Galley Notes—Provisioning Tips

When it looked like our cruising season had been ended by my  recent injury, we began eating into our store of onboard provisions. But now that it looks like we’ll soon be on our way again, we’ve started restocking the pantry. Here are some provisioning tips we’ve learned for you current or soon-to-be cruisers out there.

First, before we leave the states we stock up on some essentials. We like to have plenty of shelf stable UHT milk (no refrigeration required until opened) onboard to make our morning lattes. While we’ve never had a problem finding bacon or some sort of breakfast sausage wherever we’ve traveled, we have had a hard time finding things like Spam and corned beef hash. Spam and hash can be scarce in the Bahamas, and when you do find them, they can run six to seven dollars a can, compared to about two bucks here at Publix.

Refrigerator space is some of the most valuable space on a boat, so in addition to buying UHT milk, another way we’ve found to stretch the limits of our cold storage space is to stock up on canned butter. We usually get a confused look from people when we mention it, and you probably won’t find it on the shelf at your local grocery store, but it’s easy to locate online. This is really high quality creamery butter from New Zealand that tastes wonderful. Each can holds the equivalent of three sticks of butter, and can be stored in the pantry with the other canned goods. As we open each one, Rhonda transfers the contents to a small plastic storage container to keep in the refrigerator.

We’ve never had a problem finding flour and oatmeal wherever we’ve traveled, but all the flour or cereal products we’ve purchased in Mexico (even at major stores like WalMart and Sam’s Club) or in small groceries in the Bahamas have come with unwelcome guests in the form of weevils. It’s common in stores down in the islands to have to look for flour in the freezer, as it’s the easiest way to protect from infestation. A traditional cruiser’s way of dealing with this is to add a liberal amount of bay leaves to the containers used to store pasta, cereals and grains. Apparently there’s something about them that weevils just can’t stand. So we keep an ample supply onboard. It’s much cheaper to purchase bay leaves in bulk than to buy spice-sized bottles, and this gives us enough to let us throw a liberal amount in each container used for cereals or grains. Plus we have plenty onboard for soups or stews!

Believe it or not, mac & cheese is a major staple in the Bahamas. They serve it as a side for everything, along with a dish called peas & rice. Dicing a can of Spam into mac & cheese is an easy to make one-pot meal when underway that we’ve found is one of the few things that goes down easily and stays down when it’s rolly enough to start making us feel a little green around the gills. So when we saw this while doing some online provisioning, we decided to give it a try.

It’s apparently a whole pound of what’s in that packet of golden goodness that’s included in every box of Kraft mac & cheese. We always have plenty of pasta onboard, and usually have butter and UHT milk, so with this, we’ll no longer have to hunt for boxes of Kraft while we’re down in the islands. We’ll let you know how it turns out. Plus we’re all set if we decide to whip up some beer & cheese soup someday!

Right Place, Right Time—Our First Grand Prix!

Sometimes things just happen in a way that ends up putting you in the right place at the right time. If I hadn’t shattered my kneecap a few months ago, Rhonda and I would have long since headed to Cuba and the Bahamas. But since our stay here in St Petersburg had been extended for my recovery and recuperation, we’ve ended up experiencing some pretty interesting things. One we’ll probably always remember is this weekend’s St Petersburg Grand Prix. We’ve watched for a month now as they turned two miles of downtown streets into a Formula One race track. This past weekend, it was showtime.

If you’ve been with us long enough to have read our post “Yes I Am (Or Theoretically Could Be) a Pirate,” then you know we’re not above looking for an angle to exploit when trying to save a few dollars while taking in new experiences. In this case, we wanted to check out the race, but the tickets seemed pretty steep at $75 each. But we’ve been here long enough now to get pretty familiar with the layout of the town, and it only took us a short while to find a spot that hadn’t been adequately fenced, and from where we could see some of the action at the best possible price—free!

It’s been quite the scene here in the marina as our dock filled up with the expensive yachts of racing team owners, helicopters buzzed overhead, and the air was filled with the sound of thousands of angry hornets generated by Indy race cars roaring around the course at speeds up to 175 mph.

This shows where we were in relation to the action.

And here’s a cool little video we grabbed from the televised coverage that gives you an idea of the size of the marina (largest on the west coast of Florida) its proximity to downtown and the municipal airport, which is where the grandstands were set up for the race.

It’s now the day after and the show is over, so we took a walk on the empty track that just yesterday was buzzing with action.

We found what are called tire marbles everywhere, and picked up a few as souvenirs. They’re formed from the rubber that peels off the race car tires as they zoom along the course. I wondered why the cars were constantly in the pits getting tires changed, but now I understand. The rubber they use has the consistency of chewing gum!

While I don’t think it’s something we’d plan to try and attend again, getting to experience the St Pete Grand Prix was definitely one of the highlights of our stay here.

I Did It My Way—The Uncooperative Patient

“I expected you to come in on crutches,” my therapist said at my first physical therapy appointment.

I hadn’t. I was wearing the leg brace my surgeon had prescribed, but rather than locking it rigidly as directed, I’d released it to swing 30° so that I could move my injured leg enough to limp along without crutches.

While lying in bed recovering from the surgery necessary to put my left knee back together, I’d had plenty of time to surf the web, researching the procedure my orthopedic surgeon had performed. I was particularly interested in the discussions on recovery time. The listed recovery range for a partial kneecap removal and patellar tendon reattachment ran from six weeks to one year, with the average being five to six months. I thought six weeks sounded pretty good. I wanted to be that guy. So I started pushing myself pretty aggressively.

It started while I was still in the hotel room we stayed in post-surgery while waiting to regain enough strength to be able to get back onboard Eagle Too. First I’d use my crutches to get back and forth to the bathroom. Then I started leaving one next to the bed, using the other as a cane. Within a couple of days, I was able to hobble back and forth without them.

Once back onboard, I started taking a daily walk. At first I could barely make it to the nearby street corner and back, stopping to pat the corner lamppost in triumph before returning to the boat, holding on to Rhonda the entire time to steady myself. After a few days, I was slowly adding distance to my route.

Two weeks after surgery, at my first follow-up with my surgeon, he told me I could begin weight bearing on the leg. “Way ahead of you, doc,” I said. “I’m already walking around the block every day.”

Two weeks later I started physical therapy. That’s when I surprised them by walking in rather than hobbling in on crutches. They were even more surprised when after two weeks of therapy I showed up without my leg brace. I just felt it was doing more harm than good. I understood the need to protect my knee from being flexed excessively and tearing the tendon repair. But walking with a cage on my leg was throwing my gait off so much that my hips would hurt like hell after a 20 minute walk. I could see where if I followed the prescribed regimen and wore the brace for 12 weeks, I’d need to learn how to walk all over again once it was off. So I jumped on Amazon and ordered a Velcro knee support to wear instead.

“You need to put that leg brace back on,” my therapist sternly lectured me.

“Yeah, that’s pretty much not going to happen, it’s killing my hips when I walk,” I replied.

“Well you really shouldn’t be walking so much,” he said unapprovingly. “I want you back in that brace.”

Another week, another therapy appointment. I again showed up with just my Velcro support.

“Have you been wearing your brace?” my therapist asked.

“Not one time,” I replied. We just stood and stared at each other for a moment, and then he shook his head and started warming up my knee with an ultrasound probe.

Rhonda and I resumed our Tuesday walks to the local AMC theater for $5 bargain movie days. Then we started going a few more blocks to Starbucks. Another week, and I was once again accompanying her on the mile walk to Publix for groceries. I started walking back wearing 20 lbs of groceries in a backpack.

At my six week post-surgery follow-up with my surgeon’s nurse, she was as dismayed as my therapists. But when I showed her that I could stand, walk, and move my leg freely, she shrugged, checked with the doctor and then wrote me a new physical therapy prescription authorizing strength training exercises.

Now it felt like I was getting somewhere. Rather than just standing and waving my leg around at therapy, I could start using the leg press machine and ride the stationary bike. Another week went by and then I decided to test myself. I’d been using Uber and Lyft to get back and forth to my therapy appointments. I now decided to get a ride to my appointment, and then walk the 1.5 miles back to the marina afterwards. It went OK, and that became my new routine. Last week, I started walking both ways. You should have seen my therapist’s face when I said I didn’t need to do any warmups since I’d walked a mile and a half to get there and I was pretty sure the knee was warmed up already.

And now it’s been over eight weeks since my surgery. My knee is a long way from being all better, but it’s strong enough that Rhonda and I can head into town for a festival and go to dinner, covering three or four miles in the process. More importantly, I can move around on deck, climbing up and over the dinghy to get to the anchor locker, or down the ladder on the stern to access the swim platform lockers. A few weeks ago I just didn’t have the strength in my left knee to climb around like that. I figure in a few more weeks, it won’t even be that difficult.

My next follow-up with my surgeon is in another week. I intend to tell him that he did such a wonderful job that he won’t be seeing me again. We love St. Petersburg, but we’ve been here way too long. It’s less than three months till hurricane season starts again, and we want to try and do some cruising. So unless it voids my warranty or he sees some major reason why I shouldn’t, we’ll probably push on south and head for the Bahamas for a couple of months. It sounds like a great way to recuperate!

Broken Parts and Dead Celebrities

As you may know, there’s an old superstition that says that celebrity deaths always come in threes. For example, did you know that Ed McMahon and Farrah Fawcett both died in the same week as Michael Jackson? Spooky, eh? It’s a common enough occurrence that whenever we hear of the death of someone famous, we wonder who the next two will be.

Apparently, this evil juju has now extended its influence to include the pieces and parts that make up a sailboat. Maybe this sinister cosmic force was just looking for something new to dabble in. Who knows.  But I’ve written before about how when you’re developing your cruising budget, you should plan on annually spending 10% of your boat’s purchase price on maintenance and repairs. As things would have it, this month was looking like a pretty good one for us. Probably due to the fact that we’re really just sitting in the marina while I recover from knee surgery and thus not using the boat much, I thought we were actually going to get away with no broken things needing expensive parts to fix, which definitely helps the financial bottom line. Not that we haven’t been paying to fix things lately. It’s just been money spent on doctors and physical therapy to fix my broken kneecap, rather than parts of the boat.

But then Rhonda noticed some water in the bilge. Not too much, just a few pints, but since we keep a dry bilge, any water down there means something is wrong. It’s the biggest reason why we encourage people to try and create a dry bilge. Not only does it help with odor control and keep the humidity down, it also gives you a clear warning when something starts to leak.

The good news was that the water was fresh, which meant a plumbing or rainwater leak. Finding saltwater in the bilge means your boat is slowly sinking, and the bilge pump is the only thing keeping you afloat.

I suspected I knew the source, and pulling the settee apart so that I could access the freshwater system revealed a leaking freshwater pump gasket. I jumped on the Defender site to order a replacement. While I was at it I also ordered an inline shutoff valve from that I’ve been wanting to install upstream of the pump so that I can easily isolate our water tank if I want to do some maintenance on the freshwater system.

New isolation valve on the left, and quick disconnects installed in pump wiring to make a future replacement easier.

Next, it’s that time of month when I like to run our outboard motor and generator to make sure the gas in the carburetors doesn’t go stale. It’s a precautionary routine maintenance task that we try to regularly do to ensure they’ll both easily start when we need them. But apparently we were now caught up in the rule of threes, because when I inserted the motor safety key in the stop switch so I could start the outboard, the red kill button fell off in my hand. It’s really not supposed to do that. While you can disconnect the switch and still start the outboard, it’s a bit hard to shut the motor off without this little piece of safety equipment. So I was off to to order a replacement. I’m just glad this happened here at a dock in St Pete during a routine check, rather than somewhere down in the islands.

And then the discharge connection on the air conditioning pump got broken, meaning no more A/C or heat until we installed a replacement. So back to Defender I went to place another order.

So in less than 48 hours, we went from thinking we’d have a surplus in the monthly maintenance budget line to suffering three equipment failures requiring over $500 in parts. This naturally puts us right on target to maintain that 10% annual repair expenditure, but at least the law of threes is appeased, and order and balance has apparently been restored to the cosmos.

Our Latest Articles!

Rhonda and I were pleasantly surprised to open our February issue of Southwinds magazine and see that I had not one, but two articles published in the issue! With some of the bumps we’ve encountered along our cruising road this past month, this put a smile on our faces, and will even add some dollars to the cruising fund.

“A Cellular Plan for Cruisers,” our explanation of why and how we chose Google Fi as our cellular carrier for cruising, appears on page 48 of the February 2018 issue.

And “What’s In A Name,” a humorous look at picking a good name for a cruising boat, is on page 70.

If you’re interested, check your local marina or favorite marine store for a copy, or you can read them online at the Southwinds Magazine site:

Read the Current Issue of SOUTHWINDS Magazine

And don’t forget, if you enjoy the articles and would like to sample more of my writing, my science thriller Lunar Dance is still available on Amazon in hardcover, paperback and Kindle versions! 🙂 Check the page margins for a link.

A Delightful Surprise

Before my recent injury, we’d ordered the new Waterway Guide to Cuba in order to start doing some detailed planning for our anticipated return there in February. We met the author, Addison Chan, at Marina Hemingway in Cuba last year, and we spent a couple of months buddy-boating with Addison and his wife Pat, traveling together from Cuba to Mexico and then to the Florida Keys. We didn’t know it at the time, but Addison was doing research for the guide as we traveled along the northwest Cuban coast toward Mexico.

The chances of our returning to Cuba this year are now looking pretty slim, but since I have some time on my hands while I recuperate, I’ve been browsing through the Cuba Waterway Guide. So imagine our surprise and delight when we realized that Eagle Too makes two appearances in the book!

More than just a cool reminder of our trip, I think this will also give us something to point to if the USCG ever questions our claim that we travel to Cuba under the Journalism license, doing research for a cruising guide to Cuba’s north coast.

The Road to Recovery

I’d never ridden in an ambulance before. I guess that’s a pretty good thing. But now here I was, strapped to a gurney, taking that dreaded ride. I can’t say I recommend it. The vehicle swayed and bounced, and if I hadn’t been belted down I probably would have ended up on the floor. Plus the service left a lot to be desired. I asked if I could have a little water. The EMT replied, “We don’t have any water, or peanuts either.”

“Really?” I said, with a “So that’s how it’s going to be” tone.

“Sorry, but we get asked that a lot. We don’t have any water.” At least she was smiling, so I think it was intended to be a lighthearted moment.

And a little while later, there I was in the ER treatment room, Rhonda by my side, as the doctor looked at my X-rays.

“You’re going to need surgery,” he said.

“It’s not just dislocated?” I asked with resignation.

“Lateral fracture of the patella,” he explained, showing me in the X-ray image where what should have been one bone was now two distinct pieces. “By the way, that was pretty badass, pushing your kneecap back into place,” he added. He said he’d worked with hockey teams quite a bit, had seen similar injuries, but couldn’t recall a time where the patient was able to relocate the broken bone himself. “Kudos,” he added.

The hospital arranged a consult with an orthopedic surgeon for the next day, but since my condition wasn’t severe enough to admit me, they gave me a leg brace, a pair of crutches, and a prescription for pain meds, and showed me the door. Unfortunately, in my current condition, there was no way I would be able to climb back onboard Eagle Too. We had to book a hotel room for the duration.

The next day, at the surgeon’s office, the doctor explained that the lower third of my kneecap was mush and unsalvageable, but the top two thirds looked pretty good. In my current state, my patellar tendon, which is what moves the lower leg, wasn’t connected to anything, which explained why I had no ability to lift or straighten it. But he felt pretty confident he’d be able to reattach the tendon to what remained of my kneecap, restoring normal leg function. A few weeks of recovery and a few months of physical therapy and I should be, if not quite as good as new, at least able to return to my normal range of activities. He scheduled the surgery for the next day.

We’d never used Uber before. It actually works really well. Until now Rhonda had been able to borrow a car from some friends in the marina (thanks Mike and Jen!) to transport me around. But they had plans today, so we took an Uber to the surgery center. I can see why the service has become so popular. Once you set the app up on your phone and enter your payment method, then you just type in where you need to go, and in minutes a car pulls up to take you there. No cash is required, as the payment is handled by the app. I guess if there’s one small bright spot in all this, it’s that we’ve learned a new way to get around.

The surgery went well. The doctor said I could walk on the leg while I was recovering, and that he’d see me in 12 days to take off the leg brace and unwrap everything. If it all looked good, I could then start physical therapy.

We stayed in a hotel for five nights, but I wanted to get back onboard Eagle Too as soon as possible. Not only is she our home, but the hotel bill was eating us alive. With Rhonda’s help and the assistance of friends in the marina I finally stepped back onboard five days after the accident.

With a few minor bumps, each day since has been better than the one before. I’m eight days post-surgery now, and while I still have a cage on my leg and a bandage from my ankle to my thigh, I’m feeling pretty good. I’ve been completely off pain meds for over 36 hours, and I can lift and walk on the leg with little pain. Rhonda has been taking very good care of me, and I’m quite fortunate to have such a capable partner. I can’t imagine what dealing with something like this would be like for a single-hander who doesn’t have someone to prepare meals and dispense meds and take care of all those little boat chores that still need doing like filling the water tank and adjusting the lines. Thank you for being there for me, dear!

So that’s where things stand as of today. I have my follow-up appointment next week, and I’m pretty sure it will go just fine. With Rhonda’s help I was able to get off the boat and take a short walk on the pier yesterday. Today we did it again and I went at least twice as far.  Hopefully before long my range will increase from just a brief stroll on the pier to being able to make it the three or four blocks into town so we can take in a few movies at the AMC or grab lunch someplace. It will probably be a while before I can get on a bike again though.

It’s still too early to tell what comes next for us. We’ll most likely call off the rest of this cruising season and return to Pensacola in a few months so that I can finish rehab at home. With luck, by spring this will all be just an unpleasant memory and we’ll be ready to head south again next fall. There is even a (remote, but not impossible) chance that if my leg heals enough in the next four to six weeks, we might be able to salvage at least a few months of the season, possibly traveling down to the Keys. We’ll see. I’d just need to feel confident in my ability to do things like get in and out of the dinghy, climb the stern boarding ladder or stand on the foredeck and work the anchor windlass without my left knee folding up.

I do know one thing though. If I ever decide to move forward with that cruising guide I’m considering writing, I’ll be able to approach the chapter on “Dealing with Medical Emergencies” from a position of firsthand experience!

In The Blink Of An Eye

Eagle Too tugged at her lines, dancing and swaying at the dock as she was buffeted by strong north winds. Rhonda and I slept fitfully, our rest constantly interrupted by sudden jerks and shudders. In the early AM, we simultaneously awoke, both realizing that the boat didn’t feel right. She had a pronounced list (lean) to port, and the boat wasn’t rolling back to level as she should. Something was wrong. And I had a pretty good idea what it was.

The full moon (the Wolf Moon) had shown brightly and clearly in the sky when we had gone to bed the previous evening. A full moon makes for spring tides (which has nothing to do with the season), with higher highs and lower lows than are typical. The strong north wind that had been blowing since the passage of a recent cold front had pushed an enormous amount of water out of Tampa Bay. Taken together, the result was an extreme minus tide. Poking my head up the companionway, I could see that Eagle Too was sitting almost four feet below the dock.

We’d been here at the St Petersburg Municipal Marina for over six weeks, and we’d “dialed in” our lines and fender board so our boat rose and fell to the tides with no adjustments necessary. But this super-low tide had us hanging from our lines, which had drawn up as tight as guitar strings, causing the boat to roll to port. I had to go ashore and loosen them to relieve the pressure or risk tearing out our deck cleats.

As I stood on deck, the dock was at about the level of my upper stomach. Placing my hands on the dock, I jumped up and got a knee on top of it while doing a pushup, easily scrambling up off the boat. Loosening the lines to take the pressure off our cleats, Eagle Too settled down into the water and rolled back to level. Job accomplished, all I wanted was to return aboard and crawl back into our still warm bed.

Because the lines were now loosened, Eagle Too was not only almost four feet below me, but the north wind had also pushed it about 2 feet away  from the dock. It seemed like the best way to get back aboard was to sit on the edge of the dock with my legs dangling over the side while Rhonda, who was still aboard, pulled the lines to try and pull the boat closer to the dock. She pulled the boat in as close as she was able, and then released the line and moved aside so I could jump back aboard. I swung my legs out in front of me, pushed off the dock with both arms, and launched myself in an arc toward what I thought was going to be a graceful landing onboard.

Maybe it was because the boat started drifting away as soon as Rhonda released the line, or maybe it was because the graceful arcing leap my youthful feeling brain attempted to perform was poorly executed by my not-so-youthful 59 year old body. But rather than both feet landing squarely on the deck as planned, I just barely caught the edge of the boat with the tips of my toes. Down I went, falling along the side of the boat, eventually catching myself with my elbows and preventing a fall into the frigid water.

A quick blast of pain told me I’d banged my left knee on the toerail of the boat as I slid down the side.  But my first concern was to get myself back onboard. Pushing myself upright and swinging my legs up over the side, I was able to clear the side of the boat, collapse onto the deck, and then crawl into the cockpit. I was relieved that I hadn’t gone swimming, and grateful that I hadn’t hit my jaw or head. We’ve known of others who had killed themselves in similar circumstances by hitting their heads, knocking themselves out and falling into the water and drowning.

With time to now evaluate the situation, I took stock of my condition. My arms and shoulders were a little sore from where I’d fallen onto them, but everything still worked. My biggest problem was that my left leg was really starting to throb, and I couldn’t move it very much. I pulled up the leg of the sweatpants I’d donned to go topside, and the first thing I noticed was that my left kneecap was now on top of my thigh.

“Well that can’t be good,” I thought. “Better put it back where it belongs.” I believed it was most likely dislocated, and pushing it back into place seemed like the right thing to do. So I put my left palm on the lump atop my thigh, placed my right hand over the left, and then gently walked my patella back to the front of my knee. I needed a couple of minutes to catch my breath after that, but then I took my leg in my hands and began slowly flexing the knee to make sure nothing else was broken while Rhonda went below to grab an ice pack.

“OK, this is going to be fine,” I thought. “A few days of ice and compression and I’ll be good as new.” Just then one of the marina dock managers walked by, checking to see how boats were handling the low tide. “How’s it going?” he asked.

“Not so good,” I replied, rubbing my knee with both hands. “I just fell back onboard after adjusting our lines, and I banged my knee up pretty good.”

A look of concern crossed his face. “Do you want me to call someone?” he asked.

I started to say no, that I’d be fine. But I had enough presence of mind to realize that maybe I wasn’t. It probably wouldn’t hurt to get it checked out. So the marina called EMS. While waiting, the adrenaline starting subsiding, which had been hiding the pain. By the time EMS arrived, I realized asking for help had been the right call. The EMS crew agreed, and radioed the Fire Department. It was going to take a whole bunch of people to lift this 200 lb invalid up off the boat, onto a dock, and into a gurney.

The day had started as just one of those days where life had tossed us a little challenge that we often encounter in our Life On The Hook™. But in the blink of an eye, everything had changed, and now I was taking my first ambulance ride.

More to follow…

It’s our Cruise-iversary!

Today is a significant day. It’s the anniversary of the latest chapter in our life together, the start of our Life On The Hook™. It was December 27th, 2014 that Rhonda and I first moved onboard Eagle Too and became full time liveaboards. That means that today marks the beginning of our fourth year of this latest stage of our lives.

How did we spend the day? Helping another newly minted cruising couple better understand their new-to-them boat and some of the challenges (the unknown unknowns) that they have ahead of them. After thousands of miles of cruising and three years as dwellers-upon-the-sea, we feel we’ve learned quite a bit about this crazy and unconventional life. Enough so that when asked, we feel comfortable sharing some of that knowledge and experience with others now embarking on a similar path. We’ve gone from being the sponges that eagerly soaked up all the wisdom more experienced cruisers were willing to share to being those who are (occasionally) asked for guidance and advice. It’s help that we’re happy to provide, as we feel we’re paying forward the kindness and wisdom of those who helped us in the past.

Who knows, maybe that would be a great subject for another book … 🙂

So what’s next for the crew of the good ship S/V Eagle Too? Well, after the holidays, which we’re spending here in St Petersburg (because it’s 76° here, while it’s 49° back home in Pensacola) we’ll start working our way south. We’ve received permission from the Coast Guard to once again travel to Cuba, and we hope to make the jump across the Straits of Florida to that island nation in mid-February. So stay tuned, for there appears to be yet more adventure ahead as we begin our fourth year of this cruising life!

A Merry Cruiser’s Christmas

One of the first things we learned when adjusting to our Life On The Hook™ is how little space there is onboard for extraneous stuff. If we can’t eat it, it isn’t related to safety or security, serve multiple purposes, or address an ongoing need, then there just isn’t room for it on S/V Eagle Too. For that reason, our initial plans to pack along a small collection of Christmas lights, decorations and a modest artificial tree so we could celebrate the season quickly collided with our new reality, and it all ended up in our storage unit.  We just couldn’t find space onboard for things that would only be used once a year.

Because she misses her garden, Rhonda tries to maintain a few small herb plants onboard. It gives her something to grow and nourish, and also spices up our cuisine. So when she found a small rosemary plant shaped like a tiny Christmas tree at the grocery store, we gave it a home. It provided Santa a place to leave a few presents, and once the holidays are over, it will supply savory spice for our steaks and stews. It checks the boxes of being multi-functional and edible, and so a new tradition is born!

We’ve definitely gotten into the spirit of the cruiser’s minimalist Christmas here aboard Eagle Too. Rather than an orgy of conspicuous consumption, our holiday has become  a day to relax, reach out to family and enjoy some scrumptious food. It’s almost embarrassing to look back at our first Christmas aboard! How far we’ve come.

Rhonda and I want to take a moment to wish each of you a very Merry Christmas and extend our best wishes for your pending New Year.