As it were, we've come to the last chapter of our Caribbean adventure. We fly home from Panama City in just under 3 weeks. It's been an incredible adventure and I'm trying not to take a moment of the time we have left for granted, but between you, me, and the mast - I am homesick. I miss my house. And dirt. And my nephew. And my chickens. (Although since we've been gone Zona ate two of them and one of my silkies kicked the bucket while sitting on her nest. That leaves only one. Hmmm.)
We're in Roatan about to throw the mooring line and slog to weather* for the better part of the next 50 hours. Joy. I won't lie; I'm not looking forward to it. The good news is the Miami Grandparents are here in all their infinite maritime wisdom, enduring patience and extensive experience slogging to weather. Thanks for coming out to help us get back to Panama, guys. The other good news is I'm smarter now and I've already administered the scopolamine patch to the back of my ear. Hopefully, that will render me at least halfway useful over the next two days. If not, Gramma Connie is here to make sure that everyone is drinking water and wearing their life jackets. Plus the tuna is made and stashed in a tupperware, the ginger ale is chilling in the cockpit cooler, and the barf bucket is conveniently located for all to use. Please send a plea to Neptune on our behalf for calm seas and favorable winds (less than 20 knots, if you please). Next stop is the Vivarillos Islands with a lovely beach and great fishing but absolutely no facilities and even less internet. After that we'll press on to the Columbian island of San Andres where we'll spoil ourselves rotten with cold showers at Nene's, pizza and shameful quantities of ice cream. From there we'll have another big crossing to the San Blas Islands of Panama. Then it's smooth sailing and party time with the cousins in the islands. One night and a birthday dinner for Grandpa and Emerson in Panama City and then we're on a flight home. Oh heavenly airplanes. What a delightful way to travel.
Thanks for coming on this adventure with us. It's been fun having you along. Signing out 'til San Andres. We'll meet you there.
Long live scopolamine,
*Slogging to weather: Sailing (read: motoring) against wind, waves and currents in a generally miserable "up stream" grind. Barf.