Scuba and Snorkel – Pelagic Explorers

January 20, 2020January 20, 2020

Way Down We Go…

These events took place in March 2019.

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We were off to George Town on Great Exuma. We weren’t sure if we were going to love or hate George Town. It’s a famous cruiser gathering spot – with up to 300 boats during regatta time. We purposely planned our arrival for after regatta and felt pretty good about that decision after our friends described the social drama as “70 year olds acting like they are still in high school.” But other friends told us that they never got bored when they spent several weeks there last year, so we were trying to keep an open mind.

It was a decent day for sailing, with some swell but at an angle that wasn’t too bothersome. We would have sailed nearly the whole way, except we’d put in a bad coordinate and already had the sail down by the time we realized we had at least another hour until the inlet. Having already tidied the lines and sail bags, we were too lazy to raise sails again.

Approaching all the boats in the harbour felt as overwhelming as walking up to New York City after a month alone in the woods. Immediately we saw boats we knew – Cohort, One-O-Six, Holiday, Sklibadnir, other boats from our marina in Florida, and boats we recognized from Instagram.

Elizabeth Harbour – the most boats we’ve anchored with since…. ever.

Adastra (aka the spaceship), the most unusual boat in the harbour

Most boats hang out closer to Stocking Island, across the harbor from George Town. Hungry for dinner, we went ashore on Stocking. Despite the presence of 1000 people on boats and multiple boutique hotels and restaurants, there is nothing open for dinner on a Thursday night. So back into the dinghy we went and over to town. We found Eddie’s. Even though we said over and over how we were sick of fried Bahamian food, this place made us like it again with tasty fried seafood, huge portions, good prices, and working A/C in the dining room.

Our time in George Town was filled with the usual tasks of any visit to a population center (population: 1500 + boaters) – grocery shopping, water fillups (free here, unlike other places), Paul’s haircut, laundry.

Throw your trash in the back, throw disposal fee money in the front window

Doc the bartender at Peace & Plenty – he’s worked there for decades

But we soon discovered something very special here to occupy our time: the blue holes. Mystery Cave is a popular snorkeling spot in Stocking Island’s protected mooring hole. But I saw on the charts that there was a second blue hole (underwater sink hole or cave) marked near the mooring balls. We went for a snorkel to assess the caves for possible scuba diving. Mystery Cave was full of fish due to tourists feeding them but the entrance to the other hole, Angelfish Blue Hole, was about 30-40 feet underwater and didn’t look like much while we were snorkeling. This was going to be our first time getting the scuba gear out this year, and I was a bit nervous about having our first dive be in the overhead environment of Mystery Cave. Angelfish, on the other hand, went nearly straight down. This seemed like a safer “warm up” so I talked Paul into starting there. I did my research on the holes – to dive them, you must go on a falling tide when the current is flowing out of the hole and not sucking you in. We picked a time to check them out the next day.

Arriving at Angelfish, we saw the local dive boat offloading people into the water. That was great confirmation that my research on the safe time to dive was accurate! We anchored the dinghy, strapped on our gear, and plunged into the water. We followed the dive group down and Paul moved ahead of the pack. I, however, came to a near stop at 60 feet down. The cave narrowed a bit here and the force of the outflowing water seemed stronger. My BCD (the inflatable diving vest) wasn’t strapped tightly enough to me and the flow of water rushed in between my back and the vest, pulling me backwards. I pinned myself to a rock on the side and signaled to Paul that I was having trouble descending and we headed back up. I adjusted the straps, but having already used some of our air, we decide not to head back down the blue hole. Instead we headed over to the Mystery Cave entrance and used up our air hanging out with all the fish at only about 12 feet under water.

The next day we tried the blue hole again. We had it to ourselves this time, and without a bunch of extra people to scare off the animals, the wildlife show was amazing. As we decended to the entrance, about 30 feet under the surface, eagle rays swam by and continued to make laps, so we could watch their sillouettes pass overhead as we sat at the bottom. As we entered the hole, we spooked a school of jacks. They emerged from the darkness below, but circled the blue hole for the rest of our dive. Eagle rays, shmeagle rays…”The jacks stole the show!” Paul declared. At 90+ feet we reached the bottom, where the biggest angelfish we’ve ever seen dodged in and out of the tunnel entrances – tunnels that go who knows how far before opening to the ocean. Humongous lobsters peeked out from behind rocks at 60 ft. It was really one of the best dives we’ve ever done. We posted the video a while back, but if you haven’t seen it, check it out: https://pelagicexplorers.com/2019/03/06/blue-hole-diving/

Paul, eagle ray, jacks and other fish swimming over Angelfish hole

Lindsey at bottom of Angelfish hole – the cave continues through a tunnel behind her

The day after that we dove Mystery Cave, this time going into the cave – it’s wide inside but as you descend you can only see the glow of light from the entrance, making it a bit creepy. There is not much to see inside the cave since the fish like to hang outside where people feed them. Of note, cave diving is a specialty and we do not encourage it without appropriate training!

We loved Angelfish so much we dove it again and again. We took friends a few times. We hadn’t got as much diving in as we hoped in the Bahamas since most of the areas we hang out are shallow enough for snorkeling, and the deeper areas are usually a little more remote than what we feel comfortable diving with just 2 people in a little inflatable dinghy without much horsepower. But between Angelfish and the next dive we had planned, lugging along the dive gear and compressor was completely worth it.

There are more caves to explored in this area too, particularly near Crab Cay. We used this map. https://sites.google.com/site/minnswatersports/maps The Crevasse near the bridge is pretty large and diveable, but the water there is not the clearest. We snorkeled the opening, and I didn’t much appreciate that the barracuda there kept getting closer when I turned my back (they are always creepily curious, but usually back off more quickly than this one did). We intended to go back for a dive but never made it. The caves along Crab Cay are small openings with outflowing water. They are somewhat difficult to find, but attract a surprising amount of fish. One of them had a puffer that kept making me laugh – he’d burst out of the cave like, “Hello, world!”, catch sight of us, panic and dash back inside.

This area also has buoys to mark many of the top snorkeling spots. We spotted our first Hawksbill turtle on one of these reefs! https://elizabethharbourpartnership.org/community/interactive-snorkeling-buoy-map/

When we were above water, we checked out the too-competitive-for-us volleyball at Chat’n’Chill, joined fellow cruisers for the “rake’n’scrape” music and dancing at Eddie’s (well, Paul doesn’t dance, but everyone else did), hosted some dinners, attended some dinners, crashed a French Canadian bonfire, and went to the Bahamian music festival, where I finally got to see a Junkanoo parade!

Junkanoo Parade at the Heritage Music Festival

One of the goals for this year had been to go to somewhere truly remote – perhaps Andros, the Raggeds, or an island in the middle of the tongue of the ocean – basically to go somewhere only our boat could take us. Cohort was heading to the Raggeds, so I teamed up with them to put a lot of pressure on Paul to join them. This season he had started to worry more about something happening to the boat while we were far for help. Every noise or puff of smoke from our engine – which had given us no problems after the work we put into it back in the Chesapeake Bay – left him paranoid for days. But we finally had him convinced to do the trip, as long as there were no west winds expected. But then 40 knots of west wind popped into the forecast. Over several days, I begged him to wait for a forecast that actually was close enough to our travel dates to be worth a damn. At over a week out, there was no use in even looking at the weather.

Unfortunately, the forecasters couldn’t seem to decide if the weather was going to be completely benign or really awful. The worst of the forecasts said:

“developing meso-scale cyclone (a small, regionally-sized developing area of low pressure)…and may support wind potentially from any direction (though the prevailing wind direction should be N-E, there may be intervals of wind from any direction)…at speeds averaging 20-40k, but with at least 50k in T-strms associated with each IMPULSE. In addition, expect waterspouts especially near each IMPULSE, as surface winds are NE-ENE / winds above the surface veer S / winds aloft are strong and WSW…so there’s a lot of vertical wind speed and direction shear.)”

Without any certainty in the forecast, we decided to head to Long Island, where Thompson Bay offered protection from most directions, including the west. Cohort would be continuing on to Turks & Caicos from the Raggeds so we said goodbye over the radio as we both headed out of Elizabeth Harbour.

We were motoring straight into the wind. We didn’t put up sails as our boat doesn’t point (sail into the wind) well. When the wind picked up and we slowed to under 2 knots, Paul started to get upset – he hates going slow and started to challenge me, “Do you think this is fun?!” I said yes, because the speed, or lack thereof, really doesn’t bother me. But we decided to put up a sail to see if it would help, even going into the wind, and wouldn’t you know, we were suddenly going 6 knots! That’ll teach us to doubt our sailboat’s ability to sail!

We sailed past White Cay, where one of the Pirates of the Carribean movies filmed a scene. Dolphins checked out the boat. With our new found speed, we could see Long Island in the distance as the sun went down. As we entered the anchorage, the woman who owns the Fair Haven house on the hill radioed us to welcome us to the bay. We heard the music from the Mutton Festival, reminding me I had wanted to get here in time for the festival but we had missed it, oh well!

We knew Long Island would be our furthest point south. What was the big draw here? Dean’s Blue Hole, one of the deepest blue holes in the world at 663 ft.

The blue hole is on the opposite side of the island, so we needed a car. Long Island is 80 miles long, so we rented the car for a couple days so we could go exploring. From Thompson Bay, you can get to very sturdy dinghy dock, a well-stocked grocery, the car rental place, the farmers market, the mechanic, Tiny’s Hurricane Hole Beach Bar, another bar in town, the gas station, and even some explorable caves. But there is so much more on this island, so the $60/day-cash-only car rental is worth it.

Given the hassle of hauling our scuba gear across the island, we thought we’d rent a 2nd set of tanks so we could dive the blue hole twice without having to return to our boat for air refills. Google listed a dive shop near our anchorage, but we found out it had closed years ago. This meant the closest place to rent dive gear was Stella Maris resort – 40 minutes north of our boat, while Dean’s Blue Hole was 40 minutes south of the boat! Once again, we felt very glad to have our own gear and compressor so we could make this dive happen!

Feeling good before diving Dean’s Blue Hole

The funny thing was, we ended up not needing that 2nd tank at all. Originally we discussed diving to 110 ft – which would be record for us. Then we decided on 100 ft. The plan was to head straight to our planned depth and slowly make our way back up. Paul was going to stay above me by a few feet to film my descent. Well, let me tell you: diving head first into a 663 feet black hole for the first time is intimidating. (“It’s all in your mind!” an experienced friend told us. “But it’s hard when your mind is with you on the dive!” Paul retorted.) I slowed my breathing and swam on.

The visibility here supposedly can be great, but when you have a bunch of little kids swimming around, kicking loads of sand everywhere, that tends not to be the case.

About 30 feet under, Paul descending into Dean’s Blue Hole

We knew that the hole would widen at 70 feet from around 100-ft-diameter to over 300-ft-diameter. As I hit the 50 foot mark, I saw the scales shimmering on the backs of tarpon who were gliding out from their hiding spot under that 70-foot-ledge. I tried to think about how cool the video of me swimming with tarpon would be, but I wasn’t really expecting creatures to pop out from under the ledge like that. Tarpon aren’t any sort of threat, though they freak some people out since they can get up to 8 feet long. These ones were only around 3-5 ft.

Paul’s mind was going similar places. We had heard larger animals like tarpon and sharks are sometimes spotted in Dean’s, but given that the top of the hole is surrounded by cliffs and shallow beach, we figured that was quite rare and were not expecting it. He started to think, if there are tarpon under that ledge, what else could be there? Normally seeing a shark on a dive is no big deal, but being in an enclosed space with one? We weren’t quite ready for that.

Bang-bang-bang. Paul was whacking his knife against his tank to get my attention. He signaled for me to come up. I ascended from around 60 feet and we rested on a ledge back at 50. I hadn’t realized how much my heart was pounding and was glad to sit and rest. We spent the rest of the dive circling near the surface. The fish and coral are only in the first 30 feet anyway. Plus we had fun pretending to “fall in” and “climb out” of the hole.

Once we were back on the surface, in 2 feet of crystal clear water and white sand, I said to Paul, “Honestly…. I don’t need to dive that again.” Paul felt the same way – glad to have done it but okay with never doing it again!

Long Island, like much of the Bahamas, is full of caves and blue holes, so weren’t done exploring. There are several marked in Thompson Bay, so we would go on dinghy rides to explore and spearfish among the holes and rocks. The water here is often cloudy, but we still managed to find a couple of the holes, hiding some big snappers and a giant stingray. Around some of the rocks we’d see grouper and nurse sharks. A barge wreck marked on the charts was surprisingly interesting and full of fish.

My favorite part was playing with the dolphins! As we headed back to Miss Fe after a day of exploring the bay, we saw a small pod of dolphins surface, and we went after them in the dinghy, hoping to swim with them. We pulled out in front of them, they darted straight for us, and Paul hopped into the water as fast as he could with his mask. He surfaced – “It’s too cloudy. I can’t see shit!” Back into the dinghy he leapt, and after the dolphins we chased. They were definitely in a playful mood, teasing us by alternating who was chasing whom, and sometimes riding our wake. I giggled hysterically while we and dolphins circled each other for several minutes, but they wouldn’t slow down let us join them for a swim!

This was just a little of Long Island’s magic.

You think you’re far from home, but then the US Coast Guard flies over your boat

June 30, 2019June 30, 2019

Everything We Thought Sailing Would Be

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When we first took off for the Abacos last season, we had some pretty idealized expectations about the color of water (blue), the number of anchorages teeming with friendly young people (many), the weather (warm and perfect), and how many fish we would catch (lots).

We were so positive, in fact, that we took off with hardly any chicken in the fridge, convinced we would be damn near pescatarians with all our inevitable fishing success. (Ok, so maybe this had more to do with the fact that we provisioned at Walmart at 10pm the night before we left the dock and they were out of chicken breasts…. but nevertheless, we were confident in our fishing skills.)

In many ways our expectations were met, but other things weren’t quite up to par – the grassy anchorages were tinted green, not every boat invited us over for a party (and they were always going the opposite way!), lots of storms rolled through week to week, and we were looking pretty sad on the fishing front.

We headed to the Bahamas this year with more realistic expectations. This time we were prepared for cooler temps and rainy days with a metal detector -a new land activity for restless Lindsey so Paul could watch movies on the boat. Yet again, we found ourselves caught by surprise.

It turns out the Exumas are what we were seeing in our sailing dreams! While we are still pretty convinced that the Abacos as a whole are our favorite, our time in the Exumas seemed to be embody what we thought sailing really would be.

I mean, just look at this place:

We had better luck meeting lots of people this year too. Part of this was from storing our boat at Indiantown: Lots of the people we met there were in the Bahamas, and we got to meet up with several them or at a minimum keep up with each others’ experiences through Facebook. In addition to this, it just seemed like there were more young cruisers this year. (FYI, “young” is anyone younger than typical retirement age, but “old” is a mindset and has nothing to do with physical age). We wondered if the Exuma island chain is a more popular destination, but our friends told us even they saw far fewer young people in the Exumas last year. Between YouTube-inspired sailors and those figuring out ways to work remotely (or retire early or temporarily), it appears our numbers are increasing.

I’m sure it helped that we were going the typical cruiser route at the typical cruiser time – lots of boats were heading south to make it to George Town on Great Exuma (the island where Fyre Festival was held, or not held!) in time for the Regatta. We repeatedly found the same anchorages as Holiday and their buddy boat Elixer, finally getting to spend some time with them in Georgetown. We met up with One-O-Six in Nassau, Black Point, Farmers and Georgetown – they are documenting their journey on a YouTube channel How Not To Sail a Boat. Our friends on Mariposa left George Town just before we got there, but luckily we still crossed paths and shared an anchorage for a night. There were a lot of other boats we didn’t get to meet but chatted with on Instagram as they always seemed to be close by.

We also met a Wisconsin couple who had flown into the Bahamas for vacation. It was fun to bring them out to the boat for dinner on a windy day. They got the “real” experience of wearing foul weather gear and getting splashed in the dinghy!

The loneliness we sometimes felt last year definitely wasn’t there this year!

And of course, the best part, we got to meet up with Cohort several times. We didn’t exactly “buddy boat” (you’ll never catch Paul doing something with a name like that), but we’d meet up for a few days here and there as we moved down the island chain. They showed us a shrimp-filled cave we had no clue existed; we had many sunset cocktails; we discovered fish are scared of laser pointers (don’t ask); we swam & hiked; we got our first lobsters!

Conch – legal sized adult shells have a large flared lip

Speaking of fishing, we did better with that too. Although the Exumas don’t have the large barrier reefs like the Abacos, we had enough luck on the banks to have a few seafood feasts. Triggerfish, conch, lobster, squid – we had quite the variety!

Fish, crab, lobster – Miss Fe and Cohort clean up!!

Squid – our night fishing surprise! Super cool critters and a very sustainable fishery

The weather was, for the most part, incredible. Unlike the Abacos’ weekly thunderstorms, we had mostly blue skies, and when the wind did come in, no storms accompanied it. The sunset on Valentine’s Day was the most incredible we’d ever seen.

We had nights of pure calm where we’d turn on the deck lights to illuminate the water and go night swimming in our very own “swimming pool.”

There was one night when the wind shifted to the north but the waves came from the west, which meant that our normally still-as-can-be boat rocked back and forth all night. We could have moved next to Little Farmers Cay for western protection, but we’re pretty stubborn at 10:00 pm… and midnight… and 2:00 am…. so we suffered through it, stuffing our separate berths with pillows to prevent our bodies from rolling. But that night was definitely the exception. I can tell you that the cloudy day metal detector never got used.

We enjoyed many new experiences in this part of the island chain.

We met J.R. the woodcarver on Little Farmers Cay. I think you can tell from the pictures that I was pretty excited to find some art I really liked. He gave us a tour of his property, its many edible plants and fruits, and his small carving shop. Has been a woodcarver for over 50 years and has traveled all over the world doing promotions for the Bahamas Ministry of Tourism. He uses no electric tools and said a carving like the one I bought takes him 3-4 hours.

We cruised by lots of celebrity-owned private islands. Musha and Rudder Cays are owned by David Copperfield. We swam to the sunken mermaid statue. I had lots of great photo ideas, but the current was ripping when we got there, so these are the best we got! Of note, my free diving has greatly improved. Last year I could barely get 5 feet under water, but I’m up to at least 15 now!

This area seemed to have some of the clearest, bluest water in all of the Bahamas. As we took the dinghy from Rudder Cay to Darby Island, looking down upon the coral, stingrays, and grass was like looking through glass.

Our reason for going to Darby was to scope out its “Nazi” history – according to folklore, the island’s former owner was a Nazi sympathizer who signaled to U-boats and carved out places for them to hide. We had to go see this “U-boat trench.” This is also where we would have the most dangerous moment of our trip.

We had grand plans of a lovely sunset hike on the island, but we immediately noticed the horrendous and aggressive swarms of mosquitoes and no-see-ums when we tied our dinghy alongside the concrete dock. We dove into the water, but we knew this would be a quick swim since the bugs were following us, waiting to attack as soon as we surfaced!

It was easy to see why it’s suspected that U-boats parked here. The dock has underwater stairs and this narrow waterway between two islands suddenly plunges very deep and does appear to be man-made. A stingray was buried on the bottom and an eagle ray glided by us.

Paul swam to the other side of the trench and then headed back towards the dock. Just as he reached the dock, we heard a noise, but we couldn’t see where it was coming from. Suddenly, from around the corner, two large, speeding powerboats carrying the models and photographers from a photoshoot on Rudder Cay blasted by us. I shot my hand up to make sure they saw us, which they did, but they didn’t slow down. We prepared to swim over their huge wakes and watched our dinghy bash into shore. When looking at the map for this area, it looked very shallow beyond the trench, so I didn’t expect boat traffic. If I had known, we would have left the dinghy in the channel to warn boats we were there. We were a little shaken up from the fact that 30 seconds earlier, Paul would have been swimming right in the path of these boats, so we hopped back into the dinghy and zoomed away from the swarms of bugs back to the safety of Miss Fe.

Lee Stocking was one of our favorite stops even though Paul, fisheries biologist at heart, found it sad to see the closed down buildings of what was one of the nicest marine research facilities he’d ever seen. The caretakers said we could roam around, and the place was beautiful. There is a hike across the old airstrip and along the edge of the cliff to the highest point in the Exumas. It felt great to really stretch our legs!

Paul mourning the loss of these aquaculture ponds

Nearby on Normans Pond Cay is a cave with an entrance that is like a deep blue swimming pool and Leaf Cay is home to many pink iguanas – I thought maybe the iguanas were a joke until I saw them!

We had our first experience with someone anchoring way too close to us, and it was in a spot where the uneven current ensured the boats would not swing in sync. When it was undeniable that our boats were drifting closer together, we asked them to move since they had arrived after us. First the guy denied that there was a problem, but then he agreed with me that the current was not moving our boats the same way – yet he promptly disappeared back inside his boat after acknowledging the problem! We decided to be “the bigger person” and moved a half mile away where we had 6 white sand beaches all to ourselves.

Real-life objects are closer than they appear

We worked swimming into our daily routine. Last year there were a lot of no-rinse baths when the evenings got chilly, but this year, come 5:00 pm we’d dinghy over to a beach, soap up, wash our hair, swim and talk until our feet were prunes, and then head back to the boat for an on-deck solar shower fresh water rinse. Is it weird that this was one of our favorite things of boat life?

And of course, we saw lots of cool aquatic creatures:

First live king’s helmet conch we ever saw

Can you spot the skate (or ray of some sort) and sea cucumber?

All of this added up made me realize that the trip had really started to meet more of our original expectations. I’m not saying it was perfect. Cooking and cleaning in a small space takes way too much time. We spend too much time sitting with movies and shows on the computer. I shed like a dog washing my hair in salt water (though my hair became awesomely wavy and not frizzy). We can never agree on a consistent bedtime. Sometimes, I’d wish for a normal bed with a nightstand. Or a normal flushing toilet. (Check out our friends’ the Litzenbergers’ podcast on boredom on boats for a reality check.) But overall, the Exumas lived up to the “paradise” we thought they might be.

February 24, 2019February 24, 2019

Lazy Days on Lonely Islands

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Of the thousands of islands, cays, and rocks that make up the Bahamas, only 30 are populated (though I assume this often published figure counts only those with settlements, and not the many privately owned islands). Enjoying an island that we have all to ourselves is one of our favorite things about the Bahamas.

Miss Fe motor sailing along the Berry Islands

As we approach a destination, I look for the masts of other boats peeking out from above the rocky shores and scraggly shrubs. “Wow, there are a lot of boats here!” is sometimes the somewhat disappointed cry, but often from afar, what looks to be 10 boats crowded in a little anchorage turns out to be 10 boats spread out, tucked in among various small rocks and cays, with their crew on board, leaving the islands for us to enjoy alone.

As we entered the cut at White Cay, the depth of the water drop from 50 feet to under 20, and suddenly the water was bright blue against the white cliffs of the cays and we could see the sandy bottom and bits of coral. I turned to Dave, “This is so beautiful! I can’t believe it!”

Entering the cut at White Cay to Hoffmans Cay

The turn of the boat into the cut meant we were suddenly taking waves on the side and the boat rocked. Down below, unable to see what was happening, Naomi looked alarmed by the sudden movement. “Don’t worry, we just turned,” I told her. “We’re here. Come on up. It’s gorgeous!” The landscape of the islands is more dramatic in the Berries than the northern Bahamas. I love it.

We weaved among the anchored boats and dropped our anchor in a sandy patch west the rest. Of course, a lone boat is like a magnet, so once we did this, several boats that came in later anchored closer to us. However, we have a 4 foot draft, less than most cruising sailboats, so this allows us some privacy as we can go where some others cannot.

Off to the beach we went! A white – almost pink – sand beach on White Cay beckoned us. Paul shuttled his parents to the beach with their snorkels and then came back for me. Like it often does, the clear water looked empty from above, but once we plunged beneath the surface with our masks, we could see all the little white fish that hide in the shimmer of the water. Between the rocks, we found a healthy patch of corals and plenty of fish, including a file fish that our fish ID book says is uncommon to see in the Bahamas.

Supposedly uncommon-in-Bahamas orangespotted filefish

It was approaching sunset when Paul dinghied his parents back to Miss Fe, and for a few minutes, I was queen of my own island. I ran up the hills, climbed the rocks facing the ocean, and just laughed out loud because how in the world did I get this all to myself?!

When Paul and I were in the dinghy, another boat yelled, “Beautiful sunset, right?” so we stopped to talk. The single-handed sailor told us about all the fish he caught that day and all the sharks that followed the fish to his boat.

Dave and Naomi relaxed in the cockpit. Paul planned our adventures from his berth. I cooked dinner on our 3-burner stove in our little galley. There is excellent cell phone service over most of the Bahamas, but this was one of the rare signal-less pockets that frees you from that distraction.

In the morning, we headed to a small beach on Hoffmans Cay where a trail begins. Between our boat and the beach, there was only sand and grass but plenty of critters seemed to be passing through – Paul spotted a shark; I eyed the biggest needlefish we’ve ever seen, at first mistaking it for a barracuda.

The barely-there trail lead us to this area’s main attraction – a blue hole. The trail leads to the edge of a small cliff, about 20 feet above the water’s surface. Continuing along the edge of the cliff, we found the trail goes beneath the cliff so you can enter at water’s edge. Paul insisted that I jump from the cliff. I climbed up. I hesitated. He offered to go first. He climbed up. He hesitated! (We’ve both had negative cliff jumping experiences in the past.) He shimmied to a lower ledge and we both jumped from there. I tried not holding my nose but instinctively did anyway, and then I tried to let go of my nose and ended up swallowing a ton of water! Bleh!

Hoffmans Cay Blue Hole Berry Islands Bahamas — Not so graceful leaping into Hoffmans Blue Hole (click photo to enlarge)

We snorkeled the blue hole, admiring the rocks, but you can’t see the bottom in most places. We spotted a sea turtle and followed him until he disappeared into the depths. We wondered where the hole opens to the sea to let him in there.

Sea turtle in Hoffmans Blue Hole Berry Island Bahamas — Sea turtle in Hoffmans Blue Hole

Hoffmans Cay Blue Hole Berries Bahamas — Into the abyss

When we were done swimming, we ran back to the beach to escape the no-see-ums swarming around the the blue hole. There were sting rays hanging out in the shallows. Dave named one of them Fred.

Naomi watches as Paul films Fred the stingray

Paul took Dave and me to the deep side of White – he dropped us in and we swam with the current, admiring some large stands of coral and plenty of trigger fish, until I got cold and waved Paul over to pick us up.

We headed back to yesterday’s beach and walked over the rocks to dry off. There are hermit crabs EVERYWHERE – on the trails, rolling down hills, climbing in the bushes. We were fascinated and careful not to step on them! The curly tailed lizards ran around, waiting until you were nearly on top of them to reveal themselves and scurry away.

We watched an awesome sunset from the boat. We heard the radio crackle with boats calling for Flo’s Conch Bar – a bar miles away that sits by itself on an island – I’m not certain if the owner even lives there. Though we were curious about the bar, the last weather forecast we’d seen indicated that sooner rather than later would be better for travel, so we skipped the famous rum punches and headed for Nassau the next day.

This would be our last “deep water” passage for a while, and Paul was glad to be getting these 40 miles over with so he didn’t have to think about them any more. Swells were large enough to rock the boat a bit, but not so large that I should have been seasick, yet for some reason I was feeling the queasiest I’ve ever felt on our boat. I spent most of the day down below closing my eyes while Paul and Dave took turns steering. The wind was light and we, like all the other boats within view, started with sails up but soon took them down to motor.

Sometimes we wonder what strange things we may encounter at sea. I was sitting on the bow of the boat, staring out at something suspicious.

“Is there a boat ahead?” Paul asked me.

“No…. but there’s a funnel cloud forming.”

As a kid, I loved the movie Twister, and thought being a tornado chaser was cool (though scary). Never did I expect that it would be sailing that would expose me to that type of natural wonder.

Eyes glued to the sky, we watched the clouds swirl, and indeed the funnel cloud began to stretch from the sky towards the water, directly in our path…

October 15, 2018October 25, 2018

Last 3 Weeks in Paradise: 25 Bahamas Experiences

Disclaimer: Since it is hurricane season, we wanted to clarify that our boat is safely stored at an inland marina in Florida. This post covers our Bahamas adventures back in May. We’ll update you on the current situation soon!

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After leaving Grand Cay in March, most of our travel decisions were based on the idea of revisiting that particular island. It is a jump-off point for scuba diving at Walkers Cay, which is supposed to be one of the best dive sites in the Bahamas. We’d provision and start to head north, only to realize we weren’t going to get a clear enough stretch of weather to make us feel good about venturing back into the more remote, less protected northern Abacos.

Once again, we were facing a nasty forecast in 3-6 days, so we decided we’d head south to provision in Marsh Harbour and then attempt to make it to Grand Cay. Ah, the sailing life – where it’s normal to turn grocery shopping into a multi-day adventure.

Spoiler alert: We never made it to Grand Cay! However these few weeks were the best of the trip. Here are 25 experiences from those weeks (in generally chronological order):

We tried our Monitor windvane for the first time ever. Can we say – WOW!
The Monitor at work behind Paul

The windvane is essentially an autopilot – it’s a wing on the back of the boat that you angle into the wind and connect to the steering wheel, and it steers for you. People told us we would love it, but really, wow! Normally this would be used in open sea to allow you to focus on tasks other than steering or to just take a break, but we continued to watch our course carefully and frequently adjusted the windvane since we were in a narrow area. It was just so cool to see it working!
We had the most gorgeous day of sailing. It was the only time in the Bahamas that we put up both foresails. Weather was sunny and beautiful. The water was paradise blue.

This photo is from the day before…. only 1 sail up then haha

We sailed at 5+ knots the whole time. The swell across Whale Channel was perfectly timed for a comfortable ride. It was a great reminder why having a sailboat is amazing!
Dolphins escorted us into the Marsh Harbour anchorage. They were a mama and baby pair, and they played in the bow. We’ve had so few dolphin sightings in the Bahamas compared to the US! We also saw sea turtles and a nurse shark in the anchorage.

Nurse shark
We realized it’s a small world after all. We ran into a catamaran from Bass Lake, CA, a town near Paul’s hometown. We drove up to them in our dinghy, and it turns out they know a lot of people that Paul and his family also know.

These snails agree its a small world!
I tried to watch sunset and instead saw a big fat waterspout. That one disappeared before I could get the camera, but a second, skinnier one formed on the horizon – not nearby thankfully! We’d met the couple who owns the powerboat in this picture earlier that day, so I emailed them the photo. Their response: “Holy shit!”
Left side of photo… the skinny water spout below the clouds
We dined with cool cats at the full moon party at Cracker P’s on Lubbers Quarters. We were greeted at the dock by one of their many bar cats.
The welcome committee at Cracker P’s on Lubbers Quarters

We got there before the crowds, when they were still making frozen drinks, and they were SO GOOD (not sure how much alcohol was in them but yummm). It was $25 for an all-you-can-eat-buffet that they kept refilling for hours and hours. By Bahamas standards, that is not an expensive restaurant meal and it was actually REALLY tasty – the chicken was excellent; the grouper and pork were good; the coconut conch was interesting. Beer was overpriced, but otherwise this was one of our best meals out in the islands. The place has a little beach and paddleboards, so it would be fun to check out during the day next time.
We accidentally attended another full moon party.
Noticing some movement on the beach at our Mystery Island X anchorage, we got out the binoculars (are we creepy?) and saw several people building a beach fire. We were tired, but we decided to eat dinner and then drag ourselves to the beach after we saw what we thought was fire dancing…. which turned out to be a light-up hula hoop that I was required to use as initiation into the party. There was singing and guitar playing and people from Chicago who had literally planned their Bahamas charter around attending this full moon party because they loved it last time they were here…. 12 years ago. Attending this fire ended up being the best idea because…
We made friends who weren’t on the move! At the party, we met S & J, two experienced travelers and sailors who had been staying at this anchorage long term. As soon as J invited Paul to go spearfishing, I knew we’d be staying here a while, no matter how long Paul had to wait out the weather! In addition, we got to know the island’s residents who hosted the bonfire, and they were incredibly interesting and generous people – these are people who bought raw land and built it into a truly magical destination over the course of decades, with materials, groceries, and supplies they could bring in only by boat.
Many people stop at this island to go walking, so there was always someone to talk to if you were hanging out on the beach. We met a lot of Canadians, including a family of 4 on a boat around the size of ours. They were homeschooling for a year while giving their daughters the adventure of a lifetime. The weeks were filled with dinners on boats, birthday celebrations, and more bonfires. Especially with S & J around, we got to experience the sense of community we really missed since we’d left the dock at Pineapple’s. We’re really so grateful to them for hanging out, showing us around, and tolerating all the times we yelled “ahoy” into their boat while S was on the phone!
We swam with the “tame” sharks and rays. S told us about a spot where the tour boats feed the sharks and rays.
One common activity is to put squid between your toes and let the rays suck it out. We didn’t try this!
No one was feeding the animals when we arrived, so Paul put on his snorkel and headed in, while I stood in the shallow water trying to work up some courage while also keeping a close eye on the rays and sharks (lemons, reef, and nurse) that ventured in looking for tasty treats.
Eventually, after seeing Paul not get eaten, I went in too. We tried to get cool pictures but the sharks were way too timid to pose for photos. I acknowledge calling them “tame” is a joke and there might be some stupidity in swimming where the animals are used to being fed, but like I said, there was no active feeding going on and unlike this woman who got bit by a nurse shark, I kept my arms to myself and my eyes open!
We watched our boat neighbors battle a shark big enough to keep us out of the water. There was a big boat anchored next to us a few days, and we later learned they were filming a pilot for an Amazon TV show (gotta get that boat tax write-off somehow, right?). We watched as one guy caught something huge on his fishing rod – he fought it for half an hour while people on the boat hooted and hollered and filmed whatever he was valiantly trying to reel in. After he gave up and caught the line, we took the dinghy by and shouted, “What did you have on the line!?” He yelled back, “A 10-foot tiger shark!” We didn’t take any sunset swims after that.
No-see-ums are way worse than mosquitoes. All of a sudden, it got warm enough for the bugs to come out in full force. We discovered this when a walk through the woods turned into a race to the beach as we tried to outrun the mosquitoes. Little did we understand that the no-see-ums would be the true enemy. For a week I’d wake up in the middle of the night as the little itchy bumps would suddenly fire up again. The boats in the anchorage kept moving farther out to sea, as they tried to find a spot far enough from the island that the mosquitoes wouldn’t come for dinner.
We got to do some sweet scuba diving! Island X’s reefs are beautiful and full of little caves.
Paul and I went diving on a rare calm day and spotted a magnificently huge elkhorn coral. J and I went the next day – he took me through some little caves and swim-throughs, where we saw a giant urchin, a moral eel, a big lobster, good-sized trigger fish, and a shark egg.

Shark egg?
The slipper lobster reared its ugly head. Have you ever heard of a slipper lobster? Neither had we. But they’re so ugly that they’re cute. And they taste good too.
Bohnanza turned out to the be the world’s best card game. I’m not even joking. You get to be vicious and sneaky, but only if you want. Throw in a waterfront cabin and mojitos made with limes and mint straight out of the garden, and you pretty much have the best night ever.
We discovered foods we’d never heard of. We met some folks kind enough to share from their garden. When going to the grocery store presents you with soggy potatoes, soggy onions, and broccoli, being gifted fresh food is like being given $1000, and we are forever grateful.
And to see the amount of hard work and love that these people put into their garden was pretty amazing. In our tour of the place, we discovered fruits we never heard of, such as the sour orange, surinam cherry and the chocolate pudding fruit! J kept insisting that 1 of every 7 surinam cherries is sweet and delicious instead of bitter. I ate like 30 of them and haven’t found the sweet one yet!
We went land crabbing! J rolled up to our boat one day and asked if we wanted to go crabbing. Imagining this to include a trap being dropped in the water, I asked, “What does it involve?” He answered, “A canvas bag, long pants, long sleeves, flash lights, and bug spray… oh, and lots of rum. We’ll pick you up after sunset.” When I told Paul, he said, “Oooooh, we must be going land crabbing!” I had no idea this was even a thing.
On our ride to the scene of this activity, S & J gave us instruction on how to step lightly on the crabs’ heads and grab them behind the claws. Next thing we knew, we downed some rum and took off running down the trails, flashlights in hand. Soon enough, we’re busting through brush and diving into holes grabbing crab after crab, throwing them into bags and buckets…. and re-capturing the ones that managed to escape! The rum is an essential part of this because you have to give the grabs some sort of advantage.After caging and feeding the crabs for a few days to “clean them out,” a feast was had. I think we cooked something like 10 crabs for 11 people – those suckers are huge!

I make ridiculous faces when handling crabs.
Bioluminescence lit up our world. Have you ever seen a fancy power boat with decorative blue lights under the stern? That’s what bioluminescence looks like. Microorganisms in the water produce light when disturbed. We’d just barely seen this before in Puerto Rico and Florida, but then it was like a little green glitter in the water. Here it was like having a blue flashlight under water. We drove the dinghy in circles to make it glow. I would entertain myself endlessly by leaning over the boat and bouncing fenders in the water, watching the it light up and giggling. We couldn’t get the camera settings right to capture it in a photo, but google it and you’ll get the idea. We thought it would be so cool to swim with our bodies glowing, but then we’d start thinking about that tiger shark….
Paul learned the art of spearfishing…. and shark fighting. When the weather finally settled, Paul went spearfishing with J. J knows the reef like the back of his hand, will chase fish into deep holes, and can hold his breath for several minutes, so Paul went truly as the student.In the Bahamas, you aren’t allowed to spearfish with scuba equipment, so you must hold your breath as long as it takes you to find, spear, and retrieve the fish. Paul’s spear is a pole attached to a giant rubber band. You pull the pole back to use the power of the band to launch the spear, but the band stays around your wrist so you don’t lose it.
Problem number one – sometimes the fish fight back! Paul shot a fish, but before he could grab the end of the spear, the fish started to swim away, loading up the tension on the rubber band. The fish broke free and – “pop!” – launched the dull end of the spear right back into Paul’s chest. He recoiled, resisting the urge to gasp while 20 feet underwater. Luckily, his only real injury was a bruise that lasted a week.Problem number two – the sharks know where J hunts. As soon as they hopped out of the dinghy into the water, the reef sharks were there, waiting for the spearing to begin. Normal protocol would be that if one person spears something, the other person acts as shark lookout/defense as you work to get the fish back to the boat. When Paul got a fish, he looked for J to signal it was time to roll, but he noticed that J had just speared a fish too!
With 2 flailing, bleeding fish, they surfaced, trying to hold the fish out of the water as they swam for the boat, which now somehow seemed to be 100 yards away. The sharks were in hot pursuit, and the guys were ready to give them a good whack if they got within arms distance (don’t worry, they’re tough and wouldn’t be harmed). Though the sharks get close, J said they’re typical behavior is to look at you like, “What? You’re not a fish!” and then to swim off to the spot where the fish was originally speared.Trying to imagine what this is like? Here’s a picture from someone with a very similar experience:

Sorry Joe, I stole your photo cause it’s just too cool
Paul never looks happier than when he’s been fishing. :::love:::
Nature is so freaking awesome. And sometimes you just don’t have the camera ready. Paul tossed a scrap of fish off Miss Fe into the water. Instantly, a shark darted out from under our boat and grabbed the fish – then a barracuda larger than the shark came out and stole the fish from the shark!
We enjoyed the view from Foxtown. This little town on Abaco wasn’t originally in our list of places to visit, but as we made our way back towards West End to depart for the US, it offered us protection from easterly winds. The view from here, with all the rocks, made us feel like we were suddenly in a different country. And from the tall town docks (where the water is quite shallow, so dinghies only), we could see the sharks waiting for the fisherman to drop their scraps.
Sharks and more sharks
Bahamians don’t approve of Paul’s beer choices. Food was surprisingly affordable in Foxtown at Da Valley Restaurant – and holy crap the fried food platter was the best we’d had. And beers were $4, except for one called Bushcrack, which was only $3. Curious, Paul ordered a Bushcrack and the patron at the bar says to the bartender, “Did you warn him?!” Paul didn’t understand what the fuss was about though – it tasted light but still had 5.7% ABV. Plus the name is just funny.
No boat repairs! They say cruising is just fixing your boat in exotic places, but after leaving Florida, we were fortunate to have no real problems. Here we were, 2.5 months in the Bahamas, and the only thing we were doing was splicing a bad section of our jib sheet. It probably could have made the trip home, but we didn’t want to risk it since we wanted to head back to Florida with some actual wind so that it wouldn’t take 19 hours (unlike when we came to the Bahamas).While we were splicing , I pulled up the charts and realized we were still 2 days journey from West End, not one day. We’d gotten so spoiled in the populated part of the Abacos that we’d forgotten that not everything else was just a 10-20 mile hop.
We practiced our “rough weather” sailing. OK, I suppose it wasn’t actually rough weather in the mind of most cruising sailors, but it’s not a day the recreational folks would normally pick for “fun.” We had around 15 knots of wind and 3-4 foot waves as we headed from Foxtown to Great Sale Cay. There is no cell reception in Great Sale, so the other boats were all over the radio discussing weather and Gulf Stream crossing plans. Despite the rough seas there were several boats who had just come from the US. The next day, en route to West End, the wind and waves had calmed down on Little Bahama Bank, but the waves were annoyingly choppy – I was fine with this as I still wanted to get used to rougher waters before we crossed. Paul even sailed through narrow pass near West End, and we had a big dolphin swim through our bow wake to say “farewell.”
Checking the weather

Once we were within range of cell phone service once again, we checked the weather again. Chris Parker’s forecast showed more intense conditions than previously predicted for Sunday night into Monday (we planned to cross Monday morning) – he now recommended crossing only for “Salty Sailors” with 5-6 foot waves and winds 14-19 knots, gusting to 24. This was about 5 knots and 1-2 feet more than we were hoping for. We debated waiting. We debated changing our haul-out date in Florida (a schedule is the enemy of sailors). We decided to wait a few more days. Then we questioned our decision. We researched some more forecasts. We consulted with J; he said we’d be fine.As we headed to the West End anchorage, we were exposed to the waves rolling in and they were about 6 feet. Getting to experience those waves made me feel better – they seemed manageable. We decided to head out Monday morning.
We managed to anchor at West End, but it was hard to sleep as we thought about coming back to the US.
Way too amped up to sleep – bye bye Bahamas! We’ll be back soon!

Though we heard other sailors say that West End is “the worst anchorage ever,” we’ve actually had good holding both times we anchored there. We also tucked back in far enough that we weren’t exposed to those 6 foot waves. The problem is the current. After emailing a float plan to Paul’s dad, calling my parents, and prepping the sails for easy deployment in high winds, we attempted to sleep but the current moved our boat in a crazy pattern all around our anchor and kept shaking the snubber lose. The chain would then start rattling, waking us from whatever almost-sleep we were getting. Add in the anxiety of a big crossing, and we most certainly weren’t asleep until after midnight.

In conclusion, these last few weeks were amazing!! Here a bunch more photos, and stay tuned to hear about our adventure crossing back through the Gulf Stream to Florida!

Little fish swimming through a wrecked barge

Our first sighting of the invasive lion fish

Paul trying to kill the invasive lion fish

Upper left corner… this fish kept attacking the camera, haha

September 2, 2018September 2, 2018

The Shark Before the Storm

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Calm weather was predicted – finally! For most of our time in the Bahamas, the Atlantic had pounded the east side of the islands, and therefore the coral reefs, so we hadn’t had the scuba diving opportunities we’d been hoping for. For the next several days, no wind and no waves were expected, so we departed Green Turtle Cay and headed for Moraine Cay. We saw one boat “sailing” that looked like they were sitting still, so we kept the motor running. But even the clang-clang-clang of our motor couldn’t keep us from enjoying the Gatorade-blue water.

Moraine Cay is a private island – you can rent a villa there and have it all to yourself! Or you can purchase it for less than $3 million! There is a fair weather anchorage marked on the charts on the southeast side of the island. Even with the ocean laying flat and looking like a swimming pool, our boat still rocked with the slightest motion of the sea. But we were so excited to take advantage of the calm ocean!

We had a big day planned – snorkeling, fishing, and diving. We took the dinghy out to find the reef in the morning – we couldn’t believe how gorgeous it was! The best part of the reef is smack up against the island and its rocks – we explored some of the outer patches but the reef was less stunning the farther out we went. The reef near the island was dense with coral, with lots of pretty sea fans, reef fish, and hogfish in 10-30 ft of water. Paul even spotted a tuna. Visibility was near 100 feet.

We snorkeled for a while, and when we hopped back into the dinghy, I saw a large silhouette pass beneath us. I hung over the edge of the boat and threw my masked face into the water to see – 4 eagle rays were gracefully swimming past! Paul immediately hopped in after them with the camera.

To scuba dive that afternoon, we picked a spot a little further north on the reef. It was only around 20 feet deep, but there were lots of coral heads and crevices to explore. We were greeted by big angelfish. Paul went to face to face with a curious grouper. For nearly an hour we went up, down, and around the coral heads.

Fish swim among the coral heads at Moraine Cay

When we turned around to head back to the dinghy, Paul pointed to something, his hand in a closed fist. Oh crap, I thought, I cannot for the life of me remember what that means. I didn’t see anything in that direction. I figured we were heading back, so maybe his closed fist was a navigational cue? But the thing was…. Paul kept checking over his shoulder….. and Paul NEVER checks over his shoulder when we’re diving. So nervously, I checked over MY shoulder. Still nothing. Maybe I’m paranoid…. nope, there he goes, looking around again. At this point, I knew what he was looking for, but without confirmation as long as we were under water, I could trick myself into thinking, nahhh, that can’t be it….

“Did you see the shark?” Paul asked as soon as we surfaced, at least 20 minutes later. It was far enough away that he could barely make out its shape, but even at that distance, it looked to be at least 7 feet long and was definitely NOT a nurse shark. The closed fist pointing was a danger signal – oh yeah, now I remember! I requested he hold his hand over his head like a fin to signal shark from now on! “People just don’t realize that every dive is a shark dive!” he exclaimed.

After that excitement, we took the dinghy out to some other areas for exploration. Eventually we passed into an area that I called conch city! Once we were in less than 10 feet of water, I started to jump in after them. It took us only 20 minutes to limit out. Here’s the thing about conch – they’re just too easy to catch! They poke their cute little snail-like eyes out of the shell, stare at you in fear, tuck the eyes back into their shell and start to run – at a pace of about 2 ft/minute. It just makes me feel guilty!

The next morning we did some fishing, but only got a little snapper that we tossed back. We jumped back in for some more amazing snorkeling. Then we took a walk on the island. Unfortunately, the end of the calm weather was coming, so we motored to Allans-Pensacola to tuck in for a few days.

Paul’s gotten pretty decent at free diving.

On a side note, regarding food in the Bahamas: If those frozen burgers seem unusually and reasonably priced, there is a reason. The reason is that when they say it’s beef with “chicken filler,” they really mean it’s chicken filler with a little beef! They were seriously the grossest burgers I’ve ever tried to stomach. And we bought way too many of them. And with only grocery shopping about every 3 weeks, I knew we had to eat them. They are slightly more tolerable as meatballs than burgers. Just an FYI in case you ever make this mistake too.

Relaxed and not biting my nails… aren’t you proud, mom?!

We spent 5 windy, rainy, stormy days anchored at Allans-Pensacola Cay. We had wanted to explore this uninhabited island more after our short visit early in the trip.

We checked out the maze of trails – the signing tree trail beginning at the “free beer” sign is still the best. We continued our hunt for remnants of the US missile tracking station with some success – we found a set of stairs and what we believe was a radar mount. You can tell it’s been hidden by the brush for a long time because the dates graffitied on it were more than 10 years old.

Matty's Track — One of the many trails – this short one lead to a rocky beach

US military ruins on Allans-Pensacola – and unfortunately the visitor trash dump

Head east from the signing tree – this marks the barely-there path to the ruins

Possibly a radar mount from the US missile tracking station

Two Bahamian guys had towed a big, motor-less powerboat onto the beach. They were camping in it while they conched and fished. They told us there are at least 2 wells on the island. They let us take a photo with the huge sea turtle skull they found elsewhere on the island.

We met some American powerboaters who invited us to their bonfire that was later cancelled due to rain, so when they were gone the next day, we made our rounds to invite everyone else in the anchorage to “our” bonfire. We had limited success – 3 boats didn’t answer our “ahoys” – but we did get invited aboard one boat by a couple who were only briefly in the Bahamas but the boyfriend had been living on his boat for 18 years. We had some beers and some laughs, but the guy had too much pre-dinner tequila so they didn’t make it to the bonfire.

We were thrilled that another boat did join us on the beach once the fire was lit – the owners were fellow Tennesseans who had just bought their catamaran and had a captain along to help them learn the ropes of their new boat. The captain, who was younger us than us, had worked in Andros and Florida, so she was full of good information about diving in the Bahamas and the Florida Keys. We put out the fire just as the rain was setting in, and we got soaking wet trying to unload the dinghy. My logbook notes about that night say, “Paul was happy and singing rap songs” as we scurried through the rain, so I guess we were having fun!

My other note says, “Paul said the wind howled overnight, but I slept like a baby. Luckily this is a very calm anchorage.” Well, in this case, I spoke too soon….

Watching the next storm roll over Allans-Pensacola Cay

When people express their worries about our trip, it usually involves sharks, or pirates, or the Bermuda triangle. However, my worry has been dragging anchor in the middle of the night during a storm, close to land, and having to be on deck of our metal boat with lightning striking.

After dark the next night, a thunderstorm set in. The wind suddenly picked up over 20 knots and our boat swung rapidly, putting us 180 degrees from where we’d first anchored days earlier. My eyes shot to the chartplotter. The alarm hadn’t even been triggered yet, but I knew: “We’re dragging!” I yelled to Paul. We were only a few hundred feet from the shallows and the boat was quickly picking up speed.

Instantly we sprang into action. Somehow, in the time it took Paul to start the engine, I managed to don shoes and padded gloves and got up on deck, trying to avoid contact with the metal as much as possible. In reality I have no idea if this would really help should lightning strike (Paul insists it wouldn’t do much), but I shouted to Paul to put on some shoes, when I saw that he was already at the helm – wearing only his boxers and sitting directly in a puddle of water on the metal seat.

I ran to the windlass and furiously pumped the handle back and forth, raising the anchor with record speed. When I saw lightning apparently strike the water miles off, I honestly screamed, “I don’t want to die!”

“The faster you go the sooner we get out of this shit!” Paul yelled back. Once the anchor was up, Paul drove forward, carefully, in pitch black with only the GPS and his memories of where the rocks lay for a guide. Paul aimed for a sandy spot in very shallow water. When there was only a foot of water left under the boat, he gave the command and I dropped the anchor with gusto. The boat drifted sideways for a nerve-wracking stretch of time until the anchor bit, and then our boat swung into line – and held! It was a miracle – this was our 3rd time anchoring here but the only time the anchor had set on the first attempt.

The “C” shape was our path for several days at anchor. The rest is our path as we popped loose, drove away from the shallows, and reset the anchor.

We looked around the anchorage and could tell by the lights and the crew on deck that some of the 8 other boats were dragging too, but there was no risk of collisions as long as the wind direction stayed relatively steady. We were setting alarms to wake up and check on things, when I saw a message from Other Paul, who was back in Florida. Florida had just been hit with 35 knot winds and boat-damaging waterspouts, and it was heading our way.

My adrenaline was still kicking from resetting the anchor in the storm. Now my mind started racing over what we should do to prepare for dragging again. Paul insisted that I was being overly fearful and there was nothing to prepare because there wasn’t much else we could do besides what we’d already done. To begin with, it was unlikely that we’d drag again. If we did and our anchor wouldn’t reset, we’d either end up aground, hopefully on the sandy beach, or be trying to motor out of the anchorage into the spacious Sea of Abaco. We would not be tossing in our second anchor (Fortress FX- 37), which is what I was asking about, because it would be harder to raise if needed, would risk tangling the other anchor, and stood almost no chance of setting in the grassy bottom. What he said made sense to me, but I could not convince myself that doing nothing was the best plan. What about just in case? It turned into a pretty fierce argument.

Finally, under the principle of having to give a panicked person something to do, Paul told me to ready the anchor as long as I promised not to throw it in the water under any circumstances. I debated if I should even bother, knowing he said this just to stop the argument. But thinking better safe than sorry I did it anyway, and I tried to think through what other actions I could take to prepare.

I checked the Facebook sailing groups to validate the forecast, and there were rumors that Chris Parker was predicting 40-70 knot winds (46-80 mph – yes land lubbers, Cat 1 hurricane starts at 74 mph). This was crazy! There was nothing but minor thunderstorms in the earlier forecasts (this was also months ago, so it was well before hurricane season if you were wondering). Once I saw that forecast, I knew then I wouldn’t be sleeping.

I stowed some of the sails below so they wouldn’t get shredded in high winds and to reduce windage. I closed the galley and head seacocks to prevent taking on water if the boat were to end up sideways in the shallows (though Paul later explained that our boat is set up so this wouldn’t be a problem like it is on many other boats).

Ultimately, this was the worst night on the boat – not because of the weather, but because Paul and I will never see eye-to-eye on what happened that night. We fell from our most glorious moment of teamwork into the ugliest moments of discord. He saw me as panicked and irrational. I later admitted that I was afraid (of course!) but I felt I was logically thinking through possibilities. I saw him as careless while he felt he had thought through the facts and had the most realistic plan.

In Paul’s defense he remained calm throughout the night. Actually, I think he slept a little too well. In later discussions he said simply, “We weren’t prepared for hurricane force winds and there was nothing we could do in that anchorage that we hadn’t already done to be prepared for that”.

Paul’s take on the situation was this:

It was a sort of checkmate scenario we were staring down. Several boats and shallow waters made making our way out of the anchorage in the dark highly risky at best. Even if we could make it out, there were no other anchorages around that we could navigate into at night offering better protection. Furthermore, our boat doesn’t have the engine power to make headway against 30+, knots severely limiting our options if we did go out into the narrow Sea of Abaco. In reality, we had the anchor dug in hard and deployed with the absolute maximum amount of chain we could deploy without putting ourselves on the beach. If the winds really hit with hurricane forces and our anchor gave out, we probably would have been on the beach before we could do anything about it. I knew that on land we would be wet and miserable but safe. There would be no need for the life raft, no weeks spent adrift at sea, no treacherous reef to tear us to pieces. Just a sandy beach and knee deep waters to wade through to get to safety. Knowing that if the worst happened we would be safe was enough for me, even if it meant we might lose the boat in the process. It was a freak storm well beyond what forecasts were calling for. We didn’t do anything wrong, but somehow we were out of good options and left only with the choice to take the least bad option.

I stayed awake until 3:30 am, and then I woke up every hour until sunrise, waiting for the winds to come.

Thankfully they never came.