May 2017

In which we finish our voyage through the Caribbean and make a dash for the U.S. coast.

Mayday 2017 was started at Black point, Exhumas. We had wandered ashore the previous evening for a recce, and now returned for some shopping. The supermarket provided basic provisions, though after picking our goods, we had to search for the owner to make a payment – presumably shoplifting is not a problem here. Our search for bread took us to a domestic kitchen, where half a dozen fresh loaves were just being turned out from the oven. Delicious!

It was only about 6 miles in direct line to our next destination, but that was doubled by the need to navigate around shallows. Staniel Cay is one of the signature destinations in the Exumas, with a fancy marina and tourist attractions. Following a narrow (unmarked) channel led is to an anchorage between the former and one of the latter. We dinghied ashore and parked at the marina’s beach for a wander round the town and top-up of our local SIM card. Elsie was fascinated by the fish cleaning station opposite the beach where there were half a dozen nurse sharks circling, close enough to touch in the shallow water. We tried to pay for use of the facility by buying a beer at the bar but after 15 minutes of trying to catch the eye of a barman who was studying the contents of his till, we gave up and returned to Ruby.

The main attraction at Staniel Cay is Thunderball Grotto, where the famous James Bond scene was set. It is only accessible through one of several small openings at water level and at low slack water. This occurred at 18:30, so we were probably better off not having had a beer. We dinghied over, but could not spot the entrance on the side nearest us so went round and I had an initial recce. As Elsie is unable to climb back into the dinghy from the water, we were worried that she would have to miss out, but the other entrance was easily found from inside and we both went in. It is truly remarkable – a huge natural dome, lit both by a skylight opening and by the blue glow coming from the water gates, crystal clear water with shoals of fish begging for scraps. Elsie was able to exit on the eastern side and swim back to Ruby, passing what she said was the best coral reef she had yet seen, and I recovered by dinghy.

Swimming pig, Big Majors Spot

The following morning, we dinghied out to Big Majors Island for the other attraction, the pigs. These have been trained to swim out to dinghies and beg for scraps. They in turn are training the boaters by, mostly, standing in the shallows and waiting for the dinghies to come to them but, nonetheless, it is one of those must-do things. By the time we had done another small provisioning and got ourselves ready, it was nearly mid-day. We only had about 20 miles to our next destination but, with light winds, we would have had to motor so, instead, just sailed 10 miles up to Bell Island. This is owned by the Aga Khan and we would not be welcomed ashore but we found a pleasant anchorage, out of sight of developments and, once the jet-skis and other toys had been put away, had a very peaceful night. Our chosen anchorage was next to the ‘runway’ for the seaplane, which arrived and departed a couple of times during our stay.

Next, it was on to Warderick Wells, a National Park site and one of the jewels of the Exumas. There are several mooring fields (anchoring is discouraged) and we were fortunate to get a mooring right next to park headquarters in the northern field. The whole island is beautiful, with rough, but well marked trails leading through scrub to wonderful sandy beaches, each with just one picnic table. The first afternoon, we climbed Boohoo Hill where, supposedly, the moans of shipwrecked mariners can be heard in the night, to place a piece of driftwood with our boat’s name on it, along with hundreds of others, as an offering to Poseidon. The following day, we dinghied down opposite Emerald Rock and walked from beach to beach, pausing for the occasional dip and then back to butterfly beach, just south of the park office, for me to snorkel round a reef and Elsie to lounge in the shallow water, now almost at blood temperature in the afternoon sun.

Warderick Wells

Ruby leading the fleet

On the 5^th, we let go at 0955 and headed back out to deep water to cross to the next major island group, Eluthera. We headed for Rock Sound, an almost totally enclosed bay a few miles in diameter but only about 3 metres deep. We had a S’ly F3-4 for the crossing, which gave us a fine broad reach but, as the wind was forecast to turn NW’ly in the night, we anchored on the Western side, just north of Deucey Rocks. This gave us nice shelter but the water was cloudier than we had become used to which meant that the bottom scrub that I spent the 6^th doing was not as easy or enjoyable as I had hoped. On the 7^th, the wind changed back to the usual easterly quadrant and we crossed the bay to join a fellow Cruising Association member, Tourterelle, and explore the town. This is prosperous but un-touristy, the main attraction being a 600 ft deep hole which connects to the ocean. We found a good supermarket and were able to get free water near the beach to keep our tanks going. The weather forecast looked good for us to stay until the weekend, sail up to Spanish Wells, at the north end of the group and then have a good passage across to Charleston, our first planned stop in the United States.

Rock Sound

Just when things could hardly get better, they suddenly get worse. It was the 3^rd anniversary of my being admitted for a major operation for cancer of the jaw and we were congratulating orselves on how well it had turned out. That evening, having a routine check round the area of my operation, I found that a salivary gland was enlarged. The next day, with no change, I confided in Elsie. We found a local doctor who agreed that it would be wise to see a specialist and we suddenly had a new objective – to get me back to Scotland ASAP. Major consultations of the internet showed that the best plan was to fly from Orlando to Glasgow at the weekend. The weather forecast showed that we could cross to the U.S. safely but slowly so we could expect to have to motor a lot of the way.

Up at first light on 9^th and, with detour into Cape Eluthera Marina for fuel, we motor sailed the length of Eluthera Bank, exiting at Fleeming Channel, then North round the End of the Abacos to Green Turtle Cay, arriving at 1230. We needed to book out of the Bahamas and this should have been the easiest place so, after a quick lunch, we dinghied ashore only to find that it was election day and the office was closed. I spoke to the Customs officer by phone and she confirmed that I need to book out in person. Another phone call to the next island, Spanish Cay, told us that there would be an officer on duty at 08:30 the following morning. This would also be a good place to top up on fuel, so we picked up anchor and motored 3 more hours. Bright and early, we tied up at the fuel dock, topped up and asked if we could stay while I complete formalities. No. The officer had not yet arrived and other boats needed fuel, so we moved berth. (Feeling a bit stressed by now, this was not a pretty manoeuvre). Finally, at 11:30 the officer arrived and informed me that all she needed was our personal departure cards which we had completed the day before and could have posted through her door. Grrrr.

Away at 12:10 and, after exciting the bank at Maraine Cay set course for Saint Augustine, 270 miles away. The weather was as before, benign but with too little wind to make good speed so it was alternate Sailing, motor-sailing and motoring, to keep the average above 5.5 knots to make our target of mid-day on the 13^th. We were hoping for a push up the coast from the Gulf stream but, when we got to where we expected to find it on the 12th, we only gained about a knot. We kept angling across, a little wary of finding a coastal counter-current and then, in the middle of the night, Elsie found the core and was able to exceed 10 knots across the ground in a force 3. This meant that we now arrived 3 hours early at the fairway buoy, as our booked marina berth was not available until 11:00. We could hear that there were no available mooring buoys and I was a little dubious as to whether we could find anchoring space inside so we just hove to until it was time to enter. We made the 11:00 opening of the Bridge of Lions and tied up at the city marina 10 minuted later. I will let you read Elsie’s account of the rest of our stay here. For my part, I flew back to Scotland, to be told that there was nothing to worry about and the inflammation was probably just caused by de-hydration (possibly while bottom scrubbing?) so lots of money, effort and disruption for no purpose than re-assurance which, on reflection, probably makes it good value.

On return to Orlando, I was collected by Ian Gault, an old work colleague from Shetland , who has moved here. His wife, Lauren, had been looking after Elsie in my absence and we spent much of the next week in their company with a couple of sleep-overs at their house on Vilano beach. We had to wait a few days for good sailing winds but, when they did come, they were very good. The Gault family joined us on the morning of the 25^th and we let go our mooring at 0900 and headed out into a W’ly 4-5 which took us up almost all the way to Charleston. The arrival could have been better for the tides and we took nearly 2 hours to motor up the fairway to the city marina, where we had booked our first night as, again, the anchorages near the city did not get good reviews. In fact, the one opposite the marina looked fine and, as it cost $86 to park alongside, we moved out the next morning.

Again, it looked as though we would have to wait a few days to get a sailing wind to take us on our next leg, up to Cape Lookout, N.C. or, better still, all the way to Norfolk, Virginia. This was not a problem as we had a nice anchorage and not only was it Memorial Day weekend, there was a huge arts festival on and we had endless entertainments to choose from. Charleston is, of itself, a beautiful city with the centre almost completely composed of old buildings, many of which date from back before the Civil War and many others made to look as though they do. They have the characteristic southern wooden exterior with huge balconies. Typically, they have a modest street frontage but are stretched 2 or 3 times as deep. The temperature was in the mid 30s C and humidity was high which meant that shade need to be sought in the middle of the day but we had many walks early and late round the old town. We also managed to take in a few musical events: the Memorial Day concert in Marion Square (very patriotic, of course with everything from the Gettysburg Address to ‘Stars and Stripes forever, including a bit of Disney in the middle); a blues brunch and an afternoon of Charleston themed music, from the origins of the St Cecilia Society, through Civil War songs, Spirituals and Gershwin to Amazing Grace, apparently inspired by a visit to the city. I say there was no problem with the delay but our insurance for named storms below N35 expires at the end of the month and we still see no definite window for progress. Fingers crossed.

Monthly miles across ground: 735.    

April 2017

In which we voyage from the Lesser Antilles to the Bahamas

We were the April fools - we started the month with a blocked sewage system. Many boaters follow the Mediterranean practice of binning used toilet tissue, rather than flushing it. We flush, but make sure that it is of the type that dissolves instantly when wet. Apart from this time, when we failed to check a new supply and paid the price of a messy dismantling and re-assembly job (which confirmed that we are due for a thorough de-scale of the system) before we could get on with the rest of our day. We dinghied ashore in Dewey, topping up petrol for the outboard and a bit of provisioning for us followed by a stroll round the town. There was disappointment that the Dinghy Dock Restaurant no longer served breakfasts on Sunday, one of our planned reasons for visiting, but so it goes. Opening mail, that afternoon, I got the latest newsletter from the Cruising Association, including the winners of 2016 log competition. Disappointment on seeing that we had not, as we thought won the Lacey Trophy for best blog turned to amazement that we had actually won the Hanson Cup, the overall ‘best in show’.

After an on-board breakfast on the 2^nd, we headed out and round to the south west end of Culebra. We were hoping to anchor in the lee of Cayo Louis Pena, but there was too much north in the wind to make this comfortable so we headed back a couple of miles to Bahia Tamborendo and picked up a mooring buoy in the eastern part of this very scenic bay with crystal clear water and an easily reached reef to snorkel on. The buoys are marked as day use only, but chatting to others confirmed that they are commonly used overnight and as the wind was, by now, very light, that’s what we did. There was a north easterly F4 on the Monday and we took advantage with a perfect beam reach down to the eastern tip of Vieques. It was only 12 miles on this leg but it was great to remind ourselves what fun sailing in these conditions can be and how well Ruby moves when let off the leash. We rounded the tip of the island and sailed up to Salinas bay. This part of the island was used for many years by the U.S. military for making loud noises, and earlier information was that there was unexploded ordinance on the bottom. The warnings for this have been removed, but I still put my fingers in my ears as Elsie lowered the anchor, just in case. We snorkelled almost to shore (notices still prohibit landing) and the bottom was clear over the centre but littered with the twisted remains of vessels used as targets in the shallows, which provided new reef homes for much sea life. After our swim in this sandy bay, we picked up again and headed a few further miles west to Ensenada Honda, a complete contrast. It is a huge, shallow, muddy lagoon, surrounded by mangrove swamp with many winding inlets which provide hurricane refuge for half the small craft in the Virgin Islands and Puerto Rico in the season. At this time of year it is deserted. Interesting, but a little smelly and mosquito infested, so we forwent our morning dip the next day, even though we had only a few miles to go. We were woken on the 4^th by the sound of artillery, proving that the military haven’t completely given up playing, and proceeded to Puerto Ferro, which was reputed to have spectacular bio-luminescence. We had read reports of spectacular night swims and wanted to see. The moon was in first quarter, which meant that it didn’t get fully dark until after midnight. We tried making splashes with the boathook, with no result so, as it was just as smelly as the previous night, we didn’t leap in.

Having been in the wilds for a few nights, it was time for a contrast and we set off early on the 5^th for Puerto del Rey on the east coast of Puerto Rico to replenish water, battery electricity and provisions. It is the largest marina in the Caribbean with 700 berths, mostly occupied by pleasure fishing boats. Not our usual habitat, but pleasant for a change. Elsie caught up on the laundry on the first evening and, while it was washing, luxuriated in a shower where she wouldn’t be nagged if she left the water running for more than 30 seconds and could take as long as she liked washing her hair. I rigged up a new electrical connection, to fit American supply and booked a hire car to see a bit of the island and do some shopping. On the 6^th, we stayed locally, provisioning and getting a new U.S. Navionics card for our chart plotter, to replace one that I had brought in the U.K. and didn’t work. This one didn’t either, so went back.

El Yunque rain forest

On the 7^th, we were more adventurous and went, first, up into the hills to see the El Yunque rain forest. This was well worth the drive, with spectacular views (although the waterfalls were mere trickles in this season) and rich vegetation and wildlife. We even saw an eagle soar away from a nearby tree up to the clouds. The rest of the day was not so successful. It was only 40 miles to the capital, San Juan, so we figured that we could pop in here; buy a cruising guide to the Bahamas which we had located on-line; have a wander round the old town and still have time to go 30 miles south and take the tourist route back home. It would have cost an extra $16 for access to the toll roads for the day, but declined the option. This was a serious error. The free highway was atrocious, with traffic lights every few hundred metres and frequent jams. It took nearly 2 hours to get into town and find the store and, on setting off south it was worse. After another 90 minutes we found ourselves on the wrong road and headed back to base. The morning of the 8^th was spent driving to the customs house in Fajardo to get an exit clearance. This is not required by the U.S. authorities, but we knew we would be asked to present on arrival in Turks and Caicos, our next destination.

Ever since arrival in Puerto Rico, we had been watching the weather forecast closely. The next leg was about 360 miles, heading north west and should have been a doddle, as we were still in the trade wind belt but, as soon as we had committed to the marina, the weather pattern had changed to, mostly, light airs, with occasional westerlies. We got a glimmer of hope that the usual pattern would be resuming next week so, in the afternoon, we topped up the fuel and headed 3 miles north to anchor in the lee of Caya Obispo, just opposite the customs house where we had been a few hours earlier. We spent a happy Sunday here, de-scaling sani piping and watching an Australian catamaran make over 12 attempts to anchor, mostly in areas where there are warnings of submarine cables. We mentioned this to them in a friendly way as they wandered past us in the midst of their travails and the agreed that they had seen this on the ‘map’. A final check of the weather on Monday morning confirmed that we would, after an initial light wind area close to the coast, have easterly 15-20 knot winds all the way and our planning programme told us that we would take about 2 ¼ days for the passage. We had set up lines for downwind sailing the night before so it was with a song in the heart that we heaved up anchor at 0800 and headed off north.

The first part of the forecast was correct - we did have light winds near the coast. After 2 hours, we encountered 10 knots from the north. We could deal with that and set full sail only to have it die a couple of hours later and force us to motor again. At 1400 an easterly wind sprang up, initially F3, then F4. Hurrah! Full main and poled out genoa and we were on our way. The wind slowly backed: ENE; NE; NNE, forcing us to shorten the amount of genoa so it wasn’t fouling the pole. Not ideal, as the strength was also decreasing but we were confident that we would need the pole when the forecast wind finally steadied. As the evening progressed, thunder storms started appearing behind us and I put on the radar to check that no cells were coming near. At 2200, with nothing showing within 15 miles, the wind increased to 15 knots, making me prepare to put a reef in the main. Within a minute, it was over 20 so 2 reefs it was. I had to winch in harder than usual and then realised that I had caught the tail of the sail bag zip in the reefing line and damaged it. By 0400, it was back to light easterlies and Elsie was motoring. It was alternate motor and sail for the next 12 hours, pole now stowed in disgust. Finally the wind settled between NE and N and we were able to sail, although on a close, rather than broad reach. I had cancelled our satellite phone subscription on arrival in Barbados – we were not planning any voyages over 72 hours for the foreseeable future and forecasts obtained before departure are usually reliable enough over that period. We now regretted not being able to get an update but, when we finally got 3G reception off the coast of Grand Turk, Passage Weather was still advising us that the wind was 90 degrees away from that we were experiencing.

Our destination, on the west coast of Grand Turk is well sheltered from the forecast easterly wind but totally exposed to the north. There is another anchorage a few miles further south but that would be untenable if the wind changed to east or south. With no reliable forecast, we made the decision to continue to Provinciales, at the north west corner of Caicos where we could find shelter from any direction of wind. Caicos is, in effect, a huge coral atoll with a lagoon measuring 30 X 50 miles. Nowhere is it more than 5 metres deep; much is less than 2 metres, with frequent coral heads and most is unsurveyed. This is totally new to us and, being tired from our passage, we elected to motor, rather than sail, to our destination, Sapodilla bay on Provodenciales. This took over 2 hours, with me closely monitoring the chart plotter and Elsie in the bow checking for uncharted shallows or coral heads. We finally dropped anchor in 3 metres of clear water at 1730.

Sapodilla bay

We were too late to clear in that evening but dinghied into the commercial port the next morning. Customs officer was in attendance but not immigration. We understood that clearance was free but, since that information was printed, they now charge $50 for customs clearance in and out, plus $15 overtime as it was Good Friday. When the immigration man finally appeared, he charged us a further $30. The customs man did, however, give us a lift to the supermarket, a few miles away. This was surprisingly well stocked and not outrageously expensive. We returned using a jitney (unlicenced taxi). The wind was forecast to be ENE F5 for the next couple of days, which would have made progress uncomfortable so we elected to stay put and get value for our $160 clearance fees.

On leaving, on the 17^th, we plucked up the courage to sail the 10 miles to the exit point, using just the genoa, as we were almost directly downwind. Once clear, we hoisted the main, with 2 reefs and had a fine beam reach in a NE’ly F5 up to Abrahams Bay, our entry point for the Bahamas and dropped anchor at 1600 in the ‘Town Anchorage’ at the eastern end. If this gives the impression of beach bars and bright lights, think again. The only sign of human occupation was the Bahamas Telecom tower and a couple of huts near the government dock. The following morning, we dinghied to this. The approach is marked by just a couple of poles and we had fun weaving our way through sandbanks to get in. The settlement, a few hundred metres inland, consists of an administration building, where we checked in, requiring the filling in of 6 forms, together with a payment of $300 (cash only); a BTC store, where we got a local sim card; a basic provisions store and a couple of houses. Formalities complete, it was too late to set of on the next leg but we did motor slowly to the western end of the bay, to be ready for an early start.  Elsie had spotted a yacht here but, as we approached, it became clear that it was aground on the reef having, apparently come from sea-wards.  The sails seemed intact, so it was probably recent.  Sobering.

[Edit.  We later discovered that it belonged to a solo sailor, who slept through his alarm and woke when he struck the reef. He got off unharmed, but the boat was not so lucky]

The wind, on the 19^th, was forecast to be ENE F5 so, once clear of shallows, we hoisted a well reefed main and ¾ genoa to broad reach to the northen tip of Aklins island. Unfortunately, it was just 20 degrees veered from forecast, meaning that we had difficulty keeping the sails filled and, as we had plenty of time, we put the main away and continued under full genoa, past the Plana cays. The entrance to our destination, Attwood harbour, is marked by umbrella rock, so called because it is severely undercut all-round (looks more like a mushroom to me). This stands out black against a pale shore. Once past 2 guarding reefs, the horseshoe shaped bay is wide open with acres of clear sand in shallow water to anchor in. We had it all to ourselves and, a few moths ago, we would have been in raptures but we must be getting blasé as we just accepted the beauty as our right.

 Remains of palm trees, Rum Cay

Former marina entrance, Rum Cay

We had a longer leg on the 20^th: 77 miles up to Port Nelson on Rum Cay. Fortunately, the weather was perfect, with a NE’ly F4 giving us a 7 knot beam reach all the way and we dropped anchor in another perfect bay with half an hour to spare before sunset. Rum Cay was devastated by 2 hurricanes in 2015. Amongst the damage was a sandbar being thrown up across the entrance to the only marina, trapping a few yachts and fishing boats inside; they still remain there. We dinghied ashore in the morning to have a look and managed to find a food store which provided some frozen minced beef and eggs to feed us until we got to ‘civilisation’. In the afternoon, we had a gentle sail up to Conception Island, another contender for the title of ‘World’s most beautiful beach’. There was a large motor yacht anchored in prime position, accompanied by all the toys: tender, RIBs, jet-skis and we anchored as far away as was possible. Fortunately, by the time we rose on the 22^nd, he was away and so we had the entire island to ourselves. We had read the night before of a private island in the Bahamas available for hire at $39,000 per day, minimum 4 days. This made our $300 cruising permit look like reasonable value. We dinghied ashore and walked the length of the beach and found a footpath across a narrow isthmus to a smaller but equally beautiful beach on the windward side. The land is covered with low vegetation, including a very spiky burr and previous trippers had thoughtfully collected any washed up shoes, flip-flops, etc. to protect the feet of those who followed. Bizarrely, only left-footed footware was available so the selection looked like the wares of a very down-market shoe shop. Another dinghy trip in the afternoon took us to the reef at the northern end of the beach which provided some very good snorkelling. While we were at this, another 2 yachts arrived but we allowed that we had had our share.

Conception Island

World's worst shoe shop?

An early start on the 23^rd, for the 50 mile leg to Georgetown on Exuma. We were blessed with a ESE’ly F4 which gave us a good beam reach all the way to the western entrance. We chose this as, although it is shallower than the eastern approach, it looked like slightly easier navigation. It did mean that we had to motor 5 miles into wind, but this seemed a price worth paying as the Navionics charts on our plotter are unreliable in this area and the supplementary, waveyline, ones on my phone were extremely difficult to use. Georgetown harbour is is a huge anchorage which is the winter home of many ‘snowbirds’ from the U.S. as well as being a staging post for those transiting to or from the Caribbean. There are frequently over 200 anchored yachts and we were concerned that finding a good spot might be difficult. It transpired to be very easy – there was an area just deep enough close to the dinghy landing area, Lake Victoria, totally unoccupied. Tentative drop of the hook and a re-read of all available charts and guides confirmed that we could stay. Even better was the fact that it would provide excellent protection from expected southerly winds the following day.

A front passed in the night, with brief but heavy showers. Listening to the daily ‘cruisers net’ the following morning revealed that at Eleuthera, 100 miles to the NW, the front had brought winds in excess of 100 knots, causing several boats to drag or lose canvas. This was very worrying – not only were we going to be heading that way but we had known about the front and done nothing more than put out an extra 10 metres of anchor chain, just for luck. No way were we prepared for severe hurricane force winds. (The following day, it transpired that someone had confused units – winds had peaked at over 100 kilometers per hour. Still not nice but we would have coped). The net also revealed that on the Wednesday, there was to be a regatta of local craft with their locus being just where we were parked, which might have explained its apparent availability. We reckoned to take advantage while we could and made the first of several dinghy trips into Lake Victoria, tying up to a dock, provided by the local supermarket, with a free water tap. This is something not often encountered in this area and we took full advantage, as did many others. Over the next 2 days we made 6 visits and topped up our tanks, 50 litres at a time. We also managed to get a camping gas cylinder re-filled, possibly the last time we can do this as such European things are not accommodated in the States, and stocked up on provisions. We moved to another anchorage, a little further away on the Monday afternoon.

Georgetown regatta

We planned to move on on Wednesday morning and, after the last dinghy trip on Tuesday, we stowed Rubette, then realised that we were moving into a cash only area, the next bank was, maybe, 10 days away and we only had $100 dollars of folding money. Damn. Dinghy back down in the morning and first in the queue for the ATM at 09:30. We heaved up anchor just after 10 and passed the first race of the regatta on our way out.

The Exumas are one of several ‘super atolls’ in the Bahamas. There is a 120 mile long chain of islands running roughly NW / SE, with narrow cuts between and a huge area of shallow water to the SW. Although there is only about 1 metre rise of tide, the narrowness of the cuts means that currents run very strongly in them and it is wise to only pass through at slack water. The first cut that we could enter was about 30 miles away and, on our original plan, we could have made it for afternoon low water. Our delay meant that was now not possible so we headed for one at half distance, at Glass Cay. Here, we found a reasonable anchorage in the lee of Black Cay and settled for the night. Our next destination being only 15 miles away presented us with a dilemma – it was too far to go in the period around one slack water and, with a20 knot following wind, ridiculously close to spend 5 hours over. We solved this by, on exiting the following morning, hoisting a reefed main and ¾ genoa and having a fun sail 15 miles offshore and back on broad reaches. We still arrived at Rudder Cut 30 minutes before low water but proceeded in anyway. After experiencing the waters around Orkney and Shetland it proved not to be too scary and we proceeded a mile or so west inside to anchor. Had we been keen, we could have accomplished our mission here right then – launched the dinghy and gone to have a look at an underwater sculpture of a mermaid playing a piano, commissioned by the illusionist David Copperfield, but decided to relax instead. We continued that theme the following morning, with just a little trip to the top of the mast for me to check that all was well up there. In the afternoon, we made the dinghy trip to the sculpture and continued on a little tour to look at caves and the jagged coast.

Umbrella rock, Rudder Cut Cay

The first decision, on the 29^th, was ‘outside or inside’. To get to our next destination, Little Farmers Cay, was only about 5 miles. There is an inshore passage but it is fairly shoal for about one of those miles and having experienced the cut yesterday, we decided that it would be safer to out and in again and that could be accomplished in one tide. We followed the advice in the cruising guide and planned the unknown cut for one hour after high water, when it should be slack water. The advice proved to be wrong. As we approached the cut, we could see that there were standing waves from the ebb and, with the wind behind us, breaking seas. We judged it to be safe, and it was, but a very uncomfortable few minutes until we were in the smooth water inside. The next decision was where to anchor. There was a small bay just inside, with room for one, but that was taken. There is the channel to the north with room to anchor, but reportedly dodgy holding in strong current and moorings, of questionable quality. The third choice was to go round the back of the island to a large, deep enough, area with good holding. The only problem was crossing a sand bar but all 3 of my charting options gave this as no shallower than 1.6 metres and we should have about 0.6 metres of tide to see us safely over. We saw 1.8 on the echo sounder but made it in. As I went, I dropped a series of waypoint breadcrumbs to ensure that I could get back exactly the same way. Anchor down at 1245, opposite Ty’s Sunset bar and grill, one of several recommended eating establishments and we quickly launched Rubette, with a view to treating ourselves to a conch salad lunch.

Little Farmers Cay is billed as an ideal Bahamian settlement but, unfortunately, it was closed. It seems that all activity in the area had moved to Georgetown for the regatta. A notice on Ty’s said that he would be back on Monday. The owner of the Ocean Cabin did look up from his lunch to tell us that he was not serving and we walked up to the yacht club which was just closing due to lack of custom. No, he couldn’t do conch but fish was possible. 2 of those, please. 40 minutes later, 2 very sad plates of frozen, battered cod appeared with straw fries. Oh dear, never mind. We did manage to pick up a couple of slices of very nice coconut tart from the bakers and had them for pudding that evening.

To leave, on the 30^th, we had to weave our way back the way we had come and then continue, inside up to Black point. We picked up one hour before high water and headed south on my marked track. Slowly, slowly over the bar but, within 10 metres of a mark we touched bottom and held fast. Elsie, keeping lookout on the bow, quickly dropped the anchor, with just 10 metres of chain, both to mark our position and to stop us drifting further on to the shoal. As it bit, and swung our bow into the current, I powered ahead and we managed to free ourselves and continue but it was a very worrying couple of minutes. A further hour of motoring through shallows and then we crossed the last sandbar into deep water – over 4 metres! We put out the genoa and sailed another 15 miles up to Black point, The second largest settlement in the Exumas. This was also closed, but they had the excuse of it being Sunday and, as we watched, a small cargo boat arrived and discharged the local racing fleet, back from the regatta.

Black point boat.  Ready for next year's regatta?

We dinghied ashore on Sunday afternoon, with the promise of free water from a tap near the dock but it was out of order, so contented ourselves with a stroll along the town and back.