It seems like just yesterday when I watched with longing as “Genie” wiggled her nose and like magic, she was there.    I guess I “dreamed of genie” perhaps in more ways than one.   However, we won’t dwell on that right now.

When we started our winters afloat in 2012, staying in touch was very tough and even finding Wifi hot-spots and trying to feel connected with home was an all consuming pastime.

Our “disconnectedness” reached it’s zenith, and not in a good way, when we were in Cuba where the only way to connect was to “rent” time on a government computer in 30 minute installments.  We would purchase what looked like a lottery ticket, scratch off a small area and reveal a code, for time on the computer.  While the time itself wasn’t expensive, tickets could be hard to come by and when they weren’t in stock, there was no way to connect.  As you can imagine, “ticket hording” was common among cruisers.  And, to make matters worse, the service, via a cable from Venezuela, was S-L-O-W, like an old version of AOL dial-up.

Knowing that we had to be prepared to work fast when we finally were able to get on-line.  In order to get a post done in 30 minutes,  we would work up all the text of our blog posts and then frantically upload photos that we reduced to a much smaller size and then flowed in the copy as best we could, plugging a USB stick into the computer.  Getting a post done at all was a huge effort but somehow Brenda and I were able to put up 30 posts over the two months that we were in Cuba.

However, the worse part of the experience was being so out of touch, being denied all but the most rudimentary contact with family for that two months.

Well, here we are, 4 years later and so much has changed.  With Covid-19 raging around the world and so much uncertainty, we are still able to stay in touch with family and friends in a very personal way and we can do so, using our phone as a hot spot.  No, the service is not particularly speedy but compared to past years, SO MUCH BETTER.

Yesterday was our younger son’s birthday and her partner Melody hosted a surprise party for him on Zoom.   Even with very limited bandwidth on my Google Fi phone, we had a blast joining in.   Brenda even baked him a cake, which we each ate a piece of on his behalf.  Sharing experiences was easy but “sharing” a piece of cake still isn’t possible.  Something to look forward to perhaps.  Check back in a few years and we’ll see how it goes.   A cake teleporter perhaps?  “Get on it Chris!  You’re a physicist.  How hard can it be?  As they say, it’s a piece of cake. ”

Teleporter or not, we showed the cake Brenda made, complete with a candle, to him first before cutting and eating a piece ourselves.   The “party group”, some 20 in all, were scattered over a dozen time zones, I think.  Chris, Melody and a number of others in CA, us in the eastern Caribbean and I believe that I heard one participant say that it “was the middle of the night”, where he was.  Europe perhaps?

It was so much fun to be able to sing happy birthday to him.   With the web delay on each window, let’s say that “you had to be there” to even know what song was being sung.  Of course, everyone knows that “it is the thought that counts”.  We “thought” it was great.

The birthday boy. And Mila, their ever attentive husky, seeming to say “can I have a bite?”.  Wondering what that is on her neck?  A party hat?  Or is that a doggie tracheotomy?Along with much of the world, we are struggling to stay sane while confined at home, or in our case, aboard Pandora and in a very small space.  Did I say that Pandora is about the size of a generous bathroom?  “Yes, Bob, more times than we can count!”

In a feeble attempt to stay active within the confines of our now so restricted world, we have been spending time each day swimming around the boat, Brenda wearing her Apple watch, that somehow knows she is swimming, even if she doesn’t tell it.   One lap, two laps… “the wind splashed water in my eyes!  I just hate that!”  Ok, no more laps today.

Everyone is struggling to stay active given the rules that require us to say aboard except for “essential” trips ashore.  Unfortunately, some cruisers in the harbor seem to be finding an “essential need” ashore just about every day.  I hope that doesn’t end up backfiring on us all.

However, most are doing the right thing and are adhering to the “spirit” of what’s being asked of the cruising community.  This morning I saw a guy doing arm exercises on the bow of his boat using some sort of green strap wrapped around the rigging. Yesterday, after nearly a week of very light winds, the trade winds began to fill in again.  This crew deployed their spinnaker to do a bit of “surfing”.  The process involves securing the top of the sail to the mast facing aft with a seat secured to the two lower corners.  When the wind catches the sail just right, up you go. It’s a very tricky maneuver with some risk to both boat and crew.  After one quick jerk out of the water, it suddenly looked  like things might be getting out of control.   A strong gust, would put a lot of strain on their anchor and it would get messy pretty quick if they started to drag.  It seemed to take a long time to reel the flogging sail back into the cockpit.  “Ok, ok, enough fun for one day guys.”So, here we sit, not knowing how long it will be until we are able to head to the US.  It’s still too early to head north anyway with cold fronts making for challenging conditions north of the Bahamas with a constant parade of cold fronts exiting the east coast.

Yesterday I spoke briefly with Chris Parker, our weather router, and his advice to me.  “If you are comfortable in Antigua stay where you are for a month and then consider heading north when the weather is more settled.”  Sounds like good advice.   Besides, our family has said, time and time again, please stay away until things are more under control in the US, with they clearly aren’t.

With so many cruisers in the USVIs right now, all raring to go home, much earlier than they would during a normal year, I asked Chris what he made of that.

His answer, “they are assuming that the grass is greener on the other side”.   I guess that’s human nature but we’re staying here in Antigua for the time being, hoping that things will somehow get better at home.

One can always hope.  In the meantime, we’re enjoying “Zooming” from one “event” to another.  Tonight, happy hour with fellow cruisers, some local and some in the US.  At least it’s a taste of “normal” in a world that’s anything but that.

All I can say that if there was a way to Zoom ourselves home, we’d do it.  Where’s a magic genie when you need one?

Perhaps if I click my heels together.  “There’s no place like home.  There’s no place like home.” 
Nope, still in Antigua, for now.

The orbit of the moon around the earth is elliptical and when it’s closest to the earth and is full, as it was last evening, we call it a super moon.  And when that happens to be the biggest one of the year, well, then it’s a pink moon.

Actually, it’s called pink because when the biggest super moon happens in the spring some guy decided that it should be named after pink phlox that blooms in the spring.   Ok, I guess.

Luckily, that super pink moon rose in excellent fashion last evening over Falmouth Harbor, Antigua, where we are settling into our long quarantine aboard Pandora, now entering the second week.They say that a super moon is closer, and about 15% larger than a normal full moon.  It did seem pretty big and bright to us, peaking through the light haze. It’s amazing how bright the night is when the moon is full in an area that is really, really dark when it’s a new moon.    Unlike most areas in the US, with so much ambient light from cities and towns, here in Antigua, dark is dark.  Except, of course, when there is a huge pink super moon, which there was.

Our oldest granddaughter Tori was born under a supper moon three years ago.  Her grandmother, Brenda, YaYa, dubbbed her “tiny Tori super moon” at birth and it stuck.  Well, it stuck with us and for ever more, super moons will remind us of the no-longer-quite-so-tiny-Tori.

Somehow staying up late when we are aboard Pandora isn’t very easy, “cruisers midnight”, 9:00 is when we call it quits most night.  It seems like it’s a lot later than it is.  Of course, early to bed and all that, means that I wake up pretty early, a bit before sunrise.  Most sunrises here look about the same but they are all beautiful.  This photo doesn’t show it well, but it was quite pink, perhaps in honor of the “pink” moon.  This morning I was able to watch that super pink moon finish it’s trek over the sky and set behind the mountains to the west.  I also spied a pair of dolphins that swam by Pandora at a stately pace. Getting good photos of dolphins is always tricky.   I got several. Some say that some can get a bit crazy when the moon is full.  Perhaps that’s why this fisherman, who came out in his skiff at dawn, was singing as loud as he could for several hours.   Not sure if that helped him catch fish but he sure got the attention of everyone in the harbor.
And speaking of crazy, the news from around the world is just that with Covid-19 continuing to rage just about everywhere.

I wonder if the full pink super moon made the folks in Washington crazy?  Nope, no changes detected…

And speaking of home, the US has the dubious distinction of having the worse virus outbreak of any country, world wide.  And it’s  way worse than China and  that seemed terrible as it was reaching it’s peak.

While Brenda and I wish we were home, we certainly feel like being here is safer given all the bad news coming from the NY area.  With CT and NJ new raging hots-pots, we can only watch, wait and hope that it will be safe to return before hurricane season kicks in here in the Caribbean.

While Brenda and I are signed up to participate in the Salty Dawg Flotilla to the US and hope to head to the USVIs in a few weeks, I am holding out the hope that she will be able to fly home and Steve, my mostly willing crew, will be able to fly down and help me run Pandora north to CT.

If Steve can make it, and that’s a really big IF, it will cut off weeks from my return trip as we’d take the more direct 1,300 mile run straight north as opposed to the run west to Fl and then up the coast, a total of over 2,000 miles.  It’s way longer but a lot easier down-wind run for at least half the way.

For now, I’ll take a super pink moon as a good omen that things will begin getting better soon.

Next, I’ll be reading the clouds.  Anything to find good news…

So, here we are in Antigua, unsure about what to do next.  Even with all the uncertainty in the world the sun came up today as expected and it was beautiful.  The view around the harbor is very serene with extremely light winds forecast for the next few days. The news from the US seems to be worse every day and CT, our home state, is looking like it will soon become yet another major hotspot as the infections from nearby NY continue to accelerate and bleed over state lines.

Pandora is registered in Newport RI and I received some information saying that any non RI residents are not allowed to enter the state to work on their boats.    While that doesn’t apply to us right now, it’s a sobering realization.

My brother, who drives up and down the US east coast, moving show horses, told me that he has encountered roadblocks with troopers stopping passenger cars to see where they are headed and why.

The Bahamas, part of our “escape route” for heading back to the US in a few weeks, has tightened down their borders even more, to such a degree that the US Embassy in Nassau issued this alert for US citizens.

“LEAVE AS SOON AS POSSIBLE – Whether you’re at a hotel, on a private boat, or anywhere else, if you are a U.S. citizen and at any point in the near future may need to return to the United States, we urge you to leave as soon as commercial flights again become available, or as soon as you are able to depart by boat or private charter.

Do not wait, and do not assume this message doesn’t apply to you. As we have seen, we cannot predict if, when, or how severely movement within and out of The Bahamas may become restricted, whether by air or by sea.

Anyway, here we sit in Falmouth Harbor not knowing what to do next, knowing full well that we are way safer here, where there is only a few infections,  a fully locked down island and a government that is very clear about the existential threat that they face.  When the one week shutdown is over this coming week, I fully expect that it will be extended.

It’s interesting to see how cruisers, locked down on their boats, are keeping themselves busy and as active as possible.   This morning Brenda and I witnessed a couple nearby dancing together wildly on the bow of their boat.

Brenda and I are taking twice day swims, with laps around the boat.  She was disheartened when she realized that to walk from one end of Pandora to the other was only about 40.  Not likely to get us to the recommended 4,000 steps any time soon.  Not sure exactly how many calories our laps are burning but it’s very enjoyable for us both.Brenda has also been knitting and weaving up a storm and is making great progress on a tapestry “A Caribbean diary”, that will have images highlighting some of our experiences here this winter.   She also finished a shawl using yarn that our son’s partner Melody gave her for Christmas.  Visiting them over the holidays seems like a thousand years ago.  So much has changed. While it’s too hot to sit up on deck when the sun is high, mornings and evenings are times when Brenda and I enjoy time on deck to read, enjoy an adult beverage or just enjoy the serene view that belies all of the ill in the world these days. We have also been spending a lot of time with video calls to our family using WhatsApp on our Google Fi phone.  Two years ago, this wouldn’t have even been possible.  Getting that phone was a stupendous idea.

Last evening we realized that we could, in a single call, set up a video feed with Rob in MD, Chris in CA and our friend Craig in Detroit.  We all had our “happy hour”, and it was a full hour together while watching Tori and the twins terrorize Rob and Kandice.  The contrast from their “screen” to the relative serenity of the other three of us on the call was amazing.

Happy hours aside, the Antigua Coast Guard patrolling the harbor provides daily evidence of the need to pay attention to the threat and rules that have been put in place here to protect everyone.   Our friend Lynn on Roxy, complete with their flamingo, Pinky surveying the harbor this morning, with the Coast Guard cutter patrolling in the background. Every day a few more of the mega yachts leave the harbor, I guess heading to the Mediterranean or Newport.  I heard that at least one of them had a confirmed case of the virus on board and were quarantined while that case was being monitored with the hope that the rest of the crew won’t become infected. With the idea of cutting hundreds of miles off of our trip north by transiting the Bahamas looking less and less likely, Brenda is working hard to come to grips with the likely reality that she and I will be running Pandora home with just the two of us on board.  The longest non-stop run that she has taken with me to date was from Georgetown Bahamas to Santiago de Cuba back in 2016, a three day run that she did not like at all.    That 350 mile run is a lot shorter than the 1,100 run from the USVIs to Florida and we will still be 1,000 mile from home once we arrive there.

Alternatively, we could just opt to head north to CT, directly from the USVIs but that option is a whole lot riskier as we will be hundreds of miles from land and any hope of help if we get into trouble.

So, here we sit, wondering what will happen next and hoping that the news, which seems to be getting worse every day, will begin to turn around.

As long as each state is left to their own devices and are forced to make their own decisions on how to handle things, I fear that tomorrow will bring more bad news that things will continue to get worse.

So, we have to decide when to leave the relative safety of Antigua and head home.  The good news is that we have support, weather, tracking and moral, from the Salty Dawg flotilla that will have staggered starts, heading to the US, from the USVIs and other locations.  As of today about 100 boats have registered to do the run, most opting to head west toward Florida, passing through the Old Bahamas Channel, the route that we will use as well.

So, now it seems that any option of shortening our trip by running through the Bahamas isn’t going to be likely so we will have to decide when we will leave Antigua and head north to an overcrowded USVIs and beyond.

Of course, once we arrive in Florida we will still be 1,000 miles from home.  It’s gong to be a long trip.

Great…

 

Last night Brenda and I headed ashore to pick up the last takeout pizza available in Antigua.  Perhaps it wasn’t the last but it sure felt like that.   I say last because as of midnight last night, all non-essential businesses on the island are closed for at least a week and a 24 hour quarantine is in effect.

Along with every other island in the Caribbean, Antigua has effectively been turned off.

Realizing that our freedom, such as it is, was down to the final hours, a number of our nearby cruising friends decided to get together for one last visit before the new rules went into affect, rafting four dinks together off of one of our boats.

Our thought was that by rafting dinks out in the breeze and not climbing into anyone’s cockpit, we’d be being responsible and still have the opportunity to do some socializing.  I expect that it is going to be a while until we are able to enjoy such social activities again.  Open air or not, Brenda and I were careful to place our dink upwind from the group.

And, speaking of social distancing,  I wonder what a proper caption for this photo might be.  “Tony, for God’s sake, I REALLY need some space.   Go to your dink.”And, speaking of confinement, I would not be surprised if the ban is renewed for yet another week as I am not sure what will be accomplished after only a single week given the history of infections spreading elsewhere in the world.   The good news is that only a handful of infections have been identified on the island and I understand that they were from passengers on flights from the UK and were discovered promptly.  Let’s hope that they have been contained.

I only wish that the US was so diligent about locking things down.   The patchwork approach, state by state, does not give me a lot of hope that things will be anything but catastrophic.

It is unnervingly quiet in the harbor today and in spite of dozens of boats anchored here, there has been none of the usual buzz of small outboards speeding around the harbor. While a lot of the big kids have left for the season, there’s still plenty of hardware in the two mega-yacht marinas. Everyone has been ordered to stay at home on the island and all cruisers are confined to their boats.  Even cruising around the harbor in a dink is prohibited.  And, if you wish to move to a different harbor permission you must be specifically granted approval to move by the Antigua Coastguard.

The island-wide lock down was announced two days ago from the office of the Prime Minister to give everyone time to adjust and prepare for the new rules.

The day before the announcement, Brenda and I made our last trip to get groceries, which I wrote about in a prior post, and while that experience was unnerving enough, it was only a dress rehearsal for what happened at the same grocery the day that the shutdown was announced.

By the next morning there was a line of some 200 shoppers waiting outside the market in Jolly Harbor when it opened, mostly locals, and there seemed to be little concern for any sort of social distancing, with everyone crammed close to each other while waiting to be allowed to enter the store.  Scary stuff.

A local friend told me today that the lock down was announced because nobody seemed to be taking the threat seriously on their own.

Yesterday we moved from Jolly Harbor, to where we are now, Falmouth, knowing that it was “now or never” if we wanted to change our location.  We did this for a number of reasons, not the least of which was that we could not run our water maker in Jolly as the water there has a very fine silt that clogs the filters in short order.

Another reason is that Jolly Harbor is much more exposed to waves and the forecast calls for a north swell to come into the harbor, beginning in a few days, which would make it very uncomfortable.  And, lastly, I was a bit put off during the morning VHF cruisers net yesterday, listening to cruisers lecturing other cruisers for not adhering to the restrictions in quite the right way.   In particular, one complaint was that some cruisers were touring the harbor, stopping to talk to friends while standing alongside.  Ok I get it but it’s hard to imagine infecting someone from 6 feet away with a 10kt breeze blowing between you.

So we headed off to Falmouth, a really nice harbor.  So nice in fact, that the British used it as their primary commercial port for over 100 years when the Navy was in control of nearby English Harbor.    Fortunately, we were able to take advantage of the light winds and the final day before all boats are to be locked down to make our way here.  Our plan, subject to change, is to remain here until we have a clear plan for making our way north to the US.

One of the things that I most enjoy doing when visiting Falmouth, pre-lock-down has been to tour the harbor (and I took these photos yesterday, before the restrictions were in place) and look at all the great yachts.  Antigua is often referred to as the Sailing Capital of the Caribbean and is surely THE place for huge sailing yachts to hang out for the winter.  And while a lot of them have already left to head back to Europe, the harbor is still packed with all manner enormous yachts.

So, in a time with so much bad news, I enjoyed touring and photographing a few of these beauties.  Here goes…

A yacht that I  have admired for a number of years now is Meteor, docked for much of the season here in Falmouth.  Launched in in the Netherlands in 2007, she is a thoroughly modern classic.   This photo of her doesn’t begin to do her justice.  This short video shows how amazing she is.  And you would expect amazing for $30,000,000. Brenda would happily shelter here in their salon.  There’s even room for a small loom.   However, I expect that the crew would freak out when she began scattering bits of yarn and fuzz around her on that beautiful white carpet. Indeed, a proper place for a nap.  And we all know that Brenda loves a good nap. 
Still want to see more about Meteor?  Follow this link.  You can even charter her.  How much?  As was once said, “if you have to ask, you can’t afford her”.   I remember racing against her in Newport a few years ago when we were invited aboard Marie for a few days of racing.   I wrote about that magical experience in this post.

Another yacht that I have long admired is Bystander, launched in 2007.  She is the “tender” to the Classic J yacht Velsheda, launched in 1933.   Bystander was designed to look the part of a proper 30s yacht.   She is a regular here in Falmouth.  Beautiful from any angle.
Brenda would love the galley.  And, if the chef chased here out, the engine room is clean enough to eat in.  An awkward segue I’ll admit but I wanted to use the photo.  Of course, she was designed to shadow the owner’s sailboat, Velsheda, launched in 1933, one of the iconic classic Js.   I am sure that she is in the harbor but I don’t have any photos of my own to post.   There’s more information at her site if you’re interested.   Imagine what it costs to keep a yacht of this scale and age, nearly 100 years old, in perfect condition. Bystander is described as an “escort vessel” offering the comforts that perhaps Velsheda doesn’t have.  Sure, if you say so.  To me, it seems a stretch to imagine that her amenities are anything but luxurious.

I have mentioned in past posts that a new trend among the uber-wealthy yachting set is to have “shadow vessels” to carry all their toys so they can avoid cluttering up the “mother ship” with all manner of stuff.   I have posted about Garcon, a shadow yacht that’s been here in Antigua for several months now.  Her name, I imagine, grows out of Garcon as in “Garcon, please fetch me another mint julep”. It appears that they were getting everything ready to head out yesterday, the chopper all set and covered for being at sea. Not certain, but Alpha Nero at 270′ long, featuring 4,000 square feet of living space, seems like the only yacht in the marina big enough to have or need a shadow yacht.  She features a large pool on the aft deck that can be converted to a landing pad for the chopper, by virtue of a hydraulically lifting bottom.   “Garcon, please fetch my chopper from Garcon”.

She is owned, you guessed it, by a Russian, Andrey Guryev, who made his fortune in phosphate.  So, this morning, off went the “mother ship”.  Garcon isn’t here now so I guess she left earlier and I missed her departure.   Interestingly, when a large yacht leaves the harbor for the season her horn is blown loudly and the remaining yachts salute her in kind.  In the silence of this morning, the salutes were particularly obvious. It’s hard to really appreciate the scale of these yachts, lined up in a row.
Except when you realize that the “little one” in the middle has someone high up surveying the rigging.  And, “amazing” doesn’t just apply to the huge yachts.   This boat says “fast” even tied to a mooring.   Shockwave has a vinyl “wrap” and yes, it really is that shiny, even up close.   She’s fully carbon and as is the case for so many performance multihulls, was built in France.  Check her site out to learn more. If you, like me, are curious about how you’d go about wraping a complex shape like Shockwave in chrome, check out this video.  And, I can tell you, that it looks perfect, even up close.  No “ten foot view” required.And, Shockwave isn’t the only speeder in the harbor.   Meet UltiMotion.  This is one high-tech machine.   I have to wonder how much the windscreen on the right really helps when the going gets rough. Imagine the loads on the main cross beam when she’s blasting along at 30+ kts.  She’s all carbon, I am sure and as I understand it, carbon doesn’t give a lot of warning when it’s going to break, it just explodes into a shower of splinters. So, here we are, hanging out in Antigua waiting for well, waiting to see what happens next.  Good thing that the hurricane season is still two months out.

That’s the good news.  The bad news is that today the National Hurricane Center announced that they expect this year’s storms to be “above normal” with four powerful storms.

All the more reason to be sure and get Pandora home.  However, we aren’t in a big hurry.  Our son Chris is adamant that we not come back too soon.   And, as much as his mother doesn’t want to make the 1,000 mile run to Florida, he REALLY doesn’t want her on an airplane ride.  His advice, “Mom, this is a once in a hundred years thing so 1,00o miles aboard Pandora really isn’t all that big a deal when you think of it that way.”  Not sure Brenda buys that logic.

So, there you have it, we are in Antigua and somebody just closed the Caribbean.

When will the door open so we can go home?  I have no idea.

Nobody does.

For many years Brenda and I have been told that we are “living the dream” to be free to sail wherever we want, whenever we want.   To be aboard Pandora for months at a time does feel, to me at least, to be a bit of a dream at times.  Brenda, on the other hand, may not always have the same view.

However, right now, as we sit here in Antigua, unable to do much of anything ashore and completely unsure how we are going to get Pandora home before the hurricane season begins in June, it is feeling like more of a nightmare than a dream.

Don’t get me wrong, we are in an idyllic spot, here in Jolly Harbor, with views each day that most will only see during a week long tropical holiday.    Today’s sunrise over the distant mountains.  Montserrat, in the distance, complete with it’s own active volcano. A couple out for a bit of early morning SUPing.Yes, all of this is wonderful but for us, but much different than in past winters, when we spent time with friends and could predict, with certainty, when and how we would be heading home in the spring.  After 7 winter seasons afloat, we have more or less, gotten into a pattern and one that has been predictable, until now.

Now the only thing that has been predictable for the last few weeks is that we can’t predict what’s going to happen at all, even a few days from now.

Every day seems to bring yet another change, often more dramatic than the last.  As an example, about an hour ago the Prime Minister of Antigua announced that a week long 24hr curfew will go into effect as of midnight tomorrow.  This means that only essential travel will be allowed, limited to food shopping or emergencies but that’s it, stay home or risk arrest.  Gatherings will be limited to no more than two individuals and no kissing on the lips.  (Ok, I made the no kissing part up.)

It has been breathtaking to see how fast predictable has given way to unpredictable.  A month ago we headed to St Lucia and the marina at Rodney Bay to spend a few days while having a new refrigeration compressor installed.  Nearly three weeks later, our plans were totally up in the air and we decided to extend our stay to a full month only to make a decision to leave abruptly and sail to Antigua two hours later.  A last minute change of plans prompted by hearing that Antigua was planning to close the island to any and all arrivals in two days.

Since we have been here, and it’s only been a few days, Antigua has gone from closing their boarders to a complete lock down.   Yesterday we went to the grocery store and to us it felt like we were courting death.  The space between the shelving felt particularly tight and it seemed like there just too many people in a small space.  We heard from friends that today there is a line out to the street, even to get into the store and no amount of social distancing to handle such crowds.

Yesterday the crowds were very light and yet we still felt very exposed, with shopper feeling like a threat and them viewing us in the same way.    One shopper, obviously a cruiser, somehow managed to touch every one of the rotisserie chickens on the shelf, trying to choose the best one.  It was all that I could do not to call him out on it.   When I came around the end of an isle, I turned the other way if it was too crowded, which always seemed to be the case.  No squeezing by for me, but as a result, so we were in the store for nearly an hour.

I’ve never been particularly good about washing my hands, but now I have become fairly compulsive about it.   The grocery store had two sinks, one on either side of the entrance so shoppers could decontaminate themselves before entering.   And, as if that wasn’t enough, I was still hand sanitizing with my own spray bottle, ever few minutes.  I read that the handle on a shopping cart has more bacteria than a public toilet.  At least my fear of virus means that I have at least one tiny thing in common with Trump.  As awkward as it is to be stuck here in Antigua, just about everyone we talk to in the US feels that we are much safer here.  It seems that in the US, every day brings increasingly bad news, with little improvement in sight.

Sure, it’s beautiful down here but I have to say that it just isn’t the same when things are so up in the air and we are so far from home.

Facebook has never been particularly high on my list but nowadays, I feel like it’s a lifeline to keep us connected with friends and family.  At least it has some humor, if often dark, to lighten the mood.

Being in such close quarters aboard Pandora, with so much uncertainty, has frankly gone better than we might have expected, and that’s good.  This short piece seems to capture the mood pretty well.    I wonder if Brenda would choose A.

So before you think “Oh, poor Bob and Brenda, stuck in paradise aboard their yacht, how sad.”  Think about how you’d feel to be “sheltering” with your partner in a space that is about the size of a bathroom as there isn’t any other option.

While some cruisers are willing to wait it out here to see what happens next, many have had their boats hauled here in Antigua and other islands and have headed home, accepting the reality that their boats may very likely be in harms way, with nearly all of the islands deep within the hurricane belt.

However, finding the best place to keep a boat tough as so many islands have completely shut their boarders.  For those wishing to keep their boats outside of the hurricane belt, Grenada and Trinidad are the only reasonable option and both are completely cut off, not allowing any new arrivals.  So, many cruisers are sitting and hoping that things will open up before the first hurricane of the season hits.

While many of our cruiser friends have headed home, they are still emailing and messaging us regularly, wanting to know how we are doing.   It’s very nice.

To that point, one good thing about the timing of this new-found isolation is that it’s happening in a year when connectivity for us is at an all time high.  Being able to call family and friends at will is making our time away, in the midst of so much uncertainty, makes things a lot more bearable.

After years of frustration in trying to find a way to stay in touch while traveling, our Google Fi phone has proven to be a God-send, allowing us to do video chats with our sons Rob and Chris and their families, nearly every day, from the comfort of Pandora.  As recently as two years ago, during our last winter afloat, we had no way to connect, beyond text and email, unless we went ashore to somewhere with strong WiFi.   With our Google service we are finding that the data on the phone is generally better than WiFi ashore.

Great connectivity comes in very handy for virtual “happy hours” in the evening family and friends, particularly our friend Craig, who is living in Detroit these days, and that’s been a nice way to have a proper evening toast on occasion.

Friends are still getting together here, albeit at a safe distance.  A popular evening pastime is to tie a few dinks together and drift around the harbor.  Out in the wind, a good distance apart, the risk is less, we hope.   However, with the new restrictions in place here in Antigua, groups of more than two are not allowed so even an outdoor drift is no longer an option and perhaps isn’t wise anyway.

Walks on the beach are a nice way to spend time.   Social distancing was very easy on this deserted beach, not far from Pandora. A peaceful moment in a world that feels anything but peaceful. A reminder, a school of tiny fish in the shallows, that life goes on, virus or not.  And its been great to have a beach nearby with decent shelling.    A pretty nice haul.We’ll have to come up with some sort of craft project to do with our granddaughter Tori using these shells.  I expect that Rhett and Emme are too young and would just try to eat them, so perhaps not a good idea just yet.  Perhaps in a year when they are three.

I will admit, that in the middle of the night, I am wondering if we are making the right decision just waiting here to see what the next month brings.  Will we be  able to do the shorter run to the US through the Bahamas, now completely closed off to cruisers not already there, or will we be forced to sail west, the 1,100 miles from the USVIs to Florida with just the two of us on board.  While the run to Florida from the USVIs is only a few hundred miles closer than a straight shot to CT, at least it’s a downwind sail and would be a lot easier on Brenda.

Better yet, will travel restrictions be relaxed so that she can fly home and crew come down to make the run north with me?   Who knows, but we are hoping that in a month, now that the administration seems to have finally taken the threat seriously and is encouraging everyone to stay home, that things will settle down and be safer for travel.

So, here we sit, trying to figure out what the best course of action is, hoping that things will improve and that we will be able to bring Pandora home with a minimum of fuss.

One thing I have been focused on, to pass the time, is finishing things that I have needed to get to but somehow have overlooked or put off.    To that point, I ran into this bit of timely advice shared by a fellow cruiser from an authority on such things…

“Heard a Dr. on TV say to get through the boredom of self isolation we should finish things we start and thus have more calm in our lives. So I looked through the boat to find all the things i’ve started but hadn’t finished…so I finished off a bottle of Merlot, a bottle of Chardonnay, a bodle of Baileys, a butle of wum, tha mainder of Valiumun srciptuns, an a box a chocletz. Yu haf no idr how feckin fablus I feel rite now. Sned this to all who need inner piss. An telum u luvum xtherIn”

Well, as goal oriented as I may be, the day is young so perhaps I’ll wait a few more hours before I work in earnest on things aboard Pandora that are not “done”.

As someone once said, “sheltering on a boat is sort of like being in a prison cell, with the possibility of drowning”.  Yeah, that’s what Brenda says and that’s when things are “normal”, and things are definitely not normal now.

All of this speculation about using crew as an alternative to just me and Brenda bringing Pandora home, is probably wishful thinking but I am really hoping that things do change.

Anyway, here we are in Antigua not knowing what the future will bring and doing our best to stay connected.

So far, so good and, to date, no sign of the virus aboard Pandora.