Log & Blog & Grog for all!

 

This page will occasionally update readers on our whereabouts, with some notes about what we've been doing. The entries are in reverse chronological order, with the most recent here at the top.

 

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Sunday, January 29, 2012
Las Salinas, Dominican Republic

For some time I've been planning to visit Cuba this winter and write about it. Cruising World magazine wants the proposed article. I believed that I, as an established freelance journalist and author, was automatically exempt from the US embargo that otherwise prohibits Americans from going to Cuba. However, I now find that my exemption is not automatic. I have to apply to the US Treasury Department for a "Specific License." Those tedious bureaucrats won't answer their phone or return calls, so this will have to be done by snail mail. From what I understand the process then takes them a couple of months. All this is to say I can't visit Cuba legally this season, and our government threatens to impound boats and levy six-figure fines if they catch American cruisers going illegally. Hail, land of the free.

As a legitimate freelance journalist I qualify for the Specific License to visit Cuba. I'll plod through the process this coming summer, sail to Cuba next winter, and write my article. Meanwhile, I've decided to spend the rest of this season (once I leave Hispañola) cruising the length of the Bahamas, south to north, ultimately winding up back at Silverheels' home-base boat yard in Green Cove Springs, Florida by April/May.

At the moment, Silverheels is the only cruising sailboat anchored in Las Salinas. For the past week the winter trade winds have blown hard, all day every day, 25-35 knots, building a chop, often white-capped, across this broad lagoon. You can bet it's a lot rougher outside. Fortunately, it quiets down in the evening and overnight. The village of Las Salinas is laid-back, friendly and safe. I've met an American ex-pat living here, a sun-bleached beachcomber around my own age. He tells me you can buy a house here for $20,000 US and retire very cheaply.

Been getting lots of boat chores done, and a little writing.

 

Wednesday, January 18, 2012
Boca Chica/Andres, Dominican Republic

Evening. I'm ready to move on at last! Most of the things that broke or leaked or otherwise malfunctioned on the way down here are fixed. The computer's nav program is working again, albeit marginally. I've printed out the harbor charts between here and Santiago de Cuba, just in case. The outboard's on the rail and the dinghy's in the davits, the cabin is stowed, the sail covers are off and the weather forecast is good. All I have to do is wake up in the morning and slip the mooring. I couldn't get the Marina de Guerra, the DR navy, to give me my despacho - Silverheels' clearance to sail - ahead of time, so with a couple of well-placed propinas (tips) I arranged to have it delivered to the boat on her mooring by the marina launch at 6 AM tomorrow. If they don't screw it up I'll be heading out by the dawn's early light.

I'm only sailing 30 nm down the coast tomorrow, to anchor overnight behind a reef off a small Dominican Republican town. Then another day sail to Las Salinas, where I might spend a few days or a week or whatever, depending. After that it's an 80-mile overnighter to uninhabited Isla Beata, and from a 24-hour sail to Ile à Vache, Haiti.

Sunday, January 07, 2012
Boca Chica/Andres, Dominican Republic

Silverheels swept through the Mona Passage, around Isla Saona at the SE corner of Hispañola, and made landfall in La Romana, Dominican Republic around 10 AM on Monday, January 2nd, 12 days and about 1,350 nautical miles from Jacksonville Inlet, Florida.  La Romana, just inside the small (river) Rio Dulce, turned out to be too tight & crowded with commercial vessels for anchoring and there was no dockage available, so we sailed another 35 n miles down the coast, westward to the next port of entry. That turned out to be an upscale marina between the towns of Andres and Boca Chica, DR, where we picked up a mooring just as the sun set and merrily toasted our successful voyage.

The next morning, after topping off diesel at the fuel dock, we took a slip in the marina. My first duty was to clear into the DR with Customs, Immigration and all the king's men, a tedious process made easier by friendly officials and the marina's facilities & staff. While I was dealing with that stuff, my crew pitched in cleaning up the boat, inflating the dinghy, doing laundry and so on, the usual chores after a long offshore passage. The day after, Wednesday the 4th, they left the boat to commence their own travels on land. I began working my way through the fix-it list that inevitably evolves during long passages. First the anchor windlass, which turned out simply to have some corroded connections (and I was thankful it was no worse than that!). Then the Shaft Lok; its internal locking pins need to be replaced, which means getting them sent down from the States. There were also some small mainsail repairs, a leak in the spray dodger top, and so on. Meanwhile I'm also straightening out my home a bit at a time in the wake of all that crew living aboard for the past 2½ weeks.

Silverheels and I remain in this harbor still, but moved back onto a mooring again yesterday. (The slip was an unnecessary and expensive luxury, fine for a few days but no more.)  I must now wait for the Shaft Lok parts to arrive via Fed Ex. Also (maybe) a friend might fly down to join me here. Not sure about her yet. Then Silverheels will be heading west to explore the south coasts of Dominican Republic, Haiti and Cuba.

 

Monday, December 26, 2011
Latitude 27° 12' N x Longitude 72° 27' W

Well, I finally have something to write about. 0540 hrs: Just a quick note from the Atlantic Ocean, about 500 nautical miles east of Florida and 800 nm yet to go to our destination in the Dominican Republic.  Silverheels is motoring through Horse Latitude calms, her crew asleep, the captain on watch, a million stars yielding to the first hints of dawn ahead. We left Jacksonville, Florida last Wednesday. So far we've beaten into fresh breezes, up to 25 knots and more, enjoyed some sweet reaches in milder conditions, and then motored & motor-sailed for the past couple of days, taking our time to conserve precious fuel. - a typical weather mix for an offshore passage above the trade winds.

We're a happy ship, my 20-something crew enthusiastic and helpful. Christmas at sea yesterday was fun, with a big brunch in the cockpit, some trinket gifts exchanged, and no Christmas carols whatsoever. Life is good.

 

Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Green Cove Springs, Florida

Silverheels gets re-launched (at long last!) tomorrow, after 2 months of hard labor, sprucing up and some cool upgrades in the boat yard. Another couple of weeks on a mooring here to finish up a few things and provision the boat. Then we're off for the Caribbean again; the Dominican Republic, Haiti, Cuba... After that, who knows? Updates when I've got something worth writing about.

 

Friday, September 30, 2011
Green Cove Springs, Florida

I returned to the boat late this afternoon after an awesome summer van-camping out west. At my request, the boat yard had already moved Silverheels a few days ago, from the long-term storage area into the work yard.  She appears to be in good shape overall (if somewhat forlorn) after my long absence, although rainwater found a way onto the port salon cushions, leaving a moldy mess to clean up. Oh, well, just one more thing to do to get the old girl ready for cruising again. Along those lines, I probably won't bother keeping up this log during the next month or two. Suffice it to say I'm busy with boat yard chores & projects, which I'll eventually post on the Projects Completed page.

 

Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Green Cove Springs, Florida

The boat yard travelift carried Silverheels to the long-term dry-dock storage area this afternoon, where we bedded her down for the summer. I've moved into my campervan and will soon head west to the National Forests of north-central Idaho and western Montana for a little mountain forest time. This logblog will resume when I return in the fall. Hasta luego!

 

Wednesday, May 04, 2011
Green Cove Springs, Florida

The boat has been on the hard (hauled out and dry-docked in the boat yard) for a couple of weeks now. I've done lots of work on her, much of it just prepping her for storage. Plenty of other projects going on simultaneously. Right now a local guy known as "Bottom Dave" is grinding Silverheels' bottom down to the gelcoat, an onerous task that I was happy to delegate. I'll let the boat's bottom dry out over the summer, then in the fall seal it with epoxy and new antifouling paint. Always something...

Hey, I bought a Volkswagen Westfalia pop-top campervan! Time to be a hippy again. Will be heading out west soon for the summer - from Silverheels to Silverwheels!

 

Saturday, April 09, 2011
Green Cove Springs, Florida

Silverheels arrived at Jacksonville, Florida last Sunday, April 3^rd, 17 days (with 2 stops) and 1,500 nautical miles (nm) out of Bocas del Toro, Panama; 1 week and about 1,100 nm out of Cayos Cajones. Overall it was one of the most pleasant passages I’ve ever made, thanks to mostly fair winds & weather and a good, compatible crew.

Now the crew’s gone and Silverheels and I have come full cycle, returning to Green Cove Springs Marina where I did the original 3-year refit on this good old ketch. We have sailed more than 5,000 nautical miles since we left here less than 2 years ago, and we intend to sail a good bit more before long. For now, though, it's time for a haul-out, some sprucing up, a few months break from the ocean (for Silverheels on the hard; for me in the Western mountain forests). I'll re-provision the boat in the fall for our next round of adventures together. 

We picked up a mooring here late Wednesday and received a warm welcome back from many old friends. Scheduled to haul out into the work yard on the 20^th.

 

Tuesday, March 29, 2011
20° 00’ N x 084° 34’ W

Much has happened since my last entry here. It’s now 0200 hrs (2:00 AM) and we’re under sail - genoa, staysail and reefed main - just 112 n. miles south of Cabo San Antonio, Cuba; 700 n. miles and many adventures NNW of Bocas del Toro, Panama  Silverheels is still on this sweet broad reach heading 340°M at 7+ kn. Wind ESE at 18 knots. Moderate seas, smooth sailing, a starry sky with a light haze. The North Star lies close off the starboard bow; the Southern Cross straight up astern. My crew is asleep belowdecks and all is well.

Silverheels’ crew for this passage includes Thomas Pinney (no relation to me), a retired US Navy captain and brilliant novelist, and Zack Donaldson, a 25-year-old commercial fisherman from Alaska. Together we set sail from Bocas del Toro at 2 AM on March 17^th, St. Patrick’s Day. Since then we’ve stopped twice at remote, reef-bound islands far off the Honduras coast; 3 days each at Cayos de Albuquerque and Cayos Cajones (a.k.a. The Hobbies). These islands see few visitors and feel more like the South Seas than the Caribbean. We befriended some of the native fishermen that camp there, enjoying their fine camaraderie and the world’s freshest seafood.

 

Sunday, February 27, 2011
Bocas del Toro, Panama

Silverheels and I are still in the Bocas del Toro archipelago - 6 months since August! That's got to be a cruising record for me, but this is an easy place to stay. I've seen a lot, sailed a little, and made some new friends. Life is good. However, I don't want to spend the summer here. I got a taste of that oppressive heat and humidity when I first arrived and it was enough.

I've decided to sail back to my favorite boat yard, Green Cove Springs, on the St. John's River in Florida, there to dry-dock the boat. The plan is to buy another campervan or small RV, strap on a mountain bike and maybe a kayak, and spend the summer in the Northwest mountains, in those vast National Forests that are a second home to me. Next fall I have it in mind to re-launch Silverheels and sail her down through the Bahamas to Cuba, whose south coast looks like some of the last unspoiled cruising grounds in the Caribbean. We'll see.

Meanwhile, I've been writing a lot of sailing articles for magazines like Blue Water Sailing, SAIL, Cruising World and Cruising Helmsman (Australia). It's fun to do and gratifying to be paid for it.

At this writing, I'm still looking for one more crewmember for the sail from Panama to Jacksonville, Florida, an offshore passage of about 1500 n. miles. It should take 11 or 12 (around the clock) sailing days - we'll have a 3-knot push from the Gulf Stream soon after rounding western Cuba - but still, figure 3 weeks total with pre-departure stuff, stops, weather, etc. Aiming to set sail on Thursday, the 17th, weather and the Universe permitting. I expect to be unreachable from then until we arrive in Jacksonville.

Offshore, 2 crew and myself will stand watches around the clock. I'm planning to break up the trip with 2 or 3 overnight stops during the first part of the voyage, at isolated, seldom-visited little reef islands along the way. Each promises reasonably protected anchorages and crystal clear Caribbean waters, perfect for a good night's sleep, great snorkeling and maybe some fresh fish for dinner. Barring unforeseen circumstances, we won't clear in to any countries before reaching the US.

Lots to do now to get ready. Boat chores, provisioning and so on.

 

Saturday, December 04, 2010
Bocas del Toro Archipelago, Panama

I weighed anchor and sailed from the anchorage off Bocas Marina eight days ago in company with my buddy, Ray Jason, aboard his sloop Aventura. Ray has cruised these waters quite a bit during the past 5 years and knows them well. On the other hand, this was my first sail in the archipelago since arriving here in August. In fact, it was my first sail of any kind in more than 3 months! And a fine one it was, too, with 12-18 knots on the starboard quarter, Silverheels scooting along happily under full sail. It felt great to be underway, even if only for a day sail. We headed more or less south for a couple of hours, running down the coast of Isla Cristobal to a zigzag pass opening into Palos Lagoon. Along the way we passed widely scattered native huts and expat homes and one Ngobe Indian village. Finally, Ray led me through a tricky channel into an anchorage off the popular back-country restaurant, Rana Azul ("Blue Frog") where our boats have remained this entire week.

While the boats have stayed put, we have not. A friend who lives nearby has been taking us out in his fast panga every other day or so, giving us a grand tour of this area locally known as "The Darklands." We've visited a few natives and numerous expats, and waved to dozens of Indios in their dugout cayucos. I have learned a lot about homesteading here, been to the big mainland town of Almirante for supplies, dined at Ron's house and (this evening) at another Gringo home, and partied a few times at Rana Azul where I've met many more of the Darklands expats.

Thanks to an open wifi signal from Rana Azul I have functional Internet on board. So, as remote as this place is, I'm in touch with the outside world. I sold several articles to Blue Water Sailing magazine this week, which are slated to appear in issues beginning in February. Cruising World magazine will also publish one of my pieces in their upcoming January issue, and SAIL is considering one or two. Meanwhile, there are the daily boat chores and other things going on. I've not had much quiet time, but I'm sure not complaining. 

I've already seen numerous exotic birds in the thick foliage along the shore and heard raucous howler monkeys more than once. Tomorrow morning I'm going for a hike in the hilly rain forest that half-surrounds this anchorage. I anticipate seeing some of the brightly colored little frogs along the trail to the high ridge, including the Rana Azul for which my friends' restaurant is named. I hope not to see any of the seriously venomous snakes common to this region. Pit vipers are responsible for most of Panama's snakebites. These include the fer-de-lance, the smaller but more aggressive patoca, and Panama's largest venomous snake, the bushmaster.

I see on the US weather map it's freezing up in the northern States and even snowing in some of them. Yikes! We had some torrential rainfall here a few days ago, but the sun's out now and I'm shirtless in a pair of shorts. I do prefer this version of winter weather.

 

Friday, November 12, 2010
Bocas del Toro, Panama

It’s been 2 months since my 3-week visit Stateside. Silverheels and I continue to occupy a slip in a marina, a rare treat since we usually live at anchor. Bocas Yacht Club and Marina would be considered a clean, modern, upscale facility even in the United States. Down here in Bananaland it’s downright elegant. Still, all my neighbors, the marina owner and managers, even the couple that owns & operates the Calypso Cantina here are all liveaboard cruising sailors, and the anchorage just off the marina is home to another dozen sea gypsies. So I have plenty of kindred spirits for company. I've made quite a few happy acquaintances and a few new friends.

Bocas Town remains as I described it in my previous logblog entry below. Going there for the weekly grocery run is always a treat. It’s only a 5-minute dingy ride across the channel and around the bend to the dinghy dock at The Pirate restaurant, which faces onto the main street. 

I've made several excursions to other parts of the Bocas del Toro archipelago in pangas. Pangas are large skiffs powered by outboard motors, the primary mode of public transportation here. One outing with a group of friends included some snorkeling and lunch at a back-country restaurant/pub some miles from here. “La Rana Azul (the Blue Frog),” a funky mom & pop establishment locally famous for its mojitos and earthen oven pizzas, is accessible only by boat. There are no roads in what some expats jokingly call “the Darklands.”

On two other excursions with a local expat house builder friend, I got to inspect some homes he’s constructing on a nearby island. He builds entirely with local hardwoods naturally impervious to insects and rot. Each of the 2,000-to-6,000 sq. ft. residences is unique; all are raised on pilings and at least partially open-sided to let in the cooling breeze and the beauty of the surrounding rain forest. It’s elegant, affordable jungle living. There are quite a few gringo expats scattered around the archipelago enjoying that lifestyle.

The rest of my time I share between various boat maintenance & improvement projects, which I still mostly enjoy doing, and writing. I’ve recently sold articles to Cruising World, SAIL and Blue Water Sailing magazines, and have even resumed work on my pulp fiction book.  

I'm planning to leave this lovely marina next week to once again live at anchor. It's not only good for the cruising budget, but also good for the soul to be "outside," surrounded by clear water and views of distant, forest-clad mountains. It'll also encourage me to actually do some sailing, which I have not done since arriving here 3 months ago. Sure hope I remember how.

Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Bocas del Toro, Panama

My arrival in Bocas del Toro two days ago marked the end of a piecemeal 1,500-mile passage from Grenada, West Indies, across the southern Caribbean by way of Curacao, Colombia, the San Blas Islands, and the Rio Chagres, a jungle river that winds into the coastal rain forest near the Panama Canal. Once the haunt of pirates and Spanish galleons, Rio Chagres today is dominated by boisterous howler monkeys and exotic birds in the forest canopy, venomous snakes in the undergrowth, bright green parrots fluttering across the open water and crocodiles lurking along the shadowy banks. I loved it there and look forward to a longer visit in the not-too-distant future.

Bocas del Toro on the northwest coast of Panama is another world altogether, a lively community sprawled across an archipelago of small islands. The cultural hub, Bocas Town, has the weathered wood feel of a frontier town, with a broad main street used more by pedestrians than automobiles, lined with small, well-stocked grocery and hardware stores, colorful, inexpensive inns and hostels, handicraft stalls, vegetable stands, hippie eateries, an excellent bakery, funky waterfront bars, ‘tipico’ restaurants, assorted houses & shacks, a pharmacy and a bank, the whole peopled by a cheerful blend of Creoles, cruising sailors, Chinese immigrants, small-town Panamanians, gringo surfers, Ngobe Indians, European backpackers, West Indians, Anglo expats and other assorted backwater characters straight out of a Jimmy Buffet ballad. Life here is never dull, but always relaxed and affordable.

My first afternoon ashore I wandered into a back porch jam session, a couple of old men playing guitars and singing traditional songs from as far north as Mexico. The guitars passed around to other musicians. Soon they had me playing along, and then performing my calypso repertoire for them, encouraging me with cold Balboa beers and occasional harmonies and Latino guitar riffs. The water taxi guys on the adjacent dock tapped their feet to the rhythms and smiled a lot. What a sweet welcome to a new landfall!

I moved Silverheels into a beautiful marina across the channel from Bocas Town, where she will feel safe and secure while I fly north to visit family in the States a week from now. I really look forward to that visit, but already I can hardly wait to get back.

 

Sunday, August 1, 2010
Holandes Cays, San Blas Islands

It’s less than 200 nautical miles from Cholon Bay, Colombia to the San Blas Islands in Panama. The route lies offshore, but so briefly that it feels more like a coastal passage, which is more demanding. In part that’s because it normally takes a few days for my body & soul to find their seagoing rhythm, to settle into that solitary world of waves and weather, routine chores and sudden crisis, and (especially for a single-hander) abnormal sleep patterns. On a short crossing like this there isn’t time to make the full adjustment. So in less than 24 hours I was fatigued, and by the time I made my landfall I was genuinely sleep-deprived. 

Some of that lack of sleep was due to traffic. The first hours leaving a coast and the final hours arriving at one often produce small fishing boats, sometimes whole fleets of them, plus maybe a few local yachts. If you’re anywhere near a shipping port, figure on adding some ships to the mix. It’s a recipe for busy, attentive watches with precious little rest time in between.

On this trip Silverheels and I transited shipping lanes serving several commercial Colombian ports: Barraquilla and Cartagena astern, and Turbo far off to port in the Uraba Gulf. In addition, we were headed for the San Blas Islands, which are just east of the Panama Canal, one of the busiest shipping convergence zones in the world. So we encountered numerous freighters, nearly a dozen the first night alone, several of which clearly wanted to occupy the same space at the same time as my diminutive ketch. Those I had to dodge to keep from being run down.

Silverheels and I made this passage in company with another sailboat skippered by another single-hander, my friend Ray Jason aboard his 30’ sloop, Aventura. The great advantage of buddy-boating with another experienced sea captain is that we were able to alternate watches, each keeping an eye out for both boats while the other skipper slept. This did permit some hours of sound sleep, but not many. When ships weren’t threatening us, rainsqualls kept us both awake and on our toes. 

I don't mean to make this sound like a rough trip. It wasn’t, really. Just tiring. If you've been reading this travel log you know I sometimes use it to vent my frustrations at the little glitches here in paradise.

We emerged from a particularly heavy downpour just as dawn was breaking. Ray turned in aboard Aventura. Red-eyed but content, I stood alone on Silverheels’ foredeck to greet a new day and a new continent. The mountains of Panama appeared above the horizon ahead, misty silhouettes in the dawn’s early light. Just then about a dozen small, joyful dolphins found us and romped in our bow wave for a long time, the largest of the group occasionally leaping into the air and landing with a loud belly-flop. (Oh, Lord, please let me come back as a dolphin for my next incarnation!)

We arrived at the East Holandes Cays, outermost of the San Blas Islands, by mid-morning and picked out way through coral reefs and past palm clad islets into the protected lagoon. Sails and anchors were lowered and soon I was down, too, napping in my blissfully motionless boat. But not before diving into the crystal clear water for a long, cool, well-earned swim.  

Friday, July 23, 2010
Cholon Bay, Colombia

Silverheels and I spent a little over a month in Cartagena. Not too bad a place ashore as cities go, but the harbor water is filthy brown, often bouncy with boat wakes, over-lit, noisy and at times downright scary in the violent thunder storms that charge through every other day during the rainy season. Patrolling police boats and a huge navy base keep the coastal pirates at bay, but dinghy theft remains an ever present threat. 

Needless to say, I was delighted to finally see all that slip astern yesterday morning. We only sailed 20 miles down the coast, but the contrast could hardly be more dramatic. Cholon is an idyllic little bay entirely surrounded by green shoreline and overlapping mangrove islands. Tropical birds make cameo appearances and a couple of peacocks on shore squawk every once in a while, sometimes answered by a braying donkey. While there are a score of private homes scattered around, mostly belonging to wealthy Colombians, they tend to be elegantly unobtrusive; of modest size and tastefully designed to blend in with the terrain. The seawater is clean, though green-tinted from the mangroves. 

There are about a dozen other cruising sailboats anchored here, widely spaced in the eastern end of the bay. Cholon could accommodate many times that number, but a dozen seems like just enough. At the core of our little anchorage is a big old shrimp trawler brought here by an ex-LA cop who built a house up on the ridge years ago. The trawler, named "Manatee," serves as the cruisers' social center and features a laid-back, friendly happy hour a few evenings a week. 

I've found the cruising boats and sailors who make it to Colombia much more to my liking than the yuppified yachties that favor the Lesser Antilles - with a few notable of exceptions on both sides. Those that get this far tend to be more adventurous, individualistic, easy-going and down-to-earth; more sun bleached and sociable. For a while back in the eastern Caribbean I was worried that what I call cruising sailors was a nearly extinct breed. Instead I'm finding that I just had to go farther to catch up with them than used to be the case. 

As alluring as Cholon is, I don't expect to stay here long. The San Blas Islands  beckon and I may have to hurry on to Bocas del Toro (Panama). There I can safely leave Silverheels and fly to the States in about a month for a family event. 

 

Monday, June 14, 2010
Cartagena, Colombia

Silverheels and I arrived in Cartagena, Colombia (South America) last Friday late afternoon after a blessedly eventless 1,000-mile passage from Grenada. Along the way we stopped over for 5 days at the island of Curacao (Netherlands Antilles). Sadly, I felt compelled to avoid Venezuela altogether due to the frequent pirate attacks on sailboats in those waters of late. I spent many happy months there aboard my last cruising boat, Sparrow, back in the late '80's and would have gladly returned with Silverheels for a long visit now but for the very real danger of being boarded, robbed and possibly shot. What a shame! The vast majority of Venezuelans are friendly, warm and welcoming. Unfortunately, because of their screwed up government leadership (or lack thereof) and a handful of armed desperados on fast motorboats, cruising sailors like me are staying away.  

This little voyage was comprised of two 3-day hops, with the Curacao layover roughly mid-way. It being a near-offshore route across the southern Caribbean, I anticipated lots of freighter traffic. To help stand around-the-clock watches (because ships sometimes don't) I took along a young French couple I found in Grenada. These two 20-something backpackers are hitchhiking their way around the world. They turned out to be bland, self-absorbed, sloppy (by my standards) and of little use as crew. They had no interest in, let alone knowledge of, sailing, being only interested in a "cheap" ride to their next destination. To their credit, they would perform specific tasks when asked, and they stood their watches and woke me when freighters came too close. So their presence served some useful purpose. Our parting was not unfriendly, but I was glad to be rid of them as soon as we arrived and I'd be loathe to take on young backpackers again as crew lest they really knew how to help sail a boat... and liked it.

The passage itself was often dream-like. Sailing downwind is so much more pleasant than most other points of sail, especially offshore. Even so, when the trade winds piped up to 25+ knots and the following seas grew to maybe 10' it did get rolly on board, Silverheels rocking dramatically side to side as she scooted along at 6-8 knots. The wind finally died out on the home stretch and I was forced to motor across a flat sea the last night & day. 

So, here I am in Latino Land, a different culture altogether from the West Indians I just left. From what I've seen of Cartagena so far it is a booming, affluent, relatively safe city. It boasts a quaint, attractive 'old town' area that is the main attraction here for foreign tourists. Otherwise, it seems like a miniature Miami with its many modern high-rise apartment buildings and trendy middle class locals. Not really my kind of place, but I'm committed to staying for a couple of weeks at least. An old friend, now sailing his sloop down from Florida, is due here within the week for a planned rendezvous. We'll do a little hell-raising together here before carrying on to Panama. 

 

Friday, May 28, 2010
Grenada

After 3+ happy months in Grenada I plan to set sail again this coming Monday. Silverheels and I are heading west towards Panama by way of Curacao and Cartagena (Colombia). A young French couple will crew with me as far as Colombia, where I expect to rendezvous with a pal of mine. He just cast off from Key West yesterday aboard his 30' sloop, bound for the Windward Passage and then south. We'll have some fun in Cartagena, by all reports an attractive, friendly city used to cruising sailors. Whenever that gets old I'll continue on to Panama - the San Blas islands and Bocas del Toro - for the rest of the hurricane season. My entire route lies south of the hurricane belt. It'll be nice not having to worry about those nasty mothers this year.

I hiked up to a favorite waterfall the other day, to say my farewell to Grenada. No sign of another human being, not even a cigarette butt. It might've been the day after Creation. Ate some mangoes I'd picked up along the trail, smoked a bit of nature's herb, went skinny-dipping under the cascade...  Ain't life a bitch?

 

Monday, March 29, 2010
Grenada

I wrote an article about Grenada last time I was here, which appeared in Cruising World magazine. Now, 17 years later, I find that while this island has shared in the development and tourist boom that has so effected the Lesser Antilles, Grenada has not lost its essential friendliness and charm. It and Martinique/Guadeloupe are still my easy favorites of all the West Indies. 

Silverheels and I have based ourselves in the Hog Island anchorage, a pretty, sheltered harbor about half way along Grenada's south coast. To date there is no development at all around this cove, a rare find for an eastern Caribbean cruiser these days. Sadly, though, and I suppose inevitably, that's all going to change soon. Some mega hotel conglomerate - Four Ambassadors, I think - has plans in place to bury beautiful Hog Island under ten thousand tons of concrete, steel and glass to create yet another grotesque tropical tourist Mecca. I'll bet the assholes even change the name to something more marketable, like Brandywine Isle. (Oy!) Fortunately for us humans, their development plans are on hold pending who knows what and Hog Island survives a little longer in its natural state. No one expects this blessed hiatus to last, though. It's only a matter of time until the monsters descend, armed to the teeth with heavy machinery, big bank loans and their trademark insatiable greed, to destroy one more piece of paradise - perhaps the last piece - in the name of Progress and Profit. 

Geez, here I am ranting again. Sorry, but I still get pissed off every time I see it happen. You'd think I'd have learned to accept it by now. Not!

For the time being, anyway, uninhabited Hog Island, with it's perfect little white sand beaches and green, rolling hills, is a lovely playground for anyone with a boat to get there. It's also a gathering place for cruisers every Sunday afternoon when a local entrepreneur, Roger, puts on his weekly barbecue beach party, complete with $2 beers and a live reggae band. It's a lot of fun and a chance for us liveaboards to meet each other and socialize. I remember Roger's "bar", a Gilligan's Island kind of driftwood and palm thatch shelter, from my last visit here in 1993. It's a little bigger now, but still looks like it belongs. Rough wood benches & some tables, a couple of hammocks and a rope swing complete the decor. 

Roger's is also a hangout for locals from the village of Woburn, less than a mile away by boat. These young and not so young natives, many of them sporting dreadlocks, come over in brightly painted wood skiffs with outboard motors and pass spliffs among themselves while us white cruisers drink our cold beers. Still, everyone sings and dances together when the band gets going. Peace, mon. Love, mon. Every'ting cool, mon. 

 

Tuesday, March 02. 2010
Grenada

We've arrived. More later.

Sunday, February 28, 2010
Carriacou, Grenada Grenadines

Regarding my rant below, things did perk up once I got to Carriacou. This happy little island still exudes much of the old West Indian charm I've been seeking (and missing). I attribute this largely to a scarcity of tourists, very few charter boats, and no cruise ships at all. As a result the residents remain casual, friendly and welcoming. No hustle, no hassle, no problem, mon. What a treat! 

 

Monday, February 22, 2010
Mayreau, St. Vincent Grenadines

This evening I'm nursing a bottle of rum and a case of the blues, anchored in beautiful Salt Whistle Bay on the island of Mayreau in the Tobago Cays. I remember anchoring my last cruising boat, Sparrow, in this idyllic cove 20-odd years ago in complete solitude. Tonight Silverheels is boxed in by two-dozen charter boats, mostly big, obnoxious, plastic catamarans full of noisy tourists, and I am disgusted. It's time to face the sad truth, that the Lesser Antilles I remember are no more, replaced now by an overcrowded, over-regulated, avaricious, homogenized playground for charter boats and seasonal cruisers, and they are legion!

So here I sit half drunk and totally bummed. Grenada, my last West Indian hope of refuge, is just 30 miles from here and I can no longer reasonably expect it to be much different from what I've seen so far on this voyage of rediscovery. I'll know soon enough.

This will never do. I need someplace to go with this boat of mine. Yo hablo Español, gracias al Diós, and so America Latina seems like the only possibility remaining in this hemisphere. So, where to go? Venezuela can be downright dangerous for gringos now. Brazilians speak Portuguese, which I do not, and anyway the current runs north from Brazil. Except for the Galapagos, which I visited just a few years ago, the Pacific coast of South America isn't very interesting until you get to Chile. That leaves Columbia and Central America, from Panama to Belize inclusive, to reconsider. That can't be as spoiled as the Lesser Antilles. The "language barrier" alone must surely keep most of these fat, pink gringo charterers away, don't you think?

It's either that or the South Pacific, and I'm not sure I'm ready to sail that far, not single-handed. I could, and Silverheels could, too. I just don't think I want to. I've visited Hawaii, Tahiti, Moorea, New Zealand and Bali by air and land and while there's much to be said for all of them, I don't feel like they're worth all those offshore miles to see again. And yet, the rest of the Pacific may well be the last refuge for sea gypsies like me simply because there's so much of it. The damned Moorings charter company can't be everywhere, can they? Where can a sailor go in this age of charter mania and f__king ARC rallies and yuppie yachts trans-shipped seasonally by carrier barge? Where's the adventure in paradise?

Well, I’m just venting. The world will surely look brighter tomorrow. Somewhere.

 

Wednesday, February 17, 2010  
Bequia, St. Vincent Grenadines

Silverheels really kicked up her heels on the 20-mile hop from Martinique to St. Lucia, beam-reaching across 15-20-25 knot trade winds under full sail: 135% genoa, yankee staysail, main & mizzen. It’s the first time we’ve had such ideal conditions since I started cruising last June, and friends, I'm here to tell you this boat can fly! At first I was tickled to be maintaining 7+ knots for the crossing, the boat standing upright like solid oak, the decks nearly dry in spite of 4-6' cross seas. She remained stiff as the breeze freshened and - are you ready for this? - kissed 8.3 knots half-a-dozen times and held 8 for credible stretches. This is an old ketch fully loaded & provisioned for long-term liveaboard cruising, water and fuel tanks topped off, the dinghy in the davits, dragging a fixed, locked 3-blade prop, with the windvane steering. Speeds were GPS SOG readings, but any current was, like the wind, on the beam and not behind us. 8.3 knots! I didn’t know Silverheels could do that. What a ride! What a boat!

We spent only one night each in St. Lucia and St. Vincent. The harbors all seemed too crowded and/or rolly and/or mooring-infested and/or boat boy infested and/or (in one or two cases) life-threatening. Finally came to rest in Bequia for a few days. Admiralty bay is a spacious, clean anchorage without threat of attack by disgruntled Rastas. Still an easygoing vibe ashore, too, despite the considerable growth of tourism since I last visited there. Bequia is a nice place to visit even though the harbor is thick with unregulated, sometimes unreliable moorings set out by native entrepreneurs, making anchoring very difficult. Crowded, too. Easily a hundred boats here today; probably more. Also, as in a few other harbors I've stopped in these past couple of months, some goddam nightclub on shore here broadcasts jungle boom-boom music through mega-ton speakers most nights well past midnight, the bass so penetrating even silicone ear plugs can't entirely shut it out. 

 

Sunday, February 14, 2010  
Sainte Anne, Martinique

Silverheels and I have been in Martinique for 3 weeks now. It feels like longer, probably because I’ve finally been able to slow down. No weather fronts to beat or deadlines to meet or dates to keep, no crew to accommodate, no pressing boat repairs or projects. It's nice for a change. I be on island time, mon. I'm even writing a bit. Sold an article to Blue Water Sailing magazine a while back, and just sent a new piece in to Cruising World the other day. And I've resumed work on a book I'm writing that's been sitting on a back burner way too long.

I spent some time in Martinique years ago and loved it. Have wondered what it would be like now. Well, it's still beautiful, the people are still very friendly, and I can still get by on my little bit of French (which gets a little better every day). But it's also much more developed along the leeward coast now, crowded in some places that used to be nearly empty, with way too many boats clogging the harbors. Expensive, too, for those of us living on US dollars. (This is a French island; they use the Euro.) The main thing urging me onward, though, is that I have not found that one particular harbor here, a place where I can tie up in a small, laid back marina near a pretty, out of the way village. That's what I'm looking for, a cozy corner of the Caribbean to settle into for a while, use the boat as a waterfront cottage, and focus on writing, hiking, little boat improvement projects, short cruises, and just being. I have not found that place in Martinique - the few marinas here are not to my liking - nor in any of the other islands I've passed through recently.

So I'm moving on, towards Grenada. I've heard there are now a couple of small marinas in the pretty harbor where I anchored Sparrow for some months in the early '90's. I'm going to check them out. It should be less expensive in Grenada - the currency is EC, the Eastern Caribbean dollar - and it’ll certainly be easier to communicate since they speak English. Grenada is a particularly beautiful, friendly island that I visited several times in years past and always liked. No doubt it has developed during my long absence as have all these islands, but I don't expect it'll be on the scale of Martinique. We shall see. I'll begin slowly island-hopping that way tomorrow, when I cross to St. Lucia.  

Saturday, January 23, 2010
Sainte Pierre, Martinique  

Silverheels lies at anchor in 30' of clear Caribbean water off the very French town of St. Pierre in the northwest corner of Martinique. This is the top of the Windward Islands. In the past 10 days since leaving Nevis we've stopped at Guadeloupe, Iles des Saintes, and Dominica. A pity we had to rush like that, but my niece/nephew crew have flights booked from here back to the States in a few days. 

La Martinique, as the French call this island, has always been one of my favorites of all the West Indies. Seeing it again now reconfirms that preference. The inhabitants are almost invariably friendly and helpful, sometimes even stopping to offer a ride in their car if they see you walking in their direction. This happened yesterday when we hiked up to a big rum distillery on the slopes of Mount Pelée. 

Mount Pelée, an immense, green clad volcano, dominates this end of the island. It last erupted in 1902, wiping out the entire population of St. Pierre, some 30,000 people at the time, and destroying a dozen ships in the roadstead. Today things seem quieter and we're heading into the high mountain rain forests east of here in search waterfalls. Life is good.

Returning to Martinique is something I've privately been looking forward to these past few years, and it marks a waypoint in my cruising life. I plan to hang around a while, maybe do some writing and work on my French. Pourquoi pas?

 

Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Oualie Beach, Nevis

This evening we’re anchored in an idyllic cove on the north end Nevis, one of the eastern Caribbean's Leeward Islands. Silverheels lies off a white sand beach graced with a low-key inn, a tropical bar and a great wifi signal. Stars glitter by the millions overhead, unfettered by man-made lights. It's about 80-degrees, the gentle island breeze perfumed by green foliage and wild spices. The good people of Nevis haven’t suffered the overdose of tourism that plagues some others in the Lesser Antilles and so they remain kind and friendly to visitors. The livin' is easy here.

My 28-year-old nephew is crewing with me for a couple of weeks, escaping the frigid New York winter. He and I get along well and it's fun having him aboard. Eric flew in to St. Maarten on the 6th of January. After some fast preparations and provisioning, we set sail at dawn on the 9th, fighting our way sixty miles southeast that first day against a strong ESE’ly wind and a rough chop. Silverheels weathered Statia’s (St. Eustatius’) windward side and then plowed along the west coast of St. Kits (St. Christopher) to a remote, blessedly smooth anchorage on that island’s southwest corner. In the morning we chugged another hour or so southeast to Charlestown, island of Nevis, and cleared in. Here we’re hanging out, waiting for Eric’s sister (my niece), Britt, to join us for the remainder of the sail to Martinique, still 150 nautical miles SSE. Along the way we may stop overnight in Montserrat, and then spend some days visiting Guadeloupe, Iles des Saintes, and Dominica. 

 

Thursday, December 17, 2009
Simpson Bay, St. Maarten

We cast off Beaufort Docks at 9:30 AM on Sunday, December 6th, and dropped anchor in Simpson Bay, St. Maarten, Netherlands Antilles at 2130 hrs. (9:30 PM) this evening, thus ending my first offshore passage with Silverheels, and in fact my first long offshore passage since I sailed Sparrow back from Europe in 1993! My all-girl crew for this trip, Davina and Jennifer, were very good shipmates. Both stood their watches without complaint, voluntarily - even eagerly - braved the foredeck in rough weather, and provided pleasant company to boot. I could hardly have asked for more.

Silverheels did well, too. Some equipment broke, most notably a blade of the wind generator and the Shaft-Lok, both of which caused some inconvenience. The boat's 32-year-old interior joinery groaned and creaked in heavy seas like the timbers of a mine on the verse of collapse, but she seems to have come through it in tact, with no visible signs of the stresses she endured from 10-15' seas - short, steep seas! - pounding her relentlessly for days on end in 20-35 knot winds.

As for the captain, I confess it took me a few days to thoroughly get my sea legs in those conditions. Never got sick, but didn't feel all that great, either. But once we all settled in for the long haul, things were not too bad. We were never in great danger. The passageweather.com forecasts I used to time our departure from Beaufort were pretty good, except the wind generally turned out to be 10 knots stronger than predicted and slower to shift. Worse, the seas were disproportionately short & steep so that 10-12 footers packed a real punch and the motion onboard was damned uncomfortable. We all grew thoroughly sick of it and were very glad to reach the Horse Latitudes where the wind eased off (but never died) and the seas smoothed out. Finally found the true trade winds, albeit a bit further south than expected, and finished up on a fast broad reach for the final leg. Altogether, the last 4 days - in the Horse Lats & then the trades - were idyllic sailing with warm, sunny days and awe-inspiring, star & meteor filled nights, plus the requisite flying fishes on deck most mornings and one fair size dolphin fish (mahi-mahi, not Flipper) that was unwise enough to bite the lure I was trailing.

Anyway, it's all history now. My delivery crew has departed. St. Martin is way too touristy and developed for my taste, but a welcome rest stop nonetheless. I'll probably stay here until around New Years before heading down islands.

 

Tuesday, December 15, 2009
22° 52’ N x 063° 17’ W

I’m writing this aboard the good ketch Silverheels, presently under sail at 22° 52’ N x 063° 17’ W, or about 290 nautical miles north of St. Martin, Leeward Islands. Like a horse smelling the barn, Silverheels is now reaching happily at 5 to 7 knots across a fair easterly breeze and a long, gentle swell, perhaps the beginning of the true trade winds. We're on the home stretch of what has been, until a couple of days ago, a regrettably rough passage from Beaufort, NC. Maybe I’ll describe some of that in this logblog when I get around to it, but not now and not when I first arrive in St. Martin. Then my lovely all-girl crew and I will be busy for a few days cleaning up, partying and just getting our land legs back after 11½ days and about 1,400 nautical miles of rocking and reeling. (Our typical day's run has been around 125 to 135 n. mi., about what you'd expect from a buxom old ketch like Silverheels, but 2 days of strong headwinds & steep seas and one night hove-to reduced our overall average to a slightly less credible number.)

Anyway, all's well that ends well and this little passage seems to be headed for a happy ending.

 

Friday, November 27, 2009
Beaufort, North Carolina

Busy now with final preparations to sail from Beaufort, North Carolina to St. Maarten (St. Martin) in the eastern Caribbean. That's about 1,400 nautical miles of non-stop, offshore sailing. Lots of final projects getting done - just installed 2 new autopilot systems - and final provisioning is yet to come. I have a lovely all-girl crew joining me for this passage. Davina and Jennifer are due to arrive this weekend. Our scheduled departure date is next Tuesday, December 1st, just 4 days from now. However, the long-range weather forecast (www.passageweather.com) suggests that we may have to delay that for a couple of days to depart in reasonable conditions. This is, after all, a bit late in the season and the autumn gales are raising Cain out there. Sailing dates are always "weather permitting." 

In my mind, this departure marks the end of Silverheels' "refit," which has lasted just one month shy of 3 years! - and the beginning of "boat improvement projects" and general maintenance without end. The main difference is that now we're cruising.

So, more soon from the sunny Caribbean!

 

Monday, November 2, 2009
Beaufort, North Carolina

Little has changed these past months. Silverheels remains on a mooring in Beaufort, North Carolina. She has benefited from the completion of several more refit projects, including a beautifully (if I do say so myself) re-insulated refrigerator compartment. I was away most of October, first working the Annapolis sailboat show, then visiting family in NYC & Connecticut. Now I'm into the final push to get a bunch of new equipment installed on the boat before our circa December 1st departure for St. Maarten in the northeastern Caribbean. Two enthusiastic young women have signed on to crew for that offshore passage. Hey, somebody's gotta' do it.

My local music group, Neo Trio, has gotten noticeably better. We've played a number of successful gigs, repeatedly packing the chic (for Beaufort) venue called Cru Wine Bar, most recently this past Halloween night. Way fun! 

 

Monday, July 27, 2009
Beaufort, North Carolina

Aside from one day sail, Silverheels has been tied to a rented mooring for the past month, directly across Taylor Creek channel from downtown Beaufort. Today, however, I took her on a scouting mission to a creek 8 or 10 miles away, where we are now anchored for the night. According to some of the old salts 'round these parts, the ones who really know, this creek I'm in is the best hurricane hole for many miles. The next comparable spots are twice the distance away. 

North Carolina gets more than its share of hurricanes most years, and since I'm spending the season here aboard my boat I have to be prepared in advance to deal with them. That means knowing exactly where I'm going to take Silverheels when a storm is tracking this way, including  being familiar with the entrance (this one is tricky and, for Silverheels, tide-dependent), the holding ground (soft mud), and the terrain (low, but high enough that the neck between my anchorage and the open bay has not been submerged by storms in the remembered past). 

I feel a whole lot better now having my hurricane Plan A in place. Here's hoping I don't need it.

Otherwise, I've been hanging out in Beaufort. I'm playing music with my friend John Nelson's band. We've already had two paying gigs and we're booked for several more in August. I've always been a guitar player, but in this trio I'm making my debut on electric bass, which is to say this old dog is learning a new trick. It's both challenging and extra fun. 

I spend most days picking away at Silverheels' never-ending list of boat renovation projects. Currently re-insulating the icebox. All is well and life is good. 

 

Friday, June 19, 2009
Beaufort, North Carolina

We're lying to two anchors in Taylor Creek, Beaufort, North Carolina, having sailed (and motored) up the East Coast from Green Cove Springs, Florida over a 9-day period. This included a few days layover en route to catch up on sleep and make a few repairs. 

The trip was eventful, particularly a few days and nights offshore riding the inner edge of the Gulf Stream northeastward from Fernandina Beach, Florida to Wrightsville Beach, North Carolina. That brief passage was a microcosm of what offshore sailing can often be, a mixed bag:  slipping along before light southerlies, battling some downright scary late-night thunder storms, eating flying fish for breakfast, fixing the things that broke, reading paperbacks, navigating, dodging freighters, getting hardly any sleep, and applauding the antics of spotted dolphins cavorting at Silverheels' bow wave.

The first and last days of the trip we motored up the Intra Coastal Waterway, an inside route that links canals, rivers and bays along much of the US East Coast. That part of the trip was another variety pack of experiences: biting bugs, graceful waterfowl, muggy heat, silent marshlands, reluctant drawbridges, friendly boaters, tedious hours of motoring, some brisk motorsailing. It's can be grueling for a single-hander, having to pay attention every moment to the channel markers threading a narrow passage through dark, shallow and often shoaling waters. 

Anyway, we're here. I have good friends to hang out with ashore. We'll be playing music and getting a little crazy. I plan to stay a while - some weeks, at least. Also looking forward to some visits from family soon. 

Silverheels seems content. Our cruising life has begun in earnest. May it be long and joyful!

 

Tuesday, June 09, 2009
Green Cove Springs, Florida

On a hot, sunny, nearly windless summer day Silverheels and I cast off from our longtime home at Green Cove Springs Marina and set sail on what I hope will be a long and happy cruise together. I am single-handing the boat, this being a time for us to become better acquainted underway at our own pace. 

 

Thursday, June 05, 2009
Green Cove Springs, Florida

Silverheels was launched with fresh bottom paint and a long list of material improvements after more than 2 months in dry-dock. 

 

Monday, April 27, 2009 
Green Cove Springs, Florida

The good ship Silverheels and I are presently in dry-dock at Green Cove Springs Marina, a mile or two outside the little northeast Florida town of the same name. We hope to be re-launched in a month or so with new bottom paint and a list of other jobs done, then to set sail on a cruise with no fixed route and no timetable worthy of the term. 

In the Beginning

Gordon Lightfoot named my boat for me. He's the Canadian folk singer most famous for his ballad, "The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald," but he also wrote & recorded a lesser-known song titled "Christian Island," a tune that has been with me since my early sailing days. In it he sings:

Tall and strong she dips and reels
I call her Silverheels
And she tells me how she feels
She’s a good old boat and she’ll stay afloat
Through the toughest gale and keep smilin’
But for one more day she would like to stay
In the lee of Christian Island

Surely "Silverheels" refers to the sparkling trail left by a boat moving through bioluminescent water at night, and maybe also to the play of moonlight on a ship's wake. I just always liked the feel of that song. It begins,

I'm sailing down the summer wind
I got whiskers on my chin
And I like the mood I'm in...

Even though I hadn't heard the song for many years, the first time I saw this good old boat I just knew she was my Silverheels. Later I learned that the native American actor who played The Lone Ranger's Indian sidekick, Tonto, in the old television series was named Jay Silverheels. He was a pretty cool character in the show, and a rugged, self-made man in real life. I named my boat yard workbench "Fort Tonto" in his honor. The fact that tonto means "fool" in Spanish probably makes it all the more appropriate - for me, not for Jay. A little humility never hurts, especially during a major refit of an old sailboat.

Lastly, I discovered there is also the Colorado "Legend of Silverheels," which you can read at http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mount_Silverheels .

Now, there is an old superstition that it's bad luck to change the name of a boat. There is also an even older nautical tradition of doing just that, renaming boats, which dates back to the earliest mariners.  When I found Silverheels for sale in Indiantown, Florida, she bore the name "Malu Lani," which means something like "beneath the sky," or "under the watchful eye of heaven" in Polynesian. It's a nice sentiment, but Malu Lani was a mouthful to say, always required repeating and explaining, and wasn't even the boat's original name, merely the previous owner's idea of cool. In fact, in my humble opinion this vessel had never had a proper name... until I showed up. Since I was planning (and have since nearly completed) an extreme makeover - since she would soon be metamorphosing into a virtually new entity - it seemed right that her name should evolve along with her. There was a transition period in the beginning, when her old name was still on the transom and her new one was merely on the paperwork and in my heart. During that time I called her "Malu Lani Silverheels." You know, to sort of get her used to the idea. 

Shortly after I bought the boat, I single-handed her 300-odd miles to a boat yard on the Saint John's River in northeast Florida. This 6-day trip north went smoothly, most of it following the Intracoastal Waterway, the "ICW", that being a protected, inside route. As tempted as I was to take Silverheels offshore into the Gulf Stream, I am happy to say I did not. She was an old and (up 'til then) sadly neglected boat entirely new to me. It would have been reckless, indeed, to expose her to the rigors of even a brief open water passage. Of course, I'd gone through her thoroughly before setting sail, but I could only prepare so much in that short time. Her ancient standing rigging alone was reason enough to play it safe on this, our maiden voyage. Things will be very different the next time we set sail. 

In any case, that first little passage afforded me an opportunity to get to know my new charge at a relaxed pace and on January 23, 2007, I arrived at Green Cove Springs Marina with a reinforced admiration for this classic ketch, and a substantial work list to bring her up to snuff. We were ready to get going on the renovation of Silverheels.