Bermuda

Our four week stop in Bermuda had a little of everything. We kicked back and played tourist with my dad and his partner, Jeane, for a week—visiting caves, beaches, shops, and sampling food at different restaurants. We hauled the boat out of the water and spent a week and a half in the boatyard getting a new paint job. And we spent a lot of time hunkered down on the boat while it rained. And rained. And rained some more. We were guests at a family’s house for dinner one night, a much-needed break from boatyard life, and guests at a swanky beachside country club for an afternoon.

The first job when we arrived in Bermuda: wash all the salty, damp, dirty clothes and linens.

Over the course of a month, I interacted with a lot of people and everyone had questions for me. Most yachties stop in Bermuda for less than a week—just a brief respite in the west -> east Atlantic crossing—and it seemed like many local residents hadn’t had the chance to really chat with this migratory group of humans. I was more than happy to answer questions about our lifestyle and what it is like to be at sea for long stretches of time. Conversely, I was fascinated to learn about life on a small island in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. The socioeconomic history, race relations and the island’s historical relationship with the slave trade and Portuguese fishermen, the current income disparities between the foreign investors and workers and the Bermudians, cost of living, feelings of isolation, raising kids on a rock, and so much more. Everyone I met was interested in what we were doing and were equally happy to share stories from their lives. Traveling like snails, with our home on our back, we have the luxury to settle in wherever we travel and have deep experiences with each place.

The Bermuda day parade was still on, despite torrential rain. Bravo to the participants for dancing, with smiles, through the downpours.

We did have a few sunny days in St. George's.

We had a few days with Hans before he flew to Wisconsin to work and then my dad and Jean came to visit for a week. We had a blast. They were good sports with the less than ideal weather and even though we had to carry rain jackets everywhere, we made the best of our time together. It’s always fun to share with friends a family a little glimpse of how we live and it’s always fun for us to take a break from normal chores and be on a mini-vacation.

Waiting with the taxi drivers at the airport.

Visiting a pink sand beach on our "sunniest" day.

Traveling from St. George's to Hamilton via a ferry. Grampy with his girls.

The anchorage at St. George's got pretty tight as late May/early June is the prime time to sail from Bermuda to the Azores.

A park in downtown Hamilton.

St. George's

Fantasy Caves. Truly incredible.

A funny limerick at the Swizzle Inn.

After my dad’s and Jeane’s visit, I moved PW down to Hamilton, about a 20 mile sail. I planned to move the boat on a Sunday, the day before the haul out and we miraculously had sunshine and a perfect northerly breeze. It was a beautiful, relaxing, warm, and dry sail. We anchored off the boat yard and spent the afternoon lazing around the boat in the sunshine and even went for a quick swim. (The water was only 20 C so not super warm.)

More rainy days in St. George's.

And finally sunshine, just in time for our sail to Hamilton.

Hard at work taking selfies while sailing.

Al fresco dinner for the first time in weeks.

The next morning the yard owner, Brian, and his right-hand man, Matthew, came out in their skiff to guide us into the yard. Matthew, thankfully, drove PW for me since the cove where the yard is located is the tightest mooring field I’ve ever seen. I definitely did not feel comfortable motoring amongst so many boats. Local knowledge always happily accepted! PW was hauled without incident and power washed for almost three hours. It’s a lot easier to get growth and old paint off with a power washer than sanding by hand! We were blocked late in the afternoon and I chatted with Matthew and Charlie about the painting plan. We wanted the waterline raised in order to avoid growth on the bare aluminum. A pretty simple job but labor intensive. First, drawing the straight line and then five coats of epoxy barrier paint to prevent any bottom paint from coming into contact with the aluminum.

Matilda working on her own boatyard project.

Living on the hard is no fun, but this was the best boatyard experience I’ve ever had. Everyone was friendly, from the yard workers to the contractors to other boat owners. People stopped to introduce themselves to me and to chat about our boat and our travels. There was zero, ZERO, typical boating sexism, chauvanism, or macho boatyard swagger. This was the first time I’ve actually been treated—dare I say it?—like an equal at the boatyard. Nine times out of ten my experiences in the boatyard fall along these lines: comments directed to Hans while I’m equally involved in the boat work, covered in dust or grime, wielding a power tool, “where’d you find her?” Or “you’re a lucky guy, better hang on to her,” etc. etc. Also heard, “where’s the captain?” Or “maybe you should call the boss.” Infuriating to say the least, but I’ve grown used to it, among many other sexist comments and experiences in the boating world.

Similarly, the kids were not only welcomed, but seemed to be encouraged at the yard. It was as if they were expected to run amok—to move planks to make a fort and use spray paint (in appropriate places) with abandon. They were never told to be careful, they were never told that they were in the way, and the only comments directed to me about the kids was that they were good kids and seemed to be able to entertain themselves. At one point a couple of the workers even propped up a ladder for them so they could climb onto a (low) roof. I later learned, through many conversations, that this free-range attitude to the kids is par for the course in Bermuda. It’s a small island and kids are expected to be able to operate a small boat by the time they’re ten and roam free until dinner-time. All adults watch out for all kids, and all kids respect all adults. It takes an island, maybe?

Visiting the aquarium and zoo.

Biggest grouper ever!

Washing the dishes, boatyard style.

Fort Hamilton. They've turned the fort into a gorgeous park with picnic tables and the moat is a veritable botanical garden.

Wednesday night harbour nights in downtown Hamilton.

The bad weather was the talk of the town the whole time we were in Bermuda.

As an added bonus, we had two different people drop off boxes of fresh, local veggies for our passage to the Azores. They asked what kind of veggies we like and then sourced to local, organic farms. We left the yard absolutely brimming with produce.

Despite the family atmosphere at the yard, I was more than happy to splash and get back to life on the water. Charlie, our primary painter, did a fantastic job on the bottom. The new waterline is straight, the paint was applied thoroughly and with precision, and he got a lot of coats on. Hopefully it’ll give us two years.

We sailed back to St. George’s where we needed to check out of the country and prepared to leave the following day. No rest for the weary when you have a good weather window! Our departure day was delayed, unfortunately, because Freja fell while she was running and broke her wrist. Nothing major but the trip to the hospital delayed us for a day. Unfortunately Freja would have to manage a 11-13 day passage with her right arm immobilized. Certainly not an easy feat.

St. George's.

The crew of Tiki Tour and our local hosts at the country club.

Such a hard life.

And our usual contrasts: lounging at the beach one day to grimy boat jobs the next. We took advantage of being on teh hard to empty the chain locker and give it a proper wash down and inspection for corrosion.

Matilda has been asking to learn to play the violin so Hans brought her back a half size violin and they

're starting lessons, slowly but surely.