Saturday, June 14, 2014


Probably my favorite anchorage between Philadelphia and Ft. Lauderdale: Price Creek, just north of Charleston.
(Yes, we're in Jacksonville, but we've previously sailed to Ft. Lauderdale.)

I feel like we’re floating on our own private island, drifting down a lazy river steadily, slowly southbound. Even though we pass other boaters and often share beaches with other people, I feel like we’re on a solitary trip. Whenever it’s my turn to steer the boat I find myself reaching for Hans’s phone for a quick check-in with Facebook. I send text messages and make phone calls to family. I feel this need to stay connected and to make human contact on a daily basis. 

Partly because we’re on this trip south all alone. Every day we pass a handful of cruisers, all going north. We’re on the reverse snowbird commute and we’re doing it alone. We have the camaraderie of the cruising boaters, simply by virtue of being out on the water for longer than a weekend, but we’re going against the grain and seem to be missing out on the community atmosphere. 

But it’s also different because now we’re a “kid boat.” We’ve seen a couple other “kid boats,” all going north, but not in the same anchorage. Whereas on Whisper when we would just dinghy over to another boat to chat and share some sundowners, this time sundowners happen right around the witching hour. Even if we wanted to take our rum drinks for a dinghy ride, the girls (especially Matilda) would not be interested in joining in the expedition. 

I perpetually wonder about my Facebook addiction. Can I not let go of Facebook for a few weeks and just be with my family and in the present because I need the additional human interaction, the larger community? Or is Facebook doing a really good job tapping into our love for instant gratification? Maybe I just haven’t been unplugged for long enough.

somewhere between Georgetown, SC and Charleston, SC, we got attacked by horseflies.
Killing them with the fly swatter became the #1 competition.

I popped my head through the forward hatch one afternoon to check on the girls,
suspecting they may have woken up from them naps.
Yup. Binky obsession? Yes.

I'm biased, but, wow, she is cute.

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