We left our lovely anchorage in the Berry Islands on Saturday, January 30. We wanted to go somewhere to restock provisions, refill our propane and maybe find a piece of hardware that Larry needed. We could go either to Nassau or Spanish Wells, both destinations within an easy day’s passage. After researching charts and guide books, and a few conversations with cruisers who were knowledgeable about Nassau, we chose Spanish Wells.
Our departure from the White Cay anchorage was uneventful, unlike our arrival. We headed into the Northwest Providence Channel and watched as the depth gauge recorded 53 feet, 281 feet and soon gave up on recording the depth altogether. The chart said 2000 feet. That was good enough for us.
At the tip of Eleuthera a number of islands enclose a shallow, protected sound. The approach to Spanish Wells through that sound is shallow enough that our boat, drawing 6’4” might ground at low water. Furthermore, in the Bahamas, someone should always be reading the water when crossing the shallow banks, a task requiring bright overhead sunlight.We arrived at the sound late in the afternoon, not enough sun for reading the bottom. There is an easy channel through the sound to the entrance of a lovely harbor at Royal Island, and we chose that anchorage where we could wait for the right combination of tide and light for the entrance to Spanish Wells.
When the day came, we found ourselves in a virtual parade of three boats from Royal Island to Spanish Wells. The mooring field has only 7 moorings, and after we arrived, only one was left. During our visit, many boats came and went, and sometimes all 7 were taken.
Spanish Wells is nothing like Nassau. Nassau is a busy metropolitan community with a reputation for violence and crime. Spanish Wells has a population probably less than 2000 where the theft of a golf cart by two joy-riding teenagers is big news. Golf carts are more numerous than cars on the streets, although many people have one of each. Stores are small, and with they all close Noon – 1:30PM for lunch. Except for Pinder’s, they close all afternoon on Wednesday. We found that all stores of any type were small, poorly lit, and usually had bare spaces on the shelves. The person in attendance at the store might or might not know the products but was inevitably friendly and helpful in every way.
We met some lovely people in Spanish Wells. We enjoyed getting to know Tom and Jordan aboard the catamaran St. Christopher. We met Tom and Jean, retired cruisers who live in Spanish Wells, but still take their identity from their boat, M/V Amadon Light. S/V Samba from Baltimore moored nearby for a couple of days. We visited the Methodist Church on Sunday and were welcomed warmly. Diana and Wayne aboard S/V CAVU arrived in the mooring field on Monday, the 8th, and it took about 5 minutes to become their lifelong friends.
During our first day at Spanish Wells, we decided to go looking for Larry’s hardware piece. We tied up the dinghy beside Pinder’s Grocery and went inside just to look around. They told us that we might find Larry’s hardware at Ronald’s store a few blocks away, so we got back in the dinghy and motored along the shore looking for a place to tie up near Ronald’s. We found nothing until we were almost back to the mooring field. Then we saw some steps leading up from the water to the street. It was low tide, so we had to wade after grounding the dinghy. We have a long painter, which was convenient for tying up the dinghy in this situation.
While Larry was finishing the tie-up, an elderly man standing beside the street came over and introduced himself. He was curious about who we were and where we came from and our boat and our mission ashore. When he found out that we were headed for Ronald’s store, he said, “Oh, he won’t be open today. It’s Wednesday.” Well, for starters, we had both forgotten that it was Wednesday, but if we had remembered, we would not have expected stores to close. In the US, it used to be that doctors all closed on Wednesday afternoon, but that practice seems to be a thing of the past in our multi-tasking world where even kindergartners have planners. In Spanish Wells, I don’t think anyone owns a planner.
Our new friend, Mason, certainly didn’t have one. When he realized that our plans were doomed to failure that day, he invited us into his home. His house is right across the street from the steps where we were tying up. In the US, you would never expect someone to invite a complete stranger into his home, especially if that stranger just arrived in town by boat. We were a bit nervous about the invitation, but we needn’t have been. Mason was genuine and very hospitable.
Inside, we met his wife Donna, who was just as delightful as Mason. We visited with them for a while before Donna said, “You are cruisers. You should meet Tom and Jean who live behind us. They used to cruise, too, and they love meeting new cruisers.” She led us out the back door and across the yard to meet Tom and Jean, but not before she presented me with two tomatoes and two peppers. “You might like to have something fresh,” she said.
We walked over to Tom and Jean’s house where we were greeted warmly. Tom and Jean retired from permanent cruising to a home on land several years ago. They keep their trawler M/V Amadon Light on a mooring near Charles Island, very close to the location where our boat was moored. As soon as greetings had been exchanged, Jean invited us to join other boaters due to arrive soon for cocktails on the porch. The custom is that whoever joins them brings something and everybody shares. Unfortunately, we had not prepared, but Jean made us welcome anyway. Tom and Jordan from St Christopher arrived first, then Pat and Miriam from Skye2. Jean had invited Donna and Mason when they introduced us, and they came along later. Finally, Pat from the catamaran Miss Kitty stopped by with a tale of woe regarding their repairs. He was invited to join the party, so he hurried away, returning shortly with his wife Lyn. That little front porch buzzed with chatter and laughter and good fellowship.
After we left, we felt we had been among good friends, even though we hardly knew any of the people. In our subsequent comings and goings around the island we kept running into one or another of the people who had enjoyed that cocktail hour. I decided that we needed to repay our social obligations, so I made some date bread. We took the bread with us on Sunday when we visited the Methodist Church and distributed it afterward.
When we stopped at Donna and Mason’s house, they invited us in. We had intended to simply drop off the bread and go back to the boat, but they would have none of it. We went in and visited for a few minutes before we realized that they were about to sit down to lunch. We tried to excuse ourselves, and Donna said, “Well come back soon. By the way, would you like to watch the Super Bowl with us tonight?” Would we? We would, indeed. We returned shortly after 6:30PM with some snacks to share, and the party was on. We had missed the kickoff, but we saw most of the game. It was one of the best Super Bowl games I have ever seen.
I chose to cheer for the Saints. It was a difficult choice. My brother lives in Indiana, so I wondered if I should support the Colts. However, I love Cajun food, and food won. The Saints won, too. We all whooped it up, especially through the second half. During commercial breaks, Mason entertained with some great stories. When the evening was over, we both agreed that we could not have had more fun anywhere.
On another day, I walked to the Food Fair to pick up a few more things. On my first trip, I didn’t know the store, and I failed to find some of the things I wanted. Since we remained in Spanish Wells longer than we had originally planned, I thought I would try to find some of the things I missed on the first trip.
Spanish Wells is on a very small island. The island is no more than a half mile wide, so I walked across to the beach on the Atlantic side and walked the beach to get to the store. It was low tide, the sun was shining, the breeze was pleasant and the water was gorgeous. The beach was completely deserted except for a backhoe and its operator working on a seawall along the way to the store. I had a delightful walk.
At Food Fair, I was fortunate to find most of the things I had missed on my first trip. I had to plan my purchases carefully, because I needed to be sure I could carry them back to the dock where Larry would come for me in the dinghy. After I paid for my purchases and walked outside, I stopped to adjust things in one of the bags for better balance. A lady with bags in her hands approached me.
“Where are you going?” she asked. I pointed across the street. “I’m going to 18th street and then down to the water,” I said.
“Oh, good. Can you give me a lift?” she asked. Regrettably, I had to decline, since I was afoot also. We fell into conversation, and I learned that she is visiting friends on the island. Her home is Quebec, and the Bahamas are much nicer in the winter than her small home town in Canada. Eventually our paths diverged and we went our separate ways. It seems to be typical of this little town that everyone talks to everyone regardless of whether they actually know each other.
So here we are still. The weather for the next few days will not be optimal for cruising. We are tucked in at a location that is safe regardless of wind direction and speed, up to hurricane force. No hurricanes are imminent here, although the storm that has pounded the US is predicted become an extratropical storm at hurricane strength. We are thankful that it is far enough away that we will feel only distant small effects from it. One of the delights of cruising is the freedom to stay or go for whatever reason seems good. We plan to remain through Saturday and leave early Sunday morning with the tide. In the meantime, we will continue to enjoy our friends and neighbors in Spanish Wells.
We left our lovely anchorage in the Berry Islands on Saturday, January 30. We wanted to go somewhere to restock provisions, refill our propane and maybe find a piece of hardware that Larry needed. We could go either to Nassau or Spanish Wells, both destinations within an easy day’s passage. After researching charts and guide books, and a few conversations with cruisers who were knowledgeable about Nassau, we chose Spanish Wells.
Our departure from the White Cay anchorage was uneventful, unlike our arrival. We headed into the Northwest Providence Channel and watched as the depth gauge recorded 53 feet, 281 feet and soon gave up on recording the depth altogether. The chart said 2000 feet. That was good enough for us.
At the tip of Eleuthera a number of islands enclose a shallow, protected sound. The approach to Spanish Wells through that sound is shallow enough that our boat, drawing 6’4” might ground at low water. Furthermore, in the Bahamas, someone should always be reading the water when crossing the shallow banks, a task requiring bright overhead sunlight.We arrived at the sound late in the afternoon, not enough sun for reading the bottom. There is an easy channel through the sound to the entrance of a lovely harbor at Royal Island, and we chose that anchorage where we could wait for the right combination of tide and light for the entrance to Spanish Wells.
When the day came, we found ourselves in a virtual parade of three boats from Royal Island to Spanish Wells. The mooring field has only 7 moorings, and after we arrived, only one was left. During our visit, many boats came and went, and sometimes all 7 were taken.
Spanish Wells is nothing like Nassau. Nassau is a busy metropolitan community with a reputation for violence and crime. Spanish Wells has a population probably less than 2000 where the theft of a golf cart by two joy-riding teenagers is big news. Golf carts are more numerous than cars on the streets, although many people have one of each. Stores are small, and with they all close Noon – 1:30PM for lunch. Except for Pinder’s, they close all afternoon on Wednesday. We found that all stores of any type were small, poorly lit, and usually had bare spaces on the shelves. The person in attendance at the store might or might not know the products but was inevitably friendly and helpful in every way.
We met some lovely people in Spanish Wells. We enjoyed getting to know Tom and Jordan aboard the catamaran St. Christopher. We met Tom and Jean, retired cruisers who live in Spanish Wells, but still take their identity from their boat, M/V Amadon Light. S/V Samba from Baltimore moored nearby for a couple of days. We visited the Methodist Church on Sunday and were welcomed warmly. Diana and Wayne aboard S/V CAVU arrived in the mooring field on Monday, the 8th, and it took about 5 minutes to become their lifelong friends.
During our first day at Spanish Wells, we decided to go looking for Larry’s hardware piece. We tied up the dinghy beside Pinder’s Grocery and went inside just to look around. They told us that we might find Larry’s hardware at Ronald’s store a few blocks away, so we got back in the dinghy and motored along the shore looking for a place to tie up near Ronald’s. We found nothing until we were almost back to the mooring field. Then we saw some steps leading up from the water to the street. It was low tide, so we had to wade after grounding the dinghy. We have a long painter, which was convenient for tying up the dinghy in this situation.
While Larry was finishing the tie-up, an elderly man standing beside the street came over and introduced himself. He was curious about who we were and where we came from and our boat and our mission ashore. When he found out that we were headed for Ronald’s store, he said, “Oh, he won’t be open today. It’s Wednesday.” Well, for starters, we had both forgotten that it was Wednesday, but if we had remembered, we would not have expected stores to close. In the US, it used to be that doctors all closed on Wednesday afternoon, but that practice seems to be a thing of the past in our multi-tasking world where even kindergartners have planners. In Spanish Wells, I don’t think anyone owns a planner.
Our new friend, Mason, certainly didn’t have one. When he realized that our plans were doomed to failure that day, he invited us into his home. His house is right across the street from the steps where we were tying up. In the US, you would never expect someone to invite a complete stranger into his home, especially if that stranger just arrived in town by boat. We were a bit nervous about the invitation, but we needn’t have been. Mason was genuine and very hospitable.
Inside, we met his wife Donna, who was just as delightful as Mason. We visited with them for a while before Donna said, “You are cruisers. You should meet Tom and Jean who live behind us. They used to cruise, too, and they love meeting new cruisers.” She led us out the back door and across the yard to meet Tom and Jean, but not before she presented me with two tomatoes and two peppers. “You might like to have something fresh,” she said.
We walked over to Tom and Jean’s house where we were greeted warmly. Tom and Jean retired from permanent cruising to a home on land several years ago. They keep their trawler M/V Amadon Light on a mooring near Charles Island, very close to the location where our boat was moored. As soon as greetings had been exchanged, Jean invited us to join other boaters due to arrive soon for cocktails on the porch. The custom is that whoever joins them brings something and everybody shares. Unfortunately, we had not prepared, but Jean made us welcome anyway. Tom and Jordan from St Christopher arrived first, then Pat and Miriam from Skye2. Jean had invited Donna and Mason when they introduced us, and they came along later. Finally, Pat from the catamaran Miss Kitty stopped by with a tale of woe regarding their repairs. He was invited to join the party, so he hurried away, returning shortly with his wife Lyn. That little front porch buzzed with chatter and laughter and good fellowship.
After we left, we felt we had been among good friends, even though we hardly knew any of the people. In our subsequent comings and goings around the island we kept running into one or another of the people who had enjoyed that cocktail hour. I decided that we needed to repay our social obligations, so I made some date bread. We took the bread with us on Sunday when we visited the Methodist Church and distributed it afterward.
When we stopped at Donna and Mason’s house, they invited us in. We had intended to simply drop off the bread and go back to the boat, but they would have none of it. We went in and visited for a few minutes before we realized that they were about to sit down to lunch. We tried to excuse ourselves, and Donna said, “Well come back soon. By the way, would you like to watch the Super Bowl with us tonight?” Would we? We would, indeed. We returned shortly after 6:30PM with some snacks to share, and the party was on. We had missed the kickoff, but we saw most of the game. It was one of the best Super Bowl games I have ever seen.
I chose to cheer for the Saints. It was a difficult choice. My brother lives in Indiana, so I wondered if I should support the Colts. However, I love Cajun food, and food won. The Saints won, too. We all whooped it up, especially through the second half. During commercial breaks, Mason entertained with some great stories. When the evening was over, we both agreed that we could not have had more fun anywhere.
On another day, I walked to the Food Fair to pick up a few more things. On my first trip, I didn’t know the store, and I failed to find some of the things I wanted. Since we remained in Spanish Wells longer than we had originally planned, I thought I would try to find some of the things I missed on the first trip.
Spanish Wells is on a very small island. The island is no more than a half mile wide, so I walked across to the beach on the Atlantic side and walked the beach to get to the store. It was low tide, the sun was shining, the breeze was pleasant and the water was gorgeous. The beach was completely deserted except for a backhoe and its operator working on a seawall along the way to the store. I had a delightful walk.
At Food Fair, I was fortunate to find most of the things I had missed on my first trip. I had to plan my purchases carefully, because I needed to be sure I could carry them back to the dock where Larry would come for me in the dinghy. After I paid for my purchases and walked outside, I stopped to adjust things in one of the bags for better balance. A lady with bags in her hands approached me.
“Where are you going?” she asked. I pointed across the street. “I’m going to 18th street and then down to the water,” I said.
“Oh, good. Can you give me a lift?” she asked. Regrettably, I had to decline, since I was afoot also. We fell into conversation, and I learned that she is visiting friends on the island. Her home is Quebec, and the Bahamas are much nicer in the winter than her small home town in Canada. Eventually our paths diverged and we went our separate ways. It seems to be typical of this little town that everyone talks to everyone regardless of whether they actually know each other.
So here we are still. The weather for the next few days will not be optimal for cruising. We are tucked in at a location that is safe regardless of wind direction and speed, up to hurricane force. No hurricanes are imminent here, although the storm that has pounded the US is predicted become an extratropical storm at hurricane strength. We are thankful that it is far enough away that we will feel only distant small effects from it. One of the delights of cruising is the freedom to stay or go for whatever reason seems good. We plan to remain through Saturday and leave early Sunday morning with the tide. In the meantime, we will continue to enjoy our friends and neighbors in Spanish Wells.
Sunday, January 24
This morning’s weather reports confirmed our analysis yesterday. It didn’t look good for us to negotiate the entrance under sail before Tuesday. We just had to be patient.
Larry planned to take another stab at making the diesel engine work again, but before anything else we set aside time for worship. Even before we started cruising, we planned that if our circumstances prevented us from visiting a church, we would worship on board. As we talked about the situation, we both felt that we had a great deal to be thankful for. It felt like the worst possible decision not to spend time in worship on this day. Our wonderful new friends on S/V Duet who had helped us learn how to get off the reef, the help we received from M/B Cutting Edge, and the safety of our anchorage after all these troubles were all gifts from our God who never abandoned us. We played Dr. Davis’ CD of music on the organ at Christ Church and got ready for worship. It was wonderful.
Afterward, we felt reassured and confident of the presence of God. We had a nice breakfast, and then Larry went to work on the engine.
Everyone who has done trouble-shooting knows the difference between trying to solve a problem when you feel that there really is not time to do the job. You need to get done and right now is already late. On this wonderful Sunday, Larry started on the job knowing that our condition was one of safety and relative comfort. It certainly was a concern that the engine wasn’t running, but it was no threat to us. We had a boat full of food and supplies. Our generator kept us supplied with electricity. Larry could take his time on this problem and cover all the bases.
My only job thoughout was to push the start button. When asked, I pushed. Sometimes nothing happened. Sometimes there was a tentative cranking sound. Then came the moment when he said, “This time, keep the button down until the engine starts or until I tell you to stop.” I pushed. The engine cranked. I was about to despair when it roared to life. I felt like floating on air. I turned to run down to the cabin and there was Larry with a big smile on his face. “Praise the Lord!” he shouted. “Amen!” I shouted. I think we danced or flew or something. That big loud engine sounded like the finest music we had ever heard.
We left the engine running for a while, just to be sure it would keep going. We were ecstatic. It was like finding the last piece for a 5000-piece puzzle behind a dust bunny under the bed. We were giddy.
This experience was very challenging, but it was never a disaster, and we were never in real danger. Everything we needed was provided for us. How could we ever doubt that God knew exactly where we were and knew exactly what we needed?
The beauty of it all was that the moment the engine caught, we were no longer the victims of a wrong turn trying to get by; we were cruising again! We could enjoy the beautiful location in which we found ourselves, and that we did. In fact, we remained there for five more days, just because it was a neat place to be.
As for the devil and the details, the night before, S/V Windseeker II had anchored nearby, and while Larry was working on the engine, I had seen the mast of Windseeker from where I was working in the cabin. Just as our engine came to life, we saw Windseeker throwing out an anchor in a very strange location in the cove. They had been anchored in a very calm location west of us, but as we watched they were trying to anchor in a part of the cove where tidal currents and wind create a very confused surge, not a place where most boats would want to anchor. We wondered why they moved on purpose to that location.
Then suddenly, we heard them calling us on the radio. It turned out that as they were trying to leave the cove, their engine quit. It was running one minute, and it wasn’t running the next minute. They threw out the anchor where the engine quit, which wasn’t the most congenial or comfortable place for them. Larry and Windseeker’s captain talked over the problem and shared their miseries. Windseeker’s captain said, “Isn’t there an island around here with ‘Devil’ in its name. Maybe that is the explanation.” After a couple of hours, they got their engine going and left us behind.
Several days later we decided to bypass Nassau and sail over to Royal Island near the island of Eleuthera. It was a wonderful sail, and the harbor is grand. By the time you read this log we will have moved to Spanish Wells, just a few miles from Royal Island. We are truly cruising now and discovering new adventures daily. This is what we came to do.
This experience has taught us a lot. There may not be a log to follow this one very soon. Or we may get to post another before we leave Spanish Wells. The reality is that we cannot predict from day to day what our access will be. People who have traveled along the coast of Eleuthera and through the Exumas tell us it will be intermittent. So don’t worry. We will be fine. We will share the adventure when we can.
Saturday, January 23
A new day did, indeed, dawn on Saturday. The first thing we realized was that we would not be able to sail the boat out on this day. The wind was coming in from the east, pushing large waves right into the entrance to our cove. The waves were somewhat reduced by the shoals at the entrance, but they still rocked us very much. However, a check of our GPS coordinates showed that our anchors were holding firmly. We were not moving.
That was good news. After breakfast, Larry undertook to work on the engine again, but he had no luck. Sometimes the engine coughed. Sometimes it did nothing at all. Sometimes it made sounds that we did not like.
By mid-morning, we felt that we had to assess our situation realistically. The engine was not working. Our best chance to leave appeared to be the following Tuesday on the ebb tide with a southerly wind in the 10-15 knot range. We had never taken this boat out of an anchorage without engine power, but we used to do it with our MacGregor, and we felt that Tuesday looked doable. If we succeeded in getting out of the cove, then we knew we could negotiate the big water to get to a location with a diesel mechanic.
No matter where we went, however, we faced the prospect of paying someone to tow us into the harbor. If we went to Nassau, we would have to pay the Bahamian rescue service for a tow. Bill had told us that cost might be considerable. We would also be completely out of our element looking for a diesel mechanic in this unfamiliar community. If we went back to Florida, however, we could call TowBoat US, which is covered by our insurance, and we could go to North Palm Beach, where we have a friend who might be able to help us find a good diesel mechanic. We felt that this option made more sense for us.
As we were talking through these issues, Bill from Duet called on the radio, just to see how we were doing. We shared our thoughts with him, and he said he thought our logic made sense, too.
When this conversation was over, Larry went forward to check our anchors, as he had been doing frequently during this ordeal. He came back with a worried expression. “We have a problem,” he said. The problem was, indeed, worrisome. When we deployed the anchors the day before, we put the primary out first, as you might expect. Having established ourselves in a safe position with that anchor, we still thought that since we were in the path of the daily tidal flow, it would be a good idea to have two anchors. When we deployed the second one, we actually set ourselves up for a problem.
The primary anchor has all chain rode, but the secondary has only 75 feet of chain. The remainder of its rode is rope. When Larry inspected the anchors, he discovered that the rope rode was chafing against metal on the bow. We needed to put something around the rode to prevent the chafing. If we couldn’t put a stop to it, the rode would part and we would lose that anchor. It was a serious problem.
We tried a couple of ideas, but they were not very good. It was hard to add this gear when the anchor was under so much stress, and as the boat bobbed up and down in the wave, the anti-chafe gear moved, leaving the rode exposed to more chafing.
We were in a bad way. We could not leave, because you cannot sail a boat into the wind. We could not stay, because we were in danger of losing our anchor. We struggled with the anti-chafe gear, but it simply would not stay put.
Then we heard Bill call on the radio. “No Boundaries, No Boundaries. Duet.” It turned out that he had seen a big powerboat with two huge outboards pass by. He hailed that boat, and the captain agreed to come and help us move. The captain of M/V Cutting Edge must be another angel. He was very patient and helpful. We pulled our two anchors, and Cutting Edge towed us to a safe and comfortable anchorage beside the white sand beach on White Cay. The water was much quieter, and we felt very safe there. The holding was adequate with one anchor, because we were out of the current. We breathed a sigh of relief and gave thanks to God for this safe and comfortable place to stay.
By this time, it was late in the afternoon. We still didn’t have engine power, but we could relax a bit. With a safe and peaceful anchorage, we could take our time worrying about the engine.
Many times during the day I thought of my son. It was his birthday, and it was the first time I had ever been unable to wish him a happy birthday on the day itself. I had sent cards and notes ahead of time to wish him well. We were all more or less prepared for the reality that we won’t have internet every time we might like it. It still felt strange.
We had a nice dinner, listened to some good music and got a good night’s sleep.
Day 3 will post tomorrow.
Friday, January 22
When we left Port Lucaya, we warned all our readers that it would be a while before we had internet again. We were right. However, I did not think it would be as long as it has actually been. This is a learning experience for all of us. My expectations for the interval were probably shorter than yours. We had a plan that didn’t turn out, and that is likely to be a pattern with us now. We are into a cruising experience that does not lend itself to schedules or multi-tasking or productivity planning.
The most important variable every day is the weather. We are very faithful to listen at 6:30AM every day to Chris Parker, the resident meteorologist for the Bahamas and the Caribbean. We try to hear some other broadcasts as well, but we make it a point not to miss his. The weather forecast guides our preparations. If we are at anchor, we evaluate our setting for its value as shelter for the winds predicted that day. If we are planning to cruise, we study the forecast for a good opportunity to reach our destination without bad weather, big winds or ugly seas.
I describe this process, because it is important to help you understand our past few days.
We left Port Lucaya early on the morning of Wednesday, January 20. Our destination was Great Harbor, a large anchorage just south of Great Stirrup Cay. If you look on Google maps for the Berry Islands in the Bahamas, the Stirrup Cays are on the northeast tip of that group of islands. We spent a couple of days there enjoying the clear water and watching cruise ship passengers play in the water.
On Friday, January 22, we headed south planning to go to Frazers Hog Cay. However, as happens sometimes, along the way we spied a little cove that looked interesting and decided to stop there first. We thought that if we didn’t like it, we could continue the next day to our original destination. This little cove is bounded by White Cay, Devils Cay. and Saddleback Cay. Here is where the devil comes in.
We studied the chart and the guide books. The entrance is narrow and bounded by rocks. One must pay close attention going in, and it is important to make a turn to starboard at the right point to get to the marked anchorage off the lovely white sand beach of White Cay. However, sometimes little islands like these do not look the same in reality as they looked in our minds when studying the chart.
We turned into the entrance, and that part worked well, Unfortunately, as we passed the rocky shoal that guards the entrance, we became disoriented and continued too far past the spot where we should have turned. Before we realized the error, we ran aground on a rocky reef. The tide was coming in, and the tidal current no doubt moved us toward the reef faster than we recognized. We attempted to use the engine to back off and then to turn around, but in the middle of our efforts the engine stopped. It refused to restart. We were in a mess.
Experienced Bahamian cruisers say, just as ICW cruisers say, that there are two kinds of cruisers: those who have gone aground, and those who lie. Experienced Bahamian cruisers are fairly nonchalant about this sort of a predicament. We were not and are not yet experienced Bahamian cruisers. We are still learning how to do it.
In the US, a situation like this is very annoying, but no big deal. You call a towboat, you pay the bill, and you move on. In the Bahamas, there are no official towboats. The Bahamian volunteer rescue service focuses on life-and-death emergencies, which our problem was not. However, we made a radio call attempting to connect with someone who could help, and thanks to the kindness and experience of Bill and Barb on S/V Duet, a catamaran anchored nearby behind Devils Cay, we received the help we needed.
Bill and Barb have been cruising the Bahamas for 34 years. They are quite humble about their experience, saying that they have already made all the mistakes, so they know how to help other people. The fact is that they give of themselves without any accounting. They are generous and kind and they go above and beyond any sort of obligation to help one’s neighbor. We think they are angels.
When Bill and Barb arrived, we had just deployed our dinghy. Larry was in the dinghy with the anchor, and I was hauling anchor chain out, loading it in the dinghy. Our plan was to set the anchor in deeper water and use it to pull ourselves off the reef. We had the theory of the process right, but we might never have succeeded without Bill and Barb.
Before they arrived, we had set all our sails, hoping to catch the wind that was blowing in the direction we wanted to go toward deep water, but every time the wind pushed us toward deep water, the current pushed us back to shallow water. We were making no progress toward deep water, and the sails were doing what sails usually do, pulling us forward. By the time they got there we had moved dangerously close to Saddleback Cay, but we were so busy trying to deploy the anchor that we had lost our focus on the effect of the sails. Bill and Barb boiled out of their dinghy and doused the sails. That stopped our crawl toward Saddleback and allowed everyone to focus on the goal of getting the boat back into deep water.
The whole situation was made much more difficult by the wind and current that buffeted us and tried to take us all where nobody wanted to go. However, we were quite fortunate that we ran aground on a rising tide. Even though the current of the rising tide was against us, when it finally turned, it worked with us. The wind was blowing in the a helpful direction, but until the tide turned, it could not give us any headway against the tidal current. After the tide turned, the wind, the current, and all our efforts were pulling the boat toward deep water.
Larry and Bill worked together to set first one anchor, then the other. Barb and I were on deck pulling the anchor rode in. That is how we caused the boat to move.
It was a time for celebration when we finally had the boat floating. We used both of our anchors to pull us into a better position, and finally we were in a location where even the swing of the boat on our primary anchor was unlikely to run on the reef again. Because we were in the path of the tidal current, however, we deployed the second anchor to assure that we were not pushed to a less desirable position. Whew!
Our location was exposed to the cove entrance, but it was a good jumping-off place for us to sail out whenever the wind was right. Since we did not have a working engine, it seemed possible that we might have to do that. We thanked Bill and Barb profusely, and they went back to their day, planning to do some diving in the time remaining.
Several times throughout the days to come, Barb and Bill checked on our well-being. It wasn’t enough that they had put their lives aside for us at the time of crisis. They continued to be concerned for us. When another boat ran aground in a different nearby location, Bill and Barb again made time to help them and followed up with them, too. Both we and the crew of the S/V Mary Rose agree that the S/V Duet has a crew of angels.
Larry and I sat quietly in the cockpit trying to collect ourselves. We were both exhausted. We could not imagine how Bill and Barb would be in the mood to go diving after wearing themselves out helping us. Larry made a few stabs at starting the engine, but it simply refused. We were in a safe place, we could take our time working on the next step, so we simply let go of the problem. It is hard to describe, but we both felt that God was very much watching over us, and we could be at peace about this situation. We had a nice dinner, we took showers, we got a good night’s sleep. A fresh new day would dawn in the morning.
Tomorrow, Day 2 will post.
Friday, January 22
Aboard No Boundaries
When we left Port Lucaya, we warned all our readers that it would be a while before we had internet again. We were right. However, I did not think it would be as long as it has actually been. This is a learning experience for all of us. My expectations for the interval were probably shorter than yours. We had a plan that didn’t turn out, and that is likely to be a pattern with us now. We are into a cruising experience that does not lend itself to schedules or multi-tasking or productivity planning.
The most important variable every day is the weather. We are very faithful to listen at 6:30AM every day to Chris Parker, the resident meteorologist for the Bahamas and the Caribbean. We try to hear some other broadcasts as well, but we make it a point not to miss his. The weather forecast guides our preparations. If we are at anchor, we evaluate our setting for its value as shelter for the winds predicted that day. If we are planning to cruise, we study the forecast for a good opportunity to reach our destination without bad weather, big winds or ugly seas.
I describe this process, because it is important to help you understand our past few days.
We left Port Lucaya early on the morning of Wednesday, January 20. Our destination was Great Harbor, a large anchorage just south of Great Stirrup Cay. If you look on Google maps for the Berry Islands in the Bahamas, the Stirrup Cays are on the northeast tip of that group of islands. We spent a couple of days there enjoying the clear water and watching cruise ship passengers play in the water.
On Friday, January 22, we headed south planning to go to Frazers Hog Cay. However, as happens sometimes, along the way we spied a little cove that looked interesting and decided to stop there first. We thought that if we didn’t like it, we could continue the next day to our original destination. This little cove is bounded by White Cay, Devils Cay. and Saddleback Cay. Here is where the devil comes in.
We studied the chart and the guide books. The entrance is narrow and bounded by rocks. One must pay close attention going in, and it is important to make a turn to starboard at the right point to get to the marked anchorage off the lovely white sand beach of White Cay. However, sometimes little islands like these do not look the same in reality as they looked in our minds when studying the chart.
We turned into the entrance, and that part worked well, Unfortunately, as we passed the rocky shoal that guards the entrance, we became disoriented and continued too far past the spot where we should have turned. Before we realized the error, we ran aground on a rocky reef. The tide was coming in, and the tidal current no doubt moved us toward the reef faster than we recognized. We attempted to use the engine to back off and then to turn around, but in the middle of our efforts the engine stopped. It refused to restart. We were in a mess.
Experienced Bahamian cruisers say, just as ICW cruisers say, that there are two kinds of cruisers: those who have gone aground, and those who lie. Experienced Bahamian cruisers are fairly nonchalant about this sort of a predicament. We were not and are not yet experienced Bahamian cruisers. We are still learning how to do it.
In the US, a situation like this is very annoying, but no big deal. You call a towboat, you pay the bill, and you move on. In the Bahamas, there are no official towboats. The Bahamian volunteer rescue service focuses on life-and-death emergencies, which our problem was not. However, we made a radio call attempting to connect with someone who could help, and thanks to the kindness and experience of Bill and Barb on S/V Duet, a catamaran anchored nearby behind Devils Cay, we received the help we needed.
Bill and Barb have been cruising the Bahamas for 34 years. They are quite humble about their experience, saying that they have already made all the mistakes, so they know how to help other people. The fact is that they give of themselves without any accounting. They are generous and kind and they go above and beyond any sort of obligation to help one’s neighbor. We think they are angels.
When Bill and Barb arrived, we had just deployed our dinghy. Larry was in the dinghy with the anchor, and I was hauling anchor chain out, loading it in the dinghy. Our plan was to set the anchor in deeper water and use it to pull ourselves off the reef. We had the theory of the process right, but we might never have succeeded without Bill and Barb.
Before they arrived, we had set all our sails, hoping to catch the wind that was blowing in the direction we wanted to go toward deep water, but every time the wind pushed us toward deep water, the current pushed us back to shallow water. We were making no progress toward deep water, and the sails were doing what sails usually do, pulling us forward. By the time they got there we had moved dangerously close to Saddleback Cay, but we were so busy trying to deploy the anchor that we had lost our focus on the effect of the sails. Bill and Barb boiled out of their dinghy and doused the sails. That stopped our crawl toward Saddleback and allowed everyone to focus on the goal of getting the boat back into deep water.
The whole situation was made much more difficult by the wind and current that buffeted us and tried to take us all where nobody wanted to go. However, we were quite fortunate that we ran aground on a rising tide. Even though the current of the rising tide was against us, when it finally turned, it worked with us. The wind was blowing in the a helpful direction, but until the tide turned, it could not give us any headway against the tidal current. After the tide turned, the wind, the current, and all our efforts were pulling the boat toward deep water.
Larry and Bill worked together to set first one anchor, then the other. Barb and I were on deck pulling the anchor rode in. That is how we caused the boat to move.
It was a time for celebration when we finally had the boat floating. We used both of our anchors to pull us into a better position, and finally we were in a location where even the swing of the boat on our primary anchor was unlikely to run on the reef again. Because we were in the path of the tidal current, however, we deployed the second anchor to assure that we were not pushed to a less desirable position. Whew!
Our location was exposed to the cove entrance, but it was a good jumping-off place for us to sail out whenever the wind was right. Since we did not have a working engine, it seemed possible that we might have to do that. We thanked Bill and Barb profusely, and they went back to their day, planning to do some diving in the time remaining.
Several times throughout the days to come, Barb and Bill checked on our well-being. It wasn’t enough that they had put their lives aside for us at the time of crisis. They continued to be concerned for us. When another boat ran aground in a different nearby location, Bill and Barb again made time to help them and followed up with them, too. Both we and the crew of the S/V Mary Rose agree that the S/V Duet has a crew of angels.
Larry and I sat quietly in the cockpit trying to collect ourselves. We were both exhausted. We could not imagine how Bill and Barb would be in the mood to go diving after wearing themselves out helping us. Larry made a few stabs at starting the engine, but it simply refused. We were in a safe place, we could take our time working on the next step, so we simply let go of the problem. It is hard to describe, but we both felt that God was very much watching over us, and we could be at peace about this situation. We had a nice dinner, we took showers, we got a good night’s sleep. A fresh new day would dawn in the morning.
Tomorrow, Day 2 will post.
When we travel by car to unfamiliar places we use a road map. The map shows us the roads we should follow in order to reach our destination. Sometimes there is more than one reasonable choice, and we choose whether speed or sightseeing is more important. Sometimes construction projects in progress interfere with our free choices and send us along bumpy, constricted detours. However, our travel in a car is pretty much limited to actual roads. In a car we seldom take off across fields and hillsides, although someone with a free-wheeling jeep might try it from time to time. This method of travel is the only automotive option that much resembles cruising.
When we cruise, we have maps that we call charts. They show us the boundaries of the water and its depths where the depth has been measured. Nautical charts also display a wealth of other information: shoals that may or may not be visible, the boundaries of routes and channels frequented by commercial vessels, secure areas where we are prohibited from sailing, rocks, radio towers, shipwrecks and so forth. All this information is intended to help us choose a route that will get us safely to our destination or safely allow us to view beautiful shorelines or reefs.
It is hard to say which element of information we use most, but the depth is a heavy contender for top spot. In a sailboat, we are very concerned with the depth. Our deep keel, which keeps us safe in rowdy waters at sea, limits the depths in which we can maneuver. Our boat, No Boundaries, has a keel that rides 6 feet 4 inches below the waterline. The measurement means that if we know that the water ahead of us is only 6 feet deep, we don’t want to go there. We would run aground and we might not be able to get off unassisted.
We pay a lot of attention to the depth when we are deciding where to go, how to get there and where we can anchor at the end of the day. We rely on the measured depths that are reported on our charts, but we have learned that those measurements only represent what was known at the time the measurement was taken. When we are cruising, we may discover that some of the measurements are no longer true.
As we have cruised southward, this sort of thing has happened more than once. As we approached the Alligator River Bridge, we carefully followed the chart around the markers on a convoluted path toward that bridge. Despite all our best efforts, even though the chart said we had 10 feet of water beside the red marker, we ran aground as we rounded that marker. Fortunately for us, the bottom is silty mud and Larry was able to back up and try again successfully. The measurement may have been accurate on the day somebody recorded it, but the passage of time and the movement of the silt in the river changed everything.
We grounded on something in one of the many land cuts in the ICW, too. We were in the middle of the channel. As perfectly centered as we knew how to do. Yet, we felt a thud, heard a rubbing sound and then floated free. Right in the center of the channel. We are not the first to have such an experience. There are many places in the ICW where people have run aground in the center of the channel.
They run aground other places, too. Yesterday, we passed a boat grounded right beside the channel. We arrived just as Tow Boat US arrived, and it wasn’t long before that boat was moving again behind us. We could see that the chart was a little confusing right there, and we were happy that we didn’t become equally confused.
However, we had our turn in the barrel. It was our intention to turn upriver into the St. Lucie River and anchor about a mile upstream in 9-10 feet of water. The entrance to this river is noted in all cruise guides as a shoaling nightmare, and so it is. We turned into the river channel, charted at 8 feet. That is plenty of depth. Right between the first two markers, the chart says 7 feet. That is plenty of depth. Just past those two markers, the chart reports 9 feet. That is plenty of depth. All this depth was completely lacking as we came even with Red Marker 2. We felt a gentle thud and then another, and then we stopped moving.
We were not eager to make friends with Tow Boat US, so Larry began to maneuver the boat in an attempt to get free. The bottom was very soft, but not deep enough for forward progress. At first he tried backing, then turning. The marked channel was barely wider than the length of our boat. I think we plowed a big circle there and finally floated free back in the ICW.
We had no desire to go back north in the waterway. The ICW channel we had followed to St. Lucie inlet was not very wide or very deep. It set off our 8-foot alarm numerous times. The chart problem at the river entrance did not enhance our faith in the chart overall, but we had to have faith in something. We headed south. We found ourselves in a mangrove swamp. The channel depth varied, and it was hard to find the deep part. The alarm sounded frequently. We thought we would anchor in Peck Lake, because the cruise guide said it should be deep enough, but our Raymarine charts did support that notion. Just as we reached the lake, the channel depth increased. We could see two boats anchored in the spot recommended by the cruise guide. Still, the chart did not indicate adequate depth. They could have been shoal draft boats.
Larry said, “Do you want to try it?” I said, “Do you want to explore it?” Larry said, “I think I have explored enough.” And that was it. We continued. The next opportunity for an anchorage was on the west side of Hobe Sound. There are three little spots just off the channel where depths from 7 to 12 feet are reported. When we arrived at the marker for the first one, there were four boats in the area already. There was nobody in sight at the second one. We cruised in, carefully watching the depth finder. The chart said 9 feet, and the depthfinder reported 10 or 11. We threw the anchor out, waited to see if it bit, and we were home. Safe at last.
There is a note in one of the cruising guides that many people opt to run outside from Fort Pierce to Lake Worth due to the shoaling problem around the St. Lucie inlet. We made it, and we are not much the worse for wear, but I think we have seen all we need to see on that path. We know exactly where the bottom is, and we don’t need to find it again.
Aboard No Boundaries
January 5, 2010
What do you do when you plan for a tropical winter and wind up in a deep freeze?
Our sailboat is a really good boat, and it is a comfortable, safe home for us. It has been a good home through some pretty harsh winters in Baltimore, but in Baltimore, we were tied up to a dock, running on shore power, which is not a lot different from being in a house. A boat like ours is not insulated the way a house is, but we kept warm.
We were not really sure what we would do about really cold weather when we arrived at Cumberland Island on New Years Day, but we have learned a few tricks. We keep thinking things will get better so we can visit the island, but so far, we don’t have the guts to get in the dinghy and run over there in this cold. I don’t know if we will ever get to see the island.
If we did not have a generator, our situation would be a bit more dire. We have electric space heaters designed for boats, but without electricity, they are worthless. There are propane heaters for boats, but they have their own problems, not the least being the need to store more propane than is required for cooking. Some boats even use wood-fired stoves, but we have never thought that sounded like a good idea. The electric heaters take up little space, they don’t require special ventilation, and we are going to run the generator anyway.
Our first line of attack on the cold was to dig out one of the little heaters and run it during our morning generator run. We closed the doors to the forward and aft cabins, heating only the main salon. I cooked breakfast, and all that heat was quite comfortable during the morning. Then we turned off the generator, and we turned off the heater. The temperature began to drop. We managed well until mid-afternoon. I made some hot tea, but it was still uncomfortable.
Then I remembered why we don’t use our oil lamps in the summer – they put out heat. We have three oil lamps, one in the forward, one in the main salon, and one in the aft. We lit them all, and it was amazing how they took the edge off the cold. Cooking dinner put more heat in the cabin during the early evening.
We always run the generator after dinner in order to have hot water and top off the batteries. This time it also allowed us to run our heater in the main salon, and we dug out another to heat our stateroom. We were comfortable until it was time to go to bed.
We don’t run any of our heat sources when we are asleep. The generator is under the bed, and we wouldn’t want to sleep over that noise, even though it seems pretty quiet when we are in other parts of the boat. We don’t want lamps burning when we are asleep. That doesn’t make sense. So we bundle up with two blankets and a quilt. That keeps us toasty until we get up in the morning.
The final element of our strategy is the oven. I try not to light it unless I actually need it, but I also try to plan my baking to coincide with otherwise cold times. Today I started baking cookies in late afternoon, just as the heat of the morning was dying down and the outside air was cooling as the sun goes down.
So far we are fine. They say that tonight will be the coldest so far, and then things will let up for a few days. We are trying to figure out if we have the courage to cruise out in this cold and go south far enough to get into the fifties. Can you believe that this is even a problem in Florida? Our problems seem big to us, but I am glad that I am not a farmer with orange groves. We will figure out something.
Aboard No Boundaries
January 4, 2010
Before we ever set out to visit the Bahamas, friends with experience gave us a somber warning. “Be sure you get across before Christmas. The Christmas winds can keep you waiting for days and days.” I wondered what that meant, because I could not find that term anywhere – Christmas winds. I know now what that is all about.
One of our guide books tells the story in more scientific, therefore more cryptic, language. It talks about the fronts that line up to the west of Florida (I deduced that they must form first in the Great Plains) and roll across that state into the Atlantic and across the Bahamas. These fronts come in from the west, but they usually have a northerly component, a dead stop for any plan to cross the Gulf Stream. The description accorded nicely with the comments of other friends about the parade of fronts across the Bahamas in the winter. I filed all this information in my mental folder for the Bahamas and there it sat, waiting for a time when it would be needed.
Well, here we are, still in Florida on January 4. And now we are learning firsthand what the “Christmas winds” are all about.
We never intended to be here in January. When we cruised into St. Marys, GA, on November 30, we thought we needed a few days to do some work on the generator. We might even need to deliver it to the Panda shop in Ft. Lauderdale. We thought a week or ten days ought to do it. However, the math on the rates for Langs Marina showed that if we paid for a month, then, after ten days, the rest of the month was essentially free. We said to ourselves, “What if it takes eleven days, or even twelve?” We never thought for a minute that it would take a whole month.
In fact, when Larry called the Panda folks to tell them that he had done all the tests they recommended at first report of our problem, he expected them to tell him right then that he should put the generator in the shop. Instead, they gave him more tests to run. He did what they advised, and he talked back and forth. It seemed as if all this conversation went on forever. Finally, on Friday, December 18, we delivered the generator to the shop. All the dithering over what to do about this generator had taken almost three weeks, and we seemed to be no nearer a solution than when we started.
We were concerned about all the time it took, but we were more concerned about the likely cost. Even though the generator was still in warranty, we worried that somehow, the work we needed might be ruled out of warranty. You just never know. So here we were, one week before Christmas, and no generator.
The day we delivered it, Larry wanted to arrange to pick it up as soon as possible. He delivered it to Panda at 8AM on Friday morning, and he expected to pick it upon the following Monday afternoon. The service manager quickly disabused him of that expectation. He told Larry to call on Monday afternoon, and then he could give him a better idea when to pick it up.
Larry persisted in his faith that we could pick up the generator at least by Tuesday morning, but we deferred making hotel reservations for the trip until after that call. It was a very good idea. We learned on Monday afternoon that the service team still had no idea when they could give the generator back to us. They seemed not quite sure what it would take to get it working, and they were quite professional in their determination not to guess or string us along with promises or hints of promises that they could not keep. Needless to say, Larry and I speculated endlessly, constantly concerned that we would get a huge bill along with the repaired generator.
Despite all our worries, Panda made the generator good and completed the work under warranty. We are deeply thankful that they saw it that way. We would have loved to get the generator back a lot sooner, but when we pulled into the marina at 5PM on Christmas Eve with the generator in the back of our rented jeep, we felt good about its condition. Unfortunately, the long delay occasioned by the repair did not get us across the Gulf Stream before Christmas.
We enjoyed Christmas Eve with friends. Mike and Suzanne Pillola hosted the evening at their home in St. Marys. We sang and feasted and played games with Roger and Bonnie Ford and our hosts before attending Christmas Eve worship at Christ Episcopal Church. We relaxed on Christmas Day, enjoying a nice dinner and lovely Christmas music all day. (I think we have every Christmas album Mannheim has ever released, plus lots of other great stuff.)
Then it was time to get the generator back into the boat and working again. Larry put it through its paces to confirm that the repairs had, indeed, put it back in working order. All this work was not complete until New Years Eve. We were not ready to leave the marina until New Years Day. We were in for a big shock.
We had no idea the freeze of the century was about to drop in on us, not to mention the Christmas winds.
We had regretted for several days that we had never been able to visit Cumberland Island due to the constant confusion surrounding the generator repairs. We left the marina on New Years Day in a light rain. We said to ourselves that we would not like to walk around the island in the rain. We would visit it the next day. From that day to this it has not been a fit day to go strolling about in the outdoors.
We started following the weather the week intensely the week before New Years Day, and I was unhappy to see that the winds were almost constantly from the northwest. As I watched day after day, this state of affairs continued. When we left the marina, I remember saying hopefully that maybe the winds would change on Wednesday, the day after the last day in the forecast cycle. From that day to this, I keep hoping the same thing – that in five or six days the winds will change. The fronts keep rolling through, and the wind keeps coming at us from the northwest.
I don’t know when this state of affairs will improve. Not only are all the winds from the wrong direction, but we are also in the grip of arctic cold, something we certainly did not expect at the border of Florida. As we check cities down the coast, we can see that the situation is not dramatically better in any location we could reach in two or three days, even if we were willing to go out into the ocean at these temperatures. Wind from the northwest is not itself a problem when we go south along the coast, but a northwest wind at 20 knots and a temperature of even 40 degrees feels quite cold. The forecasts do not indicate that the deep freeze will relent soon.
So here we are still, trapped by the Christmas Winds. We will get to the Bahamas sometime. We take it a day at a time. Nothing enforces flexible decision-making like cruising in a sailboat,.
Christmas is over. The generator is back in its proper place aboard the boat. Larry is testing and retesting and verifying everything about it. When we leave St. Marys, it will be a long time before we are in a convenient place to get help if we need it.
It is time to make that big step – crossing the Gulf Stream and arriving in the Bahamas.
Are we ready? I doubt it. We have tried to get ready, but we have never done anything quite like this before. I used to go around thinking I was prepared to stay out for three months, but as we plan ahead to this adventure, I have learned how little I knew. We have been blessed with friends who have done it, and they have shared their experience with us. We are trying to make sense of it all.
Food. When I sat down with calendar pages for three months and imagined how we would eat three meals a day for that whole time, it proved more challenging than I realized. I tried several different ways to put it all together, but I am convinced that all I have is my best guess. We bought food twice, because I could not bring myself to buy that much the first time out. We bought supplies. We bought things, just in case. Now the boat is a maze of items counted and stacked, uncounted and still in bags, inventoried and put away. I keep telling myself there is room for everything, but I’m still convincing myself that I can cram in one more thing here, one more there.
Money. We have cash for the trip, but like any other trip, I am sure it will cost more than we plan. And we understand that, in the Bahamas, cash is king. Do we need to get more? hmmmmm.
Weather. The Gulf Stream is a great river within the ocean. It goes north with such energy that we are told it is very, very important to plan to cruise when the wind and wave reports are right. The force of the current combined with a wind in the opposite direction is reputed to create conditions no sane person wants to fight. So we scrutinize the reports and the forecasts and pick the brain of experienced cruisers. But sometime, we have to get going.
Thinking. Thinking. I wonder how the original polar explorers ever did it. For that matter, how did Columbus do it? He had much less information than we have. No charts. No idea how far he had to go. Nobody to tell him what it would be like where he actually landed, so all his expectations were completely in error. Yet he departed, he arrived, he returned. Surely we can do the same with charts, radio and all kinds of friendly advice.
When we swooshed across the Francis Drake Channel in February, 1995, on our first sailing adventure, we knew we wanted more of it. It is now upon us, and it looks a little different from this side. We worked hard, we dreamed intently, and we persevered. Here we go. Hurray!