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Year Two: A Review

Sundance in Newfoundland

The Sophomore year of our voyage is complete!

June 2, 2023, start of year #2: Portland, ME.

Summer ’23: Nova Scotia, Newfoundland, St. Pierre & Miquelon (France), Magdelen Islands, Quebec.

Fall ’23: South via Boston, NYC, The Chesapeake Bay, and the ICW to Florida.

Winter ’23/’24: Cruising the Bahamas for a second season. (With a side trip to Cuba.)

Spring ’24: Sail to Bermuda to start our Atlantic crossing to Europe.

June 2, 2024, end of year #2 of our voyage: Bermuda.

Winter in the Ragged Island. Why wouldn’t you go back for a second winter here?

Headlines

Bill RIP

Newfoundland
Isle d’ Marin, Saint Pierre, France

Havana


Arrival into Bermuda

A few statistics from the past 12 months:

Canada to Cuba (sort of) and out to Bermuda all at walking speed


Takeaways

Our ratio of sailing to motoring improved dramatically from year one to year two. This was partly due to the fact that we lucked out with better winds for sailing in the second year thanks to El Niño. But the biggest reason is that we lost Bill the dog. Bill kept us near coastal in year one, and we were often rushing to get him to a place where he could get ashore for a walk. After he was gone, we opted for more offshore overnight sailing, especially our most recent push to Bermuda. These offshore legs were always scheduled for when winds would be optimal for sailing.

Our drop in gallons per hour diesel consumption is related to our decrease in engine use. When we did run the engine in year two, it was often for short bursts at relatively low RPM to get us in and out of harbors. Long days of motoring at high RPMs were less frequent in our second year.

One way or another, we covered a lot of miles this year past. The variety of the places we visited and the waters that we sailed were amazing to comprehend. It’s hard to believe that you can see so much when traveling at such a slow speed. Or is it because we travel at such a slow speed that we see so much?

Cold thoughts about the chilly waters of Canada
Warm feelings about the Bahama Blues

Breakdowns

For a 33-year-old boat Sundance continues to hold up exceptionally well. But we did have a few failures:


Boat Projects


Reflections

Chris: It was great to be home in May to see the kids graduate from school. Revisiting the busy East Coast corridor was also eye opening. I always figured myself to be a city mouse, but I struggled to regain my footing in the dense maw of civilization. The experience made two truths obvious: 1. I’m getting old. Because only old farts complain about the “dense maw of civilization.” 2: Life on the boat suits me.

The boat’s running strong, we’ve seen some amazing places this past year, and I’m looking forward to what comes next.

Worst Day: Sunday, June 18: Father’s Day. Lunenburg, Nova Scotia. Alex and I loaded Bill the dog into a taxi and took him on his last ride to the vet in Halifax. Sadly, cancer was eating him up and we had to put him down. Long ride back to the boat with just two of us in the cab. Sadly, we were burdened with a barrage of death and loss this past spring and early summer. But this is a sailing blog and I’ll keep the scope of discussion limited to the crew of this boat.

Best Day: Sunday, August 13, Hare Bay, Newfoundland. Every place in Newfoundland was more astonishingly beautiful than the last. But in retrospect, Hare Bay was our favorite. The majesty of that fjord has to be seen to be believed. And the hiking up the sides was phenomenal. Read more about our time in Newfoundland in the May 2024 issue of SAIL Magazine: Cruising Newfoundland on a Literary Pilgrimage

Hiking above Morgan’s Arm, South Coast of Newfoundland

Alex: If I’d been required to write this response in the middle of Year #2, I might have said it felt like a sophomore slump – remember those? As Chris has alluded to above, our spring and summer were marked with a lot of loss and so it felt as though sadness shrouded us, much like the fog in the six weeks of sailing in Nova Scotia. That surely didn’t help, nor did the pneumonia I acquired somewhere between Nova Scotia and Newfoundland. AND. What abides from those memories is the fact that even in the lows, I never wanted to get off the boat. In my fever dreams in Port Au Basque, I made Chris throw away some of my bedding and I hallucinated having a husband without a Santa Claus beard hiding last week’s lunch, but never, not once, did I wish to be in a different life. Can’t say that was always the case back when we lived on land.

Worst Day: Well, there were two. My mother died in late April and then Bill followed her in June. She’s glad about that I’m sure – she never failed to remark on the fact of her gratitude that Bill loved her and considered her one of his people. He did not consider most people to be his people, and sometimes he let you know that with his mouth. Same goes for my Mother, may she rest in peace.

Best Day: Again, I’m going to have to go with a plurality of days here. We’re not long returned from our time on land with the kids and other family as we gathered for law school graduations. Sitting at long tables, surrounded by people you love, eating good food, being nourished by interesting conversation and the knowledge that the kids are now adults, and excellent ones at that….well life doesn’t really get any better, does it? It’s possible that only having little sips now and then from the cup of family love makes the drink sweeter. But I don’t think that’s it. Time with family is just good. And living on a boat is too.


What’s next?

The Azores then England.

Stay tuned…

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Watch a related video of a presentation that Chris gave at The Pelagic Sailing Club about sailing The Bahamas:

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