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!
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