With hatches wide open, and screens installed,  it was clear we had finally escaped the grip of the coldest winter in years.   What a sweet blessing it was to enjoy watching majestic trees with Spanish moss hanging from their branches, palm trees leaning over the lazy flowing waterway, and all sorts of wild life.   The water rolled smoothly beneath us and now, the only challenge we had was time;  the time it would take to travel from northern Florida on the Atlantic side, to northern Florida on the gulf.

We spent a couple of days visiting my parents who live right in our path in palm coast, then continued on down and spent some time with captain Keith and his wife.

“…we had received an amazing donation; two large barges full of small prefab homes for Haitian families who have been living in tarp shacks since the earthquake.   We also had tons of food and many other supplies.   As we were traveling past Cuba, we had difficulty with our engines and drifted with in 3 miles of the coast; Cuban waters.

Immediately, the Cuban authorities boarded us and towed us to land.  Sitting there at gunpoint, we heard them argue among themselves as we watched every last item in the barges piled up in trucks disappear.

We were accused of some kind of illegal international trading and then we were put in prison for weeks.    After 40 days, we were finally released. Having lost everything, we were simply happy to be free, so we could start over again.”

This was one of the many stories captain Keith and his wife shared with us. They have sailed humanitarian aid to Haiti for over 40 years.

Here we were, amazed and still stunned by some of the things we had experienced since we embarked on this mission, then we came across these seasoned veterans who had experienced “storms” and suffered losses far greater then what we could ever imagine. Yet they smiled as if it was all just another day in the park, and treated us as if we were the ones worthy of honor…

One of the more profound things we have come to realize in this journey is how truly small and insignificant we are.  This is something we all have known, and even spoken in conversation, but out here, it isn’t a knowing, or something you talk about; it is an ever present reality, and it is beautiful, for from this place of insignificance, there is no one to disappoint… no one to impress… there is simply an awareness that we are in the palm of a hand far greater then the furthest ends of the universe.   From that place we can do anything, and take credit for nothing…

On we sailed southward.   I had done much research on a little known water passage across the state of Florida called the Okeechobee  waterway.  This passage would save us 8 to 10 days of traveling around the entire lower coast of Florida.   Again, as it had been with other passage ways, the information on this crossing was speckled with question marks.   Water depths ranging from 5ft to 12ft, unkept sandbar areas, locks that may be closed for repairers, etc… In all, the most challenging obstacle looming deep at the center of the Okeechobee waterway was the Mayaka bridge.    Mayaka is an old and rare railroad lift bridge in the middle of the waterway just before entering the Okeechobee lake.   Fully lifted, it has a height of 50(+/-) feet.   50ft we understood, but what was this (+/-) measurement? Decisions, decisions…

With a 50ft tall mast, we decided to enter the Okeechobee waterway…

To be continued

Curious, I opened the strange bag that the old kayaker had given me.  Inside, was a fresh loaf of that world renown cinnamon raisin bread…

Amazing, here I was convinced this man was some comfortably retired old man with no interest for what we were doing in Haiti, while all along,  he was simply trying to think of a way to express his gratitude for being in our presence…

World renown cinnamon raisin bread toasted with butter, a hot coffee freshly brewed in a French press, gliding through the morning mist that hovers over the still waters, listening to the comforting hum of the engine as the sun peeks over the horizon…  How could that be properly described?    It was the furthest thing from the routine of our daily lives  prior to this journey.    Yet, within the unexpected highs and lows, the moments of joy and fear, disappointments and miracles, there was a new routine you could always count on for each day in Aleph Tav.  It went something like this:

6:30am
I wake up and immediately turned on the GPS on my iPhone to make sure we didn’t drag the anchor and drift to a new location overnight.

6:35am
I heat up water to brew a couple delicious cups of coffee while every one sleeps.

6:40am
I turn on the navigation instruments, start the engine, pull up the anchor, set the alarm to refuel in six hours, plot a course on the plot charter, being sure there are no obstructions or shallows on the days course, then sail off.

7:30am
Lisa peeks out through the companion way with a curious smile and enjoys the coffee still hot from the thermos.  Shortly after, she joins me in the cockpit where she enjoys reading a book on her Nook, gets through several more levels of candy crush, and enjoys texting friends and family.

9:30am
Noah peaks his head out of the companion way doors, then moseys on down to the galley for some cereal.

12:30pm
I am listening to Pat Metheny on my headphones oblivious of the time gone by, while Noah swings back and forth around the main mast on the bosom’s chair.  Lisa is on her second book.  Gabriel peeks around to see where we are and goes back to bed for another three of four episodes of 24.  Andre is enjoying rem sleep.

12:37pm
I am startled out of my happy zone wondering why the heck my refuel alarm didn’t go off, as the engine sputters to a silence.  Andre scratches his bed head trying to wake up, while he turns the ignition on and off, and I bleed the deisal lines to restart the engine.  Everyone puts their activities down waiting to hear the engine restart.

12:45pm
Relieved to hear the engine running, everyone returns to their activities.

1:30pm
Andre takes over the helm, and it is beddy bye bye for me as the warm afternoon sun and the gentle sway puts me right to sleep.

2:45pm
Some one wakes me up because the “head” aka toilet, is full.  I waddle through the boat carrying a heavy toilet tank full of pee and poo and dump it over the side of the boat, to the delight of all those happy un-kosher critters of the sea.  Trying to go back to sleep is impossible with Noah training to become a professional yodeler.

5:30pm
We find a place to anchor for the night.  Lisa looks at the weekly meal schedule to see who’s turn it is to cook and clean up.

6:00pm
The evening’s chef describes the  gourmet meal as everyone waits anxiously to eat.

8:30pm
I sit on the salon’s beanbag chair writing another account of the days events for the Book of Haitians

This is our predictable routine as we navigate through a most unpredictable journey, and if this description causes that religious spirit in us to ask: “What… no morning devotional?…  no time to study the word? no bedtime prayer?… where is God in all of this?”  I would ask: “Is there a place where G-d is not?”

To be continued

I quickly turn the helm and placed Aleph Tav in reverse hoping to slow down our forward motion as the happy old kayaker paddled off around us.  An unexpected change in course and speed while preparing to dock, only serves as a test to the integrity of the dock posts, and adds another scratch to your hull…

“Darn!…” I complained as we bumped the dock with a heavy thud.  Gabriel and Andre promptly cleated the lines.  Lisa searched on her phone for the nearest grocery store and Noah peeked out of the hatch curious to see where we were.

The marina folks left immediately after we checked in, leaving me searching  for anyone who could give us directions to the nearest grocery store. There was no one left; no one except the old kayaker who by now had put his small boat away, and was walking toward a road.  He was not exactly the person I would have chosen to ask, but having no other choice, I called his attention.

“The closest grocery store is about ten miles away.  And by the way, right next door, there is a bakery that makes a world renown cinnamon raisin bread.  Make sure you stop and get it.”  The man answered.

“Ok,” I responded, “we’ll just call a cab.”

“A cab?…” The old man chuckled, “Your in a private gated Plantation… a cab wouldn’t be able to come here, but…” he pondered for a moment, “If you don’t mind walking to my house, I’ll give you a ride there.  That is, if my truck starts.  Haven’t driven it in months…”

Andre, Gabriel and I, walked with the man for a little while, and I took the opportunity to share the purpose of our journey.

“Ok, let’s see if we can get this truck going.”  He said seemingly unmoved by what I shared.

The truck started on the very first turn of the key.  “Hey! Look at this!… You folks have good karma…” He noted with a surprised smile.

“Well… You have a good truck!” I responded with a smile.

Before heading off to the grocery store, man took us on a tour of the private gated Plantation.  “The food is amazing, and the bread is delicious… Well, not quite as good as the world renown cinnamon raisin bread that your gonna get where I’m taking you.”  He continued as we drove past a fancy restaurant. “Only members of the Plantation are able to eat here.”

Having passed by tennis courts, golf courses, and beautiful homes connected by perfectly groomed lawns and winding sidewalks, we approached a gate.  A guard came out and waved us through.

“You can only enter back into the Plantation if you are a member, or if you are guests.  When you docked at our marina and signed in, you became the marina’s guest, and now you are with me.”  The old man explained as he drove into the outside world.

Some time later we arrived at a shopping plaza.  The man drove past the grocery store as if he was still giving us a tour.  “There!…” He pointed at a little bakery store. “Make sure you get the cinnamon raisin bread.”

The boys and I spread out through the store, each with a portion of Lisa’s grocery list, and quickly reconvened at the cashier.  Outside, the man was waiting patiently next to his truck.  We placed the grocery bags in the trunk and off we went.

Because the man seemed more interested in talking about the Plantation then hearing about the purpose of our journey, I sat awkwardly silent as we drove all the way  back to the dock.

“Thank you so much… What can I do to bless you?” I asked the man while holding a bunch of grocery bags in my hands.

“You already did something to bless me…  Your presence… You allowed me to be in your presence.  That, was my blessing” he said as he waved us off.

The boys and I walked down the ramp leading to the boat dock… “Hey!!!” Came a voice behind us, “you forgot something…”

I turned around.  It was the old man.  He was carrying a bag I did not recognize, but he insisted, so I took the bag and returned to Aleph Tav

To be continued