Summer Doings

Our Canadian home

Peter and I spent five months in Canada this year!  A record for us since starting our Milly adventure in November, 2014.  We enjoyed every minute of our stay - motoring between the cottage on Stony Lake, Em and Gid's home in Toronto, friends in Thornbury, Orillia and Bancroft and family in Waterloo and Danford Lake, Quebec.  We gave the cottage some TLC, celebrated Tom's olympic send off and success, learned of and excitedly anticipated the birth of our first grandbabe, and gave and received a lot of hugs.  We plan on making a trek back to Ontario to enjoy the Canadian summer, at least for the foreseeable future.  

Here are a few of many pics to get you updated to October 31 (I have been very negligent.):

Arrived at YYZ and received our PCR test with great efficiency.  Then bedlam began to get on and in the shuttle bus to our quarantine hotel, complete with (comfy) uniform and (pretty good) meals in cardboard.  

Our first views of home was not beautiful.  Concrete wasteland!

Sweet Emily, from a distance, delivered our new-to-us car which she had test driven and arranged purchasing for in our absence.  She also completed a long re-provisioning list for our 8 day quarantine at the cottage.  Wonderful daughter!

The season officially opens with the raising of the flag.  Summer has begun and we are in residence!

Peace and tranquility

Emily's traditional birthday celebration...

This time with dealc champagne.  She's pregnant!!  Yay!

So nice for me to be able to bake my girl a cake again in my mum's cake mold and plate.

A sailpast celebration at RCYC to send off the Olympians.  So wonderful to be included and see our boy off to Japan.

The t-shirt says it all.  We took him to the airport...

And cheered ...

And cheered!  Our annual cottage weekend with special friends was on again after a seven year hiatus.  And they cheered too!

Peter rebuilt his many inuksuks

And I began to replant my gardens

We completed our first carpentry job, learning to level, use a table saw and plumb.  Not sure how we ever did without an outdoor shower.

We enjoyed nature....

Watching Tom relax after placing 10th! at the olympics

...and dog-sitting for our most frequent guest, Stevie Nicks.  We loved her company.

And I think she loved ours, being allowed to go where no dog had been before.

The two hungry ones watching the dinner prep.

She loved everyone and everyone loved her.  Here with Tom and his girlfriend, Fernanda, visiting from Mexico.

We visited dear friends multiple times at their country home - lucky us

And took Stevie along

She loved it as much as we did.

We took three trips to Waterloo to visit with Peter's Dad and Liz.  This one particularly special with a luxurious overnight treat at Langdon Hall in Lisa and David's company.

Me following my big bro, Tim, just like I did as a little kid, on a superb hike in the Gatineau Hills

Neal and I still going up

A grand summer at Stony

Good night

See you next summer!

A Rude Awakening

Tyrrel Bay is crowded with well over 100 boats.  We were in about the middle, when a gale force gust challenged our anchor hold...at night,. Always at night.

We have not moved a lot.  As a matter of fact, instead of our usual wandering, we have been anchored in Tyrrel Bay, Carriacou for quite some time.  That means that Milly's bottom is scrubbed free of algae and barnacles every few days and our rope bridle grows it's own little garden of stringy sea moss.  It also means that we get to know many others in the anchorage.  We are leading weekly hikes, I am teaching swimming to local kids, we play dominoes and mollkie, snorkel and provision.  Nonetheless, we miss island/anchorage hopping and exploring.  We are a bit stuck in a rut - while we could move to at least one new island nation, the covid world of testing, quarantine, uncertainty and expense has made us lazy.

So when Peter commented that Tyrrel Bay really was a nice place to hang out (for months) as we were going to bed one night amid the stars, constant trade wind and balmy temperatures, I thought to myself, 'True, but I'm a little bored'.  I don't admit this easily - I am very, very rarely bored, there are just too many interesting things to do, to read, to listen to, to make, etc. etc.

I am aware that compared to our family and friends locked down in Canada, our life on this covid free island is as 'normal' as life can be at the moment.  I should be, and am, grateful each time we have a meal in a restaurant and especially when we socialize, even giving hugs to our friends.  But still....I'm a little antsy.

At 1:30 a.m. that same night, a loud howling wind brought sheets of pelting rain through the anchorage.  We collect rainwater to flush our freshwater toilets instead of using our precious, homemade desalinated water.  The rainwater is collected in an assortment of jerry cans which are fed via two hoses from the roof of our cockpit.  It's a fantastic system but requires a bit of juggling of full cans for empty.  Peter went out to do the transferring amid the tumult of the wind that was gusting at gale force.  As he looked about, I heard him call with some urgency - a tone that I very rarely hear and pay immediate heed to.  

Milly's anchor had released and she was dragging through the anchorage.  As I emerged outside, Peter was turning on the motors.  I was, to put it mildly, alarmed to see a boat only a few feet away.  As I ran forward and Peter, in his nonexistent pj's, attempted to get control of Milly who was sailing by her tall topsides and dragging her chain and anchor, we hit (Peter says "tapped" - he's so positive) the neighbouring boat.  Thankfully, the owner must have been sensitive to the sudden gale and had come out, fenders in hand, to keep us away.  I struggled with the new heavy bridle - bum in the air, and arm through the hole where the chain was taut and moving in all directions - being as careful as possible to keep my hand from being squished by the chain.   On my second pass through the cabin, to get a flashlight, I grabbed a raincoat to cover my already soaked body, at least hoping to lesson the cold and sting of the needle sharp rain drops.  I yanked the hood off as it was obscuring my vision.  When I finally got the bridle hook off the chain and could catch my breath, I pulled up the hood - I not sure why, I was sodden - only to have a hood full of water flow down my back.  Breathless again!

With the anchor up, Peter was able to get better control of Milly.  We edged out of the anchorage but in the pitch dark and pouring rain it was difficult to see fishing buoys and even boats especially when they had failed to put on anchor lights.  As we drifted by, some owners were on deck checking lines etc but for the most part all was quiet.  Once at the back of the anchorage we dropped our anchor.  It was after 3:00.  We were both soaking wet and freezing.  We could see the great red blob that had passed us on the radar.  It had yellow (worse than red) in the center and I think Milly had been it's target.

Our toe rail was dented.  We checked with the boat we had "tapped" and, thankfully, no damage.  Our friends were amazed at our misadventure.  Most had slept right through.  Our Rocna anchor which has held us in strong alternating tidal currents in rivers, through other gales and even in a tornado had given way from a spot where it had been holding for days in fresh trade winds.  Puzzling!  

The awakening was literally rude.  Jumping out of our warm bed to a crisis in the dark, cold and wet is not fun.  We were so darn lucky that Peter was up and noticed our wayward path.  Without an anchor alert system on, we would have crashed instead of tapped before being aware we were dragging.

However, in every other way the awakening was positive.

Complacency is not allowed at sea.  You never know what can happen when you live on a sailboat, even when you've been at anchor for weeks.

Keep the anchor alarm on each and every night, even when the forecast is clear.  You never know what local menacing winds will blow by.

And I have given boredom some thought.  For me, it happens when my subjective world becomes small and closed.  Opening my mind to the wider world around me, taking moments to enjoy the sensations, thoughts, experiences, puts boredom at bay.  Admittedly, sometimes it requires a deliberate search but it is always possible.  Life is as full and interesting as I choose to make it.

A view looking south, the larger island of Grenada in the background.

I may be antsy and restless to experience more but not bored .... because the wind gods may hear me and teach me a another lesson....a rude awakening!

New Year's Howl

Atop Welcome Rock, Grenada!

Climbing to Welcome Rock.  The tour van below could only go so far.  Our legs did the rest, up to the peak and over to the sensational view from the rock.

We celebrated the Old Year at Zulu Time (Greenwich Mean Time) or 8:00 p.m. Grenada Time.  We were on a British boat so entirely appropriate for the host and for us cruisers whose circadian rhythms are very much based on the sun - up at 0600 and winding down at 1800.

Christmas dominoes on Milly with crowns made by Tony, each with it's own title.  This was our third Christmas celebrating with Lea and Roland - Istanbul, Gran Canaria and now Carriacou. We had three straight nights of celebration in our superb 2020 bubble. 

Christmas decorations on Milly.  We found a Norwegian-flavoured bearded elf at a Carriacou "soap" shop and just had to buy him to oversee the others.

We had returned to Tyrrel Bay where we spent the three months of our lockdown just in time for Christmas to spend with dear friends - our six person Covid bubble.  It felt like we were returning home - hello to the fruit/veg vendor in his newly expanded shack/store, a broad, almost toothless grin and welcome from the roti maker/chef and a dazzling smile from the owner of our favoured beach bar. 

The boat name wall at Paradise Beach Club began just after lockdown when we were among the originals, painted by the establishment.  Now Alysson hosts a "Sip and Paint" so others can add their names.  It will soon become as famous as Horta for cruisers.

And very familiar views!  It was a great place to celebrate when we couldn't be with family.

After Christmas, we spent two glorious nights anchored off Saline Island, a small privately owned paradise just of the coast of Carriacou.  The clearest water we had seen in a long time, perhaps ever, made even more spectacular by the full moon shimmering on the bottom about 6 m below and making visible the night life of the sea.  Truly incredible!

Milly at Saline Island named after the salt pond in the middle.  Glorious water - in the sea, not the pond!

Aquafit.  The drone could even 'see' my legs from at least 50 feet in the air.

Seclusion!  A very strong current, whirled and swirled around us on the port side while on starboard the water was strong and flat.  I could get my exercise by swimming in one spot on starboard or doing the front crawl to go backward on port.

That's Lovely behind his bar at Lovely's Vegan Restaurant, the only building on Saline.  Full bar with extensive grills.

A full vegan meal with six dishes - clockwise from the top - some sort of soy dish flavoured like baked beans, lentil stew, potatoes with hot garlic sauce, green salad, grilled pumpkin, callaloo.  All delicious. 

The shimmering bottom through 6 meters of water.  Amazing!

We were so secluded that Peter could wear his white bathing suit.

We, along with about 200 other boats made for the relative protection of Tyrrel Bay for the high winds forecast January 1st and 2nd.  It was already crowded when we arrived on December 30th with no wind to speak of, an unusual occurrence in the Trades.  The boats on anchor were floating all over the place, direction dictated more by a haphazard current than anything else.  It made anchoring a bit of a guessing game - how would boats sit once the wind came up?  By the next day we were too close to a neighbour and decided to move across the ferry channel where only one other boat floated instead of trying to find space.  Charting on that side was inaccurate although standing on the bow, I could see and, with some vigour, gestured Peter to stop and reverse but..too late, we ran aground.  I think Peter fell for the crying wolf phenomena - my previous and, admittedly, sometimes needless caution made him rely more on poor charts than on overcautious wife.  We both learned a lesson!

With deft handling of the motors, he got us floating again and we anchored but dragged for many meters before catching - always a bad sign.  Peter dove on it to find the anchor was partially under broken coral pieces (poor holding) and caught on a rock.  It held us for now but we didn't feel all that comfortable with soon-to-arrive wind.  When the Coast Guard came by to whoosh us away, it made our decision to move easier.  We had unknowingly anchored in the quarantine area reserved for boats coming from other island nations.

Back across the channel to the crowd on the other side.  Found a spot and anchored nicely in the middle between two boats.  However, the sailor on our starboard side watched with an eagle eye, gesturing for us to leave, while standing on his bow.  Seemed a little unreasonable given that we were well away from his boat and our swing took us further.  The anchor was plunked down in sand.  We did not see the need to move.  Peter again went to dive on the anchor and it was hooked under a huge, very heavy chain, snaking over the bottom, discarded from days gone by.  With some assistance from friends and a special device called an "anchor thief", purchased in the Med where it's so crowded neighbours chains over anchors is a common occurrence, we managed to pick up our anchor and drop it downwind of the enormous chain.  Now the anchor was buried deep into sand and we felt ready for almost whatever the wind gods planned to open the new year with.

As we were enjoying our bubbly post Zulu New Year's, we could hear the wind come up.  Time to be off to cocoon and anchor watch on our own boats.  

Over the next two days, the wind howled.  Not much rain, just sunshine, cloud and gusty wind.  At night you could hear a strong gust arriving.  It sounded like a train approaching, beginning with a distant rumble and arriving with a roar, hard tug on the chain and a shudder.  Crews mostly hunkered down on their boats during the day.  A couple of boats dragged - two without crew.  One boat was pushed and pulled by six dinghies away from collision with a friend's boat.  Another, from the quarantine anchorage where we had discovered such poor holding, was slowly headed toward Panama before the crew returned - I guess they weren't in quarantine! 

We were not into our lockdown routine when we hadn't been allowed to leave the boat for weeks in March & April and were quite content.  Although we both had good books, we seemed to have time on our hands and a little more restlessness in our spirit.  We were happy when the wind eased on January 3rd and we could go for a New Year's tramp.

A few other notable events as we neared the end of 2020:

Peter's 60th birthday party on the beach playing Molkky with friends.  He is not a fan of cake but sandwiches are his fave.

We were honoured to be included in our first boat renaming ceremony, all according to strict script.  Neptune and the Four Winds drank a lot of champagne poured in dictated directions.  And Celtic Rose was born!

Rosemary requesting the blessings of the ones who count to sailors - Neptune and the Four Winds.  Tony waiting to make his champagne dedication.  Sailors are superstitious but no cruiser wants to risk breaking with the traditions, especially when it comes to the sea and wind.  Anyway, it was a fun party with lots of champagne for the sailors, too.

A tour of northern Grenada highlighted the petroglyphs.  Over 60 engraving dated from CE 500 was on this large boulder at the bottom of a deep gorge.

Milly also got some new canvas to dress up just before the holidays.  Her old windshield covers were disintegrating, her old cockpit cushion covers were splitting at the seams and her old sunshade was beyond even Peter's repair.

The new windshield cover should last a lifetime, the sunbrella cushion covers in "Storm" - a brave colour for a sailor - no longer stick to me and the sunshade is better than new.  Thanks, Ever After Canvas!  A great job!

And then there was a 65th birthday and multiple walks/hikes and meals out.  

 We feel very lucky to be in Grenada where we can be with friends.  The country did experience a spike in cases after a resort guest socialized with locals and other guests.  A curfew, quarantines and restrictions were enforced.  Through tracking and testing, numbers have now dropped to close to zero with the only active cases coming in by plane.  No community spread.  Quite remarkable!

Happy New Year!  It came in like a lion and will hopefully go out like a healthy, vaccinated lamb.