Before leaving Hope Town, we motored over to the marina to fill our water tanks, plus the three jerry cans of water we have lashed on deck. When we left Trident Yacht Club, Blair was adamant that Strathspey wouldn’t look like a vagabond boat this year; no jerry cans on the deck and no laundry flapping on our lifelines. Well, we’ve knuckled under to the pressure of carrying extra water on deck mainly because docks with water are getting harder to find, but so far washday has been a marina laundry experience only. I was definitely not happy with my last experience in Green Turtle Cay though, where I’d paid $12 to do one load and it was still slightly damp after two cycles through a WWII-vintage dryer. We’re noting that some people aren’t as particular as us, especially the boat that came in beside us at the marina with all their underwear flapping wildly on the lifelines. All this, as the crew nonchalantly handed their dock lines to the dock boy. Geez, if we succumbed to that, the next thing you know, Blair would stop cutting his hair. Wait a minute…. I think he has.

Precious water

After two weeks in the Abacos, we realized that we finally had a good weather window to get across to Eleuthera via Northeast Providence Channel. There are a few different ways to get from the Northern Bahamas (the Abacos) to the Southern Bahamas (the Exumas and the furthest south we’re going). We’ve chosen a route that consists of a mixture of short and longish passages between secure anchorages and marinas. From the northern Bahamas, our planned route was across Northeast Providence Channel to Royal Island off the tip of Eleuthera. We would then sail down the lee side of Eleuthera, sheltered from the Atlantic Ocean, as far as Cape Eleuthera. From there, we would turn west and head across Exuma Sound to Warderick Wells, an island in the central Exumas.

We got an email just recently that questioned whether we think we have the right mix between going and staying. Well that’s a good question because since leaving Trident, we’ve always had some sort of pressure on us to go (whether it was a long passage, an ocean crossing or simply to “get to the other side”). We had to go through the locks so we could start down the St Lawrence, navigate the fog to enjoy the Bras d’Or lakes, get across the Gulf of Maine to enter the USA, sleigh ride down the Atlantic coast past New Jersey and Cape May to get to the Chesapeake, motor at a slow jog down the ICW to get to our jump off point to the Bahamas and finally cross the Gulf Stream so we can get to the Bahamas. So, now that we’ve “arrived”, we’d like to focus more on the staying aspect. We stayed a week in Green Turtle Cay and a week in Hope Town. We swam, met lots of people, hiked around, biked around and got our fill (I think) of cracked conch. The staying is always a high priority but what always trumps the staying card is the weather card. No matter how much fun you’re having, if the weather says go, you go. So, not sure if that answers your question Rob, but on Strathspey there is definitely much thought given to this going or staying business.

Piping under palms

Leaving Hope Town, we sailed down to Lynyard Cay, a long skinny island with few amenities. Our guidebook didn’t flag any grocery stores or resorts here and for the first time in a few weeks, we had no wifi reception. We picked this anchorage because it was a quick sail down to Little Harbour channel where we exited that calm Abaco Sea and crossed Northeast Providence Channel down to Eleuthera. We left Lynyard Cay at daybreak and crossed Northeast Providence Channel, a passage of about 50 miles and big seas. This is deep water, 12,500 feet deep, and in the middle of this channel if you look over your left shoulder, there is nothing between you and Africa so definitely nothing to scoff at. It was nice then, to have company that day and we made the crossing with Mike and Debbie and their son Cameron on Deva, a 39-foot Freya, from Ketchikan, Alaska. We sailed all the way in brisk 15-18 knot winds and eight hours later arrived at Royal Island, a small all-weather anchorage off the tip of northern Eleuthera right around the corner from Spanish Wells.

Royal Island Harbour

Royal Island harbour, although well protected from all wind directions, was ringed with craggy limestone rocks with no inviting area to go ashore. I felt a little spooked here, partially because of how isolated and rugged it was but also because I couldn’t help but think of fellow boaters from Iroquois Marina on Seahound, a 39 foot Corbin, who hit a reef off Spanish Wells a few weeks ago and had to be airlifted to Nassau. We’ve heard that the crew is fine but Seahound is a complete write-off. Sad news. We stayed tucked in at Royal Island for two nights waiting for strong winds and squalls to pass and then headed down to Governor’s Harbour, where we sheltered behind Levi Island. Our guidebook said this anchorage had poor holding but there was a sand bar running from the northern tip of the island to the mainland so we felt our way gently up as far as the sandbar, dropped our anchor there, drifted back over the poor holding area and did not budge all night. The waves and swell outside our anchorage were too big to risk a dinghy trip into the town of Colebrooke so, at this point, three days into Eleuthera, we still had not set foot on the island.

Levi Island

Eleuthera is hard to pin down. It’s remote, with few sheltered anchorages along its western shore. Its shorelines are jagged with porous limestone and a sustenance depth of soil. The trees look stunted and wind-blown and the predominant colour is not the rich dark greens of the Abacos but more of a subdued army fatigue green. The major crop here was pineapples until hurricane Andrew in 1992 destroyed most of the fields and now most folks on this island are involved in fishing or tourism. We think the lobstering must be good here because on our passage from Royal Island down to Governor’s Harbour, we dodged hundreds of lobster floats. We hadn’t seen this many floats since the Chesapeake and had to keep a close lookout as they were small, fist-sized floats (more like giant worry beads) and were hard to see. The weather in Eleuthera is a definite plus though as it’s been warm and sunny for our entire passage down this island.

Cape Eleuthera

From Governor’s Harbour, we sailed down to Cape Eleuthera and besides Strathspey and Deva, there was only one other cabin cruiser in the brand new marina facilities there. We’re not sure if the season was slow or they’d missed their advertising window but this marina and associated resort, out in the middle of nowhere and fully staffed, were almost complete empty. We got our pick of docks and lots of attention though and as an added bonus, we had excellent wifi and cell phone reception. It was expensive at $2/foot but a good place to stage the next part of our trip, over to the Exumas for Christmas. At 8 am the next day, both Strathspey and Deva headed out towards Warderick Wells Cay in the central area of the Exuma island chain.

Cape Eleuthera marina

The Exumas are a long string of islands that start about 35 miles south of Nassau and run about 100 miles south to Hog Cay. The deep and wide Exuma Sound runs down their eastern shores but to the west is the shallow Great Bahama Bank with average depths of 6-20 feet. There are good anchorages, wonderful snorkeling and excellent sailing to be had for the entire length of the Exumas but to score all this, you have to negotiate the narrow inlets or cuts leading from the deep Exuma Sound through to the shallow bank. With tides rising and falling twice a day, when it comes to these inlets and the water rushing in and out of them, think venturi effect. It was important to time our arrival in Warderick Wells to coincide with a slack tidal current so we could go through the Warderick Wells Cut safely and enter the anchorage with a negligible current. We checked the tide tables for Nassau and arrived at the entrance to Warderick Wells Cut about a half hour before low tide and were pleased to have only .5 knots of current against us. We were happy to have Mike on Deva confirm our calculations; Mike’s a marine pilot in Alaska during the summer months and these calculations are child’s play for him we think.

Warderick Wells is within the Exuma Cays Land and Sea Park, a protected marine area that encompasses 176 square miles in the Exumas. Mooring balls have been installed in much of this area to prevent the inevitable damage to coral caused by anchoring. We feel so lucky to get a mooring here this week as this is one of the most popular areas of the Exumas and one of the hardest to secure a spot in. Surrounded on all sides by islands, a boat could simply stay here all winter and weather the cold fronts regardless of which way the wind blew. Ensuring that everyone has a chance to enjoy the park though, the wardens don’t take reservations and boats are limited to a 15-day stay in the park.

Warderick Wells

This mooring field holds about 20 moorings, set in the only deep water in the protected bay. The moorings are set about 200 feet apart in a long line shaped like a fishhook and we’re right around the corner at the sharp end on the last mooring ball in 8 feet of water. Enclosed in the middle of this fish hook is a sandbar that takes up the rest of the anchorage. The sand bar is only about three inches under water at low tide and there are two families here on adjoining catamarans whose kids are having a ball, running back and forth between the two boats, “walking on water”.

Christmas dinner

Christmas Day, the park hosted a turkey dinner on the beach at 2 pm; important timing as this was low tide and the picnic tables would be above water at that point. About 30 people arrived at the beach via dinghy and we had smoked roast turkey, ham, lots of different types of salads and way too many deserts. The sun shone, the little ones ran in and out of the shallow water clutching turkey in one sandy hand and fresh rolls in the other, the adults swapped stories and sand got in all the food but it was a special Christmas dinner and definitely unexpected when we arrived on December 24th. Apparently, this has been a tradition for 30 years so it was just our luck to arrive here to enjoy it.

Christmas phone calls

There is rudimentary wifi connection here but when all the cruisers are logged in, this connection gets slower and slower. We dinghied into the park headquarters early on Christmas Day and called home to wish everyone a Merry Christmas. Sitting on the porch of the park warden’s headquarters, we were able to get a half decent skype connection but out on Strathspey, there’s no signal whatsoever.

Very tame

We think we’re going to stay here at Warderick Wells for a little while. The snorkeling is wonderful and there are all kinds of neat little walking trails that run from one end of the island to the other. We hiked one on Christmas morning which ran the gamut of rough limestone to cool shaded forests and then on up to that infamous Boo Boo Hill. Boo Boo Hill is only about 19 meters high but that’s considered high in these parts. Every year, cruisers hike the hill, scrawl their name on whatever boards happen to be handy up there and place it on top of an ever-growing pile of what is basically a scrap wood heap. Every year, the park wardens clear the pile out and the next year the cruisers do it again (a persistent bunch those cruisers). We say good bye to Deva here too. They leave Warderick Wells on Boxing Day as they are on a schedule to get their son Cameron to Georgetown to fly home to school in Seattle. As well, they have their sights set on Trinidad for April so they have a long journey ahead of them. We’ve enjoyed sailing with them for these last five days and have sent them off with lots of good wishes.

So life is still good and we post this blog today to wish you all a very very Merry!

Strathspey at Warderick Wells, Christmas 2007

Atlantic Waves

Rolling into Green Turtle Cay just in time to clear customs last Friday night, we anchored in White Sound, a moderate-sized anchorage with land on three sides and a long channel leading in. We came in here to shelter from some high winds expected from Tropical storm Olga, a late-breaking post-hurricane season storm. The central and southern Bahamas were hammered with gale force winds but we escaped with 20 knot winds only. Here too, we caught up on a few outstanding boat chores.

Blair was finally able to don fins and mask and confirm the state of our sacrificial anode. Disappointingly, it has started to corrode to a point that we will schedule a haulout to replace the anode in mid January depending where we are. We liked Green Turtle Cay; it’s a warm and friendly place and definitely low key. Every day we were there, at some point during the day, we’d hear a call on the VHF channel 16. “Break, break, this is the Green Turtle Club dining announcement. All interested parties, please switch to channel 69″. On channel 69, this sweet and mellow voice proceeded to describe their dinner menu. It usually consisted of a 4-course meal with three or four entrées only. The entrées were described in such loving detail, you’d think you were reading a menu from a 5-star restaurant; “succulent pan-fried grouper almondine prepared with a mango salsa, fresh string beans and Bahamian peas and rice prepared daily on our premises…” She finished with the reminder that cocktails and h’ordeurves were served at 6:45 and all reservations must be received by 5 pm. I love it!

Ottawa snow

Right now, I’m reading what is likely to be one of my most favourite books this year, “Eat, Pray, Love” by Elizabeth Gilbert (borrowed from Jeannie on Estelle). The story deals with the author’s quest for pleasure and inner calm. Her pleasure definitely peaks in Italy, due not a little bit in part to the wonderful food she discovers there. Much of our pleasure over the past six months has centered on food as well. We got an email from a friend of ours with the comment, “Is that all you guys do is eat down there?” Yes, I must admit that food does play an important part in our day. Although this is a sailing tour of the Atlantic coast down to the Bahamas, it’s been a gastronomic tour of sorts as well. We’ve been more than happy to dine on whatever the regional delicacies happen to be; Fletán in the Gaspé, lobster in Nova Scotia and Maine, Blue Crabs in the Chesapeake, peanuts in Virginia, shrimps and BBQ in the southern states and now conch in the Bahamas. We’ve enjoyed it all and I’ve even attempted to reproduce some of these dinners on Strathspey. I’ve realized though that there are definitely some recipes that seemed relatively simple, yet I’ve trashed our small kitchen and used every pot and pan I own. We’re talking about those dinners where you have to wash the dishes BEFORE the dinner - all you chefs out there know that of which I speak! I’ve been banned from making those meals on Strathspey now that we’re monitoring our fresh water consumption so closely.

The cooking on board has taken some adjusting to but so have our evening hours. Blair was browsing in a bookstore during our travels and came across a book that contained a whole slew of interesting boat stats. One of them declared that 80% of boaters, while cruising, go to bed around 8 pm. I have to admit that, unless we’re out visiting another boat or out for dinner, we’re hard pressed to stay awake past 8 pm so we’re well within this 80%. On the other hand, we’re up at the crack of dawn, long before Chris Parker’s weather SSB broadcast at 6:30 am.

Bahamian buoy

Every morning, when we listen to Chris, we’re feeling a little bit inclined to pat ourselves on the back for having crossed to the Bahamas when we did. Boats have been stacking up in Lake Worth, Fort Lauderdale and Miami for the last week and a half with not much chance of making that dash across in the foreseeable future. Tropical storm Olga plus a succession of cold fronts in the US have all conspired to keep boats holed up in Florida. They say that as December progresses, you get fewer and fewer weather windows to skedaddle across the Gulf Stream. Because the stream flows north at a good clip, any wind that blows against it (Northwest, North or Northeast) sets up large and uncomfortable standing waves. Sometimes, the waves are not only uncomfortable, they’re downright dangerous. So we’re glad we gathered up our gumption and made the leap when we did.

Exotic fruits

Even here we’re feeling the effects of the cold fronts as the wind blows. And it blows! It’s common knowledge that in the northern Bahamas, the Abacos that is, this time of year is windy. Yep, it’s warm and the sun shines down every day but the wind is incessant. Even in those sheltered little anchorages, with protection from most directions, the wind still catches Strathspey’s bow and pulls her anchor taut. I’m glad to be here but I have to confess, I have yet to sleep a night straight through. When that wind starts ratcheting up to the point where it’s a high-pitched whine through our rigging, I hear it all and get up to check that all the lights onshore are in the same location as they were the last time I looked two hours previously.

Waking us up every night as well is our nightly rain shower. This is dry season right now and there are few clouds during the day but every night we get at least one minute of rain. Just enough to make us get out of bed, close all the hatches and comment that it’s way too hot to have everything shut up. By that time, the rain has stopped and we simply open all the hatches and climb back into bed.

Conch

One of the nicer things we’re noticing here is the lack of those razor-sharp mussels on all the docks. All the way down to Florida, we’d scrambled to keep our dinghy well away from these mussels for fear they’d puncture the thick rubber, yet now in the Bahamas, there is no sign of them. On a more practical note, we definitely notice the big difference in prices here. Diesel is $5/US gallon, chemi-loaf bread (the pre-packaged white sliced stuff) is $4/loaf and the automatic washers and dryers are a whopping $4/load. On the other hand, there is no income tax or sales tax here so any money required to support the infrastructure must come from the high duties slapped on all their goods. We’re thinking it’s not a terrible price to pay for the privilege of spending a warm winter in one of the prettier areas of the Bahamas.

Christmas decorating is well underway in Ottawa but in Green Turtle Cay we noticed that there were very few Christmas lights set out and we saw no signs of inflatable Santas or Frosty Snowmen. Rather than throwing a set of lights out on the front lawn, many people in Green Turtle Cay were painting their house the week we were there; vivid yellows, turquoises and blues. Apparently, a fresh coat of paint is the traditional way to greet the Christmas season on that particular island.

We enjoyed Green Turtle Cay although the holding in White Harbour was poor; we anchored in three different locations during the week. After three days in one spot, one morning I thought we might have been in the middle of a slo-mo drag, although it was hard to tell. In fact, Blair was pretty sure our anchor chain was just stretching out in the higher winds. Nevertheless, when in doubt, our motto has always been to re-anchor (not an overwhelming task with our electric windlass to help us). Compounding the poor holding were all the mooring balls throughout this anchorage - something we hadn’t seen a lot of since Maine. Tied to one of the mooring balls close to us was Teaghlach, a Gulfstar 36 from Ottawa. Gerry and Joan on board Teaghlach graciously insisted that there was lots of room to anchor in front of their mooring ball and that they’d just put out a longer line but we decided to move off to the far corner of the anchorage by ourselves. Visiting on board Teaghlach later, we discovered that Gerry and Joan, born in Glasgow but lately of Ottawa, love bagpipes. Blair tooted his pipes for them and was amazed when Joan was moved to tears all because the last time she’d heard the pipes was the day they left Ottawa on this cruising trip. I am pretty sure that is the first time he’s had such an overwhelming response to his piping; very flattering.

We stayed at Green Turtle Cay for a week and then decided it was time for a change of scenery. To get this change of scenery, we had to negotiate an inlet, the Whale Cay Cut, a few miles south of Green Turtle. The islands and cays of the western Abacos form a graceful half moon that arcs from Walker’s Cay in the northwest gently around to the East and then South to Lynyard Cay. On the eastern side of these islands, the Atlantic Ocean pounds the shore and litters the beaches with all manner of seaweed, flotsam and jetsam. On the west side of the islands, the Abaco Sea is protected and calm and the beaches are among the most beautiful in the world. To make our way any further south, we had to go through the Whale Cay Cut, a slight detour out of the calm Abaco Sea, and a short hobbyhorse ride in the Atlantic Ocean for awhile before ducking back inside to sheltered waters. On calm days, this passage is a non-event but when the wind blows steadily from the east for days at a time, the big rollers bully their way into the cut and no boats dare attempt this route. We waited for the 9-foot waves to settled down and, along with about 10 other boats, easily made this little detour so we could explore the rest of the Abacos south of Green Turtle Cay.

Entrance to Hope Town

Once through the cut, we headed south for Hope Town on Elbow Cay to wait for the passage of yet another cold front with predicted 25-30 knot winds. We actually got ourselves a mooring ball because parking space is at a premium here in Hope Town Harbour. Being on a mooring ball, we’re naturally just sitting here using up precious battery power; to be more accurate, Blair says we’re power sluts. With an electric refrigerator, our SSB radio and our computer, I’m afraid I have to agree with him. Once a day then, we fire up our generator, a Honda 2000, and boost our batteries back up to 100%. There’s a definite protocol with respect to generator operation in a small harbour. This is mostly because, along with generating power, it also generates a bit of noise; definitely more than a wind generator but not too much more than simply running our engine. One by one, around 4:30, the boats in this harbour start up their generators and run them for a few hours. This is not like plugging into the grid though. It’s just more of a stop-gap measure until we reach the next dock.

Hope Town has everything you’d need or want; an excellent pink sand beach for swimming, good paved roads for biking, water (at $0.25/gallon), diesel, quaint narrow concrete slab roads in the waterfront area for strolling on and Vernon’s, a good grocery store. Vernon’s, with Vernon himself behind the cash register sells everything you’d need in the way of food plus a whole bunch more for your psyche. His walls, counters and cash register are covered with scraps of paper inscribed with little bites of wisdom; “Behind every successful man is the woman he did it all for”, “A smile is a curve that sets everything straight” and my favourite, “Lead, follow, or get out of the way”. Vernon also bakes a mean key lime pie which we sampled one night, courtesy of Estelle .

When we arrived here in Hope Town, we paid for water for the first time on this trip. To fill our 40 gallon bow tank with water and a 5 gallon jerry can with diesel cost us $38. Although we thought we were really conserving water (using about 10 gallons a day), obviously this water consumption will be a big consideration when we plan forays into some more remote areas; both the cost and the availability.

Hope Town Harbour

We’re staying in Hope Town for a little while so as to have good wifi and telephone connections right now. It’s been great to be able to call everyone at home this past week, two or three times a day, making sure that all is well and under control (despite your 30-40 cms of snow). I’m glad too that the majority of Buchanan’s are in Ottawa for Christmas to include Sandy and Brooklyn in their celebrations. Being so far away at times like this and especially over Christmas, it’s a good feeling to know that we have a wide circle of family and friends to depend on to take care of the two most important people in our lives.

So, at this point, we’re not really sure where we’ll be spending Christmas but it will definitely be unlike any other before. Every day on the cruiser’s net, a verbal community bulletin board on channel 68, we hear announcements for upcoming caroling, dinners, fireworks and church services. Proof positive that at this time of year, friends are naturally gathering together to celebrate the holiday in one another’s company.

We left our Lake Worth anchorage at 11 pm Wednesday night to cross over to the Bahamas, specifically Great Sale Cay which is the first good anchorage on the way to the Western Abacos in northern Bahamas. I called Chris Parker, the weather guru, for a personal forecast for Wednesday and he said it’s seldom (maybe 4 or 5 times in a season) that you’d actually get to sail to the Bahamas so if we wanted a fast sail and didn’t mind strapping things down, it was a good night. He also reminded me that if we didn’t go that night, we’d be facing at least a week before another good weather window presented itself.

The alternative was to sit in Lake Worth until the following Wednesday; not a very good alternative because surprisingly, if you are not at one of the many marinas in this area, you are not particularly welcome here. We’d spent two nights at the Old Port Cove Marina which was part of a gated community with more mega yachts tied up there than we’d seen in one place before. While here, we had access to laundry, showers and great dock help while Blair changed our engine’s raw water pump impeller and did various other small odd jobs. Once we left on Wednesday morning though, it felt like the screen door had slammed behind us as the office staff said emphatically that we could not come back there for showers or laundry or any other errands once we left. I’m not sure what all those boaters do when they get stuck in Lake Worth for weeks at a time waiting for good weather windows - get good and dirty and not a little bit cranky I suppose.

So, we decided that all things considered, it was a good time to cross and to stage our departure we left at 2 pm for a smaller anchorage, right around the corner from the Lake Worth inlet to the ocean. Anticipating my usual queasinesses during night sailing, I didn’t eat dinner and napped for a good three hours while the alarm was set for 10 pm. At 11, Strathspey and Madcap up-anchored and motored out into the ocean, Bahamas bound. Ah well….. it seems that those dratted following seas always go hand in hand with our overnight crossings and this was no exception. We did make good time across the Gulf Stream however. The stream was about 30 miles wide that night and gave us the expected push north which we counteracted by setting a course slightly south of our destination. We called back and forth to Madcap to check on each other’s Gulf Stream effect throughout the night and it was a relatively uneventful evening except for a heart-pounding encounter with a dimly lit tanker that refused to answer our increasingly urgent VHF calls. When it became obvious that we were on a collision course, we altered direction, the tanker altered direction, then we altered direction again, all the while calling him. With a final turn towards the Florida coast, he passed on by with absolutely no acknowledgment at all. Any drowsiness we might have been feeling at that point was gone completely and we didn’t completely relax until we reached the shallow waters of the Little Bahama Bank.

First Fish

Most of the way across, we were in a little less than 2000 feet of water. As we neared the banks, the water depth shallowed quickly to 10 feet. The colour change made us gasp as well; it’s blue, blue, blue - just like the travel glossies show it. In 10 feet of water, you can see the bottom so clearly that you’re constantly checking your depth meter to make sure you’re not about to run aground. Blair put out his fishing line and immediately caught a Cero (a cousin to the Spanish Mackerel). Lacking a net and reluctant to have fish scales sprayed throughout our cockpit, I opened a giant ziplock bag and Blair maneuvered our dinner into the bag. The books all recommend spritzing the gills with cheap gin or vodka to subdue the fish but we were unprepared for this first catch and Blair simply unscrewed the cap of some fine vodka and poured a generous number of fingers in the general vicinity of our Cero’s head. Our fish settled down into an alcoholic stupour after that and we put it in the fridge until Blair could clean it. We ate it for dinner that night; grilled with a paste of olive oil and dijon mustard. Wonderful!

We’ve arrived

We arrived at the Little Bahama Bank around 8 am but still had another 7 hours before we reached the first good anchorage, Great Sale Cay. The first thing Blair did when we arrived on the banks was to haul our yellow quarantine flag up our flag halyard. If that flag was a book, it would have been dog-eared by the time we reached the Bahamas; we’ve been looking forward to this occasion for more than a year and that yellow flag represented success in our books.

As soon as we reached the banks, the wind swung around to the north to help flatten out the waves so we shut down our engine and had a beautiful sail for a good five hours before firing up our motor to make Great Sale Cay before dark. Great Sale Cay is an uninhabited, low-lying island that is a common arrival and jump off point for boaters moving back and forth between Lake Worth and the northern Bahamas. That afternoon, there were five boats that had arrived and dropped anchor, four of whom were flying the yellow flag. We had an excellent celebratory party on Madcap, along with Dragonfly, a catamaran that crossed at the same time but we hadn’t seen until we overtook them on the banks. That night, the stars truly blanketed the sky (likely because there was no light pollution within 30 miles of this island). The anchorage was glassy calm and we slept well except for one point during the night when I woke up and said, “Where are we?”. When Blair said “At dock”, I guess I bolted for the cockpit in some confusion (what a brat!) to reassure myself that all was well. Our friends on Estelle tell us that after they got back to PEI from their trip down here last year, they were constantly waking up in their bed in Charlottetown because they felt the anchorage was too calm.

Ocean view

The Bahamas is pretty laid back about entering and clearing customs but we felt we couldn’t really relax and more importantly we couldn’t go ashore until we cleared customs. We obviously couldn’t do anything in uninhabited Great Sale Cay so the next day we decided to make a beeline for one of the five customs offices scattered throughout the Abacos. Our nearest choices were Walker’s Cay (an out of the way island with an entrance that was likely too shallow for Strathspey to navigate), Spanish Cay or Green Turtle Cay. It was too funny as we cruised along with miles of open ocean around us and heard that familiar ding-ding indicating a text message on our phone. Roger’s had sent us a “Welcome to Bahamas” message. We had pretty good reception but cell phone calls here are $4/minute and $0.60/text message so we likely aren’t going to use our cell phone too often. But we did use it that day to save ourselves a wasted trip into Spanish Cay. Blair called to check on clearing customs there and the girl said the office was closing early this Friday because the one agent on duty had to leave.

Green Turtle Cay

That left Green Turtle Cay as our alternative and as we rounded the corner of Crab Cay, with the wind in a more favourable direction, we pulled out both sails and headed south. As we sailed by Powell Cay, Estelle, who was anchored in there for lunch and a swim, hailed us on the VHF. They had made their Bahamas crossing three days earlier and were well into that island time mojo. After clearing customs in Walker’s Cay, Estelle had slowly picked her way down the northern chain of islands in the Abacos, taking time to stop and smell the coconuts.

Customs office

When it became obvious that we weren’t going to arrive at the customs office in Green Turtle by 5 pm, Blair called the island customs office in Marsh Harbour to ask their advice. They were relaxed and friendly and said “Don’t worry mon” and gave us the personal cell phone of Bridget Russell, the Green Turtle Cay customs officer. When Blair called her, she also said, don’t worry, go anchor and then dinghy in and she’d wait. She did more than that; she drove to the government dinghy dock and picked him up. It was a quick clear in and we were glad we’d persisted.

Preparing Conch

We’re glad because today we got ourselves a golf cart and toured Green Turtle Cay, ate excellent cracked conch and grouper at Miss Emily’s Blue Bee Bar and picked up a good fish book to identify all those fish Blair is going to catch as well as a book on the life of Randolph Johnston, a well known sculptor from the Abacos.

So we’re here! And glad to be here! We’re wondering too if, after all the go, go, going since June, we’ll be able to put the brakes on and adapt to island time. Only wondering mind you, not worrying, so we may just have already made that adjustment. We’re feeling free as birds right now and definitely ready for some island time and good skylarking.

Florida. Lake Worth. The end of our trip south on the ICW.

Florida is a long state and after eight pretty steady days of nothing but motoring (with the occasional motor/sail) it sure felt like a lot of the same old, same old. But, at the same time, Florida is a study in contrast; along the ICW we see unkempt little trailers right next to opulent mansions, derelict live-aboard boats nose to nose with multi-million dollar yachts and throughout the past week and a half, we’ve experienced cold blustery days and now scorching hot (28°C) sunny weather. No wonder everyone eventually heads to Florida - there’s something for everyone. For us, there’s the warmth, the easy anchorages and docks and there’s our planned departure point for the Bahamas, Lake Worth.

Aground

We were sorry to leave Fernandina Beach and the great hospitality we’d enjoyed, but we slipped our dock lines at 8 am last Saturday morning in 22 knots of wind and headed 40 miles downstream to a lumpy anchorage at Pine Island. Pine Island was a busy place because, just like after Hurricane Noel last month, the boats were stacked up and many of them landed in at Pine Island with us. These boats were bunched up because of the well-attended Boater’s Thanksgiving dinner held every year in St Mary’s around the corner from Fernandina Beach. It’s a mega potluck with one of the local restaurants supplying all the turkeys and the boaters each bringing a dish of something to share. Seabird joined the group and reported back that it was an excellent party with well over 100 boats in attendance.

Pine Island was not a nice anchorage. The tidal current ruled here and dictated which way our bow pointed despite a howling wind from the north all night. We swung around our anchor chain more than a few times with the changing tides and for quite a bit of the night, the waves broke against our stern which definitely did not make for a rock-a-bye-baby kind of sleep down below. By the time we were ready to leave, our anchor was well and truly stuck. Normally we can pull it up with our electric windlass but this time we had to give the windlass a little help and power forward until the anchor broke free. All that twirling around twisted the anchor chain which got stuck in the windlass gypsy and sheared the bolts that hold the two halves together - a problem that we had once before back in the Bras d’or lakes. So, for the second time on this trip, Blair took the windlass apart and reinserted new bolts when we dropped anchor in St Augustine a few hours later. He’s becoming a pro at that particular job and made quick work of it.

Flagler College

St Augustine was a pretty town with the old fort, Castillo de San Marcos, as its focal point. The town is full of red tile roofs, neat little restaurants with outdoor second-story balconies and lots of narrow-bricked alleys featuring excellent window shopping - I say window shopping as I can’t sneak anything else aboard aboard Strathspey these days because of our power grocery shopping expedition in Fernandina Beach. We dropped anchor in front of the fort and the spiciest boat gossip in the harbour the day we arrived was of a ketch that had dragged into a sloop in a high wind a few days earlier. There was obvious damage to the sloop and, during a break from his windlass job, Blair watched two policemen going from boat to boat collecting statements for an accident report. This was a crowded harbour with a very strong current that changed direction four times over a 24-hour period so anchor dragging in strong winds is a common occurrence. Curious, Blair turned our instruments on and over a 3 hour period, our knot meter registered 0.8 miles traveled so definitely a strong current. Our only complaint in St Augustine was the noise from the almost constant construction on the Bridge of Lions which spans the ICW. We arrived on Sunday when the workers were on holiday but on Monday night they worked well past 8 pm. This bridge was declared an historic site shortly before major structural erosion was discovered. Apparently, historic sites must be repaired rather than replaced so the state built a 36-million dollar temporary bridge while they take ’til 2010 to repair the original bridge. When you hail the bridge for an opening, the bridge tender very precisely answers, “This is the temporary Bridge of Lions”.

Fort Matanzas

We left St Augustine and headed just a short distance downstream to an anchorage on the Matanzas River. It was a leap of faith to enter this anchorage because our charts didn’t show any depths for that area. Skipper Bob’s publication said to turn left to leave the main channel and stay in the middle of the river until we were just opposite Fort Matanzas. Well, sometimes he’s right and sometimes he’s not. This time he was bang on though; a peaceful little river with beautiful scenery as a backdrop and the bonus in this out-of-the-way spot was a half decent wifi connection to get our emails.

Mega mansion

One thing we’ve really noticed this past week is that Florida is fishing country and Floridians love to fish. You see them out in their huge sport fishing boats, perched precariously on the bow of their little runabouts and even standing on the piers under the bridges we pass by. They love fishing so much that when they build new high rise bridges here, they don’t even tear the old bridges down - they leave them for fishers to cast from. Also, as soon as we hit Florida, any semblance to lake sailing completely disappeared; south of Daytona Beach especially, we were in a real honest-to-goodness ditch. It was about 300 feet wide, anywhere from 7 to 15 feet deep and straight as an arrow. Our view of the surrounding countryside was pretty limited because of either dense trees lining the shores or wall-to-wall houses. Daytona Beach was a slight widening in the ditch and from our ICW-centric view we figure it must be a fairly large center because within three short miles we passed under two 65-foot fixed bridges and requested an opening from two swing bridges.

Blair played his pipes at dusk in Daytona and afterwards, on the VHF radio, a wonderful thick brogue accent said, “Thankyou Strathspey, that was the loveliest rendition of The Dark Island I’ve ever heard”. As per usual, we know this Scot’s boat name but haven’t yet discovered his name. He’s traveling on a catamaran called Sam the Skull (I’m sure there’s a story there…)

Kids being kids

The next morning we left Jim, who had been soloing on Madcap since Fernandina Beach. Jim had pulled into a marina to do some boat work and wait for Beth to fly in from Halifax later that day. Shortly after heading off, we got a phone call from John Page of Trident Yacht Club, to say that he was in Daytona getting some boat work done. Unfortunately, at that point, we were a good five miles downstream so we didn’t connect but we’re just starting to realize what a small world this ICW travel club is and at this point, we’re all heading in the same direction so I’m sure we will meet up eventually this winter.

Kennedy Space Center

As we made our way downstream from Daytona Beach, the silos and buildings of the Kennedy Space center were visible for hours and when we dropped anchor in Titusville harbour, we decided that this would be a primo place to watch a space shot from. There are two coming up soon; December 6th, the shuttle is going up and December 10th, an Atlas 5 with a “classified” payload. Boats are starting to fill up the good anchorages, marinas and mooring fields around Cape Canaveral in anticipation of these launches. In Titusville, acting on a recommendation from our friend Evan Gamblin, we had dinner at the Dixie Crossroads. His tip was to have the Rock shrimp, so named because the effort to pry them open is akin to splitting rocks. This restaurant has mastered the technique and shrimp aficionados from all over the country flock here (this must be true because Gourmet magazine said so….). We both opted for a shrimp comparison sort of order with a sampling of Rock shrimp, Brown shrimp and White shrimp (these are the ones we get at home in Ottawa). Although fairly small, the rock shrimp were our favourite; delicate, a little salty and broiled to perfection with a light brush of butter. Thanks Evan, this restaurant is definitely worth a return visit.

Jones Fruit Dock

We left Titusville planning a relatively short day to Melbourne but with great winds we made our planned destination just after noon so we continued on. The next anchorage down the ICW had been recommended by Skipper Bob and this was one of those times he was wrong. We turned off the channel to anchor behind an island and saw our depth drop suddenly to 5.5 feet. Rather than chance a grounding, we spun in our tracks, got back in the channel and continued on down to the Jones Fruit Company dock. This is basically a front yard dock and the owner, Dick Jones, lets transient boaters stay here just to meet them and hear their stories. Mr. Jones’ neighbour, Scott, took our lines and told us Mr Jones was in the hospital but to please put our money in the box on the wall and enjoy our stay. It was a bargain at $10/night and we were the only boat docked at this psychedelic-painted dock in the heart of upscale Vero Beach area residences. We’d heard that Vero Beach is often referred to as Velcro Beach - basically because the community provides such a welcome that many snowbird boaters arrive here and go no further. Scott told us that the locals refer to it as The Black Hole because the transient boaters heading south disappear into Vero Beach and aren’t heard from again. Not us - we passed on by with our eyes set on North Palm Beach and Lake Worth.

Staying between the lines

We passed Vero Beach and we passed Ft Pierce, another jump-off point for the northern Bahamas but one that we decided to forgo so as to make a shorter hop over from Lake Worth. South of Ft Pierce, motoring down the ICW is like driving through the Prairies; flat and uncommonly straight. I’ll zip that thought though because here the weather is hot and sunny which more than makes up for this particular passage. We’ve been hearing that the weather is cold and snowy across most of Canada. I seldom get weather-gloating rights over my friend Karen in Nanoose B.C. and this is definitely a first as they are getting snow out there also.

Mangrove swamps

So here in Lake Worth, we’re giving Strathspey her last fresh water bath until April (I say last because water in the Bahamas is mostly via reverse osmosis and quite expensive, so only for drinking) and getting our fill of being on the grid (again, not a common occurrence in the Bahamas, mostly because marinas are few and far between once you start heading into the southern Bahamas). We’re pouring over our Bahamas charts, thinking about being in those crystal clear waters and hoping we get a good weather window soon. This crossing is shorter than most of the other big ones we’ve done but it has the complication of the Gulf Stream, a fast flowing river that is going to sweep us northward off our course as soon as we enter it. It varies but is approximately 50 miles wide and can run up to 3 or 4 knots so there will be some definite dog tracking going on during our crossing.

Ho Ho Ho