The Plane, The Plane!....Week 29

I'm jolted out of sleep by the shrill piercing sound of the fire detector as the genny is started and everything electrical comes alive. Doors opening and slamming shut, footsteps outside my door,shuffling up and down (and up and down) the hall, don't belong here.

My bedroom is right beside the kitchen so I can hear the annoying “beep” of the microwave.

The door of the walk in fridge emits a slight sound as the seal is broken and than the click of the big handle as it is shut. I hear these sounds over and over. As I lay in bed, I wonder what's cookin', for although I can hear everything not the slightest smell drifts my way, enticing me to get up. Conversation and laughter is heard from the dining room. I hear water being sprayed on dishes,the rattle of silverware being dropped in the sink. I can tell they now have their work boots on, stomp, stomp, stomp......silence. Time for me to rise and shine, well not so much shine but I do get up. An hour of coffee(s), reading, writing or on the computer, than it's time to do breakfast dishes, make another pot of coffee for the morning break, think about what to make for lunch, dinner and dessert. My days right now are not my own.

It was several weeks ago now that we were told the crew was coming in again to finish up a project that had been started in the fall. The 25^th arrived clear and calm so we knew the plane would be coming in. Up early( we had been surprised last time with an early morning email saying they were already in the air) we had everything ready and so the waiting game began.

By 2 o'clock and still no sign of the plane or an email, I packed up the lunch I had waiting just in case they were hungry. We have been here long enough that we know all the regular sounds and anything out of place is noticed instantly. “Do you hear it? That's the plane.” It surprises me everytime, just as I hear the plane, there she is touching down in the bay. It has to be almost overhead before we hear anything. It's 3:30.

An assortment of tool boxes, hoses, pipe and super sized wrenches that are all part of Brian's trade come out of the plane along with my food order. Fresh Produce!! It's been 107 days since the last plane and more than a few weeks since we've had something that hasn't come out of a can or freezer. What to eat first...a crisp apple, juicy orange, sweet melon or a banana?

My warm sunny days of last week are gone. It's turned cool again. The sun is making a feeble attempt to provide any sunshine, barely filtering through the layer of clouds that persist. At least it's not raining which is good news for the guys working outside.

The main mission accomplished on the diesel tanks and still another day to go before the plane is scheduled to return, odd jobs are found and there is always a lot of them to keep everyone busy. A pile of plywood is relocated, a new door hung, a support post is braced and the workbench put back to order with tools all neatly aligned.

Looks like a professional welder will have to be flown in to take care of some major work before the summer season begins. That means a few more days of crew in again..... and here I thought that Mike and I would go through the entire season not seeing anyone.

Tuesday is not a nice day, weather wise. Squalls charge in dashing hopes of the plane, than a batch of blue sky will peek through, lifting spirits. The waiting game begins. 

      We manage to connect around 2:30 and find an email from the airport saying that we can expect the plane around 3. “I hear the plane!” Everybody cock's their head, and listens. Yep, it's the plane! Jackets are grabbed, boots put on and out the door. All their belongings have been brought down to the heli pad ages ago. The pilot picks and chooses items, depending on size and weight, judging what should go where. Buckled in, a switch is flipped and the propeller comes alive. Mike and I are running up the dock as the light rain is turning into a heavy downpour. I look back to see the plane taxi out to the middle of the bay and than within seconds she is pushing water and is airborne.

Till next week,

Heather & Mike

The Three PPP'S

I had my head in the oven the other day, cleaning out several months of spill overs, all part of that spring cleaning gene that goes into overdrive around this time every year. I could head in that direction, of this need to clean or I could tell you a tale of an oven, a blackened turkey, threats of desertion, rallying the troops and winning the battle.

“Let me show you how to light the stove, first you pump...” ( I've gone with the stove story)

“ What do you mean , show me how to light the stove, what the f*#!* kinda stove is this?”

“ Like I said, first you pump, than prime, than pre-heat and presto your cooking with gas. Well kerosene actually.”
I'm thinking who in their right mind would buy such a thing. Someone who obviously doesn't cook.
“ I got it for next to nothing”, Mike says so proudly. I would have taken the nothing.
Being madly in love and wanting to show what a good boat person I could be, I learned to pump, prime and preheat.

Slowly making our way down the ICW, we found ourselves at St. Simon’s Island for Christmas.
Hadn't planned on that but that again hadn't planned on the storm at sea, or losing an anchor and chain, or a snowfall in Georgia, or a bilge full of used oil or a blackened turkey.
Stuck here with half a doz other boats due to the fact that the bridges weren't opening I decided to cook a turkey and invite everyone over for Christmas dinner. The 25^th brought clear blue skies and warm winds. This meant the bridges were back on schedule and everyone wanted to hit the road to make previous commitments. This left me with a 17 lb bird in the oven. Late afternoon plumes of black smoke started to waft from the oven. I'm not a expert on the workings of kerosene stoves but I don't think this is suppose to happen.

Do I scream or cry. The term “blackened” is a method of preparing fish or chicken using a mix of spices and a extremely hot pan. My blackened turkey was just plain black. Really black. Black like soot. The only saving grace was that the turkey was cooked. Tackling the bird wearing rubber gloves, I managed to peel off all the skin, I know...this is the best part. Mike and I ate turkey all week ( no freezer on board) and the smokey taste was actually pretty good.....not that I would try to repeat this method but it wasn't a complete loss.

It is now mid April and the bloom is off the rose. I don't have to love everything about the cruising life. I have learned to live with pumping the toilet and pumping up the dinghy but I have had it up to here with pumping the stove. My views were known to all in our anchorage where we had spent the last 3 ½ months. Everyone was on my side.

“For god sakes man, get your woman a new stove, it'll be a lot harder to replace her.”
It was good to have the male team on my side.
Dania Nautical Flea Market held once a year for 3 days is a boater's heaven on earth and only a week away. Strategy was discussed, options were tossed back and forth and a game plan was formed.
Cars were rented, time, directions and pit stops confirmed. I think we were ready.
Our group of 16 were 1 – 16 in the line-up. Our anticipation grew like a group of teenagers waiting for a sighting of Justin Bieber ( well maybe not that frantic) but we were excited. Eighteen wheelers marked the perimeters of the 2 acre Jai Alai parking lot, a massive white tent marked the bull's eye( this was also the beer tent) row upon row of vendors were eagerly waiting to take our money.

Biminis, toilets, hatches, scuba gear,fishing tackle, anchors, props, rope, line, winches and hardware. Bathing suits (ohhhh bathing suits) books, charts, flags, radios, radar, roller furlings. Look beyond all this because we have a mission. We are on the hunt for a propane stove. The keeper of the gate finally stood aside and we would have put those teenyboppers to shame the way we charged in. Heading off in a dozen different directions, we had purpose. The team did good. Within half an hour a stove was found, Mike was found to inspect it, I was found to say yea or nay and a deal was struck.

I loved my new shiny stove. I loved that I could just turn the knob and a flame would appear ...like magic. No more PPP.

Mike's joy came from the fact that after he converted the natural gas jets to propane ( $20.00) he sold the 50 lb tank which came with it and in the end got the stove for next to nothing.

It's More Than Just A Shower

In my post titled “Meltdown” I made brief mention of how wonderful it was to take a real shower after 13 days of lathering up and sluicing off from a stockpot. This got me thinking of all the memorable showers I have stored in my hippocampus.

 They say this little area of the brain is shaped like a seahorse. Hmmm.... interesting...seahorse, water, memories, there's definitely a connection here. Funny the events that stay with us.....that leave a lasting memory. Other people remember a home run hit in 6 th grade, the first day of your first job, the day you proposed. Some of my brain cells have decided to set aside room for the simple shower. Of course it's more than just a shower, it's the events leading up to it.

“Sure I'm game for sailing back, it'll be fun”

I hadn't thought this one through and before I knew it was sitting in the tiny cockpit of a tiny sailboat, 2 am, on lake Ontario in October. To add to the insanity I was dressed more for the party we had been at rather than the pre-dawn sail that I had agreed too.

This being only my third experience ever on a sailboat I didn't think heeling over to the point of my elbow skimming the sea was unusual. Naivety can be a good thing.
The captain of the vessel had long since retired to his bunk, as a matter of fact only minutes after we hoisted the sails and set a course. We'd been duped.
How amusing was it when that first wave rolled down the deck, missed me and soaked Mike, not so much the second time as it arched over him and found me as it's target. Eternity is 4 hours.

 The hull barely made contact with the dock when I was up and out of there. Taking only seconds to go aboard our boat, grab a towel, jeans, t-shirt, it was up to the shower house I was headed. Scalding water for 20 minutes brought tingling feelings back to my limbs and my neck and shoulders which had been in “turtle” mode could once again relax.

Wanting to learn all about being a sailor sometimes doesn't involve water. We were on the 'hard' or in the boatyard if you not up on all your boat jargon. Our date for untieing the dock lines and beginning the journey south was in sight so it was time to do her bottom....translation, hauling out and painting the part of the boat that sits under the water. This didn't sound so bad, couple days of sanding, I like to sand, and I'll wear my new bathing suit (I think it was a birthday present) to work on my tan at the same time....multi-tasking or just plain dumb?

 From that day on I was known around the marina as “smurf”. Who knew that sanding bottom paint was such a dirty job, oh by the way the paint was blue. It was the longest shower I have ever taken, maybe the longest shower ever. Is there a category in the Guinness World Book of Records for this event?

 

Let The Sun Shine In......Week 28

The March lion who has been hanging on by his claws has finally let go.
The sun is now shining in places which haven't felt it's rays for months. We are spending a lot more time outside, wandering through the forest looking for changes that the winter had brought. A tree not far from the lodge bears a fresh scar, 30 feet up it's trunk. This gash is a mystery to how it got there.
New sounds are in the air. Constantly chattering squirrels appear everywhere, sometimes being chased by Ingram who is also feeling invigorated. Fat Cat ( Brock) managed to come out of the basement to air himself out and sit in the sun.

The melody of birds singing in the early morning is a welcome sign of spring. I almost don't want to turn the genny on and disturb the sound of silence.

    This is the perfect spot to sit and enjoy the sun and I have a feeling I will be spending a lot of time here. The cats also agree.

   While I worship the sun, Mike is more interested in getting out onto the water. It won't be long

    now till we start to go out fishing.

                                 Even the floation tanks under the heli pad are coming alive.

   Don't know what got into this guy but he spent the day sitting here and fighting off others who

   wanted to try it out.

                            It' been a long long time since we've seen the sun shine in the lodge.

   I had looked forward to witnessing the "supermoon" which was to appear last Saturday night.

I waited and waited but it was so low in the sky that it never cleared the tree tops behind the lodge.

This shot was taken on February 18.

Till next week from the "Outpost"

Heather & Mike

Fishing For Dinner

“What do you feel like for dinner, I'll go spear something before we head out.”

Mike had taken to spearing with an Hawaiian sling like a fish to water.

 Snapper, yellow tail, Spanish mackerel, wahoo, lobsters and conch were all there for the taking in the gin clear waters of the Bahamas. A smorgasbord of fresh delicious fish. “Why don't we skip it today and try for a shark?”

The previous evening we had dined on shark, caught and prepared by a friend. I was surprised how good it was. “I've devised the best rig for hooking these beasts”, claimed Ron. OK, I'll bite.

On our sail over to Green Turtle the next day we scrounged through our stores of spare parts, paraphernalia and all the junk that you never know when you will need it, so it doesn't get tossed out, to find the needed items for our shark rig.

Within sight of the anchorage we couldn't help but notice the sea of sticks. Something was going on.

Our friends had always joked that Canadian Freight anchors so far out that they are half way to the next anchorage, and this time was no different. The hook was dropped and set, we had changed into our going ashore clothes and off we went into town to see what was happening. Much later heading back to CF...... “Timed that right didn't we, never knew they had a regatta week in the Abacos.”

“ And there's nothing a cruiser likes more that great music, free food and an open bar!”

“It's a little late but lets try for that shark, we have everything ready.”

Using 120 lb test line, a bicycle tube, a snapper we had kept on ice, a bleach bottle, a really BIG hook and a stainless pot lid we set the trap. Sleep came instantly and I would have sworn it had been only minutes, when we heard the pot lid skidding across the deck. Clamouring up the companionway, the effects of the rum punch ( Bahamians make a wick rum punch) could still be felt. With gloves on, Mike hand lined the thrashing shark, we are assuming it is a shark, to the side of the boat.

 Whoaa...a bit bigger than we had planned on. Rough guess 6 ft reef shark. Fifteen minutes of frantic tail lashing and banging it's head against the hull played him out enough for Mike to lasso his tail and haul him up using the boom which he had swung over. “ OK now you cut off his head and gut him.” Our arrangement when it came to fish was, Mike caught them and I cleaned them. I definitely got the short end of the stick on this deal.

Off with his head! A forceful plunge of the butcher knife into it's belly, than a quick downward thrust sliced him open. Job accomplished but what a bloody mess! Swinging the boom inboard we lowered the remaining torso onto the cockpit table. “Holy Shit!!!!! Did you see that, he's still moving.” This kinda freaked us out. Made my skin crawl. It was at this point we noticed 2 things....

1. We were covered in blood.
2. We were naked.

Several buckets of warm sea water took care of the blood and a long t-shirt took care of the nakedness.

I made quick work of cutting off thick fillets and tossing them into buckets of sea water, as to Ron's instructions. Job done, deck rinsed off, back to bed, instantly asleep.

Enjoying a very late morning coffee in the cockpit we noticed 2 things.....

1. We were no longer on the fringes of the anchorage but now surrounded by 20 new boats.
2. As early morning shoppers returning to their boats dinghied past us, our waves and morning greetings were met with half hearted responses and curious looks.

Yuck is how I will describe our lunch of shark. Must have done something wrong, certainly wasn't as good as Ron's. Our efforts of the previous night was now fish feed. A hamburger ashore hit the spot, no more fish for today.

Chatting and checking out other vessels on our return trip kept our attention off our own boat till we were almost home and that's when we saw it. Blood, lots of blood, a bloody massacre, all down the side of our white coloured hull where we had dragged up our midnight catch.

Ahhhhh.........so that's why the strange looks and dinghies taking a wide berth around us.

I think we may have to go around and do some explaining but than again maybe not.

Just A Thought

Out of the blue the other night I said to Mike, “if you could lose weight by thinking you'd be a stick.” I meant this in a nice way.                                                                               

 Ever since we have seriously considered building another boat Mike has had his thinking cap on. He can focus so intensely that I could parade around the lodge stark naked (really though it's too cold for that) or in a full suit of foul weather gear complete with the rubber boots and fishing rod ( this would be fishing for attention) and he still wouldn't look up from his computer

While he continued to measure and calculate, still ignoring me, I got to thinking what if you could shed a pound or 20 by thinking. Would I have to think skinny thoughts? What would a skinny thought be? Maybe I could pick the brain of a vegan, they always look thin. To burn more calories I could think harder. Maybe do a crossword puzzle or try to figure out the tax form, that should be good for 100 calories. I'm picturing myself at the gym pumping iron, I'm thinking really hard how I'm sweating and feeling those muscles burn. I'm picturing the hard bronzed body of the sexy trainer standing over me in electric blue spandex biking shorts (it's my thoughts so he's wearing biking shorts) ......whew those fat cells are just melting away. I'm going to go the the gym everyday maybe even twice.

If you dream a lot, bonus for you. Dreaming is thinking right, just at a subconscious level........just a thought. ( that's 10 calories!)

Get Me To A Store

I'm having an urge.......to shop. I want to buy something. Not so unusual except for 2 things.

1. I'm really not a shopper. (anymore)
2. I am in the middle of nowhere

Regarding #1 .... There was a time, another life, a younger life when shopping had purpose and was a task that one had to do for so many reasons. A hot Friday night date, Sunday brunch, feeling fat, lost a pound, Wednesday, rainy days, sunny days, Saturday.

What happened? When did I stop saying those 5 words that no man will ever understand, “I have nothing to wear.”

I blame Mike. “Come sail away with me and all you'll ever wear is a bathing suit and flip flops,  flip flops not so romantic.

 I hoped he had plans on cruising further south than Lake Ontario cause a wardrobe of bikinis and sarongs wouldn't exactly keep a girl warm during the 10 months of chillier weather. If it's not in the 80's than it's cold and you can't tell me any different. Being spontaneous, some may (did) say that I was nuts, I packed my bags ( total of 7) and tossed all caution to the wind.

A life of living in bathing suits? At one point I did own 32 and still didn't have a thing to wear.

Regarding # 2..... There is not a mall in sight, in fact there aren't even any roads. That leaves the internet. I've done a bit of shopping on-line. Why just last week I booked a flight and made hotel reservations but that's not really shopping. Flipping from site to site, that's not really true, I can't flip. It's more like a commerical break, you click on the site than you can get up for another coffee, go outside to stretch your legs, take a pee. By the time you get back it should be up. Take a look around, than click on to the next store. Get up.....thinking about it, it's sorta like shopping with all the walking I do inbetween. I like the places where I can actually try the item on, virtually of course but I think they could be better. Going beyond the vaguely similar body type, who am I kidding I never looked like that. Why isn't there a site where we fill in our dimensions ( I'll be honest... honest ) and upload our picture onto the body....create an avatar to take shopping.

 Maybe there is something out there like that but I haven't come across it. Back to shopping. Anitcipation mounts as you finally come across that perfect article and decide to take the plunge. Your almost there, a few more stokes. Your so close. Feeling that slight rush you click on BUY NOW. It's done, over, fini. Why do I feel let down, disappointed? Where is the gratification? Where is the item ? It all happened so fast. Shopping online is like that.

 

 

The Effects of Isolation - Week 27

It's been 209 days now. Just Mike and me.... and the two cats of course and the two deer that are around a lot these days and there is the raccoon. They can be entertaining at times but not so much into conversations. We've had company for a total of 10 days but other than that, it's just the two of us. Good job we get along.The effects of isolation can have a number of different faces, some more noticeable that others

CONVERSATION

“Talk your ear off” is an understatement. I pity the poor souls (summer crew) whom we will spend a day or two with before we fly out. Good thing the resort is large and lots of places to hide.

“Love to hear more but I really have to go. Ken wants me to count all the trees in the forest before lunch”

“Oh just a sec, that's my cell vibrating and I have to take it” (we don't get a signal here)

“Was that Ken calling me? Yep that's Ken. Coming Ken, be right there”

Poor Ken, I wonder how he'll manage to escape us.

APPEARANCE

I had a dream. We were walking down the main street in Port Hardy when I noticed
 that Mike was wearing his favourite sweats i.e baggy, ventilated ones, a “crew” t-shirt that had seen better years and his bed-head hair would have scared Medusa.

Looking down at my own feet I see slippers and my favourite plaid flannel jammies. Guess we forgot to get dressed.

Nine months with only each other to look at primping and preening eventually dwindles down to brush your teeth, toss some water on your face....done. Ready for the world. We can go days without getting dressed, not that we walk around the lodge in the buff. You know I hate to be cold, but when we get dressed in the morning it's always into pyjamas for me, sweats for Mike. Not unusual to have a day or 2 or 7 of rain and if there isn't anything major that needs to be taken care of outside, than pyjamas is the dress for the day. It's not like someone is going to drop by unexpected for a coffee and chat.

Once back in the real world Mike and I are going to have to make a effort to comb our hair and put pants on before we venture outside.

TOPICS

There is nothing too small or mundane to get up to look at, discuss or comment about.

Just this morning something sounded different. It was a beaver, as in air plane.

“I hear a plane”

“So do I”

Grab the camera and out to the deck we go.....in our pyjamas.

"Can't see it yet but can hear it”

“Yup, there it is. It's a plane alright”

“Wonder what their doing here? Think they might land here?”

“Maybe their landing in the other bay.”

“Think so? Wonder why they would be landing in the other bay?

“Maybe their meeting that fishing boat we keep seeing.”

“Think so? Haven't seen the fishing boat in a couple of days, have you?”

“Looks like their heading back this way”

“Yeah it does, wonder if they can see me waving? Think they can see me waving?”

“ Looks like their leaving now, yep their gone."

“Ohhhhh they are. I wonder where they are headed now? That was nice to see a plane. Haven't seen a plane for months. Do you see the raccoon down there..... on the beach?

I wonder what he's digging for? What do you think he's looking for?

Get the drift?

Till next week,

Heather & Mike

Cockpit Conversation

The energy draining heat of the day has finally lessened to a more bearable level.

Ice clinking against metal in the tall thermal mugs is the most prominent sound as another round of margaritas is poured. The group lounges in the cockpit, an array of colour coming from their tropical shirts and sarongs. The richness of their deep tans betraying the hours spent under the sun.

“.....never given us a minute of a problem, no matter what we flush down it.”

“Lucky you, our first days in Nuka Hiva was spent banging hoses.”

“Don't you flush your salads? Ohhh best thing ever for the hoses and those rubber thingies.”

“You even flush the paper? God, I wish Bob could be convinced of that. He's one of those who's mantra is “if you didn't eat it, you don't flush it” Drives me crazy!”

“What make do you have? We have a Lavac, bought it 3 years ago now and the suction on that baby is as good as the day Stan installed it. Of course I wanted the electric model but you know how men are, “What's wrong with pumping?”

“Right, pump baby pump! Maybe after dinner you can get Bob to take a look?”

“No problem, I'll ask him to flush the salad!”

No matter where you are or who you are sitting beside, if you are in a group of cruisers than sooner or later ( always sooner) “heads” will be the topic of conversation.

It's something that bonds us together. We refer to it's attributes and wear them as a badge of honour. We boast about our clean hoses, proclaiming that we flush vinegar through them religiously. We discuss electric vs manual, we compare how much can actually be flushed without mishap, size is always an issue.

It's a non-sexist topic. I can tell the story of the discharge hose disconnecting during an electric flush and flailing about like a demon snake, to either Tom or Jane, knowing they'll be sympathetic and understanding. Another tale of woe will follow trying to best the one just told, no tidbit of disgusting detail left out. An interruption as another drink is offered, pauses but will not stop the vivid descriptions of unthinkable events that have taken place in this very small room.

“That was a fabulous dinner Jill, loved the salad.”

“Thanks Bob, oh by the way, grab the rest of that salad and follow me....

 

 

Top Of The World

How was I to know which line to tie off and which to slowly “let out.” I wasn't a boater.

“Can anyone..... hey Jerry? Frank? Bill? Stan? Anyone?.... come and help me out here?

Mike's voice from the top of the 61ft mast definitely had a tone of fear. We had been together now for 10 months and my decision to sail south, sail away, sail into the sunset with him had been made. The fact that I knew nothing about boats didn't bother me in the least. Didn't seem to bother Mike either so why would I worry? “You'll learn along way” he kept saying. Sounded reasonable to me.

Having to install a light, a wind vane or some doohickey on top of the mast, maybe wasn't the best choice of jobs to teach me about lines, ropes, winches and tieing off.

His logic was I wouldn't know what to do up there......duh....I don't know what to do down here. I should have felt more confident, obviously Mike felt I could do it.

He “arranges” himself ( men, you know what I'm talking about) into the bosun's chair.

We go through the procedure of wrapping the line around the winch, loosening this rope, taking up the slag on this one, don't let go of this one, close this stopper......

You lost me at “ wrap the line.....

Ready to ascend, I position myself and start to crank. So far so good. Whew.. hard work, I crack some more. Mike's toes are now skimming the deck and he's rearranging himself again. I guess sitting on a board which is 10” long and 14” wide just isn't all that comfortable and the straps that go between his legs seem to cause a bit of discomfort.

I'm thinking that possibility in the 15^th century, which was a time in history when devises of torture were being introduced, there must have been an inventor named Bosun. His descendants who may have followed in his footsteps designing present day articles of pain and discomfort are likely responsible for such items as neckties, stilettos and the universal remote.

Two thumbs up, we're ready to crank again. From deck to top of the mast is 57ft. Inch by inch, higher and higher. Stopping at each speader to put his feet on something solid and yes, rearrange, I take a break, prying my fingers off the winch handle and straightening my back. I think Mike should have been the cranker and me being so much lighter, the crankee.

“So do I just untie this one now?”

That's when the realization of the choice he had made hit home. His pleas for help must have struck a cord among all men within hearing distance. Like a dog hearing a high pitched whistle they all came a runnin!

I don't think Mike has ever really gotten over that incident. It's buried deep but I'm sure it's there.

These days when anything has to be done on the mast, 9 times out of 10, I will do it.

The bosun's chair was most definitely designed for maximum discomfort to men only. I can sit on it, in it, quiet comfortably. The fear factor is minimal, I wear a safety harness (think it was a birthday present) that a second line is attached to. Mike is all about safety.

Having to take the mast down one year to run new lines inside it, we installed folding steps, the entire length. Ascending the “stick” is now a breeze.

 

 

 

 

No Espanol

We had managed to sail through Mexico, El Salvador and Costa Rica knowing only the bare necessities of the Spanish language.

Cerveza.......beer

la cantidad de..... how much

vino.....wine

bano.....bathroom

uno – veinte....1 – 20

ron....rum

hielo.....ice

Like I said the basics. Maybe we were lazy not to learn more, yeah we were, but we managed.

There's not even the slightest chance if we were at a party and they were playing charades that Mike would participate but he did charades every time we had to go searching for something that wasn't in our limited vocabulary.

How would you mime, plastic hose for toilet? Your thinking about it aren't you?

Bahia de Caraquez is a lovely little seaside town in Ecuador and was the first time we didn't have the convenience of an big shiny sanitized grocery store. You went to the market for produce or fish or flowers. Than there are the street vendors, the bakeries and of course the butcher shops.

My first experience to the butcher, was by myself. Mike “the mime” was off doing charades elsewhere. It was something to write home about ,which I never did so I'll tell you.

Picture a store front without the front glass window, instead there is a counter. Inside the small concrete block shop are buckets and tubs of raw meat sitting on half a dozen tables. I'd heard that this particular butcher had refrigeration but he must have wanted to keep it a secret since there wasn't a fridge in sight. The glass jar of murky pinkish water holding an assortment of knives and cutting boards covered in previous butchered meats complete the scene.

It was a busy shop. I feel a little out of place among the late morning shoppers who are rapidly discussing the price of meat, world peace or for all I know, who got lucky last night. I didn't hear any of my “words” so I really couldn't join in the conversation. I wait and watch. It's my turn. I know what I want but of course don't know how to say it. Nearby was a tub piled high with chickens, so I point. The 20 something, young man behind the counter smiles and starts to shove a huge chicken into a very small bag. I shake my head. He looks a little confused, dumps the chicken back into the bucket and picks up another one, than starts the process again of trying to fit one super sized chicken into one very small plastic bag. It was almost indecent as he had his entire hand inside the chicken trying to force it into a bag that was meant more for a couple of wings not the whole dam bird. Again I shake my head. The 3 elderly ladies waiting patiently on the sidewalk in the 80 plus degree heat appeared to be enjoying the whole exchange. Glad I could provide a little entertainment. I pointed once again to the bucket of chickens, than not knowing what else to do, I stepped back from the chest high counter, straightened my shoulders and pointed to my breasts.

Ahhh...Pechuga, the 3 women said in harmony. Continuously nodding and repeating the word pechuga, they turned their attention to the young man behind the counter, who is now a deep shade of red. Don't know what he's embarrassed about, I was the one on the sidewalk thrusting out my “assets” and pointing at them.

I became a regular and continued to highlight body parts depending on what I wanted for dinner.

Tsunami - Outpost, Haida Gwaii

Mike and I heard of the earthquake in Japan moments after it hit. Between the radio and internet we followed the events till early in the morning.

Estimated times of arrival of a tsunami for the west coast varied from 6 am to 8:35 so the alarm clock was set early. We had discussed all the “what if's” and had a plan should things take a turn for the worse. The 300 ft hill directly behind the lodge would offer protection but between all the snow and rain we've been having, it would certainly be a challenge to climb.

The morning dawned under pale blue skies and the sea dead calm. It was 8:45 when we noticed the first ripple. Just beyond our little bay the water was started to dance.

With just the slightest indication that something was happening, the water level began to rise. There are no waves or rushing of water. As Mike keeps saying, it's just like a bathtub being filled and emptied. For the next 3 hours we've marvelled as the bay, in a matter of minutes would drain, leaving the tinney high and dry than right before our eyes, fill up again. In the time it took to get another coffee there would be 12ft of exposed beach where it had been under water just before I turned away. We will continue to watch throughout the day and should the bay suddenly turn dry, you know where we will be.

Heather & Mike 

 

Meltdown.....Week 26

We had a major meltdown this week. Not a Jack Torrance (The Shining ) type of melt down but a meltdown which has turned our winter wonderland to slush. This is a good thing. The days have been a succession of blue skies and puffy clouds.....crap!

I want the heavens to open up and sent us a torrent of rain. Pleeease.

There's a simple explanation for this unusual request, our water line is frozen.

Our supply of water comes from a stream which flows into a small tank down at the crew shack, which we than pump up to 2 holding tanks. From there a pipe leads into the lodge. This 80 ft section runs underground in places and above ground in others and is gravity fed. Somewhere (we've narrowed it down to the underground areas) is frozen solid. That is why I want rain.

We live in a rain forest on the edge of the ocean and not a drop of water.... in the pipes. Twelve days now and counting. Mike and I are not strangers to the opportunity to be resourceful, self-reliant or thinking outside the box.
 Two years ago while at another lodge we went 6 weeks without running water. Actually we did have running water but it was located outside, as in mountain stream. Who needs to go the the gym when everyday I got a workout hauling up buckets of water to the cabin. I didn't even have to pay the $3.50 for a bottle of crystal clear, mountain fed, pure rejuvenating H2O. To think I used it to flush toilets!

Back to the OP. Not knowing what to expect but always thinking “what if” Mike filled 15, 20L containers full of rainwater, which took all of 2 days. Had a lot of rain in the fall.“That should get us through a freeze” or so we thought. Unbelievable how much water you use in the course of a day. In the blink of an eye it was gone and although there is a supply of bottled drinking water in 20L containers, I just couldn't literally pour it down the drain. I have some idea just how expensive these jugs of water are, having to ship them in by barge. Just when it looked like I'd be hitting the gym again, lugging seawater, a solution fell from the sky. Snow and lots of it.

I had a good little system going and within 2 hours each day I had enough water for dishes, flushings and bucket showers. Just the necessities. At least once a day I'd find myself turning on a tap, old habits die hard.

Update and other stuff.

Late yesterday afternoon the water started to flow. Utilizing the wet vac we took turns sucking water through the line, trying to create more than just a trickle. Whether it was this maneuver or the rain (be careful what you wish for) water flowed forth. With exuberance I tackled a pile of dishes.The sound of the washing machine making the weird noises that it sometimes makes, music to my ears. Now it was my turn! All this fuss over having water once again – hey if you've never been without than you've never experienced the feeling of luxury that a 30 minute shower can give after 13 days of bathing from a "stockpot."

Other stuff.

Since I started writing this insight of a caretaker's life 26 weeks ago I have always thought about posting it on a host site. I bit the bullet and finally have it up and running. Some of you receive my blogs because I send them to you ( hope you read them) and I've been told that quite a few are forwarded on to friends of friends, which I'm delighted by.

Just this week the http://www.westcoastfishingclub.com/ has started to post them on their new website. Each week I will still post an article about what has happened at the “Outpost” but along with that, other thoughts, adventures ( past & present), pictures and just stuff that comes to mind will round out the blog. I hope you keep reading and now it will be easier than ever to send me a quick note or comment.

http://www.alwaysatsealevel.blogspot.com/

Till next week,

Heather & Mike

A Love Affair

I've written just about everything I love at the Outpost but haven't mentioned the washer and dryer. Usually not an item that warrants love not even a mild affection, but I bet you have a washer and dryer and always have.

Living aboard suits me fine, I like being on the water and able to change my neighbours neighbourhood when the mood strikes, but there is a downside and laundry tops the list. If your lucky the marina will have facilities, all that you'll have to do is schlep everything up the dock.

 I had a waggon, not a red “Flyer” but a heavy duty tough plastic fold-able job with big wheels. It was blue. I think is was a birthday present.

That scenario is if you are lucky, otherwise you now have to go the extra mile, packing it all in the car, cart included, that's why it's fold-able, and drive to the closest cleaning station. More wasted time.

Now we get to my situation, walking.

 First you find the largest backpack that you own, stuff it till the seams start to stretch apart, repeat will smaller one which you will carry in your arms. Load all pockets with quarters, loonies,toonies bounce sheets, bottle of water, maybe some candies, bag of chips, chicken, peanut butter sandwich, book......think that about covers it. On cooler days if I wear my Ecuadorian cap, the one with the ear flaps, I could easily be mistaken for a Sherpa.

Never thought to add that to my list of “previous jobs”, have to keep that one in mind.

During a 4 year period when I was working 60+ hours a week, Mike, considerate man that he is, bought me a washer and dryer. I think it was a birthday present. His reasoning was now I wouldn't have to go out one night a week to enjoy the social life at the local wash, fluff and fold. The washer fit nicely under our bed in the V-berth. This worked out better than I would have ever guessed. By throwing in a load 15 minutes before retiring for the night I would get the benefits of the spin cycle......providing a nice shoulder and neck massage. Would this qualify as multitasking?

Once I didn't do laundry for 2 ½ years. Hallelujah! Who knew from Mexico all the way down to Ecuador that laundromats would be so scarce. What I did find in each little town were several woman who did do laundry. This was a business and to do my part, helping these enterprising hard-working ladies, I would drop off a bag of dirty clothes every week to be washed. What a pleasure to return the following day to find everything clean, folded and doubled bag. Now all I had to do was get it back to the boat... in the dinghy.... through the surf.... dry.

Best service for laundry: Bahia de Caraquez – they would come right to your boat, out in the anchorage and pick up your laundry bag. Still sipping your morning coffee in the cockpit, they would be there bright and early the next day with your clean clothes, maybe some bottled water you ordered or a tank of propane that had been refilled. Sweet.

Back to the present. The laundry room at the OP is on the main floor and it's a treat to toss a few items in and spin the dial. My days as a pack mule are over. ....for now.

It's also very handy to the shower room which is just a few steps down the hall.

Mike has been known to disrobe, tossing everything right into the washer (sure beats the floor) and dart down the hall to shower. To be fair I have also been known to do the “strip and dash.”

Air Time

Am I an rarity or just odd, to admit that I love hanging out at airports? We're flying back east to visit family this summer and already I'm looking forward to heading to the airport. In fact I enjoy the whole process of getting to the destination which for us will entail a bus ( 6 hours) a ferry ( 2 hours) another bus, a subway, a 5 hour flight ( red-eye economy, I saw you shudder) than another bus or buses to get us to our final destination. From start to finish 22 hours.

I haven't racked up many air miles but I'm lucky enough to get into the skies every few years. Our flights seem to always end up being marathon events. A few years ago after delivering a catamaran to Tahiti from Ecuador, our return passage took us to Honolulu (24 hour lay over) than on to LAX, arriving at 6am with a 12 am departure for Costa Rica, 2 hour lay over than on to Quito, switch to smaller plane that on to Manta, where we than had only a 3 hour taxi ride ahead of us till we reached our home sweet home. I had over packed to the point of insanity, at least 10 separate pieces of luggage and boxes, not ONE item was lost, misplaced, misdirected or damaged. Thank god those ridiculous extra fees for extra bags hadn't been thought of yet.

I can cruise around an airport for hours and never get bored. People watching is as good a reality show as it gets. After getting rid of our bags than standing in line waiting for the requisite pat down, which reminds me, what is it about my looks that I always get asked to step aside and get the extra groping? Am I sending out some sort of vibe that's saying,  "hey I wouldn't mind a little extra attention here.” I just go with the flow, because that's me. Not really meaning to (maybe it was the “bad” devil on the shoulder)  I once managed to get the better of the security officer, a.k.a groper. When asked to raise my hands above my head , I spun around planted them high on the wall and spread them, just like in the movies. She was speechless and realized I was causing a little too much attention in her direction. I was told to put my things back on and “proceed.” Translation: get moving smartass!

The grand prize for travelling with monstrous loads of luggage ( I use this term loosely) goes to..... Tahitians. Prices in the south pacific are totally outrageous but not flights to Hawaii. This may explain why everyone was dragging coolers through the airport to check in. We're not talking about your picnic cooler that holds a chicken and a doz beers. These mega-size 264 quart coolers could accommodate an entire cow and likely did ,since many of them were actually packing meat in them to bring back home. I kid you not.

Starting up a conversation (which Mike will do, can do and does do everywhere) with a couple of women sitting next to us because we were kinda curious about the bags they were lugging around. Each of these bags were the size of .....well lets just say that Mike and I could have jumped into one, together, tied the top and flown as baggage. What was in them, couldn't say, they weren't very forthcoming.

We've only been delayed once. First announcement was for 3 hours than when that deadline was upon us it was changed to 24 hours. They knew that “our” plane was delayed in Europe so why not just say 24 hours from the get-go. Another 4am wake up to get to the airport only to be told it was still delayed but was “in the air.” Is this the same as “it's in the mail?" Vouchers for a buffet brunch were handed out, covering there bases, feeding us breakfast and lunch. By the time we actually got into the air, 8 hours later, we had miss our connection to the island. No problem, vouchers for a hotel room and dinner were handed out. Hey bonus for me, I got to eat out twice and stay at a nice hotel on their dime. I love to fly.

Water In My Blood

I seem to gravitate towards water. It must be in my blood. It intrigues me to think that on some branch of the family tree there is distance ancestor who plied the decks of a profitable pirate vessel. I like the idea of a rogue or black sheep in the family, someone else who has taken a different path. My grandfather has traced our family tree back to the year 1747 complete with names and dates but I'd like to know what these people did. Someone, somewhere in all those generations had to be a seafaring man. Swashbuckling, halyard swinging, bedroom eyes kind of pirate sounds too Johnny Depp but finding out that great great great great great grandfather was actually a fish monger who had his own skiff just doesn't fulfil the fantasy.

It's like being asked what animal would you like to come back as, nobody says a slug or warthog so why can't I imagine a Blackbeard type of character.

Leaving the suburban life behind at the age of 6 we moved to a different country and a different life. That sentence leads you to believe that we moved to a 3^rd world or war torn country but really we just moved to Canada.

Returning to the small town where dad met mom and plans to continue being his own boss,  he had owned a gas station in Watertown, his options were to purchase the local zoo or a restaurant. If I had been given a vote I would have grown up surrounded by monkeys,elephants and ostriches. Circumstance dealt him the restaurant with 12 acres, house and a stream which run down one side of the entire property

Dad must have a bit of the H2O gene in him as well since one of the first things he did was to dam that little stream ( you could do things like that back in the 60's) and create a pond.

I perfected the shallow dive after surfacing time after time with my bathing suit bottom located around my knees full of mud. I learned to balance using a couple of boards nailed together to act as a raft. I become a daredevil when I rode one of the little boats over the dam during a sudden rainstorm.

I took swimming lessons for ever and become a life guard. The first house I bought had a stream running through the property, the second house was across the road from a lake. The first big contract for my catering business was with a yacht club. I've gone on 2 cruises, by myself. According to my date of entering this world, March 22, the astrological chart has deemed me with the sign of the Ram. Had I been born March 21, I would have been a Pisces, the fish. I obviously was a day late.

The night that dad introduced me to Mike “the sailor” my fate was sealed.