Dispatch, Thursday 19 April

30 nm from Wrightsville Beach
 I got to Frying Pan Shoals, off Cape Fear, just about the time the weak cold front got here. Not bad weather, a few sprinkles and only 12 knots of wind, but the wind went from south-west to north. Now I am headed north to Wrightsville Beach, straight into the wind.
  This is the most important thing I have learned on this trip: I have had a problem because when I make bread, as soon as I take it out of the oven, I eat one entire loaf. I have learned how to not do that. Make really bad bread.....
  ETA is 16:00 this afternoon.
Bill Doar
s/v Advent II

Dispatch, Wed 18 April

60 nm east of Charleston
  I am still becalmed, overcast, but now with no current. The Gulf Stream turns east out past Hatteras and I have crossed it and now just have to go the 100 nm up the coast. Also, for some reason it is quite choppy, which makes it uncomfortable onboard. The forecast gives me no reason for optimism. "Stationary front, today light and variable, Thursday: south, south-west to west 10 kts. Friday west 10 kts, Sat & Sun gale force wind. I want to give that gale one day extra margin, so I want to get to Wrightsville Beach not Friday but Thursday. That is tomorrow. After the rough time I had going south against the wind and current, I very much wanted to sail cleanly all the way home. I made it this far, but now, as much as I don't want to, it will be on with the motor. I have 110 nm to go, so at 4 kts I will arrive tomorrow afternoon. Of course, if that south-west wind forecasted is strong enough to sail in I will take advantage of it.
  There were two more episodes of strange waves yesterday, spaced maybe 30 minutes apart. In each the waves were bigger and more widely spaced, but each jiggled the boat like the first, but slower and harder each time. None of it was bad, just a particular side-to-side juggle. Also, purely coincidental, some birds came. Not sea birds but three were little finch type and one swallow type. They seemed to be trying to land on the erratically moving boat. Two went inside the cabin. I found one dead this morning.
  The bread was made with 100% whole wheat. Really tough, hard, and not much taste. I think I learned something.
  For now it is motor, motor, motor over the slick, somewhat choppy ocean.
Bill Doar
s/v Advent II
Later - The chop went away, or maybe I went away from the chop. No traffic on the radar, no traffic on the AIS, no traffic on the horizon. Nothing but a glassy, softly undulating ocean.
17:30 - After motoring all day under trisail, with drifter and poles out ready for light south-west wind, the wind came, but south-east at 12 kts. Poles in, genoa out, and I am sailing smoothly at 5.4 beautiful knots.

Dispatch, 17 April, Waves

 I was sitting in the cockpit reading, the boat slowly rotating in the still, glassy ocean. I  heard something and looked up. Coming toward me were waves. Coming in a line as far as I could see in both directions. Small waves, not over 2 feet, but many, very close together, the kind of chop a swift running tide will make. The boat started jerking and bobbing about. Not badly, hundreds of 2' waves converging on the boat will not make it buck badly, but it was bucking around. Still no wind, and my rate of drift had not changed. The waves moved off to the south west and I could see slick water in front of it as it moved away from me. They passed on by, and now the ocean is slowly going back to the way it was before...An earthquake?
  Bill Doar
  s/v Advent II

Dispatch, Tuesday 17 April

100 nm east of Brunswick Georgia  200 nm to Wilmington
  Today I turned the corner. I have been heading northwest (in fact, north-northwest) to get into the Gulf Stream, for two reasons. The first is to ride the current. It will give me a free boost. The second reason is in case a cold front or low pressure cell moves this way. If something bad comes I can simply head straight west for about 20 nm and be out of the Gulf Stream and its really bad conditions in a north or northeast wind.
  Well here I am, smack in the Gulf Stream and all its terrors. The wind stopped. Nothing. Smooth glassy seas. One thing, it is comfortable. Nothing but a gentle rolling swell. This is what is hard to believe... boat speed through the water zero. GPS boat speed, 4.3 knots! This entire mass of glassy smooth water is moving 4.3 knots. I am happy about that. The boat is going where I want to go and I am not doing a thing. It jhas given me an opportunity to try different ways of rigging a light air sail, the drifter. It is up right now, poled out, ready to catch the smallest breeze when it comes. For now, I am going to make some bread.
  BIll Doar
  s/v Advent II

Dispatch, Kiteboarding

When something makes me really happy I want to share it.
  Kite boarding is done with a board similar to that for snowboarding or wakeboarding in that you stand on a board and go left or right, down a hill, being pulled by a boat, or in the case of kiteboarding, being pulled by a kite. The kite may be 8' high and 20' wide. In addition to power lines that are attached to a harness strapped around your waist and pull you along, there are control lines attached to a control bar used to steer the kite. You need to learn how to control the kite, and to control the board.





 The first time I saw kiteboarding was about 2002 and I was captivated. All it takes is a kite that will fit in a backpack, a board, and a harness to go around your waist. It is not brute power like waterskiing or wake boarding; it is using the wind to pull you, skimming along the surface of the water. To me it was exotic, and I knew that I could learn to do it. Normandie bought the first kite "trainer" maybe 4' wide, and I took it when I went to Houston. On the weekends I would take it to Galveston Beach and fly it, learning the feel of control. After a year I graduated to a next larger size that Normandie had been learning with. This one was large enough to hurt you if not handled correctly.
 The next step is to fly a real kite from the land. I was back in North Carolina by then and we would take the Bronco to the beach down from Carolina Beach where nobody else was, and attempt to fly it. After many crashes and tangled lines both of us were getting good enough for the next step, having the kite drag you through the water without a board; flying and controlling the kite while being dragged. I took some lessons in 2010 and 2011. I was beginning to start learning how to get up. Throughout this process Normandie was a year ahead of me. One reason was that she started learning before I did, the other was that it takes wind of about 16 knots for me to get up, she can get up in 12 knot wind. Many times I was standing on the beach watching her, not pink with sunburn, but green with envy. In 2011 I realized that, not being a wakeboarder, I had no idea what to do after I got up. So I started learning how to wake board. We rigged a vertical pole on Normandie's boat for Wilmington and the Wayler For Chocowinity, and took up wakeboarding. (Normandie named the Boston Whaler the "Doarway-ler", Shortened to "Wayler".)

 This time, using the pole I did not pull my elbows out, which happened the year before when I was getting up on the wakeboard with a horizontal pull such as when waterskiing. In 2010 I was getting up, sortta, in the marginal conditions (13 to 15 knots) we had that fall.
  A world class kiteboarding beach has steady, dependable wind, access, and a vast area of water waist deep. Only experts can kiteboard in deep water. You need to be able to stand up to launch the kite and prepare to start. Normandie found such a place in Turks & Caicos. Every year she and her mother go off for an adventure. This year it was Turks & Caicos. I would take the boat down and meet them there. Some years back a European couple went to Turks & Caicos to go kiteboarding. They enjoyed it so much they bought a small "Villa" complex, nestled in tropical lushness, on the kiteboarding beach. They have eight units (efficiency apartments) in two buildings, with pool, hot tub, etc. Normandie had gotten one of the units for the week she and Marjorie would be there. I would leave "Advent II" in an anchorage for the week.

 The rest of the story is that I put it all together. Normandie and I would take turns. She would go out maybe a mile and back, then give me the kite and I would go out and back. It was glorious. I had been wanting to do it for years and now it was a reality. We would stay on the beach after all the other kiteboaders had gone in. We didn't want to stop.
  This trip has been an absolute success. Thank you Normandie.
Bill Doar

Dispatch Monday 16 April

120 nm east of Daytona Beach
306 nm from Wilmington

  Yesterday the wind was 15-20, and choppy seas from the high winds the several days before. Today the wind and seas are down. I have been comfortably sailing wing 'n wing all day. It is really nice to just sit back and read. All I have to do is stand up occasionally and look around. I sometimes forget what I am doing and just look out over the ocean several minutes. Good wind, comfortable seas, and a positive current makes this really good ocean sailing.
  Every four hours I send in my position via satellite. The program puts my position on a map that you can zoom in or out to see the entire ocean. It is really a lot of fun. If you want to see my track go to:    adventtwo.blogspot.com

Bill Doar
s/v Advent II

Dispatch Easter 2012, Part II

The Anglican Church at Rock Sound Harbour stands proudly at the waterfront. It was locked when I had gone by the day before to find out the times Easter services. Easter morning about 07:00 I went ashore and walked the short distance to the church. The door was open and the inside was decorated ready for the service. I walked forward to the altar rail for a brief prayer. While I was kneeling a man came out from around back of the altar with communion silver in his hands. We acknowledged each other, and each went about what we were doing. When I walked out he met me at the door, and introduced himself as the rector, and that the service would be at 11:00.
 That started a discussion that lasted 30 minutes, 45 minutes, maybe an hour, much too long for a busy priest on Easter morning. We talked about many things. About his parish: he explained that the parish is a geographic stretch of Eleuthera, and that he had six churches in the parish. His father was also a priest, and they shared the duties. We talked about his congregations, the Dioces of Bahamas and Turks & Caicos. The Province of the West Indies, The Anglican Communion, The stepping down of the Archbishop, Rowan Williams. (The rector went to school in England, at the school where Rowan Williams did his undergraduate work. He would come back and give seminars, etc.) We discussed the American Episcopal Church, and the effects actions of the American church has on his parish, the diocese, and the worldwide communion. He said that all he, and his people, know about the US church is what they see on big cable networks, CNN and MSNBC. And the
 consternation felt at what they saw. He asked me to tell him what was really going on, what is the American Episcopal Church? We talked, and talked, and talked; personal, conceptual, spiritual, biblical, liturgical. When his time was getting short he dumbfounded me by asking if I would like to read one of the lessons at the 11:00 service! It was perhaps one of the greatest honors I have ever received. The thought of being asked to read for the most important service of the year.... I declined, and am glad I did, because I would have usurped one of his people who were already being honored by reading. Later, in the service, seeing the people who read, my decision was reinforced. As we parted, he took my hand, and said,"Thank you for coming here. Your presence tells us that we are OK, that the rest of the world respects us, and that we are not alone. You do not wear a collar, but you are a minister, a missionary of the Church."

   I was proud that, of the 25 or so boats in Rock Sound Harbour, six came to the service. And amongst them were six children, all blond no less. The church was crowded, and there was lots of wonderful singing. The service was the familiar Rite II service that we all know, with bells and smells. After the communion, before the dismissal, all the children were asked to come up to sing their song, words written in the bulletin. Well children came up, and children came up, and children came up. I guess there were about 75 black headed youngsters up there, and five with blond hair. (One shy youngster stayed close beside his mother. His two blond siblings went forward.) The white faces sang with as much joy as the black faces. These youngsters were undoubtedly being raised by cruising parents, and were totally comfortable in this celebration. It was beautiful to behold.
Alleluia, Christ is risen!
  Easter 2012
Bill Doar

Dispatch Easter 2012, Part I

  I went ashore at first light. I had anchored just offshore at New Bight, Cat Island, Bahamas and planned to go 70 nm that day up to a safe anchorage at the south end of Eleuthera. Wind from the west was expected; Cat Island has no protection from west wind.
  Father Jerome was an architect, a dog breeder, mule skinner, merchant seaman, missionary priest, and monk. He came to the Bahamas in the early 30's as an Anglican priest, and settled in the islands. A major hurricane had destroyed the church buildings, and being an architect, he rebuilt the buildings stone on stone in the fashion of medieval buildings, with arches and buttresses, that would withstand future storms. On Long Island alone he built seven Anglican churches. He went to Rome to study, and three years later came back a Catholic priest, and in Clarence Town, Long Island built a bigger and better Catholic church on the hill next to his Anglican church. He was "reassigned" to Australia. Some years later he "retired" and moved back to Cat Island, where, atop of the highest place in the Bahamas, he built his Hermitage.

The Hermitage

This is a small scale reproduction of a European monastery. From a distance it looks like a castle complex. And when I say "he built it" what I mean is he lived in a cave (in which his body was buried) while he, by himself, cut the stones, and constructed the buildings. It is called The Hermitage, but he led the life of a monk, not a hermit. He played an important role in the life of the islanders as a spiritual figure, medical care giver, judge for disputes, and the last resort for impoverished local people. "Beloved" is the term used to describe him. I wanted to see his Hermitage before I sailed north.
  I am still surprised to find paved roads in the more remote Bahamian islands. There was even a paved road with a sigh, "The Hermitage". In the morning twilight the road landscape was almost foreboding. There were open areas with nothing but rock outcroppings, interspersed with sinkholes. In the water these holes are called "blue holes" because they are very deep, hundreds of feet, and are dark blue compared to the waters all around. On land no telling how deep these holes were. They looked like vernicle caves. Some were 30' across, others only 6'. About a mile farther the road ended at the trailhead up to The Hermitage.
 I could see it as I looked east into the morning sky, high atop the hill "Mt Alvernia". There were Latin inscriptions on the stone arched gateway. A bit up the trail there was a monument, "Jesus Christ Condemmed to Death, then farther on another, Jesus carrying the cross, a stone carving, Stations Of The Cross.

Father Jerome made each of them. Now the trail was steep, in one place a series of 12 steps cut into the stone. Jesus falls, Jesus sees Mary. When I got close there was a plate of metal hanging from a tree. Instructions are to strike the metal with a stone to announce your presence. I announced my presence to the early morning mountaintop. There before me was the final residence, and the final resting place of Father Jerome. It looked like a monastery, on a small scale. There are really only three rooms, and these only large enough for one person. But it was an architectural work of art, and built by one man's hands. At first it was a curiosity, but after a few minutes I began to feel that I was on holy ground. The primary part of the small complex was what looked from the outside like a chapel, and in fact is a chapel, but only large enough for one person. There was the altar, with the rising sun in the window. He oriented the chapel so that altar faced the rising sun at Easter. There was one kneeling chair. I visualized the man starting and ending his day with prayer.
 The sun was above the horizon, and I had miles to go, I did not linger. As I went down the hill, past the 14 Stations, I was overcome with the realization that I had walked the Way of the Cross, on Good Friday, in the steps of a holy man.
  God Bless You All
 Bill Doar

Dispatch Sunday 15 April

145 nm east of Stuart, Fla.
52 nm from Marsh Harbour
414 nm from Wilmington, NC
  A cold front came through with the associated strong north, northeast, then east wind. I spent the time visiting, went to a very nice grocery store (prices are about 2x as in the US. We sure are blessed with inexpensive costs of living. It is that way all around the world.)Bought and ate two quarts of chocolate chip cookie ice cream, and back in the rocking and rolling boat fussed with the computer and wifi trying to upload photographs. The winds settled into the east at 15-20. It would be nice to explore some more of the charms of Abaco, but the charms awaiting in North Carolina have much more attraction, and it is time to go home.
  The wind is brisk and the sailing is great, I am making good time, and going with the current, but the wind and seas are on my quarter, which makes the boat roll and heave dramatically. My plan is to go generally north west  paralleling the Bahama Banks until I get to the Gulf Stream, then ride it north. Another cold front is forecasted for Wednesday so I may have to exit the Gulf Stream and let it pass. But now I am on a good course making good speed. That is all I ask.
Bill Doar
s/v Advent II

Dispatch 13 April 2012 Eleuthera to Marsh Harbour.

The jumping off place for the passage from northern Eleuthera to the Abacos is Royal island. Vic wrote about it in 2008 when he first visited. It is a beautiful little bay with a narrow entrance, which means there is all weather protection when anchored inside. It is truly a beautiful location, and years ago someone built an elegant private estate, which is now in ruins. Vic said that the island was to be developed, which would destroy its remote beauty and possibly access to the convenient anchorage. Development started, but is now nothing more than a dock with a sign saying "Construction Entrance", an office trailer, and some rusting construction equipment. I am sure the island will someday be developed, but the present effort failed. I dinghied ashore at the crumbling estate dock and went up the once elegant stairway. The buildings are there, enveloped in vines and bushes. Some of the flowering plants are still growing in the gardens. About the only thing left that shows the past elegance is the decorative floor tile. The most interesting room was a bathroom, rather small, with a toilet, wash basin, shower area, very large tub, and a huge fireplace. Vic, does it get cold enough here to need a huge fireplace in a small bathroom? I walked a long way along what was once a concrete road, now crumbling but still passable.
  The next morning I was out the cut to open water at 04:00 for the passage across the Northeast Providence Channel to The Abacos. I wanted to get there early enough to linger at Little Harbour. It was about then that I realized that this is somewhat of a pilgrimage for me. For many years I have heard the names Little Harbour, Hope Town, Marsh Harbour, Green Turtle Cay, Manjack Cay, Great Sale Cay, and I was now to visit there. The sea was absolutely calm. No wind at all. I was motoring comfortably at about 4.5 knots, when about 11:00 suburbia caught up with me. All of them had anchored in Royal Bay the night before. I had been with them, more or less, since Rock Sound Harbour at the southern end of Eleuthera. For awhile I had eight boats within two mile of me, then they slowly went on ahead. There is  plenty of room in Abaco to spread out. I got to Little Harbour Cut, then Little Harbour channel. And just as the name says, it is a little harbour, with a narrow passage between high banks, with piers and houses all around, reminded me of what I think a New England village would be. It would be a great place to be in a storm, if you get in. I didn't. In careless arrogance I just motored into the channel. When I did look at the depth gage I was about to run aground. I should have imediately put it in reverse and stopped, but there was a large catamaran coming in behind me, and I tried to turn around. I ran hard aground perpendicular to the shore, motoring ahead. I was hard aground. I tried all my tricks. Couldn't get off. There were motorboats coming and going, and one of them stopped. I gave them a line and they pulled my bow around, then with full power and them pulling I slipped back into deep water. That sure was a good feeling. So much for Little harbour. Next time I will be more careful, and do it at sometime other than dead low tide. It was getting late at that point, so I headed north,  past where suburbia was anchored, and searched my charts for a suitable place to spend the night. There looked like the perfect place, and lo 'n behold, it was Black Point Cay, Buckaroon Bay, a place Vic had highly praised in '08. And, yes Vic, it is one of those absolutely beautiful places.
  Thursday morning there was absolutely no wind, no current, the top of the water was smooth and transparent. No other boats, no buildings, no people, nothing but a large turtle that stayed with me about 30 minutes. I could see the bottom as well as if I were in the water with a diving mask. I was in love with the experience. It was one of those moments that we go looking for. Everything was perfect. I rigged the hookah (air pump in the cockpit with hose going down to a scuba regulator and mouthpiece) and walked around the bottom for awhile. It always fascinates me to look up at the bottom of the boat, floating above me. Then I went for a swim, just for the pure pleasure. I didn't want to leave. .I pulled the anchor, after taking pictures of it on the bottom, eight feet down, and the boat just sat there, not moving. I did linger 30 or so more minutes. Then headed toward Marsh Harbour, 15 miles north.
  Five miles or so before Marsh Harbour I came abreast of Hope Town, and its small harbour, one of the places I wanted to visit. The Hope Town lighthouse is a post card icon, red and white banded. It is the only lighthouse anywhere as far as I know, that is still lighted with the original kerosene lamp. They tell me that you can go to the top, to the lamp room, and see the mechanism. John Gray Blount, a friend from Washington, told me that he was invited to be at the top when the keeper lighted it. A rare privilege. I wanted to see it. The approach water was shallow, and I tip-toed in, very careful of the depth. I got into the harbour, and it was chock full of boats. There was almost no room for me to turn around. The lighthouse visit will have to wait for another time. I tip-toed back out to deep water, and then the five miles to Marsh Harbour.
  Marsh Harbour reminds me of Ocracoke, except larger and more commercially developed. The harbour is four, maybe six times larger than Silver Lake, and there are about 30 boats at anchor with another 50 or so in marinas. Ashore are restaurants, shops, etc. This morning I to a dinghy tour of the harbour to see if there was anybody here I knew, when I saw, would you believe it, I saw the boat "Joie de Vie", and there stood John Gray Blount, from Washington, NC, in the cockpit! He had arrived yesterday also, with three friends aboard. His wife, Mary Howard, is coming in a few days. I hope I get to see her.
  I will sail with the next weather window. The cold front has passed and is now down to Turks & Caicos, 400 miles south. Gosh I have come a long way. Wind is now 15-25 knots from the northeast. When it settles somewhat I plan to ride the Gulf Stream back to Wrightsville Beach. 
  Chilly here today. As I sail north I may have to break out the winter clothes.
  Bill Doar
s/v Advent II

winlink April 10 2012

Royal Island Harbour  L25^-30.9'N, Lo076^-50.6'W
  I am glad I left early and went through Current Cut against 2.5 kts, instead of waiting until high water slack. That means that I arrived about two hours ahead of Suburbia. I wanted to get my choice of places to anchor instead of having to wedge in between those who got here early. As it is, there are already six boats here. Check it out on Google Earth, it is not very big. When the fleet arrives the place may fill up.
  I also wanted my choice because I am considering leaving before daylight, and where I am nobody can anchor between me and the pass and box me in. Tomorrow up to Abaco. I will see Spanish Wells another time.

Friday April 6 evening

20:00 - Wind is still out of the SW. For awhile this afternoon ot was west, but then went back to SW. 15-20. About sunset there was a big, I mean big, thunderstorm off to the  north. Big black clouds, lightning, and stuff that makes you want it to stay away. But it was just off the edge of the screen on the radar, about 20 nm away. But over the last hour it has gotten closer, now about 12 nm away. I went on deck, gave it 100 ft of chain (water depth 10 feet) and doubled the snubber. While I was on deck the wind started blowing real hard, 24 kts on the anometer, and suddenly, over the course of maybe five minutes, less than that, with a sudden blast of wind, the wind veered to NNW. Now, instead of being blown onto the beach I am being blown parallel to the beach. I'm impressed.
Squall seems to have dispresered per radar. Two cruisers on the VHF discussing the weather, foreign accents, English and maybe Scottish.....
  Now big thunderstorm to the north, full moon in amoungst the clouds to the south. Sailing is so peaceful....

Friday 6 April Rock Sound harbour, Eleuthera

After pushing hard yesterday, today has been a funny sort of day. The purpose of pushing hard was to gain safe harbour, and that was successful. I have been sitting here looking at the front door of the church, people coming and going, but there is a 15-20 knot onshore wind, and I can't get ashore.
  This is not so much of an anchorage as a harbour. It is about 5 miles long and two wide, protected in all directions, and all 8-12 feet deep. All the boats in the Bahamas could anchor here. When the wind changes directions people up anchor and move to the new lee. There are about 25 boats here, and there is so much room they are  not even noticeable. The town seems large enough to have things like restraints, hardware stores, markets, etc. And enough automobile traffic to seem busy at times. I will know more tomorrow when the wind veers around to the north and I can dinghy ashore. This place has everything except an "all weather" dinghy landing.
  So, I read some, tried to do some computer chart-plotting, and did some rust repair. A little bit at a time and I may can catch up with the bad spots. There is a really strong wifi signal but I can not connect. The source is identified, so I know where to go to find out how to connect. I will let you know when I get Skype, etc. I am tentatively planning to move on Monday. More about that Tomorrow or Sunday.
  From a boat bobbing gently in force 5 wind.\,

winlink 5 April 2012 1945

Anchor down, Rock Sound Harbour, behind the bight at the southern end of Eleuthera.

winlink 1011 5 April

GFS calls for south wind 15 kts. On Cat Island or Little San Salvador there is  no protection for south wind. I will take my chances on a lee shore in forecasted 10 kts (with possible +/- 5 kts) but not 15. I am headed for Rock Sound Harbour, Eleuthera. ETA 20:00. Pushing to try to get there before end civil twilight.

Dispatch Tuesday 03 April 2012

  This is a very nice anchorage. I am tucked in behind Cape Santa Maria in a cove protected from the prevailing east wind. It seems to have everything; sandy beach, rocky shoreline, cliffs, good bottom for anchoring, a reef for snorkeling, and just over the hill is a monument to Columbus, who wrecked his ship "Santa Maria" here. I hope to go ashore this afternoon for a walkabout to explore the cliffs and caves, and may be able to make my way through the bush to the monument. This anchorage has everything but people. One other boat was way down the beach last night but it left first thing this morning. There has been very little wind, no ripples on the surface of the water, which means that the bottom looks like the boat is floating in the air. It still disconcerts me to get into the dinghy when it is suspended in space, and I can see the bottom ten feet farther down. I am also intrigued when I can see the anchor chain go down, droodle around a bit, then there's the anchor. I must have taken 20 pictures of the anchor on the bottom. I just wish I had an underwater camera. This is very impressive. I went for a swim yesterday evening and the water here seems clearer that other places on this trip. Also, the water has warmed to the point that I don't act like a baby getting in, and once in don't want to get out. Gosh it was nice. I think I will just hang out here another day.
  Then on the other hand, where I anchored at Clarence Town was also a nice anchorage, but in different ways. It had a good sandy bottom and clear water also, but it was  in a large lagoon a mile or so across, protection all around, with just a low reef stopping the waves, but not the breeze. Here I am behind hills, which is good for protection, but I don't really need protection from the gentle breeze today. Anchored a little way off at Clarence Town were friends from Caicos. It was nice seeing them again. They sailed here from Seattle, spending two years in Patagonia on the way. Back at Clarence town Sunday I went ashore to find the Anglican church, and maybe get to the Palm Sunday service. I found the church, with no roof, a tarpaulin covered a stack of building supplies, but no people. Hurricane Irene flooded Chocowinity. It also took the roof off the Anglican church in Clarence Town. I saw no one to ask about a service, and the sun was getting hotter by the minute, so I went back to the boat to grind rust and paint. "Cruising is doing boat maintenance in exotic places."
  It is only 25 nm to Georgetown, Exumas. The only real reason to make the effort to go there is free water (generally water costs from $0.15 to $0.50 per gallon, depending on the quality. There is a grocery in Georgetown with a dock, and water jugs can be filled at the dock. Then you reprovision at the grocery. People in the US don't realize how inexpensive it is to live there. All around the world fuel is $6-$7 a gallon, processed food (canned, frozen) is about twice as much, and consumer goods (appliances, electronics) are about 1.5x as much. The other reason to go to George Town is that there is a big and active (posted service schedule and people around) Anglican church there. I can pick up Thurs, Fri & Easter Sunday services there.
  Normandie and I have worshipped at Anglican churches on six continents. Almost anywhere in the world where there is an English speaking community there is an Anglican church. There is no question about whether you will be welcome, or if the service will be an unpleasant surprise. (Well Woody, maybe sometimes.) A side benefit is that many times you welcomed into their community. At Caicos Normandie and I went to the same church twice, and were almost members. Another benefit is that people at Anglican churches generally speak English. That really comes in handy in some places. Over the years our allegiance to the Worldwide Anglican Communion has grown. When cruising "Nice things happen when you go to church."
  A few days ago a couple was talking about a Fr Jerome, who, as an Anglican priest, established churches on many of the islands. The roofless church in Clarence Town was one of them. Then he went to Rome to study, became a Roman Catholic priest, came back and established Catholic churches on many of the islands. Not far from the very nice Anglican church in Clarence Town is a bigger and more impressive and newer Catholic church. Fr Jerome ended up on Cat Island where he built, apparently alone as a monk, a place called The Hermitage. The couple said it was a must see, so Easter Monday I plan to sail for Cat Island. Then on up to Eleuthera (Spanish Wells) and up to the Abacos (Marsh Harbour). After that the Gulf Stream back to North Carolina.
  Well it is too late to sail to George Town today. Looks like I am just going to have to stay here. Oh darn. Trapped in paradise.
  Bill Doar