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