After multiple changes of plans due to the unpredictability and general difficulty of traveling in stormy weather after disasters, I began my journey to the Bahamas. It was 11:30 at night, and I had been at work all day, then handling the details of turning over a household, bill paying and caring for three cats.

In a van stuffed with bodies and baggage, I almost fell asleep once or twice as we swooped down the Florida highway toward Pompano Beach. There a very generous private yacht met ten of us, and all our luggage, and tons of supplies for ourselves, the party we were to join, and for as many Bahamians as we can reach.

As we left the harbor for the open Atlantic, we slammed into slightly heavy seas, perhaps four to five feet, but enough to create a rough ride. Another tropical depression was growing in the islands and the ride grew rougher. What is a three hour crossing in fair weather became almost five hours of bucking into the air and crashing back into the sea. Ninety-five percent of those aboard grew seasick, including yours truly. My first experience with this, even after a life of boating on the Chesapeake, was as miserable as all the stories.

Exhausted and sore we arrived to Freeport. Then customs, and unloading all the paraphernalia, and food and water. To the base camp we went, had a little orientation and food, and set out to bring food and water to families on the island.

Wonderful!! The mood was just happy. We were thanked by people who really mean "Thank you." This was said over and over again by people who weren't even taking the food and water.

I still haven't slept, and have only had a CoupaN