Monday, March 20, 2006
Roaming
We wandered on the beaches and sailed off Georgetown. Just making dinners together and having coffee in the morning was a celebration. A wonderful visit.
Cat sailing
The land of rules and regulations
Cab 12
Exploring South
Exploring North
We left the George Town metropolis for a quieter world. At Black Cay Nick found that he was a expert sea bean collector and able to survive the dangers of scrambling on razor sharp rock cliffs. That was a good thing since the water below us was thickly populated with sea urchins. Just off our anchorage was a small cruiser resort, a couple of palm trees and a hammock made of a fishing net. Ah, living the good life.
In the water
Beach Time
Saturday, March 18, 2006
Outta regatta
Nick Arrives
Nick was held over in Fort Lauderdale for a night, but made it into George Town on Saturday. From the taxi it was a quick trip to begin life on the boat. He seemed to easily adapt to the small space, constant rocking movement, and complicated simple life. Now his shower was just a dive off the boat, his drinks came warm from the cooler, and the toilet needed supervision so that after use it would not flood and sink the boat.
On land in George Town
The signs into town are usually not at the water front, but one morning we walked down the main road and found the welcome not seen from shore.
In town we found the comforts of land life. This is Mom's Bakery. Twice a week, Mom brings in coconut bread and rum cakes, greeting the hordes of hungry boaters with hugs.
Sailors suffer from a common, but underdiagnosed condition called "Cussler Malaise", presenting with a blank stare, vague sense of nausea, and mental toper. Caused by reading a steady diet of mindless drivel, the most effective treatment is reading good books. George Town has responded to this need by allowing cruisers to get a library card and check out or trade books. It is next door to the school and this morning had a good part of the class on the porch.
Life in the George Town Harbor
There was plenty of room for us in the constantly shuffling city of boats. After several days we realized that we had given up traveling life on a sail boat for a small airstream in a busy trailer park. Our neighborhood was unpredictable. We could go to sleep in the French Canadian quarter and be back in America by the next afternoon without moving our boat. Friends on Oreneta, No Justice, and Twice in a Blue Moon would unexpectedly appear next door only to later disappear across the bay.
Welcome to Elizabeth Harbor
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