To Calabash Bay

En Route to Calabash Bay, Long Island
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Bear had his last swim in the anchorage of Clarence Town, shower, supper, a few games, a pretty sunset and bed

 

 

 

 

 

Anchor up at eight, we passed through the silly little buoys, submerged in a small swell, but they do flash gaily at night. Another fly past, this time by helicopter

 

 

 
 

 

Cocktails in hand, we celebrated crossing the Tropic of Cancer. I was a bit sad as it was always my ambition to cruise anywhere providing it was between the Tropics. Here I am en route to sip tea beneath the Statue of Liberty at forty two degrees north and now I am whinnying about twenty seven and a bit degrees, at least it will be summer.

 

 

 
 
 
 
 

After further reading we now know the chap who named Long Island did so because it took so long to sail up and past. With that in mind I thought I would pass an hour or so by inputting some further courses/journeys into the GPS. To get some of the way points I had to look in the fantastic, but rather large Explorer Chartbook (a must cruising in these waters - Bear modeling one as I don't want to touch them again). As I picked said book up, I somehow ended the movement with a paper cut across my right nipple. I cannot begin to describe the searing pain. No photographic evidence inserted at this juncture as I KNOW you all can picture / feel / sympathise at this point. I took myself to the stern platform and splashed, letting the cooling water of the Atlantic Ocean ease the experience. Feeling slightly better but trashing the GPS idea I went forward, metal cleaner and cloth in hand to polish the stainless steel which was looking a bit dull. Feeling good and pleased with the results, I looked up and saw we were approaching the top of the island and I ought to make my way back to the cockpit to take the wheel. En route I attempted to break my left middle toe on the genoa sheet traveler - my toe fitted nicely in the space between the wheel and the sliding bit, I heard a crack and acute pain. Said traveler now has a completely different name but you'll have to guess and double it, say it loudly and in a threatening tone.

 

Two previously unwritten about phenomena need to be added to give the fuller picture are:

Bitch-Lips – is when I have had a full day in the sun and the wind. A hat doesn’t necessarily make too much difference to the outcome, although it stops the sun compounding the situation a little I suppose. By bedtime my lips feel like I have sucked an exhaust pipe all afternoon, the result - slightly swollen or fully swollen lips, then I get an overwhelming need to reach for my lip salve. This is stuck up next to the bed, held strategically by Velcro. Usually OK by the morning.

Bitch-Beak – is much more sinister in that I don’t feel it happening. Again a hat helps but no good against the wind. I only notice when I go to scratch my beak – then it feels like I am rubbing a stinging nettle or a piece of fine grade cactus over the end of my proboscis. I have been known to lip salve that as well. If I remember (rarely) I put a bit of heavy-duty sunscreen on. This is the start of Beakitis. Hear Pepe growl.

 

 

 

 

Rounding the corner we passed the Columbus Monument we had been to in the car on our road trip the other day.

 

 

 

 

 

 

We pulled into the bay and anchored at four, in front of the Stella Maris Resort, where we had eaten lunch, again on our road trip.

 

 

 
 

 

Later I lost at backgammon and gained little money at Rummikub thought I heard “you never close your eyes any more when I kiss your lips.................you’ve lost that loving feeling” playing in my head. I feel as charitable as a poke in the eye with a poison dart, pigmy still attached, hanging on manfully with little arms and a vice-like grip. That night I thankfully crawled into bed with my throbbing left middle toe, pounding left heel, screaming right shoulder girdle, exquisite right nipple, pulsating lips and beakitis, saying as I went, “ If you happen to touch my toe I will reciprocate with serious bodily damage of an unspecified nature and if you come within six inches of my right breast prepare yourself for the worst”.

Goodnight Darling, sleep tight.

Have you ever seen someone smiling sweetly just as their pillow is forcefully applied over their face under great pressure?

Bear has.

Turn over Bear, turn over.

 

First thing next morning, I went to jump out of bed as normal having temporarily forgotten the previous twenty four hours. As my weight pressed down on my left heel, throbbing. I looked down to check for blood as my toe felt the first rush of gravity, the poor little blackened digit couldn't imagine a higher degree of pain. I managed to scuff the towel over my right nipple during the teeth and face cleaning procedure........ Joy

 

 

 

ALL IN ALL JUST HOW MUCH CAN HAPPEN IN FORTY SIX MILES