Now that we’re home and securely locked into our life on land routine, we have looked back on this, our second major voyage aboard Let’s Dance, with satisfaction and a sense of accomplishment earned through persistence, patience, creativity and more than a touch of luck.
We have enough maritime memories to last for years, and enough pilfered shells to pave a walkway. Some of our favorite times were spent on remote anchorages, deserted white sand beaches only a Love Me Tender ride away from the mother ship. The lack of other boats in the Exumas was surprising to us, but pleasant, as we tend to shy away from crowds wherever we go. This is due, no doubt in part, to our anchoring technique. Again, with the mathematical precision of a computer programmer, the captain figures the correct ratio of water depth to length of rode (sea talk for anchor chain) necessary for optimum holding. Calculations made, we often put out 100 to 150 feet of chain. Imagine you‘re in ten feet of water then, and you can see that our potential arc is over 90 feet! No wonder we try to anchor off from the crowds. Often we would share an anchorage with only sea critters for company. Perfect!
Let’s Dance’s Bahamian voyage saw many new entries for our daily logs:
We added 1,400 nautical miles to the odometer and are new proud owners of a Nordhavn 5,000 mile club pennant! It will be proudly displayed adjacent to the 2,500 mile pennant we earned mid-summer last year on our Maine adventure.
We made our first ocean crossing and our first overnighter with just the pair of us on board. I was skeptical of my ability to hold up with little sleep, but Bill’s confidence and good humor got us through with only minor grumbling on my part.
The longest continuous leg of the journey was 203 nautical miles. It took us about 28 hours -- divided into two hour watches -- and gallons of hot coffee -- to make the offshore passage from Port Canaveral, FL to Sapelo Island, SC. About 8 am the second morning we were entertained by a trio of bottlenose dolphins as they charged our bow then leapt and dove, using our wake as a their own personal rollercoaster. Later, during one of my daylight stints, I sighted what appeared to be a swiftly moving shopping mall skimming along the horizon. As it moved closer, I could spot several Coast Guard escorts, so obviously, it was not a mall. It proved to be an honest to goodness Navy nuclear submarine. On the surface! Soon the VHF radio crackled, with a young male voice saying, “Let’s Dance, this is the US Coast Guard! Answer on channel 16!” By this time, Bill was in the pilothouse with me and he picked up the call. “This is Let’s Dance on 16, what can we do for you?” Young voice: “I have to advise you, captain, that you must keep a minimum distance of 500 yards from all naval vessels!” Hmmm…Captain Bill responds, with assurance, “Yes, sir! Our radar indicates that we are 2 and a half miles from the submarine.” Young voice: “Ah, yes, well, carry on, captain.” Guess we showed him we know our stuff!
Positive surprises included cooler weather than anticipated, the accuracy of our charts (both paper and electronic), the friendliness of the Bahamian people and the broad coverage of Bahama’s phone service. (Remember the 13 phone calls Bill made to James in West Palm as he reattached the fallen windlass?)
Minor disappointments were again primarily technical in nature. Internet access was problematic at best and infuriatingly slow when it deigned to appear at all. Our navigation system often cut out at the beginning of the journey, but with two backup systems, we were never really out of touch with our surroundings -- just slightly aggravated until Bill worked with the tech folks and got us back on line.
Mother Nature did more than her share of both delighting us and giving us pause. I saw the ‘green flash’ twice, five water spouts kept us rapt as they danced away from us, flying fish by the hundreds skipped to port and starboard as we disturbed their peace and Bill caught enough fish to both eat and freeze. And the stars -- beyond my pale ability to describe.
We also encountered ‘the rage’ for the first (and second) times on the return trip aboard our sturdy ship. A rage forms at inlets or breakwaters when outgoing tides collide with incoming swells pushed by substantial winds. Our exit from the Ft. Pierce, FL channel into the Atlantic provided just the right conditions for an angry sea. Swells of up to eight feet slammed our bow repeatedly -- 20 minutes or so that felt like hours. We lunged forward then reared back as the waves pounded on Let’s Dance. Aside from minor discomfort at not being able to move around, we suffered no damage and were once again pleased with our choice of boat. Our second encounter with the rage took place at the juncture of Sapelo Sound and the Atlantic. Again, a narrow breakwater channeled the outgoing tide directly into the incoming swells but, having experienced this before, we were prepared for the wild ride. (A lesson learned early on in our aquatic adventures: always secure everything in the boat, from dishes to books to food in the fridge, before getting underway.)
So, the 2011 spring voyage of Let’s Dance brought laughs, awe, patience, hard work, luck, pride, deep breaths and wonder. We had such a great time that we’re going to do it again! July will see Bill and some buddies making an offshore passage from Daufuskie to the Chesapeake where I will join him for the rest of the summer’s travels. We hope to spend more time in fewer places this summer, but as before, will just follow our noses and see where we end up.
Oh, “Water Logs.” Only recently I learned that the unfortunate word “blog” was derived from the terms “web” and “log.” I don’t like that, so from now on, these little snippets of our life at sea will be ‘water logs.’ Enjoy your summer and come back for another trip aboard
Let’s Dance…..Carol & Bill
Sunday, May 22, 2011
Monday, May 2, 2011
Home Again, Home Again
After almost three months of leisurely wandering the isolated cays of the Exumas and the Abacos aboard Let’s Dance, it’s finally time to return to our other world. As with our initial jaunt across the Gulf Stream, this passage was planned with the precision of a military mission. First comes reconnaissance: chart books, guides, calculators are gathered. Angles depicting the likely push of the Gulf Stream flow are factored in as well as wind speed and direction, boat speed (or lack thereof), currents and tides. Sunrise, moon rise, possibility of rain. It’s all there. I am reminded of the old math problem wherein the eastbound train, traveling at 53 mph with 9 passengers on board etc., etc. I didn’t understand it then and I really don’t get it now, but Captain Bill made all the calculations and presented the plan to me, on paper, with drawings, arrows, lines of drift, appendices and all sorts of other data. It was impressive.
Time to move closer to our departure point, “the plan” at the ready. We trek westward until we reach the edge of the Bahama Bank where the ocean plummets from depths in the teens to depths in the thousands. We anchor in our usual efficient fashion and settle in for the last night on the bank. I am awakened at 0430 for an on time 0500 departure. Bill has figured that at 5.5 knots, with a projected 2 knot push north by the Gulf Stream that it will take us 11 hours to transit the miles between us and West Palm Beach. We set the autopilot on a course of 239 degrees even though the direct course is at 267 degrees. Aha! We will fool mother nature by heading further south than we want to go so that we end up at our destination, 22 miles to the north. It works! By 1400 hours we are within sight of land -- Florida in our future -- but wait…..we cannot enter the harbor into Lake Worth at 1400 hours. The current coming out the inlet is too strong, over 5 knots. The result of the spring full moon. It will not be at an acceptable level until 1730 at the earliest. What to do? Exercise the wing engine, of course.
And so we do, letting the little-used engine rev and stretch while we roll about off the coast. It’s time for a short break in the mission and a crew debriefing. There is a ton of information to be reviewed, remembered, recorded and retold. Some highlights for the Captain include the small, sparrow-like bird that entered the pilothouse one morning as we cruised the open seas. The little one rested his wings for a few moments, perched on the compass, while observing Bill at the helm. Refreshed, he flew back out the door, leaving an astonished Bill in his wake. Another special day brought six black fin tuna to our freezer via trolling lines in the cockpit. These guys are fighters, and more than one escaped, taking a “Tuna Treat” or “Dolphin Delight” lure with them. Then there was the day of the waterspouts! Oh, my. You don’t want to get anywhere near one of these destructively awesome displays of nature. Even from several miles away, the volume of water that is sucked up into the funnel is visible as it churns into the clouds. In one day we saw three spouts, and that was enough to last us for quite a long while, thank you.
From my perspective, the precision of the daily operation of Let’s Dance created a sense of order and routine that was both comforting and seductive. It is easy to fall into the lullaby created by the waves, the background hum of the big diesel engine and the variety of music playing at all hours. Given the aquatic backdrop, it’s natural to conjure stories of fanciful encounters with all manner of creatures -- flying fish, sea biscuits, starfish, pelicans, iguanas, wild pigs, jellyfish and dolphin, to name but a few. There are still tales to be told! In direct opposition to the lulling regimen of life at sea are the “wheeeee” moments. These occur with infrequency when we encounter mother nature in a snit. Transiting the cuts from the Sea of Abaco into the Atlantic Ocean can provide such a moment. We watch the weather always, and heed reports from other mariners, but sometimes you just gotta go. Waves in the 5 to 6 foot range can cause havoc on Let’s Dance when they smack us on the beam. The sturdy trawler has no issues, but the crew has to sit and hold on, or crab crawl to a more stable location. Likewise, dipping and rising into oncoming seas brings salty spray over the bow and onto the windshield. It’s a marine rollercoaster, well worthy of squeals of “wheeeee” and gulps of “yikes.”
Next time, we will try to summarize our adventures in a “by the numbers” style recount. But for now, we are safely home on Daufuskie Island, relishing the remembered wonders of nature that we shared aboard Let’s Dance. Here’s a small selection of the abundant natural beauty we captured..….deserted beaches, sunsets and moon rises, breaking waves, coral reefs, sandy inlets and open, endless seas.
Bahama Beaches and Sunsets. Click Here!
Time to move closer to our departure point, “the plan” at the ready. We trek westward until we reach the edge of the Bahama Bank where the ocean plummets from depths in the teens to depths in the thousands. We anchor in our usual efficient fashion and settle in for the last night on the bank. I am awakened at 0430 for an on time 0500 departure. Bill has figured that at 5.5 knots, with a projected 2 knot push north by the Gulf Stream that it will take us 11 hours to transit the miles between us and West Palm Beach. We set the autopilot on a course of 239 degrees even though the direct course is at 267 degrees. Aha! We will fool mother nature by heading further south than we want to go so that we end up at our destination, 22 miles to the north. It works! By 1400 hours we are within sight of land -- Florida in our future -- but wait…..we cannot enter the harbor into Lake Worth at 1400 hours. The current coming out the inlet is too strong, over 5 knots. The result of the spring full moon. It will not be at an acceptable level until 1730 at the earliest. What to do? Exercise the wing engine, of course.
And so we do, letting the little-used engine rev and stretch while we roll about off the coast. It’s time for a short break in the mission and a crew debriefing. There is a ton of information to be reviewed, remembered, recorded and retold. Some highlights for the Captain include the small, sparrow-like bird that entered the pilothouse one morning as we cruised the open seas. The little one rested his wings for a few moments, perched on the compass, while observing Bill at the helm. Refreshed, he flew back out the door, leaving an astonished Bill in his wake. Another special day brought six black fin tuna to our freezer via trolling lines in the cockpit. These guys are fighters, and more than one escaped, taking a “Tuna Treat” or “Dolphin Delight” lure with them. Then there was the day of the waterspouts! Oh, my. You don’t want to get anywhere near one of these destructively awesome displays of nature. Even from several miles away, the volume of water that is sucked up into the funnel is visible as it churns into the clouds. In one day we saw three spouts, and that was enough to last us for quite a long while, thank you.
From my perspective, the precision of the daily operation of Let’s Dance created a sense of order and routine that was both comforting and seductive. It is easy to fall into the lullaby created by the waves, the background hum of the big diesel engine and the variety of music playing at all hours. Given the aquatic backdrop, it’s natural to conjure stories of fanciful encounters with all manner of creatures -- flying fish, sea biscuits, starfish, pelicans, iguanas, wild pigs, jellyfish and dolphin, to name but a few. There are still tales to be told! In direct opposition to the lulling regimen of life at sea are the “wheeeee” moments. These occur with infrequency when we encounter mother nature in a snit. Transiting the cuts from the Sea of Abaco into the Atlantic Ocean can provide such a moment. We watch the weather always, and heed reports from other mariners, but sometimes you just gotta go. Waves in the 5 to 6 foot range can cause havoc on Let’s Dance when they smack us on the beam. The sturdy trawler has no issues, but the crew has to sit and hold on, or crab crawl to a more stable location. Likewise, dipping and rising into oncoming seas brings salty spray over the bow and onto the windshield. It’s a marine rollercoaster, well worthy of squeals of “wheeeee” and gulps of “yikes.”
Next time, we will try to summarize our adventures in a “by the numbers” style recount. But for now, we are safely home on Daufuskie Island, relishing the remembered wonders of nature that we shared aboard Let’s Dance. Here’s a small selection of the abundant natural beauty we captured..….deserted beaches, sunsets and moon rises, breaking waves, coral reefs, sandy inlets and open, endless seas.
Bahama Beaches and Sunsets. Click Here!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)