Homeward Bound
After ten days enjoying Barefoot Cay, we depart Tuesday morning, 5/17/05 from Roatan, Honduras excited that we are in the home stretch of what has been somewhere in the neighborhood of a 6000 mile cruise. A brief stop in Isla Mujeres, Mexico, then it's on to Key West, Florida, US of A!!!! I repeat, the US of A!!! The mothership, my homeland, purple mountains majesty, I pledge allegiance to the flag and all that jazz!! Woohoo...we're almost home.
As much as we have enjoyed our experiences in other countries, there is something to be said about returning back to the land of the free and the home of the brave. What can I say, I'm proud and lucky to be an American! I am excited about arriving back on US soil, embracing the belief and the arrogance that we really do live in the greatest country in the world and I'm just damn glad to be here. That and the fact that I will no longer have to scour all over town for a decent head of lettuce and a crusty baguette can be had for under a buck. Never underestimate the importance of access to good produce and decent bread.
The weather looks good and we are expecting seas of less than three feet (yeah, sure we are). As usual, my buddies, the weather guys, are wrong. What a surprise. We make it out of Honduran waters without too much hassle and begin the two day trek to Mexico where we plan on staying over just long enough to refuel and grab some sleep before taking on the final three day trip to Florida. We continue to keep an eye on the weather and learn that Tropical Storm Adrian is growing in the Pacific, off the coast of El Salvador and is projected to cross over the mainland and pretty much hit us dead on as we arrive in Mujeres. Being stuck in Mujeres sounds less than appealing, particularly since if the weather hits, we'll be stuck several days longer than anticipated. It doesn't take too much discussion along with a bit of fuel consumption number crunching (do we have enough to make it there??), to agree that we'll keep chugging along and stay ahead of the storm. We're about 24 hours ahead of the weather and as long as Adrian doesn't gain more speed than us, we should be able to avoid any encounters out here in the big open blue. Unfortunately, this means we're gonna need to pull a five day trek between the two of us. The theme to Gilligan's Island starts playing in my head, "a three hour tour, a three hour tour."
The seas are NOT less than three feet and are closer to six with winds over 25kts and oh, here's the best part, we're taking them straight in the snout. Headseas are burying the bow and the hobby horse ride begins. I swear it's like riding one of those mechanical bulls, except without the benefit of too much alcohol to numb your ass and make you more pliable while you're being flung around like a ragdoll. Have I mentioned before how much I hate headseas? Our speed, once peaking at over 7.5kts has dropped to under 3kts. Not only are we getting nowhere fast, but we're burning more fuel than originally estimated and the latest weather reports show Tropical Storm Adrian has now been upgraded to a hurricane with the projected coverage range growing. Fred and his trusty calculator determine we've got enough fuel reserves for the trip, unless of course, "we get caught in the storm and end up in the middle of nowhere for days on end". Thanks, your confidence is reassuring. I feel perfectly safe now that you've cleared that up. We turn the corner at Isla Mujeres and based on the weather reports, we continue with the commitment to no stopping, no passing GO, on to Key West.
Another 24 hours pass and the weather reports are now showing Adrian is being downgraded on this side of the mainland. Coverage pattern shrinking and not going to be anywhere near Isla Mujeres. Well, of course it isn't. I mean why the hell would it? We've already missed our opportunity to get off this circus ride and we're stuck for another two days. Great...that's just great.
The Barbie fridge looks like Mother Hubbard's cupboards, now near empty after three days, as it wasn't prepped for an extended trip. Being the good galley wench (if I was really good I would of had extra, right???) I attempt to cook something that would pass for a meal. Good food is by any other description love, right? And the crew could use a little love right now. After burning the shit out of my hand in an attempt to keep a pan from sliding off the stove and slicing a huge hunk of skin off the end of my index finger with a peeler (don't even ask), I concede to a "no cooking" rule for the duration of the trip. We survive on ramen noodle cups, Pringles and leftover tortillas. What used to be considered items for special junk food only days have now become staples. Bon Appetit!
It's 4:00 AM, Saturday morning and we're fifty miles outside of Key West. Eight more hours, damn. I still can't get used to the fact that it takes us all day to go a distance that I could of traveled in 30 minutes in my car. I think about Adam's suggestion that when we have the boat hauled out we drop in a few more hundred more horsepower. Sounds like a solid idea to me. I'm so tired that my eyelids feel like concrete slabs and I seriously consider duck taping them open. Neither of us have been able to get much sleep over the last 72 hours. Again, it's not so much the movement of the boat that keeps the Sand Man at bay but rather the noise from the guy with the very large hammer banging against the outside of the hull. I've learned that I can live with levitating off the bed with the flow of the waves, but the crashing of the waves against the hull, that's what keeps me from sleeping. It's like having your head in between two cymbals that are timed with your departure into a sleeping abyss. Just when you think you're almost there...CRASH!!!
I figure I better pull myself together as you know what they say about most accidents happening within 10 miles of home. Not going to have come this far to do something stupid like fall asleep on the job, crash into another boat or a reef or God knows what and sink within sight of land. No way! I head to the bare cupboards searching for something to kick start my morning and discover one last tea bag of my favorite tea at the bottom of the bin. Remember when we started this trip in Ensenada and I got what I believed to be a message from beyond? Well, same tea and down to the last bag. How appropriate is that? Symmetry in the cosmos is the only explanation I can come up with for this remarkable find.
Waiting for my water to boil (this is exciting stuff, eh?), I contemplate the last nine months. Had it really been worth it? Did we really need to prove we could do this? All of this? I mean, why the hell didn't we just find a boat in Florida and head off from there? Why did we have to come all this way? Six thousand frickin' miles!!! Fred would tell you that it was "excellent training" for us. Yeah, well, training day is over babe. I'm done with traveling for days, weeks and months on end. I don't feel the least bit fulfilled. God damn I want off this boat and I want off it NOW! I'm tired, cranky and currently a bit hungry. This is never a good combination for me. I suppose, realistically, I have done some things I never thought I'd be able to do. Of course, most of it was stuff I never really had any desire to do in the first place so just not sure how accomplished I actually feel. New talents to list on my resume of life are things like reading a radar screen and chart plotter both of which pretty much rank up there with learning algebra for me and it's possible role in my future, launching and retrieving a dingy while trying to keep the dogs either in or out or under it, coloring my own hair (Tami, I miss you), learning that leftovers really ARE a good thing and even if they're not, they may be your last chance for something relatively decent other than Pringles until you hit your next port and last but not least, showering and trying to shave my legs in an area no bigger than a postage stamp all the while conserving the water supply and coming out feeling "refreshed".
Come on tea bag...tell me it's all going to be alright. Give me something like "your life will be lived in peace, harmony and a non moving structure". I rip open the bag and read with the anticipation of a devote Psychic Hotline listener, "Only those who will risk going too far can possibly find out how far one can go", T. S. Elliot. Fuck! Do you know what that means??? Well do you??? It means we've got to keep going! Florida is just a stop over on this little cruise we're calling Life. There'll be no walls to faux paint, no address to receive overdue bills at, no reliable hairdresser for God's sake! I am sooooooo screwed.
As before, far be it from me, to argue with the wisdom of The Bag. I feel like I've joined up with Kirk & crew to "explore strange new worlds, seek out new life and new civilizations, to boldly go where no man has gone before", Fred will be so thrilled. Maybe I won't tell him. Hell, he's not even up, he'll never know. We don't have to tell each other everything for God's sake. Besides, he doesn't believe in or even understand the prophetic power of The Bag. I'll tell you one thing, I am NOT restocking these damn tea bags when we get back. Since I don't have the guts to tempt Fate, I'm better off not asking it's advice.
Resigned to the knowledge that my future has been set forth and put in motion, I sit back, sipping my Doomsday tea and watch the sun rise one more time over the open ocean. It wasn't the most beautiful sunrise with regard to color or spectrum of light, just another day dawning. Somehow though, knowing that right below that bright orange ball was home and that we had made the journey, finishing one adventure while beginning another, made it simply spectacular to me.
Until that very moment, I hadn't realized what a page turner this whole thing had actually been. If only for a moment, all my anxieties, all my fears and all my bitching about whatever it is I thought was wrong with this lifestyle change was gone. Too bad Fred missed it, but hey, you snooze, you lose. Serenity (or extreme exhaustion) settles upon me and I decide that such a momentous occasion should be hailed in with some realm of musical fanfare. No trumpets or horns, no Hail to the Chief or God Save the Queen or Here Comes the Bride. It only takes a moment to pick the tune to soundtrack this snapshot. I stare out, beams of sunlight glistening on the waves, salt spray and wind blowing across my face, tea cup in hand, only Zeus and I sharing the moment, I knew there was only one thing left to do... dance!
We arrive in Key West 5/21/05
