Homeward Bound

Almost there! After 10 days en route, we spent our last night on the Great Bahama Bank before crossing the Gulf Stream and entering US waters. Tiny Isaac Island provided the comfort of a lee anchorage for our final night at sea. It is a deserted atoll at the western edge of the shallow bank where it gives way to the much deeper Atlantic Ocean. There is a lighthouse on the rocky point, with a scattering of little pink houses abandoned by long forgotten lighthouse keepers. Weathered and roofless, the stucco cottages and out-buildings stand silent sentinel around the old warning light. 

We arrived before dusk and were rewarded with another golden sunset while we had cocktails on the flybridge. Calm waters and light winds made the last day at anchor very soothing. Now back in satellite TV range, we watched a little news and Jeopardy, played a few hands of gin, turned in early. About 0500 hours, I woke up and checked out the stars. Yep! Still there and still spectacular. Wish we could install a skylight in the master stateroom. Bill was already awake and we made our way up to the deck, turning out the anchor light on the way. Wow! No people, no lights, no sounds except waves lapping onto shore and against the sides of the boat. Just stars, just beautiful.

Morning call came early. The big crossing ahead, we are alert and eager, prepped and ready. First chore...anchor up. We had out over 250 feet of chain since we had anchored in deep water, so the coming up was slower than usual. The Captain raised about 50 feet, where the friendly snubber was attached, when he called out to me to come forward and check out something. Curious, I did, and discovered that an unfortunate amberjack was hanging off the snubber line, hooked and twisted around the anchor chain. Oh, dear! He apparently fell victim to the lure that Bill left out the night before and got hung up in the anchor rode. Poor guy -- he was freed and left to the deep. Anchoring up completed, we were underway at 0650 hours.

We are flying! Over 10 knots through the Gulf Stream with seas calm enough that Bill chooses to polish some of the stainless railings on the foredeck while we motor on. At 46 miles into the journey we are greeted by a pair of bottlenose dolphins -- there to lead us home. As we watch from the bow pulpit they dive and cavort in over 3,000 feet of water. Quite a change from the meager 10 feet that the TCI dolphins had for their acrobatics! At 49 miles into the trip it's "Florida, ho!" The Palm Beach skyline is distant, but discernible and the conclusion of the winter of 2012 voyage is almost upon us.

With only a few hours left of the passage to and from the Turks & Caicos, it is time to reflect on the 2012 TWL's (Things We've Learned). First, we learned that it is possible for a retired stockbroker to squeeze into an amazingly small space to repair the stabilizers that keep us upright and happy, perform numerous oil and filter changes on both engines and the generator, pound the stripper arm on the windlass into submission and maintain his sense of humor in the face of it all.

We also learned that I, retired from multiple careers, can also squeeze into an amazingly small space to repair the stabilizers, prepare an edible meal for two while braced against the Sub Zero in the galley in 7 foot seas, and survive for over 90 days in captivity (often maintaining my sense of humor) with the irrepressible Captain Bill.

So, after about 71 nights at anchor, 10 nights in marinas, 2,600 nautical miles and countless pages written and read, we are home. Future voyages are still in the early planning stages, but, as the world is now our oyster, the possibilities are vast. For now, thanks for sharing in the fun and foibles aboard 

Let's Dance....Carol and Bill

Mission Critical

Captain Bill and I have been cruisers for almost two years now and we have absorbed quite a lot of information: about seamanship, navigation, meteorology, mechanics, etc. Most of our new-found knowledge is elementary, some graduate level, some very arcane. This we know for certain: travel aboard the trawler Let's Dance consists of

a) endless weeks of soothing, seductive sailing through awesomely beautiful scenery,

b) frequent moments of exhilarating glee, and c) rare spikes of brain numbing terror.

We've shared with you the scenery and some of the childlike joy that comes from flying fish and glow worms and green flashes. We've even let you in on the lengths to which we will go to entertain ourselves on long, boring passages. Now for part three of the equation to trawler life!

We are on the way home!! We succeeded in reaching the Turks and Caicos. We have had a wonderful run of great weather and good fishing. Guests have come and gone, a fine time had by all. Let's Dance is in prime shape and we are well provisioned for the trip back to the States. It should take about 10 days. Days one, two and three are almost flawless as we retrace our route back past Mayaguana, the Acklins and the Crookeds. On day four, however, leaving our Landrail Settlement anchorage at the north end of Crooked Island, the forecast is for higher wind and sea conditions. 0830 hours and the anchor is up...we're off! Two foot seas and winds at 10 knots from the southeast. Not a bad start to the day. By 0930 hours the seas have jumped to about 6 feet high with a 7 or 8 second interval. Still not too rough...it is a Nordhavn after all! The cabin is secured, with all drawers and cabinets and the fridge locked securely. At the helm, Bill tests the Clinometer app on the iphone to check the degree of our side to side roll -- 5 to 7 degrees each way. Interesting to note.

Let's Dance is equipped with state of the art Trac stabilizers whose sole responsibility it is to keep our ride smooth and pleasant in any kind of seas. These "fins" are like giant, flat paddles on either side of the keel and they push water to and fro to add stability to the potentially unpleasant side to side motion that power boats can experience. Hydraulic fluid is pumped through the hearty Lugger engine into a loop with the fins. They can be adjusted to varying sea conditions and they are a joy to experience. They are, in my opinion, mission critical.

At noon on day four, during the routine hourly engine room check, the Captain discovers a small leak of hydraulic fluid from the port stabilizer. Not good, but manageable. Fifteen minutes later he returns to the engine room for a quick look to discover that the seal on the port stabilizer has failed completely and the starboard one is leaking. Five gallons of blue hydraulic fluid now coats the bases of the mechanisms that keep us, literally, on an even keel and is running into the bilge below. Oh, no! He yells up to me to kill the electrical breaker for the stabilizers and I do, pronto. This is (expletive deleted) bad and the sea state is now closer to eight feet than the earlier six.

With the fins deactivated, the open ocean is free to have her way with us. And she does. We are immediately impacted by the 8 foot beam seas and Let's Dance starts moving to a playlist of rock 'n roll standards.....Twist and Shout, The Swim, The Jerk, Rockin' Robin.....Even the locked cabinets are feeling the impact of loose dishes, pots and pans and utensils. Nothing breaks loose, but the clatter is unnerving. Spice jars click against each other, magazines slide from port to starboard, wooden blinds slap against the windows. Bill is calm at the helm but I am quivering behind him on the settee, clutching the table in front of me with a death grip.

The trusty Clinometer confirms that we are all atilt as it registers a 38 degree roll to port, back to zero and over to 30 degrees to starboard. Do not try this at home! We are half way to nowhere and there is only one thing to do -- phone a friend!

Friend James Knight

Bill gets on the sat phone and dials Nordhavn expert James Knight in Florida, explains the situation and learns that we can still run the main engine for an hour or two without hydraulic fluid. He comforts me with the fact that there is no way we can turn over. Good to know, James. So we muddle on for 14 miles to the Clarence Town settlement on Long Island in the lower Bahamas, and shut her down. We begin to breathe again after almost two hours of rockin' to the oldies. Whew!!!

Day five consists of a quick dinghy ride into 'town' for cell phone minutes and 32 weight hydraulic fluid. Minutes are easy, fluid not so much. There is none on the island and the nearest source is Nassau. OK, then. That's what we'll do...order it from Nassau. But no, actually, the ferry from Nassau comes five days from now, on Wednesdays (or Thursdays) usually, but lately it hasn't been coming at all. Hmmmmm. Let the phone calls begin!

James contacts the Trac stabilizer folks and learns that we can substitute the 68 weight fluid that we have on board for the 32 but it will slow down the fins action. OK, slow fins are better than no fins. First, however, the errant port stabilizer must be taken apart and rebuilt. We have the manual but it is full of phrases like "slide the locking plate tongue into the yoke clevis and align the Locking Plate Flange with its dowel pins and mounting holes." Help!

Captain Bill dons his virtual coveralls and jumps into his new role as Chief Engineer. A pattern quickly develops....call to James for step one, follow instructions to the letter, report back. Call to James for step two, etc. Fourteen short phone calls and 8 long hours later, the offending stabilizer has been dismantled and the root of the problem uncovered. In between, terms like bushing, actuator, flange, punch, torque, allen wrench, top plate, and a whole raft of unmentionables, are uttered. Bill and I take turns crawling into the tight space that houses the mechanism, and with the help of a tiny flashlight and a mirror on a long handle, are able to finally make the adjustments that James has ordered. 

 

We are greasy and smelly and tired, but have achieved success in tightening the loose joint that allowed the hydraulic fluid to spew out. Now to replace the fluid. We do, with a 5 gallon drum of 68 weight hydraulic fluid, two funnels, a plastic kitchen pitcher and a lot of paper towels. Time for a break for the crew.

We still have a lot of miles and days to travel before we reach Florida, so our fingers are tightly crossed and the sea gods intoned as we anchor up on day six. Hourly engine room checks become quarter hourly and only a tiny bit of fluid leaks out. The seas are calmer each day and we are encouraged to motor on. Days seven through nine see us anchoring in familiar bays as we travel north and west....Calabash, Big Majors, Highbourne...and still the stabilizers purr along quietly and efficiently. I think Bill shows a lot of potential, mechanically speaking.

Night ten finds us back at the Tongue of the Ocean -- we put the hook down in 20 feet of water about two miles off the established "route" to avoid any possible overnight traffic. It was, as anticipated, a study in serenity. Another gorgeous sunset and, with stabilizers brought back up to snuff, we are confident of a smooth, uneventful ride across the Gulf Stream and home. All is well aboard

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

Beautiful By Nature

The national slogan of the Turks and Caicos Islands is "Beautiful By Nature" and we couldn't agree more. The other morning, Captain Bill arose at his usual early hour to discover a new passenger aboard Let's Dance! Perched majestically on the bow pulpit was a lone great egret....wispy tail feathers blowing loose in the light wind. Wow! We have seen very few birds on this trip, so it was a bit of a surprise.

As Bill went forward to begin the anchor up drill with Paul at the helm (I am once again blissfully redundant!) our hitch hiking friend flew up to the aft deck to wait it out on the Love Me Tender. Smart bird. Once Bill was back inside the pilot house the egret flew back down to the pulpit and faced into the wind -- ready to go for a ride. We had been anchored off deserted Six Hills Cay, about 20 miles from Grand Turk Island, when he joined us and we were all quite curious to know his plans.

The seas were very calm this day and the winds light, so our snowy friend had only to make minor adjustments to his position to stay facing into the wind. He stayed, and stayed and stayed. We ventured out from time to time to take his picture and he responded by giving us the eye or ducking his long neck into his breast. At the 20 mile mark into the day he must have gotten foot cramps from holding on so tightly to the stainless steel railing because he lifted each foot in turn, stretched his black taloned toes and then repeated with the other foot. This guy has some seriously ugly feet by the way.

The now familiar 'zing' signaling a fish on the hook was heard often this day as well. The first catch of the day was a hefty 10 pound mutton snapper, reeled in by Paul with a little help from the Captain. Mutton snapper, aka Lutjanus analis, Reef King or Pargo, does not resemble its sheepish namesake, but it is absolutely delicious and prized for its firm white meat. A fine fresh dinner is assured. We are also a strong magnet for barracuda. The guys must have pulled in half a dozen of them in all sizes throughout the day.

The beautiful, calm seas continued into the afternoon when I sighted a group of bottlenose dolphin rising about a quarter of a mile ahead of us. They noticed us about the same time and came running to join the dance. Soon we were surrounded by about seven playful swimmers, eager to twirl under our bow as we raced through the flat, flat, shallow seas. Naturally, we had to watch their acrobatics from the bow pulpit, and we scared off the egret hitchhiker in our rush to watch the fun. With only about 3 to 4 feet of water under our keel we were able to marvel not only at the dolphins, but also at the constellations of starfish that they leapt over. Amazing! 

 

We were lucky, too, to be anchored in Sapodilla Bay for the rare occurrence of glow worm mating. Seriously! From three to six days after a full moon, in the spring, at dusk, the little glitterers swim about looking for love. Bill, Paul and I watched the sunset from the flybridge in a light wind. They both gave up and went below as darkness fell and I got a tad discouraged, too. Then, a call came over the VHF that the show was on! Sure enough, in the darkened water of the bay, little streamers of neon green darted here and there and everywhere -- so romantic!

From tiny glow worms to giant whales, TCI did not disappoint. We spent a leisurely day trolling the waters between Grand Turk, Salt Cay and Sand Cay in search of the big guys. Humpback whales migrate through this area in March and April and it didn't take long for us to have our first sighting. Paul spotted a single spout and we gave chase (of course, at six knots, the whale was in little danger of our swift approach!) Soon we saw other spouts and the cry of "thar she blows" rang out! Tails flashed through the air as they slapped the sea's surface again and again. It was very cool! Some blew, some breached, some splashed...it was all quite spectacular. We stayed a respectful distance from the great creatures, both for their safety and for our own. Can you imagine a confrontation between 40 tons of Let's Dance and 40 tons of humpback whale? It does not bear contemplation.

From ocean depths to endless skies, natural beauty is everywhere. When the sun is just so over the water, and it often is, the bottoms of the clouds shimmer with a soft, minty green hue. It is a reflection of the emerald water and lovely to behold.

Beautiful By Nature, indeed. TCI did not disappoint. Captain Bill, First Officer Paul and I shared a very rewarding journey on this aquatic nature trail aboard our trusty trawler....

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