Jackie O off of the Mangrove Shoreline...ahhhhhhhh...

Spanish Cay afternoon.

A happy wife is a happy life.

Falling in love all over again.

Spanish Cay early evening.

Enjoying the view.

Beauty on Spanish Cay.

Kate enjoying the sun on Mangrove Cay.

Nate in our 'dink' which we named Shrimp.

Chenaz and her father Ali. Two Fox Town residents.

Nate at the helm!

The Payoff

West End-Mangrove Cay-Great Sale Cay-Fox Town-Spanish Cay-Great Turtle Cay  

We've finally taken a step away from solid land to a remote branch of islands off of the west end of the Bahamas.  The passage from Florida was pretty much what we expected as far as it being wavy and windy.  We got to do some sailing but the ocean became extremely rocky when we got out.  Luckily, we had Captain Uncle Rick on board to help us trim the sails and offer some other sailing tips while we were underway.  Aside from a slight bought of seasickness, Kate and I both faired pretty well.  After twelve hours at sea, we sailing into the night which was a very new experience for us.  Our navigation became incredibly reliant on our GPS system as we were heading towards what we were hoping were the lights of the West End.

Anchoring the boat just off the west end was somewhat concerning because we had no idea what was around us.  When set up shop and hoped for the best.  The following morning, we woke up to a rock break on one side, and nothing for miles except the ocean on the other.  The water was only six feet deep and crystal clear.  

The next step was to pull into the west end bay area and check into customs (which was finally a breeze).   After getting our passports stamped yet again, we pushed off onto our next leg of the journey.   On the way, we navigated through very shallow waters - just over a foot beyond the bottom of our boat.  Once arriving at the deserted island Mangrove Cay, we got to see a beautiful sunset and enjoy a very quiet night in calm waters.  The stars were magnificent.  The next day, we sailed to yet another deserted island, Great Sale Cay.  We checked it out, decided that the beach was too rocky and left.  Off to Fox Town.

Fox town had a small grocery store, a police office, a health center and a primary school with approximately thirty brightly painted houses on it.  I hate to say it, but Fox town was dirty.  As Kate and I wandered the streets we came across some very kind locals who were entertaining when understood.  By noon we took off for Spanish Cay where there was a beautiful resort and marina awaiting our arrival.  We emailed our family members and went for a nice long walk in the evening under the brilliant stars.  Besides two other sailboats, we had the entire resort and island to ourselves.  

Our next destination is Great Turtle Cay for a few nights, and then we plan on meeting Kate's mother and father Laurie and Don Hoyda, in Treasure Cay for a two week holiday.

  

M.I.A

Hi Everyone!

We're in a location where internet access is very difficult to attain; but we'll be posting pictures really soon.  Stay tuned...

love Kate and Nate

IMMIGRATION IRRITATION

I have no problem admitting that I get along well with others.  I say the right things to make people feel comfortable, I give compliments freely, I ask questions and then listen to the answers, I'm quick to get a joke in here and there, I speak without issues in front of small and large audiences and I understand how to work a situation to my advantage without compromising my personality.  I've even been called overly-confident with others, which I took as a compliment.  I pride myself in knowing I made a grumpy old black priest smile in the middle of a strict high school classroom speech on student etiqette and behaviour -proudest moment of my grade twelve year.  I'm really not one of those people who gets nervous and sweats when put in a social situation. I can handle it all.  Or so I thought.  I thought I could handle it all but was sorely mistaken with the first of many experiences with the lovely and wonderful United States Customs officers.  

As many of you may already know, I was stopped in Toronto by a U.S customs agent on my way to Fort Lauderdale after a short visit away from the boat in November.  Unfortunately, I ended up suffering from a severe case of verbal diarrhea when asked a few very simple and direct questions.  I hadn't anticipated spewing our entire travel story (despite continual reminders from my parents about using one word answers with these guys)  and before I knew what was happening, I was succumbing to all of the officers questions concerning work, vacation, money, family, friends our home address, you name it.  Those American Customs agents now know the first name of my principle at James Fowler High School, (sorry Keith...p.s you might be getting a phone call).  What initially got me into trouble was that I was asked whether or not my husband (who was still in Florida working on renovating the boat), was working?  The officer specifically asked me; "Is your husband working?" and I specifically answered; "Yes".  However, I failed to mention; "Yes, he's working on renovating our boat and not working for an American employer".  Mistake number one.  So, the officers face goes from reading the computer screen to slowing turning his head in my direction and looking at me straight in the eyes.  He then asks:  "But how is your husband working without an American work visa?"  Oh dear goodness.  

To make a long story short, I'll just tell you that I was held in a holding room for over two hours BY MYSELF, and questioned by another officer.  I swear it was like straight out of a movie.  The only thing that was missing was a long monologue confessing murder.  The room had a two way mirror which faced a single gray chair.  There was even a glass of water sitting in the middle of a hard gray table teasing me about talking so damn much to the first customs guy.  I bet you want to drink me Kate, come on, you know you want a little sip...especially after all that blabbing.  Take a little drink...aren't you thirsty?   Your throat must me so dry.  You know you want me.  Come on.  Damn you water!!  So, after a few tears, a flash of nervous frustration involving a high pitched teenage squeak from my twenty-eight year old voice box, some sweating, and a failed attempt at making the agent smile with a totally cute joke, I got through the boarder inspection interrogation.

The next wonderful experience with a U.S customs agent occured only four weeks later when Nathan and I went on a lovely trip with the in-laws to Mexico; but this time, Nate and I were prepared.  We had our story totally straight right down to dates and times, and our future plans.  It was all good...or so I thought.  We arrived in Fort Lauderdale from Cancun - a major drug capital of Mexico, yes, the universe has a sense of humor, only to be told directly from the first customs officer that we needed to accompany him into yet another holding room.  But I thought to myself, this is all okay because Nate and I are together.  Thank GOD he was with me this time, especially since I told him that he had to do all of the talking cause I get too nervous with these hard core cops.  So, we're escorted into this cramped holding room, were we waited patiently for 2 1/2 hours with a massive group of friendly Haitian and Jamaican immigrants.  (Two of these things are not like the others).  We're told that our names will be called and that we'll be questioned soon enough.  What we didn't realize is that they would be questioning us separately and that I would be going first...my first thought...what?!?!  They're splitting us up?!?!?!  NO!!!!!  "Kathryn Alberta Weiland, please follow me into my wonderful world of blunt, rude and uncomfortable questions where you will be nervous and sweating.  Your husband can stay seated cause we know your plan".  But after all of the questions, all of the sweating, all of the nervous butterflies that we both had, once again, we got through the boarder inspection interrogation...but just barely.

Finally, our last and most recent gong show with the agents.  THIS time, we were completely ready, in fact, we were even looking at the whole situation like a game.  Which one of us could convince the U.S customs officer that we weren't smuggling drugs, working illegally, or planning some sort of terrorist attack in the least amount of time??? Winner takes all and all = Beer.  But it was no surprise when Nate won.  In fact, the third time, I didn't even get asked any questions.  I'm convinced it was because I looked so naturally innocent, they just assumed that the husband was the one with all the answers.  Either that, or they had on file that I cried and sweat profusely and tried to deliver a stupid joke back in Toronto in November and weren't even going to try with me.  Regardless, we got through the third and hopefully final boarder inspection interrogations...

So, here we are, enjoying days in the sunshine on our beautiful boat in the crystal clear blue warm waters of the Atlantic ocean.  I sorta feel like a woman who is constantly getting away with eating Nibs and Oreos and not gaining any weight.  On January 31st, we'll be meeting up with Mom and Dad Hoyda in Nassau for two weeks and then off to a few hundred other islands in the sun.   Even with all of the trials, errors, mistakes and tears, I can definitely say that this trip is definitely worth it.

Wishing everyone a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

Dec 9th Nate's 28th

Nate gets a birthday treat from Mary :)

Florida Friends

Making friends that are our age in Florida hasn't been easy.  Maybe it's because the state's median age is 38.7, or maybe it's because the vast majority of sailors that we've met seem to be single men over the age of 50.   Whatever the reason, there just doesn't seem to be many twenty-somethings out there doing the same thing that we are.  However, even with these 'age obstacles' , Nate and I have enjoyed branching out of our comfort zone with attempts at making some buddies...and we have!

First, we have Kathy who owns and manages the apartment building and the boat slips that we live aboard.  She and her husband were the 'Canadian Angels' (see a few blogs back) that allowed us to stay behind their house when the boat slip wasn't quite ready for us.  Kathy is totally down to earth and enjoys spending evenings with her tenants drinking wine and laughing with the rest of us late into the evening.  She called Nate one day in a mini panic and asked him to relay the message onto his wife that Lululemon opened a shop in the outlet malls and that he needed to take me there right away.  I love this woman.  

Next, we have 'Uncle Rick'.  Rick lives right next to us in a sailboat called Sea Wolf that he has travelled around the world in.  He Captains other peoples sailboats around the Caribbean and the Bahamas for work because he says that they're too rich and lazy to learn how to do it themselves.  Uncle Rick lends us his white Nissan Sentra and as well as his millions of burnt movies that he gets from NetFlix.  My favorite thing that Uncle Rick does is when he finishes all of his sentences with the words; 'blah, blah, blah'.  

Then there is Mike and Mary.  Mike and Mary live three boats down from us on a boat called Rough Draft with their little doggy Belle - who for some reason, I kept calling Molly in the first month that I knew them.  To me, it just sounded right, Mike, Mary and Molly; but they just politely smiled and let me misname their dog for weeks without saying anything.  These people are so kind and loving.  Mike (who is a writer) picked me up from the airport after I returned from my visit to Calgary, and Mary (who is a massage therapist) bought Nate a delicious chocolate cupcake from a french bakery on his birthday.  These people are genuine and down to earth.  The type of people that don't really seem to exist anymore.    

We're so happy that we have made some connections and true friends for life.  Even though they are a bit older than us, we feel as though age doesn't seem to be much of an issue around here.  People don't judge you on your job or your last name or your appearance or your bank account amount.  It's very different from Calgary in that sense.  I hope that Nate and I will be able to hold onto that idea when we return home to Canada next year.

Reunited and it feels so goooood...

Patience (according to the Wikipedia encyclopedia) is the state of endurance under difficult circumstances. For me, this concept is a somewhat difficult one to get a grip on. As young children, we are often told to be patient with things like our tempers and our siblings. As we grow older, we try to enforce a bit of patience when waiting on events like a weekend sleepover or Christmas. Then, as young adults, we are told to be patient when confronted with a delay or an annoyance and most of us try terribly hard to instill that calm and reserved feeling until whatever it was that we were being patient for has finally come to fruition. Finally, as grown, responsible, smart adults, we are not only expected to master the art of patience but also to exercise this acquired character trait on a daily basis. As you'll see in the following examples of my conversations with Nate, this is a skill I have yet to conquer. They usually go something like this;

Kate: "So Nate, estimated departure time for the Caribbean is...???" (I'm expecting him to fill in the blank with an exact date, say like November 30th, especially since we've been in Florida for almost two months).
Nate: "Well, we need the fuel tank to arrive so we can motor out of the canal. I ordered it a few weeks ago, but it looks like we'll just have to be patient."

Next conversation - maybe two hours later:

Kate: "So honey, when are we going to be able to exchange some Canadian money so we can go grocery shopping again???" - I'm expecting him to answer the question with an exact time, say 4:30 tonight.
Nate: "Well, the dollar is still super high right now. We would be smart to wait on it for a few days to see where it's at. We'll just have to be patient."

hmmmmm. I'm sensing a trend here. 

Next conversation - like five minutes later:

Kate: "So babe, how many more days until our foam cushions arrive so we can sit?" I'm expecting him to get really mad and call the dude up who has our cushions and just yell at him until he brings the cushions to us right then and there; but of course, my amazing husband replies;
Nate: "Well, the manufacturer said it would be done three days ago, but it appears he's busy. We'll just have to be patient."

So clearly, we are fully aware of which partner in this marriage has the true gift for exuding patience and is currently practicing being patient, which is good, because God knows we'd be a mess if one of us wasn't this way, and just for the record, I feel that I do have a lot of patience...BUT LET'S GO HERE! Come on! I need to write something in the blog so Phillip doesn't think we're idiots and Keith has something to read, and Mom doesn't think we're dead, and we can go home saying that we sailed for a year! Let's go! Let's go! Let's go! COME ON!!!!!!!! But alas. What does the universe, or God, or whatever you want to label it as really give to us? Well, I've been told that we are all given exactly what we need. So, I'm guessing that the universe is giving me the opportunity to sit, and wait, and be patient. Okay. (Grumble). I accept. (Sour face). But in doing so I have to acknowledge and point out and make a really big deal about this and state that I'm officially embracing this and hopefully growing, and being very, very patient. sigh.

View from the boat