are sunk and partially submerged cars, houses, boats, roadways, trees, and more. The entire area is considered a disaster area and the waterways are currently off limits to recreational boaters and travelers. There are still rescue operations happening and much of the area has only intermittent power, phone service and internet/data capacity. In other words, this year, we will not be able to go to Punta Gorda by water. We will be there in spirit and return again, we hope, in April of ‘23. Fingers crossed.

It occurred to me that in times of great difficulties, during experiences that diminish us, we pray for strength to endure what life has brought us. We don’t pray for “easy”. We focus on emerging from what has the potential to destroy us. We pray for strength to transcend what hurts us in order to help ourselves and others. As it is during times of great joy, the power behind that prayer, that space we are holding, is love. Love for yourself, love of life, love of other people; loving the moments as you live them. We come from love, we are love and we return to love.

By the time Hurricane Ian reached us here in Charleston, it had been knocked down to a category 1 hurricane. Winds ranged from 40 to 85 mph and were accompanied by very heavy rain and local flooding. We were very lucky. Thank you to the many of you who reached out to check on us. Thank you for your concern, your prayers, your thoughts, your love. We could feel the positive energy. We gathered up your light and pulled it in around us and it helped us to stay UPlifted and generate more good thoughts while we lived in the flow of not knowing how our boat would fair.

David and I had gone to prepare IRENE for the coming storm. We doubled up on her lines and secured anything that could “fly around” during the inevitable heavy seas and rocking and rolling on the dock. We did all that we could there. On the home front, we shopped for a few foods to prepare ahead and a few favorites to enjoy in the inevitable event we would lose power. Also, a big trip to the arts and crafts store for paint, charcoal pencils, new markers, ink, special paper and more. The best remedy to address anxiety is to prevent it through engagement, especially through DOing. DOing anything with the intention of consciously engaging in it. My theory here is that by DOing things we become fully present in the moment and the mind focuses on the moment you are in. Simple and effective. So, once our preparations were completed and we had many intentional conversations with the grandchildren about the coming storm, and fairly quickly, we got to happily and calmly, DOing things- Cooking, creating, reading and resting. Twenty-four hours later, IRENE weathered the storm beautifully (only the dock buckled). The house stood strong with minimal water inside from just one side door, after 8 hours, the power was restored, and behind it all, we remained calm, centered and loving.

My friend in South Dakota, Carol https://xinaallen.com/ Morgan, recently shared a personal story about something that is currently difficult and causing sadness within her own family. She reflected on some learning that occurred with her and her sister as they had been feeling badly about the situation. For those of us who have lived long enough and through enough “storms” this may be familiar, but it is always good to be reminded. The learning was essentially: it is important to acknowledge sad and/or heavy feelings as they come to us and to feel them in your heart. Keep them there inside your feeling heart, not in your mind, they’re not for your head; they aren’t there for analysis. After you have held them in your heart-space, release them, because when sadness and other heavy feelings are invited into our minds they bring exponential density that invites fear and suffering. All the “what ifs”, “should haves”, “I wishes”, and “he said she saids” are the stuff fear is made of- and fear erodes your peace and makes it impossible to rise UP and live life fully, joyfully. Not only during the difficult times, but especially during the difficult times.

In the meantime, I called our marina in Marathon, Marlin Bay, where we are already scheduled to stay from January 1st – April 1st, and I was told that miraculously, our slip was available for us in November and December. Since we are scheduled to leave here on Monday, October 10th, this was blessed news to us. And this nearly improbable outcome was just the beginning of a constellation of connected miracles. My next call was to move a departing flight to visit Anna in December, from the Fort Meyers airport to depart from Miami. Another miracle, seats available and in the end, I was assigned better seats and given a $200 credit. The next unexpected message was an invitation to fly directly from Miami to St. Kits in November for a few days at a villa with David’s sister Kathie and her husband Dan. An beautiful gift for us to explore a new place with people we love. New pathways to joy are opening for all of us. May everyone’s beloveds, friends, angels, guides, teachers and powers that be, surround you with as much grace and abundance as we are experiencing now.

PS: From Charleston

South Carolina

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On a chart, or on a map, borders look like lines. Fine lines that depict boundaries and “distinct” places. For some period of time, most days, I am looking at charts and then, I am looking up. Back and forth between the lines and the world. Throughout this process I get to observe from a place of neutrality and play a kind of discernment game as we travel. I look for things that make one side of the line observably different or unique; for signs that the lines demarcate something noticeable. Simultaneously, every place has energy so there are the nuanced frequencies, vibes if you will, for places we pass through and inhabit. Imagine a map where you see the border lines, the outlines of the towns, the rivers, creeks, waterways, roads, mountains, and bays. Now, imagine you can take a translucent page, where colors overlay the map and depending on the local energy; the chart or map gets a shade of this color or a shade of that color, all representing a myriad of frequencies. I am not sure if was born with a soul contract to a certain place however; I believe it is more likely that I was born with a soul contract to resonate at a certain octave, and those places light up the colors over the map, for me.

South Carolina has a vibe and an energy that is familiar to me now. Here begins the landscape and ecosystem of the low country. This is the third time I have traveled through the Intra Coastal Waterway (ICW) of South Carolina. On the chart, it does appear that when folks sat down to draw that border line, they said, “shallow sounds and big rivers to the north and all low country grasses, creeks and marshes to the south”. Very nice state. Pretty high and bright octave.

Night one in South Carolina: Calabash Creek. This is the third time we have anchored in this creek. It sits at the crossroads of North and South Carolina, as well as a significant ocean inlet at LIttle River and the ICW. This time, we had to anchor twice due a strong current there. Once our chain was fully extended, we were just a little too close to the channel for comfort, as there are many tour boats and fishing boats that leave Calabash for the ocean and pass by there. In other words, their wake will rock the boat, regardless of where you anchor, so farther off the channel is better (and safer).

The first city along the ICW in South Carolina is Myrtle Beach. It is miles of slow and no wake zones. It is densely populated. On a Sunday morning, this means there will be a lot of traffic on the water. Therefore, we decided to leave the creek at sunrise to try and avoid a slow freeway experience on the water. Myrtle Beach appears to be a place for land lovers.

South of Myrtle Beach, the ICW joins the Wachesaw River. The river introduces fresh water to the salt water until it is more fresh than brackish. This is a wide and lush river where the trees grow right up to the shore. You can see remnants of old docks and camps in remote places, Eagles and alligators hunt the fresh water areas. You could be anywhere in the world. Green on green and blue and gray. I really like everything about it, especially how you can often see and hear the ocean shore just beyond the low country grass line.

We spent four nights in the heart of the river, right on the ICW at the Wacca Wachee Marina at Mullins Inlet (north side of Pawleys Island). We had intended to stay two nights however; there were four days and nights of 100 degree weather and high humidity and we needed to remain plugged in for AC. It’s not good for a boat to get moisture inside it. The best air for a boat comes from sunshine and a breeze from the bow to the stern blowing freely through her. In the absence of that, AC is an ok remedy.

Turns out that four nights is a good amount of time to accomplish things. The heat does beg you to slow down and choose pace over total number of things completed. At any rate, here is a partial inventory of things we did when we weren’t laying low or melting:

We washed the salt off of IRENE and gave her decks a good scrub and the windows received the squeegee treatment.
We took the dingy down and cleaned the hull and scrubbed IRENE’s water line. This was serious work takes a lot of collaboration. IRENE is long and wide, AND she is tall. The deck to the waterline is at least 12 feet.
While we were doing the waterline we also sprayed all the places on the stainless where there was a hint of rust. Rinsed that all down later.
We filled our water tanks.
We did laundry, ate at the cute restaurant there and had an instacart delivery.
Rested. Wrote. Read. Watched tennis. Cooked some good food and had a near ton of fresh fruit.
Met some really nice people at the marina and a gem of a human at the laundry who gave me a ride across a busy intersection to a nail salon. Maybe they didn’t build sidewalks there so that people could meet their neighbors? I don’t know, but it was so nice to get a ride on hot day from a person who shined the same lovely and bright colors as the low country.

See ya later alligator 🐊 on the dock at Wicca Watchee!

On the fifth day, we moved. Our destination was to leave the river, cross Wynea Bay to the ICW as it passes through the Cape Romain National Preserve. It is an extraordinary place. This is the place that dolphins and egrets go to relax. On this particular day, we stopped after only 20 miles at the South Santee River and anchor at the first significant creek, Minim Creek, on the east side of the river. The wind was howling out of the east, but our anchor held fine and dolphins circled IRENE repeatedly to say hello and to welcome us. There were a lot of local fishermen as well, who for the most part, kept their distance and didn’t wake us too badly. The wind was spectacular for sleeping and we woke to a light rain and fog. It was also the first day of duck hunting in SC. Put that all together and we were happy to be back underway early.

A pod of dolphins came along with us for miles up the river.

Early mornings in the low country are spectacular and we were buoyed by the colors, the waves, the wind at our backs, and the rising tide. We made our way to a place we had never been before, Graham Creek. This is a deep creek all the way up to where it bends towards the ocean. Low country grasses and sparse trees block the waves from the ocean and from the ICW, so you get to see the creak opening to one side, the ocean to the other. You can feel the ocean winds, and you hear the ocean crashing, all in the absence of the boat rocking. We anchored in the middle of the creek, just before the bend, in 10 feet of water at mid tide. Everything was lovely until the wind died. It became too hot to be comfortable and rain was on the horizon. And did it ever rain! It was the heaviest rain David and I have ever experienced, including during hurricanes. We laid down and listened to the rain on the roof in a kind of disbelief that the clouds could hold that much water. After the rain, there was no wind, just humidity. OH- and a Kingfisher. He perched right on IRENE’s Bimini and sat majestically, for a long while. I have never been so close to a Kingfisher. For those few minutes, the heat was bearable.

This rainbow appeared in the morning as we were leaving the creek.

From Graham Creek we headed to the Isle of Palms Marina on Isle of Palms, right on the ICW. It was a beautiful cruise however; once there, I had to come to the dock two times as the tide was going out and the current was stronger than visible or imagined. You know the expression about landing a plane is like a controlled crash? Heading a 25,000 pound boat at a dock at 4 knots with the wind behind you and current on your beam is kind of like that until you stop going forward, which hopefully, is with your boat parallel at the dock. In this situation, I do positive self talk like an athlete and remind myself that “practice makes progress”. At any rate, the second time was the charm.

On the dock at Isle of Palms (that’s Goat Island on the other side of the ICW).

Isle of Palms was a beautiful stop for two days. We had a spot at the end of the dock, facing the ICW. From there we were able to watch boats, ferries, fisherman, kayakers, sunrises, and crows. Crows! I feel like it had been a long while since I have communed with the Crows. On this day, I was walking down the dock and the crows were landing above me; circling and landing. I stopped to observe them and in turn, they stopped to observe me. We watched each other. Like dolphins, Crows are telepathic. On this day, as we were preparing to depart again, they were asking me to take a higher perspective. I definitely appreciated their communication as I was feeling a little “blah” about preparing to move. They reminded me, in the most beautiful way, to embrace the transitions. Sometimes I forget this. Also, I appreciate that the crows found me interesting enough to be curious about and engaged in staring at me for a bit. One even allowed me to take his picture before I walked on.

One last crow perched on the fishing tower.

Our next stop, Charleston. 10 miles from Isle of Palms to the Cooper River Marina on the north east side of Charleston. That will be IRENE’s home base for the next month, before we begin heading souther again. David and I will spend a few nights one the boat, at the marina, before moving into the room over the garage at (son) Jay’s house in Mount Pleasant. As always, sending up hopeful prayers for a continued low activity hurricane season and another month filled with love.

Have a blessed month~~~

Burlington, Vermont

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Irene on the dock at the Burlington Harbor Marina. Sandwiched between the beautiful Adirondacks and the Green Mountains and surrounded by some very nice boats, people and water. Lucky us.

We could not have landed in a more beautiful spot if we had chosen it from a list of slips on the entire lake. As David’s son, Jay, was helping us get our Burlington reservation in order he asked, ”Would you rather be farther out or nearer the bathhouses”? We immediately said, ”Farther out”. When we pulled in past the marina’s breakwater, our slip was straight ahead in the second fairway. Blissfully spacious and no pelican poles! Ever grateful to Jay for his help making this stop happen and finding the most magical spot on the dock.

Beautiful docks at the Burlington Harbor Marina.

The Burlington Harbor Marina has done a phenomenal job of using high quality materials to build their docks and other structures. From the hardwood to the width, to the proper sized cleats, the docks are a dream. And it keeps getting better. We are feeling very fortunate to be here on the lake, at the gateway to the city, for a full two weeks. Far more scheduled and a lot more visitors then we have become accustomed to, but feeling very grateful for this time here, among family, friends and the beautiful natural world.

It’s been an inspiring two weeks in Burlington. We had the best visits and the best visitors. We were able to spend time with lots of family members and quite a few friends; so many of both that I’m not naming names because I might miss someone. If you’re reading this and we were able to spend time together, thank you. It was awesome and we love you.

A few highlights included- Going to a potluck and having a grown up overnight.
Hosting a little fourth of July spectacular on IRENE and watching fireworks just off her stern.
A friend picking us up to bring us to her home for a gourmet dinner (out of this world amazing).
David had a guys lunch with 8 of his high school classmates.
I got to go to a favorite restaurant, ate oysters and had a martini with one of the loves of my life.
We had a birthday celebration for three little loves who followed our adventures on the Great Loop.
I had the good fortune to spend time with one of the most intelligent and busy woman I know (talking ’bout you Dr. N.).
We had more than a few nights where we watched the sunset over the Adirondacks with a lot of our peeps.
All the siblings ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
Naturally, I was so busy enjoying all the moments I mostly neglected to take my phone out. Alas, only a few images to share here now.

On Monday we moved IRENE 50 miles south to Westport, NY. The marina there is pulling her out for a power wash, fresh bottom paint, new zincs, a new inverter, and a fresh coat of wax on her hull. From there we will enjoy a few anchorages on the southern end of Lake Champlain before we begin a slow journey south. We hope to spend time exploring the Chesapeake, the Outer Banks (weather permitting), and a few stops we weren’t able to check out on the way north. There may be a road trip or two to celebrate a few big events on the family horizon. We shall see…

Currently sitting in Emma’s apartment with a view of North Hero feeling incredibly grateful that I have the privilege of learning with a certain amount of ease, grace and abundance. Not taking anything for granted. Being me, doing what I do and reminding myself that we are all right where we need to be and again and again, asking myself to reflect on ”why it’s important”.

For a little context, one morning on the dock in Burlington, I was listening to a podcast about quantum physics and how even black holes can collide and explode. That seemed kind of odd to me, that black holes act like quantum particles but, they do (and they send out some big gravitational waves). At the same time as I was listening, I had been pondering a couple of issues that I felt needed to be addressed. A couple of 7’s on the 1-10 obstacle scale. Then it “hit” me- I’m just electrons and quarks too. Maybe the best way to open a new door in reality is to crash into the obstacles? So I get to thinking, if I intentionally go toward the things that keep me awake at night and keep at it in an unrelenting, loving and intentional way, maybe I can poke holes in them and those holes will make a wave and become like portals and will open up for me to move through them. I imagine that is kind of how free will works. It alters reality.

In summary- Burlington was a blast. We are all expanding. Intentionally directing our freewill opens new doors. PS: Remember the love. PSS: Olive turned three months old. Time may have some gravity, but love sure doesn’t.

Be the Ship

Observations from a life on the water.