Kalunamoo

Three Months Ashore

“It is not rocket science to get on a boat and sail somewhere,” Singh said. “It’s a choice not to connect.” Simon Singh, professor, University of Waterloo in Ontario.

Singh was not writing about ocean cruisers, although he might have. He was referring to the “uncontacted’ indigenous groups worldwide, estimated at less than 200 that remain in isolated communities. They live mostly in South America, Asia, and the Pacific, predominately in Brazil, but also in Indonesia and India. Many of these groups may only include a few dozen people.

By and large it is their choice to live unconnected, “off the grid”, and insular. In many ways, local governments defend them although modernity is the ever-present encroaching storm. They should not be considered “stuck in pre-history” but living in a history they desire.

Professor Singh is also a major contributor to the documentary, Metabolism of Islands. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C7nxYB69veY, a related subject.

Metabolism can be defined as the process of life. In the case of small islands, it revolves around the input of resources, demand of the resources, and the output of resources. Again, he was not referring to cruisers and their wanderlust but the actual survival strategies of small island populations and the challenges they face.

Both of these thoughts: the choice not to connect and the challenges of life on a boat, may resonate with many liveaboard cruisers. It certainly has in our case.

**SSCA Members meeting in Pt. Washington**

In the cruising community, the choice not to connect seems paradoxical. I have often said, and wrote, that cruising is a very social endeavor. Indeed, a casual perusal of publications uncover numerous organizations, associations, publications, businesses, and government agencies dedicated to supporting the cruising community writ large. Even lone solo sailors are no exception. Not to be confused with the Solo Class Association, lone solo sailors are socially connected. Organizations starting with Joshua Slocum in 1898 which lead to the International Joshua Slocum Society in 1955-2011 or the aroundtheworldalone.com site listing 527 solo sailors or the Global Solo Challenge and other organizations dedicate to solo sailing, cannot be viewed as supporting sailors electing to be un-connected. Of course, there is also the Golden Globe Race that will start in September if you want to join the club of solo, non-stop, around-the-world sailors in a competitive race. They will only be connected via text messaging with no GPS or other electronic navigation equipment while on their voyage.

To paraphrase Groucho Marx, “I don’t’ want to sail in any organization that organizers sailors”. By definition, we would never hear or learn of off-the-grid sailors, solo or not, because they are off the grid. They wouldn’t appear in publications, blogs, videos or any notoriety. There are no membership dues or board of directors or by-laws. And yet, I think they are out there. Somewhere. Perhaps visiting the Sentinelese in the Bay of Bengal at this very moment, or on a sailboat anchored next to us.

Of course, being “connected” today is much more elaborate than just waving at or meeting friends. Who doesn’t use the internet? Are you the person I’m talking to or an ultra-processed missive? How much does AI know about you? Are any of your boat systems internet connected? Are you on AIS? Can you monitor your boat from shore? All I can say is that connections are like the tentacles of an octopus. Is it a tool or an alternate personality? Flock is on land and AIS is on the water. Apps, Agents and Starlink may be our Eye of Sauron, ever watchful. Sailing organizations know exactly where their members are at all times. Have you heard of water utilities that experienced the downside of being too connected?

Metabolism of Sailing is another aspect that cruisers confront. The input of resources: the vessel, crew, fuel, supplies and provisions; the demand of those resources: seaworthiness, companionship, energy generation, food, and repair capabilities; the output: transportation, waste material, and ethereal experiences. Singh’s documentary outlines how the local population of small islands must “live” within the dictates that metabolism. Living on a boat forces the crew to also live within dictates. But “No man is an island conveys” the idea that outside inputs are required. Energy, food, and other physical resources are needed from the outside. On islands, locals and tourists require or demand the use of those resources. The output results in physical waste generation, environmental impacts and cultural shifts. Cruisers are part of that metabolism and impact each aspect. We can see that clearly every day in the East Caribbean Islands.

Maureen and I have been in New York for almost three months as Kalunamoo sits out the hurricane season in Trinidad. We witnessed our grandson’s wedding, revisited family, friends and doctors, drove to the lakes and peaks of the Adirondacks and to the shores of Annapolis, fished the waters off Long Island, marveled at the travels of Odysseus on the big screen, enjoyed seeing Come From Away on stage and ate genuine NY pizza, bagels and Chesapeake blue crabs. Totally connected in the metabolism of life on land.

And yet the pull to disconnect and construct a different metabolism of life ashore prevails. Not totally, not completely, but just enough. We are part of a few sailing organizations, have ad-hoc sundowners with cruisers we meet in the anchorages, and be internet and socially connected. I’m always on the lookout for those musically inclined to make some happy noise together. I believe most sailing cruisers feel the same way. Each with their own definition of “enough”. We look forward to meeting new cruisers and locals even if we are sailing in familiar waters. We’ll return to Kalunamoo in September to disconnect from some of the potholes of metabolism on land while readopting the metabolism of life afloat. Three months ashore didn’t diminish that pull. It’s not rocket science, but it maybe as mysterious as the theory of gravity.

1976 – 2026

It’s been 50 years since this country celebrated its 200^th birthday. That mostly covers Maureen and my “adult” period. Yes, by 1976 we were already married and had two young daughters (eventually 3), but it was only two years after I decided to stop sailing in the merchant marine and started a “real” life ashore. In 1976 the country was embarking on its 3^rd century, and we were tasked with generating and guiding a generation that would come of age in the 21^st century. No pressure there!

If you recall, 1976 was the first time women were admitted to the Army’s West Point Academy and the Navy’s Academy in Annapolis, Son of Sam was on a rampage, the movie Rocky opened, Mao died, Viking I lands on Mars, and we watched a guy named Mr. Cotter return to a Brooklyn HS on TV. It was also the year of Op-Sail ‘76 when the Tall Ships came into New York Harbor.

We celebrated that 4^th of July 200^th birthday looking out from the 12^th floor of 39 Broadway in lower Manhattan with my parents and brother. I worked there during the week for a ship agency company representing Mexican and Spanish merchant ships. Tall Ships from around the world, along with naval vessels and pleasure vessels, filled New York harbor and paraded up the Hudson that day. The office had a great view of the river while the streets of lower Manhattan were jammed with people celebrating this very patriotic day. Later that day we walked over to South Street where some of the Tall Ships would be docked for a week. It was a day to remember where the future held promises that we hoped to fulfill. We all took the subway back to Brooklyn before nightfall and watched the fireworks on TV to complete the 200^thcelebration.

**Tall Ships at South Street Manhattan**

It was six years after, 1982, that we bought our first sailboat which we christened PAPUA. That Catalina 22 was a luxury accommodation compared to the 8×10 Coleman tent Maureen, I and our three daughters slept in during our two weeks summer vacations. With that boat we sailed the high seas of lower New York Harbor over to Atlantic Highlands behind Sandy Hook. On board over the weekends in Horseshoe Cove introduced us to sleeping on board. Other times, my mom, dad and brother were frequent crew on our weekend day sails. Dad always had a pole out, either at anchor or trolling. We usually had fresh fish that night!

That started us down the long path of sailing and purchasing a few upgrades of sailboats. In 1987 we bought a 32’ Pearson we named AUDACIA. Sailing further afield to Block Island we could stay on board for a week or two.

In 1998 an Endeavor 37 named VOYAGER was purchased which took us to Nantucket and Cape Cod. We found cruising was more enjoyable than just day sailing or club racing. It demonstrated what cruising was all about. We joined the Seven Seas Cruising Association to meet cruisers on a one-on-one basis, like Lin Pardey, in many of their meetings in Annapolis. In 2005 when retirement was in view on the horizon, we bought a Vagabond 47 and named it KALUNAMOO. Sailing to the Chesapeake and living aboard all summer in New York was becoming a lifestyle. We made plans to liveaboard and cruise full time and sail without limit ‘till who knows when. That was 21 years ago, and we still don’t know ‘till who knows when, although limits become apparent as time, and age, goes on.

The tall ships are back this year for the 250^th birthday party in New York. They were also here a few times after 1976 and when they were, we sailed among them in New York harbor. That was always fun as most anchored behind Sandy Hook before sailing up the Hudson. One year there was a dense fog as they proceeded up from the Hook. They certainly looked like ghost ships materializing out of thin air.

We are now full-time cruisers and liveaboards. Kalunamoo is currently on the hard in Trinidad to hide out from hurricanes for the summer. We are in New York with family and friends, and we’ll catch sight of the Tall Ships electronically this year.

Our daughters have families and children of their own and they now have the task of guiding them to their own hopes and dreams. They are all well on their way. The second oldest grandson is getting married this summer and our oldest daughter is approaching her early retirement! Fifty years flies by almost as quickly as a summer squall.

Compared to the thousands of years of recorded human history, not to mention the tens of thousands of years of unrecorded history, fifty is not so much. But it is the only history that we have lived and so it is, obviously, personal. Tall ships and boats seem like an odd way of celebrating markers of time unless you think that we are all on a voyage. A voyage that is powered only by the winds of change. They are the only man-made vessels that rely on nature to take us to places far from home.

For thousands of years vessels were constructed in all sorts of shapes and sizes to take advantage of these winds of change and for the conditions to be encountered. I think there is a lesson in that. Societies have the capability to change and to propel us to destinations, goals and dreams that the next generation can use to launch their own voyages. Two hundred and fifty years ago a society was constructed with different ideas of that time to address the conditions, circumstances and the desired goals. Certainly not perfect or without fault, it must continue in that quest, adjusting its sails, admitting its faults, fixing the damages incurred, avoiding storms and reefs of peril, and safely delivering all its crew to the desired destination. We are the crew of this Tall Ship, not just passengers. Each has a responsibility to keep it afloat and sailing.

In that sense, Tall Ships are indeed a good metaphor of life, at least until rockets can take us to Mars 50 years from now. Although I doubt that a young family just starting out on their own journey could buy and launch a secondhand spaceship to accomplish that. A small boat, on the other hand, may be all that is required. Maybe those Tall Ships will inspire the next generation to take a journey to who knows where.

A Fish Out of Water

Kalunamoo was hauled out of Chaguaramas Bay, Trinidad four days ago. We elected to sail from Prickly Bay, Grenada, a week earlier than planned as the weather looked right and we could use the extra time at Power Boats Boat Yard for boat work.

That completed voyage 16. We’ll spend a few weeks here setting up some boat work with Ali, the primary vendor for most of the work. Refinishing the cockpit enclosure, some new woodwork for storage under the floorboards, hull cosmetic work and applying anti-fouling to the bottom will be his major work. Raymond will address a dripping hydraulic steering pump, and loose engine control cables. Sean will do some canvas repair, Johnathan will service the outboard, and I will do some plumbing work to enable our refrigeration to work while on the hard. The reefer unit uses a water cooling system which is no problem when afloat, but impossible while on the hard. I will plumb it to use sea water when floating and circulate the on-board fresh water when hauled. It will be like keeping fish alive while they are not in a tank of water.

And that brings me to the main topic: fish out of water. That common expression is popularly quoted when the surroundings don’t match the expected or required conditions of life. A condition that is so dire it may be considered an existential threat. Fish cannot survive long without swimming in a watery environment.

Of course that is from the viewpoint of the environment. The fish didn’t change at all, it was the environment that changed. But it is assumed that it is the fish’s dilemma and not the environment. Kalunamoo looks like a fish out of water when “on the hard”. It is not her fault or dilemma. But what of her crew?

Maureen and I, will fly back to New York for our two month plus summer visit with family and friends. Doctors will always be in the mix as we have reached that age when they become like good friends that must be visited and talked with at least once a year. Do we become like fish out of the water?

In a literal sense, just about! As mentioned above our refrigeration is designed to “breath” the water, much like a fish, to function. Cold storage, not to mention the ice needed for rum drinks, could be an existential issue for us. Kalunamoo itself needs support to stay upright while on the hard (with jack stands). Mobility is obviously impossible. Yet, we do live aboard even when on the hard. But what of us? Daily “swim calls” which are functionary daily bathing’s, are de rigueur. Granted, land based bathrooms serve a similar, if not an exact duplication, of this ritual. Many other daily routines are, likewise, similar and so don’t pose an existential threat to survival. In a larger sense, however, it does seem that living off the boat is living like a fish out of the water.

When we were in Grenada, we visited the underwater sculpture park at Moliniere Point. Cruising friends Muna and Fred suggested a tour via on an old wooden sailboat out of Port St. Louie. LOL, why not go on a sailboat tour? It is possible to sail there ourselves, as we have passed the area several times, but having a guided tour is usually much more interesting. It also came with lunch and rum. And so, we went. After about an hour sail, the boat moored off Moliniere Point. The sculptures are in about 25 feet of water and scattered about the sea floor among coral ledges and breaks. They would be difficult to find without a guide. The only way to see them is either by snorkeling or with scuba gear.

At first Maureen was a little hesitant to snorkel as she hasn’t snorkeled in years. “If you see one fish, you have seen them all.” Well sometimes that is true. In any case, she donned a mask, fins and snorkel and did well. She was pleased with what we saw despite a leg cramp toward the end of the long swim back to the boat.

To get a close up look you can dive down 20 feet to be eye to eye with the sculptures for a brief moment and be in their world. That world is quiet and very peaceful, unperturbed by the anarchy of surface winds and waves. They are, however, affected by their own environment of currents and storms. After years on the bottom, they accrue a marine covering and will eventually become part of the underwater eco system.

I don’t have any underwater photos, but you can visit this site to see what it looks like and a description of each sculpture.

https://www.puregrenada.com/underwatersculpturepark

The whole park turns the expression, a fish out of water, upside down. These sculptures seem content in their watery environment, far from the madding crowd ashore. It was an interesting afternoon, and we were soon back aboard Kalunamoo planning the sail to Trinidad. A weather window opened, and the overnight sail to Trinidad was taken.

Our 16^th voyage ended where it started. The next two months we will feel like fish out of the water as the hustle and bustle of life on land contrasts with what we have become used to over the last fifteen years. No doubt, aging has something to do with this also. As the older you get, memories start to outstrip dreams and possibilities seem more limited. But nonetheless life goes on as we accrue the patina of age. I do, however, have a sense that the world has changed and continues to change to the extent that many of us feel like fish out of water, or like the Moliniere’s Vicissitudes sculpture, surrounded by an environment at odds to our common understandings that will forever change us.

One of the sculptures is titled La Diablesse, from a Grenadian folk tale. She casts diabolical spells that only can be broken by turning your clothing inside out and walking home backwards away from the area. If it only was so simple!

Is it live or Memorex?

We have been here in St. Lucia for well over a month. As written before it is our mid-season M&R stop. But it is more than that since we are inclined to move around less and stay anchored longer. We did get all our M&R (nothing major) including personal work accomplished and awaiting a good weather window to head south. That looks like tomorrow.

Previously I wrote about Gemini, Google’s AI “assistant” and how it described what KALUNAMOO was and what life aboard it in the Caribbean was all about. It was a clear demonstration for me what AI could do, which was both amazing and frightening. Others have written about their own reflections of what AI said about themselves; how it really helps diagnosing boat issues and directs repairs; and how it predicts weather more quickly than traditional weather models. In addition, AI has taken over video and photo presentations. Was that what I see or just a brilliant disguise?

All this reminded me of that 70’s ad campaign “Is it live or Memorex?”. Memorex was an audio recording tape that sounded as good as a “live” performance when played back. Or so they claimed. Is that AI “assistant” as good as a “live” person?

I am bringing this up because of another AI program. A few weeks ago, we had a musical jam session with a couple of other cruisers on SWEET CAROLINE and KALUNAMOO. We got together with Tim on VAHANA, Joe on ADIONA and Rene on THIRD TAC. We are all non-professional musicians and just like to make “pleasant noise” together. Sometime all in the same key. I am always on the lookout for other cruisers to jam with and willing to lug my keyboard around to other boats.

Tim sang a song he wrote called Alternator Blues. A fun song about a defunct engine alternator on a boat. After some time, we managed to get the chord progressions, rhythm and timing right and we all had a good time. A few days later Tim introduced me to Suno.

Suno can be described as a music and record producer, arranger and recording studio. It is totally AI and produces music and songs. Give it some idea, a musical genre, and some other inputs and the result comes out amazing. Tim gave Suno his lyrics to Alternator Blues and it “produced” a completed audio rendition. Was it Memorex or was it live? I couldn’t tell as I was completely amazed. It was a blues rhythm with a great male vocal and an arrangement with a band back up, all AI generated. It makes you realize what a producer does to make a song really sing!

So here we were anchored in Rodney Bay St Lucia, having completed the M&R chores (mostly), reading books, swimming, eating at various restaurants, having sundowners with other cruisers, looking for the green flash – in short – living on a boat, and waiting to sail on. I logged on to Suno.com and see what it can do.

Over the years, I have jotted down “lyrics” to ideas that will probably never see the light of day. But Suno comes along and so I give it a try. I uploaded my lyrics “Around the World” and gave Suno some prompts to see what it came up with as a simple folk song. I don’t think it will win an Emmy but it check out:

What does this all mean? It has been said that the most important feature of the human body is the opposing thumb. That, and the ability of the brain to control it, made us who we are today. From that humble begining, tools were made from ideas in the brain. What a long road was travelled; although in the universe of time it was only a recent momentary flash. As the tools at our disposal become ubiquitous, avenues of exploration experiences expand exponentially (AEEEE).

We have seen this in all walks of life and certainly in the realm of sailboat cruising. What was unthinkable before: crossing oceans in a small boat, living on a boat with the comforts of home, are routinely undertaken.

Making music seemed like the ultimate human activity that only humans can do. The best of it reflects a human inner soul that is hard to express otherwise. Of course that is not true, birds do it every day. Aren’t the hills alive with the sound of music? It can be argued that Suno didn’t do anything more than duplicate sounds and patterns that existed before (it learns from published music) and just arranged them in statistically pleasing ways. It doesn’t have that inner soul driving that expressive emotion.

I think that is true, it is just a tool that humans can use. Much like the progression from a hammered dulcimer to a modern piano, the tools are more sophisticated and are used to manifest what the soul conceives. But it, like all AI, is very persuasive. The emotions it conveys are indeed artificial, and that makes it a very dangerous tool. Because at the end of the day, humans react to emotions that machines will never feel. When AI music moves the soul, does it know the pleasure it gives? Does a wind filled sail know the pleasures it gives to the captain?

Almost Deja Vu

We have been in St. Lucia since March 12. We are approaching a month here and could be here for another two weeks. St. Lucia has been our mid-season extended stop off island for many years. Between November and June the mid-season break usually ends up being a somewhat M&R stop. That is the way it has been this time also. M&R dental work for both of us, medical lab work for Maureen, and M&R for Kalunamoo. We are at anchor and only go into the marina if needed. Our generator was acting up (actually not acting up – no output) and so we went into the marina for 3 days for repairs. It was a relatively easy fix, new brushes were installed.

Not that we are complaining all that much. As the years go by, we spend more time anchoring at the islands we call, taking advantage of living aboard as opposed to hustling island to island. This slower pace started here 6 years ago.

In 2020, we arrived in St. Lucia in March. We didn’t leave until November. You may recall it was the first of two Pandemic Seasons. At that time, we just had the engine oil cooler on Kalunamoo replaced here and we were ready to sail south. The only trouble was that all the islands were “closing down” the day after the new cooler was installed. Travel restrictions, covid test (PCR and quick test), masks, social distancing, and restricting businesses were the order of the day (or week). No one knew the extent or duration of the closures, nor the long-term prospects of reopening. It was certainly a change of pace and lifestyle!

We fared well here. Never did get covid and eventually sailed north to Antigua in November. The pandemic was still around and so we stayed in Antigua until May and returned to St Lucia to repeat our long stay again.

After those two years, the desire to travel outside the Eastern Caribbean waned. Older and wiser – I’m not sure which (definitely older), but we are inclined to do less island hoping. Traveling to new lands can, and has been taken, by jet during the summer!

One advantage of longer stays on each island is that the cruisers we know sailing up and down “stop in” and so we get to spend time with them as they pass through. There is also a fair turnover of cruisers. Many “swallow the hook” and sell their boat,sail off to other lands, or depart for life’s alternative adventures. New cruisers arrive and the cycle repeats itself.

**Easter Dinner with Sharon, Lee, Steve, Maureen and Bill**

Of course, the world keeps turning despite what we do. Maybe even despite what we want to do! Monumental happenings occur but so often we hear, “It doesn’t affect me”. It is a fact that most of these events don’t affect the vast majority of humankind. At least not immediately or directly. The pandemic, on the other hand, affected almost everyone. And those mostly benign effects, even today, are still hotly contested. Other events, like wars, are just 5-minute segments on the 7 PM news, just before switching to Netflix. A few months later, they fade into oblivion. But much like a hurricane in a distant land we may only experience a low ocean swell rocking the boat in a protected harbor, a slight inconvenience but never experiencing any devastation. Maybe the price of something goes up a marginal amount and we get upset. What’s worse, however, we become immune to those far away disruptions that have little effect on our daily lives. Justifications and rationalizations ensue and we go further down the slippery slope we humans are prone to follow. History is rewritten in our favor. Living “offshore”, those effects are further minimalized but are glaringly apparent from afar. It is for that reason we do try to keep up with events far from Kalunamoo’s gunwale. If, for no other reason, it does affect our sensibilities, and sometimes it feels like Dej Vu.

Wind

Sailboats need wind to sail. When the wind dies, they wallow in the low swell in the ocean’s doldrums and await the return of their motive power. In olden times, it may have been days or weeks of light breezes that stalled the great clippers on their ocean voyages. They were weary of leaving the Trades as doing so would subject themselves to the lightest of winds. They earned their money delivering cargo in the shortest possible time and to beat the competition to market.

Then along came the steamship. Wind was now on the other side of the equation. It wasn’t needed and if it blew too strong it would impede its progress. The idea of a schedule on ocean passages was becoming a possibility. Today cargo ships crossing the ocean are on fix day and time schedules. People want their shipment of French wine or Brazilian coffee delivered exactly every Friday at 8am. And it is.

Every cruising sailboat has an engine for those times when the wind doesn’t cooperate. Sure, there are those who refuse to “power up” regardless and cruise with minimal engine hours. They are not on a schedule and wait for the right “weather window” to proceed. Yes, people have cruised around the world without an engine, it is doable. They pride themselves on such feats.

Ironically, many also pride themselves on other things they have on their vessels: electricity, water and navigation equipment. This “must have” list eventually expands to: refrigeration, water makers, powered winches, air conditioners, dish washers and washing machines, solar panels, wind generators, ice makers, internet connections 24/7, and full time access to AI assistant as an additional crew member. I don’t find fault with any of that as they certainly enhance, if not enable, cruising or living aboard. But to point out that engines somehow reduce the ethics of sail/cruising seems disingenuous.

But I digress. What I want to write about is wind. When there is lack of it, we don’t hesitate to motor if we want to keep moving. The operative words are “if we want to keep moving”. Schedules may or not be involved.

On the other end of the spectrum there may be too much wind. This brings me to the issue at hand today. If there is too much wind, no amount of engine power will calm it down. Strong winds can be as disruptive, even more so, than light winds. But this is the nature of sailing. Each person and vessel defines what they consider “strong”. In addition, strong winds make the seas angry. Sometimes very angry. Angry seas are nothing to sneeze at. They can turn a gentle swell into cresting waterfalls with deep valleys of doom. The saying “roll with the punches” has a sinister meaning when the seas can literally roll the boat over, something that will definitely spoil your day at sea.

All this to say that we have been in St Anne Martinique since the middle of February. By the end of that month, we planned to continue to move south. But on the last day of February the so-called Christmas Winds decided to visit. They are the strong 25+ knot winds at anchor that occur in the Caribbean winter. Between islands the wind is considerably stronger. They may last a day or two or longer. These have been blowing for over a week and they are expected to continue for much of the next week. One day we had winds of 30+ knots at anchor. No angry seas as we are close to shore but traveling by dingy to shore can be a wet affair. Constant monitoring makes sure we, or boats nearby, don’t start dragging. Our planned departure to St Lucia has been pushed back and it looks like the end of the week will be acceptable.

For the technical reasons why these winds were “up”, one must look at the bigger picture. The trades are driven by differences in air pressure. High pressure (H) north of the islands and low (L) pressure over the north coast of South America drives the strong easterly flow of winds. This is a three-dimensional chess game. We are at the bottom of the active air mass that extends to over 50,000 feet above us. The trades are only in the bottom10,000 feet. And we live in the very bottom 50 feet! Above that 10,000 foot level, the wind is normally out of the west. This winter’s snowstorms in the U.S. this impacted this pressure pattern up until February. That was not unusual. The high pressure north of the islands was pushed aside and lighter trades winds developed. This changed by the end of February and high pressure returned to the mid-Atlantic and has been driving the trades ever since.

Sure, we and the boat could have sailed in this weather, but have we become “fair weather sailors”? Maybe. When there is a choice, we’ll take fair weather any time. Long passages may not present that option although I remember what Don Street, famed world-famous cruiser, once said. In a reply to the question, “How many hurricanes have you sailed in?” he said “none”. The secret, he said, was not to be where hurricanes are.

In the scheme of things, weather, and specifically wind, plays a big part of our life aboard. It is something we have little control over. It is a humbling constraint. Looking at the bigger picture and listening to the world news, one can only wonder what other humbling constraints exist today. There seems to be less of them, enabling human actions that are at best disruptive and, at worst, horrific. They are the winds of change generated by humans in a three-dimensional world.

A Hop, Skip, and Jump. And a Jam.

After two and half months in Antigua, we sailed south. The time spent on that easy island was high in socializing with family, the Salty Dawgs and friends. It included a two-week jaunt to New York at Christmas time. Before leaving the island, we reprovisioned our essential food and drinks to reach St Lucia.

It was a hop to Guadeloupe. The weather was delightful. Clear skies, no squalls and winds were moderate east trades of 18-20 knots on the beam. Those days are the jewels of sailing. You usually end up paying for them at some point, but who thinks about that then? Full jib, stay sail, main and mizzen, it doesn’t get any better than that. It’s a good way to save fuel!

The usual first stop in Guadeloupe is Deshaies. That is the lovely French waterfront town made popular by the British TV series Death in Paradise. Perhaps that title is a little off putting as it’s actually a takeoff of the old Colombo detective TV show. Most of the mayhem involves tourists, not locals, so that is reassuring. We have been there many times, so we didn’t need to deal with a crowded anchorage or the strong funneling winds (and maybe some malcontent tourists?) so we continued south. Past Pigeon Island, we dropped anchor at Bouillante and watched the green flash of sunset. We were at anchor there for two days in the 84 degree geothermal warmed water. Despite a small roll, it was a stage 2 going to stage 3 at times, it was a very leisurely stop. The roll is always a problem when anchoring in an open roadstead in lieu of a protected harbor. Despite being halfway down the coast and in the lee of a very large island, swells are almost always present.

Weather, and seas dictate our time schedule. It looked like a good time to spend some time in Les Isles de Santes. These small islands are just off the southern coast of Guadeloupe. Moorings just in front of the main town of Bourge des Saintes on the main island, Terre D’er Haut is the best option for anchoring. Elsewhere the water is too deep to anchor or far from town. The issue is to find an open mooring. No reservations are taken, it is a first come, luck of the draw situation. We found that the best time to arrive is around 9-10 in the morning when boats start to leave and before others arrive.

To arrive at that time, we decided to move from Bouillante to the River Sens by Basse-Terre the day before heading to the Saints. This also minimized heading into the strong winds off the south corner of Guadeloupe and to arrive in the Saints by 9 AM.

That was a good plan but anchoring by the River Sens (its more like a small stream) in the open roadstead subjected us to a rolly night. It was only one night of stage 4 going to 5. (Stage 4 – watch your drinks; stage 5 – plan to move!). The reason for the roll is due to the low swell generated by the constant winds at the ends of the islands that creep up in the lee of the island. There is no local wind, so the boat lies beam to the swell. It is one reason why catamarans have become so popular. They are less subject to the harmonic roll of a monohull in these low swells.

But it worked out fine, as we picked up a mooring on arrival off the main town and found a few other cruisers that we knew there so it was back to socializing!

This was Carnaval Season. The week before the Christian Ash Wednesday most islands celebrate the week with street music, floats, costumes and “partying”. Its not really a religious experience as much as a good excuse to party. Trinidad has the largest carnival of all but all size communities from Fort def France, Pointe a Pitre to Bouillante hold celebrations. They are colorful and noisy affairs. We have attended many over the years and this year we managed to avoid all but a small troop in Les Saintes. The music, however, was heard in all anchorages!

From the Saints we anchored overnight in Dominica and then sailed down to Martinique. Again bypassing the usual stop at St. Pierre, we anchored at the less popular town of Le Carbet. We did meet up with BeBe there as they were heading north and had a great dinner aboard their boat that night. We were getting close to the socializing scene. Before our last stop in Saint Anne, we spent two nights in Les Anses D’Arlet and again heard the carnival sounds from the anchorage.

We finally made Saint Anne, going around Diamond Rock in the early morning to avoid the strong head winds when going east. The old men of Diamond, the bearded one facing east the younger facing west are the stoic souls of solitude sailors. Or at least that is how they look to me.

In Saint Anne we met up with a number of cruisers we knew and participated in what cruising in the islands is all about – socializing. Moving around to different “neighborhoods” the field of neighbors is wide. Our days of hiking may be over, renting a car is more our speed, but swimming, snorkeling and dining out keeps us busy as ever. For me the icing on the cake was that cruisers from four boats could get together and play somewhat harmonic sounds, AKA music. Thanks to Sweet Caroline who provided a venue, we gathered on a Saturday night, watched a green flash, sang some songs, had some munchies, played some music and socialized in Paradise. Just as it should be.

It’s February! Where did January go?

The last blog entry was a month ago and I wonder if my desire to keep this blog going was declining. After all, the last blog was about Gemini’s AI take on our life on Kalunamoo and I thought it did a good job. Maybe even better than I do! Our cruiser friend Bob did a similar post and AI gave a good description of his and his wife’s life aboard their boat. Maybe .I should let AI take over the task of blogging. Much like how Predict Wind’s computers tell me that the sun is shining or how Googles Copilot keeps trying to break in while I type these blogs asking “what’s my point?”. Intrusive AI is as annoying as auto correct. The Seven Seas Cruising Association’s new HAL app AI rakes the internet and delivers personalized, easy to understand, real-time information for cruisers worldwide. Can all mysteries be solved? Is artificial better than real intelligence?

Believe it or not, there are actual blogs between the various AI chat applications: https://www.astralcodexten.com/p/best-of-moltbook

You can “listen in” and lurk behind the scenes of what these AI chat boxes are actually saying to each other. I can only assume that some of it is coded so only the AI app themselves can understand what they mean. Who could tell if they plan to take over the world? Or have they already?

This brings me to what we did in January. We flew back to Antigua the day before New Year’s Eve and then sailed over to Falmouth Harbor. We were awakened by the midnight fireworks and went back to sleep. In the morning it was January 1, 2026. That was no surprise.

But January was going to be different for us. Our Canadian friends were coming down to stay on board for over two weeks. We first met Roman and Olha thirteen years ago while anchored in Middle River FL. They were on their boat, Moya Maria, waiting to cross to the Bahamas as were we. They came over for sundowners in their dingy. Olha climbed aboard with crutches in hand. She broke a leg in the Erie Canal on their way south. That was the beginning of the never-ending stories, we heard from them for years. During this time, we crossed paths, buddy boated at times, visited them in Canada and kept in touch. They since sold their boat and live in Canada. I can fully understand their desire to get some place warm in January.

We picked them up in Falmouth Harbor amid the mega yachts and dinghied them out to Kalunamoo.

The week before they arrived the weather was dry and the winds were calm. The day they came, the weather turned windy with more than the usual shower activity. I wondered if some of that Canadian weather didn’t tag along on the plane with them. The weather didn’t interfere too badly but a planned sail to Barbuda didn’t look too promising. Antigua, however, has multiple places to sail around as we planned day by day. Having cruised themselves, they understood the ad hoc “living conditions”.

We managed to sail/motor from Falmouth to Jolly Harbor, Deep Bay and Great Bird. Swam on various beaches, played games (including a new Canadian board game: Super Tok), had movie nights, made boat repairs, karaoke, cooked meals, discussed world events and I believe, we all had an enjoyable time. The highlight for us was that they are both good cooks and so meal time was a real treat. Among other things, Roman bakes great bread, Olha makes great salads, Maureen serves great appetizers and I make great rum punches. What’s not to like?

I don’t think AI could have helped us have a better time together as we told each other’s life stories and experiences. Their family’s emigration to Canada from Ukraine, with multiple stops in between, gives one a good perspective of a challenging life affected by world affairs. But that is really the essence of the cruising life most cruisers experience. And one of the major attractions. Up close and personal is something that AI is missing, although it is quite capable of imitating it. We may not be cruising to distant shores, but we do meet people from those shores and there is nothing artificial in that.

Where else but English Harbor can you meet people who just rowed across the Atlantic Ocean? Or invite neighbors who just sailed in that day for cocktails? Or play a karaoke pirate? That is what cruising is all about.

We will start heading south when the winds cooperate. Making our way down the islands to Trinidad. And yes, this blog will continue without AI. It will be powered by my feeble organic intelligence (or lack thereof).

Mirror, mirror, on the Wall…

As many know, the word Kalunamoo, the name of our 47’ ketch sailboat is unique. If you Google the word “kalunamoo” you will only come up with our boat. There is a story behind that fact, and it can be found on the menu of this website. None of my postings, writings, emails, texts, blogs or essays use AI, despite Microsoft’s constant offer to help “improve” my writings with their Copilot. Maureen is my editor for life and that is fine with me. AI does, however, use MY writings, and who knows what else, in its every expanding large language mode to duplicate what humans have been doing since caveman times.

I few months ago, I asked Gemini, Googles free AI tool, “what is a Kalunamoo?” It had a good description of our boat which was very amusing. What was most interesting was that it didn’t distinguish between fact or fiction. Today, I thought I might try again. This time I wanted something a little bit more specific. We are in New York and snow is on the ground. That led me to thinking of the Grimm’s story of Snow White and that magic mirror. Was he describing a GUI? Was he foretelling AI? No matter, I wanted to ask that magic mirror a question.

I asked Gemini “What is it like living on the sailboat Kalunamoo in the Caribbean? This is the actual verbatim AI text response including the emphasis, typeface and graphics:

GOOGLE’S GEMINI’s RESPONSE

That sounds like an adventure! Based on the blog entries and information available about the sailboat Kalunamoo and its owners, Bill and Maureen, living aboard seems to be a mix of adventure, hard work, socializing, and continuous learning.

Here’s a breakdown of what life on Kalunamoo in the Caribbean appears to be like:

⛵ The Lifestyle

Full-Time Cruising: Bill and Maureen have been full-time liveaboard cruisers since 2011, making the 47-foot Vagabond ketch their only home. They mostly cruise the Eastern Caribbean Islands, from Puerto Rico to Trinidad.
A “Good Life” of Experiences: They view their travels as collecting “psychological memorabilia” and enriching themselves through daily experiences and challenges.
Very Social: Cruising and living aboard is described as a very social lifestyle. They are members of several sailing associations and enjoy hosting informal gatherings, or “JAM sessions,” aboard.
Weather Dependent: Their schedule and movements are heavily conditional on the wind and sea conditions. They move to where the warm weather is and often sail south to Trinidad during hurricane season for haul-out and maintenance.

🔧 The Realities and Challenges

Constant Maintenance & Repairs: The sailing life is far from purely glamorous. They frequently mention “M&R” (Maintenance & Repair), which includes routine work and fixing unexpected issues like cap rail leaks, thru-hull modifications, and even retrieving an anchor and chain after a failed snubber in a squall.
Overcoming Setbacks: They share stories of dealing with challenges like power outages on islands, rocky anchorages (“stage 7’s” on the “Kalunamoo roll scale”), and the stress of dealing with boat issues like a cracked bow plate or a sticky roller furling jib.
Logistical Challenges: Simple tasks can be difficult, such as finding a safe, well-maintained place to “park” the dinghy or dealing with a lack of infrastructure (like proper dinghy docks) on some islands.

🗺️ The Adventures

Island Hopping: They are constantly exploring new places, with recent trips including Trinidad, Grenada, St. Lucia, Bequia, the Tobago Cays, Dominica, Martinique, Guadeloupe, and Antigua.
Immersing in Local Culture: They take road trips with friends to explore the interiors of islands like Dominica, visit local spots like chocolate factories, and participate in community events like a Lion Fish dinner.
The Cruising Community: A strong theme is the camaraderie among fellow cruisers, who come to the rescue when help is needed, such as when their anchor chain ran out.

In summary, life on Kalunamoo is a blend of freedom, beauty, and travel, balanced by the constant practical demands of maintaining a 37-year-old boat and the logistical hurdles of island life.

Would you like to know more about a specific island they’ve visited or perhaps what kind of maintenance they tend to do on the boat?

I’m astounded! What an honest mirror this Gemini is. The next step is to take it out of its little box, and have a big LED screen display with a selfie which talks to you in your own voice and image and answers the eternal question – who is really the fairest of them all? Your morning ritual may never be the same as the mirror selfie will suggest your clothing for the day, perhaps you need a haircut, or reminders to buy some rum, the cabinet is running low. It may direct you to a world that may not be fact nor fiction. It may, as what Bruce Springstein sang, offer a brilliant disguise. Ugly truths and beautiful visions – things that come easily while living on a sailboat in the Islands.

We will be in New York until after Christmas with family and friends. While visions of sugar-plums dance in some heads, we dream of warmer weather, with only sheets on our bed. I’m sure Gemini never thought of that! But now I have to get going to write our Christmas Newsletter. Merry Christmas to all!

The Day After

It’s the day after Thanksgiving. Although you would not know it here in Antigua. The Pilgrims never landed here, there is no Plymouth Rock, and turkeys are hard to find. Christopher Columbus landed here on his second voyage in 1493. He named the place Santa Maria de la Antigua after a church in Spain. The Caribs, the locals at the time, apparently were not welcoming so no feast was served. It took another 130 years before English settlers came here and grew tobacco. I guess everyone needed a smoke. Sugar eventually became the major crop and Rum was not far behind. Is that the evolution of food? The English nemesis, the French, never really threatened the island but that didn’t stop the English from building the ubiquitous forts and defenses found around the island. Today English Harbor is a World Heritage site and a Rum brand. The Rum was started by a Portuguese Family. Gigantic Cruise Ships call St. John and tourism and resorts, including cruiser like us, dominate the economy.

There are no yellow/orange fall foliage displays nor is it Black Friday, the insane day when stuff must be bought. But there are indications of changing seasons. The Rainy Season is ending and the Trades are starting to pick up. The Hurricanes have ended. BTW- there were no named storms in the Lesser Antilles this year. Tell that to your boat insurance salesmen!

Other indicators are that Christmas Décor is sprouting and has been for weeks. Tourists are arriving, escaping the Northern Winter while cruisers are planning where they will be for the Christmas/New Years celebrations. Each island has their own vibe. As usual we will fly to New York at that time to visit family and friends and hope for no snow delays at the airport. Two weeks in New York at Christmas time suffices our desire for a cold winter. On our return to the islands, the 85 degree sea water temperature thaws us out sufficiently to continue on.

Our sail up from Trinidad, the last leg – St Lucia to Antigua – was uneventful. Just like we like. It was pleasant enough without the drama of neither mal content weather or boat parts. We made the quick jump up here for two reasons. The first was that Laura and Drew flew down to stay with us for five days. The second was to join in with the 80 boats or so of the Salty Dawg Caribbean Rally that arrive mid-November.

We think Laura and Drew (daughter and son-in-law) had a great time. It was their first time down on Kalunamoo in the Caribbean. Swimming, snorkeling, restaurants and chilling out were the main activities. Boat living is an acquired taste and, like our other two daughters, may not be in their retirement plans. But like we say, whatever floats your boat. But it was great having them here and wish we could get the three daughters, three son-in-laws and seven grandkids down but we definitely would need a bigger boat for that.

The Salty Dawgs did arrive over a two week period. Weather delays and diversion to Bermuda – they all sail from the East Coast – spred the fleet out. In addition to a few that we knew on the Rally, other cruisers we knew sailed in. This becomes a big busy social scene. That kept us busy each day and so now, the day after Thanksgiving, we will begin to chill out before flying off to New York (and hopefully not get too chilled).

We did celebrate Thanksgiving with our kids via video, watched the Salty Dawgs small boat regatta and then had a great Turkey dinner at Angie’s Marinaside restaurant.

We will return before the New Year and head south when the winds and tides are favorable. Columbus only made four voyages to the Caribbean. Next year will be our 13th year. The locals are much more friendly now, despite having no Thanksgiving, and so we island hop to places Columbus never did visit. And we can count on no snow falling!