The Flat Tire

I've come to the conclusion that I don't like who I am anymore. Maybe that's too harsh a conclusion. Maybe it's more appropriate to say I don't like what I have become. I came to this realization about a week ago. I was engrossed in the misery of a typical two hour commute home from work in Connecticut, when I came across a car on the shoulder of I-95 north. It was about 85 degrees and humid. There on the side of the road was a sedan with a flat tire. The owner was digging in the trunk for tools. It was painfully obvious he was unfamiliar with the process of changing the tire for which he was about to attempt. Numbly, I drove by.

I drove by.  Traffic was moving less than 5 miles per hour, and as usual, was backed up for over 20 miles. I had all the time in the world to pull over, and I drove by. About fifteen minutes and maybe a mile down the road, I realized what I had done. I could have pulled over, changed this guy's tire for him, and both of us would have been on our way. Instead I drove by. And so did the thousands of other numb, self-important commuters sharing three lanes of I-95 misery with me. We all did it.  We all left this guy and his flat tire, there on the side of the road to struggle on his own. Pathetic. I was thoroughly disgusted for what I had done.

Ten years ago, before I had ever stepped foot in Connecticut, this would have never happened. In the country, we help each other out. This is how we are raised. This is what we come to know as normal. It's a community in which common decency towards others and a willingness to help is indoctrinated. I'm ashamed for what I have allowed this toxic environment to do to me - for what I have become.

In the boating world, it's a well known fact that boaters help boaters. If a boat is in jeopardy, if it's crew needs assistance, another boater will come to aid. It's a cardinal rule at sea that if you are able to lend assistance to another boater in distress, it is your moral duty to do so. Every book I have ever read about cruising life and living aboard has always mentioned the help one can find in other boaters within an anchorage. Authors encourage their readers to proceed into the unknown, to find calm in knowing there are plenty of other boaters ready to lend a hand.

 It's this sense of community and civility that is missing from urban environments. It's this common respect and consideration for fellow man that is eroding from society, and is seemingly extinct from urban living. While I fear failing at making a new life aboard my boat in the islands, I welcome finding a sense of community and simple common consideration which is lacking in my current situation.

So if I ever spot you on the horizon off my bow struggling with a "flat tire", no worries - I'll gladly do what I can.

Island Characters: Seddy Callwood

White Bay, Jost Van Dyke

Sharon and I swimming in White Bay, Jost Van Dyke
while aboard  S/V Antiquity, 2011

Each year when we sail throughout the Virgin Islands, one of our favorite stops is the island of Jost Van Dyke.  Located just north of Tortola, Jost Van Dyke is the home to only about 300ish people.  When one imagines the absolute perfect beach bar, this is where that image comes to fruition.  We try to spend an entire day doing a pub-crawl across the island visiting all of our favorite watering holes.

Seddy Callwood's "One Love Bar"

On the western end of the beach in White Bay, "One Love Bar" will be found.  And if you are lucky, it's owner Seddy Callwood will be on hand.  On our first visit to One Love, we walked into the mostly empty sand floor establishment and ordered a couple Bushwackers.  By the way, if you have never had a Bushwacker - I highly recommend it.  As a friendly bartender made our drinks, we noticed that the only other customer at the time was slumped over the bar, seemingly inebriated.  Our drinks were just about ready when our fellow patron slowly sprang to life and began to mumble incoherently to Sharon.  His voice was barely audible, and heavily slurred.  We weren't quite sure he was even speaking English.  He became more animated, and seemingly agitated as he continued to attempt to communicate with Sharon.  It was awkward, and I felt tension rising.  I  put my drink down and moved closer thinking I needed to put space between Sharon and our local drunkard, while inserting myself between them.  This is usually how bad stories happen, so I was trying to be friendly while still positioning myself in case I needed to "thump" this guy.  He became even more animated and was now getting loud, speaking in a tongue which we could not distinguish.  Just when I thought the situation was headed south, he stood up straight, and spoke clear coherent English - we had just met Seddy and experienced his first prank of the day...

Seddy Callwood

Seddy, is son of the famous Foxy Callwood - owner of Foxy's Tamarind Bar and fellow island character.  I'll get to him in a later post...  Seddy is known to provide entertainment for visitors to his bar in the form of magic tricks and pranks.  His slight of hand, and his mystical-Rasta-meets-David-Copperfield demeanor add a whole new fun flavor to his spontaneous bar room act.  He performed quite a few tricks at the bar while we enjoyed a few rounds of drinks.  His bar, One Love, is an open air powder sand floor hut adorned in what seems like a million buoys.  Inside, like many island bars, the ceiling is covered with things past guests have left behind.  There are too many bikinis, t-shirts, flags and pennants to even count.  One Love seems to play second fiddle to the more famous Soggy Dollar bar just down the beach which I think is a bonus.  There are simply less people that venture here, leaving more of Seddy's tricks for the rest of us.  So when you visit White Bay, stop in and say hello to Seddy.  I've found one of his best tricks is making your sobriety disappear.

Not the greatest picture, but the only one I got of us with Seddy

Island Characters: Peter Hoschl

"Angel's Rest" Bar, Coral Bay St. John

As time goes on, I plan on introducing some of the "characters" I've met during my island travels.  What is a character?  A character to me is someone who stands out among others.  A character is someone who stands out not because they dress funny or because they seek childish attention in shock value like present day "celebrities", but rather because they have an interesting story to share.  There is something about them that draws others to them.

Peter Hoschl, owner/creator, "Angel's Rest"

Peter Hoschl is the owner and creator of "Angel's Rest" bar.  If ever there was a horse of a different color - this bar is it.  Anyone who has ever spent time on a pontoon boat will appreciate this.  Peter is a self described hippy, with a background in construction.  He rescued this 40 foot - yes I said 40 foot - pontoon boat and did a frame-up build of Angel's Rest himself.  On top of the massive pontoon frame, Peter constructed a typical island bar, complete with glass table and chairs, entrances to port and starboard, day beds for lounging forward, and a ladder leading to an upstairs "porch" complete with loungers aft.  Under the glass table and chairs is a circular cutout in the floor, allowing for easy viewing of graceful sea turtles swimming below.  I'm not even sure what to call the bathroom aboard Angel's Rest.  On land in a house, it would be called a bathroom.  On a boat, it's called a head.  I'll leave you to decide whether Angel's rest is a floating house/bar, or a boat.

Cutout under the table

Tim swimming from S/V Magewind to
Angel's Rest for cocktails

Angel's Rest resides on a mooring in Coral Bay on the east end of the island of St. John in the USVI.  St. John has only two towns - Cruz Bay to the west, Coral Bay to the east.  Each day Peter fires up the two Evinrude outboard engines fitted to Angel's Rest, and leisurely motors to Hansen Bay in the far east tip of St. John where he sets anchor and opens up bar for anyone that wants to swim or dinghy to him.  Pricing?  That's easy.  Every drink is five dollars no matter what you order.  Drinks come served with entertaining jokes and stories as tall as the hills that make up the surrounding island.  Listening to Peter describe how he "checked out", and how Angel's Rest got its name is in and of itself worth at least a few rum cocktails.  I will warn you though - Peter pours with a heavy hand...  The swim back to shore or back to your yacht can be tricky.

Sharon saying good-bye for another year

Bar is closing - everybody off!

When the day is growing old and the sun flirts with the horizon, Peter will promptly exclaim with a grin - "Bar is closing.  Everybody off my boat".  Like a school of fish, patrons file off the side into the cool Caribbean water and swim off in their respective directions.  With anchor pulled up, and the sun now sinking into the sea, Peter motors off into the distance like a cool Caribbean cowboy.  Time to restock, a new day will soon come.

Usually I go home after the bar - here the bar goes home after me

Islands and ADKs

When my wife and I met, there was no way we would have ever known we would one day be contemplating a complete change in direction after well rooting ourselves with houses, careers, etc.  Some things happen simply by chance, while others are a product of one's surrounding environment.

Sharon and Rebel snowshoeing

The very first time I took my future wife to my hometown in the Adirondacks, we stepped out of my Dodge pickup into -22F temperatures and a windchill with a punch like Mike Tyson.  Friends soon arrived at my doorstep to take us out for a night on the "town".  We took her to some local watering holes of dubious distinction - "The Skunk's Nest", "The Wayside" - only the classiest joints for me...  The fact that she didn't want to leave by the next morning was a sign that she was a keeper.  The following day the excitement of showing her my beloved lake nearly got us in serious trouble.  In hyper anticipation of sharing my hometown, I soon found myself navigating my truck in the knee deep snow of un-plowed seasonal roads.  I had so anxiously headed out of the house that I had failed to properly prepare with boots, heavy coats and gloves - winter weather attire.  When my truck spun and ground itself down deeply into the snow I realized we were now sitting on the frame which was robbing precious traction, and we were far down a narrow one-way road.  We were still early on in our relationship so I worked hard to hide my initial panic.  After assuring her all was fine and "normal" I managed to execute a virtual 135-point turn, squeaking out enough traction here and there to get us out.  Awkward situation averted...  Soon thereafter it was summer again and we returned to the Adirondacks, and again to the lake.  The effect the area had on her was immediate and exactly what I had hoped for - she was smitten with the area I called 'home' just as much as I was.  I couldn't have hoped for more.

Crown Princess at the Bonaire pier

Years would pass and we found ourselves on our honeymoon.  Sharon was determined to show me a place that meant as much to her as my precious Adirondacks meant to me.  We booked a cruise with an eastern Caribbean itinerary.  I had seen the crystal blue waters of the Caribbean in pictures and on TV, always wondering if they were truly as turquoise as the pictures showed.  I also had an affinity for steel drums and reggae music, both of which I was hoping to experience while on this honeymoon cruise.  Words can not express the profound impact of seeing and experiencing these things in person for the first time.  Even though we were on a cruise and were viewing a very cleansed and diluted version, there was definitely something here.  As I was thrilled that Sharon had fallen in love with the Adirondacks, she was equally pleased that I was starting my own affair with the islands.

Aboard S/V Kuralu sailing back to Tortola

Over the next years we began to cruise every year.  We quickly found though, that we were not like the large majority of fellow cruise ship passengers.  While most were perfectly happy to quickly consume what the cruise line dished on a platter - we found that we were venturing further and further from the ship seeking adventure and a more "real" view of the islands we visited.  We booked our cruises a year in advance, chosen by itinerary.  We spent the year prior reading and researching, finding new places to explore.  More times than not, we went sailing and snorkeling away from the ship.  After each cruise it was a given that our favorite part of the entire vacation was away from the ship, usually on a sailboat.  This slow progression is how we were swayed away from cruise ships, and towards private sailing vacations.  While the cruise ships were a great way to explore a massive portion of the Caribbean islands in a short number of years, we were now narrowing our pursuit of adventure.  We wanted to go places on our own schedule, as we saw fit.  We wanted to go where cruise ships simply could not.  We wanted to reduce the passenger count from 3000 down to 2.

Fast forward almost 10 years.  It's time for a new life.  Our love of the Adirondack mountains, and of the Caribbean islands has not faded.  If anything, it has grown with us and matured from a lofty dream to a fledgling set of plans.  The parallels between the Adirondacks and the islands are uncanny.  The areas are rugged, as are the people.  Life in either place is hard.  Climates are challenging.  Weather can be brutal although opposite.  In the Adirondacks the winter can beat people and things into submission, while in the islands the heat and the dreaded hurricane season can weather even the heartiest of souls.  Populations are low.  Communities are tight-knit.  Tourism is the dollar king.  The list goes on and on.  I even dare to ask one to find a beach in the Caribbean without an Adirondack chair gracing its warm white sands.  And those local watering holes where I first took Sharon - "The Skunk's Nest", "The Wayside"?...  They are really nothing more than cold weather cousins of "Foxy's Tamarind Bar" and "Woody's Seafood Saloon".  As we embark on a journey towards a new life in the Caribbean, all we are really doing is adding heat to an Adirondack life we love.

Sharon at the Trunk Bay overlook, St. John USVI

Charter your own private yacht

Have you ever wondered what it's like to live aboard a yacht?  Have you ever been on a snorkel tour or day sail and wondered what it would be like if you were the only guest aboard?  Are you thinking this is expensive and way out of reach?  Think again.

When we stumbled upon the yacht charter industry, we knew nothing about it.  We saw an ad in the magazine "Caribbean Travel + Life" for Festiva Sailing Vacations.  Festiva was fairly interesting.  They offered a cabin on a Lagoon 440 sailing catamaran, complete with crew for a very reasonable price.  While attractive, the issue we had is that there would be 3 other unknown couples.  I could see where this could be a big issue.  Tight quarters (even on a luxury yacht) with someone you don't get along with would make for a miserable vacation.  None the less, we were intrigued and followed with more digging on the subject.

Enter "Dream Cruises: The Insider's Guide to Private Yacht Charter Vacations" by Kim Kavin.  This book is the definitive guide to understanding the yacht charter industry.  It reads quickly, details all the options and aspects of the industry, and gives almost step-by-step instructions of how to book your private yacht charter.  From finding a broker, to weighing your charter options, booking a boat and crew, and planning your itinerary - this book covers it all.  One thing the book makes abundantly clear is that this type of vacation is not only for the rich or privileged, but rather something that is attainable by all.

So go ahead, read up and take the plunge.  You could be in this video.  This was shot during our latest charter aboard "Magewind", a 46 foot catamaran in November 2012.

The Drinking Man's Guide.....

We all dream of spending time at the quintessential palm lined white sand beach, surrounded by crystal blue waters.  After a day sailing, exploring, hiking, or whatever strikes your fancy - what better way to relax than by checking out the local watering hole.  This my friends, is something I excel at.  I would dare say I'm down right talented at sniffing out new tropical temptations.

Like any other subject, to become proficient one must study.  This requires sufficient resources.  In the British Virgin Islands, luckily these resources are easy to find.  There is no better guide for a little bar-ology than "The Drinking Man's Guide to the BVI" by Julian Putley.  This guide covers all the island haunts that even the most surly pirate would be proud of.

The book contains simple maps with numbered locations and legends showing each corresponding bar name.  Each numbered location corresponds to that bar's page in the book.  The  write up for each bar contains a catchy poem, a nice description, and usually a drink recipe or two for specialty drinks served there.  With a little bit of planning, and an understanding of how to get around in the Virgins, one can easily fit a good number of these bars into a week long visit.

One of our "more used" pages 

So...  What's better than a book that guides you through the best drinking in the BVIs?  This book has a kicker.  In the last pages of the book, each bar has a drink special and a place for a bartender to sign off.  Free drinks?  I ask you - what is better than free island drinks?  Through the years, Sharon and I have put quite a dent in our sign-offs.  We even ask bartenders to sign each year even though we have already enjoyed the free drink.  This book is a great memento
(sometimes you need these after a good night of rum) of your liquid exploration.

Autograph of Micheal "Beans", a great island character and popular musician

Sailing back to my senses

When I began the process of learning to sail, I was taken aback by what seemed like an infinite variety of things happening - all of which must be tracked and managed at the same time to safely and effectively sail.  I have never been a quick thinker.  I analyze, evaluate, and attempt to make an informed decision.  This is probably why I was never great at sports.  The best players think quickly, and simply react to the environment of which they are immersed in at that moment.

As I began to understand the pure physics of sailing, the next task was to actually perform the physical task of doing it.  It wasn't easy, it was awkward.  I was trying to analyze the direction and speed of the wind, the angle of my sails, and the direction I needed to push or pull the tiller.  I was a mess.  I mostly knew "what" I needed to do, but my brain was busy analyzing things that had already happened while my body was awkwardly trying to handle the things that were currently happening.  I was one step behind my situation at all times.

For me this was a terrifying and telling moment.  Flashbacks of myself as an uncoordinated teen on a highschool basketball team flashed through my head.  Maybe I would just never "get it".  That thought of failure was almost paralyzing to me.  I really wanted this. Sailing wasn't something I intended for myself as just a hobby - this was intended to be a start of a new life.  An escape plan.

Living in Connecticut for almost 10 years now has not been fun.  I have come to realize my senses have been dulled, nearly erased.  I feel less compassion.  I notice less of the world around me.  Often it takes me up to two hours each way to get to and from work, and then I don't remember the trip.   Sometimes I have found that I have driven somewhere, only to realize I don't know where I am or how I got there.  I don't stop, nor do I have time to stop and "smell the roses" as they say.  Urban environments are like ant colonies.  People move like ants, in endless lines on the ground.  They crowd into tiny places like ants to an ant hill.  They seemingly have no regard for one another.  But somehow like an ant colony, it somehow works.  At least it works for some.  Urban living is not for me.  For me, Connecticut is torture.  I'm merely a nameless ant trying to not get run over by the millions of other ants with pure disregard.  I feel nothing, I see nothing. I simply move day to day while life passes me by.

So in my moments of panic while learning to sail, feeling that I might not ever "get it" - I kept going.  I told myself that if other people do it, it must be possible.  Soon, I found that my brain wasn't analyzing the sails and the wind and the waves and the tiller.  It was starting to all work together as my brain went against its nature of over thinking my situation.  Like learning to ride a bike, my body and my knowledge of sailing began to take over.  It was an immensely freeing moment.  I am not entirely sure of the exact point in time when it happened.  The important part is that it did.

Then came the side effect.  I began to sense again.  I began to notice the environment around me, something that had been long forgotten.  Without my brain going into analysis-paralysis, I noticed the wind direction and speed.  I notice the sights, sounds, and smells around me.  I see the water, the waves, the trees on the shoreline.  I don't think about the sheets, the tiller direction or the wind or the concert in which they must all work together.  It just happens now.  This may seem like such a minuscule thing to many, but imagine being robbed of these things.  These simple things are part of "normal" life, one that I will someday be glad to get back.  For now, I'll go sailing.