Baring all
The burbling of the percolator in the galley accelerates frantically as the bubbling crude’s strength began to build. Soon the crew’s clinking mugs fill the galley sink as the baitfish leap over the line that tethers Sohcahtoa, our Sunsail Jeanneau 41, to the rocky shore of Peter Island in the British Virgin Islands.
We all know that the real wake-up call is next. Aft er a brief discussion of the dive mask anti-fogging merits of dish soap versus saliva, it’s all hands over the side with Scotchbrite pads to have a look at the bottom. We’ve seen worse, which makes the excited racket coming out of snorkels a bit of a mystery. I speak tourist snorkel, having mastered common phrases like “Spotted ray!” or “Anchor’s set!” But I haven’t made it to the Duolingo module containing, “Shoal draft keel! How the heck are we supposed to go to windward with that?!”
With the bottom scrubbed, we enjoy freshwater showers of a length that would be the envy of cruisers everywhere, because we’ve come
