Nassau to Royal Island – 41 nautical miles sailed, 2 miles in dinghy, 500 metres snorkelled
With cruising you are often uncertain if you are doing the right thing. You review and re-review all the relevant weather information, route information, and nautical chart data, but eventually you need to make a decision, and you’re not going to know until later if that decision was a good one. In the meantime, there is often a level of anxiety and second guessing. Am I putting the crew in danger? Should we be staying put? Are we sailing into a wild storm? What if the worst of the weather model predictions come true? Will there be space in the anchorage? If not, will we be able to find a slip at a marina?
This is how I felt as we pulled up anchor and set sail for Eleuthera.
Some of the weather models were predicting a wicked storm to pass through our chosen destination on Monday evening, with winds reaching up to 50 knots, and a scary counter-clockwise spin with a wandering and unpredictable eye, just like a hurricane. Other models weren’t showing much of a storm at all. When there is no agreement between the various models it’s a fools game to know with any certainty what may happen, it may be just as likely for the storm to hit Nassau, or the Exumas, as opposed to our chosen location. So, we left.
The wind was directly in our face and with a 40 mile sail, we didn’t have time to zig zag so we motored the entire way. The seas were better than I expected with only two to four-foot waves and occasional larger ones that caused some pounding, but it was not bad. Kira is prone to seasickness but she was using an anti-nausea tab placed behind her ear plus an electric pulse device on her wrist designed for the same. The systems worked well and we passed the hours with plenty of stimulating nausea-free conversation, some flying fish spotting, then a tuna wrap lunch.
Royal Island is a model hurricane hole with wind and wave protection from all directions. I was relieved after we slipped through the narrow channel entrance to find plenty of available space so we chose a spot we liked, dropped and set the anchor, then sat back to relax. I strung the hammock from the solar arch and Kira eased in for a little swing and some hot sunshine. Dave immediately passed out on one of the cockpit benches and I took the other, reading for a while, then dropping off. A while later the ladies took the dinghy for a ride to explore the area and returned with a snorkeling location for us that would include a “little surprise”.
We gypsy-packed ourselves and all our snorkelling gear into the dinghy and set off at slow motion across the bay, creating a tsunami wake behind us which swamped and destroyed a few of other anchored boats. Ana was at the tiller and glided us into the far end of the bay which was incredibly shallow and offered no hints of the surprise. Dave pulled out these monstrous flippers, clearly relics from the 70's with yellowed and severely hardened rubber. To make them usable he had also picked up a set of furry blue slippers which slid neatly into the fins and looked real cute.
I flopped into the water and stood up in just three feet of depth with a mucky bottom. I swam around for a bit, finding no obvious surprises, and the girls were disappointed to discover the dozens of turtles they had seen, and perhaps run over or otherwise terrorized on their exploratory run, were nowhere to be seen.
I don’t remember ever snorkelling in under two feet of water, but that’s what we did and found many interesting pulsing jellyfish creatures, mollusks, some fish, and pyramids of sand with holes on top created by unseen ocean animals. We moved into deeper water in a cut and found a small patch with grey and dusty coral and mediocre visibility. This was very poor snorkelling conditions compared to what we’d experienced in the Exumas, but Dave and Kira enjoyed it as it was far superior to the current snorkelling options in Ontario.
We returned to the boat for a round of pink gin and tonics which were heavenly. Magnus gave us a call and we all had a chance to speak to him and hear of his school experience and, more importantly, European travel plans for his upcoming breaks. I have a feeling his transition back to Canada in May is going to be a little tough for him after this incredible experience.
Dinner was a formidable vegetarian chili with coconut buns then we moved into the cockpit for evening discussions under the dark Bahamian skies. After weaving through a series of stimulating topics, I lamented to Dave that There’s No Good Sailing Songs, so we started assembling musical ideas for a spectacular song with that title. I have some other ideas for sailing songs, such as Pee Bucket, Triangular Fabric, Weather Window, Fish Fingers, and Heavy Metal Sailor, but we’ll nail this first one before filling out the rest of the album.
It wasn’t even Mariner’s Midnight when Kira called it a night and the rest of us were not far behind her. I walked back to the dinghy arch to hoist it for a night and as I stepped down onto the swim platform my foot landed on something horrible, my initial presumption being a crippled sea otter, or maybe a furred jellyfish, or possibly an obese, drowned rat. How relieved was I when I looked down to see one of Dave's soggy slippers beneath my foot.
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