Hi, it’s me, Karl. Your favorite German Shepherd boy, back to continue the tale…tail….of my sail to the Bahamas.
Once we reached the ocean, we were officially on our way to the Bahamas, and I was soooo excited. Now, don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t exactly new to this whole out of the country thing. I’m a seasoned traveler. I’ve been on an airplane, and I’ve traveled by truck and car through the wilds of Alaska and Canada. That’s international, you know.
But this was different. I was on the OCEAN, baby. Wind in my fur, salty sea breeze bringing all kinds of amazing smells straight to my sniffer. Absolute perfection.
Unfortunately, my mom was being a total downer. She says Shepherds are not allowed to roam around while the boat is moving. Apparently, she worries. Too much, if you ask me. She made Sister and me sit in the cockpit and wear our life jackets. To be fair, that is the rule while underway. It’s a subsection of the one and only rule the Captain, also known as my dad, has. Stay on the boat.
So we don’t complain when it’s time for life jackets, even though Sister’s makes her look like a giant pink marshmallow. Mine, on the other paw, just enhances my rugged, handsome Shepherd features.
Next up was crossing something called the Gulf Stream. I had never heard of it before, but let me tell you, it moves. At that time, it was right along the coast near the Port St. Lucie inlet where we came out. That meant we were in it almost immediately. The current was pushing us north while we were trying to go east.
Since it was October, it was already dark by the time we reached open ocean. It was windy, and with the current and wind going different directions, the ride was really rough.
We got tossed around a lot. Dad told us not to worry. This was expected when the wind, waves, and current all had different opinions. There was also a ton of traffic. Giant cruise ships. I had never seen ships that big. They towered over our boat. And listen, our boat is a big 44 foot sailboat, but those cruise ships could have eaten us for a snack.
They went fast. Way too fast. They didn’t even slow down and came super close. Some of them didn’t even follow the rules. Dad explained that sailboats have special right of way rules because we can’t turn as easily as motorboats. A lot of powerboats ignored those rules, so we had to stay extra alert.
We were headed to an island south of Florida, but the current kept pushing us north, so we had to fight our way across. It was a battle. Big waves tipped us back and forth. Our boat is what Dad calls a monohull, which means when a wave hits, we lean way over to one side, then the other, back and forth all night long. Hour after hour.
Sister started looking a little wobbly. We laid down on the floor, and that’s when it happened.
Sister lost her kibble. Everywhere.
Mom said it was no big deal and called it sea sick, which apparently happens a lot to sailors. I, of course, announced that this would never happen to First Mate Karl.
It happened to Sister two more times that night. Yuck. So stinky.
Finally, we made it across the Gulf Stream, and all of a sudden the seas smoothed out. About an hour later, the sun started to come up. When I looked at the water, it wasn’t the dirty, smelly Stuart, Florida brown anymore. It was clear and beautiful. My people were oooing and ahhing.
Mom pulled out a yellow flag and raised it on the mast. She explained that it tells everyone we’re new to the country and haven’t checked in yet. The Captain has to show passports and pay entrance fees and all that official stuff. Until then, the yellow flag stays up. It’s called the Q flag. Q is for Quarantine.
Not long after that, we arrived at a place called West End on Grand Bahama Island. We pulled into the bay and tied up at a dock right in front of a small gas station. Dad said we all had to stay on board until he figured out the procedures. Every place is different, and only the Captain is allowed to get off the boat at first.
So we waited while he went inside.
I could not wait for the adventure to begin.
Karl. Out!
