The Road to Mayaguana

As boaters, if not as individuals, we are obsessively goal oriented. Last winter we realized our objective by motoring to, and returning from, the Bahamas. Our plan for the winter of 2012 was to continue past that now familiar island chain and continue in a lazy southerly crawl across the Tropic of Cancer into the crystalline waters of the Turks and Caicos Islands.

We left the relative bustle of George Town for the more remote Calabash Bay on nearby Gaillot Cay. This wide, crescent shaped bay is perched on the northernmost tip of Long Island (not to be confused with the one in NY, of course.) It is shallow and deceptively flat, as surge from the nearby ocean side rips around the edge of the island to create long swells. The anchorage is solitary, and the side to side sway of Let's Dance is lulling to the senses. We depart early the next morning and are gleefully escorted out of the bay by a pod (herd? bevy? posse?) of dolphin. They love playing in the wake created by the bow of the ship and we never tire of watching their fun.

Day two takes us fifty-eight nautical miles, down the eastern shore of Long Island to an even more remote anchorage named Little Harbor. The first hours of the passage, as we rounded the top of the island, were pretty rough and I chewed a Bonine to ward off the potential of sea sickness. We are not sure if this OTC medication is pronounced "Bo-neen" or "Bo-nine", but one day last year when I was at the helm in especially rough seas, Bill came up the stairs from the staterooms and very thoughtfully asked if he could bring me up a "bovine." Holy cow! Are there cattle in the hold?

Naturally, fishing lines were deployed, and this day, we prevail. A spectacular dolphin fish, or mahi mahi, could not resist the brightly hued green and black "Flash Dancer." The hook, hidden in the Dancer trailed about 8 feet behind the attractor, a glossy orange and black bird. It was just too delicious for him to pass up.

 So, our lead increases in the Captain Bill vs. fish competition. This tummy pleaser weighed in at 25 pounds with a length of 52 inches! Bravo, Bill! Fresh fish on our menu tonight!

We arrived at Little Harbor at 1610 hours and dropped our anchor in the completely empty bay. Alone again! Perfect! But not for long, of course. We were soon joined by "Twilight" and "Karma" and, finally, last to arrive, "Tangueray." Two sail boats and a Grand Banks trawler. They all knew each other and visited both over the radio and by dinghy. The trawler guy took his dinghy out for a quick ride to the other end of the bay and as he zoomed back to "Twilight" he was catapulted off the little boat into the water! Ouch! The dinghy's engine did not quit and it spun in dizzying circles as the young rider quickly swam away from it. The Love Me Tender was secured in her usual spot on the upper aft deck, so we were powerless to help, but "Karma" raced to the scene. Soon the jilted seaman and "Karma's" captain were able to stop the engine and the day was saved. A real rescue at sea!

The following day we added another 57 miles to the odometer and settled into a day on the open ocean. We truly were on our own as we continued south....the only sighting of another boat was of the "Chiquita Bremen", a massive 512 foot container ship with a beam of 72 feet and a 26 foot draft. That's a lot of bananas! Her closet point of approach, which we can calculate with our snazzy AIS system, was 1.3 nautical miles. That is plenty close for us, but she probably would have liked a closer look at our dance card.

Now we have reached the Acklins Group -- perhaps you've heard of them? Crooked Island, Long Cay, Fish Cay and Guana Cay make up this virtually uninhabited chain of islets at the bottom of the Bahamas. The government ferry comes twice a week and if you need propane you can send your tank on the mailboat to Nassau and it will be returned to you in a week. Island time. Flamingos abound in the inner flats and the bonefishing is said to be stellar. We stop for the night at yet another gloriously vacant harbor -- this one named Attwood Harbour on Lady Slipper Cay. A thin white sand ring defined the edge of the anchorage -- clear water, light wind, sunset coming soon. Drinks and snacks on the flybridge, another day well spent.

Next stop is the ever popular Abraham's Bay on Mayaguana Island. Here is some "Need-to-Know" information from the chart book:

Banks: None on island

Churches: Baptist and Jehovah's Witness

Dinghy landing: Government dock - very shallow, channel marked with sticks

Laundry: Inquire locally for hand washing

Marina: None on island

Medical Services: Government clinic with 24 hour nurse. Doctor lives on Inagua

Police: VHF 16 BOYS IN BLUE

We are on a mission to reach the Turks and Caicos ahead of a weather front, so there is no time to explore this southernmost Bahamian island. Maybe on the way back; maybe not. It is a wonderful anchorage, though, reef protected, with light winds and bright stars. We leave refreshed for the final leg of the journey as we depart to a sunrise to remember. The ocean is deep through the Caicos Passage, and the color of India ink. Deep, deep blue/black and, astonishingly calm.

The road to Mayaguana......another tale of life on the high seas. Hope you find your own iguana.

Let's Dance....Carol and Bill

Victory at Sea

Captain Bill and I, Let's Dance, the Love Me Tender, and even our sometimes recalcitrant generator, have settled into a rather monotonous daily routine as we proceed down our southerly path. Daily, we rise, check in with Morning Joe and Imus, sip black coffee, check the weather and the local "Cruiser's Net" chat, rev up the hearty 175 hp Lugger engine, raise the anchor and, charted route activated, set off to another beachy destination.

Afternoons, we anchor, record the day's stats for posterity, launch the tender, read or watch a little TV, and settle in to admire the 360 degree water views. Later, the generator gets exercised for a few hours, producing enough power to see us through another night. We catch the evening news, maybe a Jeopardy episode to keep our brains from complete atrophy. Very peaceful and hypnotic, these little daily rituals.

But then, we begin to experience a gradual erosion of the structure we've created. First, the satellite TV signal weakens and the lower numbered channels disappear. Somehow, all that we can access is the Golf Channel. Hmmmm. Only golf? Bill is thrilled to have this continued diversion, but soon our decreasing latitude makes even this powerful channel fade to nothing. We are without media! No national news, no national weather, no Jeopardy!

For entertainment, we shall have to look to ourselves! Can we do it? Yes, we are up to the task! I find a single deck of cards, slightly sticky from the salt air, and we consider our options. We decide on a Bahamian-style Gin Tournament -- thusly named because neither of us remembers the actual rules, so there will be regional interpretations.

Let the games begin! I am the first victor, although my gloating is short lived as the Captain quickly catches the fever and trounces me repeatedly. Sigh. We have created a monster and its name is "Gin". Luckily for us, friends Denise and Bernie soon arrive in George Town to divert us from our 52 card mania.

George Town, Great Exuma Island, is THE boater's mecca in the Bahamas. There are conservatively 250 boats anchored here in a huge, quiet bay. George Town proper sits on the western side of the bay and, to the east lie Monument Bay, Volleyball Beach and Sand Dollar Beach. A local "Cruiser's Net" is broadcast daily over the VHF radio system, alerting all to the scope of available activities. You just would not believe it! Volleyball Beach is home to (in no particular order) yoga classes, Bible study, bocce, garden club, beach golf, dominos, regatta committee meetings, horseshoes and of course, volleyball. These boaters are serious about their fun. Rockin' Ronnie and Cool Karen provide music for the weekly dances and the Kalik consumption is world class.

Announcements from cruisers are encouraged on the daily "net", and we have been offered online a bubbly, active sourdough starter, shared taxi rides to the airport, information on cruising to Cuba, a found single sandal, a spare hand held radio and "drive-by carry out." What is that? There is also the need for someone to repair a rip in a dodger, the loan of a circular saw and algae-free jerry cans for water. The list goes on and on. New arrivals are encouraged to announce themselves and departing vessels are bid adieu. George Town is small town America, alive and well, afloat in the Bahamas.

Our first full day with Denise and Bernie was spent at anchor a few miles south of Volleyball Beach. The winds were fierce, so we decided to rough it by spending an entire day reading, eating and, guess what? Playing cards! With four aboard, the game changed from Bahamian-style Gin to Exuma Hearts. None of us could recall the rules to this game either, so we improvised. Apparently my improvisational skills are not as highly developed as the others' because I am soon way ahead, or behind, depending on how you score. We had fun, though, and it was a relaxing way to drift through an afternoon.

The next morning, with Bernie at my usual post and wearing my crew com headset, we prepare to raise the anchor. The links of the rode are not responding well to being drawn in and they choose to twist and turn instead of meekly going back through the stripper arm and into the anchor locker. Something is amiss here. The screeching noise is but one clue. So, we do what we always do. We stop, ponder the situation, choose a course of action and solve the problem. In this case, the solution involves a vise, assorted wrenches, channel pliers and creativity. Once the errant arm is removed from the windlass, Bill and Bernie take turns beating it with a hammer until it regains its former, straight metal shape. A scant two hours later and we're back in business!

The winds are much calmer today, so Captain Bill, with Bernie as crew, and the newly straightened stripper arm, bring us back to the heart of George Town. We climbed aboard the Love Me Tender and motored in to explore Monument Bay. The monument in question was erected to celebrate the landing of Christopher Columbus (this guy, like George Washington, was everywhere!) and the short walk up the scrubby hill provided a 360 degree view of the Atlantic, Stocking Island, the bay chock full of sailboats, and Great Exuma Island. Wow! We scooted down the sandy path on the other side of the hill to the ocean and had a wonderful walk on the deserted, oceanside beach. This perfect day ended with another round of Exuma Hearts, some great music and, yes, even a little dancing!

But the piece de resistance of this tiny island community is undoubtedly the "Chat and Chill". This cottage on stilts is decorated with used, autographed T'shirts from all over the world, business cards stapled to the walls, graffiti on every flat surface and a very accommodating bar tender named Kendall. We tried our hands at dominoes, but again, rules eluded us so we ended up building tiny castles of tiles as high as possible until they tumbled down onto the scarred table top.

Our wonderful visit with the Mansheims came to an end and the 'last chance' scores in Exuma Hearts were 56, 105, 98 and 87. I'm not going to tell who was the victor at sea! What happens on Let's Dance, etc., etc. We are all winners aboard this fine ship.......

Let's Dance.....Carol and Bill

The Deep

On Tuesday, January 24, 2012, at exactly 0907 hours, Carol and the Captain officially went over the edge. You may believe that this happened some years ago, but no. This is how it went:

The route from Florida to Cat Cay took us across the Straits of Florida, a 60 mile ride through the Gulf stream in water that ranged from 150 to over 900 feet deep. Let's Dance flew over the ocean, scaring up the occasional fleet of flying fish along the way and playing tag with a few dolphin friends, too. Bill put out the fishing lines and soon the 'zing' cry of "fish on" rang out! Several hours later, with Cat Cay in sight, and much shallower waters ahead, it was time to bring in the lines. Final score: Captain Bill - 0; Fish - 2! Lures, that is.

Cat Cay is "private" and mariners are cautioned to avoid anchoring at the end of the little runway that dissects the island. Smart! One plane did, in fact, land while we floated nearby. This tiny dot in the ocean lies just south of Bimini at the western edge of the Great Bahama Bank. The ocean here can only boast depths of 10 to about 30 feet -- a far cry from what we just crossed. A real plus for us to this shallow water is that tankers, cargo ships and especially cruise ships draw too much water to get in our way. The 60 mile passage east across the Bank was very, very quiet. We were en route for 7 hours before encountering even one other boat, and it was over 4 miles off our port side. Talk about a lonely planet! 

 

Our anchorage that night, in 20 feet of water, was beyond amazing -- just us and the stars. I know the dippers and Orion's belt, but that's about the extent of my astrological acumen. Even with no savvy at all, however, the clear night sky, 60 miles from the nearest manmade light, was beyond breath-taking. Our lonely anchor light must have looked pretty insignificant in the vastness of the ocean around us.

The next leg of the journey, south and east to Andros Island, took us into the Northwest Channel. Let's Dance boasts two depth finders, or transducers, that measure the "DBK" or depth below the keel, a number of great significance in these shallow Bahamian waters. We left our solitary anchorage, noting that we still had 14 feet DBK. Then, suddenly, within minutes, there was no depth reading -- at all. On any of the three dials that reliably report this data. Just dotted lines where once there were numbers. We have, it seems, fallen off the edge of the world, and into the "Tongue of the Ocean."

The trusty depth finders bounced from simple dotted lines signifying nothing to readings around 2,612 feet, back to nothing then to 3,346 feet and so on for hours. The "Tongue of the Ocean" is a deep, deep trough that runs between Andros Island to the west and the Exumas to the east. At it's deepest, it measures over 8,400 feet below the sea's surface. Nothing down there for the transducers to bounce off. Submarines and other US Navy vessels use the area to practice their moves -- we looked and looked and looked for signs of rising submarines to no avail. They must have spotted us from the watery depths below and stayed down -- guess we wowed them with our dance moves!

By the time we arrived in the Exumas, it had been about ten days since I last had land underfoot and I was itchy to stretch my legs. Bill went ashore in the Love Me Tender at Morgan's Bluff, Andros, to clear us through customs. Only the captain is allowed to leave the ship for this process. He shared a few Kalik's with the locals at Willie's Bar while waiting for the customs rep to drive over from the airport. Very efficient system, Bahamas! One stop beer and national security.

Safely across the "Tongue", we anchored off Norman's Cay, a familiar stop from last winter. Tender launched, we motored up to the beach, anticipating a long walk and a tasty lunch. As we got closer to shore, I moved to the front of the Love Me Tender, prepared to step into the water and hold her steady until Bill could raise the motor and get out to tie her up to a nearby tree. So, I perch on the bow, watching the water get more and more shallow -- I can see individual grains of sand and tiny bits of coral quite clearly. I wait and wait and then put my feet over the bow and into the cool water. We are just about two feet from the shore. Instead of asking Bill for a DBK reading, I use my own judgment. There appears to be about 8 inches of water, so I begin to slide over only to find no purchase below! There is no stopping my downward momentum now, however, and I am immediately up to my waist in salt water! It's cold! And I'm soaked and there is no option but to walk the short distance to McDuff's, the restaurant, wet from the waist down, ask for a table and air dry. Luckily for me, this is the kind of dive where no one would notice, or comment on, one's state of deshabillement.

After a mediocre lunch of burger and fries (not found on the menu of Let's Dance), we walked across the airstrip to the other side of the island where a failed landing attempt in the drug smuggling days of the 70's left a rather large airplane in the middle of the bay. Not a pretty sight. With my shorts now dry, we ambled back to the Love Me Tender to find her high and dry as well. The tide has receded, and she is hard aground! We can't lift her so the only option is to wait for the tide to return enough to get her afloat. 

 

This day, and every day, there are lessons to be learned and laughter to be shared.

Let's Dance.....Carol and Bill