The day dawned bright and clear. I must confess that I am one of the last ones to rise; I guess that goes with being one of the last to bed. It’s about 60º when the sun comes up and it feels so much better to be under the covers than out and about in my shorts. Besides, if I dawdle a bit, some kind soul may have the caffeinated coffee finished. Since some of us have strong feelings about decaf, we have to prepare coffee in shifts.
Before we left Honeymoon Cove there was time for another hike. We headed the dinghy to a different spot than where we started yesterday, but the hike ended up taking us to the top of the same hilltops. The views were spectacular once again and somewhat different in the morning light. The 72 year old twins were like mountain goats, but we much younger lardos from Illinois opted to start back. We lost the trail and ended up skiing down the steep, rocky hillside. I did most of it on my buns. We climbed in the dinghy and motored to the next cove to pick up the rest of the hikers. We didn’t get far and the engine died. We rowed the rest of the way and I added a good upper body workout to the one the legs had just gotten. It turned out that one of the gas lines had not been attached properly and the engine wasn’t getting any fuel. An easy problem to remedy thank goodness, since the dingy will be the transportation for exploring the nooks and crannies on the way back.
An afternoon sail supplemented by motor brought us to Aqua Verde (green water) - an aptly named spot. It has a gorgeous sand beach and picturesque rock formations. The water was warm and some of us snorkled. A short dinghy ride away we came to a so called town. It was a ramshackle collection of buildings and seemed to have more goats than human residents. But we happened upon a group of fishermen who were happy to sell us a bit of their catch. We rushed the fish back to our boat since good refrigeration seemed to be an issue for them as well as for us. We have a little grill on board and the fish turned out great. As the sun set the waters around us boiled again with huge schools of small fish. I had snorkled through them in daylight and they looked a dull brown, but in low light they flashed like little beacons. The metallic surfaces of many fishing lures suddently made a lot more sense.
I am surprised by the number of other sail boats we are encountering here, doing pretty much the same things we are. Last night there were two other boats in our bay and five more near the beach a short distance away. We are here at the beginning of the low season, but the sea is still on the cool side and the air temps have been perfect - no need for A/C or furnace. As a rookie I have no way of knowing how typical our boat is, but I have a hard time imagining living on it full time as many of the foks we run into are doing. Keeping food cool is a definite challenge since the frig and freezer don’t seem to accomplish much. I’m not sure whether the engine must be on for them to work well, but if we ran the engine all the time, we’d have to worry about running out of gas. Traveling with seven other people and having lots to listen to on my Ipod, it’s easy to keep the mind occupied. Many of the boats we encounter have just one couple onboard and they are here for months at a time. I would miss the stimulation and activity living near a big city provides. To each his own.