Fisherman in San Diego casts for and hooks a drone, but it gets away.
Nice cast, though!!
Saturday, August 8, 2015
Friday, August 7, 2015
Thursday, August 6, 2015
Odd Shots
Istaboa's very prominent bow.
At night, the glow from the large yachts underwater lights conveys just how clean and clear the water at Compass is. There's probably 15 feet of under our bow.
At night, the glow from the large yachts underwater lights conveys just how clean and clear the water at Compass is. There's probably 15 feet of under our bow.
With flash.
Wednesday, August 5, 2015
Tuesday, August 4, 2015
Barbacoa?
No! The Famous Swimming Pigs of Big Majors
Probably the most photographed and celebrated pigs on the planet.
Friday, July 31, 2015
Odd Shots
Pictures from The Exumas
From one of the many private islands we've been fortunate enough to visit.
We always find odd things on these little Cays and this one proved to be quite interesting.
Such as:
A Hedgehog! Have you ever met a Hedgehog? Kinda like a Porcupine without the attitude.
They're nocturnal creatures and this one was shy, didn't roll out to be sociable.
This was a quite a day.
This was a quite a day.
Thursday, July 30, 2015
Every Picture >
> tells a story, don't it. ("Every Picture Tells a Story" (Rod Stewart, Ronnie Wood)
The first time Radar met Orange Cat was a big dust up. Radar lost that bout and walked with a limp for a few days. I think my boy hurt himself by running backwards too fast. Compass can be a mean little kitty.
We're back in Jupiter now, doing a few boat projects and house chores. Going through the hundreds of photos taken means new ones will be discovered so more will be posted.
There are some beautiful shots and some wonderful memories to share.
Cheers,
IStaboa
Orange Cat aka Compass Kitty
A feral-ish cat that somehow survives on Compass Cay; he sometimes shows up around the marina looking for a meal. The boat ladies at Compass try to take care of him, but he's an independent cat and he'll usually take the food then disappear.The first time Radar met Orange Cat was a big dust up. Radar lost that bout and walked with a limp for a few days. I think my boy hurt himself by running backwards too fast. Compass can be a mean little kitty.
Over Yonder Cay
As you leave Compass, heading south down Pipe Creek, you'll see the Wind Generators first.
The owner of this island is serious about making this an eco-friendly, self sustaining paradise. The field of solar panels (hidden away) and the wind generators provide enough power to run the island.
Yes, you can rent this island, (no, we can't), many celebrities do.
The sailboat in the foreground is part of the package... of course.
The sailboat in the foreground is part of the package... of course.
We're back in Jupiter now, doing a few boat projects and house chores. Going through the hundreds of photos taken means new ones will be discovered so more will be posted.
There are some beautiful shots and some wonderful memories to share.
Cheers,
IStaboa
Monday, July 27, 2015
Coming Home's Not easy
Oh I know I've come home for a reason
But that reason escapes me now
The lines, from an old Sting tune, bounced around in the space between my ears as we pounded our way through the last 20 miles of this day's 130 mile run.
6 to 8 to 10' snarling, slamming seas. Headwinds winds that were constantly 40+ mph with gusts to 55; truly the worst continuous seas Crew Istaboa has dealt in our 15 years and 30,000+ miles of offshore cruising. (Yes, we're proud pleasure boaters)
I kinda remember something I read a long time ago... 'When you go to sea in small boats, never fret over finding heavy weather; eventually, it will find you.'
It did, but this is not the story of a harrowing escape from a deadly storm, it's about perceived danger, the anticipation of a worsening situation , and, simply put, me thinking too damn much.
Fortunately, Istaboa carried us through this rough stretch with steady grace. She's a damn fine boat and she proved herself yet again.
Thinkin' too much?:
I had started worrying about the late afternoon thunderstorms a few days before leaving Great Harbour. In the back of my mind were thoughts of hitting the cut that leads into Palm Beach with a big blow and lots of lightning at sunset; this situation would force us to plow through a storm or wait and enter in darkness. (Yes, my worries were well-founded) Both of those options weren't good. My optimistic side calculated 50/50 odds of that happening so I decided to be positive and put it all out of mind... sort of.
Of course, when the time came, we landed on the wrong side of that 50/50 chance. Should've gone with 'glass half empty' because what I had worried about happened exactly as feared.
If you look at our track you'll see where the storm first hit. Our Spot Satellite Transponder couldn't see through the storm and could no longer track as we closed in on Palm Beach.
But, at this point Mel and I were quite comfortable in the pilot house taking it all in as if sitting in a theater watching an action movie.
Big water washing up and over the Portuguese Bridge and sometimes smashing face first into the pilothouse windows. We can now accurately describe green water.
The boys weren't happy, but we were fine. All systems were working as they should; We both commented on how well Istaboa was handling this weather.
Then I start thinking too much again...
Looking out the pilothouse seeing the storm's black skies, streaked with lightning, positioned just to the south of our destination —the loud rumble of thunder— I was staring at the intense cell on the radar display and realizing the squall was moving north. Calculating our speed and the storm's movement, it became evident we'd collide at the precise moment we'd be entering the inlet.
A voice in my head was saying, "If you're struck by lightning, you'll be dead in the water.", and a visual was rolling before my mind's eye of us helplessly washing up on the rip-rap of Lake Worth Inlet.
For the first time that day, I pulled the throttle back and slowed down.
Internally, my mind was racing and jumping to many conflicting conclusions. (one of which was, 'don't get excited.')
Then Mel suggested hailing TowBoatUS on the radio to ask about weather at the inlet. When I did, the friendly voice of a TowBoatUS Captain immediately answered and with calm demeanor told us something like, "Yeah, Wow, I bet you're in the rough stuff, it's been blowing hard. If you're okay, just keep on coming. It's all better in the inlet. Settles right down; the storm is moving north"
"Oh! Really? Thanks... — Istaboa back to 16".
There was momentary silence in the pilothouse.
My anxiety ended as quickly as it began and the anticipation fueled stress eased like the winds and seas at Lake Worth Inlet... and all was right with the world.
Calm, once we eased through the inlet and rounded Peanut Island. Rain, washed the salty sea from our decks. Ease, as we motored into Old Port Cove Marina and tied up at the fuel dock with just a moment of twilight left.
Success = Relax
In hindsight, it was a great day to do this long run. If we were waiting for a better day, we'd still be at Great Harbour. (which would've been okay with us) 90% of our weather was damn near perfect.
And, the good that came from all this? We're now confident our stabilizers and autopilot will perform well in really harsh conditions. We'd had issues with both systems in the Chesapeake and repaired them, but never had the opportunity or the inclination to sea trial in such seas.
Istaboa was steady as a rock.
And, as written at the beginning of this post, Sometimes coming home's not easy, but we're home.
Adios,
Istaboa
But that reason escapes me now
The lines, from an old Sting tune, bounced around in the space between my ears as we pounded our way through the last 20 miles of this day's 130 mile run.
6 to 8 to 10' snarling, slamming seas. Headwinds winds that were constantly 40+ mph with gusts to 55; truly the worst continuous seas Crew Istaboa has dealt in our 15 years and 30,000+ miles of offshore cruising. (Yes, we're proud pleasure boaters)
I kinda remember something I read a long time ago... 'When you go to sea in small boats, never fret over finding heavy weather; eventually, it will find you.'
It did, but this is not the story of a harrowing escape from a deadly storm, it's about perceived danger, the anticipation of a worsening situation , and, simply put, me thinking too damn much.
Fortunately, Istaboa carried us through this rough stretch with steady grace. She's a damn fine boat and she proved herself yet again.
Thinkin' too much?:
I had started worrying about the late afternoon thunderstorms a few days before leaving Great Harbour. In the back of my mind were thoughts of hitting the cut that leads into Palm Beach with a big blow and lots of lightning at sunset; this situation would force us to plow through a storm or wait and enter in darkness. (Yes, my worries were well-founded) Both of those options weren't good. My optimistic side calculated 50/50 odds of that happening so I decided to be positive and put it all out of mind... sort of.
Of course, when the time came, we landed on the wrong side of that 50/50 chance. Should've gone with 'glass half empty' because what I had worried about happened exactly as feared.
If you look at our track you'll see where the storm first hit. Our Spot Satellite Transponder couldn't see through the storm and could no longer track as we closed in on Palm Beach.
Big water washing up and over the Portuguese Bridge and sometimes smashing face first into the pilothouse windows. We can now accurately describe green water.
The boys weren't happy, but we were fine. All systems were working as they should; We both commented on how well Istaboa was handling this weather.
Then I start thinking too much again...
Looking out the pilothouse seeing the storm's black skies, streaked with lightning, positioned just to the south of our destination —the loud rumble of thunder— I was staring at the intense cell on the radar display and realizing the squall was moving north. Calculating our speed and the storm's movement, it became evident we'd collide at the precise moment we'd be entering the inlet.
A voice in my head was saying, "If you're struck by lightning, you'll be dead in the water.", and a visual was rolling before my mind's eye of us helplessly washing up on the rip-rap of Lake Worth Inlet.
For the first time that day, I pulled the throttle back and slowed down.
Internally, my mind was racing and jumping to many conflicting conclusions. (one of which was, 'don't get excited.')
Then Mel suggested hailing TowBoatUS on the radio to ask about weather at the inlet. When I did, the friendly voice of a TowBoatUS Captain immediately answered and with calm demeanor told us something like, "Yeah, Wow, I bet you're in the rough stuff, it's been blowing hard. If you're okay, just keep on coming. It's all better in the inlet. Settles right down; the storm is moving north"
"Oh! Really? Thanks... — Istaboa back to 16".
There was momentary silence in the pilothouse.
My anxiety ended as quickly as it began and the anticipation fueled stress eased like the winds and seas at Lake Worth Inlet... and all was right with the world.
Calm, once we eased through the inlet and rounded Peanut Island. Rain, washed the salty sea from our decks. Ease, as we motored into Old Port Cove Marina and tied up at the fuel dock with just a moment of twilight left.
Success = Relax
In hindsight, it was a great day to do this long run. If we were waiting for a better day, we'd still be at Great Harbour. (which would've been okay with us) 90% of our weather was damn near perfect.
And, the good that came from all this? We're now confident our stabilizers and autopilot will perform well in really harsh conditions. We'd had issues with both systems in the Chesapeake and repaired them, but never had the opportunity or the inclination to sea trial in such seas.
Istaboa was steady as a rock.
And, as written at the beginning of this post, Sometimes coming home's not easy, but we're home.
Adios,
Istaboa
Wednesday, July 22, 2015
Our Last Day In The Bahamas, Ends At Carriearl
On this morning, Mel had set her sights on going to Carriearl Restaurant for lunch.
So, guess what? We went to Carriearl for lunch.
We'd never been and had planned on doing brunch there Sunday, but circumstances have a tendency to change and they did. So... lunch instead.
Marty, one of the proprietors, drove to the marina and, as he put it in his British way, collected us. A nice fellow; he and his wife Angie are the owner/operators of Carriearl.
While cruising around the Bahamas we'd heard good things about this little boutique hotel/restaurant at Great Harbour and the reports rang true. Lunch was excellent. Not the Bahamian fare we've come to expect, I had Welsh Rarebit with crispy prosciutto over toasted fresh baked bread. Mel enjoyed a Caesar Salad dotted with very small Crab Cakes. All was prepared nicely and served to us in this very interesting sun room. (Enlarge the photo)
Yet another nice surprise we've discovered and enjoyed while at Great Harbour Cay.
Marty and Angie have decorated the place as a well traveled couple would. The walls have many interesting little oddities, memorabilia, and art pieces that have been tastefully placed and hung nicely.
The blue tiled pool with a contrasting white mosaic Rooster at the bottom overlooks the beach and ocean. All in all, it's an eclectic/bohemian little island hideaway kinda place that's a must visit often for us when we return.
Marty and Angie are also a very pleasant couple; we enjoyed spending time with them.
Yeah, yeah... Mel was right, again.
But —
It appears our sensible side, oddly enough, has beat out our whimsical nature.
Our new plan is to do a 130 mile run back to Lake Worth Inlet and home. 13 hours unless the Gulf Stream gives us a lift and we make up some speed. Dark to almost dark. The weather's predicted to be nice. We'll see.
We've enjoyed Great Harbour Cay again, it's now on our list of places that we will return to every time we're in the Bahamas. Hopefully a longer stay next time.
So that's it for this year's cruise through the Bahamas and so far, it's been a great trip.
Sad? No. — There's no place like home.
Adios,
Istaboa
So, guess what? We went to Carriearl for lunch.
We'd never been and had planned on doing brunch there Sunday, but circumstances have a tendency to change and they did. So... lunch instead.
Marty, one of the proprietors, drove to the marina and, as he put it in his British way, collected us. A nice fellow; he and his wife Angie are the owner/operators of Carriearl.
While cruising around the Bahamas we'd heard good things about this little boutique hotel/restaurant at Great Harbour and the reports rang true. Lunch was excellent. Not the Bahamian fare we've come to expect, I had Welsh Rarebit with crispy prosciutto over toasted fresh baked bread. Mel enjoyed a Caesar Salad dotted with very small Crab Cakes. All was prepared nicely and served to us in this very interesting sun room. (Enlarge the photo)
Yet another nice surprise we've discovered and enjoyed while at Great Harbour Cay.
Marty and Angie have decorated the place as a well traveled couple would. The walls have many interesting little oddities, memorabilia, and art pieces that have been tastefully placed and hung nicely.
The blue tiled pool with a contrasting white mosaic Rooster at the bottom overlooks the beach and ocean. All in all, it's an eclectic/bohemian little island hideaway kinda place that's a must visit often for us when we return.
Marty and Angie are also a very pleasant couple; we enjoyed spending time with them.
Yeah, yeah... Mel was right, again.
But —
It appears our sensible side, oddly enough, has beat out our whimsical nature.
Our new plan is to do a 130 mile run back to Lake Worth Inlet and home. 13 hours unless the Gulf Stream gives us a lift and we make up some speed. Dark to almost dark. The weather's predicted to be nice. We'll see.
We've enjoyed Great Harbour Cay again, it's now on our list of places that we will return to every time we're in the Bahamas. Hopefully a longer stay next time.
So that's it for this year's cruise through the Bahamas and so far, it's been a great trip.
Sad? No. — There's no place like home.
Adios,
Istaboa
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