We returned to the boat on Monday. There were still a few pieces to attach to the engine, and then there would be testing. We speculated that we might be able to leave the marina by Wednesday. Ha!
When it came time to attach the starter, the mechanic discovered that the starter sent with the engine would not fit on the engine. When Larry and the mechanic examined it closely, they discovered a major difference. It was not the right starter for this engine. That problem has been dealt with, but it isn’t the end. There seem to be daily revelations of “just one more thing.”
Yesterday morning we expected the mechanic to finish his work. We thought we could put the boat back in order in the afternoon, run errands today and depart tomorrow. Not to be. A few minutes before 5PM the mechanic left to look for yet another part. When he had not returned at 6PM we called and learned that he would not be back until today. The saga continues.
I told someone that it was like daytime TV, maybe “Days of Our Lives.” We have certainly lost a lot of days to this project. A lot of dollars, too. The slip rental alone will be staggering when the final bill is presented. Shipping costs have been shocking. The boatyard, like the government, charges fees for everything. The service company that provided the diesel mechanic, the crane and etcetera will undoubtedly charge for every little thing. We will be glad when it is over.
The good news is that the engine works. You push the button, it starts. This engine starts in the blink of an eye, something the old engine never did. It always had to huff and puff a bit before it got going. So that’s nice. It also runs much more quietly. I told Larry it almost makes me think of a lawn mower, and that is rather disconcerting. I think it should sound powerful. Maybe I don’t really know how it should sound.
The final bit of excitement is the delayed arrival of the replacement starter. The starter that was originally rebuilt for our old engine is back in service now, but we paid for a new starter, and we were expecting one. The latest update on its status is that it may be here by next Wednesday. Is this not fun!?!?!
The engine runs, and so shall we. We have paid our bill to the marina based on a departure on Sunday. We will hang around in Lake Worth until the starter gets here. We might get internet there by using our wifi antenna. We will work with what we have. Our phone works, so they can call us when the part arrives. Then, at last, we can finally go north.
If I were in the business of telling tall tales, I could hardly make up a story with as many hitches and glitches as this one. Still, we are almost on our way. Whew!
The good news first.
The new engine is in the boat. The crane arrived Friday morning and gently placed all 1100 pounds of new Perkins engine in the boat. The new engine is the same model as the old one, a truly new engine, part of the factory inventory of Perkins engine at the time it went out of business. One would expect that this engine is a mirror image of the old one, but as any boat owner knows, it doesn’t pay to have expectations.
The boat is in the water. We splashed in mid-afternoon on Friday and the towboat folks delivered us back to the dock nearby. There are still parts and pieces to be attached to the engine and a few issues to resolve before anyone tries to turn it on. Still, we remain hopeful that everything will be done sometime Tuesday.
Now, the bad news.
The last task to be done before the boat was put back in the water was the attachment of the zinc at the propeller. Larry keeps a supply of them aboard, and he took one out of his stock for this purpose. He has never had any problem with the fit in the past, but this time the zinc did not fit. The discrepancy in the dimensions is so small that it certainly looks as if it should work, but it doesn’t.
The diesel mechanic thought he knew where one could be bought that would fit, so Larry dutifully went there and bought one. However, when the mechanic tried to use it, this one did not fit either.
In other words, this is a very normal boat project. The tiniest thing, the thing you would assume could not possibly be a problem, is a problem.
In order to get the boat in the water, the mechanic had the zinc machined to a slightly smaller dimension. He was able to fit the zinc, and we were able to put the boat back in the water.
It seems almost as if all is well, but there is this nagging concern – if neither of the zincs purchased, supposedly to the same dimensions that have worked on this boat for 25 years, will work, what happens in the future? The big question is: What changed?
Tomorrow the diesel mechanic will be back, and he and Larry will work together. I hope that when the day is over, we know the answers to all our questions. I could use some more good news!
This post is part 8 of 8. If you have missed previous posts, you might want to scroll down and read them first.
Our reason for making this passage was our need for a good diesel mechanic to help us get our engine going again. We were very fortunate that the marina where the towboat captain left us had such a person. He worked with Larry for several days, and they finally concluded that the best course of action was to replace the engine.
Replacement was not a simple choice. New engine. Rebuilt engine. Rebuild our engine. Same model. Different model. What to do?
Perkins made the engine that could not be repaired, and Perkins went out of business several years ago. We could not hope, therefore, to contact Perkins and obtain a new engine. A new model built by some other company would have a different footprint, and might require a lot of other new parts. It would almost certainly weigh less than our engine, which was built 25 years ago. Development of diesel engines has included a conscious effort to reduce the weight, but we were concerned that the difference might change the way our boat moved.
To rebuild our engine or to buy a rebuilt Perkins of the same model was one option. We quickly concluded that we did not want to spend the time that might be required to rebuild ours. We mulled the issues associated with buying one already rebuilt.
Then Larry discovered some good news. He found a company that had bought all the engines Perkins had in inventory at the time they went out of business. This company had in stock a brand new engine exactly like the one we have. Its footprint would be identical to ours. It would be new instead of rebuilt. And the price was right.
It seemed simple enough to order this engine, and it was. That was the simple part. Then the fun began.
The vendor for the engine did not want to accept a credit card for the purchase of the engine, even though our credit card had plenty of credit to cover the cost. The vendor insisted on either a wire transfer or a cashier’s check in payment. Larry put the cash to cover the purchase in his bank account.
From that point forward it was a square dance with a lot of do-si-do. Our bank refused to do a wire transfer unless Larry appeared in person at a branch, but they have no branches in Florida. A bank just a block from the marina was perfectly willing to make a wire transfer if Larry opened an account with them, and they would accept a debit card to withdraw that money from his faraway bank to fund the new local account, but Larry had no debit card. I had a debit card, but I didn’t have the money. When we got past those hurdles, we found that the local bank would take any amount of money withdrawn on my debit card, but the faraway bank would not permit all the money to be withdrawn on a single day. It was a wild ride, a lot like crossing the Gulf Stream, but in the end, the wire transfer reached the vendor and the vendor promised to ship the engine.
We arrived in Florida the morning of Friday, April 30. Today is Tuesday, May 18. We are well into our third week since arriving with the purpose of solving our diesel engine problem. Last Friday, the new engine was delivered to the marine service company that will remove our old engine and install the new one. We know it is here, because we stopped by to see it for ourselves yesterday. Yesterday our boat was hauled out of the water and set up on jacks in the boatyard where there is room for a crane to come alongside to do the heavy lifting. Today the diesel mechanic is due to start working with us. By this time next week, we should have a new engine and be ready for some new adventures. Whew!
So – our passage home began with the question: what could possibly go wrong? In fact, just about everything that could go wrong did go wrong. Still, by the grace of God, we are home safe in the USA and our old engine will soon be replaced with a brand new engine that ought to be good for another 25 years. So—even though everything went wrong, everything is now going right.
Anybody want to go sailing with us?
This post is part 7 of 8. If you missed earlier ones, you might want to scroll down and read them.
Crossing the Gulf Stream is not a trivial undertaking. Most people with sailboats still make this crossing under power. The Gulf Stream is a rough ride, and it is quite powerful. It seems to be the rule that whatever the weather is on either side of the stream, it is more powerful in the stream. Winds are stronger. Waves are higher. Turbulence is greater. It is, after all, a river within an ocean.
Without an engine, we knew that we had to be very careful. The Gulf Stream might carry us where we did not want to go unless we planned wisely. Our destination was the Lake Worth Inlet, because we felt that we knew enough about that area to find the help we needed for our engine. We knew we could not transit that inlet under sail, but as BoatUS members, we knew we could call TowBoat US for help.
As morning dawned on Thursday, April 29, we sipped our coffee with little conversation. We had a lot to talk about, but first we needed to get our heads clear. The first cup of coffee each morning had acquired a value out of all proportion to its normal image. Somehow, as soon as we had coffee in hand, it was as if the slate had been wiped clean, and the new day before us was a pristine opportunity for success. We sipped our coffee and allowed our minds to roam.
With very little wind at the beginning of the day, Larry decided that maybe he could finally look for the obstruction that had blocked the generator’s cooling water. We were far from Great Isaac and the only ships we had seen were on the other side of the channel. I took the helm and Larry went below. Happily, he quickly found the clog. Then he replaced the water pump. Finally, he coaxed an hour of charge out of the generator.
It was like a miracle. The batteries were charged to a level that would allow us to run our e-charting for the last two or three hours as we approached Florida. We could turn on the VHF radio whenever we wished. We felt that we had hit the jackpot.
Larry asked, “What do you think? Should we go now or wait a while?” The wind was only 7-8 knots. It was predicted to be 10 knots during the day, but we could not guess when it would increase. Yet I really did not want to sit in that channel waiting and waiting. It seemed as if we ought to use the available wind to move closer to the Gulf Stream. Maybe it would increase soon, or maybe we would need to wait somewhere before we actually hit the Stream. We concluded that waiting was not our wish, and off we went.
Happily, the wind began to rise very soon. It is hard to say exactly when we arrived at the Gulf Stream, but by the time we became aware that the roughness and the current indicated we were there, the wind was running about 15-20 knots.
I don’t think I will ever think that a Gulf Stream crossing is delightful. That water is rough. It gave us a thorough shaking, even though it was a different kind of roughness than storm waves. I guess it is what I think riding rapids might be.
There was another oddity. By sunset the wind was 20-25 knots from the southeast. We reduced sail, because that much wind combined with the rough water was taking a toll on us. It was hard work to maintain our course. Still, that much wind was definitely going to take us toward our destination. However, we frequently observed that the wind suddenly dropped to nothing. Zero. Or 5 knots. It was almost scary. Then, just as suddenly, it would zoom up to 15 or 20 knots again. We hung on and kept moving west.
My first sign that we were drawing near to Florida came at sunset. We had watched sunsets daily in the Bahamas as an evening ritual. We ate dinner in the cockpit and watched the sun go down. We had even seen the green flash a time or two. Often someone nearby would sound the conch horn at sunset. After the sun fell below the horizon it would grow dark in the west and the stars would come out.
Not this time. The sun went down, but the glow remained. It took me a while to realize that the glow was not the remnants of the sunset. The glow was Florida. How wonderful! We were actually getting there.
The last couple of hours were a bit of a shock. Larry had planned our course very well, but we both thought that the Gulf Stream wall was 11 or 12 miles from the coast. We thought we had a buffer zone between the Stream and the coastline where we could make a northward adjustment to get to Lake Worth. We learned that evening that the Gulf Stream is less than 3 miles from the Lake Worth Inlet. We had thought we were across and were ready to make our way to the inlet only the Stream was still carrying us north. When we called TowBoat US we were already past Lake Worth Inlet. We were steering southwest, but under reduced sail, we had not enough power to fight the current. Our track was northwest. It was the Great Isaac syndrome all over again.
Nevertheless, the towboat soon found us and pulled alongside. We tried to turn into the wind to drop our sail, but we could not get there. Eventually, we just pulled the sail out of the track and wrapped it up on the boom. The towboat captain said we drifted three miles north while we were getting our sails down.
I am always in awe of those guys. They are so calm and professional in all that they do. After the towing harness was attached to our bow, the towboat moved ahead and paid out some line in an attempt to give us a smoother ride. Compared to our crossing, I guess it was smoother, but we were still in the Stream and going against the current. It was pretty rough. We didn’t care. It was all in the hands of the towboat captain and we could relax. Larry steered to keep our boat following the towboat, but that was simple compared the adventure behind us.
The captain towed us to a dock at the Riviera Beach Marine Center. We tied up to that dock at 0545 on April 30, 2010. Our journey was over, just 2 hours and 15 minutes short of 6 full days after we started. We were home again, safe and sound.
We gave thanks to God for our safe passage, and then we went to bed. We thought we would sleep late, but I guess the habit of 2-hour shifts had become ingrained. We woke up about 8:30 starving for coffee. Our journey home had ended safely. We sipped our first cup and coffee and remembered.
At dawn we were approaching New Providence. We could see a small light halo above the island, but it was not at all what I had expected of the largest town in the Bahamas. We gave both New Providence and Andros a respectful berth as we cruised north.
The seas were quite confused, and it was obvious why it had been so difficult to steer a straight course overnight. Waves came at us seemingly from all directions. It was time to choose between the Northwest Channel and the Northwest Providence Channel. The choice seemed obvious. If we had seriously confused seas already, and we had not even begun to move into the funnel of the Northwest Channel, what could we expect if we chose that option? We decided to avoid what looked like big trouble and go the other way. We never regretted that choice.
We came around the southern edge of the Berries on a tack that took us far to the east. We tacked several times that day as we moved north. We looked over at Hoffman/White/Devil area and remembered our first misadventure with the engine. As the day wore on the wind wore off. The last thing we had expected was to be becalmed, but when the wind speed indicator displays 5 or 7 or 3.4, it feels like a calm. After the serious but lovely winds overnight, we were disappointed.
We discussed anchoring in Great Harbour south of Great Stirrup Cay to wait out the weather that was expected the next day. Our information seemed confusing, and our confusion had led us to decide to take a chance on it, but as we drew near to Great Harbour, we evaluated the possibility of anchoring there. It has a wide, easy entrance, so entering and departing under sail seemed doable. The problem lay in the fact that as the predicted winds clocked around, the protection would not be consistent through all points. We talked about what we would do as the winds clocked around after the passing of the first front. Where would we go?
A bigger problem surfaced due to the lack of wind. We could not get there before dark. We could not go in after dark, and we felt that we did not want to be outside tacking back and forth all night. We decided to proceed toward Freeport.
Part of our problem in dealing with this situation was that the forecast we had recorded did not clearly explain what Chris Parker meant by “nasty” weather. We knew that we could not cross the Gulf Stream until the winds had passed through the northerly quarter and back to east or southeast. Chris had said that there would be squalls but the wind in the squalls would be light. Still, he had said it would be “nasty.” We just did not know what that meant. We would soon find out.
We continued cruising northeast toward Freeport all night. Our entire trip seemed to be an effort to sail on a course 330 or 240, and never at any time was it easy to maintain either course. We were always adjusting. We reefed down at sunset again, having learned our lesson. We do not like reducing sail at 2AM in winds gusting to 30 knots.
Part 3– Saturday, April 24, 2010
If you missed parts 1 and 2, you may want to scroll down and read them first.
At 0800 I wrote down our anchored location in the ship’s log. We went up to the aft deck and looked over the situation. We had plenty of room to turn the boat after the anchor came up. We could sail slowly between two boats behind us, then past another one. At that point we had a clear shot out to the banks and to our first waypoint at Sandy Cay.
We have always felt that God gave us each other and God gave us the dream to sail together. We give thanks every day for the beauty and the adventures God has given us in this life. As we were about to embark upon the most challenging passage in our sailing life, we knew that we needed to rely on God more than ever. No matter how skilled we might be, and no matter how well we planned, we were about to go forth on God’s huge ocean in a boat that the ocean could disassemble if it chose. We are convinced that God always wants us to use the gifts he has given us to their fullest extent, but we are likewise convinced that God wants to be with us through it all.
We bowed our heads in prayer. We read Psalm 62 as a prayer. We prayed for God’s presence and his guidance and protection for our journey. We were ready to leave, but it was not time to stop praying. On this trip we lived the truth of “pray without ceasing.” It was no time to be careless or cocky. It was time to go.
We raised the mainsail. Larry went to the bow as I took the helm. When he signaled that the anchor was up, I turned hard to port. Larry came back to the cockpit and deployed the staysail, which gave us the extra speed we needed to make the turn. Gently, slowly, gracefully, we sailed between the boats and out toward the banks. Soon we were clear and the passage was begun.
It was a gorgeous morning. The sky was clear with only wispy clouds. We looked back toward the Pig Beach for the last time. Then we looked forward. We soon came near enough to our waypoint to make the northward turn. The wind was ESE. We gibed gently and kept moving toward our goal. It felt very good.
When we reached the first marker on the Decca Channel, we continued north a bit. The channel runs due west, but we really could not stay on that straight line with our following ESE wind. We gibed about 4 times before we were far enough along the channel to head northwest toward the Tongue of the Ocean.
As we reached the central marker of the channel, we were on a northerly tack. We had hoped to miss the coral heads in that general vicinity, but we found ourselves in a small patch despite everything. Larry went forward and spotted while I steered. It seemed like a long time, but it was probably less than an hour before we were clear. It was one of the great moments of the trip. We had navigated through a large patch of coral under sail without any shouting and no scrapes, either. We were very thankful.
By the time we had cleared the channel it was mid-afternoon. Larry decided to run the generator and get the batteries back up to a good level. He went below. I took the helm. Pretty soon he came back up. “I guess I didn’t get the water intake as far below the water line as I thought,” he said. “The generator isn’t getting any cooling water on this tack. We have to wait until we are on the starboard side.” That news was not desirable, but neither was it devastating.
After our next gibe, Larry went below again to run the generator. Again, he quickly returned to the cockpit. “I think we have a bigger problem,” he said. “I’m going to need to look at things.” He went below and dug into the problem. Our generator is installed beneath our bed in the aft cabin. To work there, he had to fold up the bed, remove the casing of the generator and try to do this work as we were sailing. Fortunately, the wind was running 14-17 knots, and we had little turbulence. Soon he came back up with a solemn look on his face.
It turned out that the water pump had lost one of its impeller blades. That blade was obviously stuck in a hose somewhere impeding the flow of cooling water to the generator. Larry could not tell where that blade might be without pulling out all the hoses and checking each one. The sun would set within the hour. That work could not be done at that time. Who knew when he would get the opportunity?
Without knowing when we would get to recharge the batteries again, we had to take severe measures. We turned off everything non-essential, and that included the refrigerator. Our refrigerator will keep things cold for three or four days, as long as your definition of “cold” is generous. We had canned food to fall back on. We simply could not afford to run the refrigerator in this crisis. We left very few breakers on.
These five items were the only drain on our batteries until the very end of our trip. They drew the batteries down at the rate of about .1 volt per day. It is a good thing we took this action, because Larry was not able to find the blockage in the generator’s water system until the day we departed for the Gulf Stream crossing. After he found it, we ran the generator and were able to charge the batteries sufficiently to allow us to use our e-charts as we drew near to Lake Worth.
Whenever we were below decks at night, we used flashlights. The refrigerator did a pretty good job until the last day. We used the galley foot pump for water. We had a supply of ground coffee and a press pot for our morning java. We cook with propane, so we had hot meals. With all our constraints we still had everything that was truly essential.
So, this is how we sailed into the first night of our journey.
At sunset we discussed whether to reduce sail. We really wanted to avoid the necessity of a sail change in the dark. I gathered together my weather predictions. Both Chris Parker and the Tongue of the Ocean buoy predicted 15-17 knots. We had been sailing with winds at this speed all day, and we concluded that if they were to continue we did not need to change anything.
We were wrong. Our logic was right, but our information was wrong. As the evening progressed, so did the wind speed. First it was 20 knots. Then it crept up to 25 sustained. Then I saw 30 knots skim by on the wind speed indicator. That was it for me. We began to adjust things. We reduced the genoa by about half, but that was not enough. Eventually we furled it completely, leaving only the staysail deployed. We sailed for a few minutes in that configuration, but it was still extremely difficult to hold a course. The wind and wave frequently conspired to throw the boat as much as 40 degrees off course in a matter of seconds. Over and over. (When dawn came we could see how confused the seas were. Clearly, a swell from the north or northeast was countering waves generated by an east to southeast wind. It was a mess.) We reduced the main to the first batten.
With that adjustment, we gained control without losing too much speed. Both of us had grown quite weary fighting with all that sail. At that point, Larry was able to go back to sleep. Overnight the max wind speed recorded was 31.9 knots. Although we had a lot of weather yet to come, we never recorded any wind speed higher than that.
One of the things I learned to like about sailing at night instead of motoring at night is the quality of my rest. When the engine is running and I go below, the noise only gets louder. I dare not wear ear plugs to sleep. I need to be able to hear Larry call if he needs me, but with the engine running, there is so much noise and vibration that it is extremely difficult to get real rest. Under sail, after I adjusted to the pilot berth instead of my bed, I actually slept quite well. We set a kitchen timer to wake us at the end of our sleep time, and each of us had the experience of actually sleeping right through it a time or two, despite its loud beeping right beside our heads. If we make more extended passages, I certainly want to sail rather than motor if the winds are right.
I will never forget that run up the Tongue of the Ocean. It was a moonlight night, only a day or two past full. There were occasional clouds, but the sky remained generally clear. We simply flew. The sounds of wind and water were beautiful as we scooted north. This is why we have a sailboat instead of a trawler. It was wonderful. I didn’t need a diesel engine or a generator in order to enjoy that experience.
So ended the first day.
If you missed Part 1 of our return home, you might want to scroll down and read it first. This post is part 2 of 8 that describe our long sail home
Part 2 – Plan and Prepare
As we started planning to sail back to Florida, our first order of business was to identify a weather window for the trip. We needed wind, but not a gale, and we needed southerly winds for the Gulf Stream crossing. We needed a window of about 4 days. That duration was unlikely, given our experience with the passage of cold fronts during our trip, so we allowed mentally for the possibility that we would need to wait out a front somewhere, even though we continually hoped to avoid that possibility. After all, with no engine, our options for entering and leaving anchorages were severely constrained. Many, many entrances to anchorages in the Bahamas are much too tricky to maneuver under sail alone.
We needed the weather window pretty soon. It was already late April. Our insurance wants us north of Florida by June 1 each year, the beginning of hurricane season. Even after we got back to Florida, we knew that it would take some time for a mechanic to determine the problem with the engine and then do the repairs. After the repairs were done, we still needed time to get north of Florida before June 1. We really could not dawdle.
We had to choose a route that gave us the least challenges to our limited maneuverability yet took us as directly as possible to our goal. We worked out a route with a decision point in the middle. We could depart Big Majors Spot, traverse the Decca Channel, and cruise up the Tongue of the Ocean. When we reached New Providence, we had to choose either the Northwest Channel or Northwest Providence Channel.
If we chose the Northwest Channel, we had to arrive at slack or flood, because we dared not risk it if the wind were east or southeast into an ebb tide. We had to navigate a fairly narrow path to the Northwest Shoal, then to Mackie Shoal and Great Isaac Light. As we viewed our weather windows, we inevitably found ourselves crossing that bank in the dark. Or anchoring out there through the night. The tidal currents on and off the banks can be very powerful, and we worried about our options passing the Hen and Chickens and Great Isaac at any time.
Our other choice was to take the Northwest Providence Channel (Route B) around the Berry Islands and completely avoid the banks and Great Isaac. It added distance but greatly reduced our risks on the banks. As will become clear later, this choice added its own risks. You can never avoid risk altogether when you embark on a sailing adventure. The trick is to be able to manage the risks you accept.
Both routes converged between Great Isaac and Freeport. From there, we had to cross the Gulf Stream without power, navigating appropriately to arrive at our destination, the Lake Worth Inlet.
We identified 4 tricky challenges along our path.
As for the weather window, our first choice failed us when the predictions were revised unfavorably for us. The next window looked like four good days if we started on Thursday, so we got ready to go, but there was never enough wind. We need 10-12 knots to move this boat. On Thursday, April 22, the wind never exceeded 7 knots. One day lost.
On Friday, April 23, the winds were predicted to be at or near 10 knots all day. In fact, they were much lower until late in the afternoon. Since our plan was to sail round the clock, it would not have been unthinkable to depart in the afternoon, but it was completely unthinkable to navigate the Decca Channel in the dark. A second day was lost.
As we waited, we continued to discuss our plans. They were complicated by the fact that not only was the diesel engine completely unavailable; the generator that we used to charge our batteries was behaving strangely. We had been running it 2-3 hours each morning and another hour or so in the evening to keep our batteries well charged. However, at the same time our diesel engine problems emerged, the generator began to behave strangely as well. Not being an electrical engineer, I can only report that Larry said it was putting out too much voltage to the inverter/charger. If it had an AC load, such as the electric coffeepot or the water heater, it could be induced to run normally for almost an hour, but eventually, even those loads were not enough to keep the voltage down and the generator had to be shut off. We could charge the batteries to some extent, but there would never be sufficient charge to run e-charts or the auto-pilot.
As we planned our watches, we expected that twice a day, Larry would be able to run the generator for about an hour, but during that time, he needed to give it his undivided attention. We would be able to have refrigeration, lights, hot water, and most of the comforts of home as long as we were careful.
Sailing without the auto-pilot was a daunting prospect, but we gritted our teeth. What choice did we have? If we stayed where we were, we would never solve our problems. We decided that we would take turns at the helm, 2 hours on, 2 hours off. Our actual schedule was a bit more flexible, but not by much. Without the auto-pilot, somebody had to be steering at all times.
Sailing without electronic charts was less daunting, but still undesirable. We sailed without them for several years, but never on such a passage as this one. Of course, we had already learned that e-charts cannot be the only resource for piloting in a place like the Bahamas. During our whole trip, we were constantly checking the e-charts, the paper charts and the guide books for all the information we could get. We had two sources for GPS information: a handheld GPS with a display about the size of a cell phone screen, and a GPS mounted on the nav station. We had the Explorer Charts for the Bahamas, which we had come to rely on heavily, perhaps even more heavily than our e-charts. (When we went to Hatchet Bay, the e-chart showed us sailing through solid rock, so we took the e-chart locations with a grain of salt in the Bahamas.) Our handheld GPS had a chart display of sorts, but you can imagine that what you could see on that little screen would be more entertaining than informative. It did, however, provide information such as speed over ground and distance traveled, etcetera, which proved very valuable to us.
The part that worried me most as we planned was sailing at night. We had cruised round the clock on several occasions, but always with the engine, the auto-pilot, and the e-charts. The person on watch at 2AM mostly needed to be sure not to collide with another ship or go off course into some other hazard. We had never sailed at night precisely because we had not felt ready to manage sails at night. However, in this case, we really had no choice. Even if there were some place to stop each night, stopping meant that it would take us a very long time to get back. Even if there were some place to go, there was no guarantee we could get in and out under sail. We had to sail round the clock. Again, we gritted our teeth and accepted that challenge.
We had a plan. On the morning of Saturday, April 24, we listened to the weather, observed that the wind was running about 12-14 knots from the east, and everything looked right. The generator hit some kind of a glitch after half an hour, but we assumed we could make that time up later.
It was time for the Go/No Go decision.
We chose GO.
We have had some interesting experiences in the Bahamas. Winds and currents do strange things sometimes. We have seen some spectacular sights at Warderick Wells, Cambridge Cay and Big Majors Spot.
When we arrived in the mooring area at Cambridge Cay, the winds were about 10 or 12 knots, much more subdued than in the previous dozen days, so it was pretty easy to pick up our mooring. We noticed right away that both the mooring and its pennant were heavily marked with blue paint that matches our bottom paint. We knew exactly how that happened. It is all about winds and currents.
Before we came to the Bahamas we read about the navigation and anchoring challenges here. Winds and currents here have different characteristics than we were accustomed to in Chesapeake Bay. In the descriptions of many Bahamas anchorages, there are notes about extreme currents and the recommendation to deploy two anchors. That comment sounds relatively simple, but the solutions are not simple at all. The problems associated with the currents and winds lead many, many boaters to prefer moorings or marinas to the hazards associated with anchoring. Those hazards lead to issues with the anchor rode similar to the mooring problems that produced the markings we saw on our mooring ball and pennant at Cambridge Cay.
The differences between high and low tide in the Bahamas will normally be somewhere between 2 and 3 feet. To those of us who have cruised in New England, that difference sounds small. In Maine, tides of 12 feet are not uncommon, and the intrepid cruisers who venture as far east as West Quoddy Point will learn to deal with tides at or near 20 feet. Tales of the tides in Bay of Fundy will give anyone pause. We have cruised as far east as Schoodic Point in Maine, and we found that we could adjust easily to the greater tidal range. It was a simple matter to calculate the greater scope required, but we found no other significant challenge associated with the tides in Maine.
The lesser range of the Bahamas tides fools the novice cruiser at first. We saw the chart markings that said “strong current,” but we had no idea what that actually meant. We were prepared for the current to be strong, but we did not realize how it would affect us until we experienced it.
How did that mooring and pennant come to be so severely marked with bottom paint?
When we picked up our mooring at Warderick Wells, it must have been slack tide, although at the time we were not sensitive to tidal timings as we have become in the days since. Larry eased up to the mooring, I picked it up, we pulled the eye of the pennant over our forward cleat, and we were secure. As Larry always does, he rigged lines that basically create a harness through the eye of the pennant around the bow of the boat. Then we settled in.
I don’t remember noticing when the flood tide current began to pick up, although I could hear the water rippling past our hull. However, after I went up on deck, I observed that the bow of the boat had ridden up past the mooring ball. Later, I heard the ball banging against the hull from time to time. As the days passed and the fronts passed, I saw that ball move all over the place, or rather, I observed that we moved relative to the ball. The ball sometimes slid under the boat and popped up on the other side.
That’s not all. After the first front passed, I saw that the lines of the harness were twisted twice around the pennant. After a second front passed, the twists were completely undone. And then there was the dinghy. After the second front passed, I discovered that our dinghy painter had been tied in a tight knot by the wind. I didn’t think it was even possible for that to happen. It makes me think back to a time that I thought we had made some mistake in tying up our dinghy. We woke up after a front had passed in the night to discover that the dinghy was attached to the boat by only one tie. We always tie it up twice with quite a bit of line between the ties, but on that occasion the tie nearest the dinghy was undone by the wind. After seeing that the wind could create a knot last week, I am prepared to believe that it could untie one just as easily.
The way our boat moves with tides and currents is due to the keel. We have a full keel, and as we watched the other boats moored at Warderick Wells, we could easily discern which ones had full keels. They moved with the mooring the same way we did. When we discovered that we had run up on the pennant, we could look around and see at least a half dozen other boats doing the same thing. A full keel is much more influenced by the currents than the winds, and that behavior prevails despite really strong winds. If we had the aft cockpit curtains open, it was not uncommon for us to have winds blowing in the aft of the cockpit, because the current was forcing our keel to point opposite to the wind. The moorings expect the boat to be moved by the wind, and when we moved with the current opposite to the wind, we ran up on the pennant and received strong breezes through the aft opening to the cockpit.
So we know exactly how our mooring and pennant at Cambridge Cay came to be more blue than white. As the keel is pushed by current in the opposite direction of the wind, the keel rubs against the pennant and the ball, leaving behind a residue of blue bottom paint.
We have learned to be very attentive to the tides here. We faithfully write down the times for tides in Nassau every day. The tides in any given location may be before or after the Nassau tides, but a day of observation will give you the relationship. We assume that the tides are within an hour of Nassau for rough planning. We need that timing because the tidal currents are so strong. They are often as much as 4 knots, and in many places a speed of 6 knots will be common. Many anchorages are affected so dramatically that boats must deploy two anchors if anybody is to be able to sleep at night.
Here is the rule: Tides flood toward the banks and ebb away from the banks. I think that the problem must originate in the vast expanses of the banks coupled with the way the bottom drops dramatically elsewhere. The east side of Eleuthera Island, for example, faces the Atlantic with a rocky shore and huge coral outcroppings. The rocks extend a short distance toward the ocean, and then there is nothing. The depth goes from 100 feet to 1000 feet almost in the blink of an eye. On the western side of the island, in the bight between Current Island and Powell Point, is a huge bank. That bank extends several miles from the island toward Exuma Sound, but at Powell Point, the bottom drops out again. I speculate that the difference between the shallow banks and the deep channels is at the root of the strong tidal currents.
Whatever the reason, they are not to be trifled with. Prudent mariners respect their power. A current of just 4 knots coupled with winds over 20 knots, or colliding with winds over 20 knots, can create a hazard that can push a big boat onto rocks or reefs. Everyone is advised to have a spotter in shallow water to watch for hazards, but in tight quarters, the winds and currents can fool you.
North of the anchorage on the west side of Big Major Spot is a tiny cut that separates Big Major from Fowl Cay, a Sandals property. This little cut is probably lest than 50 feet across, and it must be 15 feet deep. On the south side, the water is quite deep in a protected pool. On the north side, the channel through the cut is bounded on the east by a very shallow bank that extends along the northern shore of Big Majors. It is a microcosm that dramatically displays the big challenge across the Bahamas.
A few days ago Larry and I decided to circumnavigate Big Majors Spot. We headed north toward this tiny cut. As we approached, it was flood tide. Water was rushing through this cut at a pace so furious that the incoming water could hardly be contained. On one side whirlpools swirled and dipped noticeably in the center of circulation. On another side a confluence of opposing currents created raging cascades. We picked up speed and hurried through, hoping not to be shoved backward. On the north side I looked eastward across the shallow banks. There I saw water rushing furiously across the bank downhill toward the deep water of the cut. There was almost a waterfall into the channel.
Today we tried to navigate that cut in the opposite direction. We should have been prepared, but even our prior experience during a flood tide was no preparation for today’s ebb. The last time the tidal ranges were in a more normal range – a difference between 2 and 3 feet between high and low tide. Today the low low tide was more than 4 feet lower than the high high tide. We approached from the north during the second hour of ebb. It was a roaring torrent, and despite gunning the outboard to its highest possible speed, we were pushed off course. The only way to avoid being shoved against the rocks was to turn around and let the water take us back where we came from.
We saw some other frightful, but terrifyingly fascinating sights on this trip. As we traversed the channel between Big Major and Little Major, we could see through the cuts both to the north and south of Little Major. It was enough to take your breath away. We have heard warnings not to attempt these cuts on an ebb with wind or wave from the east, but until you see it, you don’t know. In this case, a superhigh tide was ebbing at a ferocious pace into Exuma Sound against a long period northeast swell of about 8 feet. We looked through those cuts and saw huge waves break across the entrance. Some roared against the rocks surrounding the cuts creating huge breaking waves between the rocks. Under no circumstances would I have attempted to go in or out those cuts under these circumstances.
We happened to have another couple with us today as we contemplated how we would deal with the fact that we could not navigate our tiny cut, the one obstacle that separated us from our boats safe in the anchorage on the other side of the cut. Our new friend Irina looked at me and smiled, saying, “C’est l’aventure!” That’s what cruising is: an adventure. You plan with all your intellect, and you deal with what happens anyway. Sometimes you get what you don’t want, but you get through somehow. It is all about adventure!
You probably wondered what is going on these days. It has been a while since I posted anything. The last you heard we were still riding out cold fronts at Cambridge Cay. We have since moved on to Big Majors Spot. I don’t know why they call it “Spot” instead of “Cay” but that is the name on the chart.
We are anchored near Staniel Cay. Staniel is one of the hot spots for cruisers in the Bahamas. With a population probably less than 300, it still provides a lot of services, and it has an airport! With regularly scheduled flights! We hear and see a lot of airplanes, all of them very small, but quite busy here. When the wind is from the east, they zoom directly over our anchorage before making the turn for final approach, and sometimes they zoom frightfully low, barely above the top of the mast. A few mornings back, two of them were apparently racing for the landing strip and they zoomed overhead wingtip to wingtip in a terrifying formation reminiscent of the Blue Angels. At the last possible moment, one of them turned sharply away as the other turned into the access path. All this at a height that appeared to be mere inches above the masthead. Whew!
Air freight is one way people on the island receive goods. It is also the way cruisers receive goods. We needed our snail mail after we arrived, because it contains tax documents we need, and air freight enabled us to receive it only six days after we requested it! Subsequently we needed an engine part, and it, too, will arrive by air freight.
If not for air freight, the only other option would be the Bahamas Mail Boat. Air freight takes six days. Bahamas mail takes ?????????
The mail boats are the lifeline for the islands. They all start their journeys in Nassau, the capital, the largest city, and the largest port (I might be wrong. Freeport might be bigger.). They travel throughout the island carrying mail, of course, but they also carry groceries, construction materials, passengers and pretty much anything someone needs to deliver anywhere in the islands. People know the “schedule” of the mailboats very well, and in the Bahamas, when anyone says, “Has the boat arrived?” nobody answers, “What boat?” They all know what boat. It is the mail boat. In every part of the Bahamas, there is a large community of boats – sailboats, motor yachts, fishing vessels and so forth. But when anyone in any part of the Bahamas says, “the boat” everyone knows that the boat in question is the mail boat.
We arrived at Big Majors anchorage on a Tuesday. It had been almost a month since I set foot in a grocery store, and you can well imagine that our supply of fresh fruits and vegetables was about gone. We still had apples and oranges, which keep almost forever. We still had potatoes, onions, carrots and cabbage. However, things like celery, peppers, tomatoes and so forth were long gone.
As soon as the anchor was set, we jumped into the dinghy and headed for the grocery store. On Staniel Cay there are three grocery stores – the Pink Pearl, the Blue Palm, and Isles General, where the proprietor says, “We have what you need to get you where you are going.” We chose to go to Isles General, because it is right on the water.
We arrived at the location and found a steep beach in front where we could land the dinghy. A rope about fifty feet long strung between two concrete blocks well above high tide line provided a place to tie our painter to keep the dinghy from floating away. This service replaces the parking lots needed by suburban supermarkets.
The store itself is about as large as the master bedroom plus walk-in closet in many suburban homes. Or maybe not that large. It is dimly lit. The largest part of the store contains an assortment of supplies and odds and ends. Band-aids, school notebooks, transmission fluid, and etcetera. The smaller space (this is the walk-in closet) contains food. Or it contains food sometimes.
We found very little in the way of fresh produce, which was our real objective. The proprietor, Vivien, told us we could expect better selections after “the boat” came the next day. We talked with her at length about this situation, because it was all new to us, although we had some idea about it from listening to radio traffic. She told us the boat was expected the next morning, and she would have her goods on the shelves before noon. We made our plan to stop by again the next afternoon, about 1:30 when she re-opened the store after her lunch break 12:00 – 1:30PM.
The next morning we tuned in as always on VHF channel 12 to hear the weather report from Blue Yonder. We get weather daily from Chris Parker on SSB 4045 upper at 6:30AM, from the Bahamas Air and Rescue Service Association (BASRA) on SSB 4003 upper at 7:00AM, from Waterways Radio Club on SSB at 7268 lower at 7:45AM (if I don’t forget) and from Blue Yonder on VHF 12 at 8:00AM, or thereabouts. Radio reception is full of challenges, and on any given day we may be unable to hear one or more of the sources. Each has its own unique information. We try to glue it all together and make a guess at what our day will be like. The weather from Blue Yonder uniquely includes the buoy reports from near Staniel Cay, which is perfect for us right now.
Blue Yonder also keeps us informed about The Boat. That morning, the first thing she said was, “Has anyone seen the boat yet?” Despite the fact that this location hosts probably 50 boats, nobody asked “What boat?” Unfortunately, nobody had seen “the boat” and it was a subject of radio chatter throughout the day. We heard people calling the Captain C (I am guessing at the spelling) all through the day, but the captain did not answer. We heard people reporting that it had been seen here and there. Finally, the next morning, Thursday, we saw “the boat” entering the channel to the government dock. At last!
Needless to say, we did not go to the grocery store on Wednesday. It would have been pointless. We waited until afternoon on Thursday.
When we arrived at the store, it was humming. The dinghy beach was full of dinghies, although there was still room for ours. The store was full of people. As we arrived, a crew from a nearby yacht club came in with a huge cooler to collect their special order. People were buzzing about excitedly picking up tomatoes, celery, zucchini, cauliflower and other fresh items. There was meat in the meat freezer. (We have learned that in the islands, all meat is frozen. Fresh meat cannot be transported on a mail boat that wanders the islands for a week.) Our choices were chicken wings, chicken leg quarters, pork ribs, NY strip steak, and ground beef in 1-pound tubes. There were fresh eggs, butter, heavy cream and other dairy products. There was a lot of bread, but all of the “Wonder” variety. We made our selections and departed happy. I bought 4 tomatoes, even though I would like to have had more. I suspected the supply was inadequate for major restocking, and I was right. We were there the next day for something else, and the tomatoes were completely gone. There were a few droopy onions, and other odds and ends, but no tomatoes.
The next week, we knew to be watching for the boat. Blue Yonder started her broadcast asking, “Has anyone seen the boat?” but nobody had. It finally arrived about 5PM. I followed good island tradition when I heard someone call Isles General on the VHF and listened in on the conversation. I learned that the store’s proprietor would be meeting the boat to get her order and would spend the evening stocking shelves. She would open the next morning at 8:00 AM.
This time we wanted to visit all the stores, plus the bakery. On Thursday morning, we dinghied over to the Staniel Cay Yacht Club and landed at their dinghy beach. The Pink store, the Blue store and the bakery are all in easy walking distance of the yacht club.
We visited the Pink Store first. This store is in a building about the size of a wide garage. The proprietor is an ancient lady who waits patiently behind the counter while customers browse. Her store is so poorly lit that we could hardly make out the labels of items on the shelves. Even after the arrival of the boat, her shelves were half empty. Many items appeared to have been there for a very long time. However, she did have fresh produce, and we bought a few things. The owner was very pleasant as we checked out and wished her a good day.
Next we went to the bakery. Baking is done in one room of a nearby house. The owner makes various kinds of bread, but on any given day the selections are few. We could buy white, whole wheat, or cinnamon raisin. We bought a loaf of whole wheat and one of the raisin loaves. The raisin bread had just come out of the oven and the aroma filled the room. After we got home we cut a piece, still warm, and it was wonderful. Yum!
On to the Blue Store. This store is larger and better lit than the Pink Store. The owner is more attentive to her customers. She came over to help me when I started looking at the meats in the freezer. Her selection of meat, produce and dry goods was the best I have seen here. I was delighted to be able to find romaine lettuce. We haven’t had lettuce for a while, and good as cabbage is, it is more appealing when interspersed with crisp green lettuce salads.
Finally we went to Isles General again. I was hoping for more tomatoes, but it was not to be. At the Pink Store and the Blue Store, there were a few tomatoes which may have been locally grown, but they were so flawed that I knew they wouldn’t keep very long. I should have grabbed one or two, however, because Isles General had none of any kind. I am learning that island grocery shopping is quite different from my land-locked experience. We eat well, but it takes a willingness to innovate with what you find. Isles General had pork chops on this occasion, a product we did not find anywhere else this time.
That is the lesson. You make the most of what you find when you find anything. I think we could order special items if we made the order before the boat departs Nassau, and if we knew we would be here the next time it arrives. We haven’t tried that idea yet. The boat comes when it comes, and you get whatever you find.
As we returned to the boat with our treasures, the sun was warm, the sky was deep blue, and the water was every imaginable shade of blue and green. We were splashed by the spray as the dinghy hit the waves, and we were soaked when we got back. Who cares? I remember thinking as we zoomed toward our boat, not the boat, how fortunate I was to be in this place at this time. It is so beautiful here. I thank God every day for the opportunity to enjoy it. It took us a while to get here, but I am learning that time is what you make of it. We are blessed to enjoy this life. And if we are smart, we will learn to flex with the situation and to make the most of it when the boat is in our port.
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.