Modified, Limited, Hangout
Living on the anchor and waiting for a weather window...
It’s been a steady cycle of wind, rain and occasional sun here in Palm Beach. The other day was chilly enough I contemplated putting on socks. All the locals swear this is crazy weather and not normal. I refrain from suggesting the new normal may be the abnormal. You know, climate change and all.
In any case, enduring the craziness is my own fault. This past week I bailed on a brief weather window to get to the Bahamas, partly because I have been hoping for a lengthier window that will allow me to make a jump south to at least the Berry Islands, or even Georgetown in the Exumas, as opposed to the quick jump to nearby West End on Grand Bahama. And partly because I hadn’t really spent enough time in Palm Beach, and I still had a few bits and bobs I wanted to sort out before departing for two months of exploring remote Bahamas cays. For a minute there, it looked like a great window would open at the end of last week. But that forecast quickly evaporated into a return to the usual parade of fronts that only crack open the window before slamming it shut again.
Picking the right weather, especially when crossing the Gulf Stream, requires a patient frame of mind. And I am patient. But I can tell that it won’t be long before I start to get a little itchy to get going again. And that means I will eat whatever the cook serves, instead of insisting on a delicious vegan curry. If that means means snacking on the banality of a short hop to West End, where the weather is pretty much the same as Palm Beach, so be it.
In the meantime, I have been doing boat projects and enjoying Lake Worth, which is a fine, protected anchorage. I dropped my hook just across from the opulent and active Sailfish Club Of Florida, so close that I have been enjoying some free wifi (they can definitely afford to be generous). In exchange, I have on occasion given their outdoor bar a fine view of my drying laundry, and my semi-naked self. Piles of money can buy many things, but it can’t guarantee a pristine view across a public anchorage.
As it has been everywhere else, ripping current that reverses 180 degrees with the ebb and flood of the tide, is a feature of Lake Worth. But also plenty of space to swing if you pick a good spot. There must be well over a hundred boats hanging out here, in one vast, floating community. And, like other cruising communities I have encountered so far, everyone is refreshingly friendly and helpful. My immediate neighbor, Bernard, for example, didn’t hesitate to come by and let me know that he has a car at the sailing club and he’d be happy to take me with him for provisioning and other chores ashore. That’s just how people are in the floating village, and it is an especially fine attribute of cruising culture.
Lake Worth’s only notable flaw—apart maybe from having no community pumpout boat (you can guess what that means)—is lack of shore access by dinghy. The Palm Beach Sailing Club normally offers visitor passes for $30 a day, which ain’t cheap (to be fair, they look like they could use the money). But in addition to a dinghy dock it includes access to the bar, restaurant and showers, so I could probably talk myself into it if it were available. Which it is not, because they are repairing their docks. Despite a concerted effort, and multiple creative proposals on my part, the club secretary has stood firm and I haven’t been able to wangle any sort of a deal. So I’ve been leaving the dinghy on the beach of the public park immediately next door to the sailing club, which is slightly less secure. That hasn’t been a problem so far. In any case, I am always mildly reassured by the belief that I probably have the least desirable dinghy (inflatable, with a low power outboard) an any random dinghy gathering.
One feature of my anchor location is a constant parade of superyachts entering and exiting Palm Beach via the channel that lies between me and the Sailfish Club. Most are in the 150-200 foot range, I’d guess. I’ve seen superyachts all up and down the East Coast. But I have never seen so many in one place. The shoreline they are gliding past is lined with similarly extravagant houses, many in the $20-million plus range. Having all this next door is an interesting and poignant reminder that there is world out there in which climate change doesn’t really exist, sea-level rise won’t really happen, Trump is just a neighbor, and no evolution of culture and lifestyle is deemed necessary. It’s shocking but not shocking. A crystallization of all the elements of human ambition, desire, and narcissism that have taken our planet to an uncertain and perilous place. The only thing I am certain of is that no one on the other side of the channel will be interested in changing anything until the seas are inundating their hot tubs, soaking their backyard putting greens, and lapping across their polished marble floors. And even then they will probably just hop into a private jet and fly off to a ranch in Montana. Percy Bysshe Shelley would weep.
Nixon history buffs will have caught the historical allusion in my use of the phrase “modified, limited, hangout” up top. I am repurposing it for cruising use, to mean waiting for a weather window that may, or may not, ever come. A Godot Window, perhaps? The ephemeral nature of these concepts perfectly fits the mentality required for long-term (and safe) cruising. You have to let go of goals, plans, and schedules, let go of the future, and focus instead on making the best use of whatever moment you are in.
When you can do that, you can be at peace with the world (and the weather). You can fix things, write things, cook things, and read. You can think and let your mind wander. You can watch boats and squalls scud by. You can even watch some NFL playoff football with free wifi while listening to the rain bounce off the cabintop. The modified, limited, hangout is a state of being, and will offer up a good window to cross the Gulf Stream to the Bahamas. Eventually. Probably.
Great Cruising Read: David Crosby, his iconic schooner, and what it took for Crosby to let her go. (Link)
Moment Of Zen: These dolphins are definitely making the most of a moment (click on image for video):
If you liked this post from Sailing Into The Anthropocene, why not subscribe here (free!), and/or hit that share button below? You can also find me on Instagram and Twitter.
I’m loving your writing Tim. We’re fairly cold here in Glandore but still getting into the water every now and then for the quickest of swims.
Key West (touristy and crowded) left Jimmy Buffet behind long ago. But Jimmy Buffet vibes are good with me! Coincidentally, there is a big cruise ship called "Margaritaville" that is part of the Buffett business empire that is based here in PB. Comes in and out every 3-5 days. Some days, when the weather is rough and gray, I almost pity the passengers. Almost--as I am not a big fan of the cruise ship industry.