Things said on board Hideaway in the last 24 hours:
“You only have 3 things to worry about: Keeping the course as close to 125 degrees as possible, keeping the mainsail filled and not falling overboard. Got it? I’m off to bed.”
“Just something to keep in mind, I’m not entirely sure that meat you’re eating is any good.”
“Is that cat puke or spilled food?”
“Our next boat should totally have flashing blue disco lights on the mast.”
“Where are all these broken bits of plastic coming from?”
“Do we even know where our emergency tiller is?”
“Yay! Our alternator is working again! Oh, wait. No, it’s not.”
“The grib files say 10 knots from the northeast, so why are we getting 28 knots from the east?”
“What would make a better weapon? The corkscrew or a can of bug spray?”
“That cloud looks kind of like a girl with pigtails taking a shit.”
“We spent $250 on groceries and the only meal we have on board is mac-n-cheese?”
“People who say you get fit just being on a boat are full of shit. All I do is sit and stare. It’s like the equivalent of sitting on a couch for 24 hours with breaks for eating and napping. No fitness trainer has ever recommended that to me as a regime.”
“Keep the music down so I can hear you scream if you fall overboard.”
When we finally pull up to St. Martin after one false start and a brief encounter with a waterspout, we are relieved to have finally made it.
Though we love cruising around the Virgin Islands, we’d gotten a little stuck in St. Thomas, a cruise ship haven full of American tourists, where Hideaway lived for over 10 weeks as we flew back and forth to New York to deal with the sale of our businesses, and as we nursed our cat Celia back to life from liver failure with the help of the amazing vets at Canines, Cats and Critters.
So now that we’re free of work obligations and our furry crew are in good health, it is finally time to do what we so desperately keep trying to do: go cruising in the Caribbean!
Plans are slowly forming, we’re checking the weather on our Pocket Grib app every few hours and conversation is dominated by what toys we’d like to have on our next boat. We are back in the game and furiously knocking on wood, trying to keep the anti-cruising curses at bay.