Island Time

IMPORTANT MESSAGE: Our communications have changed now that we are in the Caribbean.  Our cell phones are OFF so please do not call or text us.  We have satellite phones, but they are expensive to use.  The best ways to get in touch with us:

Erica email: conwaysailors@gmail.com

Chris email: cwchhk@gmail.com

Skype: erica.conway (don’t always have enough bandwidth for video, but can instant message and have voice calls very easily.  Send us a message and we can catch up!)

Facebook: send messages on our fanpage: conwaysailors.com

our new backyard. and front yard.

Red Hook, St. Thomas, US Virgin Islands: November 12-14

Soper’s Hole, Tortola, British Virgin Islands, November 15-16

“Oh my”, I thought .  “I live in the Caribbean.”  It hit me just like that, at an ice cream shop (obviously) as I was sitting at an outside table, licking my ice cream cone tonight.  I was watching the cars go by, looking at the businesses and street signs, and noticing the people walking down the sidewalk.  And I realized that I wasn’t looking around with the eyes of a tourist.  I was looking at my new home.  I live here.

Of course, everything is so very different than back in Ho-Ho-Kus (did I really have to say that?). The cars are beat up and despite the heat, the windows are rolled down and young men are smoking (cigarettes?) and blasting reggae music.  They drive on the left side of the street here.  The buildings are a mish-mosh of concrete, barred windows, and add-ons that weren’t necessarily designed by an architect.  Chainlink fences abound.  As I walk down the street, I am asked twenty times if I need a taxi ride.  Music is blaring from several bars.  There is a party feeling in the air.  And it’s Tuesday.

So why do I feel so at home?  The summer of cruising the northeast was lovely, and very familiar.  Beautiful harbors, great people, lots of nature, and adorable villages were the norm.  But the Caribbean is what I had in mind when I asked Chris to move onto our boat- that we didn’t yet own.  Being in the BVIs last year with our friends Bryson and Cindy was something special.  I saw, in one short week, what their life was like, living in the Caribbean for 6 months each year.  The pace of life is not just slower- it breathes with you.  The goal each day is…well, there IS no goal.  Each day grows with you and evolves as you do.  You meet each moment with your full attention and end up doing more, experiencing more, connecting more, and living more, than if you had made a detailed itinerary that planned every moment.  That resonated with me.  Bryson and Cindy inspired me.  And here I am, on the brink of immersing myself in what they call “Island Time”.

Celebratory Dinner at Island Time in St. Thomas

Of course, it will take a bit of transitioning.  We arrived at 0930 on Monday the 12th and we were all completely hyped up about completing our trip.  After showers and lunch, we dug into the work of cleaning up the boat after 8 days at sea.  Laundry, cleaning, washdowns, taking out the garbage, filling water tanks, and reorganizing the depleted storage lockers took most of the day.  We all crashed after a celebratory dinner at Island Time (yup), complete with my first Painkiller of the trip.

For those unfamiliar, a Painkiller is the signature drink of the Soggy Dollar Bar, located in White Bay, on Jost Van Dyke, my favorite place in the British Virgin Islands, and involves Pusser’s Rum, pineapple juice, orange juice, cream of coconut, and freshly ground nutmeg.  It is delicious and packs quite a punch, so one is plenty for me.  While I am not a big drinker, this will NOT be the last time you hear me going on and on about Painkillers.  I was excited to find orange juice in cans in St. Thomas so that I can make them onboard (no room in fridge for things like oj).

As it had been at least 2 hours since my last adventure, I found myself in another one on the dock.  I was talking to Lana and Dave on the phone and had to walk up and down the dock to get decent service on the phone.  I heard footsteps, like a dog’s, and looked down at a giant iguana walking towards me.  I started running down the dock and found a bench to climb up on.  The men standing around thought this was pretty hilarious.  One of them picked up the iguana and brought him over to me, asking if I wanted to pet it.  Clearly, this guy has trouble reading body language cues.  I screamed at him as he thrust the iguana towards me.  Finally, he put him down a few yards away and the iguana started walking away from us.  As soon as I set my feet on the ground, the iguana spun around and charged at me!  Back up on the bench I went, screaming at the top of my lungs.  He could have easily gotten up on the bench, but thankfully he jumped in the water instead.  He must have gotten the message from the flies in Maine that I taste good…

As we settled in, I realized sadly that we would have to bid farewell to my dad.  We had our self-caught mahi mahi dinner on Tuesday night, which was a great way to put a close on our adventure.  He flew home on Wednesday morning after an unforgettable journey.  I know that none of us will ever forget this special time we all had together.

With dad safely home, the water tanks filled, and our groceries restocked (at literally stomach-turning high prices), we left St. Thomas and sailed towards paradise.

Reese announces our departure from St. Thomas, island-style

In a few hours, we pulled into Soper’s Hole, Tortola, in the British Virgin Islands.  We raised our BVI courtesy flag, which is a small country flag that is raised up the mast to pay respect to the country you are visiting.  We also flew the quarantine flag until we cleared customs and immigration.

We took the dinghy off the bow of the boat after its safe passage from the US.  Off I went with our boat documents and passports to check in to our first country.  The officials were very helpful as I filled in pages of forms and paid $20.  Our passports were stamped and I was told that we were welcome to stay for four weeks.  If we want to stay longer (yes, please), we will need to apply for an extension.  We will need to take a trip to Spanishtown before December 14th to take care of that little bit of business, as we plan to stay in the BVIs until New Year’s Eve.  Jost Van Dyke is the place to be on New Year’s Eve, so we now have one thing on our calendar between now and then.

We spent the rest of the day enjoying Soper’s Hole and it’s shops, having lunch at Pusser’s, and swimming off the boat.  Chris made tuna tacos with the blackfin tuna we caught.  He seared small chunks of it as an appetizer and we savored the fresh deliciousness with just salt and pepper.  Yum.  I think we are going to adjust to Island Time just fine…

the kids in their favorite spot, on the boom

Passagemakers, Part II

Please enjoy more photos from our passage from Morehead City, NC to St. Thomas, USVI!  Excuse that they are out of order.  Way too busy enjoying the Bitter End Yacht Club with the Salty Dawgs to be my usual precise self.  Thanks so much for all your support, excitement, and comments!

Porter helps Chris use the satellite phone to pull in grib files and our weather routing service emails

Reese finishes reading up on places to visit in the Virgin Islands

Enjoying the phosphorescence show at night

The kids playing together up on deck. PJs all day mean less laundry:)

Chris survived on Triscuits, circus peanuts, peanut butter balls, and tea.

Bryson and Bestefar (grandfather, in Norwegian)

one more…

Bryson and Erica at the 600 mile mark

We were all amazed at how easily Porter moved around the boat in the heavy seas and rolling waves.

Trying to eat healthy.

Our permanent deck fixture

tryinig to get a signal on the satellite phone to check in with our safety team at home

Porter eating carrots. Probably because someone promised him Halloween Candy if he had a healthy snack.

little did he know that his Hostess cupcake days were numbered…

Chris lands a fish

“driving” the boat

enjoying every moment of our time together

Chris burning the ends of a rope to avoid fraying

“after”: Bryson and Porter’s cabin is trashed after 8 days

“after” main saloon not too bad

“after” foul weather gear everywhere.

the instruments: providing hours of nighttime entertainment

Porter enjoys his new workbook while bracing himself against the heel of the boat

Reese and her knot of a hairdo, resting on her math workbook

Chris helps Bryson with his math

Bestefar and his chart work, plotting our lat and longitude

Gift of the Day: school theme (workbook, calculator, and pencil sharpener)

Porter reads the Scroll of Grievances from the Mutiny: watches are too long, not enough food, etc, etc:)

the captain takes a well-deserved break

Breakfast of Champions. Bryson eats oatmeal every morning

Mema’s mac and cheese, sliding all over the galley. that’s what the high lip on the counter is for

Reesie-Teesie and I having Ramen as we recover from a bout of seasickness

Big seas. Warning: this appears way scarier in person!

Buckle up!

Uh Oh. I hope there isn’t anything important left on all those To Do Lists!

Saying goodbye to the mainland USA until next June

Bryson throws off the docklines in Morehead City, NC

Reese can’t pull her nose out of her book as we approach St. Thomas

Happy Smurf still smiling after 8 days of seasickness. Trooper.

Approaching St. Thomas. Full of gratitude to the sea for a safe voyage.

The moon and a star. Friends of mine one night.

Kissing the ground (er, dock) upon arrival.

I. Love. the. Ocean. always have. always will. It is home to me.  Thank you for shepherding us safely to new adventures…

 

 

Passagemakers, Part I

Passage: North Carolina, USA to St. Thomas, USVI

November 4-12

(Part II will include the best pictures, including all the fun snapshots and some beautiful landscape photos.  Be sure to check it out as well.)

“Who can say what the ocean is, what sailing feels like?  When a cat’s paw comes stealing on a calm day, dark and gleaming over the breathing sea, and my boat begins to move, to trail her V, to come to life-what is it but a caress, a magic touch, a stirring.  When the wind heels her to the chainplates, when the wind screams so that she must bow her head and give with a blast in order to live, it is a passion exceeding sense or logic or understanding.  The ocean is like love, immense, omnipotent, moody, nothing, everything.”  Elliot Merrick, Cruising At Last

8 days. 1 hour. 15 minutes. 1,441.08 miles.

Well, we did it. The emotions following our passage are still sinking in.  Distance sailing is like any other endurance test.  You prepare for it.  You think you are ready.  You tell yourself that you can do this.  How bad could it possibly be?  And then you set out, and things get hairy.  Exhaustion sets in.  You are convinced that the pain will never end.  You are convinced that you will probably die out there.  And then, somehow, after hours, or days, you find yourself closing in on the end.  You get an incredible rush of energy.  You suddenly feel like you could do the whole thing over again if you felt like it.  The finish is here.  You stop moving.  And, as the adrenaline wears off and your body reminds you that it is NOT HAPPY with what you just did to it, you swear you will never, ever contemplate such shenanigans in the future.  But just like White Castle and childbirth, the memory fades a bit, and someday, you think, “It wasn’t soooo bad.  I could do that again…”

Our voyage was, in many ways, not typical of the endurance tests I have completed in the past.  I have done long distance sailing races, though none this long.  I have cycled long distances, but even my century ride only lasted a single day.  And yet, I found this trip to be the least taxing, both physically and psychologically.  Our trip lasted 8 days, 1 hour, and 15 minutes.  We traveled 1,441.08 miles from Morehead City, North Carolina to St. Thomas, USVI.  Our route took us south, then east across the Gulf Stream, and then southeast until we hit the tradewinds, which took us south to the islands.  (Due to the fact that our passage was long with lots of hard work and exhaustion, my memories do not seem to be in chronological order.  Bear with me and forgive any inaccuracies when I mention times and days.)

my dad on watch

We had a crew of 6 people: Chris, me, my dad (Bruce), and the kids: Bryson, Reese, and Porter.  The kids kept normal hours, sleeping at night and playing/eating/reading/etc during the day.  We had to skip boatschooling for the week, because I was busy sailing and the seas were too rough for them to work anyway.  My dad and I were on a watch schedule: four hours on, four hours off.  While he steered the boat, I was resting, and vice versa.  Chris was a floater and was available anytime either of us needed him to assist with sail trim, course changes, or other issues.  He spent a lot of time checking the weather, examining our course, and fixing things as they broke.  He also did all the hand steering whenever the weather got rough.  In fact, now that I think about it, I didn’t touch the wheel once during the whole trip.  That’s hilarious!

we are amazed at how photos don’t nearly capture the size and power of the seas. this rogue wave nearly toppled over us

It takes a full day and a half to get used to being on a long passage.  In this case, it was trial by fire, because within the first day, we hit the Gulf Stream, which was a disaster due to Hurricane Sandy and the impending Nor’easter, as well as other magical, mysterious meteorological factors that I don’t understand.  As a result, the Gulf Stream had 10 foot seas, in a confused pattern that created a pyramid effect.  Rogue waves measured at least 15 feet.  We were all a little seasick, except my dad, who would eventually earn the Iron Stomach Award.

Porter literally huddles in a ball by the companionway, sleeping off the seasickness

Add to this joyful situation some squalls (heavy winds and rains with lightning and thunder) and you’ve got yourself a gen-u-ine ocean passage.  The foul weather gear was out.  The lifejackets were donned.  We were tethered to jacklines while up on deck.  All three kids and myself got sick over the side and the hours dragged.  Eventually, we left the Gulf Stream and the conditions got better.  I decided to apply a seasickness patch, and I was thrilled to find that the results are immediate and complete.  I felt fine for the remainder of the trip.

the “Mutiny”!

We had to motorsail on the second day for a bit to settle the boat through the confused seas.  On the third day, we motored for a bit when the winds died down to 3 knots.  At that point, “Time” gets a little fuzzy.  What is a day when you are up three times and asleep three times within 24 hours?  I remember we enjoyed sunny skies and calmer weather at one point as well as some on-board entertainment.  My dad and Kathy had put together a “mutiny” skit that he and the kids performed, complete with costumes, pirate names and scrolls.  It was hilarious and really boosted all our spirits.

riding out the squalls at night. i don’t even remember who took this picture!

That night, the conditions worsened  and we dealt with more squalls.  At 0530, our storm jib halyard broke, again. (It broke on our last passage.)  In exactly the same spot.  It was all hands on deck in the dark while dad steered and Chris and I pulled the sail out of the water, unhooked it, and lashed it down to the deck.  The morning brought more squalls, but the winds became steady and we were making great time.  As rough as the seas were, I was hanging in there psychologically.  I knew that the stronger the winds, the faster we would get there.  The more the better (up until 30 knots, and then I start getting a little scared).

Porter LOVED his dinner from Mema!

We enjoyed chicken and rice one night, which Kathy made for us and froze before the trip.  All we had to do was heat it up in the oven.  We had a visit from a flying fish, who flew right into the cockpit.  They are very small and cute.  I also spent an hour combing windblown knots out of Reese’s hair.  We decided at that point to keep her hair in a ponytail under a hat for the remainder of the trip!  Each watch was filled with random moments like this scattered amongst hours of just driving the boat.

the flying fish, who flew right into the cockpit!

clipping in at night and when alone and in bad weather (or in this case, all three!)

Two more days went by and we finally got to fly our new spinnaker.  We also got to broach with our new spinnaker.  Broaching was not nearly as terrible as on the raceboats we are used to, but it is disconcerting nonetheless.  The winds were gusting to 30 knots, so we decided to take it down.  Good thing, because we had 30 knots throughout the night with 8-10’ seas.  It was scary being up on deck by myself that night.

Poor Bryson slept on deck most nights because going down below was too uncomfortable

Speaking of night watches, my watches were 0800-noon, 1600-2000 (4pm-8pm), and midnight-0400.  Unlike Chris and my dad, when I was off-watch, I was IN BED.  If I haven’t mentioned my penchant for sleeping (ha ha) then I will tell you now that my body loves getting nine hours of sleep a night.  Preferably all in a row.  The quality of sleep you get on a watch system is clearly not great.  Because I can get seasick, being down below decks was not always comfortable.  Sleeping in my cabin, up forward, was out of the question.  The front of the boat is the worst place you can be.  The movements there are more intense than anywhere else on the boat.  So I had to sleep with the kids in their cabin, or lie perched on the couch in the main saloon, which was not very comfortable when on starboard tack, and impossible when on port tack.  Because I had to be ready to be on deck at any moment, I had to stay in my sailing clothes 24/7.  Add to this the dank, wet, hot conditions down below, and sleeping became a true challenge.

almost to 1,000!

One of my favorite moments from the passage was hitting 1,000 miles.  It takes about 10 minutes to go one mile on our sailboat, as we average 6-7 knots in decent wind.  I had been staring at our trip meter for days and couldn’t wait to see it turn to 1,000.  In addition, my dad, the kids, and I would all qualify to join the Ocean Cruising Club at that moment, since they only accept members who have done a non-stop ocean passage of 1,000 miles or more (Chris qualified in 1993 when he completed the TransAtlantic Race).  We were all looking forward to this momentous occasion and we chose to send out two Message in a Bottles, a gift from the Batt family back at home.  We loved the idea of sending out a message from 1,000 miles out to sea, and hope that someone finds one of them and gets in touch with us someday.

offering the sea our Message in a Bottle

We caught several fish on our trip: 2 mahi mahi, a blackfin tuna, and one that we couldn’t identify.  The kids loved being the first to yell, “Fish On!” when the reel started spinning.  We enjoyed our fish dinner when we got to St. Thomas.  The day we caught our first fish, I gave the kids a puzzle of the Fish of the Atlantic Ocean.  They enjoyed getting a little gift each day of the passage.  I hoped it would bring a smile to their faces and help with boredom.  As it turned out, they did great despite the rough conditions.  The biggest hit was the colored duct tape, which is the newest thing apparently.  The kids use it to make all sorts of origami-type projects.  It kept them busy for hours.  They also enjoyed the school supplies, which surprised me.

Gift of the Day, as if you can do a 1,000 piece puzzle on a heeled boat in the ocean

I know I have beat the water horse to death on this website, but we only have 220 gallons of fresh water on our boat and this had to last us the whole trip, obviously.  With 6 people, we had to be very careful with our water consumption.  We washed our hands with baby wipes and were conservative about all other water usage. 

getting the windblown knots out in a Home Depot bucket of salt water. Toto, we’re not at my Chateau Salon anymore…

But by Wednesday, I absolutely had to take a shower.  I hadn’t taken one since Saturday.  I took a salt water shower and treated myself to a ten second fresh water rinse on the swim platform.  On the second to last day, I knew we were going to have enough water, so I took a very short shower in the head.  It should have qualified as a full-contact sport.  I still have bruises from trying not to get thrown all over the place!

trying to serve dinner at a 20 degree heel.

Still, the whole process was much more comfortable than in a race boat, which doesn’t have the amenities of a cruising boat.  Like a separate room for the head.  And real bunks.  I tried to maintain some semblance of my typical routine, like brushing my teeth right before bed and as soon as I woke up; eating breakfast at the beginning of my 0800 shift, and making a hot dinner each night.  We did manage this on all but two nights, which were way too rough to cook.

Lasagna Night, served up fancy in bowls

Me and my instruments…

I liked the start of my watches.   I would come up on deck, food in hand, and take a look around.  I always had high hopes that we had miraculously traveled great distances since four hours before.  My dad would fill me in on what happened during his watch and I would sit down at the chartplotter to study the numbers.  What is our boat speed, wind speed, and wind direction?  What is our Latitude and Longitude?  Where are we on the chart? How far have we traveled and how many miles is it to St. Thomas?  If I zoom in one level, can I still see our boat AND St. Thomas on the screen?  By the time I finished playing with the chartplotter, I had usually burned up at least a half hour.  By the 6th night, I was having full-on conversations with the chartplotter.  Our relationship had gone to the next level, and I found myself saying, “Really?! So you’re telling me we still have 99 hours and 99 minutes to go?  Or do you just not have enough digits to tell me the truth?”  I decided to back off a bit and listen to some nice, relaxing music.

ready to go off watch in the early morning. listening to my ipod to stay awake.

night view, fading fast into darkness

Then I would start looking around, as if there would be anything to see except ocean, ocean, ocean, as far as the eye could see.  And if it was nighttime, all I could see was nothing at all.  I think we saw four boats the entire time: two freighters and two sailboats.  On the last night, I came up on deck for my watch at midnight and my dad pointed to a red light in the distance.  A boat!  We used our knowledge of nighttime lighting to determine that it was a sailboat, headed in the same direction as we were, and slightly behind us, as we could not see his white light.  We decided to hail him on the VHF: “This is the sailing vessel Patronus, sailing south, 80 miles north of St. Thomas hailing the sailing vessel due east of us.  Come in,” and the skipper answered right away!  He sounded so clear.  It was the first voice outside of our own that we had heard in 7 days.  You would have thought we were the crew of the SS Minnow, making contact with rescuers after 7 seasons on Gilligan’s Island.  We chatted for a bit and discovered he was also headed for Red Hook, St. Thomas.  The whole situation was very entertaining and I had fun staring at his red light the rest of my watch, just for something different to do…

Land Ho!

As that night wore on, I realized that I would only have one more watch and then I could sleep for the rest of my life if I wanted to!  We got to say “Land Ho!” before my dad took over at 0400.  We saw the lights of St. Thomas in the distance.   It was hard to sleep because everything was so grungy on the boat.  I was somehow more appalled than I was tired.  I just laid on top of the sheets and tried to breathe without smelling.  Everything we owned had been damp for 8 days and we couldn’t open any hatches/portholes because the waves would have gotten in.  It was a seriously bad scene.

Captain Chris brings us in safely

When I got up at 0830 (Chris was up so I snuck in an extra half hour), the mountains of the Caribbean had sprung up all around us.  It looked absolutely breathtaking.  We were all feeling excited and were celebrating with pictures and video.  The kids were up on deck and perched in their favorite spot: up on the boom.  As Chris skillfully pulled into the dock in heavy winds, I thought about how much we had accomplished, how lucky we were to have such a smooth passage, and how wonderful it had been to share that experience with my dad.  Most of all, I was filled with intense pride.  Our children had completed a true ocean passage.  Not many people can say they have done that, and they were wonderful every minute of the way.  Despite seasickness, they did not complain once about a thing.  They kept busy, slept well, ate well, and played together constantly.

Reese and Porter playing together one morning

All that was left was to fill out our applications for the Ocean Cruising Club.  Oh, and take a real shower.  Do laundry.  Wash every single thing on that boat.  And sleep…. Only then will I remember that all this has led to spending our winter cruising the islands of the Caribbean.