Today is the last day that Elias is six. We spent the day on two snorkel outings, both on the outer side of the reef protecting our anchorage - not the open ocean by any means, but water 1 to 15 meters deep and a long way from shore. And Elias was completely at ease - diving down as deep as he could, over and over, unfazed by the waves slopping into his face when he came up for air, showing no anxiety when he drifted apart from me.
He still plays with stuffed animals, but his abilities in the larger world are growing day by day.
Sunday, August 4, 2013
Saturday, August 3, 2013
Cruising Tip!
When you catch a double-lined mackerel and decide that the carcass would make good bait - EVEN if your fridge is good and cold AND the tupperware you use for storage is well-sealed - DON'T put it in the fridge! You'll be smelling it long after the bait has been jettisoned overboard.
Thursday, August 1, 2013
What a Great Husband!
The whole family was out in their wetties - all four of us, ankle to wrist in black neoprene, putting out to the snorkeling grounds in Smooches. After Elias and I had been purposefully thrashing around for an hour or so, and Alisa and Eric had alternately been "snorkeling" and playing with a squirt gun in the anchored dinghy, the threatening clouds around us turned into an open-the-heavens tropical deluge.
I was ruing the fact that although we had the deck awning set up on Galactic, I hadn't run the rain-collecting hoses into the water tanks. We were planning on filling the tanks with the not-great-tasting well water when we returned to town and it would have been nice to dilute that with a few hundred liters of rain. When you're collecting water outside a convergence zone in the tropics, everything depends on catching the infrequent deluge. But who knew that this would be one of the days for a deluge? The guy who describes himself as "NOT a meteorologist" when he does the weather on the VHF net had predicted a clear afternoon.
When Elias and I got back to the dinghy Alisa and Eric were shivering in the downpour. Just as you might expect, the rain pelted down until we got back to Galactic, then eased. Alisa had been concerned that the hatches, closed but not dogged, would have let the rain in, but I wasn't worried.
When we got back to Galactic we were greeted by respectable puddles on the sole. The hatches had let in a bit of water, but the real culprit was the galley portlight I had left wide open. The two fresh-baked loaves that had been sitting on the stove were total losses and jettisoned overboard. The stove was awash as were all the pots and pans and other galley gear beneath. The two boys were shivering after their post-swim outdoor showers and needing the comforts of the cabin, but the cabin would need some attention before it could offer comfort.
Alisa's usual good humor was suddenly nowhere in evidence. I assessed the scene and decided I should get scarce. Perhaps if I went out and caught a fish I would redeem myself?
I came back an hour later, without a fish. But I found the cabin cleaned up and the boys dressed and warm and the cook's good humor back in place.
Later, I shared an insight with Alisa. "What a great husband I must be!" I said. "If leaving a portlight open counts as a major screw-up for me."
I was ruing the fact that although we had the deck awning set up on Galactic, I hadn't run the rain-collecting hoses into the water tanks. We were planning on filling the tanks with the not-great-tasting well water when we returned to town and it would have been nice to dilute that with a few hundred liters of rain. When you're collecting water outside a convergence zone in the tropics, everything depends on catching the infrequent deluge. But who knew that this would be one of the days for a deluge? The guy who describes himself as "NOT a meteorologist" when he does the weather on the VHF net had predicted a clear afternoon.
When Elias and I got back to the dinghy Alisa and Eric were shivering in the downpour. Just as you might expect, the rain pelted down until we got back to Galactic, then eased. Alisa had been concerned that the hatches, closed but not dogged, would have let the rain in, but I wasn't worried.
When we got back to Galactic we were greeted by respectable puddles on the sole. The hatches had let in a bit of water, but the real culprit was the galley portlight I had left wide open. The two fresh-baked loaves that had been sitting on the stove were total losses and jettisoned overboard. The stove was awash as were all the pots and pans and other galley gear beneath. The two boys were shivering after their post-swim outdoor showers and needing the comforts of the cabin, but the cabin would need some attention before it could offer comfort.
Alisa's usual good humor was suddenly nowhere in evidence. I assessed the scene and decided I should get scarce. Perhaps if I went out and caught a fish I would redeem myself?
I came back an hour later, without a fish. But I found the cabin cleaned up and the boys dressed and warm and the cook's good humor back in place.
Later, I shared an insight with Alisa. "What a great husband I must be!" I said. "If leaving a portlight open counts as a major screw-up for me."
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