Tug of War

A recent series of mistakes on Imagine created a medical emergency that could have resulted in injuries far worse than they were.

Playing tug of war with one of the two lines towing the dinghy while under way was not a good idea,  Two weeks later, I type this column using two thumbs.  Injuries on both hands slowly and painfully continue to heal from rope buns that tore away skin and tissue below.

The first mistake was not removing the outboard motor from the light gray dinghy before leaving the still waters of  Raccoon Cay for South Side Bay in the Ragged Islands, nearly 15 miles away.

It was calm. The waters were clear and flat.  Skies were blue. The sun was bright. Yes, both my husband and I know better than to rely on visual, and even predicted, weather.

The wind picked up enough to unfurl the head sail.  We motor sailed along at five knots. The dinghy, with its outboard tilted upwards, started to bounce as wind driven waves began to form.  Would it tow better if we let out some more line?

The second mistake was not dousing the sail and slowing the boat as we lengthened the lines.

Mistakes three and four included not grabbing my sailing gloves and not cleating off the line before husband, Ed, began to feed line out.

Mistake number five, and perhaps the biggest mistake of the morning, was attempting to play tug of war in an effort to hold the dinghy while the boat sails along.

Never, never hold onto a line under that kind of load. You will not win!  I was lucky to escape with fingers intact as a result of this misadventure that occurred  miles away from other boats and medical care.

Ed quickly notices the plan is not working and drops the bow line while I looked away in an attempt to cleat off the stern line.  This pulled the dinghy on a broadside tilt. It begin to swamp.  Ed shouts. "Let go!" I do, but not before the line rakes through my  hands. The damage is done.

Ed stops the boat and furls head sail.  I unclench and try to ignore my bloody hands. I grab the boat hook as we turn to retrieve the barely floating dinghy. Ed climbs over the stern to secure and bail the wayward rubber boat, I run below to quickly rinse my hands and cover six fingers and my palm with bandages.  

Pain shoots down my wrist and up my arm.  Ed continues to bail the dink as he runs the outboard to counteract any immersion issues.  He does not yet know the extent of the rope burns.

With two good fingers, I put Imagine in gear, slightly above idle.  We move along at 1.5 knots as we get back on course.  Ed climbs aboard.  With stern mounted davits, Ed lifts the dinghy, with motor on.  If only we did that earlier?

We anchor.  I fill a bowl with sterilized and cooled water from the water maker. I soak my hands, adding ice while swallowing ibuprofen for the pain.  I refuse to give into tears as I look at my battered hands knowing the first aid supplies stowed on the boat will have to suffice.

Ed covers the open burns with prescription burn cream, wrapping my hands loosely with non stick pads and gauze.  Later I take some leftover pain medication from a previous outpatient surgery and try to rest.

At 5:00 p.m., Ed tunes into the Do Dah Net via the Single Side Band radio.  When they  ask for emergency or priority traffic, Ed asks if anyone can recommend treatment.

A physician on the catamaran Salty Paws is listening.  On another frequency, he asks questions.  Ed emails photos.  While skin has been removed with some fat tissue, the injury will not require us to head for Nassau any the nearest hospital, nearly three days away by boat.

There is a small clinic on Ragged Island with a nurse on call if infection sets in.

Another boat, five miles away,  hears Ed on the radio, and offers additional burn cream.  Marilyn, the first mate on Discovery, is a retired pharmacist.  The following day, Ed moves Imagine to Hog Cay anchorage where Discovery and three other boats are anchored.

The ritual of soaking hands and dressing the wounds three times of day has begun.  Ed has taken over all the galley chores.  He's learned to make bread.  "It sure looks a lot easier from where I sit," he says.    "Where do all these dishes come from," he asks?

A week after the initial foray into the category of dumb mistakes, Ed takes me to shore  for  a walk on the beach. We are waved over by a couple on the catamaran, Carina.

Cathy, a retired registered nurse, who has experience with burn patients, examined my hands and explained that the pink line beginning to form around the circumference of the wound was healthy tissue coming back and that burns heal from outside in.  She also sent us home with a care package of additional dressing material.
The feedback and concern of other boaters was amazing.  Doctors, nurses and pharmacists on boats are priceless.

The experience serves as a reminder to stay alert and not to get lazy when it comes to safety.  A friend  on another boat, said that my experience, encouraged her to dig out her own sailing gloves to keep nearby in the cockpit.  "I've  been lucky," she said.

The upside of  this misadventure is that I've made some new boating friends and I have finally had the opportunity to know what it feels like to be a boat princess.  I lounge. I read. I nap. I listen to the radio.  My meals appear magically, although I do hear a lot of banging in the galley.

As far as the princess part... not my cup of tea.  And the hands, slowly they heal, with a little help from my husband, and some new boating friends.

Light and Variable

Imagine you are slowly skimming across a sparkling, unending, swimming pool blue, body of water.  The surface is smooth as glass.  The movement of a small boat putting across the surface creates the only breeze.

After nearly a month of bouncing in 15 to 20 knot winds, today's dawn brings light and variable winds.  Ed fills the dinghy tank with gas. We grab the handheld VHF, some jugs of water, granola bars, almonds and sunscreen.  

It's  a perfect day to explore new areas below and above the aquamarine waters surrounding Great Exuma.  

The Exuma Cays offers visitors an opportunity to play in some the Bahamas most pristine waters.  On this postcard perfect day, nature showcases the virtual Bahamian aquarium just below the surface of our dinghy.

Chop and wavelets often distort much of which lies below the surface on those windy days.  On windy days, which are quite frequent during the Bahamian winter months, the only way to get a true glimpse of life beneath the surface is to snorkel or dive. Today everything is visible from the dinghy.

Turquoise waters reach out to meet the deeper blue of the sky. A few pillowy white clouds moving slowly overhead reflect the blue of the water. A backdrop of brilliant greens; sea grape, mangrove and silver palm perch upon a rocky landscape along the shore.  Patches of white sandy beaches link one rocky outcrop to another.

We run the dinghy at half speed in 15 feet deep waters. Sea grass and sand ripples appear as if only I nches away.  A small sea turtle stops to checks us out.  Before I can turn on the camera, it zips away.   

Dinner plate sized cushioned sea stars seemingly stare up at the sky. Dark orange and brown in color, the slow moving sea creatures contrast vividly against  the white sandy bottom.  Joining their larger cousins, smaller thorny sea stars are sprinkled like decorations across the uneven sand.

Small schools of fish dart away as we motor close.  In front small fish jump from the water as a two foot barracuda follows in search of mid morning snack.

Later we pass over a half dozen large manta rays resting just above the floor of the bay.   One sweeps up and glides behind us before hanging a left and swimming away.

Near rocky and partially shaded shores,  long needled purple spiny sea urchins keep us in the dingy. Stepping on one of those would not be fun.  

Sea cucumbers continue to be a mystery to me.  Found  in shallow waters, they look like an oversized rotten banana from the boat.  Close up, one

can spot  ridges and bumps that do look like a dark cucumber.  It is a scavenger and related to both the starfish ad urchin. 

As the sun moves towards noon, the apparent breeze created by the forward motion of the highly cools our sun warmed faces and arms.  It is a comfortable 75 degrees.   

As we enter the tidal shallows we try to stay in a band of deeper turquoise water. When the color fades to clear and white we have to get out of the dinghy to  pull or scull the dingy into deeper water.  

Around one turn, a partially sunken  sailboat reminds us how quickly life can change.  We are sad for the sailors who have lost their boat.  We learn later that the boat sunk in a storm.  The owners were not onboard.   

A freight boat and an old barge, both encrusted with rust, sit halfway beached as testament to how devastating weather can be when summer hurricanes pass over the Bahamas.  Schools of small yellow fish and stripped sergeant majors utilize the wrecked boats as an artificial reef.

The shallows surrounding the mangroves serve as a nursery for sea turtles.  During the nearly mile trek from the mangroves back to the deep Exuma Sound, dozens of juvenile sea turtles dart back and forth  so quickly it was impossible to identify them.

The Exuma Sound flows through and around the Bahamian archipelago. It connects to the Atlantic on the northeast and southeast of the inland chain.

 

Today the expected swells and waves have given way to calm.  We shoot across the smooth sea at 15 knots.  Below in 20 feet of  water we look down into the reef.

Muted browns of elk horn and stag horn coral mix with green brain coral.  Branched finger coral grows next to gorgonians and lavender sea fans.  Along the reef, divers with spear guns also take advantage of the calm day while they hunt for spiny lobster and hogfish. 

The wind begins to clock and increase as we head back into Elizabeth Harbor.

This unexpected light and variable day was a gift.  We unwrapped it and surrounded our senses with its quiet joy and wonder.  There will always be days in our lives when the wind blows ferociously.  On those days we must remember that ahead a light and variable day of peace and beauty awaits.

Have a Bubbly New Year!

Many sailors tend to stick to one or two dishwashing liquids because both brands will “suds” well in salt water.  The brands are also supposedly kinder to the environment.   On Imagine we’ve used both the yellow and the blue brands, but prefer blue, because, well, it is one of my favorite colors.

Not only do we use it for washing dishes, but also for making foaming hand soap.  A good squirt of detergent in a recycled foaming hand soap bottle and topped off with water makes an easy inexpensive substitute.  On laundry day grease stains on clothes get a small dab on the offending spot.  It does certainly break down the grease.

If you haven’t already guessed, I accidently discovered that the blue goo is champion at making bubbles.  On Imagine we store a good portion of our household products. It’s cheaper to bring them along than to purchase items on an island nation.

Each year we carefully stow two three-quart refill bottles of dish soap.   Believe me when I say that heavy plastic bottles full of liquid can chafe and rub in rolling seas.

Two years ago the bilge received an instant scrub when a gallon bottle of greased lightening chaffed through and leaked into the bilge.  Bubble wrap and rubber floor matting thereafter became our friend.  Problem solved… or not. 

Imagine left Marathon in late November and headed to the Bahamas with all items secure and battened down.  Bungee cords wrapped snake-like around provisions stored in large plastic containers layered in a once empty quarter-berth.   Foam beverage can insulators separated dishes that might slide and bang in the cabinets. 

All cabinet doors were secured to ensure one didn’t open underway and spill the contents.   I only needed one experience with cans exploding from a their storage area and rolling around the cabin sole as the boat rocked violently back and forth on a beam reach in seven foot seas.  Picking the cans up resulted in bruises and a bump on the head as the seas bounced me back and forth below decks.  

That brings us back to the bubbles.  Who would have dreamed that a bottle of dish soap encased in bubble wrap, and cushioned with a storm sail, could actually crack when an equally wrapped quart bottle of honey squashed a bottom corner of the soap bottle?

At the time Imagine was plowing into five to seven foot seas. Waves easily lifted the boat. Imagine would do its nautical version of a cannon ball dive, spraying water over the decks and into the cockpit.

After all this time sailing, why am I not surprised that weather predictions and wind patterns seldom coincide with a perfect sailing window.

For 225 miles, with the wind on the nose, Imagine bucked forward and aft.  Nearing the end of our 31-hour odyssey, Ed pops up from below holding a blue goo covered finger.  “Do you think this is dish soap?” he asked.   “Sure does captain,” I reply. 

The trail of blue ooze grew wider and longer as the motion of the boat pushed it out from the aft storage area of the V-berth.   While I vaguely remembered the location of the bottle, I also remembered that all of our spare toilet paper (an important boat commodity) was hidden away in the bottom of the locker.  I pictured heavily soaked blue rolls.

Discovery would wait.  First Imagine docked at Nassau Yacht Haven under a yellow quarantine flag.  All on board were required to remain on the boat until both customs and immigration officials arrived to grant Imagine and crew access to the Bahamas.  After checking in at the marina office, I decided to take the “bubbles” by the horns.

Propping up the queen-sized V-berth mattress, I lifted the cover board and began to slowly unpack sugar, crackers, chocolate bars, snacks, oatmeal, flags, canned goods, paper products and the all-important toilet paper.  Yes! The blue goo had not contaminated any of our supplies.  As I lift the bottle from its’ nest I notice an indented tear at the bottom of the bottle.  

Most of the blue goo collected under a rubber grate at the bottom of the locker.   The sail bag for the storm trysail and the sail inside had soaked up some of the mess.  A miniature dustpan and brush allowed for a quicker clean up and I was able to save a good quart of goo.

My first bubble mistake was rinsing detergent soaked sponges in the sink.  Bubbles filled the sink and the sponges would not rinse.  I dumped a dishpan of soapy water down the head and watched as bubbles filled the toilet bowl.  That was my second bubble mistake.  Bubbles rose out of the bowl and floated into the shower each time I pumped the toilet.

In the harbor, bubbles that went down the drain popped up under the boat and floated away as I continued to sop up the mess.  Oil spill rags came to the rescue and absorbed the remaining blue residue.

I took the sail into the shower and began spraying the sail and sail bag.  Holding a sail is akin to grabbing onto an icy surface.  Aw I wrestled the sail, the shower stall filled with bubbles that build up faster than they could escape through the shower grate. 

At that point I shrugged and began to laugh. I hadn’t seen so many bubbles since the time someone (whom I won’t mention here) decided to use regular dish soap in a dishwasher.   Parts of the kitchen were waist high in bubbles on that memorable day.

The blue soap maker boasts that is the number one brand used to clean spilled oil from the feathers and fur of sea dwelling creatures that get caught in another kind of goo that is black and is too often spilled from rigs and ships.  It is also champion at bubble making. 

Just in case you feel like kicking up your heel and creating some bubbles of your own, bubbles.org, says that the blue goo makes great giant bubbles found in bubble makers at children’s museums.  The recipe follows: use ½ cup blue goo, ½ gallon of warm water and one tablespoon of Karo syrup.  Stir gently.  Remove the foam as the foam can break down bubbles.   Find your favorite bubble-making wand and go to town.

And for those of you who are more practical, and not into bubbles, the goo makes a great alternative to using salt to melt ice on sidewalks.  Mix 1 teaspoon of blue goo, 1 tablespoon of rubbing alcohol, one ½ gallon warm water and pour over walks and steps.  This remedy is supposed to keep the ice from refreezing.

From Imagine and crew, we wish all a bubbly New Year filled with the all the best it has to offer.

Buskers, Boats and Bars in Key West

No one person can describe Key West. Just the mention of Florida’s southernmost island brings a myriad of images to the listener.  For me I see buskers, boats and bars.  There is no shortage of any of those. 

Ed and Tom at Schooner Wharf Bar

Others immediately conjure Jimmy Buffet and visions of Margaritaville.   Then there are the reef divers and deep-sea fisherman who see light green-blue waters when they define Key West. For others Key West is their party place with a pick of over 300 bars with liquid beverages as varied and unique as the Island itself.  

Eccentricity and individualism add to the color and experience of Key West.  On one visit we were not surprised to see a faux Anna Nicole Smith, dressed in a form fitting red floor length red gown, slink through patrons drinking mango mimosas with their breakfast at the Schooner Wharf Bar.  If an open-air bar can become quiet, it came as close as it could be that day. Some of the best female impersonators call Key West their home.

There are sculpture gardens, butterfly gardens, and beaches.  Key West is also the southernmost point of the United States and is marked with a larger than life red, yellow and black buoy that provides photo ops each day for countless tourists. 

Key West sunsets draw both locals and visitors each night to Mallory Square where just about anything can happen.  Sunset brings schooners and catamarans to sail back and forth along the waters edge while fire jugglers, acrobats, fortune-tellers, musicians and vendors line up along the bulkhead to entertain and pander to the crowd. 

Key West street performers are referred to as buskers.  Busking is a custom that comes from a time when wandering minstrels and bards traveled from place to place while performing to earn food or lodging.

Before recording and the electronic age, busking was a common way for performers to earn a living.  The term busking is said to have origins in Great Britain.  At sunset, be prepared to throw a few coins or bills in the hat or guitar case as buskers sing or perform for their supper.

At the historic seaport, schooners of days long gone, sit waiting to fill with tourists for scheduled tours that allow visitors to experience life on a sailing ship of old.  Mixed among the majestic schooners sit catamarans, fishing vessels and sailboats that offer diving, snorkeling, parasailing, fishing and history tours.

A Key West Christmas Tree with Lobster Traps

One fishing boat maneuvers in between an already docked sailboat and motorboat.  At the controls the captain completes a sideways shuffle using one screw to neatly stop at the dock along the bulkhead.   One by one the crew pulls fish from coolers, positioning the catch around the back of the boat in U-formation.   

Four foot and longer tarpon appear in the waters below waiting for the captain and crew to clean the fish.  As scraps go overboard, the almost tame tarpons snap up a free and easy meal.

My most recent foray to Key West began with husband, Ed and his brother, Tom, in late November. Even though I have visited there several times, there is always something new to see there. There is also something new to learn.

This year Key West, celebrates the State of Florida’s 500^th birthday, the anniversary of Ponce de Leon’s discovery of Florida and the Gulf Stream in 1513.  Colorful red, white and blue banners featuring historic trivia hang from streetlights throughout Old Town. 

There is no documentation that Ponce de Leon ever set foot in the Florida Keys and the fabled quest for the fountain of Youth is mostly myth.  However, the Spanish explorer is credited for discovering the chain of islands west of Key West that he called the Tortugas for the sea turtles his men captured as food.

According to Key West history tidbits, the English later added the word Dry to the island chain warning sailors of the lack of fresh water on the islands.  I added another piece of trivia to my already overloaded brain circuitry when I learned that Ponce de Leone named the Florida Keys Los Martiers (The Martyrs) because the islands reminded him of suffering men.

Key West’s history is not complete without mention of the legendary Henry Flagler who built the Florida Overseas Railroad connecting the keys to the mainland.  He rode the first train into Key West during 1912.

By that time the industry of sponging, turtling, and the tradition of wrecking were already giving way to cigar making, tourism, churches and hotels.  By the 1890’s there were over 200 cigar factories in Key West that produced over 1,000,000,000 cigars a year for export.

Of course, history buffs all know that the first international phone transmission took place between Key West and Cuba on Christmas Day 1900.   And don’t forget that Earnest Hemmingway called Key West home for a time and the descendants of his six-toed cats wander around the grounds today.  Sloppy Joes Bar continues to pay tribute to its most famous hard drinking patron.

President Harry Truman stayed in his humble getaway in Key West.   American presidents to include Kennedy, Reagan, Eisenhower, Clinton and others have visited there.

Key West also continues to offer a haven for artists of all genres.  There are many galleries tucked in among the bars, shops and restaurants throughout Key West.  Renowned Maine painter Winslow Homer spent time in Key West, as did John James Audubon.  American folk artist Mario Sanchez hailed from the Keys.  The son of Cuban immigrants became famous for his carvings and vibrant paintings of life during the 1930’s in old Key West.

It doesn’t matter if you are strolling down Duvall, Simonton, Catherine or Whitehead streets; there is something in Key West that will make you smile.  Kick back.  Do a little happy dance.  Go on a pub-crawl or take a ghost tour.  Trying to choose what to do is the kicker.