Two Fridges and Mood lighting, Final Friday on Tulkas.

Wild ride in the hammock last night. The wind kept changing directions, so even though I was strung up along the bow-stern axis of the yacht, gusts were hitting me from both sides and rocking me around like crazy. I’d wake up during the worst of these and gaze up at the stars or listen to a passing shower, which would put me right back to sleep. In truth, I enjoy every minute of this.

Sensing some late-week fatigue on our guests, we planned a short, fun swim to the beach at White Bay, Peter Island and back to the yacht. We swam in two rows, elbow to elbow, then goofed around as Heather took photos. A young remora joined us, looking to hitch a ride, but soon realized that we were not true pelagic creatures. This has happened in this bay before, and I have to say I’m not a big fan of these little guys: they’re so driven and single-minded.

One of our goals for the end of our week was to avoid one big long upwind slog on our yacht to return to the marina on Scrub Island. Starting at Peter Island helps, but breaking the trip up with a swim and lunch at Salt Island helps, too. We haven’t anchored here in a long time, and were greeted by a big (harmless) nurse shark. We swam then combed the beach for sea glass, but it’s not your typical kind here. Back in the 1700s and 1800s, this bay would have been filled with big ocean-crossing sailboats, preserving their food with salt from this island. A good deal of beer and rum would be consumed, and the bottles made from very thick, dark green glass tossed overboard. After 200 years, the glass has broken up and smoothed out, and it’s just the coolest stuff. The hurricane must have churned up a lot of the sea glass, because there was more than I ever remember seeing. It rained hard on us as we swam back to Yacht Touple (Tulkas). 

I combed the beach with guest Judy, who is at least one generation older than most of us on the trip. This woman has a zest for living that is infectious, and has inspired all of us as she strokes her way through the waves and leaps back aboard the boat like a teenager.  

We made a pit stop for gas at Spanish Town, Virgin Gorda, then kept steaming up to Scrub Island. I made sangria along the way, using the last of the fruit and red wine, spiking it with the last of the rum and a bit of perrier. Landing back in civilization is always a bit jarring after a week spent with just 11 other like-minded people.  

All in all, this has been a year of SwimVacation trips that might not have been at all, had it not been for vaccines, readily available testing, courageous crew and most importantly, brave swimmers who were ready and willing to step back out into a world that is still (and perhaps more than ever) so filled with uncertainty. To the ones who’ve crewed and guided with us this year, we couldn’t ever do what we do without you. For those who traveled with us this year, we can’t thank you enough for choosing us as your first escape, and ultimately, for your faith in us and the water. Like us, you all have found solace and balance in the ocean. Sometimes giving over to a force of nature feels scary. Sometimes, if you let it, surrender to the ocean feels like being held. A salty hug we’ve all needed.

Be safe and well through the end of another year of strangeness. We will be on the other side of it to splash into a sea which always catches us where we are.

Love,

Hopper and Heather