Calabash Bay to Georgetown to Rat Cay – 48 nautical miles sailed, 3 miles in dinghy, 100 metres snorkelled, 1 barracuda
Besides the dinghy getting completely swamped with water, SeaLight’s cabin soaked from rain, and the rolliest anchorage ever, it was a pretty good day.
We left the Calabash anchorage at 6:30 am, navigated our way slowly through the coral reefs and shallows, then almost immediately caught a small barracuda after I put out the fishing line. I was happy to catch something, yes, but today I was determined to catch a prize fish we could eat, in the form of a mahi mahi or a tuna. The sea conditions were good and the motorsail to Georgetown went well except that after that initial fish I didn’t get a sniff, despite my focused efforts watching the lure, putting crazy wounded fish action on it, and singing good luck fishing songs in my head – Hoosier and the full Ace of Base catalogue (1 song) figured prominently for some unexplained reason.
We anchored as close as we could to Georgetown and had the fastest provisioning stop ever – just over two hours to do two water runs and groceries. We had been in touch with Ben and Kate from Waddington and decided to push on from Georgetown and meet them in Rat Cay as they were on their way south and we were heading north so it might have been our last chance to see them for a while. We were excited to see our friends again.
The Quebec Army had arrived in Georgetown and taken over the dinghy dock as all I heard there was that unmistakable French dialect. I had to wait a very, very long time as one Quebeccer filled up his 40 gallon water bladder plus a dozen other jugs, juice jars, cans, and Ziploc bags. He told me I was lucky he didn’t have his 65 gallon bladder with him too, but I didn’t feel too lucky as I sat in my dinghy roasting in my own juices. He also mentioned that he would be back soon as it was laundry day and his onboard washer needed an astonishing 40 gallons of water per load. His buddy then walked by me and budded in line to fill up a big jug and as he was filling it looked over and said, “Oh that may have been rude.” Yeah, and I’m sure that won’t stop him from doing it again, any time, any place. Once he was done and had relinquished the water spigot to me, I filled my jugs and sped out of there.
As we left Elizabeth Harbour and passed through the Conch Cay Cut then headed out into the Exuma Sound, we found ourselves in prime fishing territory, a 200 – 300 foot ledge before the depths dropped into the thousands. I decided to fish more strategically, giving each of my five lures 30 minutes of deployment time then immediately changing them if they weren’t producing. Well, no quantity of fishing songs, or lure action, or wishing, or imagining, or hoping, or any of my other trusted fishing guide tricks, learned in the wilds of northern Saskatchewan so many years ago, could bring on a strike. As we approached the Rat Cay Cut, I wound in the last lure and put the fishing gear away, hoping for better luck next time around.
We wound around Rat Cay, passing at least six magnificent postcard beaches, spotted Waddington, then dropped anchor in the same vicinity as the two other sailboats already there. Then, a glorious ocean swim and bath for all of us, and quick snorkelling run to see if I could find any conch or coral, but came up empty on both counts. Ben and Kate rowed their dinghy over for a visit and we decided a beach fire and mini-party was in order. Ana and I took the dinghy into shore to gather wood while Stella started on dinner.
We picked through the crispy dry, sharp, and ragged brush and found a decent amount of burnable material then piled it up near the firepit ring we had built from coral rocks and discarded conch shells. As we were returning to SeaLight, Kate and Ben appeared in their dinghy, piled high with wood they scavenged from one beach over. We were ready, except for one last thing. We motored to each of the two boats there and invited them to the campfire, which they all enthusiastically agreed to join.
After a yummy shrimp pasta and quick cleanup, we returned to the beach with our cooler, speaker, and snacks, just as daylight was running out. Kate and Ben arrived shortly after and we got the fire started and soon Joss (Dutch) and Greta (Italian) from one of the boats and Zido (Italian/German/American) from the other arrived and the party was underway, which was really just a lot of talking, story-telling, wood burning, and a couple beers.
We hadn’t been able to pull the dinghy up far enough on the beach for the rising tide, so I had tried the anchoring trick I’d seen some cruisers doing, whereby you throw out an anchor to hold the boat in the water, then tie the other end to a rock on shore to sort of keep in in place and let it bounce around in the waves. Ben noticed my handiwork.
“You’ve got it backwards,” he said, sipping on a rum and coke. “The bow needs to be pointing out.”
I went down and had a look and he was right, it would be better with the bow out. But so far it seemed to be floating okay and not taking on any water. Plus I was too lazy to change the whole setup again.
“I’ll keep an eye on it. So far it seems okay.”
Some time later Joss points and says, “Hey, I think your dinghy is full of water.”
Sure enough, the anchor had let loose and the relentless swell had filled it right up from the stern. Both gas tanks were floating upside down, my flip flops were afloat, and a soggy towel was draped over one of the seats. With the help of the men we lifted the front end up and were able to dump out nearly all the water, then they helped me drag it far up the shore. Yet another stupid mistake in my growing catalogue of them.
Despite the dinghy flooding, we had an excellent night with old and new friends, all remarkable people with remarkable stories. Yet another in a long series of brief, but significant and memorable people moments we’ve enjoyed along the way.
As the night went on, small droplets of rain began to fall, which took us by surprise as there had been no rain in the forecast and we simply just weren’t used to seeing water falling from the sky. It didn’t take long before it really started coming down, so we doused the fire, launched the dinghy, and paddled back, as I was scared water had infiltrated the gas tank so I didn’t want to run the engine until I was able to clean the gasoline. And yes, the dinghy ride was sketchy as hell as I rowed back through utter darkness, with high winds and swell, with the girls pointing me towards our anchor light which we could see swaying back and forth with unusual vigour. We made it onto the boat safely and as I attached the shackles to the dinghy to crank it up on the davits, something snapped and it fell back down. A pin had fallen out of one of the shackles as the cotter ring had worked its way out. I’d actually found the ring in the dinghy just after we’d arrived and wondered where it had come from. Stupid mistake – if something is out of order, like a strange smell or boat part lying where it shouldn’t be, or an unusual noise…investigate immediately. Fortunately, it hadn’t let loose after the dinghy was in the davits as that would have been a far worse outcome and we could have potentially lost our engine. One more for the catalog of stupid mistakes.
The boat was a mess. We had left the top hatches and some of the side hatches open and rainwater was everywhere – on the floor, the couch, on the books, on the bed, in the carpets. We’d forgotten the cardinal rule – before you leave the boat, assume somebody is going to get onto the boat to try and steal something…and it is going to rain. Another one to add to the catalogue.
Only after the frenzy of cleaning and drying was done did we realize just how badly the boat was rolling around. We had seen some postings online about this anchorage getting rolly with certain winds, but I had hoped it wouldn’t be bad with the full protection from the east wind. And after we’d arrived and got anchored, the boat was not rolling at all so I expected it would stay that way. Nope. When Kiss sang, “I want to rock and roll all night…” I’m sure this is not what they had in mind.
It was going to be a bouncy evening.
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