Oops and Isla Providencia

French Harbor, Roatan

I want to apologize for not posting the decision that we made, but I'll bet most of you figured out that we left Roatan. Unfortunately, the internet at the marina we ducked into decided not to work from Monday evening until we left at noon on Tuesday. Who knew you couldn't trust the internet in Honduras? We are now in Isla Providencia, a tiny island paradise off the coast of Nicaragua.

But parting was such sweet sorrow. We felt that there was so much more to see in the Bay Islands- amazing snorkeling, the town of Jonesville that can only be reached by boat, the island of Guanaja. Plus, we didn't even get to try guatusa, the rabbit critter that we saw on Fantasy Island. According to the bartender there, they are delicious stewed in coconut milk. This guy also stops by an iguana shack every day on the way to work.

Obviously, we would never eat a guatusa (though Vlad would most certainly frequent the iguana shack), but we really missed out on exploring Roatan. Nevertheless, we have to be down in Panama by the end of July, and after carefully reviewing the weather, we decided it was just too perfect to pass up. There will be more to come on our trip from Honduras, which included fish, more stuff breaking, the U.S. Coast Guard and big waves, and on Providencia, this amazing place where we will be spending the next couple of weeks.

** Hat tip to one my friends from college, Joshua Allen, for identifying the guatusa. Thanks for letting me be lazy!

Should I Stay or Should I Go Now

Unfortunately, we arrived in Roatan two days before the best weather window ever for heading to Panama. The winds were almost nonexistent and were even blowing on occasion from the south, and the seas were reminiscent of a Kansas prairie. Nothing was happening, which is the best way to travel a 200-mile bash to windward around a point that Columbus named Cabo Gracias A Dios (translation: thank goodness we made it around that one!) But we had just gotten here. Bettie needed some routine maintenance before we took her on a 600-mile jaunt, and we wanted a chance to see the island. 

And we've gotten a fair amount of stuff done while stationed off of French Harbor. We changed the oil,   did some battery maintenance, gave the outboard some love, shocked the water tanks, changed the fuel filters, fixed the reef point in the sail, and conquered the laundry mountain that was threatening to erupt and destroy us all. But we are once again in that weather pickle we know and love. Should we leave now and haul butt to Panama even though by the weekend the weather looks rougher? Should we stay and continue exploring the south coast of Roatan even though hurricane season is now a month in? Should we be so squeamish about sailing through six to eight foot seas with gusts up to 30-35 knots? Plus, we have to make it to Panama by the end of July because our dear friend Matt will be waiting in Bocas del Toro for awesome fun times snorkeling, jungle hiking, beach lounging and performing as our own personal human juke box for sing-a-longs in the cockpit. 

They don't tell you in cruisers' school just exactly how difficult it is to pick your weather windows (maybe I should have sprung for the extra tutoring!), nor is it as obvious that weather reports are often completely and utterly wrong. On occasion I have longed to just surrender all independent thought to a some weather guru, and Vlad, the hedgehog and I could just sail off into the sunset with fair winds and following seas, under the graceful curve of a double rainbow. Alas, in cruising as in life, we have to make our own choices, and today we'll make ours.

At least we don't look too unhappy about it.

The folks over at the Picaroon Blog had some helpful thoughts on the ever-present weather topic. 

Crossing the Gulfo de Honduras

Leaving Cozumel

Lions, tigers, waterspouts. Oh, my! Other than a couple of day trips down the Yucatan Coast, we had yet to really venture out into the Caribbean Sea, having spent all of our time loving on the Gulf of Mexico (And what's not to love!). Up until this point we were pretty sure that a beam reach was a mariner's myth, the unicorn of the sailing world, but no longer. Now, we are fully indoctrinated into Caribbean sailing which includes beam reaches, beam seas and a schizophrenic mixture of gorgeous and horrendous weather. Highlights of our trip include:

1. The most intense fuel dock we've encountered yet at the marina in Cozumel. No blithely stepping off the boat onto the dock here. Instead, it required maneuvering Bettie next to a massive concrete wall complete with jagged, rusty metal protrusions, throwing lines up ten feet to the dock guys and then scrambling up giant tires wrapped in this rope that was bigger around than Vlad's arms.

It looks more impressive in person, I swear.

2. More seasickness from yours truly. I know that's more of a lowlight, but I'm slowly learning how to deal with my mal de mer problem using such methods as drugs, lying on my back with my eyes closed and, well, thats pretty much all I've got. On the bright side, I'm over it in one and a half days.

3. Kite flying at sea. Nuff said.

4. Squally squalls. We ran into a lot of these during our days out on the ocean. Most of them we managed to skirt around the edge of, but we got caught in a couple that generated 30 knot winds and six foot seas. There's just not a lot you can do about these puppies except reef the sails and hope your electronics avoid lightening strike. We always put one reef in the main at night because you can't see them coming very well. One of the squalls even generated a waterspout, which is kind of like a mini water tornado snaking out of the thunderhead. It was kind of cool to look at from a distance, a very long distance. And of course, all I could think about afterward was 'what if we ran into one of those at night.'

5. Dolphins greeting us as we got into Roatan. More than a dozen followed us for 20 minutes. So cool! And hopefully the video works.

For those of you who might be making this trip, it took us about three and a half days to go the 250 miles. (And, yes, we are slow, but a full day of that was trying to get into Roatan, a lovely development that I will discuss further.) We headed south down the coast of Mexico staying close to the shore, and then after passing by the Chinchorro Banks, we headed straight for Honduras. Why not go straight to Roatan from Cozumel? Ahhh, because, as we've discovered, you might be out of the Gulf of Mexico, but the current that feeds into it is still going strong. There is a countercurrent between half a mile and a mile off the shore that we took advantage of during the daylight. 

Once you get past the Chinchorro Banks, though, the current curves out to sea which makes it possible to finally go in a straight line. All was well, despite squalls, up until we got to Roatan. Then, the wind picked up and was straight on our nose, and a strong current grabbed us, going in the opposite direction of course. And as luck would also have it, the engine overheated. We spent a frustrating 12 hours Thursday, from 4 a.m. to 4 p.m., trying to get into Roatan all the while looking directly at the lush tropical island. But doesn't that make anchoring all the sweeter? 

Negotiating a Reef Pass ... At Night

The view from our anchorage early this morning

Sailing through a reef pass at night is one of those classic "don't do this" sailing moves. And it's one of the big sailing no-nos for a reason. Because sailing through a reef pass at night when you can't see anything is stupid. Really, really stupid. I have to admit that in our case I'm exaggerating slightly. It wasn't quite nighttime. Just close. Really, really close.

So how did we find ourselves committing a major sailing sin? Well, we left Isla at noon after filling up our tanks, which gave us eight hours to make the 25 mile trip. If we averaged four knots, we would get there at about six with a couple of hours to spare. The wind looked good. We'd make it there fine. If, of course, it hadn't taken us three and a half hours to go the first five miles.

You see, we had an amazing sail. The water was turquoise and clear. It was a gorgeous day with perfect weather. But we made a couple of slight miscalculations. First of all, the wind wasn't being super cooperative, meaning that we were going against it. Not a problem. We can just tack. Unfortunately, the other miscalculation was a real doozy. Between Cancun and Isla Mujeres is a current that runs north anywhere between two to five knots. We were going south.

Once it hit 3:00, we came to our senses and turned on the engine. We still hadn't made it around Punta Cancun and into the Caribbean Sea, but with a little engine assist we made it past the point by 3:30 or 4:00. Once again, the sailing was incredible. We had a better wind direction, found a countercurrent and sat back to watch the Cancun skyline go by.

Alas, though, you cannot change physics. Despite the fact that we motor sailed the entire way, averaging five knots with the occasional jump to six, we just weren't going to make it to the anchorage at Puerto Morelos before the sun set. We were right along side the town as the sun went below the horizon in a last burst of orange and gold and pink, and we just cruised through the reef as the last vestiges of light said their final goodbyes, which while pretty was also incredibly nerve racking when all we could hear off the port side was the crashing of waves as the ocean met the shallow reef.

Then, we had to figure out how to get to the anchorage. In the dark. And that's when I realized that the two cruising guides I was using and the iPad with Navionics were completely wrong about Puerto Morelos. First of all, the whole group was wrong about the depth. By 15 feet in the wrong direction! Once again, it didn't really matter much because we still had 7 feet of water under our keel but still. Then, there was the marker buoy situation. The guides and Navionics each differed on how many buoys there were and where they were located, and they were all wrong, leaving us totally lost in the buoy department. It's very disorienting out on the water at night in unfamiliar places, and though we were able to see all of the unlit buoys, sitting stationary on the glittering water, it was, once again, disconcerting.

You'll be relieved to know that we did eventually wind up anchoring with the fishing boats off of the municipal pier, after which we collapsed in the cockpit. We did notice what looked like mooring balls further out but decided after an extremely short discussion that perhaps it would just be better to stay here with the pangas. They are cuter anyway. Then, Vlad made me a grilled cheese sandwich, and despite going to sailing hell for all the transgressions we committed today I have to say we had a great time.

Where to Next

I realized that we haven't been all that specific about our plans. Where are we headed next? What intrigue and insights await us? What new animals will there be to stalk? Photographically speaking, of course. More iguanas? Some chickens, perhaps? It's all an unknown out there, and that's what makes it exciting.

Tomorrow, we will be raising the anchor and moving on from Isla Mujeres, heading to the little fishing town of Puerto Morelos, then to Cozumel for some snorkeling and finally to check out the Mayan ruins in Tulum. From there, we haven't decided if we want to head straight to Panama or if we would rather go to the Bay Islands off of Honduras for a week before heading down. Right now, we're thinking Bay Islands, but that could change.

That's part of the fun of cruising, at least for us. Maybe other people are more OCD, but our plans are very fluid. They just kind of dissolve or come together depending on what suits us and our circumstances in the moment. It's not a bad way to travel, and if it wasn't for the dadgum hurricane season we'd be doing a lot more of it!

Crossing the Gulf of Mexico

Getting from Galveston to Key West isn't all puppy dogs and sunshine. The wind doesn't typically blow in your favor, and due to geology and the current the wave motion isn't particularly fun either. And, of course, you have to choose your weather window wisely. Currently, it's pouring outside, with rivulets of water running across the hatch. We were planning on heading out tomorrow, but we'll see.

Because the Gulf can be such a daunting proposition and it's our first offshore crossing, I asked some of the lovely ladies of this sailing group I belong to about what we should do to prepare. Here are their words of wisdom:

- Prepare meals ahead of time and bring lots of snacks, including ginger snaps for queasiness. 

- Get plenty of sleep! Thankfully, my older brother David is coming with us on the first crossing, so we should have a decent watch schedule. 

- Bring hot chocolate. Mmmm, hot chocolate. 

- Pack spare sheets and clothes in big zip locks so that you always have something dry.

- Have an amazing time!

We are going to implement all of these suggestions on our cruise, and especially the last one. Does anyone else have thoughts or advice?

Provisioning for a Cruise

Scary, isn't it?

You know that whole economy starting to rebound thing? Yeah, well, I think we might be causing it. We're in the process of purchasing a ton of stuff to get the boat and ourselves ready to sail away. We need a new anchor chain (shockingly expensive), a smorgasbord of safety equipment (PFDs, tethers, epirb, foul weather gear), a new handheld VHF and marine GPS, a new dinghy, new line, new clothes (shorts, swimsuits, sunglasses), and now ... our trip to Costco.

I've been wondering how we would handle provisioning for this trip. Do you take a ton of food? Or just buy food along the way? As you can see, we've gone with the former. When we finally got to the checkout line, it looked like we were getting prepared for a beach apocalypse, complete with swim fins. Seriously, I could barely push the cart.

We purchased 15 pounds of basmati rice; 20 pounds of flour; 10 pounds of sugar; 10 pounds of oatmeal; innumerable cans of soup, tuna, tomatoes, tomato paste, tomato sauce; chicken stock; 1 package of canned chicken (still dubious about this one); pasta; batteries; paper towels; Ziplocks; peanut butter; olive oil; white vinegar; toothpaste; grill lighters; coffee; and an impulse buy of prepackaged lentils (why not just buy regular lentils? I don't know! I kind of lost it toward the end).

We also got a great deal on snorkel gear, a 1.5 terabyte hard drive, new contacts for yours truly, and some really handy reading lights. Perhaps we've overdone it. It's certainly more money than I've ever spent on groceries in my life, but how do you say no to 20 pounds of organic flour for $10? I've read that you shouldn't bring the entire grocery store with you when you go, but, honestly, except for the canned chicken we will use all of the stuff we bought, just as long as we store it correctly to protect it from moisture and bugs. And to repeat my new mantra, now we just have to figure out where to put all this stuff.

Visitors Aboard

Vlad and our friend Dustin, who visited a couple of weekends ago

If you want to get people to come see you, tell your friends and family that you're leaving to cruise the world for a couple of years. We have been blessed with a ton of visitors lately - one group every weekend for the past month and even more to come - and it's amazing to share this experience with the folks we know best, to see their faces when they first step aboard. Sometimes they're enthusiastic and other times they have this amazed look like "how do you live in a 200-foot, plastic house that moves." But whatever the case, they have all been incredibly supportive of and excited about our grand trip. Plus, it gives them all an excellent reason to vacation in tropical islands!

When we first started planning this crazy adventure a year and a half ago, I was reading (and still am) everything I could about sailing and cruising. Perhaps it verged on obsession, but thank goodness I indulged because I found some invaluable information. One such article was by the folks over at Windtraveler, where I've found an immense amount of great information. This article focused on having guests aboard, and I think it covers pretty much all the bases. The only thing I can see that differs from our boat is that you should bring foul weather and snorkel gear because we don't have extra, and we are fine with making gluten-free meals.

Bettie, being a boat, doesn't have a ton of space. We don't have separate cabins or a shower or an electric toilet. Get ready for some pumping. It's not quite like camping because this is a home after all, but it's lacking some of the basic amenities that we take for granted in modern life. I guess we could remodel the boat to have separate cabins, and we could add a hot water heater for a shower. But that would cost extra money, money that would be better spent, in our opinion, on seeing the world. Even though we lack some creature comforts, we have an amazing time, have less stuff cluttering our lives (there's nowhere to put it!), get to spend all day, every day with each other and will have the opportunity to visit places and interact with people in ways that we never thought possible.

So to all our future visitors, thank you for gracing our lives. Don't be apprehensive about the lack of space, and please bring shower shoes, at least while we live in the marina!

Best Deckhands Ever!

If you can't tell, Bettie is a pretty popular spot these days. Our friends, Matt and Cassidy, came to visit this weekend, which makes four weekends in a row with fantastic visitors.

We actually got to go sailing due to a brief respite in the February rain. Matt and Cassidy were rocking deckhands, even though they didn't have much boating experience, and I can't wait to have them visit us in some exotic locale. Plus, no one threw up! Of course, we also didn't eat breakfast at IHOP (Sorry, Dustin and Shelby!). As it was, we had an amazing sail for Vlad's birthday with good wind and a touch of sunshine, and we saw this way cool shrimp trawler. I love spotting these things in the bay because they're always trailed by a swarm of belligerent seagulls.

We, once again, stuffed ourselves on fresh seafood from the fish monger, played music in the cockpit, rode rides at the amusement park along, and basically wore ourselves completely out. Here's what Matt and Cassidy looked like right before they left - adorable, but in need of a nap. Especially you, Matt.

Thanks for coming to visit, guys! We'll see you in Aruba. And thanks for the ride on the Ferris wheel. It was a nice change of pace to ride on the wheel rather than to operate it.

Invasion of the Friendly Pirates

We've been invaded by pirates. Friendly, domino playing pirates.

Bettie's been blessed with visitors recently. A few days after my brothers left, our friends, Dustin and Shelby, came down from Austin to hang out with us for the weekend, sampling the joys of the Boardwalk, I.H.O.P. and some cold weather sailing. Unfortunately for us, the sailing was post I.H.O.P., and no one looked particularly pleased about it. The temperature was in the low 50s with the wind gusting out of the North, and we were feeling, well, not so spry. As you can see from the photos, at one time or another everyone aboard tried to fall asleep in the sunshine. We were so lazy we didn't even put the mainsail up. Slackers!

To top off the malaise, Dustin and Shelby didn't feel so great. Evidently, choppy waves and greasy breakfasts don't mix well. Sorry about that, guys! But we learned another lesson, and at least this time there was no duct tape involved, a baby step in the right direction.

Nevertheless, the visit rocked. How could it do anything else when you're wearing bright orange life vests for no reason?! And I won the dominoes game. Again. Those boys really need to learn how to throw them bones. 

Mas Racing

See that boat in the background? We passed them!!

We went out for yet another race on Saturday. Even though we've been working on an ever growing pile of boat projects, Vlad and I have decided that racing with our awesome neighbors is most certainly worth the time. Just from going out a couple of times with some experienced sailors, we've learned invaluable information on sail trim, sail combinations, wind direction, working as a team while tacking and this week, alas, losing.

Yep, you heard right. We got schooled on Saturday's race. Our intrepid captain started out on the starboard tack (yes, I've learned what that means too), thinking we could get closer to the first mark and pick up the shore wind. That was some serious strategic thinking. Unfortunately, that fickle beast known as the wind refused to cooperate. 

The view from the back of the pack.

And to make matter worse, we blew out the napkin! Our secret weapon, our power animal, our tiny little spinnaker gone with one snap of the sheet! Of course, we are racing in a heavy cruising boat against J boats and light-weight coastal cruisers, so perhaps it's not that surprising that we came in pretty close to last this time what with the uncooperative wind. We will just have to wait until the races start up again in March to redeem ourselves.

Remember, kids, always put two turns around the winch.

And this time I was the wounded warrior! In moment of short-sightedness, I didn't put the spinnaker sheet around the winch before we popped the chute. Rookie mistake, but, hey, I'm a rookie. Have you ever had a line yanked through your hands by 16 knot winds while you stupidly try to hang onto it? It might not sound like much, but let me just say that it burns. I mean, really, really burns. By the time we got back to the dock, I was like one of those cartoon characters pouring aspirin into my mouth straight from the bottle. Vlad patched me up with some burn cream and an ice pack and even more duct tape. We've really got to stop using duct tape on our wounds. And I'm getting some sailing gloves.

On Your Mark. Get Set. Sailboat Race!

One of the many J boats bearing down on us.

On Saturdays in Galveston Bay, the water is teeming with sailboats, and a majority of them are not just out for a leisurely day sail. They are racing, and Vlad and I got the chance to race with them for the first time this weekend on our friends' sailboat - the same friends who have the J-22 spinnaker, fondly known as the "napkin," on their 37-foot or so boat.

Needless to say, I was overcome with excitement at the thought of racing. For one thing, I don't know what I'm doing, and for another I'd heard that racing captains yell a lot. Who could want anything more on a Saturday morning?

Alas, there wasn't a ton of wind. At one point we got into a hole (a windless area) and were only going 2 knots. That equates to about 2 miles an hour, which means that I walk faster than we were racing. It's amazing that people make it around the world in these things.

Most of the time, however, we were at about 5 to 5.5 knots, and the day was not without it's share of tension. Going around the marks, which in Galveston Bay are abandoned oil platforms, with twenty boats all crunched in next to you and a J boat shooting between you and the rusted steel pilings can be a little hairy. Here's what it looked like behind us after the first mark:

 
And we got to fly the napkin!

The famous napkin. My mom calls it the hanky.

Evidently, a real spinnaker looks like this:

And the race claimed a victim - Vlad's knee. Kids, this is what happens when you don't have Band-Aids.

For my first race, I have to say that all my criteria were met. I learned more about sail trim, about how to watch the wind (that sounds so zen!) and about how to avoid collisions. And I got yelled at! But only enough to make me feel like we were really racing.

Sailing with a Spinnaker, Sort of

The napkin! Er, I mean, spinnaker.

After a spine wrenching Saturday working on the dreaded toerail, Vlad and I took a much needed break and went for a sail with our dock neighbors. They had received a J-22 spinnaker and wanted to see what it would do on their Westerly.

This was a bit of an experiment for the following reasons. A spinnaker is a very light sail, used in light air, downwind sailing, and is typically quite large compared to the size of the boat. But the spinnaker for a 22-foot boat is evidently really small for a 37-foot boat, so when we popped it out there it looked like a napkin fluttering in the breeze.

Having never flown a spinnaker before, I thought this was the greatest thing I'd ever seen. It sounds like crepe paper, and you can fly it like a kite! And napkin or not, we got an extra 3/4 of a knot out of it. Needless to say, now I want one. Here's a few more pics from our sail in Galveston Bay:

Vlad at the helm.

Clouds over Galveston Bay.

Just Say No to Boat Shoes

Perhaps the ugliest shoes ever created. But, hey, at least they tone your butt!

As we've been preparing for this trip, Vlad and I have been trying to figure out what boating stuff we need and what we don't. One of those items is boat shoes. My thought has been, "I guess we need them. I mean, everyone else has them." As you can tell from the title, I'm rethinking my logic.

Over the weekend, we were looking to replace Vlad's blown out flip flops, but the shoe store was chock full of on-sale boat shoes just begging to be tried on. There were leather, canvas, plaid, tan, navy, striped and slip-on varieties. And I just want to say, in my defense, that I really tried to like them. I really tried. I put on every type, and not only were they not comfortable, but they also looked kind of silly on me. For Vlad, it was even worse.

Maybe it's the black socks, but boat shoes just didn't work. And I honestly don't even want to think about what leather shoes soaked in salt water would smell like after a few months. I know that they are supposed to be better for decks due to the nonmarking soles, and maybe this means we can't be real sailors. But I'm saying no to boat shoes. 

Sailing, New Mexican Style

We will be in New Mexico for Christmas, and one thing that state is not known for is its beach front property. Though there are a few lakes where folks go sailing, the land of enchantment is just that - a lot of really dry land. But that just means people have to get creative! Here's a video of what I mean:

Sailing in Fog

This is what we woke up to this morning - fog hanging over the marina. Since I am a conservative sailor (translation: a total wimp), my approach to sailing in fog would be to not sail in fog. But since I can't control the weather, it's important to know a few things about navigating through pea soup.

• Reduce your speed. This seems obvious, but if you can't see where you're going, don't haul butt. The slower your speed, the easier it will be to adjust course if you spot an obstacle.
• Make noise. And that doesn't mean just cranking up the ACDC. If your boat is longer than 39 ft. and you are under sail, you are required to give out one long blast followed by two short blasts every couple of minutes. If you're under power, it's just one long blast. Smaller boats also should make some type of noise every two minutes but are not required to follow a set honking structure. 
• Use those electronic devices. Though they can't tell you everything and occasionally break, devices such as radar and GPS units come in very handy when sailing through fog. The GPS lets you know where you are even when you can't see your hand in front of your face, and the radar alerts you to possible obstacles. Admittedly, electronics are not essential and are certainly no substitute to the human brain, but they can be a helpful tool, especially in situations where you can't rely on one or more of your senses.

Here's an article on Sailnet, that gives more information on sailing in fog. And here's another photo that I've titled "Rollercoaster in the Mist." 

When to Turn Back

Recently, one of our marina neighbors set off for non-Texas ports, but while traversing the Gulf, which is notorious for being like sailing in a washing machine, they encountered numerous system failures and a nasty bout of seasickness. If just one thing had gone wrong, they might have kept going, but faced with more things breaking by the minute and not so great weather they made the choice to return to the dock, fix the broken hardware and wait for a better weather window.

Knowing when to turn around is a delicate art. One the one hand, you want to reach your destination. You've invested time, money and hours of labor into fulfilling this dream, and all you really want to do is explore distant lands, wander on tropical shores dodging coconuts, and swim through cyclones of zebra fish off the coast of Australia.

But (and there's always a "but," isn't there?) sometimes you have to turn back, and the trick is recognizing that point before the Coast Guard has to get involved. They say that true disasters usually aren't caused by just one mistake, but a series of problems that compound into a major, possibly life-threatening, event. So when one thing goes wrong, no problem. Fix it and move on. But multiples? Not so great, especially when you throw a good dose of fatigue into the mix.


While we can be prepared, we can't control every situation, and I hope that when Vlad and I head out we, too, will be able to know when it's time to turn around.

An Ode to My Big Brother

The first time I ever went sailing was with my brother on Bull Shoals Lake in North Central Arkansas. We spent an entire day out on the lake, flipping his Laser over (on purpose!), playing in the water and running from a thunderstorm that had rumbled down from Missouri. Maybe it was the combination of the wind and the water and the quiet or maybe it was because my big brother did it. But whatever the case, I loved sailing.

My brother has been sailing all his life, and I mean that literally. He was born in Gibraltar after my mother and her first husband had crossed the Atlantic in a 36' sailboat, and he spent the next two years cruising across the Atlantic and then into the Pacific. He learned how to walk on the boat, which meant that his first land-based attempt resulted in several face plants, and was infamous for throwing things overboard like hammers. Plus, there are pictures of him riding on a Galapagos turtle. I mean, what could be a cooler way to grow up?

So it was very exciting for me to have him come to stay on our boat for Thanksgiving. He taught me a ton of tricks and made me feel more confident and comfortable about our big adventure. And true to form he's still throwing things overboard ... like our winch handle.

Sailing in Galveston Bay Photo Montage!

So this isn't technically a montage, but I annoyed everyone on our boat so much by paparazzi-ing them doing mundane tasks like steering the boat with their knee while sipping on cheap Mexican beer that I figured I should at least add in a few more photos from our Thanksgiving Galveston Bay sailing extravaganza. Hope you enjoy them!

Sailing with Family

My dad and my brother came to visit us over Thanksgiving, and it was a joy to be able to share in this adventure with them. If you can't tell from the way my dad is gripping the tiller with both hands, he has been a little concerned about our new lifestyle choice, and I think this trip gave him at least a modicum of reassurance that our boat actually floats. My brother, on the other hand, was practically born on a sailboat and looked as though he had finally returned to his natural habitat.

We took them on two sails around Galveston Bay, dropped anchor once and ate lunch and generally had an all around grand time. We even went wing on wing for the first time ever! I felt so fancy.

And as an added bonus, we got to see the sun set over the amusement park. Definitely, fun times with family.