January, 2010 - I have mentioned John Lennon's insight that "life is what
happens to you while you are busy making other plans" elsewhere on
these pages, and once again, while in Carriacou, those words proved so
true for us. I have long had a dream of going cruising in a sailboat and
have gradually lured Mark into this dream. His response has ranged
from all smiles to the rare bout of kicking and screaming, but he finally
agreed to purchase a boat a year ago. The boat buying process left us
so stressed out last May that we got into a fender bender with the trailer
in California and ended up touring Michigan by car and motel for seven
weeks while the trailer was repaired and while we decompressed. We
returned to the trailer determined to let the boat idea slide for a while, but
found ourselves glued to Yachtworld, the online Multiple Listing Service
for boats. Every time we got online to check for email, no matter where
in the world we were, we did a quick check of Yachtworld too.
When we went to the Caribbean for the winter we vowed not to look at
Yachtworld any more. But one afternoon, while sitting out on our balcony,
Mark slipped up and took a quick peak. "Wow! Look at this!" He jumped out
of his patio chair. A boat we had seen for sale almost a year earlier was
back on the market, but this time hugely discounted, as it was now bank
owned. I shrugged it off. It would be gone by the time we got back to the
States. But over the ensuing days Mark wouldn't let it go. He found the
broker had an easy online bid page, and one afternoon he filled it out,
stopping just before he clicked "send." While he went in to take a shower, I
checked out his bid, lowered the amount by a bunch and hit the "send"
button for him. Within 30 minutes we had an answer from the bank -- and a
huge dilemma on our hands: should we dash away from paradise to the
hurly burly of buying our dream boat for an amazing price in the middle of
winter, with the very real chance that things could go awry and leave us
empty-handed, or stay on swimming and walking and mixing with the locals on the white sand beaches of the Caribbean?
While casting about for an answer, discussing our options, reasons,
hopes and fears endlessly, Mark woke up one day with Simon and
Garfunckle's song Feelin' Groovy running through his mind. He had
been coming up with prospective names for boats on a sometimes
hourly basis for the past two years, to the point where it became a
comical game for both of us, but none of the names ever stuck.
However, when he rolled over that morning and said, "We should
name the boat 'Groovy'," we both knew our new boat had a name.
New Year's Eve found us flying out of St. Vincent, staring down at the
turquoise sea dotted with little white sailboats, wondering if we would
truly be out there joining them soon or if we were totally out of our
minds to be leaving. The long holiday weekend was a crazy one for
international travel, and especially for last minute ticket purcases.
Starting with the hike from our Bequia apartment to the ferry boat, then on to the St. Vincent bus ride across town to catch a
small inter-island flight to St. Lucia, followed by an hour-and-a-half taxi ride over that island's mountainous interior to its bigger
airport, and finally hopping on three jet flights that bounced up the Caribbean chain and across the US to San Diego, we were
in transit for a total of 33 hours.
Because a terrorist had tried to bomb a flight to Detroit on Christmas
day, security was extraordinary. Apparently St. Lucia is a "country of
interest," so not only were we patted down and each of our carry-on
bags hand-searched when we entered the St. Lucia terminal, but all
passengers were patted down and every pocket of every piece of
luggage searched a second time as we all boarded the plane. It took
two hours to get everyone aboard, and we, of course, were the last
ones on. The gazillion TSA agents were high-fiving each other as we
left their clutches, the final plane of the day. They were oh-so-ready
to celebrate New Year's Eve island style. We rang in the new year at
New York's JFK airport a few hours later, while standing in line at
Customs. Back on American soil, we snagged some blankets and
pillows from the plane and bedded down on a nice, comfy, secluded
conveyor belt in the terminal to await our morning flight to California.
Once we arrived in San Diego, we went
straight to the boat to check it out.
Chained and padlocked to the dock, it
was just as cool a boat as it looked in the
photos. It is a 2008 Hunter 44DS (44'
long), the last unit of that model ever
built. After crawling through many many
boats over the past four years, we had
decided a year ago that this was the
exact make and model we wanted. It was
also the fourth such boat we had made
an offer on, the youngest by several
years and the cheapest by many
thousands. What incredible good fortune.
Boat purchases involve a "sea trial" and
"survey" which are something like a test drive and home inspection, but you
must reach a price agreement with the seller before either can take place.
For the survey, a professional examines the boat very carefully, checking all
the systems and hauling it out of the water for a look at the bottom. Groggy
from lack of sleep, jet lag, and still wondering if we were doing the right thing,
we were both ecstatic as we took turns at the helm on the way to the boat
yard. Our surveyor studied
every inch of the boat for a
full day, tapping the hull
with his hammer to check
for problems and making
endless notes on his
clipboard. In the end he
declared it the cleanest
survey he had ever done.
Wow. Gorgeous weather greeted
us and our spirits rose higher and
higher -- even as fear gripped our
souls because this was such a big
move for us. We were glad it was
shorts weather, as all we had with
us was tropical-wear and airport-wear. Everything else
was in Phoenix. We stayed with our son and daughter-
in-law and took some time out to explore Seaport
Village with them and catch our breath.
This area was as charming as we remembered it being
a year ago. Families were wandering through the
boutique stores, enjoying the last bit of the holiday
break together. We spotted a mom with her
two kids getting a picture of themselves with
their cell phone.
A little further on a man was demonstrating
rock balancing, placing rocks in impossible
positions on top of each other and
miraculously willing them not to fall down.
He claimed there were no tricks or
gimmicks, but how he could sense where
the balance point was of each rock was
beyond me.
The boutiques were all well stocked with
their Christmas goods and the paths were
meticulously maintained. There is something ever-
friendly and ever-accessible about the San Diego
waterfront. We stopped at Hot Licks, a store with a dizzying array of hot sauces lining
every shelf.
Down at the Midway
Aircraft Carrier
museum a retired
Naval officer told
stories of various ships
and their adventures
on the high seas long
ago.
A group of statues nearby commemorates Bob Hope's many USO
performances, and a little girl wandered among the statues,
carefully checking out each one.
You never know what you'll find on the San Diego waterfront, and
as we strolled a little further we came across a group Segway
lesson. Those contraptions look like so much fun.
A few days later all the pieces were in place for us to close on the boat. A
mad dash to Phoenix had augmented our clothes collection so we could
handle the weather that was becoming increasingly cool and damp. At the
same time we had had to stand in the trailer and decide whether to take the
kitchen tools, favorite books, bedding, etc. or buy new things for the boat.
Our plan was to split our time between RVing in the US/Canada and sailing in
Mexico, hitting the prime summer spots on land with the trailer during the
southern Mexican hurricane season. So we didn't want to raid too much from
the trailer. But did this new move really mean stocking two homes? What
about tools? Hoses? Holding tank chemicals? Personal papers? We had
planned to stay on the boat for the first twelve months before we started
splitting our time between RVing and sailing. So were we really saying goodbye to the trailer for a year? Yikes! We loaded
the truck and sped back to San Diego in time to sign all the paperwork, sticking with the tasks at hand to keep all these wild
emotions in check.
Since our intent was to use the boat outside of California (in Mexico), we
qualified for the state exemption from paying "use tax" (similar to sales tax) on
the purchase. However, California (like all other coastal states) has strict rules
that state precisely how a boat buyer demonstrates his/her intent to use the boat
predominantly outside of the state. One of these is to take the boat out of
California waters for the closing. This is just 3 miles offshore, but requires a
captain to sail the boat until the closing takes place, and then lots of photos
proving both the day's date and that the boat is at a GPS coordinate outside of
the state when the documents are signed. We had especially memorable
headlines on the newspaper that day, as an earthquake had just devastated
Haiti.
This was an exciting moment and was our
first extended period of time out in the boat
on the water. It was great to be out there,
but we both felt woefully inadequate to take
charge of this vessel all by ourselves. Our
next trip out there would be no guiding
hand, and we wondered how we would fare.
Once back at the dock, we hung out
in the cabin in a state of disbelief.
We had done it. Fourteen days from
the time we left the islands, we were sitting on our own boat.
Were we out of our minds?
The seller was kind enough to pre-pay a two week stay at Kona
Marina in San Diego, one of the nicest marinas in the harbor.
We had spent many happy hours in the past sneaking onto this
marina's docks and then wandering around checking out all the
boats and talking to the owners. It was a strange and wonderful
feeling to have a card key to the gate and to walk onto the
docks as bona-fide boat owners.
We had signed our names on the closing documents, but there was
still a lot more to do. The second part of California's requirement for
demonstrating intent to use your new boat outside of California is to
leave the state as soon as possible after the closing and to stay out
for at least six months. We decided to sail to Ensenada, Mexico, 65
miles south of San Diego.
Our to-do list to prepare for this international voyage was several
pages long. From a small sail repair to testing the radar to
remembering how to sail and navigate, we had a lot to do to make
this easy 65 mile trip a safe one.
Taking a little time out, we
explored nearby Ocean Beach.
This is a surfing community that has a
hippy kind of air to it, and it's a place
where it seems that anything goes. A
little dog in a froo-froo dress fit right in.
Surfing, hamburgers in paradise and
cheap beers at outdoor bars
overlooking the beach invite all
tourists to partake of the classic
California beach scene for a while.
A street musician sang his
heart out as we strolled by.
Pirate's Cove Coffee is the
most elaborate coffee kiosk I
have ever seen.
Back on the boat we were
slowly getting used to the idea
of being boat owners, living on
a sailboat, and starting a new
chapter in our lives.
Out on the water the weather got
steadily cooler. Short sleeves gave way
to hats and jackets as we gradually
remembered which lines on the boat do
what, how sailboats work with the wind,
and what all those crazy markings on
the charts are all about.
Then San Diego got one of
the worst dousings of rain in
the last decade. In one week
they got almost as much rain
as they had in the entire
previous year. We alternated
between huddling inside and running endless
errands to the big box stores as the rain fell in
torrents.
In a way, all that miserable weather was a
blessing in disguise, as it kept us ticking down
our non-sailing to-do lists. I read 150 pages of
Chapman's Piloting's navigation
chapters to refresh my skills, and
Mark read the chartplotter and radar
manual, engine manual and
Hunter's user manual. When the
day finally arrived that the sun came
out, we were able to focus on
sailing.
We had one brief family day aboard, taking our son Rory
and his wife Colette out for a day sail. It was a moment that
Mark had long been waiting for, wanting to introduce his
son to the world of sailing. Rory caught on quickly, and we
found it was so much easier to sail with a strapping young
man on board who could handle all the lines one-handed
without a winch. After a pleasant few hours on the water,
we hugged them goodbye at the dock. Thirty hours later
we untied the lines at Kona Marina for the last time, and left
San Diego in the morning mist behind us as we headed for
Puerto La Salina, Mexico, our first stop on the way to
Ensenada.