A Sail of Two Idiots (53 page)

Jacumba
was probably only about 60 feet away, so I figured I could do it. I would lie on my back, tighten the rope, and then kick wildly, moving the 40-pound kellet across the sea bottom inches at a time. It then occurred to me that splashing attracts sharks, and I got myself all worked up again.

I was determined, though, so I kept at it until I got to the bow of
Jacumba
and tied the kellet rope to the bridle. I climbed back on board and then hoisted the kellet from the seabed while standing on deck.

I let the kellet sit on the trampoline like a trophy until Michael came home and noticed it. To his credit, he gave me a huge smile and a hard high five (ow!). He was so relieved that
he
didn't have to jump in again.

Although happy to be done with this three-hour chore, I would miss our marine buddies (well, not the shark). We were on our umpteenth generation of squid, so the barracuda was still lurking around. In fact, Mr. Barracuda had become so comfortable that he no longer scurried away when he saw us. In fact, he came closer … and closer … Hey! I got the jeebies when he got about a flipper's distance away from me, so I backed away and came aboard. Maybe he was just trying to say good-bye. We were so attached to our little squid friends that once the boat sold, we moved it away from them so the new owner (a fisherman) wouldn't kill them (squid make good bait).

I would not miss the gnats that swarmed us at night and dropped dead in the morning, leaving a mess on the deck. Or the termites and their sacrificed wings. Or the pink Saharan dust and the Montserrat volcano ash. Or all that metal work.

One night we came aboard to find scuff marks and handprints on the sides of the boat. Nothing appeared to be missing, so at least theft wasn't another “last.”

I had been nude on the back of the boat a total of two times during our entire adventure. The first time I was standing in our doorway taking off my shrimp/lice-covered wetsuit and was just getting ready to run inside to grab a towel when I noticed tourists on the road not far away taking pictures. Wave to the tourists and smile for the cameras!

The final time was during our last two weeks. We had just gotten back from a beach in semidarkness (there was still some light on the horizon) and were covered in sticky sand. I yanked off my bathing suit and went at all my … crevices, determined to remove all the sand, and then ran inside to put on my jammies. I hadn't even gotten to the cabin when Michael nervously asked if I was dressed. Um, no. Well, there was a boat coming at us slowly from the shadows, so now might be a good time to throw something on. That done, I came back on deck in time to see the Coast Guard turn their lights on and get ready to board us.

If I had wondered whether they had seen my … show, the fact that they wouldn't look me in the eye pretty much answered that. Had I known I had an audience, I would have been a little less enthusiastic about my … administrations. Erotic it wasn't. Sheesh.

This would be one heck of a payment, and we were going to have a difficult time making it. At the last minute we discovered that we couldn't do a wire transfer of funds from our bank to the escrow agent to pay off the remainder of the loan. Our bank wouldn't transfer more than $10,000 without us being there in person.

Several smaller amounts wouldn't work either. The escrow agent held an account at the same bank, but because I was transferring to a
business
account, it was a no-go. I'd never heard of such a thing. Our mutual fund had its own limitations. A credit card advance was too slow. I ran into snag after snag before I was finally able to get the bank that held the boat loan to do several deductions from our savings account until the loan was covered (for $200 in fees).

A final letter to the Coast Guard and that was it.
Jacumba
was no longer ours. We had just concluded three amazing years sailing our amateur butts up and down the Caribbean, had made some fantastic friends, learned a lot about ourselves and each other, and had found an island to call home—with job and all. Everything had gone as planned, and for less than $50,000 a year we had lived a life we couldn't have imagined. Despite all the whining, we were going to miss that boat.
Jacumba
, we take back every bad thing we ever said about you! Well, most of them.

We enjoyed our last night on the trampoline under the stars; our last night surrounded by nothing but cliffs, listening to the sound of goats bleating; drank our last sundowner on board; ate our last barbecue while enjoying the twinkling lights onshore; and tossed our leftovers over the side one last time. No more nights rocked to sleep by the waves (or woken up by them either).

We packed up the last of our stuff, taking just about everything except the dolphin dishes that had been on board since
Jacumba
's maiden crossing (something blue for the new owners?). And, finally, we took our last dinghy ride to the dock.

Home at last!

I
finished this written account of our
Jacumba
saga a year to the day we closed on the boat, September 30, 2009, and started a new chapter in our lives.

Do we still love St. Kitts? Yes. We like where we live and have made good friends. We still get to see our boater pals as they go up and down the chain between hurricane seasons. It took a while to fit in with the islanders, but not too much time really, considering there's a large Canadian and British population here.

Michael is still with the same developer he started with. In addition to writing this book, I've done bookkeeping for a beach bar owner and started a blog about island living called
www.islandbabble.blogspot.com
. I run in the morning, watching the sun come up over the ocean, and pass monkeys playing in the street on my way back.

We have two new kitties, Jack and Zura.

We have our favorite beach bars and our favorite beaches and have settled into a comfortable routine. We have also gotten off-island to St. Martin and Puerto Rico to go shopping, drive fast while there, and remind ourselves upon our return why we chose St. Kitts (no traffic!).

Sitting on our balcony, sundowners in hand, we watch sailboats float past. Instead of wondering what their lives are like and dreaming of our future afloat, we smile at each other, remembering the days when our roles were reversed. We are excited for them and will forever be fond of our days and nights on
Jacumba
(despite the hardships). Good times.

We have so many fun stories to tell, have a great kinship with other boaters, and had such an amazing experience overall that we have no regrets. Knowing what we know now, we'd still have taken the journey, but we would have done things
much
smarter and would have taken more time off the boat, giving ourselves a break from all the work that came with the lifestyle. Who knows, if we had applied all our lessons and tips, we might still be out there exploring the western Caribbean.

We're happy for now, but we haven't yet cured our wanderlust. Do we have a plan? Maybe the Pacific. Will it be on a boat? Never say never; we have learned our lessons, after all!

S
till wanting to get out there and see what you can do? Well, do it then! No more excuses. Got kids? We've seen people out there with toddling twins. Too young? Too old? There's no such thing. No money? Well, that might be a bit of problem, but we've seen boats not much larger than bathtubs with their captains making rice with the sun's rays. It can be done. It just depends on how badly you want it. Alone? With someone else? Sounds good to me! Male. Female. Whichever, just know your limitations and prepare for them.

What's important to you? Remember, Michael and I weren't sailors and didn't initially want to become sailors. We'd simply sail as long as our cash would allow, visiting all the islands until we found The One, learning what we needed to learn in order to get us where we needed to go. And we did!

There are many ways to be a boater.
You may decide that a motorboat or a trawler is a better idea than a sailboat. Or you may want to be weekend sailors. Or maybe you'll just be seasonal sailors, sticking to the same sailing grounds part of the year while staying “home” the rest. You might become a liveaboard and never leave the dock. You might move on board and travel far and wide, staying in marinas along the way or anchoring out. You might fall in love with one area or go around the world (maybe several times!). You could be out for a year or the rest of your life. You may morph from one type of a boater to another. There are a lot of options, so just take your own pulse and see which option puts your heart in “the zone.”

If you decide after reading this that the life isn't for you, then for the price of this book you just saved yourself a huge hassle and a lot of money. There are many other ways to find satisfaction, so don't despair if you've discovered that cruising isn't quite what you thought it was. Other adventures await you; just keep looking. Just don't settle for an unfulfilling life. Life is too short.

The rest of you crazy people who grinned through the whole book thinking that all these hardships and adventures are right up your alley, start planning your getaway immediately. Whether the final exit from the dock occurs next month or five years from now, you'll be in for one heck of an experience—
that
I can guarantee you!

Sailing is the realization of an adventurous spirit.
And it's a desire to experience different cultures and different ways of life simply because they're out there.
It's about discovery—of a world unseen and your own hidden capabilities (and limitations). Just do it! Don't be afraid to make mistakes or look dumb. Life, and boating, are more forgiving than you think.

Remember, if we could do it, so can you. Fair winds and a following sea, everyone!

A
re you still reading?! Boy, are you a glutton for punishment! Okay then, get ready for some nuggets of Renee wisdom.

Why do people choose this lifestyle?

Because some of us don't know any better! If a woman knew how painful childbirth would be, would she have kids? If she then forgot how painful childbirth was, would she have
more
kids?

Because some of us aren't cut out for the lifestyle of a practical job, two kids, a house, two cars, and a dog. Or we've had those already. We're lucky to be from a first-world country where we're actually bored by those things and need something else to make us feel alive and challenged.