Taking Advantage of Good Sailing Winds

Spanish Wells – 43 nautical miles sailed

With an approaching cold front set to drop temperatures and jack wind speeds, we took advantage of the southeasterlies today to make the run back to Nassau. That’s the thing with sailing, it’s okay to have a general plan, but you have to watch the weather and be ready to change plans without hesitation.

Our friends Dave and Kira arrive on Saturday so we are really hoping the consistently good weather we have been enjoying keeps up, but it does look like a couple of cold fronts are on the horizon, including some rain early next week. No matter what the weather, good company means good times.

We left Spanish Wells around 9am and had an excellent sail, having to use the motor only for a short while as we had both sails up catching the 15 to 17 knot winds the entire way, reaching boat speeds of 8 knots a few times which is close to SeaLight's maximum hull speed. The ride was uneventful – saw some flying fish, but did not get any action on the fishing lures I trailed behind the boat the entire time. I’m starting to think maybe the fish only feed early in the morning or at dusk as my fruitless fishing has been happening in the heat of the day. Or maybe I’m just not cut out for ocean fishing.

The only problem we did have is when we were deploying the headsail it had a sag in it and despite winching it in, I could not get it set right. Then Ana looked up the deck and saw that we had forgotten to close the front hatch and the sheet line was caught in it, applying massive pressure to the hinges. We loosened the sheet, went to the front and untangled it, then got it set properly. Once anchored in Nassau we had a better look at it and found the screws holding down one of the hinges had been ripped out of the deck, leaving a sizeable gap for water to enter. I was able to find some thicker screws, coat them in silicone, then reattach the hatch. Dumping a few buckets of water on it produced no drips so the repair seems to be okay. To prevent a future occurrence I’ve added “Close front hatches if sailing” to my departure checklist.

We were able to claim the same anchorage close to Nassau we had last time, which was a minor miracle as the larger Montague anchorage east of there was closed to boats for a scheduled regatta this weekend, so we were sure it would be full. By the time we were anchored and settled it was already after 4pm so there wasn’t time to do much else besides cook dinner, make a meal plan for our visitors, inventory food on the boat for our provisioning run tomorrow, then sit in the cockpit for an hour, enjoying the night lights and sounds of Nassau. I did manage to catch a picture of the menacing sky monster peeking at me over the top of a boat anchored nearby.

A Long Island Adventure and the Furthest Point South of Our Journey

Thompson Bay, Long Island – 160 kilometres driven, 2 miles in dinghy, 4 kilometres walked

I called Mr. Fox from Sunset Car Rental at 7:30 am and sure enough he had wheels for us we could pick up at 9 am. By 9:05 I was done the paperwork (name, address, driver’s license number, that’s it), we’d paid $75 in cash, and we pulled away in our Nissan Note right hand drive car, ready to explore Long Island. The ease of this island rental experience brought back a painful memory of suffering at the Easirent desk in Fort Lauderdale getting rolled over and ripped off by the staff there. But I shuffled that back into the archives and focused on the present, the lovely present.

We drove south, dodging the odd pothole (some, potentially devastating) and chickens and goats crossing the road, and one dog sleeping soundly in the middle of it, and rapidly normalized driving on the left, which was a real novelty for Stella, and for us too as it had been a while. The mostly straight road was bordered by trees and shrubs, and we noticed many houses that had banana trees and gardens growing in their yards. It felt lush compared to the other places we’d visited in Bahamas thus far. Buildings appeared sporadically, almost as if divided equally along the full stretch of the island, with only a few small clusters of houses in the settlements we passed through. By the end of the week with our rental car in Florida, I hated it - the traffic lights, the waiting, the density, aggravated drivers, the tollways. Today’s rental was a single day ride, a way to see as much of Long Island as possible, with just one road, no stop signs or lights, and only a few other cars. It was fun.

A sign appeared for Shrimp Hole so I cranked the wheel over and parked on the shoulder then walked in. There, we found the remains of an abandoned church, and another sign with “Shrimp Hole – Follow the Red Arrows”, which we did, like Alice in Wonderland, and were led through a winding forest path, into the bush, until we reached a cave, which initially looked much like the bat cave entrance from yesterday. I climbed over the rock and found a cavern with a large pool of water, swimmable and fairly deep, but full of jagged harsh rock that could easily slice up a big toe or shoulder. We were not wearing our swimsuits, so did not get in the water, but I had to assume the resident creatures were shrimp, although they remained hidden. I could see light at the end of the pool so I walked through the bush, passing by a huge spiny green cactus, and found a skylight entrance to the cave, which dropped nine or ten feet into the water below. Maybe we’d stop on the way back for a swim if we had time.

Our drive continued, passing random food shacks, restaurants, and liquor stores, plus the occasional government building, school, and commercial building. We arrived at the junction for Dean’s Blue Hole, well-marked with a sign on the highway. We drove across the pitted and rock-strewn dirt road, testing the worn and sloppy suspension of our little car, producing some terrible noises from the front end, noises which usually result in a lethal maiming of a vehicle. But the car made it and we were rewarded with a most beautiful sight – an ominous blue hole perfectly sheltered by a natural rock harbour and surrounded by shallow, walkable sand banks. There was one vehicle here with lettering on the side “Vertical Blue Free Divers”, and in the middle of the blue hole were two divers with specialty gear. The girls, freshly prepped with makeup, fashion outfits, and curled hair, could not face an early swim, but since I’m never entirely fresh nor made up, I grabbed my mask and went for a dip. All I told the girls was, “It’s amazing, you can’t miss this. We’ll stop for a swim on our way back.” As we returned to the car, the owner of the truck appeared in a wet suit and I had to ask him a few question. What we learned was this blue hole was over 600 feet deep, the third-deepest in the world, that free divers could hold their breath for 3 – 4 minutes and make it halfway down, and that it was the best blue hole in the world for free diving and home to a yearly international free diving competition.

We continued into the beating heart of Long Island, the capital Clarence Town, and home to the government dock, fewer than a hundred residents, a couple of fancy churches, and not a whole lot else. But because of a detour due to road work on the highway, we were sent down a side road and ended up at the harbour and found an incredibly new and fancy looking marina called the Flying Fish, which we had to explore. The main marina building was painted a beautiful Caribbean yellow hue with white-trimmed doors and windows. In the courtyard was a small kidney-shaped pool with views east across the coral-strewn harbour to the crashing Atlantic and west to the long jetty protecting the marina docks with several docked sportfisher boats. We walked the jetty, and Ana immediately spotted a big shark prowling the shallows. Then I saw a huge loggerhead turtle. Then two more big sharks, all following the same path from the coral reefs, along the jetty, then into the harbour. We watched the marine show before us in amazement from the artful and surprisingly comfortable hurricane-proof concrete couches on the jetty.

The marina office was open so we went in, used the facilities, bought myself a new pair of flip flops with exceptional grip, then had a chat with the nice lady working there. She told us the sharks we saw were not reef sharks, but bull sharks, recognized for being the most dangerous sharks in the world. Good thing we didn’t opt for a marina swim.

Our goal was the south end of the island, so we continue driving, passing through many thinly populated settlements – McKenzie, Taits, Roses, Berry’s, Cabbage Point, Mortimer’s, and my personal favourite, Hard Bargain. Salt ponds appeared on both sides of the road, and at one we were shocked to see hundreds of pink flamingos, in the shallows, picking away at shrimp and minnows. Ana snuck up on a singleton, balancing on one leg near the shore, and took a smashing photo.

The road effectively ended at the settlement of Gordon’s, and there we found Gordon’s Beach Bar, built and owned by Ernest Watson. I feel like I should not describe this oasis as I could never capture the beauty of the talcum power white sand beach, the shallow water with infinite hues of blue and waves of sand patterns beneath it, the magnificent pine trees providing shade for the inviting fabric hammock strung between them, the courtesy beach loungers and wide umbrellas, the endless view to the sparkling eastern horizon that would land you in the Ragged Islands or Cuba if you paddled long enough, the restaurant itself, painted shades of blue and pink, with a wraparound bar, easy menu, and cold Kaliks and “spanked” rum punch served by Ernesto, with a smile, accompanied by a story or three, the delicious cracked conch or cracked chicken or cracked lobster or fried grouper chunks served with authentic peas and rice or plantains or cole slaw, cooked in the tiny kitchen by a lovely Bahamian grandma, and finally, the sounds of the sea – birds calling, water gently lapping, the wind whistling through the palms.

I could never hope to describe Gordon’s properly so I will not even try. Instead, I will recognize that we reached the furthest point south we will travel on this epic adventure of ours, 2100 nautical miles from home, and I cannot image a more perfect place to have chosen. Long Island was the first location Ana and I visited together as a new couple, 25 years ago, madly in love, at the start of what we already knew then would become a lifelong adventure and partnership. Being back here felt like a reunion with our younger selves. As Ana and I walked the deserted beach then snuggled together in the warm water while Stella napped on a lounger, we talked about this, about where we started, about what we’d accomplished, and where we were at in our lives, and about the many more places in the world we had yet to explore, and the future adventures we aspired to. As we talked about these things I wondered if I just might be the happiest person in the world at that moment.

We did the turnaround and stopped briefly in Clarence Town to take a photo of the handsome Catholic church before returning to Dean’s blue hole. The girls were overwhelmed as soon as they pushed off the sand and floated across the surface, looking down where the white sand met the black edge of the hole. Stella was so overcome with fear she grabbed onto her mom’s hand. The steep underwater sand banks and rock ledges which housed legions of blue-striped Sergeant Major fish declined quickly to about twenty-five feet of depth then met the circular edge of the blue hole, where the water turned the darkest of blues, and one looked down into nothingness. I swam down to the edge of the hole and peeked over. The sides were rock and I pulled myself down a bit then felt a nervous shiver flash down my spine as I realized it was thirty feet to the surface and, not trained as a free diver, I didn’t have much left for breath. I rocketed up, lifted quickly by the buoyant salt water, broke the surface, and grabbed a deep gulp of air then continued snorkeling.

We circled the hole then swam back to the shallows. The girls removed their masks and said it was the most amazing thing they’d ever experienced.

Once back on the highway, we checked Google maps to see if we had time to make it up to Stella Maris, the resort Ana and I visited 25 years ago, but it was well over an hour away which would put us on the pothole-ridden road at night, something I did not want to do, so instead we returned to Salt Pond and stopped at the Vantage Point seaside restaurant for a sundowner drink and were rewarded with a magnificent sunset, great music, and surprisingly cheap drinks.

We gassed up the car, returned it, then retrieved the dinghy and motored over to our friends Cheyne and Marilyn’s catamaran, whom we had met in Fort Lauderdale. As the sun dipped down into the horizon we had a nice chat, catching up on each other’s movements in the past month, and upcoming route plans. It seemed likely that we’d see each other again soon as they were planning on heading north at approximately the same time as us, as they were embarking on a Great Loop, and would spend the summer in our ‘hood - the Great Lakes.

Back on SeaLight, Ana made us a lovely pasta dinner then we retired to our cabins, putting the wraps on an extraordinary day on Long Island.

Beach Day then Hanging with Sheldon and Ruthie at the Fish Fry

Nassau – 9 kilometres walked, 9 miles in dinghy

With the temperature headed upwards of 25 degrees, it was time for a beach day. We dinghy’d into the marina and did the long walk to Paradise Island and, despite our best efforts, were not able to sneak into Atlantis this time, so instead walked east to the public access for Cabbage Beach. The beach was just like I remembered it – expansive with powered sugar sand, vendors selling coconut and pineapple drinks, many locals and tourists, and treacherous, knee-twisting, sand exfoliating, salt-water swallowing waves. We went for our first dip and poor Anna got rolled by one and dragged through the sand. She was okay, but the sand invaded everywhere and she was reluctant to go back in the water for another beating so had to sit in it like a soiled diaper.

What made up for this minor inconvenience was the warm sun, refreshing breeze, large blanket, and umbrella shading us and providing a perfect place for a nap, which I believe all of us did.

Mid-afternoon we walked back to the Nassau side and returned to the boat for a clean, sand-free swim then a lunch/dinner of dry-rubbed pork tenderloin, pasta, and broccoli. This was to be our final evening for Nassau nightlife as tomorrow was provisioning day and the day after we would take the next leg of our journey to the Exumas. So what does one do on one’s last night in Nassau? Visit the Fish Fry, of course.

The Fish Fry on Arawak Cay is just west of downtown and is a strip of small restaurants with all the cool kids hanging out eating, drinking, doing wheelies on their motorcycles, jamming to great music, eyeing each other up. I had arranged for two of our Bahamian friends to meet us, both of whom had been my colleagues at Shell Bahamas. We decided to take the dinghy the whole way, but progress was slow, and the three-mile journey took nearly 40 minutes. We found a concrete wall and tied up the dinghy, after realizing I’d used up nearly all the gas in the tank, then wandered around the Fish Fry, noticing the massive improvements that had been made since we were last here 15 years ago.

Sheldon arrived first, and we learned he’d turned 60 recently, though you would never guess it from his young face and still-strapping body. Sheldon’s done such a great job of keeping touch with me over the years through emails and Facebook greetings and it was a pleasure to see him again and catch up on the news. We hung out at a picnic table and talked each others’ ears off, while Anna and Stella went for a walk to the nearby Christmas carnival to sightsee and go on some rides.

Ruth arrived later and came dancing in like she always does. She looked great and had barely changed since we’d last seen her. We talked non-stop until close to midnight, about our families, jobs, vacations, and various annoying middle-aged health ailments. For me, this was a moment that I’d hoped for on this trip – to reconnect with these old and dear friends.

The girls returned with conch fritters and a huge conch salad and seemed to be enjoying their first visit to the Fish Fry. They met Ruth and sat with us chatting until Sheldon had to leave, but he first gave me a lift to the gas station to fill up my jerry can (and my Bahamian Brothuh paid for it too, despite my protestations). Getting the can out of the dinghy was a bit tricky as we’d tied the boat too tight to the wall and the dropping tide had left it hanging in the air, suspended by the docking lines. Whoops.

We stayed for longer visiting with Ruthie, until most of the restaurants were closed, and only the hard core partiers remained. I gave her a big hug, said goodbye, then she gave the girls a ride back to the marina while I took the dinghy solo at warp speed and made it there in less than ten minutes.

From Bimini to Nassau...and the Recipe for Happiness Revealed

Bimini to Nassau – 125 nautical miles sailed

“Fuck!!!” I yelled as the boat was lifted up on a swell and dropped with a crash onto the sandbank. “We hit it again, goddamn it!” Ana was on deck and got flattened, bruising her arm, but fortunately she was not thrown from the boat, and she yelled at me that she was okay.

I gave it full throttle as the boat twisted in the surf. If we could not get off this shoal the boat was going to be in big trouble, as the tide was on the way out so SeaLight would get pounded to bits by the crashing, unrelenting waves. A large swell came through, lifted the boat, and she found water, taking us out of the danger zone and out into the uncertain darkness. My thumping heart had become fully lodged in my throat and it took a few swallows to ram it back down. Jesus.

Ana and I had awoken at 4am. I heated water, splashed my face, checked the wind forecast, then filled my Yeti with a hot drink. It was going to be a long day.

I started the boat and went up to retrieve the anchor. The heavy winds from yesterday had bent the anchor pin and I could not get it out, so had to retrieve a hammer and pliers from my toolbox to bash it free. Ana was at the helm, piloting in the darkness as I tried to release mud from the anchor with a boat hook.

Leaving Bimini in the darkness was never a good idea, but we had a good, but short weather window and we needed those hours to get to Nassau before the strong winds of the next cold front blew in and made the seas treacherous. I took the helm and Ana went up to the bow with a spotlight to light up the channel markers so I could see them. She caught sight of a giant ray flying through the water past the bow of our boat, new animal for the trip.

To avoid another grounding the plan was to leave at half tide, which would give us an additional foot and a half of water, and also to stay very tight to the green buoy where the deeper water should be. As we neared the buoy we could hear and just barely see the surf crashing into the shoals to our right. I would never admit at the time, but I was terrified. Really scared. We’d been in similar situations before, but they never get easier. You doubt yourself, your skills, your plan. But once you are committed, you can’t turn back. And if you screw it up, as captain, you have only yourself to blame. And the consequences can be severe, for the crew, for the boat, for you.

Once we were in the open water we talked about what had happened. The extra tidal water wasn’t enough. Getting closer to the marker didn’t matter. What went wrong? I pulled up the chart again and made a discovery; there was another way we could have exited the channel, safer, with more depth. I hadn’t even noticed it before because the magenta lines on the charts (these identify the most direct path between two points, in our case from Miami to Bimini) all terminated at the entrance channel we had used.

Lesson learned: When something goes wrong, don’t plan to make the same mistake a second time. Ask a local for guidance. Triple check the charts. Look for guidance online from others who have made the same mistake. Also, don’t blindly trust the markers.

We had about two hours sailing in the darkness. We had one vessel coming directly at us, who we had to call on the VHF to ask direction. We had to navigate around another dangerous shoal. It was not fun and it was not a good start to the day.

But the day got better. Much better. The sun rose to shine on the brilliant blue waters of the Bahamas Banks. We had a comfortable 9 knot wind on our beam so flew the headsail to gain more speed. There were few boats and the navigation was simple. The only strange thing was being able to see the bottom. When this happens in the lakes, you are probably seconds away from grounding your sailboat.

Ana and I had two rounds of coffee in the cockpit and a great conversation about the dictator wannabe to the south and his plans to annex Canada, then Greenland, then Panama. I already knew this was going to happen, it was just a question of when. We also talked about our visit to Bimini and the stark differences with where we had just come from. In southern Florida we saw what extreme real wealth looks like. We were surrounded by rich people driving fancy cars, fancy boats, and living in mansions. But I don’t know how happy they were. People were assholes on the roads, aggressive and mean. Everybody was in a mad rush all the time. And I have to say this - the extent and magnitude of female facial reconfiguration was shocking, and I mean in a way that there seemed to be more people with it than without it, at least the ones walking around in the rich areas. These things, to me, are not a sign of happiness. And the research backs this up – American ranks low on the happiness scale, despite their massive wealth, power, and influence in the world. So if that’s not what it takes to be happy, then what is it?

Well, the research shows that living in a place where there is little income disparity is a huge driver of this. You don’t have to be rich, but it’s better to not have many rich people around, and also not many poor people. Having everybody hovering around the middle seems to be an ingredient in the special sauce of happiness. This is why Denmark is always at the top of this list. Their social and taxation policies provide for a population that is overwhelmingly clustered around a tight income range. If you start making too much money, the government takes it away in the form of taxes. If you don't have any money, they give you some. Although this would outrage Ayn Rand, it does seem to provide for a happy populace.

My mind keeps going back to this interesting woman we met in Annapolis with whom we had a lengthy conversation in her fancy retail shop. She said the USA is all about greed. Greed drives everything. Greed kills everything. The pursuit of money is the highest societal goal. Greed is rotting the country. You Joni Mitchell the trees, put them in a tree museum, and charge people twenty-five bucks just to see ‘em. To make a bit of cash.

In Bimini, just 50 miles from Miami, we saw something different. People living simple lives. Not running around in a rush. Smiling most of the time. Waving at you from their cars instead of giving you the finger. Are there rich people on the island? Maybe, but I bet not very many of them. We saw a lot of people just talking to each other, not working particularly hard, but they all looked well fed and well dressed so I think most people do okay. Look, there's no romanticizing being poor - it sucks - but you also don’t need to be rich. And every person on Bimini has access to clean, beautiful public beaches, an ocean full of fish, a few stores to buy groceries, and probably a whole lot more spare time than the average American.

Sounds like a recipe for happiness.

We arrived in Nassau harbour at 11pm and navigated slowly through the channel, confused by the lights and bridges and orientation. But we took it slow and I had the girls up on the deck spotting for me. Once at the Montague Bay anchorage we dropped the hook but could not get it to stick, despite multiple tries in multiple areas so I tossed out our secondary anchor – the Danforth, and it stuck on the first drop. By that time we were tired as hell so we all crashed hard and fast.

Tomorrow, we explore Nassau.