Sailing Agora

Tag: sailing

  • Spanish Cay: The One Where We Almost Left (summer 2025 recap)

    We were ready to go home.

    Not in a defeated way – more in the way that five weeks of Bahamian cruising will make you crave a working generator, a good rinse of the boat, and maybe a grocery store that isn’t a 45-minute trip on the dinghy away. We had a reserved slip in Georgia. We were looking at a weather window. We were on our way out. And then we had a generator that was overheating. Suddenly we were reminded that “plans” in this life can quickly become “suggestions.”

    The repair saga had been grinding on for a week. Barrett had tried replacing fuses. They all blew. So we were stuck. Not dramatically stuck – we were in the Bahamas, after all – but stuck with a ticking clock, because getting back to the States for a real repair meant not dawdling. 

    Spanish Cay made the being-stuck part easier than we expected. It’s a private island with a marina, which sounds like the setup to an exclusive and slightly intimidating experience, and instead it was just great. Quietly busy in a way that felt special. The kind of place where you look around and think: we would never have come here on purpose, and we’re really glad we ended up here. 

    The fish cleaning station alone was worth it – sharks circling for scraps every day at the same time, the kids absolutely riveted, a crowd of fellow boaters gathered around like it was the best show on the island. It was. Lobster season had just opened, and the energy around that felt celebratory in a way that’s hard to explain if you haven’t spent weeks anticipating it, unsure whether you’d be there for it.

    We met cruisers there who were also trying to time their departure, also watching the weather, also doing the mental math of how long they could stay before the window closed. There’s a specific kind of camaraderie in that. Everyone a little tired, a little ready, all of us standing on a beautiful private island being very reasonable about leaving it.

    We’d found a local guy on the island who works on the generator that powers the whole place – which felt promising, like if anyone could fix it, it was him. And he did fix it, technically. It started. It ran. It just didn’t charge the batteries, which is, as it turns out, the main thing we need our generator to do.

    We finally needed to just leave. The generator situation meant we were moving with a little more urgency than we would have liked, and the return trip to the States had its own energy: purposeful, a little bittersweet, the Bahamas shrinking in the rearview.

    But Spanish Cay was a good last chapter. Unexpected and unhurried and full of sharks at the fish station, which honestly is a pretty solid way to end a summer.

    Agora on the hook at Spanish Cay
    a frozen rum drink and the pool where we met friends, waiting for generator repair
    what a view!
    starfish and clear water
    generator wasn’t the only thing that needed repair – a fresh water pump died on us too…
    …and the bathroom shower wouldn’t drain
    but mostly the issue was the generator
    Barrett swam in sharky waters to see whether it was an issue below the waterline…
    …it wasn’t, but we needed shore power to stay charged, so we took a slip.
    Barrett spent days trying to fix the problem.
    the boys wandered
    the kids explored
    they fed sharks
    Barrett tinkered
    more sharks!
    our unexpected home for a bit
    amazing creatures
    final night at Spanish Cay Marina
    our final night in the Bahamas – we left from Grand Cay

  • Green Turtle Cay: The One That Made It All Feel Real (summer 2025 recap)

    There’s a version of this cruising life that exists in your head before you do it. The turquoise water, the unhurried days, the feeling of being exactly where you’re supposed to be. Green Turtle Cay was the first place where the version in my head and the version I was actually living balanced out.

    We’d met a family from Florida at the dock in Coco Bay, where stingrays and turtles eat out of tourists’ hands – a mix of anchorage and beach hang that defines Bahamian cruising. It was the kind of meeting that starts as a wave, an introduction, a “Cheers!” and then turns into something real before you quite notice it happening. They were generous in the way that many boat families tend to be. They were there on their center console power boat, I’s on the Prize, for vacation, not as full-time cruisers. They loaned us a spear pole before we’d really earned the right to ask for one, showed up with good energy, and had kids who matched ours in age and temperament in the ways that matter most when you’re all stuck on boats together. Different in plenty of ways, but similarly the same in the ones that count.

    The snorkeling off the dinghy was on a reef in calm water on perfect day. We just dropped in. The water was the kind of clear that makes you feel like you’re floating in air, and the reef beneath us was alive in every direction. There were sharks – just a few of them, moving through at their own pace, curious in the way that sharks in healthy water tend to be. Not scary. Just present, going about their business, occasionally glancing over at the strange creatures flapping around above them. The kids were cool about it. I (Susanna) was excited and pretending to be calm, which is basically the same thing. 

    We missed catching a fish that day. We could have speared it upon first sighting, but then our snorkel adventure would be over almost as soon as it started, so we passed on it. We learned lessons about patience and timing – both fishing and snorkeling. We came back with no fish but also no regrets.

    And then there was the beach.

    I don’t know exactly what set it off. The sunlight, maybe, or the particular shade of the water. Perhaps it was the kids playing on the paddle board while Barrett enjoyed the swing over the water. Maybe it was just the accumulated weight of weeks of actually doing the thing we’d talked about doing for so long. I was sitting there in a hammock, and it just hit me. The beauty of it. The reality of it. We were here. We had made it here. This was our life, at least for now, and it was more than I had let myself believe it would be. 

    I cried on a beach in Green Turtle Cay, and I’m not even a little embarrassed about it.

    That’s the thing about staying longer than you plan. You get past the logistics and the anxiety and the learning curve, and somewhere in the middle of an ordinary afternoon you look up and realize the life you wanted is the one you’re in.

    Next up: Spanish Cay, a broken generator, and the unexpected gift of being stuck wsomewhere beautiful.

    stingrays at Coco Bay
    a mural spotted on a walk up the hill in GTC
    GTC was about more than just playing – we did boat and life chores too. Here: propane fills.
    we enjoyed a celebratory lunch at GTC Marina
    We also did much-needed loads of laundry
    The kids with a new friend from Florida.
    Our goodbye to I’s on the Prize.
    The beach were it all finally felt real.
    The beach were it all finally felt real.
    Snorkeling from the beach.
    Abacos water is unreal,
    A SUP trip in Manjack Cay.
    drone shot over GTC
    the pool table at Sundowners – a fave hang out in GTC
    our first spear fishing excursion, mostly great snorkeling
  • Great Guana Cay: The One Where Everyone Showed Up (summer 2025 recap)

    Great Guana Cay: The One Where Everyone Showed Up (summer 2025 recap)

    There’s a certain kind of magic that happens in the Bahamas when your cruising world – which has been quietly overlapping with other people’s cruising worlds for weeks – suddenly collapses into the same anchorage during the same week. Great Guana was that place for us.

    We’d been following Driftwood’s path since Bimini, randomly. A family from South Carolina, also on a sailboat, also doing the thing for the summer. We waved at each other in an anchorage in there and then jumped into a blue hole together in the Berries – the way you do when you recognize kindred spirits and the timing just lines up. It lined up in Great Guana again.

    And then there was Peaks. We’d connected with them during our intense crossing from the Berries to the Abacos through an online sailing family community – one of those friendships that exists entirely in a group chat until suddenly it doesn’t. We’d already had a reunion of sorts down near Lynyard Cay for Fourth of July fireworks after the long passage, but Great Guana gave us the real version: Nippers beach bar, a dad taxi on their dinghy, the kids all in the water together, the kind of afternoon that stretches out in the best possible way. 

    Nippers, if you haven’t heard us mention it before, is the kind of place that shouldn’t work as well as it does. A beach bar on a tiny Bahamian island, perched over the Atlantic side, with a pool and a pig roast on Sundays and music that carries across the water. It works completely. The Driftwood crew was with us for the pig roast – and for the afternoon rainstorm that rolled in with very little warning and absolutely zero concern for anyone’s plans (including a wedding complete with rain soaked fireworks on the beach). We stood under whatever cover existed and laughed about it, which is more or less the correct response to weather in the Bahamas.

    Grabbers, on the harbor side, had its own kind of energy. A little more tucked in, but no less special, the kind of place where the afternoon just slows down while the sunsets. Our Texas friends the Scotts – we’d spotted their flag coming into Lynyard, then crossed paths again at Elbow Cay almost by accident – made it to Grabbers on a Sunday and we met them there after a quick provision stop in Marsh Harbour. There was swimming, there was jumping off things, there was a swing post that the kids felt needed to be climbed to its full height. There were good drinks and the easy comfort of people you don’t have to explain yourself to.

    It was a lot of people, a lot of overlap, a lot of happy noise. The kind of week that, when you’re living it, feels almost too full – and then you get to the other side of it and realize that’s exactly what you were looking for when you decided to do this.

    More from the Abacos coming soon. Next up: Green Turtle Cay, and the afternoon that made me cry on a beach.

    the walking path to Nipper’s
    fire on the beach at Grabber’s
    vacation mode engaged
    beautiful beach
    sunset at the swing posts
    Texans unite!
    another beautiful beach

  • A Couple of Intense Crossings: The Berries to the Abacos (Part 2)

    We woke early enough for this passage, but the weather had other plans. Conditions were stormier than predicted, and the swells were two to three times what the forecast suggested. We were in the middle of the Bahamas with no land in sight, crossing deep water that commands respect.

    Then we approached Hole-in-the-Wall, where the Atlantic meets the southern end of the Abacos, and let’s just say: that stretch is legit. Even in fair weather, the ocean there is ancient and powerful. At thousands of feet deep, the depth finder doesn’t even register. My mind went to all the places sailors’ minds go when you’re in big water: what if something breaks? What if we misread this? What if we should’ve waited?

    Conditions weren’t gnarly, just uncomfortable. And for the first time, I cried during a passage. I was tired, unsure, worried. The kids were being their usual low-key, low-energy as they do on a passage. Barrett was holding it together and helping carry the team while also feeling tired, unsure, and ready to get where we were going. 

    It was July 4th. We were leaving the Berry Islands and heading toward the Abacos. There were hardly any other cruisers around – just a couple tankers and some cruise ships. One tanker actually radioed us and altered their course because of the stormy weather and our speed/direction. I don’t want to know what that maneuver cost them (or do I?), but I’ll forever be grateful. That was our first real weather-passage experience: 16–18 knots of sustained wind, rain, then sudden calm, and then building swell again.

    Somewhere in that crossing, I realized a truth we’d been circling for months but had yet to really connect with: we don’t control the schedule. We can plan, but the wind, the weather, and Agora decide the real timeline. Yes, we’re steering this boat, but we’re also surrendering to the pace of the sea. A new definition of “cruising life” settled in on that passage.

    Eventually we reached an entrance to The Abacos near Little Harbour, but the swell made it uncomfortable, so we pushed farther north toward Lynyard Cay to meet up with a family boat we’d been in touch with through our cruising-with-kids community. We anchored in a peaceful spot, made dinner, dinghied to the beach for fireworks, and ended the Fourth of July around a fire pit with new friends. Major relaxation after a grueling day.

    The next day we decompressed, acclimated back to life on the hook instead of on the move, and explored a new string of islands. We attempted a blue hole (twice) and failed (twice) thanks to the tide changes. But we played in the water, snorkeled in swelly conditions, and connected with some boats who would weave in and out of our Bahamian adventures, eventually meeting again in Great Guana.

    Hard, beautiful, humbling. Those two crossings were ones to remember.

  • A Key West Address

    A Key West Address

    Our first morning in Key West started with phone calls home – catching up with family, showing off the new anchorage. During one call with my parents, we realized our mooring line was chafing badly. Oops. Quick fix: we swapped it for a bridle setup (probably what we should have done from the start).

    Barrett changed the oil while I tackled other chores, and then we packed up for an adventure. Dinghying over to Key West Bight, we bought a day pass to leave our wonderful dinghy, Squeasel, at the dock and hopped on a bus to the beach.

    There, we met up with friends – Megan, Jon, and their son Thomas. The plan was a beach BBQ, but another group had claimed the grill and fire Jon had started and refused to share. Classic curveball. Instead, the night morphed into sushi appetizers by the ocean, followed by dinner at their house. The kids got to play, the adults caught up, and laughter filled the evening. Sometimes the best memories come from plans gone sideways.

    Our week in Key West unfolded in a groovy rhythm – a mix of work, play, and wandering.

    Highlights included:

    • Fresh baked donuts at the docks.
    • Uniquely cruiser laundry and provisioning experiences.
    • Shopping, splash pad adventures, and long lunches.
    • Spotting horseshoe crabs in the marina.
    • Daily dolphin sightings around the anchorage.
    • Sunset after sunset that left us in awe.
    • Making phone calls on a vintage, yet functional, pay phone (for free) at Pepe’s Cafe.
    • The kids chatting with folks on the wharf, spouting fish facts as tarpon and parrotfish swirled below.
    • Meeting local artists, enjoying delicious food around town, and exploring Mallory Square.
    • A slightly rolly but beautiful Father’s Day sail north to Marathon.

    Like most of our favorite stops, this one felt like more than just a stopover – it felt like a little chapter of our story. A Key West address, even if only for a week.

  • Family of Four Journeying to Open Waters

    Family of Four Journeying to Open Waters

    An Overnight Passage: Marco Island to Key West

    On June 5, we set out for our third overnight sail – this time from Marco Island to Key West. It turned out to be our most exciting one yet.

    We pulled anchor in the late afternoon, around 5:30 or 6:00 p.m. Dinner was on the stove, Barrett was juggling some charting and kid-wrangling, and spirits were high as we pointed south. The air felt beautiful, buzzing with that mix of anticipation and nerves that comes with an overnight run.

    Storms hovered on the horizon but never touched us. I took the first shift and kept us steady, even as the weather radar lit up in the distance. Through the night we had good wind – mostly 16–17 knots, with gusts creeping into the low-to-mid 20s. The forecast hadn’t quite captured the reality: rockier, rolly seas with bigger swell than expected. It’s becoming a bit of a theme – no matter how many times we check PredictWind, the ocean writes her own script.

    Still, the sunrise was magic. After a long, intense night shift, Barrett got some rest while I took the helm and watched the sky turn from ink to watercolor. By morning, the water shifted to the stunning turquoise we’d been dreaming of – our first glimpse of the iconic Key West palette. We were giddy, knowing this was the kind of view we’d get to soak in for the next few weeks.

    Our plan was to grab a mooring ball at Garrison Bight, just around the corner from Key West Bight Marina. Protected? Yes. Pretty? …Not so much. The water was murkier there than the clear shallows we’d just passed through. But we were tired, happy, and ready to tie up.

    That’s when the real comedy began.

    Mooring Ball Grab Attempt #1: I leaned over with the boat hook to snag the mooring eye, only to find it stuck. With too much momentum, I had to let go – sending the boat hook floating away. (Thankfully, it bobbed up “stick side” first, sparing us a loss and any lectures.)

    Ball Grab Attempt #2: We lined up again, this time certain we’d nail it. Nope. Same problem. This time the hook went in the water again and started sinking instead of floating. Cue another scramble.

    Ball Grab Attempt #3: We regrouped. I took the helm alongside Barrett. He lined us up, then ran forward and grabbed position on the bow. With one last try – success! He hooked the mooring ball, secured the line, and exhaled in relief.

    Showers. Laundry. A tiki bar around the corner. Bingo (we even won!). Live music, ferrying laundry, fish-cleaning lessons. That night, we slept like rocks, grateful for our safe arrival in Key West.

  • Moving North, Feeling Grateful (and a little bit tired)

    Moving North, Feeling Grateful (and a little bit tired)

    Facts: We’re in St. Augustine, FL, and the last blog I drafted is dated 7/26/25. We’ve been to the Bahamas and back since the latest post here (6/27/25). There are many stories to tell and memories to recap. 

    Feelings: I miss writing for us, and I think daily about writing. I’ve even voice-typed drafts that I keep meaning to clean up and publish sooner rather than later. But I haven’t gotten there yet. I’ve felt overwhelmed by being behind. I’ve felt distracted and stressed by the daily operations of boat life. Things like finances, laundry, provisioning and meal prep, boat projects and repairs, logistics for ongoing and future travel, and balancing our jobs while alternating childcare, all while trying to stay present at the same time. I’ve felt disheartened by news headlines around the world, many from places I’ve called home at one time or another. 

    For now: I’m standing in the galley while some lentils simmer and Barrett is off with the boys, flying a kite to get their wiggles out. I figured the least I can do is share one timely update. 

    Here’s a brief recap, knowing that (eventually) we’ll properly document the trip with blogs galore.  

    In the past two months, we spent a week in Key West with some friends – new and old – before scurrying up the Florida Keys to spend a full week at a marina in Fort Lauderdale. Some of those days were planned, but the stay stretched longer than expected while we juggled repairs and prepped for international travel.

    We spent just over a month in the Bahamas. Five weeks we will cherish forever because it was our first extended stay abroad as a family. It was a one-of-a-kind snorkeling experience that we will all remember for a long time. It was homesickness and frustrating parenting moments. It was rough seas and surprise squalls while underway. And it was still so much more.

    There were sharks and sting rays, coconuts and conch shells, beach bars and wreck dives. We met amazing fellow travelers and the kindest locals. The water is unbelievably gorgeous – and though I will try through pictures and videos, the photos may never do justice to the natural beauty we experienced. 

    We learned a ton about living aboard, about boat ownership, and about ourselves. We laughed a lot – with joy and delirium. We cried a little bit – happy tears and some of deep sadness. Most of all, we loved each other and our time together living this dream while figuring it out as we went.

    About three weeks ago, we checked back into the U.S. at Cape Canaveral. We had a broken generator that needed fixing, and then a major hurricane was passing in the Atlantic. Again, what was expected to be a short visit at the docks turned into a two-week-long marina stay. 

    We’re grateful to be on the move again, because our plan for what remains of hurricane season has been to spend a couple of months at a protected marina in southeast Georgia. We’ve been wanting to get there over the past couple of weeks, so as fun as it’s been to explore unexpected places, this particular delay has been far less than ideal and costly – in both time and money – for the summer. 

    We’re also grateful for calm waters, for the support of friends near and far, and for the laughter and chaos of the kids along the way. It’s gratitude that keeps running through all of it – for what we’ve navigated, for the seas (calm and stormy alike), and for the chance to set some things in motion on our own terms. 

    There’s so much hope and excitement in being right here, in this moment, knowing the wind has carried us exactly where we need to be. 

    We can’t wait to reach our next harbor, where we’ll finally tie up to a dock long enough to catch our breath, take stock, and reflect on just how far we’ve come on this journey.

  • One shell of a good time

    One shell of a good time

    We arrived in Marco Island on Memorial Day, expecting to stay a few days and find a weather window to make the passage to Key West. When Friday came, we were both pretty worn out from the past week and ready to rest and explore – so we stayed put. Little did we know at the time, we were opting out of a potentially great weather window and ended up having to stick around Marco Island for another six days. 

    In retrospect, we would have left sooner than we did but our time there was good for a few reasons. It forced us to slow down, literally and figuratively – laws mandate idle speed in the bays and waterways of Marco Island. We observed wildlife and lived in the moment. It helped us settle into this cruising life and cherish the wonder on the kids’ faces, enjoying life on the hook and learning how to adapt when the weather has its plans. 

    Here are some Marco Island highlights: 

    • A significant current in the wide channel coming in from the Gulf
    • Beautiful beaches, full of shells worth staring at
    • The joy of fresh water – washing the boat and our clothes!
    • A too-shallow slip assignment in which Agora was sitting on the keel for hours when the tide went out (the marina apologized and refunded the stay)
    • Trouble finding Dolphin Tiki Bar & Grill, only to realize that their tagline is half the fun is finding us
    • Circling to find an anchorage after option one was too shallow and shifty from the river current
    • Manatees and natural beauty & a small-town feeling
    • Dolphin close enough to touch from the dinghy (we didn’t)
    • Canals for days
    • Gold Star rating: the public dinghy dock for boat parking while shopping at Winn-Dixie
  • Agora gets her groove back

    Agora gets her groove back

    After a month of the boat being out of the water for repairs, EVERYBODY here was excited to get back on the move. While we had a bit of a false start with a complicated propeller reinstall, Barrett and the team at Saunders made sure the throttle felt normal before we officially launched again. 

    We spent one night on the water near Orange Beach – for a final round of bushwackers at Pirate’s Cove, and so we could get the remaining mail deliveries on our way out of town. Carla and Keith saw us off in fabulous style with a handoff of packages in the middle of the ICW.

    We waved goodbye and blew kisses, and only some of us cried. (Spoiler: it was me, Susanna. It’s almost always me.) It was a strange, stressful, and surreal month in Alabama. Leaving Orange Beach, I felt the way I expected to feel on our initial launch from Pensacola. Relief, excitement, gratitude.

    We took an exciting trip east back toward Pensacola on Friday, May 16, in which the engine began making strange noises. Barrett diagnosed the issue as a loose (read: very worn and tired) alternator belt. So, as any normal cruising family would do, we turned the engine off and drifted for a little while as Barrett tightened the belt a bit… a couple of times. 

    It was an otherwise calm cruise down the ICW in reverse of our very first trip as a family – and we even landed in the same perfect anchorage outside Pensacola. The Big Lagoon, where it all began a month prior. We had been dragging the dinghy (aka Squeasel), so it was an easy bop over to the beach where the kids played in the surf and new friends were made. We knew the next morning would be the start of more travel, so we mounted Squeasel again, had a sunset dinner, and everyone went to bed early.

    Just one night in Pensacola, where we replaced the jib roller – the last repair from damage done on the passage, then it was on to Destin for a night. We were finally able to put the sails up for a part of the trip there. It was everyone but Barrett’s first real experience offshore, and the boys both had funny tummies. A little bout with seasickness followed by lots of rest time, but everyone was OK at the end of the trip. Destin Harbor was busy and loud during the day, but quiet and lovely during the night. Entering the channel there was our first sight of clear, turquoise water. The kids noticed, and one said, “This is the most beautiful water I’ve seen!” The entrance to the harbor has some serious shallows and shoaling, but it all turned out well coming and going.

    Following one short night in Destin, we moved right along to Panama City, where we needed to pause and spend the work week. Or at least our current work week. Since Barrett works three days a week, and I have flexibility in my work, we arrived on Monday afternoon and left on Thursday morning – so, it was also brief, but beautiful. 

    Knowing we’d stay put for a few nights, we launched the dinghy and the paddle board in Panama City for some sandcastle creations and snorkeling practice. The Lower Grand Lagoon Anchorage is nestled up against St. Andrew’s State Park, and we loved it. Quiet and still when we needed it to be, but full of nature (dolphins, hermit crabs, osprey, starfish, stingrays, and countless moon jellies). Plus other fun observations like tiki-themed pedal parties, sunset cruises, and live bait boats moored nearby. Truly a unique location. 

    We lived along the northern Gulf Coast of Florida, one day at a time. From our return to a familiar anchorage in Pensacola to a hot minute visit at what felt like Disneyland for boaters in Destin, then paradise in Panama City.

  • Sweet Home Alabama

    Sweet Home Alabama

    Greetings from Orange Beach, Alabama! The skies really are so blue here, where we’ve been waylaid for just over a month.

    We’ve worked hard lately, as parents, as partners, and as professionals, and while we knew a haul out mid-April would entail some critical boat repair, neither of us ever thought we would spend so much time in Alabama. It sort of feels like we got stuck before we even got off the starting line for cruising this year. This is all part of our life, and we wouldn’t be doing it if we weren’t flexible and able to roll with the punches. The reality is we wanted to be looking at the Florida Keys right now, and instead, we’re looking at getting past Destin.

    It hasn’t been easy, but it has been fun!

    We’ve spent hours at the beach, spotted dolphins at sunset on several occasions, dyed eggs for Easter, and celebrated Mother’s Day. We found ourselves always birdwatching, getting snuggled up on rainy days to watch family movies, and returning to a wonderful local playground and waterfront park. We have a favorite hiking trail here now, and we experienced several impressive versions a bushwacker.

    Agora spent exactly a month at a shipyard with the crew at Saunder’s Yachtworks, on the hard and getting some TLC after the delivery passage. After all the events Barrett shared in his previous posts, we needed a new cutlass bearing, a new propeller shaft, and a new shaft log. We had the pros install an emergency swim ladder, and we upgraded the bow roller to improve our anchoring system. Thankfully, the mystery engine issue worked itself out with all the prop and shaft repairs mentioned above.

    While we’ve been here, Barrett single-handedly (with phone-a-friend support, thanks Bill, Keith, & Steve) repaired the damage done by the anchor coming loose. He totally crushed the fiberglass work on a project we got an initial $10,000 quote to fix. Way to go, Barrett!!

    Agora was put back in the water on May 15 and needed time to sit before testing to make sure all the work below the waterline settled properly. We spent one night in Gulf Shores at Homefront Marina, which is connected to Lulu’s, a vibrant restaurant by Jimmy Buffett’s sister on the ICW with great live music, tasty food, and a huge sand playground for all ages.

    On the sea trial the next day, the engine seemed fine, but something still wasn’t right with the throttle. So, Agora was hauled out two more times to tweak the feathering prop, a complicated installation that apparently everyone learned something from. The third time really was the charm, and we threw the dock lines yet again!

    There are no words to express our gratitude for our Houston family friends, Carla and Keith, who happen to be living in Orange Beach at the same time as our detour here. We’ve been fortunate enough to feel at home in a little compound of two casitas and gazebos – perfect for our family of four. With access to two pools, laundry facilities, and reliable Wifi, there is truly not much more we could ask for. Thanks to our dear friends for their hospitality, including a loaned golf cart (land dinghy!) to get around and a borrowed Jeep when we needed to visit the shipyard or they insisted we explore places a little further away (hello, Flora-bama!). We are forever grateful.

    As we prepare for our biggest adventure yet, we find ourselves planning where we’ll go now – and what’s next moving forward. Stay tuned!