Ali and I went out early the other morning to do some running around. When we came back to the dock on the boardwalk, in front of the tourist restaurants, we were lugging a jerry can of gas, a waist-high laundry basket, half a dozen bags of groceries, and a case of beer.

A mid-thirties couple with southern accents came up to us and asked, “So, you have a boat out there in the bay, and you can just come in here and do laundry and grocery shopping, and then go right back out to your boat?” The entire concept of a boat life had clearly never ever crossed their minds before their visit to St. Croix. They described their visit to the island as “eye opening,” explaining that they had ended up in the “wrong part of town once.” After four months, I’m on a first name basis with most of the folks they ran into in the wrong part of town.

They asked us a few questions and ended up getting the thirty second Bumfuzzle recap. When they found out we had a nine and eleven year old they nodded their heads, and in all seriousness said, “Oh, wow. Where do they live?”

That’s the moment I realized how totally foreign our way of life is to most people.

Back at the boat the kids ran out and helped us unload the dinghy, put away groceries, and stack laundry in the drawers. What seems completely foreign to most people would probably look a lot like normal life if they just ignored the fact it was taking place on a boat, in the ocean.

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One of the big tourist attractions in St. Croix is the tide pools. We’d read about these, and had friends who had done the hike multiple times, but Ali and I aren’t avid hikers, and the thought of huffing 2.7 miles each way to plop down in some tide pools just didn’t sound all that great. No restaurant or bar at the end after all that work? Ugh.

But, seeing as we’ve done literally every other thing in the tourist playbook, we packed up the backpacks and set off. And let me just say, that, was, exhausting.

The trip out wasn’t bad. We had cold drinks. No snacks though, as Ali had left the bag of snacks on the front seat of the car. In the sun. The kids were supposed to taste their fist Moon Pies. Alas, it was not to be.

Hiking might seem like an inexpensive “hobby,” but when we go it inevitably includes a stop at the store for snacks that end up costing like seventy bucks. We walk around the store like we are setting off across the Sahara and are convinced there is a good chance we’ll never see food or drink again unless we find a dead camel along the way that we can quarter and cook over an open fire.

The worst part about this hike is that if you’d simply ponied up for the Jeep rental instead of the micro-Kia, you could drive yourself right there. It’d be about twenty footsteps to the tide pool from your parked vehicle on the beach.

I mean, yeah, they were tide pools. There were some prettier ones up over these rocks that I didn’t carry the camera over to, but for 99% of the people who came down here, this is all they were going to see. The kids made it fun by finding a cliff to jump off of, albeit into just five feet of water. But it wasn’t particularly pretty (the extremely shallow pools on the other side were a bit more so).

Whatever, though, it’s all about a family adventure. We had a lot of laughs over the absurdity of hiking nearly six miles for this. We enjoyed watching Lowe the hunter spot the Mongoose running around in the hills. Everyone got a good laugh when I stepped off the trail and my flip-flops helped me slide way closer to my death than was at all reasonable. And overall, we were able to just enjoy each other’s misery. All in all, good quality family time.

We knew we were screwed when Ouest’s first Yahtzee roll of all time resulted in… a Yahtzee.

Ouest found an app that you can simply point the camera at a flower and be told what the name of it is. This was great because if there is one area Ali and I are severely devoid of knowledge in, it’s plant identification. I could probably point out a birch tree with reasonable accuracy. And I’m pretty sure I know a tulip when I see one. But beyond that? Nope.

She pressed the flowers in a book and labeled them. In the course of a day she surpassed our combined lifetimes of flora knowledge.

After about five months at anchor it was time for a quick break. The dinghy wasn’t spitting out cooling water any more, and the varnish was due for a touch up. Ali was ready to wash literally every item of cloth on the boat, and the kids were ready to run off and explore without a dinghy ride. Green Cay Marina is completely full, with waiting lists and the whole deal, but somehow we always manage to finagle our way in.

This was home for a week.

The marina includes entrance to the 3-star resort—2 if you ask the guests—facilities. These included a pool, a beach, volleyball, kayaks, the whole deal. We took the double kayaks out one day, mainly just because we’d seen the outrageous price they charge non-guests.

Lowe took one look at that list, then a look over his shoulder at the resort, and turned back to us and asked, “Why wouldn’t you just get a hotel room instead of paying for the double kayak?”

Ali and I looked at each other and knew we had done something right with that boy. Sound financial decision, son.

In all seriousness, we really had a nice time. The bar/restaurant had some surprisingly good food, and nice servers who seemed to helicopter in from places like North Dakota. The poor lady that worked the beach club shack at the far end of the beach couldn’t have been more accommodating (likely because we were the only people she’d talk to each day). We had fun kayaking. We played beach volleyball together each day. Lowe made friends with a lizard that rode around in a nest of hair on the top of his head for hours. We met up with some Bumfuzzle/Wanderer friends and had some laughs. All in all, not a bad place.

There were some other kids in the marina, so Ali dug out some books that were perfect for younger readers. Of course our kids saw those sitting on the shelf and were like, “Whoa, whoa, whoa, what are you doing with these?”

You have to appreciate the resourcefulness of boat kids.

We left the marina after a week with the joy of knowing that we had an amazing weather window opening up for our next passage. We also knew that our new passports had arrived in Minnesota and they had been sent 2-day air to us in St. Croix. Of course, 2-day has meant anywhere from 3 to 12 days so far during our visit, so we weren’t exactly counting our chickens just yet.

However, with the possibility of a passage looming, we did decide to top off the tanks one more time. I don’t leave for open ocean without full tanks, regardless of whether or not I think I have enough fuel already.

After the fuel dock we did a drive by of the fort. We could have lobbed some canon balls their way.

The next couple days were a blur of activity, so of course it rained like crazy. We haven’t seen lightning in four months, but we got it in spades.

Wet dinghy rides are the norm.

In our last days we loaded up the groceries once again. We hit the wonderful book store one more time. Home Depot to resupply the varnish supplies. More groceries.

At the grocery store Ali was bagging things as the clerk sent them down the conveyor belt. Piles and piles of everything imaginable. Suddenly she holds up a bottle of rum and says, in her outside voice, “Is this yours?!”

I sheepishly nodded yes. It was a rather extravagant rum purchase, I admit.

The clerk smiled at me knowingly and said, “Thought you’d sneak that in there didn’t ya’?”

COVID tests were next. Vaccine or no vaccine, you aren’t getting in anywhere without a negative test within 72 hours.

I’d like to point out, for the record, that the nurse taking my blood pressure asked, “Are you a runner?”

I knew then that my effort on the tide pool hike had paid off.

Last stop was a trip to the airport to track down a Customs officer who would sign our clearance form saying we’d officially left. Their offices were empty, nobody answered the phone, and pounding on the office doors yielded no answer. So what do you do? You ask the lady cleaning the restrooms.

Within a couple minutes I had an annoyed looking Customs officer standing in front of me.

With that piece of paper in hand, we were out. Adventure awaits. I couldn’t be more excited. Honestly, for me, there is nothing better than setting off for somewhere new. The kids aren’t all that thrilled with passages. They know the routine. And I can’t blame them much. It means being uncomfortable. It means a fair chance of feeling sick. It means a lot of time spent staring at the sea without the energy to do much else. Ali, for her part, has developed a bit of the wariness that comes with being a mother. I get it. It’s no longer just us setting off on the ocean. Nobody cares much what happens to the two of us. But we’re a family, and her responsibility lies with the kids. My responsibility, as Captain, mostly lies in making the final decision to set off. If I say go, and the weather is absolute crap, and we get beaten up out there, it’s on me. If I say go, and a day out the engines conk out, it’s on me. If I say go, and anything at all goes wrong, it’s on me.

Anyway, let’s not be overly dramatic. We’re only in the Caribbean, after all. It’s not that big a body of water. We can point in any direction from St. Croix and we’d run into land within just a few hundred miles.

We’re off. Somewhere new is on the horizon, and that’s always fun for everyone.