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.
February 25, 2010
Aboard No Boundaries
As I write this blog, we are moored at Warderick Wells Cay, Bahamas. The wind is blowing steadily in the range 22-27 knots (up to 31 mph) with gusts over 30 (nearly 35mph). Since 6AM this morning, the highest recorded gust was 35.7 knots (41 mph). We are fortunate to be in the inside channel where the seas are only a foot or two. We can see the boats on the three outer mooring balls bounce a lot more than we do. Beyond them, we see the 6-8 foot seas rolling in from Exuma Sound breaking dramatically against the little cays to the north, sending spray more than 20 feet in the air. The sun is shining on the clear, aquamarine blue waters, and it is a beautiful sight, but I am glad I don’t need to navigate through that cut in this wind. In fact, I would not dream of trying that cut in this wind. We would definitely be safer, even though severely uncomfortable, riding out the wind in Exuma Sound on the big waves than trying to cruise through any cuts in the Exumas today. A cold front passed through in the wee hours of the morning, and today we can expect winds to continue to rage out of the north for most of the day. It is the twelfth cold front to pass through the Bahamas since we arrived on January 18. This is not what we expected.
When we set out to cruise full-time last May, our impression of the future was formed by complete ignorance. We had certainly sailed our boat to a variety of locations. We had experienced a few storms. We had lived aboard for eight years. We had read every book we could find on the cruising life. Nevertheless, we were not prepared for the realities.
When we went north in July, our ultimate destination was Maine. Our 3-week cruise in Penobscot Bay in 2003 shaped our expectations for our cruise in 2009. Three weeks somewhere do not give anyone enough information to form appropriate expectations with regard to weather. In fact, it is now apparent that a lifetime of studying and forecasting weather does not give anyone enough information to form appropriate expectations, either. Everyone was blind-sided by the cold summer in the Northeast in 2009.
When we headed south at the beginning of November, our ultimate destination was the Bahamas. Never having been there, we nonetheless mined the comments and stories of cruising friends and formed a mental picture of sunny days and warm temperatures, punctuated by some very high winds during passing cold fronts. Nothing, however, suggested that those fronts would march through the islands in a relentless parade every three days. Well, maybe a few were spaced four days apart. To make up for that, a couple were only two days apart. We listen to Chris Parker for our weather forecasts daily, and last Monday he said that this winter is the most turbulent with such a parade of cold fronts since the winter of 1999-2000 – ten years ago.
We are learning that weather is what it is, regardless of what you expect, and there is no use complaining about it. I used to feel quite free to complain when it was too hot or too cold or etcetera. I could go home to air conditioning or heat, even when we lived in the marina full-time, and make my environment more to my liking, regardless of the outside conditions. As a cruiser, I live much closer to the real world and the real weather. I have learned to flex with it, and I am gradually learning not to set my expectations in concrete.
It was a big lesson for me to realize that marine forecasts do not give me anticipated temperatures. When we went to Cumberland Island on New Year’s Day, the temperature was in the forties, and it was raining. We didn’t think it would be fun to explore in the rain, so we put off our adventure until the next day. We had listened only to marine forecasts, so we were not prepared at all for a temperature of 18 degrees Fahrenheit the next morning, and the next, and the next for six days running. Still we developed strategies for keeping warm there until we finally gave up all hope of exploring that park and headed south. As we approached Palm Beach, Florida, the unexpected cold continued, and the radio forecasts and news reports made it clear that nobody had expected such weather. And there was nothing anyone could do about it.
When we moved to Lake Worth, we thought the predictions indicated a window for a crossing to the Bahamas in a couple of days, but the cold fronts that have dogged our tracks in the Bahamas were just getting started. They all start somewhere else, drive over Florida and then assault the Bahamas. We found a window to cross, we had a couple of nice days, and then we were socked in again. We have been slaves to the progress of those fronts ever since.
Every cold front has its unique qualities, but the pattern is predictable at a high level. A low moves from west to east, or maybe northeast, in some latitude north of the Bahamas. (According to Chris Parker it is exceedingly rare, and fortuitously rare, that the actual low pressure center moves across the Bahamas.) The low center drags a cold front that trails across Florida and into the Bahamas, moving roughly north to south. That pattern produces winds that clock from east to south to west as the low moves and the front approaches, and the winds move from west through north and toward the east behind it. The pattern is recognizable even as the details take unique dimensions with each front.
The gradient winds associated with a front are rarely in excess of 25 knots, but if the front spawns squalls, the squalls may carry strong convective winds up to 40 or 50 knots. It is the likelihood of squalls that imprisons us as much as the fronts themselves. We definitely do not want to try to maneuver through one of the rocky cuts in the Bahamas with a 25-knot wind pushing us toward sharp rocks. However, we could manage that situation by simply hovering about offshore until the wind settled down. A squall with 40- or 50-knot winds, however, is nothing to trifle with. We have been in such a situation by accident and ignorance. Any time we have advance information, we would choose to find a safe place to ride out such a storm.
Navigation in such winds is not the only issue, however. Assuming that one is off the big water, behind shelter of a cay or a bank, there is yet one more issue: security. A sailboat can anchor and be secure on the anchor in many conditions, but winds of 30 knots or more challenge most anchoring options. In the Bahamas, those big winds often come out of the north after a frontal passage, and there are not a lot of good northerly shelters. Add that to the fact that some sheltered locations do not have bottoms that hold an anchor securely. If a wind of 30 knots is expected, most captains will choose a mooring or a marina.
Most boaters appear to have the same mindset. When a front is predicted, the mooring fields and marinas across the Bahamas fill up quickly. Nobody moves. Boaters who wait till the last minute to plan their strategy for the front find no place to go. Exuma Park operates on VHF9 every day at 0900 to accommodate requests for relocation, departure and arrival. On any given day it takes about an hour to get everyone settled. Today, however, nobody is going anywhere. There is no traffic on VHF9. The park has queried a few boats about their plans, but nobody plans to leave just now. Nobody here has any appointments that require them to take their lives in their hands and depart.
Some people have cruised the Bahamas in recent years and experienced very little of this. They saw little or no rain. There were a few cold fronts, but in between there were many peaceful days. This non-stop parade is a new wrinkle, and we lucked out to be here to see it! What do we do?
We kick back and make the most of it. No matter how hard the wind blows here, the setting is beautiful. We can sit in the cockpit and enjoy much better scenery than anyone trying to dig out from under 6 feet of snow. I can bake or write or read or do just about anything that occurs to me, except go sailing. From the cockpit, I see 20 other boats doing the same thing.
Life could certainly be worse. I could be getting up at 5AM in order to be at work at 6AM in order to meet at 8AM with crabby clients whose expectations about the project are more unrealistic than my expectations of the weather in the Bahamas. I could be working overnight to restore a database that was erased by someone who forgot which server she was working on. I could be stuck in an airport, in line to try to get a flight to any location within a hundred miles of my destination, because my original flight has been cancelled. Oh, it could be a lot worse. Instead, I lean back on the cockpit cushions, take another sip of coffee and exhilarate in the ferocious beauty all around. You get what you get, where weather is concerned, and that is fine by me.