Regatta Farewell

Dearest Readers, consider this my TEMPORARY farewell.  Regatta fever continues.  Now my adrenalin is really racing as we are about to set sail!  Literally.  We are leaving on a friend’s sailboat and leisurely headed down to the Regatta.  (My family is visiting and taking care of the house and Angel, and I’ll be delighted to spend more time together upon my return.)

I won’t bother taking my computer with me, and I don’t have any mobile gadgets other than a very basic cell phone.  Upon leaving the States, I gave up the old Blackberry!  While Bahamians also have all the latest iphones, ipads, etc., part of my Better Life is controlling myself against the lure of constant-internet-everything.  So, while I’d love to update you periodically from the middle of it all, I will remain unplugged and “in the moment” and just enjoy it!  Of course, I’ll be snapping photos like crazy and will fill you in upon my return.  Since I’m going to be unplugged, any new comments you make won’t post until my return.  Thank you for your patience, and I’ll certainly respond then.

Have a wonderful couple of weeks and I’ll talk to you early May!  Hugs and Better Life blessings to each of you!

At Home With A Champion Sailboat

Regatta fever continues!  While I ready myself for the trip, I thought you might enjoy some journal excerpts from our local sailboat from earlier this year . . .

Tuesday, January 3, 2012

Gently, I bob in the turquoise waters of my home in the out islands of the Bahamas.  All 28 on-deck feet of my wooden hull bask in the new year’s sun, while my seven foot draw drifts on a single keel below and my 60 foot mast stands regally above.  The massive canvas sheet which serves as my mainsail is drying out on land nearby.  Thanks to my caring and competent crew, I am securely tied to the government dock, and I float above conch shells, small fish and the occasional nurse shark.  I am resting after stretching my sea legs over the holidays.  I raced four times over new year’s weekend – winning, every time!

The first three races were a series in the annual local regatta.  I sailed, along with my ever-present-contender sister boat from here.  We were also joined this year by another competitive A-Class sailboat.  What a delightful challenge!  This annual regatta is a more relaxed race because the purpose is to give all of the holiday visitors a taste of Bahamian sloop racing, even hosting visitors as guest crew on all three A-Class sailboats.  However, even “relaxed” races are taken seriously by Bahamian sailors, and we raced our hearts out.  Our guest crews performed well, and everyone had a great deal of fun on a gorgeous day.  My captain also took a lot of teasing about me being so fast.  “Do you have a motor in there?”  “Why don’t you take it just a little bit easy on the other boats?”  We just smile and know that we sail as best we can sail, every single time, in the great tradition of the great captains that charted the course of Bahamian sloop racing.

A few days later, I raced again, this time with visiting boats in the local New Year’s Day Cruising Regatta.  For this race, I was the only Bahamian sloop, racing against other sailboats – 20 foot to 80 foot – and even some catamarans since monohull and multihull vessels race together in this unique local Cruising Regatta.  Two especially beautiful sailboats provided some excitement with a near-collision on the start line – yikes! – but the skilled captains and crew averted catastrophe.  After that, the race was fairly straight-forward.  It was a cloudy day, but the winds were just right for my large sail.  Since humans comprise a large percentage of my ballast, we have them stacked up on the wooden pries perched off my side, hanging on for dear life, and then scrambling to the other side every time we tack.  And when I am on a strong reach and keeling hard, oh how my crew flies high in the air at the end of the pry.  Of course, when winds fall out suddenly, these fine folks often get dunked into the sea until I get myself righted.  

During this particular race, sailors were spared and mostly dry except for a few dangling legs.  Your own Better Life Blogger participated in her first race and clung tightly to my pry.  She knew that her primary responsibility was NOT TO FALL OFF!  In Bahamian racing, if a crew member falls overboard, the boat must turn around to retrieve the person, which of course means lots of lost time and dooms a boat’s hopes for winning.  Thankfully, everyone remained aboard and did well.  One of the catamarans gave me a run for my money towards the end, pressing too close for comfort, but I was able to hold steady and cross the finish line in first place.

During our local regattas, all of the races take place on a triangular course in the harbor just west of the public beach.  From here, the shoreline gives me views of the big marina, rental cottages, health clinic, a restaurant, a bar, a bakery, a few small stores, the church and the brightly colored homes dotting the Village and other areas of the island.  But today, I rest up near the shore, mast standing proudly while the rigging gently slaps against it in the wakes from passing boats.  I know I must rest.  Regatta (around here, there’s only one regatta that gets that shorthand – the National Family Island Regatta in George Town every April) is coming up in a few short months.  I will be ready.

Saturday, January 21, 2012

I was dozing in the spectacular rays of the setting sun when a flurry of activity called me to attention this evening.  The “mail boat” – one of several cargo ships contracted by the Bahamian government to deliver mail and freight to the out islands – had pulled in to the government dock on its return to Nassau.  Very graciously, the mail boat planned to use its large crane to remove my immense mast, and the mast of my sister boat, until time to re-set them for Regatta.  My captain and crew bustled around, loosing me from my current mooring and pulling me around to the other side of the mail boat.  My sister boat and I took turns and oh-so-carefully had our masts removed.  The crew closed down all the rigging, then wrapped everything tightly with a line.  My captain looped a thick rope on the crane’s hook and raised the loop around my mast up to the middle.  From below deck, one of the crew hammered loose the supports for my mast.  Then, as the mail boat captain shouted directions to the crane operator, the crane began to pull and lift, while my captain and a crew member guided my mast up, up, up.  All sixty feet leaned long over the bow of the mail boat and tilted down toward land.  About 10 men from the crews hurried to the dock to ease the mast gently onto the ground.  Oops, it bounced a bit, but my talented boat builders made all parts of me strong, so it was just fine!

From there, the guys carried my mast up onto shore where it will wait for me to join it in the boatyard for a fresh coat of paint before Regatta.  Meanwhile, my captain and other crew moved me back around to tie up at the government dock and batten down all my hatches.  It was a chilly, windy evening, but the shouts and laughter of everyone warmed every wooden plank in my body.  There is a lot of love on this island, and in this country, for sailing, and I am so thankful for the special care given to me by my owners, sailors and fans!

Blogger’s Post-Script

This beloved sailboat proceeded to rest until a few weeks ago.  The men hauled her up onto shore, set braces against the hull so she would stand upright, and proceeded to give her a fresh paint (turning themselves as blue as smurfs in the process).  They then slid her back into the water – about twelve strong men pushing from each side – and she was anchored by the dock again.  A week or two ago, the mail boat set her mast – reversing the process described in the journal above – and the crew rigged her up and placed the lead ballast.  She’s now ready for a tow to Regatta where she will race in all her glory!

 

Regatta Primer

I HAVE REGATTA FEVER!  And you're going to be hearing about it, so I should give you the background scoop now . . .

All over the world, of course, regattas - or sailboat races - take place.  Even within the Bahamas, various regattas occur during the year.  However, in this context, "Regatta" is shorthand for the one-and-only, like-no-other, national sailing championship of the Bahamas that occurs in George Town every April and is more formerly known as the National Family Island Regatta.

Like any sport with a high profile throughout the country, sailboat racing in the Bahamas brings with it fierce competition and immense pride.  The basic rules are that the boats must be Bahamian-made and Bahamian-owned.  They are wooden sloops, approximately 28 feet long, with a seven foot draw, a huge boom and towering 60 foot masts.  The inside of the hull is mostly empty and is also where the crew stores its lead ballast.  The moveable ballast allows the crew to add or remove weight as needed.  Additionally, real live people serve as ballast!  Wooden planks - the pry - lie across the width of the boat and slide from side to side.  The crew pile up on the pry to add weight to the opposite side as the strength of the wind in the sail pushes the boat on a hard lean.  (This is one of the most exciting parts of Bahamian sloop racing!)  The boats harken back to the boats of traditional Bahamian fishermen, and they carry tradition and honor along with the thrill of sport.

The island where I live has a strong tradition of boat-building, skilled craftsmanship, knowledgeable sailors, brilliant racers and championship boats and crews.  The boats of this island are a huge source of local pride and camaraderie.

Regatta offers races in multiple categories, based on the size of the boat.  "A Class" are the largest (28 foot) and our island usually sends a couple A-Class boats to compete, along with an occasional B-Class, a champion C-Class and various others.  I won't attempt to describe the rules because I would surely miss something. If you're a true boater looking for the technical descriptions, the official Regatta website posts the rules and regulations.

Rather, my love of Regatta focuses on the sheer THRILL of the experience, coupled with the community bonding aspect.  My beau and many friends are avid sailors.  They race together and on competing boats, which serves as great fodder for bickering and trash talk at the local bars throughout the year.  But now, as Regatta looms next week, the chatter is at fevered pitch.

I'm so doggone excited!  My beau and the other sailors will help coordinate getting the race boats towed to George Town (which takes almost an entire day), anchored securely and readied for last minute preparations.  Then he'll motorboat back home, and we'll eventually travel down together - leisurely - with friends on their private sailboat.  Once in George Town, we'll reunite with local friends and those we haven't seen in a while who have come in for Regatta.  (Don't worry, I have family visiting and staying in my home to keep Angel company!  She's not low-maintenance enough to go with me!)

And then, let the racing begin!  The Race Committee fires a start gun, the sailors pull hard to raise the spectacular sails, and the boats are off.  I follow along in a "chase boat" in case one of our boats needs anything (e.g., offload lead ballast before the start gun if the boat is sailing too heavy in practice) and just to enjoy the thrill of being up close and personal.

For example, here are just a handful of pics from April 2011's Regatta . . .

Just some of the A-Class boats clustered together during one of the races.

Beautiful water of the Exumas!  Smaller C-Class boats racing here.

A-Class boats rounding an orange buoy.

A beautiful line of A-Class boats on a final leg (with our local boat in the lead)!

So pretty.

Sometimes dangerous and fierce, as these two battle for right-of-way nearing the buoy.

If this little teaser has whet your appetite for more, No Worries Mahn!  Plenty more to come!

Gorgeous Aerial Views

Welcome to a new week!  I was in Nassau over the weekend, running errands, visiting with my beau's family and attending the funeral of a friend's son.  As tragic and sad as that was - a life cut far too short - it was a good day with family and friends.  Reminders in so many ways, large and small, to make each and every day count!

The flight home from Nassau is about 30-40 minutes in a small, single-engine plane.  After dozing as we left Nassau yesterday, I roused myself for the last 15 minutes to enjoy the spectacular aerial views of the island chain.  I've posted some photos like this before, but the beauty never ceases to amaze me.  Like a snowflake, each photo is unique - the islands remain mostly the same, but the difference in tides, winds, currents, etc. make for nuanced patterns in the water on any given day.

The photos below show off the myriad colors and patterns.  Some of the aqua swirls have white in them.  Those are the very shallow parts with sand bars or the sand showing through.  The water is simply that clear and it sometimes appears as though there is no water at all!

Yesterday's weather was very windy.  (With a strong cross-wind, that also made for a very bumpy descent and landing!  Glad my local pilot makes this trip several times a day in all kinds of conditions!)  Because of the wind, the water was choppier than usual.  In some of the photos, you'll see whitecaps and waves crashing against rock from the eastern windward side.

To me, these pictures are like the swirls of color in an impressionist's painting.  Even better, because it's REAL.  And best of all, because it's my neighborhood!  :)  Enjoy the flight.

Fishing Trip, Without The Fish

Ahhh, the Better Life!  It's all a state of mind.  I mean, here I am, in the most beautiful, pristine, idyllic setting one could wish for, and I STILL get caught up in a frantic flurry of the almighty Things To Do.  On a typical day this week, for example, I started my day at 6:30 a.m. per usual.  It quickly turned into a day of blog posting, social media responses, catching up on overnight email, starting laundry, walking the dog, hanging laundry to dry, mopping the floor, cleaning the bathroom, paying bills online, making lunch, visiting with my beau over lunch, drafting documents and conducting email flurry for local summer children's camp that I help organize, switching laundry off the line to dry, phone calls from family, prepping dinner, etc., etc.

I still had hoped to catch an early shower (never knowing when the water might go off) and run one last errand before closing down for dinner and the evening.  That hadn't happened yet, and it was already after 4:00.  Then, the phone rang.

It was my beau calling.  Generally, he starts his day in the wee hours of the morn and wraps up official work late afternoon/early evening, spending the next few hours catching up on other work, running errands, enjoying happy hour (me too!) or whatever.  That day, he announced he was going fishing!  But it sounded like I was too busy to join him?

Hah!  In all of two seconds, I reminded myself - WHY do you live here?  To sit longer in front of a computer?  What did you leave your former life for?  To continue working too much at the expense of missing out on living life?  NO, to all of that.  YES, to let's go fishing!

I grabbed my sunglasses, visor, cold drinks and hit the road in my golf cart towards the dock.  The next hour and a half was absolutely worth it.  We didn't catch a single fish, but I had a great and relaxing end of day!  

Wanna experience it again with me?

First, we pull out from the dock, easing through the shallow and crystal clear channel area.

We cruise by the government dock, where people were cleaning fish at the bench, admiring one of the local sailboats floating and ready for an upcoming regatta, and generally unwinding from the day together.

Nearing the sailboat (more on these boats and the regatta soon) and the picturesque church.

Having completed our shoreline stroll, we zoom away from the island.  Heading north for a few miles, we stay on the western, protected, calmer side.

Waverunners and water toys are common during the busy tourist season.  Locals aren't thrilled about them buzzing about, but - as we say around here - what it is, is what it is.

Plentiful boats in the area this time of year.

Look at this big momma anchored far out.  At a distance, guessing it's 240+ feet, one big cruising yacht!  We're seeing more of these this season.  Speculation is that the super-wealthy, who would normally cruise to Europe and the Mediterranean are saving on fuel costs by staying more local in the Caribbean!

Zipping along through the numerous little cays dotting the area.

One of many deserted beaches popping out of the rock by the sea, with soft, white sand.

Approaching the "cut" over to the deep, rougher "ocean side" on the eastern side of the island chain.

About to go through the cut.  Some days, it can look deceptively calm, but still surprise you, so a good captain is always alert.  One day, going through this same cut on a calm, clear day, we were suddenly swamped by a 15+ foot wave.  Fortunately, nobody was hurt (more than some pretty severe bangs) or thrown overboard.  I was holding onto a rail with both hands and crouched low, just focused on staying with the boat.  Definitely the roughest seas I'd been in.  Scary.  So glad an experienced captain was handling the boat!

Crossing the cut, waves slap and splash, but it is relatively uneventful as we venture into deeper, ocean waters.  We've gone from clear, pale blue and turquoise green waters into deeper royal blue waters, which will turn to navy blue as we head out even deeper.

Heading east, away from land into nothingness as the sun sparkles and slowly lowers itself for the day.

At this point, we're about a mile from land and in 1,000+ feet of water.

Now the fun kicks into a new level!  My beau sets two reels with bait (ballyhoo) and casts them into the water before resting them on either side of the boat's stern.  We're fishing for dolphin, as in mahi-mahi, not Flipper.  I was at the wheel and throttle at this point, which is why you are not graced with pictures of the line-baiting, etc.  :)   

We troll along for an hour, heading another mile out with almost nothing in sight except a distant peek of land, a sprinkle of boats in the distance and an occasional passing plane.  As we putter along, I breathe easy, cold drink in hand, munching on cashews, Best of the Eagles playing on the boat's stereo, sun warming the soul.  My beau, when he is not regaling clients and friends with entertaining stories, is a man of few words, and we sit in comfortable silence, taking in the peace of Mother Ocean together.

Eventually, we head south, towards a cut closer to home.  We pull in the empty reels.  Although we didn't catch anything, that is secondary to the bliss of getting out on the water.  Fish aren't running quite yet, but we don't care this day!

We dock the boat, where I mange to tie a hitch that is deemed "perfect," and we put the boat away.  I head home and fix dinner while the sun finishes setting off the back deck.  Less than two hours ago, I was feeling the press of the day.  Now, I am at peace.

I hope you can find little bits of that in your day, too.  Have a great weekend!

Hunting Large Sea Snails

Recently, I wrote about an evening boat excursion, which included hunting large sea snails.  I promised a fuller description of what that entails, so here you go!

By way of background, I was never a huge fan of escargot (snails) when I would occasionally encounter them at a fancy restaurant in my former life in the States.  (However, if you saturate anything in butter and garlic, I'm likely to find it tasty!)  So, when an island local offered me bites of an even bigger Bahamian variety a while back, I was even less keen.  However, in the spirit of Choosing the Better Life, I wanted to be open and try new things.  Plus, buttery garlic was offered up simultaneously as a dipping sauce!  While it doesn't hit my love-ometer at the same high scale as lobster or hogfish, I did like it.

Since then, I've learned more about these critters.  Bahamians pronounce the name so that it sounds like "Wilts" or "Vilts."  You may know them as Wilks or Whilks or Whelks.  Or, you may have never heard of these large Caribbean sea snails!  I'll let Wikipedia provide the technical descriptions, but here is my layman's version . . .

We headed out in the boat toward little rock formations jutting out of the sea.  The wilks can be found on our island, too, but not as many these days.

Tide was low so we knew that the wilks, which adhere to the rock near the water line, would be exposed.

Before we focus on snails, let's take a moment to admire the spectacular water.  I never tire of looking at it.

See the different rock coloration marking the high water line?

We maneuvered as close to the rock as possible, leaned in (or got out of the boat on larger rocks), used a knife to pry the wilk's suction loose and dropped it into the bucket.

Approaching with knife in hand.

Our first wilk in the bucket!

While my beau hunts in this photo, I was manning the camera and holding the boat off of the rock at the same time!

As soon as you pry it lose, the wilk squirts salt water out of the shell and quickly retreats back inside.  If you look closely, the center with rings around it is the suction cup portion of the snail.

Up close and personal.

In ten short minutes, we'd gathered a great snack!

But we weren't done.   We kept cruising through the sparkling blue water along the line of little cays in search of more wilks.  When driving closely - and knowing what you're looking for - you can spot the wilks clinging to the rock before heading in closer with the knife.

In a very shallow cove with rock in a semicircle around us.  Engine is turned off and up - we're walking the boat along.

The next round of hunting took longer than our initial score.  We passed several cays that had already been cleaned out by others.  Or, as my beau put it, "Dis is hog road. Ain't nuttin' dere."  Translation from Bahamian dialect:  "This is 'hog road' (meaning, well traveled).  Ain't nothing there."

Still, in about an hour's time - and with us trading spots while he drove and I gathered some wilks - we had a nice bucket of "groceries."

I contributed about 10 to this pile.

As an aside, this excursion was also a great boat lesson for me.  We were in choppy water and I had to slowly approach the rock, throw it into reverse at times, reach the targeted wilk without the current pushing me aside, watch the prop where it got shallow, keep the boat off the rock while he got the snails, sometimes even circle around on my own to retrieve my beau from the rock if he got out of the boat, and otherwise test my new skills.  Challenging, but exhilarating and great practice!

Another line of small cays in the distance, over the choppy water.

Just another example.

As the sun dropped, we called it quits on the hunting and enjoyed the rest of the boat excursion.  Eventually, we made it home.  While I prepared a salad and sauteed the freshly caught Wahoo fillets from our friend for fish sandwiches, my beau prepared our appetizer - wilks!

We brought only a few home with us.  (The rest, we put in an onion bag - strong netting with plenty of holes for water, but small enough that the wilks can't escape.  We sunk the onion bag in water near home and tied it up so the wilks wouldn't crawl off.  This kept them alive overnight until we could share them with other friends in the coming days.)

First, he put the wilks and some water in a pot to boil.

That's salt and seawater scum that boiled off around the edge of the pan.

After 30 minutes or so, he deemed them ready.  I confess I'm not entirely sure how he knew!  After draining them, he took them one by one and popped the snail out by knocking the shell against the cutting board.

The part in the center of the photo is the snail's tail that pushes it along.  We discarded those.

With a kitchen knife, he then took each snail and removed the suction cup and tail.  With the remaining meat, he sliced it into bite sizes for us to dunk in melted butter with lime and garlic.  We did all of this standing up - it didn't last long enough to make it into a bowl at the table.

The dark round discs in the middle of the photo are the suction cups, hardened after being boiled.

These are large, good-sized shells.  Any that were smaller, we left on the rock to keep growing.  We don't hunt babies!

Of course, throughout this entire preparation, Angel was never far from the action.  The smells of the fish in the pan and the wilks on the counter tantalized her quivering nose.  In case you had any question about it, fish is not just for cats.  Angel and the other island dogs love all varieties of seafood!

If I sit nicely, maybe he'll take pity on me or at least drop some little morsel?

So, the next time you hear about or see escargot, you can forget the fancy French stuff and remember our island-style wilks!