You Put Da Lime In the Coconut

Jim's Comment: This is the promised blog from my Aunt with whom we had an incredibly good time in November. Thanks, Sue!

The two weeks I spent in November 2007 aboard Eyes of the World in the company of the skippers, Jim and Rick, my dear sister-in-law Sam, and my husband Steve, are deeply etched in my consciousness.

How’s that for an intro?


I’d like to make this a pitch for anyone who has the chance to visit them – do it! In my many years of life (64, to be precise), I’ve very rarely experienced such a welcoming, attentive and considerate pair of hosts. It takes a lot to make me totally comfortable and able to let loose – it happened on Eyes for those wonderful fourteen days.


Images: the strong helping hands offered to the landlubber, boarding and alighting from various vessels; the excitement of casting off and setting sail for the next destination – with Jim and Rick totally in charge of our fate (my job was to secure the wine bottles and hold onto the dogs); the absolute freedom and exhilaration of sailing silently and peacefully over the bounding main ( I have a new appreciation for that term, by the way, but scopolamine patches took care of it); the cozy and comfortable accommodations with framed photographs of family so appropriately placed in our cabins, and even in the head; snorkeling with guys who have their knowledge and appreciation of the reefs and sea floor honed to perfection – and can dive 20’ down without a thought, to bring to the surface a wonderful critter we surface-snorkelers would never otherwise see; climbing a trail on Goat Island in Les Saintes with Chris and Margit, sweating all the way but marveling in the sights and the history; the market in Dominica and “Big Man” who found his match in Steve; the joy of spontaneous hugs and laughter (encouraged by mysterious rum drinks) and tropical rainstorms on the Indian River cruise; sleeping on the nets with Sam, with or without rain showers, [batten the hatches!], watching the passage of Orion and the incredible swath of the Milky Way; exploring Martinique on our own – our brave hosts driving, finding an abandoned carrot patch halfway up cloudy Mount Pelee, followed by a wonderful lunch in a restaurant by the sea; the history of the Caribbean! Oh my – “concise” the book was not, but for a totally left-brained person such as me, learning of the tragedies of these islands was essential. The monument of the shackled hands said it all. I could go on and on with the images – the photos don’t begin to tell the tale.

And there are a very few regrets:

(1) Despite our careful use of toilet paper (OK: two women, two weeks, only ½
roll!!!), we apparently left Eyes with a clogged holding tank. Steve witnessed
the amazing clearing of the same after Sam and I left, and loves telling the
story. Into the briny deep went our heroes, in the dark, checking valves,
disconnecting pipes, shoving hands into tanks…ok, maybe no more detail is
needed. They fixed it, of course – as they kept all of the complex systems on
Eyes going (see Rick’s previous blow-by-blow accounts on this blog).

(2) Wish I’d learned how to sail – oops, just remembered the instruction I received from the guys – how tightly I held onto the wheel and watched the compass and GPS – then came back up from a trip to the head to find autopilot doing a much more competent job than I had, thank you very much.

(3) Wish I’d conveyed more emphatically to Jim and Rick how much I enjoyed those 14 days.
Summary: the ease of daily life on Eyes with Jim & Rick. Let me repeat that: the EASE. So rare, so wonderful. Thank you, my dears. As our Governator says, “We’ll be back!”

Love, Sue (Jim’s aunt)(She married them)(and is very proud of that)


Comment from Jim: The "Coconut" song became a nightly even during which everyone sang and raised their hands in the air.

Happy Thanksgiving

Happy Thanksgiving to those of you who are US citizens.

As requested, let me take a moment to show you where we are. If you don't have Google Earth on your machine, you should certainly download and install it. It is great. The picture below is of the Caribbean. The sailboats "mark the spots" we've been over the past month; we're currently on the island of Martinique.

"Martinique?!?!" you say? "How did you get over 100 miles from your last blog entry?" Yes, we've been quite busy over the past few weeks, and there's a lot to tell. We've seen Guadeloupe, Dominica and Martinique AND we'll be leaving for St. Lucia in the next week. Additionally, we had our first visitors – my step mother, aunt and uncle.

I’ve started this blog several times, but just couldn’t seem to get the ball rolling. Those who know me might be able to see how my tendency toward perfectionism seems to fuel my tendency toward procrastination. With that said, I’m forging on in spite of all the details I may miss. Additionally, I’m going to ask our recent visitors to submit a blog entry to cover their time on Eyes of the World. I figure asking for that in a public forum really puts the pressure on.

As I was saying, we’re on the southern tip of Martinique in a little village called Le Marin. We've had family visiting for the past three weeks, so we decided to dock the boat at a marina so we can take advantage of unlimited electricity and water to prepare for our next round of visitors.

We had a fantastic Thanksgiving dinner with our very good friends Margit and Chris whom we met while in Guadeloupe. Margit is from Austria and Chris is from Australia. They were still very happy to help us celebrate. As they say, any excuse for a bottle of Champagne is a good excuse. For now, let’s step back to where we left off nearly two months ago. Just relax and think back…..

We arrived in Guadeloupe on September 8th. What's that you say? Why were you there for such a long time?! Well, there are a couple of reasons. We'd like to say the primary reason was to wait out hurricane season on an island with a good place to weather a storm. However, the French culture, wine, food, wine, language, wine... You get the picture.

Rick's prior blog Eyes of the World: Puff the Magic Dragon, Lived by the Sea... he told you a bit about what we've done since we were on Guadeloupe. Well, my job is to fill in some of the details, because there are many, as we've seen quite a lot while in this "Department" (read: state) and we absolutely love this group of islands.

We arrived in Deshaies after a very nice (and uneventful sail) from Antigua. Deshaies is on the island of Basse Terre. Guadeloupe is comprised of many islands with the two largest being Basse Terre and Grand Terre. They are what make people think Guadeloupe looks like a butterfly.

It was a Sunday when we arrived and as a result didn't have to worry about clearing into customs, so it was straight to town with two little dogs crossing their legs. Now, Rick and I have been to Paris quite a bit over the past 11 years and we (Rick) knows how to get by in the native tongue, French. In Paris, most of the people we’ve run across know how to speak English. And once we've done our due diligence by attempting to speak their language, they are more than happy to show-off their multi-language skills.

In Deshaies, this was not the case. And having not been in France for a few months - our (Rick's) French was rusty. We were successful in getting ourselves a bottle of wine and dinner, but it was not without its struggles and Rick was even successful in getting permission for the dogs to sit by our table while we ate.

Deshaies is a fishing village and it's beautiful. It is very small and has two main streets each running in one direction. You can walk from one end of the town to the other in about 10 minutes. Each evening, a million (ok, maybe 25) fishing boats go out to get the fish from the traps (again, see Rick's blog about the fish traps) and you can see their lights all night.

While in Deshaies, we rented a car and drove down to the capital city of Basse Terre. We had several agenda items for our trip. First, we wanted to hike in the rain forest. But we also wanted to investigate the marina there. Remember that we're still in hurricane season and so we have to be prepared in case we have to ride out a storm.

The hike to the rain forest was fantastic. We saw all kinds of lush forests and wildlife. We had the dogs with us, because we felt guilty about leaving them behind. We climbed about half way to the top of the volcano on the southern part of the island when we saw a sign indicating that dogs were not allowed. Additionally, there were indications that sulfur gas could cause breathing problems along with skin rashes. Needless to say, we elected to go back down the mountain to the safety of our French rental car.

We left Deshaies on the 13th bound for Pointe-a-Pitre. There are two ways to get there from where we were. One involved going north and then navigating the Riviére Salée which divides the two main islands. There are two draw bridges on this river and they open at 5:00am and 5:30am. I'm not kidding.

The other option was to go south around the southern coast of Basse Terre and then turning north to go back about the same distance north to Pointe-a-Pitre. If you can imagine, we chose that option. Getting Rick out of bed for a 5am departure would be quite a feat.

Upon leaving Deshaies, we chose to make the trip to Point-A-Pitre in three days. That would give us enough time to stop at Pigeon Island. This island is about half way down the west coast of Guadeloupe on the way to the capital of Basse Terre (yes, it's the same name as the island). At Pigeon Island there's the Cousteau National Park. You all know how much Rick and I like diving, so we had to stop there for a dive or two.

Anyway, I'll let Rick regale you with the story of how I dropped the boat hook while going up to a mooring ball. In case he doesn't, I'll give you the short story. In most of our sailing, all the mooring balls that we've happened upon have had a pennant (aka line) hanging off of them. This allows us to motor up on them and pick the up out of the water and hook them to the boat. We attach the pennant to the boat using a shackle and a bridle. The bridle is a line that runs from the bow of one hull to the other with a shackle in the middle. Bridles make the stay at anchor or mooring ball more stable.

Anyway, here we are motoring up on the mooring ball when I realize that there wasn't a pennant for me to grab. This means, I have to reach down about 5 feet and grab the mooring ball with one hand while using the other hand to attach the shackle to the ring on the top of the ball. I, like most of us, only have two hands which leaves me with no hands to hang onto the boat.

Our first attempt and second attempt resulted in much cursing on my part - and Rick having to swing the boat around for another try. He offered to switch places, which was a good idea considering he is much taller than I, but I wouldn't hear any of it. On our third attempt, I managed to grab the mooring ball with the boat hook and pull it up a few feet. I quickly grabbed the ball with the other hand and like a pro snapped the shackle closed on the mooring ball.

I turned around, very pleased with myself, to Rick smiling. He asked "where's the boat hook?" I looked on the nets which is the place I always leave it after such a feat. To my surprise, it wasn't there. I looked back to Rick and he pointed ahead of the boat. There it was about 10 feet from the bow floating in the water. I then had to retrieve the boat hook and admit I had/have a stubborn streak.

We had two great dives while at Pigeon Island. We bought a new underwater video camera that allows us to capture the "big fish" as it swims by. We took it on this dive with us - and lo and behold, we found an Octopus. I refer you to the blog entry: "Someone’s knocking at the door; somebody’s ringing the bell…" for the details on why this is important. But Rick passed the camera to me, and I kept shooting in Hollywood style for about 15 minutes while the two of them did the octopus two-step. When we got back to the boat and downloaded the video, where we realized the camera was off when Rick handed it to me. So nothing was captured... it's the old tale of the one that got away.

We spent the night at between Pointe Malendure and Pointe Du Mont Criquet. I'd give you a name, but for the life of me I can't find it on any charts. It's basically due east of Pigeon Island for those of you on Google Earth. It was a pleasant anchorage, but the beach was black sand which didn't go well with the dogs’ feet and our white fiberglass decks. But all was well in the end.

We set sail for Basse Terre the next day and as expected, the wind was on our "nose." That's sailor speak of having to motor directly into the wind, which us sailors always seem to end up doing more than we'd like. The motor down was fine, with the exception of the fish traps. Have I mention Rick's blog about fish traps? read it!

It was a smooth day, so we decided to let Coco have the helm for a bit. Call us crazy.

We arrived in the evening and after setting anchor, went out for a quick bite at one of the local Marina joints.

The next day we were off for Pointe-A-Pitre. You’d think since the prior day we’d motored south directly into the wind, that our trip up to Point-a-Pitre would be a pleasant sail. You’d think… However, Murphy has a set of laws that apply to sailing – and I believe the first one reads: “Where ever you want to sail, you can expect the wind to be on the nose.” And so it was for our trip to Point-a-Pitre.

About 6 hours after setting out from Basse Terre, we arrived at Marina Bas du Fort. At the time, we didn’t know that it would be our home for nearly two months. It is also where we met Margit and Chris Mills.

Rick met Chris while walking Coco and Cooper. Margit and Chris have a Jack Russell named Jackie. She has several nick names including “JD”, ”Jackie Dog” and one of my favorites “Munchie.”

Chris and Rick hit it off immediately. I think that happens when two extroverts run across each other. Especially in a country that doesn’t have many English speakers! By the end of the first meeting, we’d been invited over for coffee and home cooked bread.

Margit and Chris are on an aluminum boat called “Lucky Star.” You can read their blog at http://sailluckystar.blogspot.com/. They’ve been out for over 2 years and had an abundance of valuable knowledge and accounts to share.

We decided to stay put for the remainder of hurricane season largely because we had new found friends. Margit and Chris have brought so much to our lives. We share similar interests in wine, food and travel. Margit has brought several additional pounds around my waist with her fantastic cooking. Chris has brought us nearly every tool we’ve needed. But mostly they brought us company, friendship and fun.

So on this Thanksgiving, what am I thankful for? Well, I’m very thankful for all that I have in my life including Rick, family, my business and business partner, and the best friends. But I’m also thankful for Chris and Margit for helping make the past two months even more spectacular than I could have imagined. And thankful for their willingness to travel with us over the coming months and discover the wonders we have yet to find.

Oh, and I’m thankful that Sue, Sam and Steve are going to write an account of their time with us over the past three weeks. So everyone stay tuned for what they have to offer. Until then, stay well and be happy.

Puff the Magic Dragon, Lived by the Sea...

Jim's preface: We're in Guadeloupe now. We've been here for about a month. More later on how we got here and where we've been. But first, Rick has some thoughts to share.

Puff the Magic Dragon, Lived by the Sea...

After cruising south along the western coast of Guadeloupe, Jim and I turned our rudder to port (left to you land-lubbers) and headed north, up the eastern shore of Basse Terre, the largest of the Guadeloupian Islands. We were sailing to La Marina Bas du Fort in the cosmopolitan town of Pointe-a-Pitre.

Fishing is a major source of income for the locals and one of the ways they make their catch is with the use of a fish trap. They start with branches about 1-1 ¼ inch in diameter and form a box that measures 6x4x3 feet. They cover that with chicken wire and, at either end, form the wire into a cone extending one foot into the trap. Coconut is popular bait and a hunk is secured with a piece of string dangling inside kind of like the way we hang a neon sign flashing “Eat Here” outside a diner They attach a buoy to a line tied to the trap and toss the whole thing in the drink. The fish can easily swim through the wide end of the cone, down the tunnel and then through the small end but then, sadly, it’s fish sticks for dinner.

Normally, fisherman set their traps at a depth of 30-40 feet. The Guadeloupians being much more adventurous will set their traps in water up to 150 feet deep and…they set them everywhere. Some are marked with nice, store-bought yellow or orange buoys and some are marked with bright white empty Clorox jugs. However, and I guess this is for the stealth fishermen, some are marked with clear, empty 2 liter soda bottles (Mother Nature has long since removed the labels) and as if that isn’t hard enough to see, there are a few that are marked with black floats. The clear ones are a challenge, but the back ones sneak up on you like no-see-ums. The problem this causes for boaters is simple. Props suck up line like fish traps catch fish. Once you’re “caught” you’re done for. The lines also get stuck between the boat’s rudder and the hull and when that happens, steering the boat becomes impossible. Either way, someone has to get into the water with a good scuba knife and cut the tangled mess free. If you’re lucky, the line will not have pulled your prop off. If you’re not, then someone is going scuba diving.

To pick our way through the mine field of fish traps, I stood at the bow of the boat and directed Jim with hand signals. He successfully steered us, while under full sail and without the use of our engines, to the marina in Point-a-Pitre where we were sure our fish related problems would end. Not so.

When we were about 2 miles away, we called the marina on the VHF and were told they’d send a guy out in a dingy to guide us to our slip. We made it to the entrance to the channel leading to the docks, dropped the sails and waited. Then we motored through the channel to the marina entrance and waited some more. We called again (after making sure our VHF antennae was in place – remember Simpson Bay?) and waited for a response. Nothing. There was a guy on the dock waiving, and we being the friendly Americans we are, waived back. After 30 seconds or so, he waived again and again we waived back. After another 30 seconds he waived one more time and then the light went on. Just so you don’t think we’re dense, he was waving not beckoning. When you’re on a boat, people wave at you all the time. You wave back and smile. A lot of boaters will wave and wave and wave until you wave back. It’s a boating thing.

Jim was behind the helm and steered us up to the empty space on the dock. The space the dock guy was motioning for us to parallel park our 41 foot boat into looked to be about 40 feet long. Guadeloupe is a French island; but unlike Paris, most people here don’t speak any English. My French is passable for ordering dinner, saying hello and asking the simplest of questions provided I have time to rehearse them in my head before putting my American foot in my mouth. Even though we’ve been sailing for 10 years or so, pulling up to a dock is still a little nerve racking. A 16 thousand pound boat, even moving at modest 1 to 1.5 knots, still has a lot of momentum.

Jim turned to me and said, “Tell him I’m not pulling this boat into that space. Tell him to find us another slip. Tell him, TELL him, TELL HIM….” I tried to form the phase in my head but nothing was there. All the while, the dock guy was waiving our 41 foot boat into a 40 foot space that had a 46 foot catamaran behind it and a 30 foot speed boat in front of it. Docking a boat is not like parallel parking a car in DC, where Jim often says, “They call them bumpers for a reason you know.”
I jumped behind the helm, prayed for a gigantic shoe horn to materialize in the sky and gave it my best shot. As it turned out, with the dock guy and Jim's help, I managed to squeeze in with inches to spare on each end. Don’t ask me how and I don’t think I could do it again, but we were docked.

Two of the great things about being in a marina are electricity and water; both made by someone else. Eyes of the World is all set up to make her own electricity and purify salt water into the best drinking water, but both require turning on the generator, checking filters, monitoring gauges and generally paying attention to what you’re doing. When you’re in a marina, you can hook your boat up to both water and power, take as many hot showers as you want, run the AC all you want and never turn on your generator. With the greatest of anticipation (we’d been fending for ourselves for about a week) we grabbed our hose and our extension cord and made for the hook up station. I have to explain that the extension cord isn’t like the one every keeps at home but can never find when you need it. It’s a 40 foot long, 1 1/4 inch thick, 45 pound monstrosity that carries enough juice to light up the Vegas Strip. The hose is a hose in every respect which means no matter what you hook it to and no matter how new the washer is, it leaks a little from each end. Well, neither fit the Guadeloupian hook ups. Drat. We searched the boat for the correct adaptors, the dock guys searched their workroom for the correct adaptors but we all came up empty handed. Of course it was late Saturday night which meant all the Chandleries (boating hardware stores) were closed until Monday so getting the parts we needed wasn’t going to happen until Monday and even then, whether or not we could find them was questionable. The odd thing is our boat was built in France. Guadeloupe is a French island. You’d think that those two factors would make for a perfect match. You’d think.

When you’re at anchor or tied to a mooring ball, the aerodynamics of the boat cause it to naturally point into the wind. All of the hatches open in way that directs the wind into the boat, providing you with a wonderful cooling breeze. That doesn’t work when you’re on a dock. If you’re not pointing into the wind, then there is no great cooling breeze, just an occasional puff of warm air usually carrying with it, 150 mosquitoes. We were not happy sailors.

Generally, we turn on our generator when we need to charge our house batteries, run the compressor, the water maker or the washing machine. We limit that time to an hour and a half twice a day. In addition to the fuel tanks for the motors, Eyes of the World is fitted with two additional 25 gallon fuel tanks, both of which were at least three quarters full. We decided it would be ok to run the generator overnight so that we could use the AC…for the sake of the dogs. We started her up and turned on the air and were happy sailors once again. Sleeping conditions that night were great however, shortly after sunrise, the generator turned itself off.

Our Onan generator is equipped with several safety switches that automatically shut the system down before a malfunction can cause it any damage. When any system that uses sea water as a coolant shuts down, the first thing we do is check the water flow into the cooling system of the unit. I opened up the bilge, closed the through-hull valve (you only have to forget that step once) and unscrewed the top to the strainer. To my surprise, sometime during the night, our generator strainer had become home to two juvenile puffer fish. I lifted the mesh cylinder out of the strainer and deposited the two squatters into a bowl of sea water. Jim and I took a few pictures of the little cuties and then tossed them back into the sea. We put everything back together, opened up the through-hull valve (another step you only have to forget once – keep your eyes open for a blog about impellers) and turned the generator back on. Vroom, vroom, she worked like a charm.

Our boat was back in order, it was a bright, clear day, the AC was cranking away and things were looking up. I started breakfast while Jim headed down to the…hmm…shall we say…lounge? A little while later, I hear the familiar sound of the hand pump from the head (lounge for you land lubbers) being used, and used, and used. “Hey,” Jim called up from the bathroom. “Something’s the matter with the head.” That is Jim’s boat speak for “Rick, can you come down here and fix this?” As far as maintenance jobs go, fixing the head is pretty much at the bottom of the list. I called back, “I can’t come down right now, I’m making you breakfast.” Which is my boat speak for, “Are you out of your %$#^ mind?”

There were two things in Jim’s favor. The first was that the clogged line was the salt water intake line (I’ll give you a minute to think that benefit through). The second was that he hadn’t had his morning coffee yet (take another minute on that one as well). Jim took the pump apart, checked the gasket, checked the hoses, primed the line and tried again. Nothing. He then removed the hoses, check the toggle switch that controls the pump’s direction from intake to outlet and put everything back together again. Nothing. “Hey. I’m not that hungry right now,” he called. Translation…”please come help me!”

I went down to the head and basically did everything he did but in addition, removed all of the hoses leading to the head and blew air through them to make sure they were clear. Now I want you all to remember that these were hoses that took nice clean water from outside the boat and directed it toward the head. Even so, I had to psych myself up to bring them to my lips. We put everything back together and….nothing. There was one small 6” hose that connects the through-hull to another valve but because of its position, it’s a real pain to take off. It was the only thing we hadn’t check so I bit the bullet, loosened the four ring clamps and wrestled the hose from its confines. Because of where it was, it had a pretty dramatic curve in it that made it impossible to see directly through but there wasn’t any light reflecting on the inside of the tube so I knew it was clogged. I took it up to the deck, inhaled a big breath of air and blew on one end as hard as I could. Pop. Another puffer fish shot out of the tube like a dart from a blow gun. He sailed a good 15 feet, hit the water and swam away. Jeeze, these things are worse than the mosquitoes. We put everything back together and Ta-Da!, the head was working again.

You’d think our puffer fish problems would be over. Think again. The generator shut off the next morning at sunrise. This time, I knew exactly what to do. I opened the strainer to the generator, lifted out the mesh cylinder, walked upstairs to the deck and dumped a single puffer fish (not nearly so cute as the first two) back into the water, this time, foregoing transporting him in a nice bowl full of salt water. I started to reassemble the strainer...hmm. Yesterday we had two in the strainer and one in a hose, so before I put the strainer back together, I slowly opened the through-hull and allowed water to flow through the tubes, into the strainer casing and then into the bilge. HA, there was another puffer fish in the tubes! I’m so smart! As I was congratulating myself on my ingenuity, I glanced at the mesh cylinder still in my hand. Drat. How am I going to get that puffer fish out of the strainer? The strainer looks like a jar with a narrowed opening at the top that’s just a bit larger than the mesh cylinder. Water comes into the top and is strained through the mesh before it goes into the heat exchanger for the generator. The strainer is made of clear acrylic so I could see the fish swimming around inside. I ran up to the galley and grabbed two wooden spoons thinking that I could gently sandwich the little guy between the spoons and lift him out to safety.

The wooden spoons were about ten inches long and the strainer was about nine inches deep so the math all seemed to be working in my favor; I had one inch of usable handle and was certain I could make this work. Have you ever been to a carnival and watched the “Carney” use that ring attached by a string to a pole take a Coke bottle lying on its side and sit it upright? Seems pretty easy. Oh if life were that simple. As soon as I put a spoon into the water, the puffer fish darted to the bottom of the strainer. I needed at least two inches of handle to dexterously maneuver both spoons at the same time. I could use one spoon to scoop him to the top but then only had a split second to slide the second spoon into place. He had the same amount of time to dart back to his perceived safe zone. Keep in mind that in the wild, what fish do most of the day is eat and dart away from larger fish. Puffy had a lot more practice at this than I did. After a good 30 attempts and as many thoughts about just getting the big fork we use for grilling, I finally got the little sucker. Well, I don’t know if you’ve put two and two together, but the name of the fish is a….wait for it…here is comes…PUFFER fish, and that is exactly what that little shit did. He puffed himself up to the size of a tennis ball. Oh that grilling fork was looking better and better.

I finally managed to use one wooden spoon and a set of tongs to free the little guy and release him, I’m sure, back into someone else’s strainer. We got our generator running and Jim has since barricaded all of our intake holes with chicken wire so we don’t have any more run ins with “Puff the swimming dragon, lived in the sea, clogging up our intake valves so we couldn't peeeee…”