Kalunamoo

When the Earth Shakes

On June 24, of this year two major earthquakes shook the Venezuelan coast. The first, at 6:04 am, the second was a minute later. Almost 500 miles away, the strongest earthquake Venezuela has recorded since 1900 was barely felt in Trinidad. Within days however, the coast at Galfa Point on the southwest coast of Trinidad had risen as much as 20 feet, a road at L’Envieuse had torn in two, ponds had sloshed over their banks, and a new island of mud had broken the surface off the south coast.

Jesse James (Maxi Taxi Members Only) organized a cruiser’s tour of the area, which like all his tours, turned out to be a very enjoyable and informative day away from boat work in Chaguaramas. Seven cruisers signed up and off we went with Jesse and Mr. Ramkishore Maharaj (Mr. Ram), who served as a knowledgeable local resident of the area. Jesse’s tour always includes stops to experience the local foods and culture of the area. His nonstop narratives as he drives show his love and knowledge of Trinidad. He says he loves this “job” of conducting tours which is certainly evident.

This day long trip to the southwestern point of Trinidad started at 8:30 in the morning and headed east through Port of Spain then south on the Uriah Butler Highway past Chaguanas. This meant that the first stop would be to get some breakfast at ‘D’ Blue Shed. Besides Doubles, other Trini delectables included Saheena, Biganee and Kitchorie.

Fortified with a Trini Breakfast, Jesse drove on past San Fernando and Point Fortin. The highway turned into local roads down to Cedros. From there, the road really became “back roads” where 4WD off road vehicles would be appreciated. Jesse, driving his Cruiser’s Van was undaunted as we traveled down narrow partly paved roads then gravel roads after passing Cedros. We then made it east to the beach at Galfa Coast.

Rocking and Rolling

This area, on the southwest point of Trinidad is only about 12 miles from Venezuela. The sea passage between the two is known as the Serpent’s Mouth as opposed to the passage on the northwest side by Chaguaramas, the Dragon’s Mouth. If you get the feeling they were named this way for a specific purpose you may not be wrong. The question is, which land is the dragon and which is the serpent? I have no idea.

In any case, the southwest part of Trinidad has the unique geology of being on the top of many geologic faults between the South America continental plate and the Caribbean plate. The Caribbean plate is being pushed east and that is the cause of the earthquakes in the area. It also results in making the abundance of oil and gas easily extractable both by Venezuela and Trinidad. Driving to the Galfa Coast, plots of land were dotted with small oil well pumps in the Bonassa oil field. Mr. Ram mentioned that each may produce a number of barrels a day. Well, at $100 per barrel, having one in your back yard may not be so bad.

We arrived at the wide flat beach that seemed to extend forever. Looking north it was unbroken for miles. Looking south was different. There was a clear break that looked like the beach was lifted up by about 20 feet.

In fact, that was exactly what happened in a few minutes back in June when the earthquake shook Venezuela. Mr. Ram was there a few days later. He explained that the seabed that was underwater a few days before, was now 20’ in the air. Fish were stranded, rocks covered with barnacles far above the sea level were everywhere. Rocks lower toward the water were clean of any sea life. The sand was a mixture of sand, clay and the oily substrate that dominates the area. A full description of the event is described here: https://ttweathercenter.com/2026/07/12/how-did-the-venezuelan-earthquakes-affect-tt/34567/

**Rocks encrusted with barnacles way above the tide line.**

The surreal image of the beach upheaval was startling. One can only imagine the forces involved. You could then imagine what the Venezuelans experienced.

Besides the Galfa Coast point of interest, we proceeded to areas that had mud volcanoes. These are also part of the geology of the oil and gas fields that bubble up mud. They have also done more then “bubble up” by erupting and flinging mud in large areas. We also saw an abandoned World War II bunker that was used to protect the oil fields and refineries during the war.

We had lunch at Mr. Ram’s private property which he is developing into a nature preserve. A center to observe birds, wildlife and the local natural environment. He envisions it as a place Trinidadians and visitors alike can come and experience that natural beauty of southern Trinidad. It can also support overnight accommodation, which makes visiting the southern end of Trinidad more convenient.

Cruisers rarely venture south in Trinidad. Jesse offers tours to the Asa Wright Nature Center in the North, the Caroni Swamp to see the Scarlet Ibis, the Pitch Lake and many other areas but this was his first trip all the way south to the Galfa coast. He hopes to add this to his list of tours. I highly recommend joining him to go to places few tourists experience the next time when in Trinidad. As the Andrew Sisters once sang, “If you ever go down Trinidad
They make you feel so very glad…” even without the Rum, and Coca Cola.

Return to the Summer

After three months in New York, seeing family, friends, doctors and other medical professionals, we boarded a jet plane and flew back to Kalunamoo in Trinidad. Labor Day was approaching and despite global warming, September promises falling temperatures. I don’t trust the weather when light jackets are required. Don’t call us snowbirds as we dare not wait for the first snow to fall. Arriving on that Friday afternoon at Piarco International Airport one can feel the heat and humidity kick in. Both are underrated. Maybe it’s an acquired taste but so be it.

There was a long line at Immigration as many Trinidadians were returning home. It took almost an hour and a half to clear immigration and another half hour at Customs. We were in no rush as a fellow cruiser, Will, was coming in from Miami an hour behind us and we wanted to share the taxi ride to the boatyard. Turned out, by the time he arrived the line moved quickly and we were ready to go together. A stop at Customs at the port was required as we both were carrying “Yacht in Transit” boat parts that must checked. No duty or tariffs are paid, just paperwork. That is something, Trinidad is famous for. That, and carbon paper!

During the four-hour flight, I imagined what our season in the Caribbean would be like. We would stay in Trinidad until the end of October, finishing up the boat work that Ali and Quincy were working on. In addition, we will try to do some touring with Jesse James and we hear that there will be a cruisers Cricket game organized. I have no idea how Cricket is scored or played other than there is only one base to run. It should be fun.

Upon entering the boat, it is on the hard out of the water, the first thing I noticed was that the lights didn’t work. I saw that the batteries were dead and the charger was not on. The flashlights worked and the air conditioner was on but no 12 volt power. It was getting late and everything looked ok except no charging. More investigation would be done in the morning.

The next day after much investigating, I got the small bow thruster charger working to charge the batteries and provide 12v power. The electrical distribution switches are such that the house, engine starting, bow thruster, generator starting batteries and the main charger/inverter and bow thruster charger can all be interconnected in many configurations. That worked and in two days, the batteries were fully charged.

In the meantime, I started investigating the best way to replace the large Xantrex charger/inverter. The closest ones were in the U.S. Long story short, got quotes for replacement and shipping but also contacted Avi, the local electrician, to come by and figure out what happened. Probably when they moved the boat in the yard, not an unusual occurrence, they didn’t reconnect the shore power. Since they were now recharged, all that was needed was to reboot the charger. That worked and we were back in business with power! Until today. The Xantrex is now showing faults and refuses to be on-line. Avi will be called again but I see a new charger/inverter in my future.

Initially it was a simple fix compared to what our friend Bob on Pandora just wrote on his return to Pandora in Sardinia. He needed to replace his charger/inverter and engine alternator. Fortunately, he had them on the plane from the U.S. Yes, fixing things in exotic places is part of life on a boat. I’ll have no choice but to have one shipped in. Hopefully that works out.

In the meantime, I began working on our refrigeration system to be able to work while we are out of the water. That entailed some plumbing work and relocating the circulating pump to use the boat’s freshwater tanks or sea water to cool the system. It took a few days but that saves us getting a bag of ice a day to keep some food cold while on the hard. After it was done the freezer box didn’t freeze. Cool Keath, the refrigeration guy, was called as there was an issue with the thermostat control but that was quickly solved. Maureen started provisioning now that we have refrigeration!

Ali and his workers installed new Plexiglas in the cockpit, repainted the boot stripe, will install a new rub rail and apply the anti-fouling bottom paint before we splash. Some other minor work including new shelving below the cabin deck was installed. All in all, typical M&R to keep Kalunamoo ship-shape.

So what do we imagine the season will be? As we have done in the last few years, our cruising pace is slow while we enjoy our time in the Eastern Caribbean. There are always new people and cruisers to meet, get togethers, musical interludes, and spirited discussions.

It is said that time appears to fly when your brain doesn’t need to record new events. Summer seemed to last forever when we were kids as we recorded new events every day. Today, not so much. The brain may measure time in events, not hours or days.

That may be a good reason, to entertain new events every day. It may not keep you young, but your sense of time may slow down. Hopefully new events don’t include boat repair. Certainly, we could sail beyond the Caribbean as many others have. The Caribbean, and Trinidad in particular, is a major hub for worldwide cruisers coming and going. We meet many and listen to their stories or wish them well on their adventures. Whatever long-distance travel we may undertake will be by air! In the meantime, we stop and smell the salt air, if not the roses.

Three Months Ashore Redux

I ran my recent blog post thru ChatGPT to see what it could do. Well, it certainly did a professional—and polished—cleanup. Just look at all those separate paragraphs! And those dashes—almost magical. Microsoft has some issues with it as Co-Pilot underlined some words that it said needed to be re-written. Well, each to their own. Would love to have Co-Pilot talk directly with ChatGPT and maybe have Gemini arbitrate.

ChatGPT didn’t seem to pick up on my reference to Laugh In’s Ernestine. You remember her, right—the telephone receptionist who always wanted to know the person she was talking to? I understand—that was before ChatGPT was born. OMG, I can’t stop—dashing!

I wonder if it found it ironic to maintain the phrase “ultra-processed digital missive”?

Not to be outdone however, it managed a name drop to show how it can statistically word associate. ChatGPT knows John Donne! But apparently doesn’t think sailing around the world without modern navigations system is worth mentioning.

AI is the future—no doubt! I guess I will just have to use more Dashes, Paragraphs and Polish to keep up—and ethereal experiences!

ChatGPT: Here is a polished and more professional version that preserves your reflective voice, humor, and central themes:

“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, Ontario

Singh was not writing about ocean cruisers, although he might well have been. He was referring instead to the world’s “uncontacted” Indigenous groups—fewer than 200 communities believed to remain in relative isolation. They live primarily in South America, Asia, and the Pacific, with many located in Brazil, as well as Indonesia and India. Some of these communities may number only a few dozen people.

By and large, their isolation is a choice: a decision to remain unconnected, off the grid, and apart from the larger world. In many cases, local governments seek to protect that choice, even as modernity remains an ever-present and encroaching force. These communities should not be viewed as “stuck in prehistory,” but rather as living within a history—and a way of life—they have chosen to preserve.

Professor Singh is also a major contributor to the documentary Metabolism of Islands, which explores a related subject.

The metabolism of an island can be understood as its process of sustaining life: the input of resources, the demands placed upon those resources, and the resulting outputs. Again, Singh was not referring to cruisers and their wanderlust, although the comparison is tempting. He was examining the survival strategies of small island populations and the challenges created by limited resources and growing demands.

Both ideas—the choice not to connect and the challenges of sustaining life within a closed or constrained system—may resonate with many liveaboard cruisers. They certainly do with us.

At first glance, the choice not to connect seems paradoxical within the cruising community. I have often said, and written, that cruising is a highly social endeavor. A casual perusal of cruising publications reveals countless organizations, associations, businesses, publications, and government agencies devoted to supporting the cruising community in all its forms.

Even the lone solo sailor is no exception. Not to be confused with the Solo Class Association, solo sailors are often remarkably well connected. From Joshua Slocum’s pioneering voyage in 1898 to organizations such as the International Joshua Slocum Society, and from websites cataloging hundreds of solo sailors to events such as the Global Solo Challenge, there is no shortage of communities devoted to those who choose to sail alone.

Then there is the Golden Globe Race, where sailors set out on a solo, nonstop circumnavigation using traditional navigation methods and minimal outside contact. Even there, however, the solitary sailor remains part of a larger community—a club of sorts for those who have chosen one of the most demanding forms of connection with the sea.

To paraphrase Groucho Marx: I don’t want to sail in any organization that organizes sailors.

By definition, we would never hear much about truly off-the-grid sailors, solo or otherwise, because they would be just that—off the grid. They would not appear in publications, blogs, videos, or social media. There would be no membership dues, boards of directors, bylaws, or websites devoted to their exploits.

And yet, I suspect they are out there. Somewhere.

Perhaps visiting the Sentinelese in the Bay of Bengal at this very moment. Or perhaps anchored quietly in a remote cove—or even on a sailboat next to ours.

Of course, being “connected” today is far more elaborate than waving to a neighbor or meeting friends for a drink. Who doesn’t use the internet? When you receive a message, are you communicating with the person you intended to reach—or with an ultra-processed digital missive? How much does AI know about you? Which of your boat systems are connected to the internet? Are you on AIS? Can you monitor your boat from shore?

Connections now reach outward like the tentacles of an octopus. At what point does technology cease to be merely a tool and begin to become an alternate personality?

Flock is on land. AIS is on the water. Apps, agents, and Starlink may be our Eye of Sauron—ever watchful. Sailing organizations can know where their members are at almost any moment. And we have already seen examples of water utilities discovering the downside of being too connected.

Then there is the metabolism of sailing—another reality every cruiser must confront.

The inputs are the vessel, crew, fuel, supplies, and provisions. The demands include seaworthiness, companionship, energy generation, food, water, and repair capability. The outputs are transportation, waste, environmental impacts—and, if we are fortunate, a collection of ethereal experiences that cannot easily be measured.

Singh’s documentary examines how the populations of small islands must live within the dictates of their own metabolism. Life aboard a boat imposes similar constraints. Resources are finite. Energy must be generated. Food and water must be acquired. Waste must be managed. Repairs require materials, skills, and access to the outside world.

Yet, as John Donne reminded us, no man is an island. Outside inputs are still necessary.

Island communities depend upon the movement of energy, food, goods, and people. Residents and tourists alike place demands on limited resources. The resulting outputs include physical waste, environmental consequences, and cultural change. Cruisers are part of that metabolism as well. We participate in every stage of it, and we can see the effects clearly every day in the Eastern Caribbean islands.

Maureen and I have been in New York for nearly three months while Kalunamoo waits out hurricane season in Trinidad. During that time, we witnessed our grandson’s wedding, revisited family and friends, and caught up with doctors. We drove to the lakes and peaks of the Adirondacks and to the shores of Annapolis. We fished the waters off Long Island, marveled at the travels of Odysseus on the big screen, enjoyed Come From Away on stage, and ate genuine New York pizza and bagels along with Chesapeake blue crabs.

In other words, we have been thoroughly connected to the metabolism of life on land.

And yet, the pull to disconnect—to construct a different metabolism of life afloat—remains.

Not totally. Not completely. But just enough.

We belong to a few sailing organizations. We enjoy impromptu sundowners with cruisers we meet in anchorages. We remain connected through the internet and through friendships ashore and afloat. I am always on the lookout for musicians willing to make a little happy noise together.

I suspect most cruising sailors feel much the same way, each with his or her own definition of “enough.”

We look forward to meeting new cruisers and local residents, even when sailing in familiar waters. In September, we will return to Kalunamoo, ready to disconnect from some of the potholes in the metabolism of life on land and readopt the metabolism of life afloat.

Three months ashore have not diminished the pull.

It is not rocket science.

But perhaps, like gravity, it remains something of a mystery.

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.