We took our trip to the BVIs during President’s Week, in February of 2011.  The trip was so much more than we had anticipated.  Bryson and Cindy were the most generous and entertaining hosts.  Their boat, Xanadu, is beautiful, comfortable, and spacious.  We visited all the islands in the BVIs that I had dreamed about since our honeymoon.  The weather was amazing, the island beaches were pristine, and Bryson knew all the local spots for the best snorkeling, sunsets, and happy hours.  But best of all, the children had their sea legs within minutes of getting on the boat.  They loved sailing, snorkeling, exploring, and playing together for the whole week.

Bryson finds a “friend” less than 3 hours into the trip!

The first day, I was down below unpacking. I could hear Chris and Big Bryson up on deck, talking.  Our Bryson came in and asked a question.  I started laughing and said to myself, “You know you’re on vacation with Bryson Hall when four minutes into the trip your son asks you what a cock fight is.”  It’s best I don’t get into it, but leave it to Big Bryson to know all the locals and their goings-on. The second tip-off that you’re on vacation with Big Bryson is that crazy things happen several times a day. Bryson talks to everyone he meets.  Because of this, we run into people he knows wherever we go.  We have only the loosest of plans. And if the winds blow differently overnight, a new plan is easily hatched over breakfast.  This type of flexibility seemed almost foreign to me.  Sponteneity pretty much left my vocabulary about 6,000 diapers ago.  But it inspired me to bring some of that philosophy back to our routined life at home.

We all took to living on a boat quite easily.  The kids were game for all the little differences in living on board versus living on land.  Showers are taken off the back the boat, standing on the swim platform.  The head (bathroom) has a toilet that must be pumped to flush it.  Fresh water is at a premium and must be stored in tanks on board, so usage must be limited.  Washing hands, brushing teeth, washing dishes, showers, and cooking all had to be done quickly, with no waste.  The same goes for the electric.  When the engine was running, we could charge things like the Hall’s computer, our phones, and iPods.  But we had to be careful about turning lights off, using the oven, and running the fridge.  I had optimistically brought my blow dryer and timidly asked Bryson what the chances were of me using it during the week.  I got a typical look from Bryson, the one that seems to ask, “Are you insane?”  I dropped it, and went au natural for the week.  Overall, we only had a few mishaps during the week.  On the second day, Bryson got a little seasick.  Once we got off the boat, he rested for a little while on the beach and then felt fine.  And on the last day, Reese and Chris both got stung by jellyfish.

Our adventures were everything I had hoped they would be and more.  If you are going to visit a non-tourisy place, like the BVI’s, you have to do it with someone who is practically a local.  Big Bryson knows all the harbors, all the mooring fields, many of the locals, and all the best places for happy hour.  On the first day, we sailed to the island I most wanted to see: Jost Van Dyke.  We anchored in White Bay and took the dinghy into the beach.  Looking back, I probably could have stayed there the entire week, although everything we did was amazing.  But this beach, with it’s pristine white sand, it’s casual, relaxed, “let’s chillax and party” vibe, and it’s little watering hole- the Soggy Dollar Bar, is right up my alley.  The bar, aptly named because there is no way to get to it other than swimming in from your boat, even has a tiny clothes line behind the bar to hang everyone’s wet money.

Those fortunate enough to have a dinghy ride in and “park” their boats all along the beach.  We all had a blast playing the bar’s signature game, which is a variation on the ring toss game.  They have a brass ring hanging from a rope on a tree branch.  On the tree trunk is a hook.  The object of the game is to stand 10 feet away with the ring and allow the ring to swing towards the tree and catch on the hook.  It’s not an easy game and gets progressively more difficult after each round of “Painkillers”, the signature drink of the islands.  A Painkiller is a yummy drink concocted from rum, freshly ground nutmeg, and some kind of orangy mix of juice and other stuff that I never felt the need to investigate further.

The kids were happy playing on the beach, although we didn’t realize at the time that they were being devoured by sand fleas and would be scratching at the bites for the rest of the week.  We took a walk to see the rest of this harbor town, visiting a partially built ship that is being built by local schoolchildren in an effort to keep the history of island boatbuilding alive.  Later that night, we put the kids to bed and Cindy stayed on the boat to babysit while Big Bryson, Chris, and I went to Wendell’s birthday party.  It was a lot of fun, with lots of Bob Marley playing and reggae dancing, and a curious fellow with a video camera circa 1990, taping every minute of the party.

The next day, Bryson treated us to yet another part of Jost Van Dyke: Little Bay.  Lesser frequented, it is the home of Foxy’s Taboo, the restaurant owned by Foxy’s (lesbian) daughter-thus the name, so we were told.  It is an interesting natural location.  Part of the harbor is calm and protected.  The other part of the harbor is separated from the ocean only by a small sandbar.  The water crashes over the sandbar and creates a wicked current.  As opposed to the smooth, white sand beaches on the rest of the island, the beach here is made up of shells and tiny bits of branch coral.  Difficult to walk on, it is nonetheless beautiful and unique.  We spent some time searching for shells with which to make a collage.  One of the bars back on White Bay is literally COVERED in shells.  Everyone is invited to bring a shell collage to hang, if only they can find an empty spot on the wall, ceiling, or porch to hang it!

After our shell-seeking, we took an action-packed hike, where we saw cacti, climbed over fallen branches, used our trailblazing skills to follow the “marked” path, and met some nice people.  Typical Bryson style, we had a crazy adventure that tops it all.  He paused on the path and crouched down at a rock.  He said, “What’s that?” and pointed to a furry lump under the rock.  We all backed up (except him), assuming it was some dead animal or something dangerous and under the heading of “Things Not To Touch While On A Nature Hike”.  So of course, Bryson says, “I think it’s alive,” and started poking it.  We’re all screaming at him to stop, but it jumped a little, which made its leg stick out.  He grabbed the leg, despite our violent protestations, and dragged the animal out from under the rock.

He held up the wiggling animal and there was a collective “Awwwww!!!!!” as we all realized that Bryson had found a baby goat.  In fact, it was such a newborn that it still had its umbilical cord attached!  It was so cute and loved being held by Bryson.  We still couldn’t believe that he would just pick up a wild animal on the side of the woods, but we quickly fell in love with the little guy.  We didn’t see the mother goat anywhere and were concerned that the goat had been lost or abandoned.  Bryson put him up near the top of the hill and, in the distance, we saw the mother turn her head, following the sound of the bleating.  We couldn’t believe that he could stand up on those tiny little legs, but he was in a safe place when we left him.

At the top of the winding mountain, we were rewarded with one of the most special places we had ever seen.  The Bubbles is a natural swimming hole, at the top of the mountain, created by ocean waves crashing through a cut in the rocks.  Over thousands of years, the water cut away at the side of the mountain, creating a small area where the waves could come through at an alarming speed and fury.  The power of the water cut out a small swimming hole, where the brave can bathe while trying to withstand the force of the next set of waves.  The waves are so strong that the water froths and bubbles-thus the name.

We enjoyed exploring the lagoon, climbing the rocks around the swimming hole, and allowing the waves to throw us around.  Porter was content with finding shells and other beach treasures to decorate his new friend, a coconut he found with holes that made it look like a face.

On the way back down the mountain, we found the baby goat still waiting for his mother, but she was almost to him and he was very excited (and obviously hungry) once she reached him.  We don’t know if she put him under that rock to protect him while she was off finding food or if he had gotten lost and was hiding under the rock.  The other babies were with her when we saw her off in the distance.  But it all ended well and we will never forget our little friend from Jost Van Dyke.

When we sailed away from Jost Van Dyke, I knew I’d be back someday.  And now that day may be just about a year from now!

In my last post, I began describing our sailing trip aboard s/v Xanadu.  Our next stop is Guana Island, just north of Tortola and east of Jost Van Dyke.  Monkey Point is the well-known landmark when navigating through the BVI’s, but White Bay is a small harbor facing west.  On our way to Guana Island, Bryson pointed out Cane Garden Bay, to the south, which is located on Tortola.  His description of it made me want to go there instead.  It sounded like a vibrant, cool place, with lots of restaurants, live music, and locals meeting up to drink and dance.  But we were headed to White Bay, and I was just the tiniest bit disappointed that we would be missing all the action at Cane Garden Bay.  That disappointment lasted all of one second.

As we approached the harbor, I noticed – well – nothing.  No boats.  No buildings.  No people.  Just the most pristine stretch of beach I have ever seen, with just the blue of the water in front of it, and the slightly lighter shade of blue sky above it.  A few perfect palm trees rounded out the view.  I felt like I was sailing into a postcard.  Imagine having what seemed like an entire island to yourself.  We anchored and swam in to the beach with the kids.  I noticed there was not a single foot print in the smooth sand.  I laid down on the sand and felt its warmth as I looked up at the gorgeous blue sky above me.  I had no intention of ever leaving that spot.  If you go to Google Maps and type in “Guana Island, British Virgin Islands”, you can see the island via satellite view.  You will see what I’m talking about.  The white of the beach is almost blinding.

The kids were having a blast playing in the sand.  I pried myself off the sand so we could take a long walk to one end of the beach where we finally saw another family.  There were a few more boats in the harbor now.  We smiled at each other, but we were both happy to move on our way, not wanting to disturb the feeling of being in your own private reality for an afternoon.  There was a lot to see in the brush and vegetation and we found some rock formations, which created a haven for miniature waterfalls, fields of moss, and tiny tide pools for little sea creatures.

We walked all the way to the other end of the beach, and finally saw some civilization.  There was a small resort community tucked back beyond the trees.  It reminded me a little of Gilligan’s Island, they way their huts were back beyond the lagoon.

Before leaving White Bay on Guana Island, we did some snorkeling.  I’m not the best snorkeler.  I can swim, but the Darth Vader sound effects disturb me a little.  The sound of my breathing makes me feel like I’m in a horror movie where the dumb swimmer who is snorkeling alone is about to get ripped to shreds by a pack of sharks.  Just thinking of that makes me start to breathe faster and more shallowly, which reminds me of how the music in Jaws gets faster and faster right before the attack.  Did I mention my astigmatism, which makes my depth perception even more skewed under water?  Basically, razor sharp coral that is 15 feet below looks like it is about to scrape my face, so I end up trying to swim without allowing my legs, feet, or arms to dip below the top three inches of water.  Other than that, I love snorkeling!

Seriously, though, I am trying to get more comfortable with it.  The world under the sea is so incredibly beautiful and makes what we’ve done above it seem like a crying shame.  It’s nice to be down there, realizing that so much of the earth still has oceans and reefs and this whole ecosystem within it.  (If I was a political blogger, I’d go off on a tirade here about saving our oceans and beaches, but I’d rather we all just skip the lecture and do what we can, when we can, to keep our oceans beautiful and healthy.  Thanks!  Please see my good friend Michael’s Public Service Announcement about keeping our beaches and oceans clean: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ptBEWzA_Q_8 )

As we left Guana Island, I looked back at the postcard and took some photos, wanting to remind myself often that this place really does exist.  I will be back again, to try to solve the puzzle of which is bluer – the sky or the water?  In the meantime, it is there right now, warming some lucky, lucky soul as he or she is cradled by the sand and lulled into a swoon by the gentle sound of the wind.

p.s. We do end up back at Cane Garden Bay on our last night in the BVIs.  Stay tuned for THAT story….

written March 2011

About midweek on our BVI trip last month, I started talking about the “year away” idea with Chris, Bryson, and Cindy.  Chris knew I was serious, but I believe Bryson and Cindy thought I was just having one of those “I wish vacation could last forever” moments.  As the week went on, and we consumed more and more Painkillers, the conversations turned into planning sessions.  What kind of boat to get?  Bryson had all kinds of advice.  What would we miss from the mainland?  Cindy told us about the lack of decent hair salons.  In my downtime on the boat, I started making lists of what would have to occur to make this dream come true.  When I told Big Bryson at Pirate’s Bight that I might try earning “rum money” by writing articles for a magazine or writing a book, he said, “The way you drink, you won’t need much.”  I guess that was a compliment, but it didn’t sound like one when he said it…

When we returned to New Jersey, I tried to see if Chris was onboard.  (sorry for the pun.  Given the proliferation of nautical-based terms in our language, it probably won’t be the last time.)  He had been excited while we were away, but now he was completely skeptical.  Once we got home, making this crazy thing happen seemed like a pipedream to him.  The overwhelming need to be a provider for a family of five is a pretty strong argument against throwing caution to the wind and taking off for a year to experience the world.  Well.  Depending on who you are.  Chris is Mr. Dependable.  Mr. Provider.  Mr. Checks the Weather Channel (and NOAH just in case) the Night-Before-We-Do-Something-That-Involves-Being-Outside.   I started to think that talking him into this was going to be more difficult than I imagined.

So I brought in the big guns.  I got him to research boats!  Chris loves to shop online for deals.  I gave him a challenge.  Find a boat that is reasonable, safe, comfortable, and not located in Southeast Guam.  Well, he’s been busy with that for the past two weeks while I get the rest of the planning “underway” (sorry).  I’ve made a Pro/Con list.  I’ve talked to a Bergen County Superintendent to understand homeschooling laws.  I’ve subscribed to several blogs written by families who are cruising and boatschooling.  I’ve made an appointment to find out how much it would cost to store our belongings for a year if we end up renting our house out while we’re gone.  I’ve read countless websites about cruising, buying boats, provisioning (the nautical term for buying and storing food on a boat), homeschooling/boatschooling, renting your house for a year, and various other related topics.  (By the way, has anyone noticed how amazing the Internet is?)  Chris’ tasks are to find a boat and figure out who will do his job while we’re gone.

Tonight I bought Dove, by Robin Graham- a book that apparently inspired a whole generation of cruisers, sailors, and adventurers.  In a super “The Secret/Power of Positive Thinking” moment, I also ordered Lesson Plans Ahoy!, a book about boatschooling. If you haven’t seen “The Secret”, you must do it now.  In the spirit of sending positive energy out into the world, the idea is to get what you want by thinking about what you Want-not what you Don’t Want.  Seeing your dream is key, so we have a bulletin board in our bedroom and we are posting images that support our goal of sailing for a year.

The hardest part for me is keeping it to myself.  For obvious reasons, we don’t want to talk about our plan until it becomes more of a reality.  I told my acupuncturist, who would have figured it out anyway with his voodoo magic Jedi Mind Trick intuition.  I told my life coach, since I need her advice on how to keep Chris moving towards untethering himself from society’s strong anchor (sorry).  And I told one friend in NJ and a friend in California, because I just couldn’t help it.

The people we told have been supportive, although I’m not sure one of them completely understands.  Maybe you the reader don’t understand yet as well?  It goes beyond a love of the ocean or a  love of sailing, although that is a huge part of it.  When you have this type of connection to the water, you become a natural adventurer.  You want to be in nature.  You want to see more of it.  When you sail, you experience the unique feeling of moving through the ocean by harnessing the powerful wind.  It’s awe-some.  It’s wonder-ful.  And when you’re living a typical suburban life as an atypical individual, you sometimes get a serious Charles Ingalls type of hankering to go west.  Or in my case-South.  (I promise you that will NOT be the last Little House on the Prairie reference.)  In essence, I feel most at home when I am on the water.

The beautiful thing about having a dream is that now that I’ve imagined myself living it, I’m already enjoying the gifts our new lifestyle has to offer.  Once I was able to visualize what a year on a sailboat would look like, I realized that I am able to make some of it happen RIGHT HERE and RIGHT NOW.  If thinking and dreaming about this year enabled me to see what my priorities would be in an “ideal” situation, then why can’t I apply those priorities to my life today?  I can see us all on our new boat, all together, sailing away on a beautiful, sunny day, the water glistening all around us.  I am feeling free and joyous in my life here and now, because I have come in touch with the part of me that wants to live freely and joyously.  I have been closer with Bryson, Reese, and Porter- playing with them and teaching them new things.  This is a result of contemplating how wonderful it will be to live in close quarters with them.  I imagine that living on a sailboat would be about simplification.  Moving away from the strain of multitasking.  So I am continuing my commitment to simplification right now.  I am trying so very hard to limit my multitasking, which is so impossible that I’d be happy if I was only doing two things at once instead of three or four. (When you realize that it’s 7:05am and you are simultaneously using the loo, changing the toilet paper roll, answering questions about what your son should wear to school, and checking out the window to assess the current weather status, you are DOING TOO MUCH AT ONCE. Can you imagine the electric currents in your brain during such a moment?  “Release your pelvic muscles!”  “No! Divert eyes to bright spot outside window and note wind movement in trees!”  “NOO!!!!  Me first!  Which pants are clean and hanging in Bryson’s closet?  Tell him the navy ones with the green t-shirt!” “Now hold on just a cotton-picking minute guys!  This toilet paper roll isn’t going to change itself.  Do you know the manual dexterity required to turn the upper torso at a ninety degree angle and push in the rod without springing it halfway across the floor, clattering like a pyramid of teacups just crashed?”)  But I digress.  Multitasking-too much.  Working on simplification.  Got it.