Sailing Agora

Tag: travel

  • 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.

  • From The Keys to Bimini: Four Stops Before the Big Hop

    From The Keys to Bimini: Four Stops Before the Big Hop

    We left Key West on Father’s Day – the kind of morning that felt like a channel marker. A quiet “here we go” moment after months of planning, packing, unrooting, and re-rooting ourselves into boat life. Agora pointed east, the twins munching snacks in the cockpit, and the Straits of Florida stretching out like a long blue road. It was a rocky first part of the day with unexpected swells and both kids feeling sick before we moved further toward shore and found comfortable positioning in the Hawk Channel. 

    Anchored Outside Marathon: Just Us & the Stillness

    Our first night after Key West was an anchorage outside Marathon. Quiet and still, it was a pocket of calm where it felt like we were the only people anywhere for miles. No dinghy rides, no shore runs, no errands – just the gentle reminder that this life can be slow when it wants to be.

    I don’t think we realized how quickly that stillness would evaporate.

    Rodriguez Key: New Friends, a Mackerel, & a Packed Anchorage

    The next day brought Rodriguez Key – and our first “race,” if you can call it that, with another sailing family aboard Paradise II. Thank goodness for open radio channels and a growing community of folks sailing with kids. 

    Somewhere in the friendly chaos, we caught a mackerel. The kind of catch that makes everyone cheer, even if it’s not going to win any size contests.

    The anchorage that night was crowded by comparison at that point. Boats sprinkled about like everyone had gotten the same memo and decided Rodriguez Key was the place to be. Or maybe it was just one of a few anchorages along that route. 

    No Name Harbor: Miami’s Chaos Meets Our Floating Home

    Then came No Name Harbor, right outside Miami. Miami boat culture is… an experience. Let’s say we witnessed an educational range of powerboat behavior. Speed limits? Optional. Awareness of anchored boats? Debatable. But the water was warm, the sun was generous, and the current was strong. 

    We stuck around for a few days. Dinghied into the harbor. Walked the sandy path with iguanas and herons like extras in our private nature documentary. Ordered groceries via Instacart and somehow experienced 50% convenience and 50% comedy and 100% human. Ate at the little harbor restaurant and reveled in the simple magic of not doing dishes.

    It felt like a tiny pause before the next push.

    Fort Lauderdale: Inlets, Party Boats, & My Hardest Weekend Yet

    Leaving Miami meant entering Port Everglades at Fort Lauderdale – our busiest inlet so far. Boats seemed to be everywhere. Party barges weaving between fishing vessels. Vessels that fit under the drawbridge shooting through while we held position and waited for the bridge to raise. I swear Agora held her breath with us. Shoutout to Barrett for his composure, experience, and general calm/cool/collectedness.

    We tied up at Bahia Mar, a marina with its own little ecosystem: laundry, showers, a pool, walking distance to the beach, and a sense that maybe we could pause again after being fully on the move for weeks. 

    And then Barrett left for Dallas to attend a family funeral.

    It was my (Susanna) first weekend on the boat alone with the twins in a long time. No emergencies. No disasters. Just the reality that this life – beautiful and freeing and transformative – is also demanding. And doing it solo, even briefly, can wring you out.

    I was tense. Tired. Probably annoyed more often than I needed to be. (I’ve learned so much since June about pacing myself emotionally.) When Barrett came back, I think relief hit me in a way I didn’t even know I’d been holding in.

    We reset. Regrouped. Did some boat prep we needed to do.

    Because next up was the part we’d been dreaming about:

    Our first Bahamas crossing.

  • 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.

  • Hairy legs and a constant state of camp clean

    Hairy legs and a constant state of camp clean

    Cruising life is testing the limits of my vanity (and teaching me new ones). 

    When we lived at the marina, water was easy – we could refill our empty tanks with no issue. Agora is a racer-cruiser sailboat that leans toward racer, so we don’t have many of the amenities traditional cruiser boats do, like solar panels, dinghy davits, or a watermaker.

    We’re extra conscious of water usage – it means minimal soaping, saltwater rinses when possible, and short showers. Shaving is a luxury, and when it happens, it’s logistical. Still, I’ve joked for years with Barrett that I’m a lady of luxury. 

    Here’s the truth about life at sea: we do have hot days, salty skin, and limited water. But we don’t go to bed dirty or forsake hygiene for happiness. We live in a constant state of camp clean.

    It’s kind of like glamping. It’s not “we have company coming” house clean, but it’s not fully off-the-grid middle-of-nowhere living either. (Though it is closer to the latter.) We’d love to install a watermaker onboard someday, but it’s a pricey project we’re not prioritizing yet. Sometimes Barrett and I have to choose between a full French press of coffee or two bags of tea. And that’s OK.

    In the meantime, we get the dishes mostly done every day – and completely done in a big batch the next morning. There’s salt on every surface, but the sun dries things quickly. 

    This chapter is teaching us to be more connected to our bodies and the earth. To feel less vanity and more freedom. I hope it’s doing the same for the kids – though they don’t have the same societal norms burned into their brains yet.

    Messy today looks different than it did eight months ago, but there’s not much in our boat life that looks the same. Most things look better.

    One thing Barrett and I reflect on often is how grateful we are for our time living at the marina before heading out to cruise full-time. That’s how we got to know the boat, its systems, Agora’s quirks, and our rhythms. Our priorities haven’t changed much – they’ve just come into better focus.

  • 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!