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.
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