Dispatch from the N.A.P.

It seems after pounding through harsh conditions, paying their dues for the first day or two, old Neptune has given that bold fleet of Nordhavns a bit of a break. Messages and blog posts indicate things have settled into a nice cruise for the North Atlantic Passage crews.

This morning's position points to an arrival sometime tonight.

Tivoli sends out real-time blog posts from aboard so I'm sure we'll receive a report later.

Meanwhile back at the ranch...

We're just wrapping up preparations on Istaboa and waiting for a nice 3 day weather window to give us pleasurable sea conditions to cross to the Exumas.  Typical late May weather patterns have prevailed. Puffy Southeast winds creating nasty head seas would make for  a miserable ride to the islands. So we're taking our time and going through all the systems needed for an extended stay.

Credit, where credit's due:
Shout out to James Knight for mending our davit; I don't think anyone else could, or would, have done it. He diagnosed and replaced a bad capacitor on the main controller circuit board. Not many do such things anymore. Certainly not cheap, but he did it on a Sunday, so worth the bill rate.

Today is Watermaker test.

Congratulations and Cheers to the NAP Crews as they're about to land in Bermuda and complete leg one.

Adios,

Compass Cay

Is really looking beautiful right now. We're still hangin' in Memphis. The weather's been crazy, 12º  one day, 70º the next. We're about to head south and we're thinking blue.
Check it out!!
copped from Instagram:

When @tifftan6 is not feeding herself or our cats 😺😺, she's feeding sharks 😂🦈🦈🌊🐒 FULL VIDEO in bio, enjoy! #stanielcay #compasscay #dji #scyc

A video posted by Ron Quan (@ronquan) on Jan 14, 2017 at 5:32pm PST

No, nothing about boats

 Bob Dylan's Nobel Prize acceptance speech — The fact that he wrote it, but was a no-show for the ceremony is, well... so Dylan. Not surprising though.

 Good evening, everyone. I extend my warmest greetings to the members of the Swedish Academy and to all of the other distinguished guests in attendance tonight.
I'm sorry I can't be with you in person, but please know that I am most definitely with you in spirit and honored to be receiving such a prestigious prize. Being awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature is something I never could have imagined or seen coming. From an early age, I've been familiar with and reading and absorbing the works of those who were deemed worthy of such a distinction: Kipling, Shaw, Thomas Mann, Pearl Buck, Albert Camus, Hemingway. These giants of literature whose works are taught in the schoolroom, housed in libraries around the world and spoken of in reverent tones have always made a deep impression. That I now join the names on such a list is truly beyond words.
I don't know if these men and women ever thought of the Nobel honor for themselves, but I suppose that anyone writing a book, or a poem, or a play anywhere in the world might harbor that secret dream deep down inside. It's probably buried so deep that they don't even know it's there.
If someone had ever told me that I had the slightest chance of winning the Nobel Prize, I would have to think that I'd have about the same odds as standing on the moon. In fact, during the year I was born and for a few years after, there wasn't anyone in the world who was considered good enough to win this Nobel Prize. So, I recognize that I am in very rare company, to say the least.
I was out on the road when I received this surprising news, and it took me more than a few minutes to properly process it. I began to think about William Shakespeare, the great literary figure. I would reckon he thought of himself as a dramatist. The thought that he was writing literature couldn't have entered his head. His words were written for the stage. Meant to be spoken not read. When he was writing Hamlet, I'm sure he was thinking about a lot of different things: "Who're the right actors for these roles?" "How should this be staged?" "Do I really want to set this in Denmark?" His creative vision and ambitions were no doubt at the forefront of his mind, but there were also more mundane matters to consider and deal with. "Is the financing in place?" "Are there enough good seats for my patrons?" "Where am I going to get a human skull?" I would bet that the farthest thing from Shakespeare's mind was the question "Is this literature?"
When I started writing songs as a teenager, and even as I started to achieve some renown for my abilities, my aspirations for these songs only went so far. I thought they could be heard in coffee houses or bars, maybe later in places like Carnegie Hall, the London Palladium. If I was really dreaming big, maybe I could imagine getting to make a record and then hearing my songs on the radio. That was really the big prize in my mind. Making records and hearing your songs on the radio meant that you were reaching a big audience and that you might get to keep doing what you had set out to do.
Well, I've been doing what I set out to do for a long time, now. I've made dozens of records and played thousands of concerts all around the world. But it's my songs that are at the vital center of almost everything I do. They seemed to have found a place in the lives of many people throughout many different cultures and I'm grateful for that.
But there's one thing I must say. As a performer I've played for 50,000 people and I've played for 50 people and I can tell you that it is harder to play for 50 people. 50,000 people have a singular persona, not so with 50. Each person has an individual, separate identity, a world unto themselves. They can perceive things more clearly. Your honesty and how it relates to the depth of your talent is tried. The fact that the Nobel committee is so small is not lost on me.
But, like Shakespeare, I too am often occupied with the pursuit of my creative endeavors and dealing with all aspects of life's mundane matters. "Who are the best musicians for these songs?" "Am I recording in the right studio?" "Is this song in the right key?" Some things never change, even in 400 years.
Not once have I ever had the time to ask myself, "Are my songs literature?"
So, I do thank the Swedish Academy, both for taking the time to consider that very question, and, ultimately, for providing such a wonderful answer.

My best wishes to you all,

Bob Dylan

And I was standin' on the side of the road
Rain fallin' on my shoes
Heading out for the east coast
Lord knows I've paid some dues
Gettin' through
Tangled up in blue

Ah get born, keep warm
Short pants, romance, learn to dance
Get dressed, get blessed
Try to be a success
Please her, please him, buy gifts
Don't steal, don't lift
Twenty years of schoolin'
And they put you on the day shift
Look out kid
They keep it all hid
Better jump down a manhole
Light yourself a candle
Don't wear sandals
Try to avoid the scandals
Don't want to be a bum
You better chew gum
The pump don't work
'Cause the vandals took the handles

I was riding on the Mayflower
When I thought I spied some land
I yelled for Captain Arab
I have yuh understand
Who came running to the deck
Said, "Boys, forget the whale
Look on over yonder
Cut the engines
Change the sail
Haul on the bowline"
We sang that melody
Like all tough sailors do
When they are far away at sea.

You used to ride on a chrome horse with your diplomat
Who carried on his shoulder a Siamese cat
Ain't it hard when you discovered that
He really wasn't where it's at
After he took from you everything he could steal

She takes just like a woman, yes, she does
She makes love just like a woman, yes, she does
And she aches just like a woman
But she breaks just like a little girl

Yes, and how many years can a mountain exist
Before it's washed to the sea?
Yes, and how many years can some people exist
Before they're allowed to be free?
Yes, and how many times can a man turn his head
And pretend that he just doesn't see?
The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind
The answer is blowin' in the wind

Solitude in Paradise

At Compass Cay.

The onSpot guys are just back from making the necessary repairs in the Exumas and sent me this shot of Compass Cay.

Hurricane Matthew blew right over the little island, but thankfully there was little damage. Tucker reported; Lily's doors were blown in and the Tree House lost a few screens, but all in all, they came through the storm okay.

With the Batshit Crazy politics wreaking havoc on our peaceful reality in Jupiter, we can't think of a better place to be right now. It's time to crank up Istaboa and escape.

I've never seen Compass like this. Of course season is upon us; calm before the storm.

While Matthew Was Marching Toward Us

Istaboa was in a shed being painted.

This morning, I sneaked into the paint building and got a glimpse of her. The experts at Hinckley were only able to do 3 coats of paint before the storm shut everything down. All the tenting and masking is still on, but despite that, it's easy to see she's going to be shiny and beautiful when they're done.

Pearl Gray is the chosen color. A shade lighter than her original color but not too far off.

Matthew Update

I think we're okay... at the house anyway.

 Canary Cam shot of the front yard. A little ragged, but we've obviously got power

Optimism and cynicism seems to have won out.
We're hoping the folks up north will be as lucky as we've been.

Now to check on the boat.

Cheers!!

Sometimes Your Luck Runs Out

So to hedge our bet, this crew is going to spend a few days on the West Coast of Florida on a business trip.

Sarasota has always been one of our favorite places.

Luckily, (we hope)  Istaboa is high and dry, on the hard, at Hinckley Yachts in Port Salerno. She's inside a building, being painted as well as a sundry of other items being done to her.
We feel fortunate as we see the many boats at Old Port Cove scurrying around in order to find shelter. North Palm Beach Marina is full as I'm sure every other official Hurricane Hole in the area is.

This is a serious storm. We've never been forced to deal with such. So we're buttoning up our little house in Jupiter and crossing our fingers in hopes all will still be here when we return.

We're still clinging to both optimism and cynicism —  Maybe Matthew will head east — Maybe it's media hyperbole — But, maybe not.

Guess we'll know in a few days.

Wish us all luck, please.

In the left hand corner of this blog is our Old Port Cove Weather Station. This will be functional as long as there's power and internet. Real Time Weather for OPC.

Cuba Can Wait

No, we normally don't make plans, but for now if one wants to visit Cuba, one must make plans.

Our thoughts — We'll, we're going to be in Key West anyway, if we can, let's make a quick hop to Cuba. 

So Mel did her due diligence and in short order, pulled it off.
I was amazed. We were legal in the eyes of the US Coast Guard and our insurance carrier agreed to cover us.

All good to go? Of course not, nothing's that easy.

The previously posted engine problem was a harbinger of the trip's undoing, but we overcame that, even had some engine maintenance done in anticipation of spending time on the island time forgot.

The real killer was the weather.

Odd weather for the The Keys and Florida Straits this time of year. July is usually windless and hot. Sadly, our USCG regulated 2 week window held 20-25 mph easterly winds and thunderstorms almost every day. Stiff easterlies are showstoppers when attempting to cross the Straits, kinda like northers when crossing to the Bahamas, and severe thunderstorms are a power boater's curse.
Every morning we'd check our sources for wind and seas and every night we'd do it again. Day after day ticked away until it became apparent that time was about to run out.  —Punt—

So as we've done many times, we adjusted and motored back to Marathon to enjoy our old hideout.


Cuba can wait.

It's surprising how quickly Cuba travel restrictions have changed in the just last month or so and we expect things to ease up even more soon.
Disappointed? A bit... We wanted to see the once forbidden island nation before the onslaught of US yachtistas race over and we've been thinking Buena Vista Social Club for 15 years, but Cuba's not going anywhere and we're not far away.
  
I'd imagine that Havana's is in our near future and doing The Bahamas-Cuba Loop would allow us to visit old friends and expand our horizons.

Perfect!
 

Cheers,

Stock Island

 Stuck on Stock Island —

Easing out of Marathon and pointing toward Hawks Channel, there was nothing but smooth seas and clear skies as far as the eye could see. Settling into a lazy 1200 RPM and slowly making way toward Key West, there was no hurry, it was going to be a short day.

Mel had read good things about Stock Island Marina Village so we thought we'd check it out before going to Key West.
After a few short hours of plodding along, we turned to Safe Harbor's approach and hailed Stock Island Marina. There was not much wind, no current to speak of and we effortlessly backed into a nice new floating dock.
All good.

Surveying our surroundings, we see a gritty industrial area with fishing boats, research vessels, boat yards, and in the midst of all this is a little oasis of a marina, Stock Island Marina Village.
The marina was teeming with seemingly bright young folks, standing by with smiling faces, eager to help catch lines.

We like the authentic low key feel of Stock Island, it's not busy like Key West Bight so we're thinking it's our kinda place.

There's a funky Keysian/Conch side to Stock Island Marina.

Coconut Row

Walking down the road that divides Coconut Row you'll experience first hand the carefree bohemian counterculture that is the Conch Republic. Probably the last bastion of this lifestyle left in the Keys, their stated goal is to bring more "Humor, Warmth and Respect" to a world in sore need of all three. Of course we wholeheartedly agree, but I'm afraid we're part of the few. Gentrification rules these days so I'd expect Coconut Row to be condos and shopping in the future. But, maybe not. Time will tell.

After looking around Stock Island, we think this is gonna be alright.

Then I go down to the engine room...

Before leaving N Palm Beach I had replaced a keel cooler hose and lost coolant. Slowly topping that off to the appropriate level, it's not unusual to add small amounts of coolant till the engine finds it's happy spot. Add too much and the big John Deere will spit coolant into the bilge; that's messy.
You can probably tell where this story is going.
The coolant level had dropped out of sight and I was concerned so I made a call. A knowledgeable buddy told me to check the engine oil. "There could be an issue with the oil cooler or something and it may be dumping coolant into the oil pan. Probably not, but check" my learned friend advised.

Surely not, I reckoned.

I reckoned wrong.

There on the dipstick, to my horror, was an extremely high oil level.

In my mind I was nervously sorting through all the possibilities: Cracked block, Head gasket, exhaust manifold, turbo... oh shit... large amounts of money... oh shit... stuck in the Keys, at their mercy... oh shit... oh shit...

I call my friend back and he validates my thoughts and fears... oh shit... oh shit... oh shit...

How could this be? I had checked the oil at Marathon. We had such a nice run, the engine was humming like always, not overheating, no oil pressure alarm, reading normal on the gauge, how could this be?

The next day I manage to find a John Deere authorized mechanic... things were looking up. (Thanks, Next Dance)
This guy shoots down the oil cooler diagnosis and leads with the more ominous and expensive causes. "You've got a serious problem", he says and he says it in the flat monotone voice of an oncologist.
But, if there's a bright side, Key West Engine has a great reputation and he's next door. There will be a mechanic over in the morning.

So to make a long story shorter, it wasn't any of the really bad things, it was the coolant/water pump. A relatively quick fix and inexpensive ($1200) part.
Istaboa doesn't have cancer.

Now for the rest of the story:

I'll tell it with emotional bullets:

• Relief that the problem wasn't catastrophic
• Surprised that they could have parts shipped overnight and start fix the next day
• Happy to see the mechanic early the next morning
• Patient when he says he'll have some new hoses shipped overnight to replace old ones.
• Perplexed when he doesn't show the next day.
• Annoyed when he doesn't show the second day
• Anger when I call Key West Engine Service and they tell me my mechanic won't be back for two more days because he has to work on another boat 
• Indignant - What's wrong with my boat and all the overnight shipped parts sitting, waiting?
• Frustrated when the power keeps going off at our slip
• Weary from lack of sleep because several times, in the middle of the night, I had to go out on the dock to reset GFI breaker
• Exasperation when the seemingly bright young marina folks tell me the power problem is my boat and my fault, not the GFI. "Use your generator", they say.
• Elation when the mechanic returns, installs pump, and coolant problem is fixed. (fingers crossed)
• Respite - We move Istaboa to another slip with good power. (Obviously Istaboa's not the problem)
• Comfort - All ACs work in all rooms.
• Relax - I've slept all night without resetting a GFI or starting the generator.
• Guarded optimism - The whole ordeal is over... we hope

So that's where we are now. It's Sunday and this all started 9 days ago.

We've spent much time in the Bahamas and we've done a lot of work over there. We understand Island Time and we can work with it.
The Lower Keys operate on a completely different style of Island Time.
In the Bahamas, that's the way the islanders were raised ... in the Keys, people from all over the world come here to get away from something... not to work. And, for the most part they don't or if they do it's at their pleasure, not yours. It's called Keys Disease.

Kinda like New Yorkers with an island attitude. (That's so not fair to all New Yorkers, sorry.)

In the Bahamas: It's de islands, Mon
In the Lower Keys: It's the Keys, asshole! Get over it. We'll get to you when we get to you. Go drink a Margarita. (That's so not fair to all Keys folk, sorry.)

We did find a nice fellow who fixed a head pump.
Perry, The Head Honcho
305-923-7861
kwheadhoncho@gmail.com

Oh yeah...  the fritz list after a week on Stock Island?  Vacuflush Head Pump, a dead, (brand new), TV, and our poor generator just got older while at the dock.

Bad timing or a black hole? Don't know.

With time on our hands, Mel and I rented a Jeep in an effort to make the best of our stay. We quickly realized a vehicle in Key West is a burden. (try finding a parking spot in the bight area.) The Lower Keys voted to ban Uber so taxis are the default mode of transportation... and they're not cheap. 

But, we did find a few nice restaurants nearby. Shrimp Road is a food truck with a bar that's a cool place to hang out. Roostica has great pizza and other Italian dishes, Hogfish Bar and Grill is exactly what it sounds like with good fish and a good hang.

So today we're booked into Conch Harbor in Key West Bight where we hope things will return to normal. We know we'll have better WiFi; that's something we control.
It's rainy and coolish today, that's nice for a change, and the forecast temps are going to be in the upper end of the 80s, another nice change.

So, all good? We hope.

Adios,

Marathon

Like coming home.

We left Miami early in hopes of catching favorable currents that would put us at the mouth of Boot Key Harbor before closing time. And, we made it. At exactly 5:00 PM we were greeting Dennis, Marathon Marina's manager, and tying up. They gave us a great slip.

I'd finished washing the salt from Istaboa and we'd walked the boys, just in time to catch a famous Marathon sunset. We've forgotten how pretty this spot is.

Kicked back, watching this sunset, recalling old memories that haven't been pulled up in a long time.

Over the years we've spent much time here. Old Marathon's Faro Blanco Oceanside Marina was shelter in our early days, it's long gone now. Nothing left but the bones of what was once a fairly functional offbeat hideout in the Keys. 

Oceanside was homeport to some of the most interesting eccentrics we've ever met. Live-aboards and castaways from all walks of life and different parts of the world occupied this weathered old marina year round. We felt fortunate to know them. Their attitudes and philosophies enriched our lives and inspired us in many ways; their tales still amuse us to this day.

The official Happy Hour on the dock started everyday at 4:30 and ended when the sun disappeared behind 7 Mile Bridge.  -BYOB-  It made no difference if you were rich or poor; or your boat was big or little. If you cared to sit and drink and sincerely get along you were made to feel welcome.

The conversations would range from sailing to exotic places around the globe to smuggling marijuana in and out of the Keys back in the 70s. Almost always ending with a discussion about the mythical Green Flash and "Happy Days" was the final toast as the gathering dispersed.

I think it was Hurricane Wilma back in 2005 that destroyed much of the marina and finally led to it's closing. By chance, we happened to be there in the final days as many of the long time live-aboards were woefully moving on.
Unlike our other layovers at Oceanside, this was a sad time, the end of an era, not, "Happy Days".

But not all has changed.

The skeletal remains of an old wreck still lies in the shallows just to the west of the marina; it's the gathering place for the many Cormorants, Gulls, and Pelicans who, like the diverse cast of characters of that bygone marina, seem to casually and effortlessly coexist.

We're, once again, TCB and enjoying our surroundings while we do. The Keys are fairly sleepy this time of year. The large groups of boaters have all migrated back up north leaving The Keys quieter and friendlier. Local folks aren't so busy, they have time to breath and enjoy the Keys themselves so the vibe is definitely more laid back.

Though it's mighty hot, we find much pleasure in the peaceful summertime at Marathon.

We think we'll drop the dink and motor over to Burdine's for a burger.

Key West is up next — So much for peaceful.

Happy days,

p.s. An old post, circa 2007 http://istaboa2007.blogspot.com/2007/03/marathon.html