Sailing Essentials Part III, for our little Spirit Leader
Crazy Kittiness == Comic Relief
[01:18] [Saturday, March 17, 2007]
Your closeness to the rest of the crew makes you a fine reflective caricature of the overall atmosphere. When we're feelin' lazy, you yawn like a little lion and lay about on your back. When we're prepping for adventure, you put your nose in just about everybody's business, begging with quiet mews to come along.
But when the going gets rough, you'd much rather return to your most basic instincts than settle to the task at hand. If someone leaves a roll of toilet paper lying around with their thoughts otherwise occupied, or the cat box smells a little too fresh, you're quick to remind everyone just where you stand on the important issues.
So the tissue paper roll is a clawed mess and the head has been newly decorated with soggy white tidbits. So the main salon reeks of your finest load's pungent aroma. How can anyone be mad at a face like yours?
Besides, they've all got more pressing matters to attend to.
Labels: sailing essentials
Hunkered Down
Hunting Caye
[00:46] []
A "cold" front has come in about 18 hours ahead of schedule. The wind howling through our standing rigging woke Brady. Mostly it's just wet, but even 20ish knots makes a lot of noise, and we're rolling quite a bit with just over a foot under our keel.
Oh, and there's lightning. No thunder, which means it's all out beyond the reef so far, but bright, strobe-white flashes in an otherwise black night have us alert despite the hour.
Drinkin' rum and coke; playing Galaga; hopin' it doesn't rain all day tomorrow!
Hunters and Gatherers
Hunting Caye
[22:08] [Thursday, March 15, 2007]
Wow!!
We buddied up with Sea Dragon last night on Ranguana over drinks. As soon as we saw her crew -- Captain Rick and his wife, Kathy -- we recognized them from the Rio! It is astounding how different boats look when they've pulled away from a dock; so much more beauty to behold of a vessel on open water.
Rick and Kathy are "chartering" a couple friends, Jeff and Nicky, through the week. This morning they raised the hook to sail for Hunting Caye, near which a sunken wreck against the reef is "snorkable." We followed lazily after we'd had our coffee and managed a fair sail for about an hour before the wind shifted/died.
A few hours of motoring through brilliant blue water finally brought us to Hunting Caye, a palmy island nestled against the reef, occupied by a Belize Coast Guard post. Oh, and a Belizean Fisheries Department: the Sapodilla range is now a marine reserve, extending over a pretty huge area. We can fish, fortunately, but we did pay a park fee of 10 USD/head and were reminded lobster is out of season. sigh.
At any rate, the place is flippin' gorgeous. The water visibility lets us scan below the surface -- from deck -- for a couple yards' radius around the boat. Star fish in abundance rest in the grass, small blotches of red, orange and yellow on an otherwise green-and-white bottom. We had fun swimming around the boat for a while, but the reef -- which we can see breaking from our anchorage right off the caye -- and its hidden ship wreck called us.
Sea Dragon led the way to the small cut in the reef between Hunting and Lime Cayes. We attempted to dink all the way over to the wreck, but the ocean swells somethin' crazy on the far side of the coral! Brady and I crested a swell big enough to obstruct our view, and as our bitty dink rolled down the back of this clear blue hill, he called over to the other dinghy,
"Dudes! Surf's up!"
Laughing, Rick nodded agreement. We decided to anchor the dinks closer to the cut and proceeded to "suit up." Brady put together the spear and handed me the fish stringer. One thing we've started doing more of since this trip became life instead of vacation is feeding ourselves. It is amazing how quickly your funds dwindle when you eat out -- it is, I think, equally amazing how much more fulfilling dinner can be when you have prepared it yourself.
Not to mention when you've caught it! A myriad of fish swam in and around the enormous metal frame -- now rusted and covered in coral -- of the ship wreck. Whole schools of tropical fish scurried to get away from us as we invaded their precious habitat. Red snappers peered from beneath bits of wreckage at us; yellow tails darted between gaps in the ship's frame.
It did not take long for the men to transition from explorers to hunters. Jeff and Brady each speared some little yellow tails within minutes. Trailing a dead fish on a string against my leg made me suddenly very aware of my vulnerability. I swam around for a few more minutes, trying to be a trooper, but I could feel the constant strain of swimming against the tide begin to take its toll. If a predator came upon me, already excited by the smell of blood and the floundering of dying fish ... Then what? **
I handed the dead fish over to Brady and took my time returning to the dink. Kath and Nicky had already decided dead/wounded fish in the water made snorkeling too intense; we ladies drip-dried while our men did their thing.
In the end, Brady caught 4 fish. He and Rick returned to the dinghies last, and we retired to our boats with our catch and an invite to dinner on Sea Dragon.
Which was delicious! Rick cooked up prolly the best snapper we've ever had, and we spent the evening in great company on a truly beautiful boat, which, as Brady put it, has really good energy.
It is always hard to return home from a larger boat and not feel rather cramped. Still, after a full day it was nice to be home, where we could make up the V-berth, turn out the lights and gaze at a sky full of stars right up until we were ready to pass out.
** Captain's Note: I should probably step in and say I would not even be using a stringer to drag our dead fish if I thought there was truly any danger. The predator activity where we snorkel is just about non-existent. The worst we've ever seen are big, ugly 'cudas staring at us from a distance. We never snorkel in poor visibility, either, so even if a shark or other predator too big/mean to just swim away from started comin' for our fish, we would know about it soon enough to ditch the dead meat and run away! I'm always vigilant about my surroundings while in the water, especially when spear fishing.
Splish Splash Kitty
Ranguana Caye
[20:03] [Wednesday, March 14, 2007]
It sure is nice to be sailing again!
We waited in Placencia through Monday for weather to settle down. Enjoyed a cero we caught on the trip from Punta Gorda for two nights; paid a brief visit to the Tipsy on Sunday to catch live music (heavy wind drove us anxiously back to the dink pier, from which we could keep an eye on the boat); provisioned ...
By Tuesday we decided the wind wasn't letting up. Coming from the east and heralding no nasty weather, it posed us no problems on our course to Ranguana Caye. Our biggest adventure along the way actually happened on Sea Dragon. They left for Ranguana a couple hours ahead of us, and as they neared the caye the two women on board noticed an odd disturbance on the water. The "disturbance" turned out to be five Spanish-speaking free divers (they wore masks and fins) who'd been separated from their boat! In 60 - 100ft of open water?!
Anyway, after unsuccessful hailing of the Belize Coast Guard, we dropped sails and followed Sea Dragon in search of the divers' misplaced barca. Sea Dragon met up with the boat after about 15 minutes, piloted by one man who seemed just to be waiting for his passengers' return. Oookaay ...
Relifted our canvas and continued toward Ranguana. The island is just one more among the hundreds of gems along the Barrier Reef. Crystal clear blue water; towering palms, which provide a fair wind break in an easterly blow; spongy white beaches ... We lazed about the boat yesterday evening and today.
The anchorage is a bit crowded with occupied Moorings charters, but we dropped the hook near Sueños -- familiar faces from Mario's -- and were quite comfy. Attempted to fish, snorkeled on and off, lay about in or out of the sun ... We have it so tough.
Our biggest worry these days is the welfare of our cat. Around midnight last night, I jolted awake at the SPLASH of something sizeable -- and close. Brady and I jumped from the V-berth calling for God, who did not respond, but whose collar bell tinkled with some movement. We found him after some frantic moments, huddled on the dodger, rather shaken up.
His wet hindquarters told us as much of the story as we need to know: he fell off the bow doing God knows what and in a wild feat of kittiness managed to haul himself back on deck before landing completely in the drink. We cannot be sure if his fall is due more to his own recklessness or to the roughness of wind and wave. This makes it difficult to determine how cautious we should be; how much of a control we should set on the cat when we are unable to keep a close watch on him.
Probably only time will tell. In the meantime, he has taken to spending a good deal of time in the cabin since his fall. Perhaps his brush with mortality has humbled him a little. Perhaps he is just spending the warm daylight hours in the shade. Perhaps it's time to give him swimming lessons.
