Family and Regatta Time in Elizabeth Harbour

Yesterday morning, I did one more load of laundry and polished all the one-deck stainless railings and fittings from the stern up to the front of the pilot house and did final tidying prior to my sister Beth Ann and her husband's Rich's arrival in the afternoon. Peter and I got ourselves ready to go ashore, launched the dinghy and went to shore on Stocking Island for lunch at the Chat 'n' Chill and the 2:00 Regatta Variety Show. The show drew a crowd of hundreds, and the performers were amazing, including singers, intrumentalists, comedians, skit performers, and more. 

Crowd gathering for the Variety Show

Bagpipe music opening the show

The two finalists in the hairiest back contest

Singers from Canada

The Skeleton Dancers

We were so well entertained that we almost forgot about Beth Ann and Rich and didn't leave the Chat 'n' Chill until we got a text that they were on their way to Georgetown from the airport. We raced across the Harbour and got to the Exuma Market dinghy dock and on shore just as their taxi pulled up. We haven't been together since Christmas of 2021, so it is great to be able to spend a week together in this beautiful place. 

Beth Ann pleased to have a welcoming sign, with the taxi driver

The ride across the choppy harbor was bumpy and wet. Beth Ann and I were in the bow, and we were totally soaked and needed to a total change of clothes when we got to Mantra. Then we went to shore and got drinks and fries at the Chat 'n' Chill, sitting at a table on the beach with our feet in the sand until sunset.

Back on Mantra, we sat in the pilot house enjoying the balmy weather and watching the anchor lights come on one by one to make an array of brilliance in the night sky. No one was hungry, so dinner was chips and dips. Then we played a game of pinochle before bedtime just after 9:00.

This morning has been, as usual, leisurely. We are watching the Regatta's in-harbor races and enjoying the sunshine and turquoise waters. In just a while, we will do some snorkeling and later will go to town for lunch and shopping and a Regatta party at the Peace and Plenty at 4:00.

Sailboat racing in the harbor

Peter and Rich watching the race

Beth Ann watching the race from the swim platform

The two leading boats passing by

Work Day with Bahamian Music

It was a gorgeous day, a swimsuit day, and Peter and I spent it working on the boat. He researched the Yanmar engine in the manuals and online, hoping to discover how to fix it. (It is working, just not as well as he would like.) He also worked on the drain on the kitchen sink and did other tasks. I was busy doing three small loads of laundry (which dried quickly in the sun and wind); cleaning down below; scrubbing out mold and dirt in the gutter for fresh water collection; cleaning the windows and all the surfaces, inside and out, of the pilot house; deep cleaning the space around the teak floor in the cockpit (It has seldom been so clean.); and organizing the snorkeling gear--in addition to preparing a couple meals. 

During the day, the Chat 'n Chill is open on the beach and plays rhythmic Bahamian music. It was my accompaniment to work. At sunset, the Chat 'n Chill closes for the day, and quiet descends. The water taxis and dinghies become infrequent, and occasionally we can hear other people chatting on nearby boats.  The loudest noise is the wind. It is very peaceful. Most of the boaters, including us, get up with the sun and go to bed early.

We finished up our tasks just before sunset. Peter practiced his conch shell trumpet blowing as the western sky turned pink and yellow and orange before darkening to midnight blue and then black all around. The anchor lights of 350 boats are twinkling above the water. 

Sunset from the stern of Mantra

Peter heralding the sunset

Anchor lights to the south

Regatta Time in Georgetown

Monday, Feb. 20

Peter arose before me and got everything ready for our departure from West Bay. Just before 7 a.m., we raised the anchor and headed southeast for the Exuma Islands. We would have liked to sail, but the wind was light and coming from the direction of our heading, so we were forced to motor. Shortly after 5 p.m., we picked up a mooring ball in 3 meters of water on the west side of Shroud Cay, surrounded by a couple dozen other boats. Despite the fact that we could not sail, we enjoyed the beautiful blues and turquoises of the water, the 80 degree temperature and the clear skies. Most of the time the water stretched to the horizon for 360 degrees, no land in sight.

Motoring from West Bay, New Providence Island

Peter spent the hours on the water working on various small tasks, of which there seem to be an infinite number. I read a few chapters of The House of the Seven Gables, colored with pencils in my mandala coloring book, did some word search puzzles in theNational Parks Puzzles Word Search book my dear sister-in-law April included in my many Christmas gifts from her, and did a few crossword puzzles. I made fried eggs and toast for breakfast, heated up a left-over rice and beans dish topped with freshly cut tomatoes for lunch, and made grilled cheese sandwiches and boiled carrots for dinner. Peter assisted with the sandwiches since I often burn them.

Before dinner, with less than an hour until sunset, I put on my swimsuit, mask, snorkel and cleaning gloves and then spent about an hour rubbing marine life off the hull on the starboard side, creating great plumes of filth that dispersed in the light current. Peter swam around and scraped off barnacles; fortunately, there are not many. The sunset was fading as we finished. The minuscule krill that I detached from the hull along with algae were clinging to our swimsuits and skin when we emerged from the water and we had to vigorously wash them away. (They were even inside my swimsuit—disgusting!)

Tuesday, Feb. 21

We had a treat for breakfast this morning, French toast topped with the lemon curd which Ula made and sent with us. As with any food Ula prepares, it was perfection.

We dropped off the mooring ball around 9 a.m. and headed down the chain of islands in the Exumas. We are still waiting for a good sailing day; motoring is so boring. Peter absolutely hates it. However, the turquoise of the water and the cerulean of the cloudless sky and the warmth of the air brightened the day. Once again, I did some reading and some crossword puzzles. In addition, I ran two loads of laundry in the washing machine while the engine was running. Our washing machine on board can take less than half the amount of clothes as the one we have at home. Two loads is the most I can do in one day, limited by the lifelines available to serve as clotheslines and the number of clothespins I have. (The amount is always diminishing as occasionally one falls overboard and cannot be retrieved.) Meanwhile, Peter worked on small tasks such as making soft shackles.

Anchored in the lee of Shroud Cay

Morning as we leave Shroud Cay

We anchored in Jack’s Bay to the west of Great Guana Cay around 3 p.m. As soon as everything was tidy, I was in my swimsuit and mask, snorkel and fins and in the water. Peter joined me as soon as he enjoyed his afternoon cup of tea. Nearby were two reef patches with an abundance of fish. Today’s sightings included one brilliant blue and yellow queen angelfish; some four-eye butterflyfish and spotfin butterflyfish; a few stoplight parrotfish in both the initial and terminal phases as well as bluehead and creole wrasse and queen conch; and dozens to hundreds of disc-shaped blue tang, bar jacks, long-spine squirrelfish with red coloration and large bulging black eyes, and French grunts striped with blue and yellow. A large snapper was swimming over the sandy bottom but I could not get close enough to identify what kind.

View from the swim platform at Jack's Bay, Great Guana Cay

We returned to Mantra and began to clean the hull. The port side was not as encrusted and filthy as the starboard side because it did not receive as much direct sunlight when the boat was moored at Jensen Beach. I was two-thirds along the hull, approaching the bow, when Peter insisted that I come aboard so that we could re-anchor. There was only a thin layer of sand over limestone where we were, so we moved a bit north while there was still daylight to a spot with deeper sand for the anchor to dig into.

The sunset was absolutely gorgeous, and as the red and orange and midnight blue hues faded, Jupiter and Venus could be seen in a vertical line above the new moon. As the sky turned to black, the stars of the constellations and the Milky Way grew more luminous.

Sunset at Jack's Bay

Wednesday, February 22

It was a boring day of motoring, but we made it to Elizabeth Harbour by 4 p.m., having passed from the turquoise, calm waters of the Exuma Banks through Galliot Cut to the deep blue, choppy waters of Exuma Sound. A dolphin swam by on the port side to greet us.

Approaching Galliot Cut

We anchored in almost the same place as 2019, right in front of the Chat ‘n Chill on Stocking Island. We had no sooner dropped than a dinghy came by from a boat we had partied with in Casco Bay, Maine, last year, inviting us to a bonfire party. After we tidied up, we launched the orange kayak and paddled to the boat on on port side, Sol Purpose, which was also flying an OCC burgee. Then we went the short distance to the beach and got fries and a Sands beer to share as we watched the sunset.

Chat 'n Chill Beach from Mantra

Sunset from Chat 'n Chill

From memory, I made (and actually improved on) creamed spinach served over toast. Delicious, I must say! After dinner, Peter set off for the bonfire party while I commenced to make two different kinds of bean soups. He returned having not located it. (It was probably on the windward side of the island, but he didn’t know where the path was.)

The Georgetown Regatta officially commenced today. There are about 350 boats anchored in the harbor. As night settled in, anchor lights formed an array of constellations against the black sky.

I finished cooking and Peter completed (perfectly) his soft shackle before an early bedtime for both of us. Tomorrow, he will work on the engine, which has been misbehaving, and I will do a few loads of laundry and general cleaning in preparation for my sister Beth Ann and her husband Rich’s arrival Friday afternoon. 

Pompano Beach to West Bay of New Providence Island

I truly hate being behind on my blogging. I will do my best to capture the highlights of last few days. 

We arrived at Pompano Beach on the morning of Valentine's Day, having motored through the night with calm conditions. We were actually there too early, well before dawn (4:30 a.m.) so we hove to offshore for two and a half hours and slept. After going through Hillsboro Inlet, we passed three bascule bridges heading south on the Intracostal Waterway (ICW) and anchored in Lake Saint Barbara off the ICW before 10 a.m. in two and half meters of water. 

Our good friends Enis and Ula had arranged for us to tie up our dinghy to one of their friends' boats, which was tied up to their dock. They were both working, so we spent the day getting tasks done on the boat and then dinghied in to shore. Enis met us at the dock and then drove us to their lovely home, which they have thoroughly renovated, doing a great deal of the work themselves. They had told us that they would be out of town Sunday and Monday and we would see why when we arrived on Tuesday. The surprise was a Porsche Carrera T, Enis' dream car. They had flown to New Orleans to get it and drive back home with it. 

Ula made delicious pasta primavera for dinner and then whipped up individual chocolate lava cakes baked in ramekins and served with fruis and vanilla ice cream. Everytime Ula cooks for us, we are so spoiled.

The next day (Wednesday, Feb. 15), we borrowed Enis's mango colored Jeep and shopped for groceries and hardware for the boat. There are no Costco's in the area, but I was able to get a lot of things on my list at Trader Joe's and then went to a Walmart Supercenter to get the rest. We had to make two trips in the dinghy to ferry the 20 grocery bags and 5 flats of canned goods to Mantra. I spent most of the afternoon putting everything away in lockers and the refrigerator. 

Provisions unpacked

Everything stowed and ship-shape

Enis and Ula had offered the spare bedroom at their house, so we spent Wednesday night with them, chatting and enjoying another delicious meal. We returned to our boat after making a quick stop of Publix for a few more items for the pantry and fridge. The rest of the day, both of us were busy with various tasks. Enis and Ula had washed all of our used bed linens and towels (from the guys' trip from Rhode Island), so I made beds and put the linens not curdrently needed (such as fleece blankets!) in plastic bags and stowed them in the aft cabin. They had also cleaned the pilot house cushion covers, so I pushed and shoved the foam sections into the covers. Over time, most of the zipper pulls have fallen off or fallen apart, so I had to use pliers to close all the openings. Right now, the cushions look wonderful in the pilot house, stain-free and clean. We know it won't last. Cream with blue piping is elegant but really not practical. However, getting new cushion covers made is just not a priority.

Near sunset we returned to their home, Taking two vehicles, so that Peter could enjoy a ride in the Porsche, we drove toward the beach, parking nearby. We then strolled along the beachfront promonade and our on the pier. The lights are all low and orangish so that turtle hutchlings will not become confused making their way to water. Although green turtles make some nests on the 26-mile coast of Broward County, the majority of the turtles coming in from sea are loggerheads. The season for turtles nesting and hatching runs from March 1 to October 31. Last year there were approximately 2000 nexts, with one quarter of them located in Pompano Beach.

Ula, Enis, Peter and Sherri on the pier

The four of us enjoyed a meal out at a restaurant by the ICW before returning to their house. Enis had decided to join us for our crossing of the Gulf Stream en route to New Providence Island, so we waited for him to shower and pack. Ula drove us to the dinghy, we puttered to Mantra (because of manatees) and then all went to bed. 

Ula, Enis, Peter and Sherri dining by the ICW

Being gentlemen, Enis and Peter got up at 5 a.m on Friday, February 17, as we began the journey. I was awoken by the pounding to the bow over the waves, ka-BOOM, ka-BOOM. Had I not known better from experience, I would have thiught the boat was being taken aparat. At first I thought that dramatic up and down motion would last for only a short while as we passed thorugh the inlet, but it did not abate. Then we heeled quite a bit and I was rather trapped in the bed. Eventually, after sleeping a couple more hours, I got up. The sea a confused mess of waves up to 5 feet, some from one direction, others rolling in from a different one. Enis had already make his offering to the sea gods. We all put on scopolamine patches; even with these, Enis had to lean over the lee side one more time and I, probably spending too much time down below getting food and harnesses, felt the sudden onset of nausea and made it to the rail in time to empty what little food there was in my stomch into the waves.

Peter at the wheel as we cross the brilliant blue Gulf Stream

Although the seas remained rough until we made it across the Gulf Stream, we had no more incidences of sickness and we marvelled at the deep royal blue color all around us. We took turns napping all day. By dinner time, it was settled enough for me to cook a one-dish meal. Enis did the dishes and he and Peter went to bed while I took the first night watch. As is my custom, I agreed to remain on watch not for a designated period of time but for as long as I could, which in this case was over four and a half hours. The deal is that I do a longer watch than is typical and then am allowed to sleep until dawn. It works for me!

Orignially we had planned to stop in Albany Marina on the southwest shore to clear with Customs and Immigration, but Peter did some Internet research and was not impressed by the reviews, so we changed course and went to Lyford Cay Marina, nestled in the gated enclave of privileged, super-wealthy people. Just as we were in the fairway and turning to back in to the slip, the throttle failed. Fortunately, it was calm and Peter has excellent skills in reading the wind and current and he was able to glide Mantra in with no problem. At 1 p.m. on Saturday, Feb. 18, we docked and then waited for the Bahamian officials to arrive. They arrived within an hour, just as we were finishing lunch, and the process went smoothly. (Peter had tried to fill out the forms online prior to arrival, but the website did not cooperate.) 

Approaching Lyford Cay Marina

Channel market at entrance to Lyford Cay

Later, we launched the dinghy and went out to find a place to snorkel. The first place we dropped the dinghy anchor, Enis and I went to explore but there was nothing but karst limestone and grasses, very little animal life. We found another spot to the west and closer to shore. There were only a few coral heads of various sizes, but we were excited to see tropical fish in the wild again. (Peter joined us for this marine sight-seeing.)

Enis and Peter in the dinghy

After dinner of ravioli, we all retired for the night. This morning, we ate cereal for breakfast. Peter had to download tax documents, so Enis and I abandoned him and took the dinghy out again, this time going east of the channel markers toward some small breaking waves. It was a good spot, with shallow canyons running among the coral outcroppings. The variety of fish was greater and the colors more vivid compared to yesterday's snorkeling. Wrasses, stiking blue surgeonfish, jacks, birght red squirrelfish, sargeant majors--these were just a few of the species we encountered. 

Back at the dock, we quickly got the dinghy on the foredeck and the outboard engine in the forepeak. Enis had arranged for a taxi to the airport for his 2:00 flight home, and he helped us cast off at 11:45 as the driver waited for him. An hour and fifteen minutes later, we were anchored in the turquoise water of WEst Bay. After lunch, I put sheets in the washing machine and then hung them on the life lines to dry in the intense afternoon sun and light breeze. 

West Bay

Laundry drying in a couple hours (unlike never in Maine)

We pull up anchor at first light tomorrow and head down the Tongue of the Ocean to the Exumas. 

.

Back in the Beautiful Bahamas

There will have to be detail added later. With our friend Enis as crew, we crossed the Gulf Stream and arrived at Lyford Cay Club Marina on the northwest side of New Providence Island. We have been snorkeling twice already. The color of the water and the patterns and hues and shapes of the fish delight me.

We are almost ready to leave this marina (where we have reliable Internet service), so I must sign off. Photos and details later.

Peter and Enis on the crossing from Florida to the Bahamas

Pompano Beach, Florida

Through the late afternoon on Sunday (Feb. 12), we continued working to get the boat ready to sail. Then, as the chop had quieted, we took the dinghy to the dock and walked a few blocks along the waterfront to get to downtown Jensen Beach. First we stopped at Publix (the supermarket) to buy a few more groceries for the next couple days. (I haven't paid attention to food prices since the late 80s or early 90s, but when three half-full bags of groceries cost $71, it's hard not to notice. I guess inflation is real!)

The streets were quiet either because it was Sunday evening or because the Superbowl was on, and we found a Cajun restaurant. The main menu we looked at did not have any vegetarian options, but, luckily, I asked about it; there was a separate vegetarian menu. The lighting and background music were perfect; there was only one other couple in the small restaurant and no visible TVs (a pet peeve of mine). The waitress offered free samples of soups and crayfish (which Peter had never eaten) before we ordered. The only disconcerting thing was the live music. Actually, the live music, which was in the patio area, to which one door was opened, was good. However, the recorded music on the sound system continued to be played so that we could hear the Eagles and Gerry Rafferty simultaneously and then CSNY and Cheryl Crow. A staff member told us that he didn't think the inside music could be turned off and flippantly quipped that we could enjoy the best of of both! Well, it wasn't really enjoyable but we were able to tune it all out.

Peter at Crawdaddy's in Jensen Beach. It's a large glass of orange juice, not alcohol!

We went to bed early that night in order to get up early and prepare for going under the Stuart Causeway Bridge at the 10 a.m. low tide while heeled over. Peter did not sleep well, worrying about whether we would make it, and he arose before me. We got to work in earnest after I was dressed (not in a bathing suit but in jeans, a long-sleeve shirt, a fleece and lined boots because it was only 50 degrees). Peter had already filled six jerry cans. I moved books to the starboard side while he got the four-point harness lines attached to the dinghy.

Peter getting the harness lines ready

I thought that the bow needed to be lower so he adjusted the lengths. Then we hauled the dinghy up to level of the gunwales to fill it with water. The hose from the anchor washdown was just long enough, and I stood for a half an hour holding it while water poured in, keeping the wind from spraying it as much as possible. Peter attached the jerry cans to another halyard and tested them. Then he assisted me in filling the dinghy by pouring in buckets of water.

Jerry cans tied on and the dinghy ready to fill with water

Filling the dinghy with water

When it was nearly full with at least a thousand pounds of water (our guess), we tested it. EPIC FAIL! When we sheeted out the boom and eased the line attaching the bow of the dinghy to the bow of Mantra, water cascaded out the front. The bow was too low. We had to start again even as low tide was near. We sheeted the dinghy back in and pulled the plug to release more water to decrease the weight so the lines could be adjusted; then we had to fill it again. The water under the bridge had reached low tide and was beginning to rise again. It was a race against time. As fast as we could, we completed our tasks. 

Just past 11 a.m., we dropped off the mooring ball and headed south with the dinghy, jerry cans and two bagged sails hauled in close. We stopped just before the bridge to ease them out over the water as far as possible and then hoped that the tide was still in our favor. At 11:58, we made it through with only the antenna barely grazing the bottom, sounding like a nail being filed lightly. I was so caught up in the moment, I forgot to take a photo!

Peter using binoculars to read the tide board

Two sails, six jerry cans and one water filled dinghy causing the boat to heel

We anchored on the south side of the bridge in view of Saint Lucie Inlet. We had missed breakfast, so I made lunch while Peter began to undo all our work. The jerry cans were pulled in and lashed along the kayak on the port foredeck. The sails were hauled in and lowered to the deck. We sheeted in the main and pulled the plug on the dinghy. After it drained, Peter removed the harness lines and we raised the outboard motor and lowered it and the sails into the forepeak. The dinghy was raised and secured to the foredeck. It took us only three hours to get the battens in the mainsail and the the sail attached to the mast. 

Just before 6 p.m., a few minutes before sunset, we pulled up the anchor and headed through the inlet with the last of the daylight. With only 5-8 knots of wind from the NW, the sea was calm. The sky was clear and visibility was excellent as we turned south with the mainsail up for stability and the engine in use for propulsion. Peter put on the jack lines on deck and did a few other tasks, but he was tired and went to bed shortly after we set off. 

Sunset from offshore south of Saint Lucie Inlet

He wasn't down below very long before he popped back up (no surprise to me) because he heard the mainsail scraping against the running rigging. We lowered the sail to the first reefing point, which fixed the problem. He had not had time to properly connect all the reef lines while we were putting the main on, so he finished that job. I could tell that he was not going to be able to sleep, so I volunteered to lie down about 9 p.m., even though I wasn't particulary sleepy. 

Peter woke me up around midnight, and I had night watch from then until 4:30 a.m., when we were just offshore from Pompano Beach. A bit south of the Hillsboro Inlet, I woke him up and we hove to wait a couple hours for daylight. At 7 a.m., leaving me to sleep, Peter set the sails and began making our way to the shore. I got up around 8 a.m. to help. We lowered the main as we approached the first mark and went under the Hillsboro Inlet Bridge at 8:30 a.m.  After two more bascule bridges, we arrived at Lake Saint Barbara (not a real lake, because it isn't totally bound by land on it perimeter) off the Intracoastal Waterway in Pompano Beach, were we dropped anchor in about 2.5 meters of water. We are surrounded by Florida-style up-market homes.

Approaching Hillsboro Inlet with the Hillsboro Light showing above the kayak

I made breakfast and tidied up. Peter has gone to sleep for a few hours. I am getting ready to shower on the swim platform and then read a book in the sunshine.

Still Getting Ready to Sail

Yesterday I awoke and got ready for the day, which on a boat at this time of year in southeast Florida means donning a swimsuit and slathering on sunscreen! This is one of the things I love about living aboard in tropical and subtropical climates.

It was another busy day, with more cleaning for me and boat work for Peter. Peter took the dinghy to the Stuart Causeway Bridge at the morning low tide to see if it would be possible to pass under without any special preparation to avoid a collision of the top of the mast (the instruments up there, actually) with the road bed. He returned with a negative report. After deliberation, he decided not to remove the instruments from the top of the mast, one of two alternatives. We need to heel the boat by weighing her over on one side.

By sunset, the main cabin and the saloon (the room that serves as the social space on a boat) were thoroughly cleaned and everything we had brought with us was stowed away. We made two attempts to put the genoa on the rolling furler mechanism on the forestay, but the wind was too strong. Before dinner, we took our first outdoor showers on the swim platform on the stern, another pleasure of living aboard. After dinner, we played a new game, Tic Tac Chec, a modified chess game designed and produced by our friend Don in (dreadful) Deltaville, Virginia. It was fun and challenging.

The foredeck with towels drying in the sunshine the genoa furled.

We managed to attach the genoa earlier this morning. The wind is building but we are going to attempt to attach the mainsail to the mast with the battcars soon. (I always think of "To the bat car, Robin!" every time Peter uses the term.) The battcars are sliding hardware with ball bearings that affix the mainsail to the mast along a track that allows the sail to be raised, lowered and reefed.

The battcars and Peter preparing to use them to attach the mainsail

BREAK

Well, the mainsail attempt was a fail. We had to abort just after we secured the first batten, removing it quickly and re-rolling the sail in a rather haphazard manner as the wind began to howl. It is a steady 20-25 knots now with higher gusts up to 40 knots.

Our next major task is putting as much weight as possible on one side of the boat so that we can motor under the bridge at the lowest tide possible, heeled over enough not to hit to the bottom of the bridge. We are aiming at 10 a.m. Monday morning, when the wind prediction is for NW at 10-15 knots with gusts to 20. Mainsail or not, we will leave the Intracoastal Waterway and get out on the open sea through the Saint Lucie Inlet. 

Then it is on to Pompano Beach to visit our good friends Enis and Ula and provision for months in the Bahamas. It's time for me to start perusing the Bahamas chart books, which have been stored away since the spring of 2019.

Jensen Beach, Florida

Yesterday, Peter and I left home at 3:30 a.m. and flew to West Palm Beach by way of Houston. The man who helped us find a place to leave Mantra, Jason Lewis, a fellow Ocean Cruising Club member, graciously picked us up at the airport and drove us north to Jensen Beach, stopping at a Publix in Stuart to allow us to get a few groceries before going to the mooring field, The man who had been looking after our boat since mid-November, Forrest, was unable to transport us by dinghy from the dock to the mooring, but he had arranged for another cruiser, Chico, to accomodate us. Chico and his wife Stacy have four children and live aboard their boat full-time, having moved from Durango, Colorado. The three-year-girl, Ila, was very eager to help; she held the gate open, assisted with loading everything in the dinghy and accompanied us to our boat. 

Peter and his erstwhile crew had left the boat clean, but a closed-up vessel, even with a de-humidifier running, retains moisture in the air, which, when it rises as vapor, collects in miniscule droplets on the headliner (ceiling, for your landlubbers) and that becomes a haven for mold and mildew. Thus, little black dots speckled the headliner as well as the mostly enclosed pilot house up on deck. 

We were both too tired to accomplish much on Thursday after flying across the country. (I had only slept an hour in the night and another hour on the first flight.)  I unpacked the groceries, Peter started the refrigeration and we ate the other halves of our egg salad salads which I had made for us to eat on the plane. Bedtime for me was 9 p.m. and I immediately fell asleep. Peter was not far behind.

By 7:30 this warm, sunny (but blustery) Friday morning, both of us were up and ready to get to work. Peter got other systems up and running, and I started my thorough cleaning. I was dismayed to discover that the bottle of bleach, which eliminates those ugly black spots on contact, was nearly empty. Luckily, someone had purchased and left half a container of Lysol wipes with bleach, and those did the trick. But I missed the pungent aroma of bleach at work killing organic material!

Tackling the galley first, I started at the top and cleaned almost every surface down to the sole (floor for you landlubbers) with various cleaning supplies. In the process, I discovered that the drain fitting under one of the kitchen sinks was leaking, adding another job to Peter's long list. While I was waiting for surfaces to dry, I moved on to the pilot house, which had accumulated the most mold, mildew and dirt. Fortunately, I do have a good supply of Oxi-Clean, and that dissolved in a bucket of water enabled me to clean every hoizontal and vertical surface in the pilot house and the cockpit, including the truly filthy floor.

Ceiling of the pilot house with mold and mildew on the left and clean and reflective on the right

Then I moved on to the bathroom, cleaning absolutely everything in there. My next job was the drawers and clothes lockers in the main cabin, which only needed a light cleaning. Meanwhile, Peter was fixing things such as one of the cup holders and the spinnaker pole, ordering parts, getting the battens ready for when we hank on the mainsail tomorrow, launching the dinghy, studying the weather and making plans for getting under a 65-foot bridge (Our air draft is almost 67 feet.) and heading south. In the early afternoon, we took a break for a quick lunch--tortilla chips and queso blanco dip--and then returned to our tasks. I inventoried the food supplies in the pantry locker, which seems small from the front but is quite deep. I found that the majority of the provisions I had stocked for the guys when I left the boat in October were unused and there were quite a few cans of potato soup with bacon, chicken breast chunks, sardines, tuna, and pork and beans. Somehow we now have three bottles of Worchestershire sauce, two of them opened and more than half full, a lot of Goldfish snacks, and an enormious jar of extra chunky peanut butter, mostly full. (Unfortunately, I only like smooth, and Peter is not really a fan of peanut butter. I know of someone we will see soon, farther down the coast, who might like it.) The meat and fish based foods as well as the Worchestershire sauce and other sauces have been put in the most inaccessible bin at the back, ready for any omnivores who want to cook with or eat them.

We watched the sunset and then I tidied up my supplies and surveyed the cleanliness of the galley, pilothouse, bathroom and headliner in the aft cabin with joy. Peter got out the sail cover and put it on the boom while I made the first real meal we've had: ravioli, marinara sauce and sauted mushrooms. 

After dinner, after washing the dishes in the left basin of our two-basin kitchen sink (What luck that we have two!), I unpacked my suitcases. (Well, one was mine and one Peter and I shared; we managed to pack everything for a seven or eight month trip and have only two reasonable sized checked bags and one carry-on plus our personal bags.) I put all my clothes in my drawers and my hanging locker. The miscellaneous stuff has to wait until tomorrow. 

Now, it is approaching 10 p.m. and it's past my bedtime. The sun rises at 7 a.m., and I must be up and back to work with the daylight.