Every adventure that I’ve had in my 20′s has been an exploration of myself and an evaluation of new possibilities. When I visit a new place, I like to picture what my life would be like if I lived there. I wonder, would I have a positive affect on the community, or would I spend my time focusing on more introspective issues, becoming a better artist or developing my self. Brian and I went to the Virgin Islands for many reasons: we went to visit friends, look at boats, briefly escape from winter, and contemplate what it would be like to live down there for a while – if say, we were to go on another, longer sailing trip through the Caribbean as we had originally planned.
Ever since Brian and I returned from our trip to the Bahamas, we have been talking at length about our options for the future and our immediate plans. Both of us are always looking for opportunities that fall into place at just the right time – decisions that make sense and feel right on an intuitive level. A friend of ours recently remarked that the decisions you make in your twenties greatly affect the person you become in your thirties, and I find that this statement rings true to me when I think back on the some of the defining decisions I made. Although I am not yet in my 30′s, I can see how my decisions in the last seven (almost eight) years might impact my next ten years. Joining an Americorps program at age 20 led me to Italy for a year-long study of art; finishing my creative writing degree drove me to pursue a job in editing; and my job in editing pushed me away from a desk job and into a pursuit of artistic interests and healthy living. With each action I took, I was able to gather more information to help me inform the next decision. At 25, I had already starting making decisions about the direction of my life, evaluating my options based on who I was and who I wanted to be.
Brian and I went on a two-week scouting mission in the Virgin Islands. Just as I’ve done in the past, we were gathering information for when we are ready to make the next big decision, so that we will have a little bit of extra information to guide us. Although we aren’t sure exactly how things will pan out just yet, we both know that we would like to finish our exploration of the Caribbean, and we are doubly sure of this after our trip. The Virgin Islands did not disappoint. The mountains were a welcome change from the Lowcountry scenery back in South Carolina, where you can barely see over the marsh grass at low tide, and I snapped so many photographs of the jungle foliage as we hiked across St. John – lush tropical inspiration to use in my studio. Inspiration was everywhere, it seemed to be the ideal environment for living on a sailboat, and because it is part of the United States, we could work there legally.
We also made a point of visiting as many art galleries as we could find – looking into studio space, what the local shops are selling, and thinking on the feasibility of creating and selling my art down there. From a the sailing perspective, it was a no-brainer, but we wondered how long we would really be able to stay on one island before we got itchy feet again. Luckily there are many islands to explore locally and each with it’s own unique feel. It was surprising to me to find that the answers to almost all of our questions was yes. Many people had told us to push on to the Virgin Islands last year, but with no money to use as start-up, we made the conservative decision to sail home. We will be hanging in Charleston through the fall and the next big decision will hinge on many factors. But if we do venture south again, we’ll be prepared, and a short (or long!) stopover in the Virgin Islands could play a key role in our planning.
I recently began working on sketches for a couple new design projects, and it got me thinking that maybe I should include a few posts about my creative process. As you know, most of my ideas are taken from plants and animals that I encounter. I can usually find a nice place to sit while I sketch the vegetation, but drawing moving animals is not an easy thing to do. My camera serves as a way to record those fast moving critters or to remind me of specific details that I want to record. Often I will pull from several different photos to put together a full composition, but I usually just start by sketching one subject in many different positions and poses. About half of the time, my first sketch turns out well enough to use in a project, but other times it is the process of drawing a particular form over and over that allows me to figure out the best way to present my subject. If need be, I will turn to images on the internet to find an animal in a particular position, but only if I can’t get a good photograph myself or, if part of my photograph is blurry, I will supplement to fill in an important detail.
When I was serving in AmeriCorps *NCCC in Washington, D.C., I used to take the metro over to the Botanical Gardens with my sketchbook. This was back when I first started drawing, and it was a great place to practice. I loved sitting among diverse varieties of lush flowering plants. The air was fresh and moist with the smell of the damp soil; I easily spent hours in there. More recently though, I had the great opportunity to take my sketchbook with me around a beautiful island in the Bahamas (easily the best place I’ve done art research!). While in Georgetown, Brian and I made friends with the owner of the Kevalli House and his girlfriend (who happened to have grown up in Savannah and then lived in Charleston while we were living there!), and they graciously allowed me to explore the area around the house and up at their gazebo, which overlooked the beach on the east side of the island. It was a two-day scouting mission to see what sort of plants and animals I could find for future painting subjects.
I am always drawn to interesting organic shapes, so some of the vegetation really drew me in. I drew the big green leaves of the sea grapes, the thin curling leaves of the seven-year apple, and the tropical red flowers that were in full bloom. The environment was composed of mostly shrub bushes, the tallest trees being of the palm variety, but the place was alive with the sounds of scurrying lizards and buzzing bees. Small birds flew from tree to tree over head, and as I sat sketching a red flower, a bananaquit flew over to sip nectar across from me. Later, I captured a tiny green hummingbird doing the same. I don’t know beforehand what I will be inspired to draw, often for me it is the experience that informs the decision or a connection that is made during the initial observation. In the final stages, the drawing itself will inform the design aesthetic.
What do we do on a hot summer day when our sailboat is on the dock? We find a quiet little sandbar to enjoy by way of our friend’s motorboat. Last weekend one of our friend’s had a birthday, so per his request, we grabbed some lunch at his favorite BBQ joint and the four of us piled into his skiff to search for a quiet beach. Armed with a cooler and a set of Bocci balls, we flew along the ICW at speeds of upwards of 30 mph (that is fast when you are used to moving at 5.5 knots!). I should mention that the Intracoastal Waterway is perfect for a little motorboat and Brian has been dying to get one ever since we got back from the Bahamas.
When we reached the backside of Wassaw Sound, we pulled up alongside a handful of other boats right onto to the beach and hopped off. We played a little game of Bocci ball, enjoyed a leisurely float in the sound and tidal creek, and after several hours in the sun, we raced an afternoon thunderstorm back to the dock. It was a typical summer day on the water. However, as many boat owners already know, you can’t go boating without something breaking….insert sigh. So alas, the carb on our friend’s motor get clogged on the way back and we had to get a tow in. Like I said, it was a typical day on the water. 
You may have noticed that in addition to being armed with a set of Bocci balls and a cooler, we also had four freshly printed Forest and Fin tees. The tees were a gift to our friend to celebrate his day of birth, but we thought it would be fun to do a little “photoshoot” while enjoying such a beautiful little spot, so Brian and I each wore a shirt, too. First off, the girl that served us at Sandfly BBQ thought we were in some sort of bird club. Secondly, we probably should have shot some photos before we all got wet! But hey, it was fun to say the least!
Brian and I have been in Savannah for two weeks now, and I am still learning my way around. We decided to document our summer here through a Tumblr called Savannah Summer. This is just a little side project that Brian started to document our time on land and encourage us to get out and explore this new city as much as possible while we are here. He (we) will try to post one new photograph of Savannah everyday until September. These preliminary photographs were taken in the neighborhood around the house we are currently renting. You can click on the link to check out a few more with captions!
I found these photographs when I was looking through my Bahamas albums last night. It’s such a shame that I didn’t get to post them while we were in the islands, but better late than never right? Brian and I have been so busy since we got back, and we’ve spent so much time in the car, driving here to there…ugh! But we are now set up in a little house in Savannah, GA — wonderful. Brian is still doing IT work remotely and decided to take up a couple new hobbies (like learning how to brew beer!), and I have finally (as of yesterday) finished setting up my print studio. I am so excited to start printing new tees and also to move on to some other art projects that have been on the back burner for a long time. More on all that soon!
While we miss life on Illusion, we are happy to be taking advantage of a little more space and AC during the hot summer months! We are cleaning up the boat and taking as much of our junk off as possible in the hopes of completing some new projects. Some of you may have heard rumors that we are looking at boats again. Well, as if we don’t have enough to worry about, yes, we are looking, but we’ll see what happens. Because we have been living aboard for two years, we have a pretty good idea of what we want! We are looking for something of similar length, but with more living space, a better layout, and a longer waterline. If we upgrade boats, we want an ocean-going vessel, heavier, more stable, and with more free board, in order to sail farther more comfortably. But, as of now, we are still planning to cruise on Illusion again this winter – hopefully probe a bit farther down into the Caribbean.  I’ll try to post more pictures from our trip soon (and also some photos of the new press). Bear with me — life on land is busy, busy, busy!
In just two-and-a-half-days Illusion sailed from Great Sale Cay in the Abacos to Hilton Head Island, SC, the same distance that it took us a month to travel (mainly motor) via the ICW last December. This means that Brian and I are quite literally back where this whole thing started. But even though our departure from the Bahamas felt like the ending of our trip, with 3,000+ miles behind us and some 25+ islands visited, we sure have come a long way.
I have learned magnitudes: about sailing, about myself, but most importantly about the life I want to live. Although Brian and I keep putting off such decisions as where we want to be for the next six months or whether or not to sell the boat in order to get a bigger one, we have made a couple other big decisions lately. And the biggest one is this: we like the lifestyle and we want to incorporate it into our long-term plans – in other words, we want to do it again! But when and how are the more recent questions on our mind.
It was a tough decision to head back to the States (mainly a financial one), especially since we know how hard it is to actually leave in the first place. Consider that it took us a whole year after our planned departure just to make it to the Bahamas! But I have always loved the saying, the journey is the reward, and I think it is particularly fitting. We learned so much in our first year, traveling from Hilton Head Island to Annapolis, MD, and learned so much more in the process of bringing the boat back south last fall.
It was because of all of our coastal cruising, that the Bahamas truly felt like a playground. I still don’t consider myself a great sailor, but I know how to handle the boat in so many different situations. Certainly Brian and I found ourselves to be a functioning team. I’m not sure why I needed to prove it to myself, but I feel much better having come to the realization that, as far as cruising is concerned, we measure up. I think now I am finally ready enough to let the chips fall where they may.
On the last morning of our passage back to Hilton Head Island, a pod of spotted dolphins came to visit us four separate times over the course of the day. Beginning with a morning show for Brian, they played in our bow wave and launched out of the water around us for a good thirty minutes each time. I put Brian on dolphin duty, meaning he had to take the tiller so that I could run up to the ratlines and take a hundred or so photos. It was such a beautiful sight to behold, that it was hard to feel sad about leaving. Plus, the fact that the same pod of ten or so dolphins returned four times to escort Illusion home seems like a pretty good omen to me. So let the chips fall where they may! I am rolling with it and coming to terms with the fact that our plans are still yet-to-be-determined. After all, that is one of the most important lessons of cruising.
Or perhaps you can help us determine when and how the next adventure will take place! Stay tuned….
Zebra-striped snail shells cover the rock shoreline, while sea urchins cling to the inner pockets along the divide between land and surf. Waves pound against bluffs that twist into vertical rock formations or flatten onto deserted beaches. Someone has created a trash sculpture of a man. He sags under a burden of miscellaneous plastics that even the fierce elements cannot destroy. Fitting really, if you think about it. Man creates trash; man builds trash sculpture in his likeness — something to remember him by. His presence is felt all along the deserted stretch of shore. But just over the next bluff lies another lagoon-like beach without a trash man.
Sometimes it’s easy to get carried away here — or maybe even a little bit lost. You could imagine that you are the first to set your foot in this exact spot, that even though this island was discovered hundreds of years ago, that you are seeing it just as it looked the first time. Then you notice a length of neon-blue line tangled around a piece of driftwood or the rusty nails protruding from a weathered board. Don’t worry, I tell myself. It’s just the trash-man assembling his limbs. In fact, this shattered blue bucket could be the next trash-man torso. It may never have a heart, but already it has a presence.
When you live on a boat, there is still nothing better than stretching your legs on a new piece of earth, especially when it’s filled with beauty and life. With each step, your muscles rejoice, reaching out to meet the ground. I place my footprints in the sand next to the tracks of lizards and birds; I squat down to peer at snails and to look for fish trapped in pools of water; and I examine sun-bleached chunks of brain coral. Just as the trash-man, my presence is certainly felt, but the difference is that I do not linger.
Four sailors set out to hike the beach and bluffs of Great Guana Cay. Little did they know, they were in for some bushwhacking. But what adventure doesn’t involve a few scratches? Or forging a path through heavy underbrush and shrub palms while traversing caverns of porous rock formations? Or a race to get back to the dingy before dark only to find that the tide has really fallen, and it is now beached far from the water? Next adventure: getting back to the boat. Such is a day in the life of a traveling artist.
*I could not find a picture of the trash-man among my photos, but you can click on the link above to see a photograph that Brittany of Wind Traveler took.
At 4:30 pm Illusion sat in the sand mere feet away from the Staniel Cay waypoint, but the tide was at dead low. Brian put the motor on the dingy and attached the spinnaker halyard, running straight out from our starboard beam. Illusion strained ever so slightly and heeled over a tiny bit more. Even with full sails, we couldn’t tilt her over far enough to get her keel out of the sand.
It wasn’t long before a deluge of dingies came into sight, surrounding Illusion like a school of fish. It seemed that everyone wanted to lend a hand. We sent two dingies to the bow to “push” and the largest dingy to the other side to pull on the spinnaker halyard again. On the count of three, I gave Illusion half throttle forward and the tug-o-war began.
Illusion rocked over to her port side and slowly began to spin in a half circle, but to no avail. It’s an especially low tide today, one man told us, but any minute now the tide will begin rising and you should be able to float off. Scott and Nat, showed up in Rasmus‘s small inflatable, coming from beyond the famous Thunderball Grotto (of 007 fame) on their two-horsepower motor. They had arrived an hour before us and were well into a batch of sangria, when we had radioed. Although it was obvious that there was nothing to be done, they kept us company while we dropped anchor and waited for the tide to rise.
By the time we floated out of the sand, it was nearly dark. We motored into the deep channel that wound its way past the Staniel Cay Yacht club and around the giant rocks to where our friends were anchored behind the Grotto. Since it had grown dark and the current had become quite strong, we picked up a mooring for the night. It wasn’t until several evenings later that five of us headed over to the Grotto to see what it was all about.
Our first view of the Thunderball Grotto was of the giant rock in which it resides. The entrance itself is not overly obvious, except for the small dingy mooring that sits in front. At high tide, the entrance is actually covered with water, but at low tide, you can swim into it without having to hold your breath.
Amazing. I pulled on my flippers and stuck my feet in the cool water before hopping all the way in. It was slack tide. Small yellow-and-black stripped fish swam up to me looking for food. We were in maybe ten feet of water hovering over a white sandy bottom. Little schools of fish swam past us, the larger fish darted for the entrance to the cave. As I approached, the bottom became more interesting and the fish began to increase in size. There were little patches of coral and vegetation covering the ground.
I snorkeled through the entrance to be sure that I didn’t scrape against the rocks. A bright teal-green parrot fish swam under me, puckering his big yellow lips, and a brown-stripped grouper cowered in a small pocket in the rock. When I lifted my head and peered above the water, I realized that I was in a huge chamber. In fact there were two-chambers, the second even larger than the first. The ceiling of the cave was dome-shaped with a small hole in the center that let in a small amount of sunlight. On a small scale, it reminded me of the Pantheon in Rome. We swam around the rocks and chased the small schools of fish at the entrance until the current grew stronger and the sun was setting in the sky.
We stayed in Staniel Cay for three days. It was a beautiful and remote little town, and seemed to be quite the popular place.
Nothing is better than dropping anchor beside a tiny beach, throwing our inflatable kayak in the water, and exploring an uninhabited island. Shroud Cay sits just inside the northernmost boundary of the Exuma Cays Land and Sea Park, a sea reserve that serves to create a safe haven for sea life in the Bahamas. There are ten or more islands within the park, including multiple private islands that are inhabited, but generally the islands are void of human influences – except from passing boats of course.
Shroud Cay looked like a set from Jurassic Park. Brian and I paddled our kayak into an alcove in the rocky shoreline. Gray clouds lined a darkening sky as we drifted past the entrance and paddled into a tiny tidal lagoon and creek. We glided across the clear water a mere six inches off the sandy bottom. A rock-ladened hill dotted with shrubs and miniature palm trees rose to our right. Little piles of stones set in orderly stacks lined the hill. We climbed out and waded over to the shore, our feet sinking into soft white mud that suctioned our toes and squirted out little jets of cold water.
Nat, from SV Panacea, sailed in behind us, looking for a quiet place to anchor his shoal-draft sailboat, and we all walked our boats up the creek until abandoning them to climb the hill. A few big raindrops splattered the water, and soon it began to rain. We looked for cover but found none, the shrubs being too small to provide shelter. It didn’t bother us much, the freshwater rinsed the salt from our skin, and within a short period, the rain stopped. A rainbow appeared against the troubled sky, and we stood in silence until we could no longer tolerate the dampness of our clothes and our skin chilled against the cool breeze. Then we paddled back to Illusion.
The next day the exploration began in earnest. Our friends on SV Panacea and SV Pirat set out to traverse the mangrove creek that cut all the way to the other side of the island. Brian followed in the kayak. The expedition took them several hours, and they returned to say they had made it to the other side and saw a few small sharks and a baby sea turtle along the way. I couldn’t resist the temptation. Brian offered to accompany me for a second trip, so after a quick lunch, we jumped into the kayak and paddled over to the entrance. The tide was lower than expected and, in fact, still going out. The creek narrowed, with deeper pockets of water amidst sandbars and serpentine shoals.
The kayak hit bottom again and again, and each time Brian got out and pulled us farther along. The mangroves we past sat almost completely out of the water, their red trunks and leaves sparkling with dried salt crystals. Small gray fish darted away from us as we navigated the shallows. Finally we came to a curve in the creek with a rock shore and the depth increased turning the water a cool blue. Brian mentioned that he had seen the sea turtle in that very spot, so we circled a few times before tracking deeper into the mangroves.
Mockingbirds sang loudly, flying from one side of the creek to the other, perching above us in the green foliage. The sun dropped lower in the sky, and as talk turned to dinner, we decided it was time to turn around. Once again, we passed through the deep pocket of water that ran along the rock shore, and once again, I stared down six feet below us and watched the fish that swam under the shadow of the kayak.
I was looking for sharks. As I gazed down at the bottom, a strangely patterned rock caught my eye. I watched as the rock detached from the bottom and seemed to drift forward with us. In another moment I saw that the rock had a flipper – four flippers to be exact. A baby sea turtle was frantically trying to swim away from us, but swimming parallel to the kayak in the process. We stopped paddling and drifted until he swam wide of us and darted from our view. I took a deep breath and looked around me at the nursery of the sea. How lovely to see a healthy ecosystem. We retraced our original track to find the setting sun had turned orange, sitting low on the horizon and filling our vision as we paddled back to the boat.
Our friends were already gathering on the beach as we rounded the last corner, so we quickly climbed aboard Illusion and threw a loaf of bread into the oven. I chopped up some fresh garlic, tossing it into a tiny bowl with olive oil and rosemary. With our dipping sauce and a hot loaf of olive bread, we paddled to shore to join our friends for a small feast laid out upon a simple beach wrap.
* Brian took most of these photographs on his first mangrove expedition.
The wind picked up to a solid 20 knots as we left the Allen’s Cay anchorage in the late afternoon and headed farther south to Norman’s Cay following our friends aboard SV Rasmus. Rasmus sailed east out into the Sound in search of Mahi Mahi (which they hooked!), whereas Illusion along with SV Panacea decided to sail west onto the Banks.
We raced Panacea with the wind behind us, fighting hard against the building waves and subsequent weather helm. In such conditions, I usually vote to reduce the sails, because I’ve learned that Illusion does not like to sail downwind. In any sort of seas, it is difficult to maintain a straight course, and with less mainsail up, she is easier to manage. But being late in the day and with Panacea racing off to our port side, we didn’t even pause, and I quickly handed the wheel to Brian.
The waves crashed over the beam, soaking us with salty spray, as Illusion flew over the water, surfing to speeds of 8 knots. Brian had been at the wheel for all of ten minutes when, all of a sudden, we heard a distinct snap. Instantly, Illusion spun 180 degrees back around and into the wind. As Brian turned the wheel with no response, it became immediately obvious that our steering had given out.
Illusion did the best thing she could do given the situation, she hove-to (meaning the head sail blew across the bow, filling backwards with wind and counter-acting the forward wind action of the mainsail – holding us in one place). Meanwhile, Brian tore through our cockpit lockers in search of the emergency tiller. Orange life jackets, bags of extra lines, and boxes of tools, epoxy, and oil piled into the cockpit. Finally, Brian extracted a heavy-duty, L-shaped, stainless steel pole from the depths. Unscrewing a small metal circle in the cockpit floor, he tried to attach the piece to the now-exposed rudder post.
We were shocked to realize that our emergency tiller did not fit. The square end of the tiller was ever-so-slightly too small to fit snugly as it should. Like using a screwdriver on a stripped screw head, it barely gripped the post. With full sails and 20+ knots of wind Illusion would be too much for the tiller (in its present state) to handle. Because we knew we would be dodging a few coral heads on our approach to the anchorage, we fired up the engine, furled the head sail, and dropped the main. Panacea, who was in radio contact with us at the time, slowed down to assist us in the event that we had any additional issues. We motored to Norman’s Cay at a delicate 4 knots and managed to safely drop anchor just after the sun set.
The next day, Brian pulled out the steering chain and discovered a broken link. After radioing the nearest marina, and researching via the phone, we came to the conclusion that, due to our remote location, we would be unable to locate a replacement. So with much patience and determination, we set to filing down the inner edges of the emergency tiller until it finally fit over the rudder post. As our friends snorkeled a wrecked sea plane, the crew of Illusion worked on boat projects. At least at the end of the day, there was a nice big fillet of Mahi to eat in the company of good friends!
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In early 2009, I moved onto an old Chris Craft sailboat with my boyfriend, and I decided to become an artist. This blog chronicles the pursuit of my dreams, exploration, travel, and art.
Join me for the adventure!
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