Days
in the Bahamas are as perfect as anywhere on earth. The winter
brings sun-kissed skies and temperatures in the 70s along with the
shorter days. Our passage from Florida was longer this year,
however, because we opted to begin the crossing in North Palm Beach
rather than the closer Miami starting point from years past.
Seventy-eight miles versus sixty-six miles doesn't sound like much of
a difference until you factor in a longer stretch in the
north-rushing Gulf Stream. Twenty-two miles slogging along at less
than 5 knots adds a lot of quality time for the crew of Let's Dance
at the trip's outset.
Crossing
day began with a 6 am call. We chased the rising sun into the
Atlantic and then followed our projected arc with all the precision
of a well-seasoned crew. Current, tide, wind and waves -- all
factored and computed and charted. Predicted wave heights of 3 to 5
feet with 10 second intervals read 'easy sailing' and we were soon in
the thick of the stream. Six and a half knots became five and a
half, became four and then less than four. The hours passed, as did
breakfast, lunch and dinner. As we continued eastward we watched the
sun set behind us over the now invisible Florida coast. Container
ships and tankers became scarcer and the Coast Guard ship practicing
maneuvers eventually called it a day, too. We were alone.
Captain
Bill was due for a much needed break, so I took over at about 1900
hours with instructions to wake him if anything out of the ordinary
came up. Anything at all. After dark the pilothouse of Let's Dance
becomes a command center worthy of an aircraft carrier. Overhead
lights are doused so only the images on the computer screens are
visible. Soft red glows emanate from the floorboard courtesy lights
should you need to move about the cabin.
Darkness
on the open ocean can be mesmerizing and even a little disorienting.
I settle in the big captain's chair and begin my solitary watch.
Directly in my line of vision there are two Furuno radar screens,
monitors for speed, water depth, trip mileage, wind speed and
direction and, naturally, our computerized navigation system. From
the large Dell computer screen, I can follow our route and check for
any other ships in the area who are transmitting their position via
AIS. The radar screens are set -- one scanning a range out to three
miles and one encompassing an area 8 miles in diameter. (The trick
here, of course, is to spot intruders before they get inside our
three mile "circle of friendship.")
Did
I mention that it is now dark? In the midst of the Atlantic, between
Florida and Bimini, there are no lights. None. We have illuminated
our running lights so that Let's Dance can be seen by others -- red
on our port side and green on the starboard -- standard for all
watercraft and a dandy way to tell in which direction a boat is
moving when it is pitch dark outside. (Hint: observing both red and
green lights on another ship indicates it is coming directly at you
and is to be avoided at all costs.) So, I settle into the captain's
chair, comfy and ready to catch any unwitting strangers who wander
into our radar trap.
Before
long a faint blip of orange begins to flicker on the edge of the 8
mile radar screen. I note it and continue to scan the horizon. It
grows clearer and soon I can even see small lights in the distance
with my naked eye. It must be pretty big if I can see it almost 8
miles away. I watch it carefully, checking the monitors for helpful
information. The AIS soon identifies her as the "Paul
Oldenfield", a tanker making 12 knots and headed for Savannah!
She continues to grow in front of me and I continue to stare at her
radar image like I think she would care that we are in her path.
When she registers six miles out I go below and wake up Captain Bill.
See, I am teachable! He is instantly alert and in the pilothouse
with me. He checks the radar, the projected path of the tanker, the
calculated "CPA" and "TCPA". (Code for 'closet
point of approach' and 'time of CPA.') Given her speed and
trajectory (and ours), we will pass within two miles of each other in
23 minutes. That's fast! We continue to watch her to make sure she
doesn't try to pull a fast one and change course on us, but she
benignly motors north, staying safely in her lane. A good thing for
Let's Dance, for sure!
We
reached our destination, an anchorage just off the west coast of
North Bimini, a few hours later and snuggled in for the night. Our
second day was spent crossing the Great Bahama Bank and, as in years
past, we anchored in about 20 feet of water in the exact middle of
nowhere. Day three found us back at Morgan's Bluff, Andros Island
where Bill took the Love MeTender in to clear us through customs. It
only took three hours at Willy's Bar, Pool Room and Immigration
Service for Bill to score a three month permit to cruise the Bahamas.
Good work, Captain Bill! Now we can lower the yellow "Quarantine"
flag and hoist the Bahama "Courtesy" flag. We are good to
go!
Because
of shifting weather patterns, we spend two nights in the anchorage at
Morgan's Bluff. The tiny settlement has not fared too well in recent
years. There is a long concrete dock in the outer harbor where
tankers come in to load on fresh water for the outer islands. Now a
few men fish with hand lines off the old dock and a wrecked boat is
tied off at one end of it. The sandy shore at the back of the harbor
holds two more wrecks that look like they have been there for years.
Once again, we are the only boat in the harbor, but the "Ocean
Energy", a container ship, came by the second afternoon,
bringing supplies to the tiny outpost.
Though
Andros appeared to have left progress behind, New Providence (aka
Nassau), our next overnight, was bustling. We dropped our hook in
about 9 feet of calm, clear water in West Bay, within sight of spiffy
Lyford Cay and its funky jungle themed adventure park. What a sight
at night -- purple and red and yellow lit palm trees and huts and
slides -- everything we seek to avoid on our nautical adventures.
There is, indeed, something for everyone in this world!
We're
well into day six of the 2013 adventure now and almost to the
northernmost Exuma islands -- ready for some fun in the sun -- and
hopefully no more (nautical) night moves.
Let's
Dance.....Carol and Bill
