Allan’s Cay, Dec 13th

Although the Allan’s Cay anchorage is well protected from wind in any direction, a strong northeast r can generate a  devious swell. And the current. Oh, the current. We set the CQR off the bow, then swam a Danforth off the stern, to try and hold the boat into the breeze/swell. Lying beam on to the seas because the current is reorienting the boat is a special kind of suckage. The roll alone can make you seasick. Sleep is generally out of the question. The stern anchor helped though. And we felt especially clever until we tried to leave the next morning. We could not budge the stern anchor. The rode was bar tight .We actually had to wait for the current to switch before we could recover the stern anchor. We even dove on both anchors. They were buried. And by buried, we do not mean the anchors were well set. We mean they were buried. The rode leads to the chain which leads to the sand which leads to the… holy crap! The chain just disappears into the sand.

We finally cut loose of Allan’s Cay around 1 pm and sailed a boisterous reach 10 miles southeast to Shroud Cay. Shroud Cay is part of the Exumas National Park. The Park places mooring strategically around the nearby cays for the benefit of the cruising boats. We took one such mooring. No current. No swell. Sweet. After hugging each other multiple times, we settled down to a good night’s rest without even bothering to set the backup anchor alarm.

Nassau, Dec 7th – Dec 12th

The predominant breeze in the Bahamas is from the southeast. The breeze usually clocks right as a cold front approaches and blowsfrom the north for a fews days. Then it blows from the east as the transition back to the normal normal southeast breeze begins.

Notice dear reader that, during that short but highly informative description of the normal weather pattern, we did not ever once mention the W word. West. The breeze hardly ever blows from the west. It’s just a fact of weather in this part of the globe. No westerly winds. Cruisers in Australia and Indonesia have to worry about west breeze, maybe. But we don’t. No west winds. That’s why we anchored on the west side of Chub Cay.

Naturally, the breeze in the night shifted to the west and increased to almost 20 knots.

Peter, our friend on the Endeavor, started dragging about 1 am, gave up, and went into the nearby marina to get a few hours sleep. He tied up at the fuel dock and hoped the pricey marina would not charge him the $3 per foot they were charging the yachts (and we do mean yachts) that populated the rest of the marina.

Lucky for us, we did not start dragging until about 3 am. Rather than risk the vagueries of the fuel dock, we set all working canvas and made for Nassau, 50 miles away. You might wonder what we were thinking, leaving at 3am like that. To be quite honest, we had discussed the possibility of a west breeze and decided, well in advance, that if it sprang up, we would leave immediately for Nassau. So we did. Easy peasy.

We broke down and stayed at a marina in Nassau, Nassau Yacht Haven. The cruising guides say that anchoring in Nassau Harbor is difficult. Plus we were ready for a nice meal, an internet connection, and electricity. Sam especially needed the electricity. His XBox habit suffers considerably when we are anchored out, since battery charging is crucial. The refrigerator is the other casualty of anchoring. We tend to only run the reefer when motoring. The two independent reefer units, that More Cowbell houses, run off too much battery power otherwise.

Nassau is a tourist haven. Up to 6 cruise ships dock here at a time, and the tourists dominate the town when a cruise ship arrives. We had a busy schedule in Nassau; we did groceries and laundry, saw the historic sights, including Ft Charlotte, bought a fishing spear, and gambled at Paradise Island. We are proud to say that the blackjack table at Paradise Island paid our marina bill, an unexpected surprise. Dana made sure we pocketed our winnings and did not gamble them away at the $100 table.

Come Dec 10th, we were ready to leave. We left in the morning on a forecast of northeast breeze at 10-15 knots. We got east breeze at 20 knots. Of course we were going east. After 3 hours of motoring into 5 foot seas and 20 knots (sailing was out of the question since we were navigating in between coral heads) we took the cowardly way out and returned to Nassau. We changed the primary fuel filter (back pressure on the fuel system was high again) and did an oil change the same night. The motor needed some TLC after the aborted attempt to leave Nassau.

We tried again on the 12th; this time with a different route that allowed us to sail due south, around the coral heads, then tack and go east for Allan Cay. The waves were pretty serious. Average depth was abpout 20 feet and the wind was going close to 20 knots. We took water over the deck almost continually. Offshore swell is much easier to deal with than the short steep waves that develop on the Banks. The Caliber 40 really does not motor well into the waves. Speed decreases to 3 knots or less, even at max throttle. We were much better off sailing with a reefed main and jib, doing 6.5 knots with 4+ knots VMG.

The wind veered a little in the afternoon to the northeast. Evening on the 12th found us anchored at Allan’s Cay, a good all weather anchorage and one of the first Cays in the Exuma chain.

Crossing the Banks, Dec 5th, 6th

We staged the boat out to Cat Cay on the 4th, so we could get an early start crossing the Great Bahama Banks, bound for Chub Cay, in the Berry Islands. The Great Bahama Banks is a large submerged shelf in the middle of the Bahamas. Depths on the Banks rarely exceed 20 feet, and parts of the Banks sport isolated coral heads and shallow sand bars. Navigation is typically done by VPR (Visual Pilot Reckoning.) VPR means that an experienced Bahamian navigator can tell, by the color of the water, the depth within a few feet. For us, VPR means, “I reckon we’re gonna go aground about here.”

For those of you who don’t know, cay is pronounced key. In the US, it does not seem to matter how you pronounce it. Here in the Bahamas, only an ignorant foreigner pronounces it with a long a. I think they spell it that way just to trip us up.

We had some nervous moments on the morning of the 5th, when the depth meter reported less than 6 inches under the keel, but we persevered. We motor sailed for the early part of the day on the 5th, with the wind less than 5 knots. Then, gave way to pragmatism and just motored. We anchored on the Banks during the night. VPR just ain’t possible without the V. And then continued on the next morning as soon as the sun allowed us to put the V back in VPR.

Peter and his Endeavor 32 accompanied us the entire way across the Banks. His motor was not quite as strong as ours, so we had to slow down a bit. But he was willing to precede us across the shallow spots. We were quite happy to follow.

We dropped anchor on the west side of Chub Cay on the afternoon of the 6th. Mission accomplished. Peter motored his dinghy over to the back of the boat and suggested, “Let’s go kill some stuff.” we had never been spear fishing before. Peter showed us how to identify the rock ledges where lobster might live, and how to spot them by antennae sticking out from under the ledge. Then, he dove down 20 feet, cocked his surgical tubing powered spear, sighted carefully, released.

And speared an 18 inch lobster right through the top of the carapace.

Peter later got one more lobster, passed up a couple big grouper (for fear of losing the spear) then taught us how to harvest and clean the lobster tails. We bought our spear in Nassau the next week. Every day is now lobster day.

5 Days In Bimini, Nov 29 – Dec 4

We ran aground entering Bimini Harbor. We mistook a red channel buoy for an entrance buoy marked on the Explorer Charts. All the Bahamas charts are very clear on this point: Most buoys are privately or sporadically maintained. They may be missing or may have been moved. Don’t depend on them. Luckily, we ran aground the right way; with the deep water to leeward,  on a rising tide. So we just powered off. No harm done. Except to our nerves.

After the grounding,we were glad to get to the safety of a marina and hole up for a few days waiting for a norther to blow itself out. We spent 5 days in Bimini exploring the island, walking the beaches, and getting our first taste of conch fritters. We’ve since been told that the real Bahamas do not include Bimini. We were greatful for this, since Bimini was singularly unimpressive. The small town caters to sports fishermen, and much of the industry and all the history is set up for the sport. The museum boasted pictures of Ernest Hemingway. the best marina (closed while we were there) was called the Big Game Sports Fisherman’s Marina. A host of guides are available to take you to find that marlin.

The difference between the haves and the have nots was obvious in this town. The northern section of the island is an exclusive resort. The southern section is a colorful squalor of shacks and subsistence living. We were hassled in the street every time we went out; people wanted to act as our official guides in exchange for a few dollars. Or show us how to cut a coconut for a few dollars, or tell us where the hardware store was for a few dollars, or, well, you get the idea.

The best part of Bimini was the conch fritters, the crystal clear blue water, and meeting some fellow cruisers. Peter, a singlehander sailing an Endeavor 32,  became friends with the family and we typically met for evening cocktails on his boat or ours. Dana used her social skills one evening to start an impromptu dock party, whilst a power boater blared Beastie Boys tunes from his unnecessarily powerful speakers.

The best conversation in the nearly one full week we spent in Bimini went something like this:
Rick the Cruiser: This fish is a little dry.
Crusty Lady Cook At The End Of The World Bar: Dry? What you mean dry? Dat fish good fish.
Rick the Cruiser: I just mean that it seems to be overcooked.
Crusty Lady Cook At The End Of The World Bar: You want the tiki tiki? Wanna leave a grease spot every time you sit down?
Rick the Cruiser: Er. Ah… no? No.
Crusty Lady Cook At The End Of The World Bar: Das right. Eat de fish.
Rick the Cruiser: Yes ma’am.

After this experience, we typically greeted each other with the phrase, “You want the tiki tiki?”

Crossing the Stream, Nov 28th – 29th

The plan was to go to Long Cay. Stage northwards a bit up the Florida coast, then do a 60 or 80 miler across the Gulf Stream to Cat Cay or Bimini. But reaching northeast in 10 knots out of the southeast, clear skies, 1-2 foot waves in Hawk Channel, and a forecast for more of the same… we realized this was the perfect opportunity. If we sailed all night, we could be in Bimini by noon the next day.

Then the throttle cable broke.

For those of you unfamiliar with the operation of the throttle cable, it’s the piece of equipment on a small boat that makes the motor rev up and (more importantly) rev down. You can remove the companionway steps and reach under the hot motor and manually pull the throttle lever forwards and back. But you quickly grow tired of this after a few minutes. It’s like driving a car without an accelerator pedal and asking your friend to lean under the hood (while driving) and manually pull on the gas. It’s a no go. Showstopper.

As we contemplated returning to Marathon and paying some faceless mechanic to fix our throttle cable, I was prodded by the ghost of Lynn and Larry Pardey. Much as Obi-Wan talked to Luke from beyond the grave, so Larry and Lynn talked to me.

Me: My boat is Broken.
Lynn and Larry: You can fix it.
Me: I have not the materials
Lynn and Larry: You can fix it.
Me: Nor the talent, for that matter.
Lynn and Larry: Make your boat unstoppable.
Me: What?
Lynn and Larry: Unstoppable!
Me: Well, I guess I could tie some spectra to to the throttle lever.
Lynn and Larry:
Me: And lead it, via a pulley, to the lid of the companionway steps.
Lynn and Larry:
Me: Then, via another pulley, back to the steering station.
Lynn and Larry:
Me: But how do I reduce throttle?
Lynn and Larry:
Me:
Lynn and Larry: Unstoppable.
Me: Bungy?
Lynn and Larry:
Me: Yes. Bungy is the answer. Hallefreakinglujah.
Lynn and Larry: Watch your mouth.
Me: Sorry. Just got caught up in the moment.

So we did it. And we now drive our boat with a set of reins that is led from the throttle control on the motor back to the steering station. We should be recieving a new throttle cable sometime in December, and we’ll just swap it out then.

We rolled into Bimini around noon on the 29th. Tired but proud. We cleared customs and immigration. And the customs officer even referred to us as Captain. And we felt like one. Maybe for the first time.

We did nearly run aground on a sandbar near the entrance to Bimini Harbour. But that is a long story. And not nearly as interesting as the one we’ve told.

Unstoppable.

Marathon, Nov 26th – 28th

We left Bahia Honda around 9:00 AM on the 26th and had a beautiful sail in about 10-15 knots, beating with the jib and a reefed main. The boat balances much better with the reefed main. So sometimes, if we’ve got time to kill, We’ll just set the reef and loaf along. Not especially fast, but really comfortable.

We reached Marathon around noon. The harbor there, Boot Key Harbor, surprised us. I’ve driven through Marathon on Hwy 1 in the past, but never realized what a huge harbor they have. There must be close to 500 boats, either anchored or on mooring balls in the harbor. We probably should have grabbed a mooring ball, but instead opted for the expensive approach; staying at the Sombrero Dockside Marina and Lounge. Marina and Lounge sort of sold it for us.

The cruisers in Marathon do a cruiser’s net every morning on VHF 68. They do the weather, news, announcements, offers stuff to buy and sell, advertisements, and sometimes trivia. The trivia is patently awful, but the rest is pretty cool.

We did our first cruising potluck dinner on Thanksgiving Day. Sam was just grateful we had a place to watch the Cowboys game. We got into an argument with a fella (named Dave coincidentally) wearing a t-shirt that said “Republicans Love Torture.” Maybe it wasn’t an argument. More of a meeting of the minds. At one point, after leveling some tabloid like criticism at Dick Cheney, we responded, “Hmmm. That is interesting. Well, when we met him, he didn’t seem like the type that ate babies whole, but I guess anything is possible.” Ol Dave didn’t think that was very funny. But he was buying us pitchers by the end of the evening. So apparently we now have a new friend who thinks republicans love torture.

People love one dimensional villains. Bad guys do bad things because, well, they’re evil. And the public seems to expect powerful people to be evil. The machevellien dramas and cruel depravities attributed to our leaders just doesn’t grok with our idea of a normal person’s ego. In our experience, most people think that they are doing a good job. Even people who are definitely -not- doing a good job. Almost everyone we’ve ever met justifies their poor decisions by attributing that decision to things beyond their control. It takes an extraordinary lack of hubris to admit to a significant personal failing. It shouldn’t. But it does. Invariably, our favorite people are those that possess the humility to clinically regard a poor decision in the cold hard light of day, and admit their faults. To laugh at themselves if they must, but to admit they are like us. Cause everybody is. Some of us are just having trouble with the concept.

This is our Thanksgiving resolution: to laugh more at ourselves.