Where do I start?

Lord of the Flies-2 I don’t know where to start. My internet is painfully slow and my laptop is about to die. I just wanted to share with you a couple of photos before I no longer have the opportunity. Since Nassau, the stories I have to tell and photos I have to share are endless. But you are going to have to be patient. It might not be until I return to the states that you can read and see them. Let’s just say the not-so-lovely month it took us to get past Nassau was rectified the moment we arrived at the northern tip of the Exumas. Which I knew would happen, it just took some serious patience to get there.

Life changers: Meeting Nick and Hillary. Peaceful anchorages. Peculiar wildlife. Secluded islands. Warm Budweiser that tastes phenomenal just because of your surroundings. Phosphorescence created by movement on a dark night. Stars bright enough to keep you awake. Salty cool-aid colored water to bathe in, keeping you cool in the hot afternoon sun. Taking the girls out and tanning that baby skin while sailing alone. Iguanas that want to eat you. Nurse sharks that want to play with you. Secret places you feel like the only person to ever set foot on. What else do I need to say?

I have so much I want to type, and so much venting to do. Good and bad. But now I am only at six percent battery life. I am just going to have to wait. And so are you. Summary – We are doing very well. Somedays better than others. But in the big picture, there is no where else on this planet I would rather be. Which is funny, because not that long ago I’m pretty sure I wanted to be anywhere but on Louise. Anywhere but stuck on a wet boat. Anywhere safe, dry, and comfortable. Things change. I promise I’m not bi-polar.

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NASSAU

Awful weather kept us anxiously waiting in the spectacular city of Nassau. If any of you have been to Nassau (not on a cruise ship or to Atlantis) you understand my sarcasm while using the word “spectacular.” Nassau is like Detroit with Palm trees. Compton with crystal clear water. Third world country, crime ridden, trashed with plastic yet encompassed by slivers of beauty. If you ask me, the place doesn’t make any sense. In other words, the worst island on the planet for two 24 year old chicks to be pinned.

This time, it was not a mechanical issue forcing us to sit in one place for another 7 days. It was the wind and rain. An entire week calling for 25 knots out of the east, and %100 chance of thunderstorms. Yay.  Who would have thunk that the weather man would be right? You know what one would also assume? That boats are waterproof. Well, they aren’t. It rained, and rained, and rained some more. It came down so constant and relentless. After several days I was convinced the entire island of New Provence would detach itself from the earth and become adrift…by morning we would wake up next door to Africa or something. But every day, despite the fierce rain we seemed to maintain the same location on planet earth.

Water came in from every window. Every crack. I swear we could have been a roofless vessel and it wouldn’t have changed a thing. Wet toilet paper. Soggy bread. Rusty razor. Moist sheets. Damp clothes. Stale air. Barely a dry towel to to wipe down with before getting into bed at night. Our bathroom turned into a bathtub – stepping into a puddle of water when waking up. Living room turned into a sauna. Dry storage turned to wet storage. Louise, how are you still even floating? Mom, I want a hotel. Dad, you are a crazy man for sending me here. Katie and Reggie, I love you both very much but right now… you are two very wet bodies that are always in my way.

We had been warned more than once not to go walking around Nassau. Always lock everything up, carry pepper spray, don’t go anywhere at night, stay in a marina, anchoring is not safe. We did all of those things, leaving us with very little entertainment. Annoyed at the fact we just dropped 2000 dollars on a new transmission, paying 56 dollars a night to stay in a marina did not help lighten the mood. I think Katie read like 8 books in a week. I spent endless hours at Starbucks, drinking too much coffee, sitting in the internet trying to stay dry. One day, we went crazy and ran the stairs of the motel at Nassau Harbor Club. We ran in circles, swam laps in the pool with our snorkels, burnt off energy that had been building for days. Wow it felt good.

Earlier in the week, while pulling into Nassau, a beautiful Bristol 32 was following shortly behind us. A young couple, who looked to be our age sat in the cockpit. We caught one another with binoculars, checking out each others crew. Instant Friends. After pulling into the same marina, we were promptly communicating and learning each others story. Nick and Hillary, aboard their boat “Tara” are an exceptionally attractive couple, with personalities, budgets, and plans, nearly identical to our own. If it weren’t for Nick and Hill, docked next to us during this not-so-lovely week, experiencing the same things, if it weren’t for them whining and then cracking up with us, our time in Nassau might not have been as feasible. They kept us sane. They kept us laughing. Nick and Hill were our new travel buddies. If it weren’t for this god forsaken weather, we might not have have ever connected with them.

All of my recent entries, being pessemistic and possibly cynical, are written with intentions for soon to be enchanting and unreal stories. The stories you would expect to hear from me, or anyone sailing the Bahamas for that matter. Swimming with the sharks, catching a marlin, snorking sunken ships n’  stuff. They just haven’t happened in a while. Knowing that they will in time, I am almost having more fun sharing with you our moments of doubt. Don’t fret, in no time you will be bored again reading stories of bliss.

Engines don’t belong in living rooms.

Engines don’t belong in living rooms. Yes, we treat this space in our boat just as anyone treats this room in their home. And let me tell you, diesel engines look rather out of place in this area. We spent a 10 hour day in small, incredibly awkward spaces with the local mechanic, Carvel. The hot, sweaty, basement of Louise, allows for little room to turn  wrenches and make any progress. It took some time to figure out how this transmission replacement was going to go down. The day before while chatting with my dad he said “The engine is going to have to come out.” I was slow to respond because in my mind I was thinking “Oh hell no it’s not.” Don’t you need like an entire fleet of engineers, mechanics, pulleys, and cranes to do something that outrageous?

You were right, Dad. The entire engine came out of its compartment where it once looked so lovely. Carvel, contacted his brother Avery who was in town for pleasure. Poor guy got his ass put to work in a sweat box full of noseums for an entire day. These guys did an amazing job. By dinner time Louise had a brand new transmission. It took some adjusting, and aligning for everything to work together again. Carvel knew we were on a strict budget, and kindly asked from us only what we could afford. I will never forget him for that. Job complete. So we thought.

The next morning by 8am, we are ready to throw off the dock lines and head for Nassau. We’ve spent two and half weeks on this island. You can imagine we were ready to move onwards. Last minute, both of us realize there is zero water coming out of the exhaust. Not a drip. Uh oh, that is not good. Engine off. Carvel came back that morning to inspect. He ended up having to take off the entire exhaust manifold, and re-seal/re-attach it to the engine. The water had all been spraying inside the basement, instead of making it to the backyard – due to the manifold not properly being hooked back up. And after one more mini-disaster, all was well.

Since arriving in Nassau, life has been the least bit charming. A lot has happened since we have been here. Too much for me to explain now. Let’s just say our limits have been tested. Sanity weakening. Bank accounts draining. Comfort and safety shrinking. But in an odd way, our friendship becoming stronger, which I didn’t know was possible. Sometimes what you sign up for is not what you expect. But even when it’s not what I expected, what we have been rewarded with is far more outstanding than I could imagine. Just gotta wait for it.

Stuck on a rock

The transmission has arrived. The mechanic is now missing. Turns out he has gone to Nassau and will return in three days. Okay. Three more days? What’s three more days in the grand scheme of things? By the time we leave Chub Cay we will have spent two weeks here, if not more. Only 75 miles from the our first island anchorage, our exploration of these lands has barely be begun.

As the days go by I have noticed things I never in my life noticed before. Surrounded with 360 degrees of bliss, the things that I am focused on and aware of are not what one would expect. With nothing but time, I have been given this opportunity to sit and think more than ever before. To dwell. To ponder. To question. To read. To write. To make music. To exercise. To eat. To drink. To literally sit in one place for hours as my mind races around particular subjects and people. Recurring thoughts and unanswered questions. An abundance of ideas, and plethora of possible plans. All together they consume my time, and by the time I leave here I just may have learned some things about myself.

I want to sell the boat and ride horses to Montana. Maybe I could start a bed and breakfast. How about having a tiny art studio and being a starving painter for the rest of my life. I could use that helicopter license I worked so hard for. Maybe someone would pay me to travel, photograph, and document adventures that few humans choose. But what about the farm? I want a farm. And a coffee shop. I love coffee. I love Louise. Our home which has the potential to take us around the world. Why would I turn back? Who is going to put up with me for the rest of my life? No one will ever be able to keep up. Why has anyone put up with me for this long? How the hell did I get here? What’s going to happen when this journey ends? Will I be broke forever? Does it matter? Do people think we are stupid? Naive? Or brave, and brilliant? How have the choices I have made, led me to become stranded on a tiny Bahamian island? How am I ever going to find an appreciation for life that compares to my current whereabouts? How am I going to re-pay those who have helped us? The rest of our lives will be dedicated to paying-forward to others what has been given to us. I crave a house. I crave comfort. I crave mountains. Safety. While at the exact same time I love nothing more than solitude. Open water. Leaving on a whim. Excited by the unknown. Terrified of being stuck. New people. New places. Constant change of scenery. No one to report to but myself.

I’ve paid attention to what goes in my body, and what comes out. What it looks like when It goes in, and what it looks like when it comes out. How I feel when I eat fish versus chicken. How I feel when I don’t.  How I feel the moment I wake up, and the moment I lay down to sleep at night. Sometimes my body gets rest but my brain doesn’t. Other times it’s the opposite. Katie and I often do activities together but separate. We will go for a walk, or a run. Sometimes 100 feet apart from one another, without speaking. Not because we are fed up with one another, but because it’s nice to be alone, just not completely alone. We spend the whole day apart. Quietly entertaining ourselves. Come six o’clock, we get bored and need each others company. The days silence turns to hours of girl talk.

Maybe I am crazy. Maybe I have just been delayed on an island for one too many days. Or maybe I am completely normal. Life is funny. Life is weird. I do know one thing. If Katie and Reggie were not here to experience this all with me, that would possibly be my first regret in life. As much as I love being on my own, I can’t fathom not being able to reminisce these days with someone when I am 75. Then again, my lifespan will most likely not allow for 75 years if I keep living this crazy life.

Trannys and Bugs

quarterchub-3A new transmission will be sent to this island on Wednesday.  To say the least, it is quite challenging to get anything shipped here to Chub Cay. We were informed of a tiny airline called Watermaker’s which flies around the islands shipping cargo and people where no other airline lands. Although Nassau is only 35 miles east of us,  we fell in love with this charming island and everyone/thing it contains.

Aside from  the fact that I know tomorrow we should be receiving a transmission, my sense of time has become unbelievably distorted. I think we have been here for a week. No longer do I pay any mind to the time of day, let alone the day of the week. It is very odd how my sense for time has dissipated. I often have to think twice about what month and season we are in. Where the sun is in the sky, indicates our activities on a daily basis.

The one thing the position of the sun does not indicate, is when the bugs come out to play. The bugs seems to be on the same schedule as Katie and I are. Whether we are off the boat, or have any skin exposed (which is all of the time) the noseum’s are chowing down on our salty skin. Never in my life have I experienced bug bites like I have in the last week. Noseums are itsy bitsy piles of garbage you can hardly see. You can feel them bite, and it hurts. You swat them away but never get them because you can’t even see them.  They fit through all of our screening, and don’t just come out after the sun goes down. It’s all day. Everyday.  Many sleepless nights over these creatures. Often they turn a fabulous day into a horror movie. Louise becomes a stagnant, stale, sweat box, containing killer noseums that you can’t get away from. Those of you who know me, are aware of how much I bite my nails. I hardly have a nail to prove that one even exists, and still have been capable of making myself bleed from the itching. New goal. Grow out a nail, maybe even 10.

Not much to do on this Island. After getting to know the dock master “Tito” we are comfortably tied up to the fuel dock until we get fixed. Without saying the exact words… Tito suggested under his breath we can stay tied up in the marina and he will not charge us. Every day, at the end of Tito’s shift I bring him whiskey. After several days, we know everybody, and everybody knows us. Maybe 50 Bahamians total live on this island. Yesterday, the sheriff (Officer Ferguson who is the spitting image of Samuel L. Jackson) slowed his vehicle to inform me that walking around with an open beer is an offense, and proceeded to ask Katie and me If we wanted to go to the bar with him and his friends that night.

Most days we try to stay in the water as long as possible. The heat and the bugs prevent any other activity. By night time, we always seem to find ourselves a fresh fish dinner. This island is known for it’s world renown fishing. Some wealthy and daring fisherman have been kind enough to take us out for day trips and show us “how it’s done”. These guys bring back way too much fish for a single boat and crew. That’s where Katie and I come into play.  Mahi, wahoo, grouper, snapper, you name it. It has been in our bellies every day. We have been spoiled with fresh meals and good company during out time here, making us feel like queens. The heat and bugs, on the other hand, make us feel like peasants.  quarterchub-5 quarterchub-6 quarterchub-7 quarterchub-8 quarterchub-9 quarterchub-10 quarterchub-11 quarterchub-12 quarterchub-13 quarterchub-14 quarterchub-15 quarterchub-16 quarterchub-17 quarterchub-18 quarterchub-19 quarterchub-20 quarterchub-21  quarterchub-23 quarterchub-24 quarterchub-25 quarterchub-26 quarterchub-27 quarterchub-28 quarterchub-29 quarterchub-30 quarterchub-31   quarterchub-34

We had the feeling… and we were right.

dirt

For every good story there is a bad. For every amazing day, there follows an equally  frustrating day. One night is a fresh fish dinner, and the next is a cold can of tuna. That’s just how it works. After a week of bliss, both of our psychic senses kicked in. Things were all too perfect and it was time for something to go wrong.

It requires an overnight passage to get 75-ish miles from Cat Cay to Chub Cay, which was our next destination. Since we have now done several overnight crossings, we left Cat Cay at 4pm with confidence, planning to arrive at Chub by 9am the next morning. The majority of the crossing is known as “The Banks” which is an enormous flat providing no more than 10 feet of water beneath you. Shallow water has its perks, enabling us to anchor anywhere we wanted at 3 in the morning to get an hour of rest. Shallow water is also terrifying. In the pitch black of night with no moon, all you can do is hope that there is nothing that lays in your path to put a hole in your boat.

By 8am we had crossed “the banks” and entered “the tongue of the ocean”. This is where the water drops from 10 ft, to 6000ft. The sunrise was stunning. The insanely deep blue water rather intimidating. We were successfully motor sailing until suddenly our motor became useless. While in forward, at a certain rpm, Louise was no longer being propelled forward at her normal rate of speed. Two knots? Maybe. Anything faster than that was a no-go. Hmmm….

Light wind. Little current. At this point we’re not sailing anymore because we are trying to figure out engine issues. Louise refuses to push more than a knot and a half. Give Louise throttle, and she revs up leaving us motionless. Okay girls, think. Think, think, think. Yes, we have sails, and yes we can use them. Not confident enough to enter an unknown channel, and anchor under sail. Must. Solve. Engine. Problem. We should probably contact the coast guard, right? Hah.

Together we went through the checklist of what we knew how to check ourselves. At that point it didn’t matter if what we were checking had any correlation with the problem, we just did what we could. I tied a bowline around my waist, got in the water to check the prop after shutting off the engine. Nothing was tangled in it. Turned the engine on, cautiously decided to get back in water and check prop again. The propeller and shaft spins in forward, spins in reverse, speeding up and slowing down depending on position of throttle as necessary.

Moving on. Checked reverse which seemed to work just fine. Checked the shift cable. Checked the throttle cable. Checked the oil, transmission fluid, impeller, strainer, leaky freeze plug, while eyeballing every inch for a possible answer. Great. This is the moment, where Katie and Jessie had to become real sailors. I don’t know about you, but to us, this was somewhat terrifying. We had 8 miles to go, and very little wind coming out of the wrong direction. Could be worse, could have been blowing 30 knots and we really would have been screwed. Everything will be okay.

Four hours of tacking and bobbing around at 2 knots we got close to the channel entering Chub Cay. This entire time there were sport fishing boats surrounding us in all directions. Perfect, we can get one of them to tow us into the marina or something. Over the VHF I hailed all boats nearby Chub Cay channel again and again. Not one human responded. This was frustrating. What if it were a real emergency, and not a soul listening. Bummer.

We were on our own. For story telling purposes I wish I could say that getting to the anchorage and dropping trow under sail was a complete disaster. But we actually did just fine. I think I scared Katie after not smiling or talking for hours. I was frustrated. The frustration came from exhaustion, the fact that this happened at the tail end of an overnight crossing. Lack of sleep, lack of wind, lack of any boat responding to our call, lack of mechanic knowlege, and lack of land for Reggie to go pee.  I finally cracked a smile after we successfully got to a safe place. Smiles turned into laughter after later learning we were going to have to replace our transmission. Awesome.

Most of you reading might be laughing as well, because this is what sailing is all about. Duh. You sail every moment you can. Your engine is there to assist you in docking, anchoring, and in currents. For Katie and me, this concept is backwards. Our comfort is motoring or motor-sailing. The sails are just there in case the wind is perfect. We grew to have so much faith in our engine, and little confidence in our sailing abilities. There is a first time for everything my friends. This was our first time the engine was unavailable. We made it happen. I think this means we are real sailors now, right?

Okay time to make some friends. We are delayed here until we get our transmission replaced. Whether it is a new one, or a rebuild, I do not know yet. We have to find a mechanic. Thank god we are well stocked with provisions. There is only one tiny market on this island that offers the bare minimum. Cherrios are $7.00. But trust me, there are worse places to be stuck. Although this fix will be detrimental to our bank accounts, it is hard to be upset while surrounded with such beauty. The cost of fixing our transmission probably doesn’t compare to what the average human spends to vacation here.

Katie and Jessie try to live off the land

Since day one arriving in the Islands we have learned alot. Most importantly the things we will forever appreciate, things that before may have gone un-noticed. We “planned” to stay only one night at Bimini Sands Marina. Well, you know how those plans go – they don’t. Filled with happiness and excitement 1 night turned into 3. Thirty dollars turned into ninety. But it didn’t matter. These islands are here for our exploration, with nothing but time and only funds to turn us back. Needless to say we took our sweet time soaking up the facilities the marina had to offer.

Let’s start with the Bahamian people. They are truly something. Welcoming us spoiled Americans with open arms and smiles. Each individual waves and smiles and makes you feel as if you deserve to be there. While walking around Alice town, North Bimini, even the middle school kids waved as you walked passed ” Hi there! How are you today?” After leaving Coconut Grove, Miami, I was pleased to receive a returning smile. Coconut Grove felt similar to Los Angeles. No one really gives a rats ass who you are or why you are there. While walking in the park at Coconut Grove I went out of my way to smile at every human I walked past, just to see if they would smile in return. Nope. Not even fifty percent. Ahh, it is so refreshingly different here. Thank you Bahamians for the love.

After 4 days in Bimini we finally made a move. Just south of Bimini is a strand of tiny islands, one being Cat Cay, where we are currently anchored. My surroundings are hard to put into words. If you could just see it with your own eyes. But you can’t. We are anchored right next to a tiny airstrip on a private island that we are technically not supposed to be on. Louise sits in a dark blue hole with plenty of water underneath her keel. Not even 75 feet in all directions is a sand bank that shows itself only while the tide is low.

While the tide is low, you can walk 1/2 a mile to the island just south of here that is completely uninhabited. The 4 of us (our greatest boating friends Bob and Madeline of “Betty L” whom we met back in Illinois) spent the day gathering conch. The first one I saw I was terrified to pick up because I swear to god it had massive woman eating claws. At least in my mind it did. Sure enough you can pick them right up and they suction themselves into their shell and hide. Reggie did a fine job of gathering conch himself. After he got a good look at what it was we were gathering, he dug up several conchs that put all of ours to shame. With sinking kayaks due to conch overfill, we went back to our boats which were rafted together, to begin the never ending “battle of the conch”

We had recently heard that if you hang them on a string, they eventually get too exhausted to stay suctioned to their shell, and muscle begins to give out. The most common way is to hammer a hole in the top of the shell, another way to destroy its suction. We hung them all from strings until it looked like Christmas. Wow, are they stubborn. They are slimy, and smelly, and secrete disturbing juices while trying to rip them free of their home. We had spaghetti for dinner instead. Next time I eat conch chowder, I will appreciate every bite knowing that 4 of us could not even get the damn meat out of one of them.

Today Katie and I explored alone until the sun no longer allowed us. We decided to dedicate the day to gathering all items vegetarian. I carried the hawaiian sling by my side – just to feel cool because I barely know how to use it. Eventually Katie, Reg, and I paddled on our single person kayak to some rocks far, far, far from land. We had been informed that these reefs are some of the most spectacular dive sites in all of the islands. It was kind of freaky. There is something comforting about having other people around, or a man maybe? Just the three of us, paddling out to sea in the tiny kayak. I swam for quite a ways, and could not help but dwell on the fact I had become shark bait, and was trolling myself behind the kayak. I imagined my body like the tuna we caught after it’s tail had been ripped off.

The reef we paddled to was well worth it. No need to explain it’s beauty, for once again – my description will give no justice. On the way home we gathered one too many coconuts with plans to crack em open for their goods. Have you ever tried to climb a coconut tree? Well, it hurts and I do not recommend it. Have you ever tried to open a coconut and get to the milk? If you do not have power tools, it hurts and I do not recommend it. Haha Katie and I spent the evening in the cockpit trying to open the freakin coconuts. Holding the coconuts in-between our feet like monkeys, using a machete, hammer and pry bar. We looked absolutely ridiculous. Eventually we got to taste what we worked for. Anything containing coconut will forever be appreciated by these gals. We later learned that it is the ripe green ones that are easily opened, not the brown dead ones on the ground which are a joke attempting to open. Lesson learned.

Katie gathered shells to make jewelry, I gathered leaves to make bikinis? No rush to attempt our next projects knowing that the ones we’ve tried so far are nearly impossible. For now I will enjoy this very moment and this dark blue hole upon which Louise is anchored. The cockpit looks as if it’s lived through a hurricane after our coconut party. My hair is close to dread locks if I neglect to brush it any longer. The hair on my arms is so sun bleached I look like an old man. The salt water has dried my skin to a point of no return. Not to mention every square inch of my body contains a bug bite. At this point I have more bug bites than freckles. And I have a lot of freckles. It’s only been one week. I am exhausted. Today, the sun won. Finally it has set behind this little island of palm trees. Nothing good happens after sunset. Bedtime.

Alicetown

alicetown-2Meet Ashley Saunders. A local to the island of Bimini, and a man of many talents. Stone mason by trade, environmentalist and artist by nature. This man created something extraordinary out of items collected from the beach in his back yard. A piece of art that also happens to be a home, strong enough to withstand over 10 hurricanes. His home “The Dolphin House” has been a lifelong project that will keep him busy for the rest of time. He gives tours to visitors who stumble upon the beaten path it has been built on. For a small fee of 2 dollars, we got the full museum tour. Ashley was a natural model, and patiently looked into the eye of my camera. He seemed to know exactly what I was trying to capture – the stories you can unravel purely from his face.alicetown

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alicetown-17 alicetown-24 This is Ashley Saunders brother, Ansil. Ansil lives on the other side of the island and builds wooden boats. We spent an hour learning about his life and passion to preach. He holds the world record for catching the biggest bone-fish, and seems to plays a significant role on the Island of North Bimini.alicetown-23 alicetown-22 alicetown-21 alicetown-20 alicetown-19 alicetown-18

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TUNA TUNA TUNA

crossing over-2 Leaving Coconut Grove, headed over to “No Name Harbor” which is an infamous anchorage for waiting out weather to cross to the Bahamas. crossing over-3 Mom, I gotta pee crossing over-4  crossing over-5 crossing over-6 crossing over-7 No Name anchorage. Two of these sailboats left at 3am to cross to Bimini, we left at 5:30am, and another left at 7. So all though we left alone, there were other sailors in existence. crossing over-8 crossing over-9 Raising the quarantine flag. For those of you who are unfamiliar, this yellow flag signifies you have yet to check-in to the country, and still have to go through customs. Once you are cleared through, you then raise a Bahamas courtesy flag.crossing over-10 crossing over-11 and all of the sudden the trolling rod was horizontal and we had something on the hookcrossing over-12 Black fun tuna!!!!crossing over-13 A shark or something like it – bit off it’s tail while we were reeling it in. This was great, because with out a tail it barely put up a fight, bleed itself out, making the process much more pleasant.crossing over-14 Thank you Katie for spending your money on all this fishing stuff…crossing over-15 crossing over-16 Clavo, aboard a boat we traveled closely to Bimini with, helped us clean up the tuna. He was very excited the girls brought supper and was happy to show us how to cook this thing up. crossing over-17 All the tuna scraps were fed to a family of nurse sharks. crossing over-18 crossing over-19 crossing over-20 crossing over-21 crossing over-22 crossing over-23 Reggie was freaking out as the sharks were swimming in circles around the tuna scraps, he was very close to jumping in the water with them.crossing over-24 Okay I have been told that out of respect for the fish, you eat it’s eyeball? Something I have done in the past, but it was a very small eyeball. At this moment I was so happy that I volunteered myself to do so. After cutting it’s eyeball out, the juices were overflowing, and it  it’s size was that of a cow. I couldn’t do it.crossing over-25 crossing over-26 crossing over-27 crossing over-28 Meet Isabelle. Pretty kitty aboard “Fille De Joi” friends we made who are cruising to the B.V.I’scrossing over-29 crossing over-30 crossing over-31 Bohemian courtesy flag.crossing over-32 Bimini Sands Marinacrossing over-33 crossing over-34 crossing over-35 crossing over-36