31 March, 2010
12 March, 2010
On Vacation
03 March, 2010
Warren
Location: French Cay Harbour, Roatan, Honduras
Position: 16 21.255 N 086 26.646 W
We are anchored inside the bounds of a Honduran marine park – no fishing is allowed within the park boundaries. Knowing this, a local fellow comes around the anchorage in his skiff a couple of times a week selling freshly caught fish out of a cooler. Warren is very personable and witty and we look forward to his visits.
The first day he showed up it was pretty rolly (blowing about 25 knots in the anchorage) and he was bouncing around pretty good in his skiff. He had fresh grouper that day. We haggled over the price - that’s a fact of life here - you never pay the asking price. We picked one out and he said he’d fillet it at no extra charge. He had no knife or cutting board so we handed ours over to him and he deftly filleted the grouper while bouncing all over the place. He had fun calling Mark “Castro” and giving us a hard time about how dull the knife was. Needless to say, Mark had it all sharpened up for Warren’s next visit.
Recently, he’s started calling us “Mr. Mark” and “Mama”. When he came by yesterday he told us he had decided to start growing a beard “like Mr. Mark’s”. Sure enough, there was new stubble on his chin. He also said that, if he likes someone, after they’ve bought from him three or four times he gives them a better deal. Then he threw in two extra conchs with our purchase. So we’re pretty sure he likes us, too.
We don’t buy from him every time he comes by, but we always look forward to his visits as he is invariably cheerful and has time for a chat. His selection is always different and varies from lobster to shrimp to wahoo to grouper to snapper to conch. We never know what he’s going to bring other than his sunny disposition and wit.
Position: 16 21.255 N 086 26.646 W
We are anchored inside the bounds of a Honduran marine park – no fishing is allowed within the park boundaries. Knowing this, a local fellow comes around the anchorage in his skiff a couple of times a week selling freshly caught fish out of a cooler. Warren is very personable and witty and we look forward to his visits.
The first day he showed up it was pretty rolly (blowing about 25 knots in the anchorage) and he was bouncing around pretty good in his skiff. He had fresh grouper that day. We haggled over the price - that’s a fact of life here - you never pay the asking price. We picked one out and he said he’d fillet it at no extra charge. He had no knife or cutting board so we handed ours over to him and he deftly filleted the grouper while bouncing all over the place. He had fun calling Mark “Castro” and giving us a hard time about how dull the knife was. Needless to say, Mark had it all sharpened up for Warren’s next visit.
Recently, he’s started calling us “Mr. Mark” and “Mama”. When he came by yesterday he told us he had decided to start growing a beard “like Mr. Mark’s”. Sure enough, there was new stubble on his chin. He also said that, if he likes someone, after they’ve bought from him three or four times he gives them a better deal. Then he threw in two extra conchs with our purchase. So we’re pretty sure he likes us, too.
We don’t buy from him every time he comes by, but we always look forward to his visits as he is invariably cheerful and has time for a chat. His selection is always different and varies from lobster to shrimp to wahoo to grouper to snapper to conch. We never know what he’s going to bring other than his sunny disposition and wit.
01 March, 2010
16 degrees
Location: French Cay Harbour, Roatan, Honduras
Position: 16 21.255 N 086 26.646 W
That’s our current latitude - 16 degrees 21 minutes north of the equator.
Our latitude last summer at Mt. Desert Island, Maine was 44 degrees 21 minutes north. Each minute of latitude equals one nautical mile, so that’s 1,380 nautical miles (or 1,588 statute miles) further south than we were just 6 months ago. If we travel seven degrees further south (420 more nautical miles) we’ll be south of the insurance companies “hurricane box”.
To date, we’ve traveled 12,270 nautical miles (or 14,120 statute miles) on Rachel since we’ve owned her - that’s a distance equal to more than half way around the world! Who’d have thought?
A friend recently emailed us. She and her family have been living aboard and cruising for almost 2 years. She freely admits that she’s always been afraid of sinking or smashing into stuff. The anticipation of thunderstorms, night watches, fog, and dragging anchor all have filled her with trepidation and given her many sleepless nights. She said they’ve suffered through several thunderstorms at anchor this year. Last year she used to stay up all night in the cockpit making sure the boat didn’t move. This year she goes up top, looks around, and when she sees everything’s okay, goes back down and sleeps. Julie wrote back to her and congratulated her on making the transition from “someone who is out cruising” to “someone who has become a cruiser”.
Looking back, we wonder when that happened for us. We remember with great clarity our first overnight sail on Rachel. How excited and nervous we both were, how beautiful the moon was that night. We think about how nervous we were the first time we talked on the ham radio and how naturally it comes to us now. And how embarrassing the first time we flew Rachel’s spinnaker ended up being. Then there was the time Rachel’s engine quit running right in front of the Spa Creek Bridge in Annapolis. And spending the night at anchor for our first gale. And the first fish we ever caught on Rachel. And, not so long ago, the first time we both got sea sick.
There have been so many “firsts” for us in this process. And it seems that all of them have slowly, over time, fitted together into a mosaic of experience from which we now draw strength and confidence. That seems to be pretty much how life works for all of us, doesn’t it? Like it or not, when we push ourselves (or are pushed) outside our comfort zone, we grow.
That’s pretty darned cool.
Mark & Julie
s/v Rachel
Position: 16 21.255 N 086 26.646 W
That’s our current latitude - 16 degrees 21 minutes north of the equator.
Our latitude last summer at Mt. Desert Island, Maine was 44 degrees 21 minutes north. Each minute of latitude equals one nautical mile, so that’s 1,380 nautical miles (or 1,588 statute miles) further south than we were just 6 months ago. If we travel seven degrees further south (420 more nautical miles) we’ll be south of the insurance companies “hurricane box”.
To date, we’ve traveled 12,270 nautical miles (or 14,120 statute miles) on Rachel since we’ve owned her - that’s a distance equal to more than half way around the world! Who’d have thought?
A friend recently emailed us. She and her family have been living aboard and cruising for almost 2 years. She freely admits that she’s always been afraid of sinking or smashing into stuff. The anticipation of thunderstorms, night watches, fog, and dragging anchor all have filled her with trepidation and given her many sleepless nights. She said they’ve suffered through several thunderstorms at anchor this year. Last year she used to stay up all night in the cockpit making sure the boat didn’t move. This year she goes up top, looks around, and when she sees everything’s okay, goes back down and sleeps. Julie wrote back to her and congratulated her on making the transition from “someone who is out cruising” to “someone who has become a cruiser”.
Looking back, we wonder when that happened for us. We remember with great clarity our first overnight sail on Rachel. How excited and nervous we both were, how beautiful the moon was that night. We think about how nervous we were the first time we talked on the ham radio and how naturally it comes to us now. And how embarrassing the first time we flew Rachel’s spinnaker ended up being. Then there was the time Rachel’s engine quit running right in front of the Spa Creek Bridge in Annapolis. And spending the night at anchor for our first gale. And the first fish we ever caught on Rachel. And, not so long ago, the first time we both got sea sick.
There have been so many “firsts” for us in this process. And it seems that all of them have slowly, over time, fitted together into a mosaic of experience from which we now draw strength and confidence. That seems to be pretty much how life works for all of us, doesn’t it? Like it or not, when we push ourselves (or are pushed) outside our comfort zone, we grow.
That’s pretty darned cool.
Mark & Julie
s/v Rachel
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