April / May 2018

In which we sail back to the East Coast of the U.S.A. to leave Ruby for the summer.

We began April at Elsie’s favourite island – Conception. We didn’t have it to ourselves but it was good to relax after our, more exciting than expected, voyage up from Mathew Town. Just one trip ashore, to walk the beaches and photograph the ‘mashed ship’ that I had spotted last time here.

Mashed ship

A period of calm was coming up and we decided to make our way towards another favourite spot to wait it out there. On Monday 2nd, we heaved up at 0830 and headed towards the bottom of Cat Island on a broad reach. Up past Hawks Nest point and then close hauled across The Bight to Fernandez bay. Elsie took charge for the day and enjoyed an unofficial race with another boat, who changed his mind and went up to New Bight instead. On arrival we found a beautifully sheltered spot for the night, moving a mile up the coast the following morning to dinghy into Smith’s Harbour for provisions. There was conflicting advice about the state of the harbour but we could easily have brought Ruby in and, maybe Med Moored to the dock. Back on board, we had a fine beam reach up past Alligator point then close hauled into Bennet’s Harbour for a relaxing afternoon. On the 4^th, we had a short sail up to Orange Creek, anchoring close to the town and dinghying in. The entrance has strong currents and was a bit splashy but we were delighted to find that our chosen landing spot was directly opposite the store which was not only well provisioned but were able to fill our cooking gas tank and let us get our laundry done. A well spent afternoon.

In the morning, we motored a mile or so away along the coast, just for the privacy. Later that afternoon, I spotted a local walking his boat along the beach, took pity on him and gave him a tow back to base. We then went ashore for one of our favourite walks, though we were aggravated to find one other person on our private 2 mile beach. Friday the 6^th gave only light winds, so we stayed put for another lazy day then, on Saturday morning we heaved up and broad reached back to Little San Salvador under main and cruising chute in a southerly F3. Our ‘usual’ anchorage at the north of Half Moon Bay was pretty rolly in this wind but today’s cruise ship obligingly left at 15:00 so we scuttled across to the southern side for a comfortable berth, dinghy ashore and walk along the beach.

Beach cabanas at half moon bay

Our next planned stop was Highbourn Cay at the top of the Exumas. There are strong currents at the entrance so wanted to make it near the high water slack in the middle of the day. To do this, we planned for a 5 O’clock departure. As we were both awake at 3, we brought this forward and were underway at 03:30. A northerly wind had been forecast for overnight but this changed so we decided to anchor in the north bay, with a big, wide entrance where we could have arrived at any time. Anchor down at 12:20 and a lazy afternoon. Well, it was Elsie’s birthday! We were away again at 08:00 on the 9^th, heading for Nassau. The plan was to cruise through the harbour and anchor in a bay to the west but we made such good speed under main and chute that we decided to anchor in the harbour, opposite the excrescences of Paradise Island and have a wander ashore. We walked up to the cruise ship terminal for a gawk and an ice cream and then back to the local’s area to find our first proper supermarket in over 4 months. Elsie was pretty excited at both.

Two boats in Nassaua

Paradise Island, Nassau

Cruise ships

The weather forecast was again changeable so we decided to top up on fuel the following morning before heading out. Today, the wind was disappointing and we made slow progress up the eastern side of the Berry Islands under main and chute, sometimes goose-winged and sometimes broad reaching. Eventually, we motored for a couple of hours to reach Great Harbour Cay, dropping anchor at 1835. I wanted to be well up as anchorages on this side would provide no protection from the northerly and easterly winds forecast for the following 24 hours. As it happened, there was an unforecast front that night with gale force northerly gusts. This caught many by surprise, especially in the Abacos where it went up to 50 knots, causing a few dragged anchors. To find shelter, we picked up at 0800 on the 11^th, sailed up to the top of the islands, past a couple of cruise ships discharging their passengers onto purpose made resorts on Great and Little Stirrup Cays, back down and into Bullock’s Harbour. 22 miles on the log to move 2 miles. The water here was green and the bottom was grassy but the anchor bit first time and I gave it an extra tug to make sure that it was well bedded in.  The wind, for once, behaved exactly as predicted so we spent a comfortable night and rose the following morning ready for a big hop. The hope was to make it in one go to Charleston, S.C., with St Augustine, Fl, as an alternate.

Making 11 knots across the ground, courtesy of the Gulf Stream

Up anchor at 0810 on the 12^th and broad reached away in a F4 easterly, with one reef in the main, heading for the south-west coast of Grand Bahama and the Gulf Stream. By late that evening, we were off Freeport and back in internet coverage to update the weather. This did not give us good news: we could certainly make St Augustine but there was a strong front forecast for Sunday and, if we were late, or it was early, continuing up to Charleston could expose us to some very strong winds. So, the fall-back option was selected. We continued heading north west, to find the Gulf Stream then caught a ride north with a 4 knot assist. By this time, the wind had veered to just south of east and we had an easy motion, with 12-14 knots of wind giving us 6-7 knots though the water and up to 11 knots over the ground. On the evening of the 13^th we, reluctantly, altered course, set the sails for a run, and headed for St Augustine, arriving at the fairway buoy at 0900 on the 14^th and anchoring just below Vilano bridge at 10:15. I spent an hour trying to resurrect our phone SIM from the Autumn, then we caught a water taxi ashore to book in at the airport, get a new Sim and some provisions before getting back on board, very tired at 17:30. A quiet evening was had.

Twister!

We had hoped to spend at least some of Sunday catching up with our local friends, the Gaults, but strong winds were forecast, with a local tornado warning. The winds arrived in the afternoon with a violent frontal passage and a tornado crossed the harbour though, fortunately, not us. Monday and Tuesday looked good for further progress, with a hiatus of a few days after, so we picked up on Monday morning and headed for Charleston. The wind was W’ly F5, which I hoped would give us a good speed with low swell as we were staying within 20 – 30 miles of the coast. We were disappointed as, with the water being only 10 – 15 metres deep, it kicked up an unpleasant short, steep sea. The speed was good but the motion wasn’t. The wind increased to F6 after dark and I put the 3^rd reef in before Elsie’s night watch which was as well. The wind continued increasing and she had F8 for a while. Of course, it dropped and veered in the morning but we managed to sail up to the fairway buoy before starting the long motor, against the current, up to our anchorage opposite the City marina. Having arrived and tidied up, we had another long look at the weather. The forecast had changed and it now looked good(ish) for the next few days with following F3-4 winds. The only problem was in the small print which warned of gusts of up to F7.

After the experiences of the night before, we agreed that this was not a forecast for single watch-keeper night sailing but we worked out a series of day hops. So, on the18th, we picked up anchor at 0700 and motored, against the tide, for 2 hours back to the entrance, passing the isolated anchorage we should have stopped in the day before. Today, the wind behaved and we had a fine goose winged run 45 miles up the coast to Winyah bay, on the approaches to Georgetown. We motor-sailed 3 miles in, naturally against the tide, and anchored in a slightly lumpy spot. Another early start on the 19^th, catching slack water – hurrah – and another goose – winged run up to the little river inlet. There was an anchorage marked just inside the breakwater but the depths we found were less than charted. There was another, 2 miles further on, just across the Inland Coastal Waterway which gave a promise of more shelter from the wind. Another 30 minutes of motoring, look both ways crossing the ICW, into the creek and… slide to a halt. Less water than charted again and, this time, we grounded in soft mud with another foot for the tide to fall. One option was to launch the dinghy, run out anchors, wait for the rising tide and warp ourselves off. The other was to do what the locals do. At the boat show, last October, I had taken out towage insurance with BoatUS for just such an eventuality. A quick phone call and 30 minutes later a large RIB with twin 250 horse outboards arrived. A good briefing from its skipper, towing bridle attached and rescue was underway. He quickly turned us round but it took a further 30 minutes of him sawing back and forth to free and tow us the 5 metres back to deep water, and a further 15 minutes took us back to our original anchorage. This time, I accepted that we would be closer to the marked channel than ideal and dropped the hook 2 hours later than planned.

We had one more day of good sailing weather. The wind was veering to the North but would assist us along this next bit of coast to Cape Fear. Here there is a 30 mile shallow reef extending out to the South East and we were electing to take an inland short cut from Southport to Wilmimgton. Elsie had found us a nice (cheap) marina halfway along this route but it has a shallow entrance and strong cross currents. Sitting with my planning tools, I calculated that, departing at first light, we needed to average 6.5 knots along the coast to catch the tidal streams along the Cape Fear river, so up at 6 and away at 06:40. Unfortunately the wind had veered more than forecast and, instead of it being on the beam, we were close hauled and could only make 5.5 knots in the choppy sea, so the engine was re-started and we motor sailed along, hitting the channel 5 minutes before my target of 11:00. Down with the sails and a 14 mile motor, with following current (and a large container ship), up to Carolina Beach State Park marina. This was a friendly little place, with power (first time we had plugged in for a year) and water (Ruby got a much needed wash-down) included. With a washing machine available at $1 per load it was also time to catch up on laundry so Saturday was a busy day of cleaning. After this we made like the locals and ‘hiked’ along a ‘trail’ through the park.

You've seen house boats; this is a shed boat

A further job for Sunday was end-for-ending the anchor chain. We have had this one in almost constant use for 18 months and the working end is starting to show signs of wear, so I wanted to turn it round and use the other end. When in Conception Island at the start of the month, there were free mooring balls available, crystal clear water and clean sand to lay the chain on and I considered doing the job there but procrastinated. Now, we lowered the anchor onto the pontoon and the chain into the water, swapped ends and started to haul it back in. UGH! I was expecting a bit of mud but this was awful and we had to wash it off, one foot at a time, taking twice as long as the rest of the job. Once finished, we had a final trip to the supermarket and left, just before 3, to make 11 miles further through the cut to poise ourselves for the last leg to Beaufort, whether in- or off-shore. The inshore route would take us 2 days along the ICW, with many bridges and few good anchorages; off shore, although we could do it in one, long, day the forecast was not good with strong Easterlies. We anchored at Wrightsville beach for the night and rose at 7 expecting to motor up to abeam Jacksonville. Looking again at the forecast, it now showed very strong winds for Monday night / Tuesday morning. There was only one suitable anchorage at half distance and this is owned by the military, who reserve the right to kick visitors out at short notice. While we were havering, an un-forecast rain shower arrived and we decided that, as we were well ahead of schedule, to stay in our nice, comfortable spot and have an easy day.

That day was followed by another, as Tuesday morning was, indeed, foul and we saw a possible window for sailing across Onslow Bay on Wednesday. Up at first light and on our way by 0710 in light airs – no matter, we would rather motor in open waters than up the ICW. Two other yachts followed up the mile or so down to the entrance and we thought that we might have a little flotilla but they both turned inland heading for the ditch whether North- or South-bound we could not tell. We had rigged a mainsail preventer to port and the pole to starboard and, by 10:00 the SSW’ly wind had picked up enough for us to goose wing with full sail. It then, conveniently, backed sufficiently for us to broad reach and we made good progress across the bay arriving at the entrance to Moorehead at 17:00 with just a short motor to anchor near Fort Macon. There are strong currents on the section of ICW up to the Neuse river and, with an ebb tide in the morning, there was no point in starting early so we filled Thursday morning with preparations for laying up, including dropping the genoa and tidying away lots of lines etc. We picked up at 14:00 and headed up, motoring. The current was initially with us but, for most of the way, we had about a knot against us, which was a disappointment even though we knew that tides in Pamlico sound are more influenced by wind and rain than the moon.

We arrived at Oriental at 17:45 and headed to the Harbour Marina, where we were, very generously, being lent a berth by fellow OCC members, Don and Dierdre Wogamon. The following morning I headed into town to meet some of the people who would be looking after Ruby and various bits of her over the next few months. First stop was Seacoast Marine electronics where Peter reckoned that he should be able to assist with our VHF, plotter and wind indicator. Next to the boat yard to meet Alan the owner, Dan the fabricator, Travis, the rigger and, of course Tammy who runs the whole operation. Got a very positive response from all and picked a parking spot for Ruby. Then to Inner Banks sails, to discuss sundry canvas work, including a new bimini cover. Finally to Hodges street sails to arrange for repairs to the genoa and a wash for the chute. The latter called round to collect the sails and promised a report in a day or two. Saturday morning, we had a lie-in then a wander round to the farmers’ market (a little underwhelming) and a good browse round the local chandlery before returning to Ruby and further chores. Disappointment in the afternoon as Hodges Street Sails returned ours as they were too big for their loft but delight in chatting with the owners, Laura and Gil: definitely ‘our sort of people’.

Oriental has a dragon theme!

Post box

Dragon's egg

Warning sign

Lawn dragon
















Sunday morning was spent on further cleaning and tidying then a walk in the afternoon took us to Mildred Street, to meet the OCC Port Officers, Ann and Nev. Again, lovely people and we congratulated ourselves on having chosen this place to leave Ruby. As previously mentioned, the tides here are driven by the wind and a check on Monday morning showed that Southerly winds were forecast for later. We had been planning to move round to Sailcraft Service the following day, to lift out on Wednesday but, as we were tight on entry depth anyway, decided to go early. This was a good decision, as we showed a clearance of 10 cm in places and, by Tuesday, the water level was 20 cm lower, staying that way or worse for the rest of the week. We were expecting to raft up, in the water, for a couple of days but were ushered into the boatlift and hauled straight out. There now followed a hectic couple of days: cleaning, sorting, chasing various people to ensure jobs were going to be done and decisions to be made, including to replace the jib furler and a bit of socialising in the evenings: a great put-luck supper at Ann and Nev’s and the cruisers equivalent of a cocktail party at the gazebo on the dock. We had decided, for laundry more than anything, to spend Thursday night ashore and, once again Ann and Nev came up trumps letting us stay at theirs and giving me a lift to collect our hire car.

Ruby on the hard

Finally, on Friday 4^th May, it was time to close Ruby up wish her a tearful farewell and drive off for our next adventure: 5 months of travelling round the U.K., pet sitting in other peoples’ houses.

March 2018

In which weather, in Scotland and the Bahamas, delays our progress but we make it as far South as Great Inagua before turning North.

Having been delayed by ‘The Beast from the East’ I finally returned to Elsie and Ruby at Emerald Bay Marina, Exuma, on Sunday 4^th March. A weather window for exiting and proceeding to Rum Cay had passed 2 days earlier and Northerly winds were forecast for the next 3 days. The swell was augmented by a very deep depression in mid Atlantic, which had surfers raving about the ‘best’ waves for a decade from the American seaboard through to the Virgin Islands. We wandered down to the harbour entrance a couple of times each day to watch the water and, occasionally, a boat entering or leaving. There seemed to be a pattern – 3 or 4 huge waves breaking right across the entrance, followed by several minutes of unbroken, but still huge, swell. With the northerly wind, an engine failure at the critical point would rapidly leave you beam on to this and swept onto the rocks within a couple of minutes.

Beacon

Church door

Elsie had hired a car to collect me from the airport. $60 for the day compared to taxis at $30 -40 each way. It wasn’t much of a car but it did the job and we took a trip down to the bottom of Little Exuma that afternoon. We found a pillar which had acted as a beacon to guide boats in to collect salt when it was being harvested from ponds a century earlier and a beautiful little church with modern stained glass windows. And door. We also used the car for a fairly major provisioning trip on Monday, before fitting the new wind generator with help from a neighbour (and his tools). Tuesday and Wednesday were just spent weather watching with daily walks, either through the adjacent Sandals resort or a stalled private development.

Finally, on Thursday 8^th, the wind shifted to the southwest. The swell was still larger than we would have liked but I figured that, if the worst happened with an engine failure, we would at least be able to sail clear. One false start, with a train of breaking waves coming sooner than expected, then a dash for freedom and 5 minutes later we were outside in fine sailing conditions, broad reaching the 47 miles back to Thomson bay on Long Island. Here we stayed for a further 5 days, moving twice to shelter from shifting winds and having the occasional trip ashore for a walk when they were not too strong.

At last, on the 13^th, we saw a window to make progress to the East and Aklins Island. It was a round-about route to get shelter for overnight stops. First, we headed West, back through the Comer passage and down to Water Cay. The first bit was a fine beam reach and second leg was a slow run. The wind, which should have shifted to East of North, failed to do so but we were comfortable enough and, as it looked worse than it was, only one other yacht joined us so we had plenty of space. Our neighbour was a young American couple who were having a fairly torrid time beating to wind on a 40 year old, 30 ft yacht with no auto pilot or weather updates. They had been stuck in Florida, crossed to Cuba with only a 14 day permit and were looking forward to a bit of peace. We were able to give them the good news that, if they were prepared to motor into wind the next morning, they should then have a good sail into Thomson Bay. For ourselves, we decided that we would get better winds by waiting a day, so spent the 14^th at anchor with a nice walk along the beach. On the 15^th, we back-tracked a couple of miles North then broke free of the bank and into deep water for a 50 mile reach across to Gordons Bay at the south end of Long Island.  Most of the way, the wind was on the beam, so it was Elsie’s treat. She had to work a little harder for the final 10 miles but we found a comfortable spot and settled in for the night. The next leg, across to Aklins Bight, was 20 degrees further to starboard but unfortunately the wind veered 45 degrees so we had a 35 mile close reach the following morning. Once inside the bight, we had to motor for a while but got another nice close reach for the final 12 miles down to Camel point, which provided good shelter. Our days run of 62 miles being our furthest for a few months, we felt our sun-downer rum punches were especially deserved.

Having finally got to Aklins, we weren’t sure what to do next. Once again, using the available winds would take us to places with poor shelter or trick entrances so we decided to chill for a couple of days and just do a few little routine maintenance jobs. On the 19^th, the wind shifted to the south and we re-positioned round the corner to anchor as close as we could to Spring Point settlement, where there was reputed to be a store. The nearest we could get still left us with a ¾ mile dinghy ride but our first impressions were good when a car coming in the opposite direction stopped to ask if they could help us at all. The next vehicle was an out-of service school bus going the same way as us. He also stopped to chat, told us that the local store was poor and he could give us a ride to a better one a few miles away as he was going that way anyway. We accepted. This store was acceptable (though no chicken!) and also had a restaurant attached and, as we had failed to make provision for lunch, we ate (good local fish, chicken or pork, with beans and rice). Our driver also ate and gladly accepted our offer to pay for him. While eating a loud discussion broke out about local religious affairs, in which our man appeared to be chief stirrer and we discovered far more than we wished to know. Having eaten, as he was now returning south, we accepted a lift back. In the absence of service buses, hitching is an accepted means of travel here. We have enquired and been told that payment is not expected and an offer may even cause offence, so I was a little surprised at the driver angling for and accepting a tip in addition to his lunch. It’s not wrong but it seems out of place here. Coupled with the theocracy (apparently 19 churches of various denominations for a population of about 600) it left a slightly sour taste. Probably not our favourite destination.

Lunch stop

We had been humming and hawing about whether, given the poor aid from the weather this year, it was time to head north but, looking at the long range forecast, we reckoned we could make one further trip south. To position ourselves for this, we heaved up on the morning of the 21^st and sailed the 20 miles back across the Bight of Aklins to anchor near the entrance. Again, we ended up about ¾ mile from the shore and dinghied in to have a look at the small settlement of Albert Town on Fortune Island. There is a little pier, with a channel in marked by posts. Even following this, the water was very shallow and, on the return, we sat as far forward as possible to give a couple of inches extra clearance to the propeller, turning at minimum revs. To reach the settlement, we had to walk about a mile along a rough track to discover half a dozen houses, a telecoms office and a small beach. At least we got some exercise.

Returning from Albert Town

We wanted a daylight arrival at Great Inagua, a voyage of about 110 miles, so we elected for a late afternoon departure. A quartering wind of 15 knots was forecast and we should be able to average at least 6 knots. We could always slow down or heave-to if necessary. Accordingly, after a bit of routine maintenance of sewage piping (always a pleasure!), we heaved up at 15:00 on the 22^nd and headed out, only to discover that the wind, for once, was lighter than forecast and that we had a north-setting current of up to 2 knots. It looked like we had miscalculated badly and might not make our destination in daylight. Apart from that, it was a pleasant sail, our first over-nighter since arriving in the Bahamas 3 months ago. The wind picked up a little, giving us a voyage average of 6 knots through the water (so, at least, I got that bit right) and the current reduced to about a knot. We arrived off Mathews Town at 13:00. Now, we had a further dilemma. The pilot book states that the small harbour is subject to surge and that there are obstructions and a shallow entrance, dangerous in a swell. We understood that the entrance had been dredged (and it was near high water) but there was a significant northerly swell running. There was an anchorage 10 miles further on, on the south coast. Having got trapped at Emerald Bay, we were wary of this harbour entrance and elected to continue. The chart, and book, suggested a comfortable berth, with clear sand and protection from swell, a mile or so offshore, inside a reef. The chart also hinted at a closer in spot so we headed for that, hoping that we would be able, the following day, to dinghy ashore, hitch into town and check the harbour for ourselves. We dropped sails at 15:00 and tried, unsuccessfully at the closer in one, but found poor holding, so went to the recognised anchorage. Either coral grows very quickly here or other peoples’ idea of clear sand varies from mine. We did eventually find a clear area, dropped the hook, and settled for the night, though it was not as smooth as we would have wished. The following day, with the wind still in the same direction but stronger, the swell changed direction making it even more uncomfortable. As an experiment, I attached a second line from our anchor cable to a midships cleat. This veered our bow round, making us pitch rather than roll. We spent a second uncomfortable night. In the morning, the wind had veered and decreased so we decided to pick up and head into town. By now, we were pitching heavily and had extra cable out from the previous days manoeuvres. The chain caught a couple of times on a coral head resulting in distress to both. Elsie had had a bad night so we just motored back to Mathews Town. We gingerly approached the harbour, to find it clear, with brand new docks, no surge and 15 ft of depth. It being Sunday, there was no-one around. There was a concrete dock for the defence force; one being used by Haitian trading sloops, with the only space next to a RoRo ramp and a wooden dock which we suspected might be private. As is was fairly calm outside, we exited and anchored outside, returning by dinghy for a walk ashore. We then bumped into people who told us that we could have used the wooden dock.

Trading sloops

 On Monday, we came in again and tied up to this and met the dock master, who told us a bit about the re-development and charged us $10 per night- cheapest dock we have seen since the Canaries 2 years before.. Walks ashore took us to the supermarket, not as comprehensive stock as hoped and, later, to the lighthouse. This, remarkably, was unlocked with a visitors’ book so we gave ourselves a self guided tour. The harbour was calm and we would have had a wonderful night’s sleep had we realised in time that there were small biting insects which followed us into our cabin. On subsequent evenings, we saluted the setting of the sun and immediately retreated below.

Lighthouse

view from the top

On Tuesday we took a tour with a local, unofficial, taxi to see the salt ponds, new and old. Great Inagua is effectively a vast sea salt farm with pumps constantly pumping water into the huge lake in the interior where it becomes concentrated brine by evaporation. This is let into dozens of shallow ponds, each about 50 – 60 acres and allowed to dry out over a period of about 3 months. The resulting salt, 6 – 9 inches deep, is then scraped into ridges by a grader then lifted into trucks for a rinse and final dry before being exported. The whole island economy depends on Morton salt. If they misuse this dependence, no-one here is saying.

Salt mountains

Harvesting

The wind had built during the week but was due to decrease and veer on Thursday so, on Wednesday afternoon, having spent the morning lugging cans of water to top up out tanks, we went to the store, only to find that it was half day closing. As it looked like Friday would give us a more comfortable sail, we decided to delay a day, and concentrate on planning our summer journey back to the U.K., including booking non-refundable air tickets. Early communications on Thursday brought a response that our planned shipyard could not accommodate us! There were some choice words said and frantic appraisals of alternatives before it appeared that someone thought we were a new booking and that we were expected after all. The wind had veered and swell was now entering the harbour, causing us to surge along the slip, needing improvements to our moorings. A check on the weather revealed that there might now be less wind than ideal with a Friday departure but, with provisioning still to be done and distress still lurking from the mornings confusions, we decided to stay the extra day. There were alternative stopping places, at Rum Cay and Conception Island if it looked as though we would not make Cat Island in daylight.

Provisions were a little sparse as, instead of the usual practice of weekly mail boats, they appear at random here. There had been 3 at once 10 days before and a local sports event had brought visitors, emptying the shelves. Never mind, it was time to start emptying the larder of emergency rations and some adventures in cooking. Who knew that a few handfuls of macaroni, a jar of Alfredo sauce, half a tin of Spam and a sprinkling of indifferent cheese could make a tasty, nutritious supper? Elsie had a productive afternoon baking and the cookie jars were full for our onward voyage.

Up at first light on the 30th and let go at 0740.  The wind was a nice F4 easterly, veering during the afternoon to ESE.  This meant it was a little further behind the beam than ideal, but we still moved along nicely at 7 knots with one reef in the main.  We had a second reef in for a while during the afternoon watch and again at 2300, for Elsie's night watch.  This was as well because, unforecast, there were a succession of squalls with heavy rain and gusts to 30 knots. I got dug out of my bunk at 0300 to assist with the 3^rd reef. The voyage back to abeam Albert Town was made in 16 hours and, at this point, we decided to make for our favourite Conception Island. We made this by midday on the 31^st, dropping anchor in the north east of the bay. Unfortunately, we didn’t have it completely to ourselves but it was nice to be back.

Monthly distances:

Logged              615

Over ground      566

Children of the Magenta

I have been a navigator all my adult life. I was a deck officer in the Merchant Navy in the days when coastal navigation was done by taking bearings of lights, buildings and even trees; deep sea, we used sextants and wind-up chronometers. If it was cloudy, we were sometimes using ‘dead reckoning’ for days on end. There were some electronic Nav Aids, but they were inaccurate and unreliable. The first satellite system used single transits and you were lucky to get a fix every 20 minutes or so. I then became a commercial helicopter pilot. Officially, we navigated by ground radio beacons, NDBs and VORs. In fact, the aircraft were fitted with smart boxes which interpreted Decca signals to fly us from waypoint to waypoint, but signals were frequently lost and large jumps encountered switching from one chain to the next and we always monitored the fixed aids. The more experienced the pilot, the less inherent trust he had in the automatics. There is a, possibly apocryphal, story of a new airliner reaching a waypoint and, instead of turning left as expected, it turned right. Within two minutes, the tech savvy Co-Pilot had worked out why this had happened; within 2 seconds, the Captain had disconnected the auto-pilot and corrected the course.

With the introduction of GPS and ever more sophisticated navigational aids, an airliner can fly itself from take off until landing; even a helicopter can manage, while above about 80 knots, with just the occasional push of a button. The system is so accurate and reliable that there is a temptation to let the system do the work and relax the monitoring: as long as the aircraft is following the magenta line on the flight management system, all is right with the world. This works most of the time but just one little error in route entering can spell disaster. The older, more experienced, generation fight against this tendency and use the pejorative phrase ‘Children of the Magenta’ to describe pilots who blindly accept what the system is telling them without cross checking other sources.

My third age of navigation has been sailing. When I first re-started, in 2010, I used paper charts. Fixes, using a hand compass, were taken at appropriate intervals and plotted. Transits and clearing lines were employed. The log recorded waypoints passed. Our chartered yacht might have a chart plotter, but this was strictly back-up to ‘proper’ navigation. Even when we bought Ruby, we ensured that we had the best paper charts for the area and plotted our positions. As time passed, and we gained more confidence in our chart plotter, we progressed to just having sufficient paper to ensure that we could make a safe harbour if it failed. Then to having back-up electronic charts on the phone. Our positions are logged by lat / long, directly from the GPS.

The last few months have been spent in the Bahamas. While the water on the Atlantic side and between islands is many thousands of metres deep, the banks are very shallow with, in places, many coral heads. At first, we took them at low speed with a look-out on the bow but have now got used to sailing for miles with only a few feet below us. The only charts that our, 12 year old, chart plotter will load are supplied by Navionics. These have a reputation for poor coverage in this area so we have used them with caution. On passing through in the Spring, I purchased Wavey Line charts for my phone. These are good, but are not, unlike Navionics charts, stored on the phone, so require internet access, so may fail in inaccessible areas. Following our grounding in January, I also purchased Explorer charts for the phone. These are regarded as ‘Gold Standard’ but this ap has also let me down by freezing at times. What these charts do have is a plethora of waypoints linked by known tracks. I have no reason to believe that these tracks, apart from where they weave between specific charted dangers, are any deeper than anywhere within a few hundred metres. What they do bring is the knowledge that dozens, or hundreds, of other yachtsmen have followed them and, if there any rocks to be found on them, someone will have done so.  While paper charts are available, for vast areas there is nothing to take bearings from so one could only take satellite positions and plot them, something tha a chart plotter does automatically.

Accordingly, we now transfer the waypoints to our main plotter (treble checking each one) and sail or motor along the lines. It works, but I am not proud of this lowering of navigational practice. I have become a Child of the Magenta.

February 2018

In which we have a week in the Jumentos and return to Georgetown.

Having spent nearly 2 weeks at Thomson Bay, Long Island, we finally got away on the 1^st February. There was a stretch of our route which I wanted to pass with some height of tide beneath us so it was an early start, lifting anchor at 0640. We had transferred waypoints from our new explorer chart ap onto the chart-plotter so that we could cross-check from two sources. The wind was right behind us, F4, so we goose winged the main and full genoa. After about 12 miles of generous 5 – 6 metres beneath us, we came to the shallower section, where we had to follow a known cut for about 10 miles. At half tide, we never saw less than 2.9 metres, so we had probably been over cautious. We could now turn south, broad reaching and, as the wind increased to F5, put a bit of the sails away. With about 2 miles to go to our destination, our new ap failed. Fortunately, I had previously checked it for hazards and, although our Navionics data gave false depth information, we were able to feel our way in and anchored at Water Cay at 1420. On arrival, the only other boat in the anchorage was a local fisherman. They had a skiff which was sent out with three men on to free dive for conch in 10 – 12 ft of water. Their target was 500 conch per day until they had 4000 to take back. Each skiff load of 100 was brought back, a hole made in the shell then strung together and kept alive in the water until they were ready to leave. The foul weather that we had sat out at long island had also delayed them and their excursion was going to take them 10 days instead of their usual 8. We were later joined by 3 other yachts but they were put off by the fisherman running his generator all night and left early the next morning. We considered doing likewise but decided that we could stand the noise and stayed an extra day, having a good walk along several linked beaches.

Ruby with fishing boat at Water Cay

A later start on the 3^rd took us 15 miles downwind to Two Tree Beach (which only has one tree) on Flamingo Cay. Here, we caught up with the boats which had left the day before and met up with them later on the beach for sun-downers, in the lee of a small bonfire which nicely kept the insects away. The afternoon was spent with a walk across a peninsular to another bay, the trail being marked at intervals with flip-flops dangling from bushes. Sadly, these markers are not hard to come by as windward beaches throughout the Caribbean are littered with them.

Trail marker

Off again on the 4^th, a further 30 miles south to Buenavista Cay. Having had the wind just too far aft the previous 2 passages, today it was just too far forward. Most of the way we managed to sail close hauled into an ESE F4-5 but we were threading out way between reefs and had to motor sail for a couple of miles in the middle. Once again, we arrived in time for lunch and a lazy afternoon. There is a long double bay and 4 other yachts were anchored in the southern part but, having had to share for the previous 3 weeks, we went our own way and chose the smaller, northern one. Everyone else moved on the following morning leaving us in splendid isolation with a couple of miles of tropical white beach to ourselves. There had been one house on the island built by a native Bahamian, who enjoyed interacting with cruisers (and, allegedly, with other passing boats transiting with high value cargo). Hurricane Irma, the previous September, had wiped him out, leaving only foundations and a few chickens.  That evening, watching the sun set below a perfectly clear horizon, we saw the 'green flash' for the first time since we were in trhe Aeolians 18 months earlier.  Remarkably, the same happened the following evening.  Either the atmosphere was particularly clear or I am making the 'sundowner' rum punches stronger than usual.

We had been planning to spend 10 – 14 days exploring these islands but a check on the weather that evening revealed that the strong Easterlies were returning. With the exception of the coming Thursday, the wind would be 20 – 25 knots as far as the eye could see. Not wishing to be trapped, we determined that we only had 3 more days and to pick up early the following morning and head down to Ragged Island at the foot of the chain. We were delighted to be visited before leaving by a local fisherman who swapped 4 lobster tails for the latest weather forecast. The 25 mile sail down was a joy, with a F4-5 just ahead of the beam almost all the way, giving us 8+ knots. Into South Side anchorage, only to discover that, with a long fetch, the sea was too rough to comfortably reach shore. We had been in 2 minds about doing so anyway as the local town had been completely destroyed by Irma and we didn’t want to gawk. Instead, we had a leisurely lunch and a good catch-up on emails and other internetty stuff before picking up and heading 15 miles back North to Racoon Cay. We averaged nearly 8.5 knots this time with the wind behind the beam and arrived with 5 minutes to spare before the beach gathering organised by the crew of “Sam the Skull”, the brilliantly named Glasgow registered Cat. Also present was “Desiderata”, who we keep bumping into and, comparing notes, found that they had the same escape plan as us. Another early start (though not as early as Desiderata) on Wednesday and another brilliant 50 mile sail back to Water Cay.

Water Cay

Thursday was harder work. We had about 6 miles of motor sailing, hard on the wind, 15 sailing on a close reach then 11 miles back through the Comer Passage. This time we were near low water and had 2.0 – 2.2 metres showing on the depth gauge. Desidera must have nerves of steel as they draw a foot more than we do and kept pace with us. It was then 11 miles, directly into wind, back to Thompson bay. A couple of year’s ago, we would have sailed this (or even a couple of weeks earlier, when we were sailing deprived) but we just motored to ensure we had plenty of time for a provisioning trip, as the wind was forecast to get up again before morning. It did rise a little, but not enough to keep us on board and we had a long walk (8 miles) round the bay to Indian Hole point and back, pausing at Tiny’s for Oh-So-Good conch fritters on the way back. The wind did get up that evening and kept us confined for the next 4 days.

Post office at Thompson bay

Wednesday was a busy day: early dinghy trip to the fuel station, to drop off our propane tank (almost perfectly timed – it ran out just as I was finishing cooking on Tuesday evening, so I had to connect up the old camping gas for morning coffee); book swap and provisioning on the way back; over to Tiny’s for laundry (miss-timing, so we were 3^rd in the queue) and a final trip back to collect the propane tank. Thursday, it was time to move on and we had a nice downwind run, first with just genoa and then with cruising chute, to Elizabeth Island, entering via Middle Rocks passage. Wea found a pleasant anchorage, on our own, which is remarkable for so close to Georgetown. On Friday, we motored the couple of miles to anchor off Regatta Point and make 4 trips ashore to top up with, free, R.O. water. We also did a little shopping (finding mango juice – hurray) and Elsie got her visitor’s visa extended.

Ruby on a pontoon.

On Saturday morning I got an email reminding me that the subscription for our Navionics chart-plotter charts was about to expire. The last couple of occasions that I had tried to update them I had failed but decided to have another go. Miracle! It worked and 2 hours later, I had an up-to-date data card, which I put back in the chart-plotter and – nothing. Was it the card? I tried 2 others and they also did not work. We knew the data reader was poor and it looked as though it had given up. Tried looking in the back and discovered that it was hard wired in so, even if we could get a replacement, we would not be able to fit it. I found a used display on ebay and made a quick decision to buy it as I would be able to collect it next week. We then wandered over to the other, more sheltered side of the bay. We had discussed putting Ruby on a mooring while I was away and been assured that there was no need to book. Now we discovered that they were all taken. Tried to contact the owner, who is also the harbour master, with no joy. Tried a couple of other providers but they had no vacancy. On Sunday, I finally managed to contact the original man and, after a lot of messing around found that we were out of luck so it was the fall-back plan of travelling 12 miles downwind to Emerald Bay Marina. This is attached to a Sandals resort and their premium slips are way outside our price range but they do provide non-serviced slips at $44 per night which, while it is $44 more than we usually pay, is not bad for the area. Only problem is that they do not answer the phone or emails and, with our poor radio performance, we could not contact them until close, so it was a rush to get there to ensure we had a berth, in case we had to return and leave Ruby and Elsie swinging on the hook for 2 weeks. I say rush, but it was a bit more measured as our chart-plotter now will display no charts, just way points gleaned from other sources (and triple checked) with 3 sources of charts on the iPhone to provide detail. It all worked as well as could be hoped and, by 12:00, we were tied up and secure for my trip back to the U.K.

I did leave Elsie with a beach to walk on.

Monthly distances

Logged          291

Over ground  269

January 2018

In which we make our way down the Out Islands and sit out some unseasonable weather.

We started 2018 anchored of the gorgeous beach stretching west from Orange Creek, at the northern end of Cat Island, Bahamas.

Checking the anchor cable.

Motoring through the calm.

We had motored back to here after a disappointing trip to Arthurs Town on New Years Eve in the expectation of having a good sailing wind the following day. This did not materialise, so we had to motor 15 miles down the coast, past Alligator point. We anchored off Pigeon Creek, dinghied ashore to a small beach and walked the mile or so to the next settlement down, passing a closed food store. We had hoped to find a water tap, but didn't. The following morning, we went ashore again and stocked up a little on provisions, but didn't find any fresh fruit or vegetables as they arrive by boat on Thursdays so we picked up anchor and continued down the coast to New Bight. Again, the forecast wind failed to materialise, but we drifted slowly for a few hours before giving up and motoring the rest of the way. The plan was to stay here a couple of days but the forecast wind changed from Northerly to Westerly with gusts up to 30 knots and we would not get any protection on this coast so, instead, we picked up on the morning of the 3rd and beat down to the South East tip of the island in a SWly F3 then reached back along the Southern coast passing through a small gap in a coral reef to anchor at Reef Harbour. The wind steadily increased and veered. The coast gave us good protection from the wind waves but, unfortunately, the swell from the West came over the reef causing us to roll more than was comfortable. We were, however, safe and stayed here for nearly 2 days, leaving on the morning of the 5^th to sail, once again into a fickle wind, back to New Bight. Strong winds were again forecast, this time from the East, and I was keen to provision while we could so, after an early lunch, we dinghied ashore only to discover the the Westerly winds had prevented the supply boat from coming. We walked the mile or so up to the food store anyway and got enough to tide us over. We also discovered a water tap and did a couple of runs to top up the aft (washing water) tank. Ashore again in the morning, this time to walk up to the top of Mount Alvernia, the highest point in the Bahamas at all of 206 feet. Here there is a 3/4 scale hermitage, built by Father Jerome, who seemed to have got about a bit, as we have found refences to him on other islands.

Hermitage

Thence back to the food store in time for the late arrival of the weeks fresh supplies. It was a walk of over a mile back to the dinghy, so we hung out a thumb and were immediately picked up by a passing local. Sunday was damp and dismal, so we stayed on board doing the occasional little job to keep us entertained and tried to work out a strategy for the coming week as the wind was, once again, forecast to box the compass with cloud and rain for much of the time. At least it was going to be warmer than the high teens we had been experiencing for the past few days.

On Monday, 8^th, We decided that we were bored of sitting in one place and started a series of hops. We had an earlyish start, initially downwind, under just the genoa, to hawks nest point then, with 2 reefs in the main and variable headsail, it was a beat to windward for 30 miles to Conception Island. Had we moved back to our anchorage at Reef Harbour on Sunday, we would have shortened the distance considerably and also had a better angle on the wind. The anchorage is not particularly difficult to enter but I wanted to do it in good daylight and we ended up motoring the last couple of miles into wind. Conception Island had been one of our favourite places earlier in the year and, once again, we had it entirely to ourselves. Without the sun, however, it wasn't quite the same and we were happy to move on the following morning. The wind was forecast to be South Easterly and, in a straight line, we only had about 35 miles to go so it shouldn't have been any problem. Foolishly, however, I decided to save a mile by going North initially round a 4 mile reef rather than South. This changed our angle on the wind such that we were, once again, hard on it all day, rather than having a pleasant reach. At times, as the wind veered then backed, it seemed that we would miss our destination altogether and have another motor into wind to finish the day but, with a bit of good fortune and a lot of hard work, we finished up off Cockburn Town, San Salvador at 15:00 and anchored just south of the town. Unlike most of the Bahamian islands, San Salvador has no deeply indented bays to shelter in so we were relying on its sheer bulk to protect us from the Atlantic swell. The wind was as good as it could be for this - just South of East – but it was still far from comfortable. We dinghied ashore in the morning, initially into the government harbour but, finding no-where to safely leave the dinghy, we retreated and landed on the beach instead. It was Independence Day and very quiet but we had a good walk, sheltering from a couple of rainstorms and then getting thoroughly soaked on the trip back by a third. Thursday started bright and we enjoyed a swim before the rain returned. It got progressively heavier and we gave up the idea of having another trip ashore. Elsie decided to have another go at collecting rainwater, this time by rigging a bed sheet from the spray hood and back to the binnacle. The first hour provided a few litres and we wondered whether it was worth the effort. Later, however, the heavens really opened in true tropical fashion and, over the space of an hour or so, we collected about 50 litres, enough to top-up our ‘washing water’ tank. It was surprisingly cloudy so we didn’t add any to the drinking water tank. Although Friday still gave us South Easterly winds, a swell was building and setting us rolling. Seizing a gap in the weather, we heaved up and headed South West, initially heading for the South of Conception Island. The wind was fluctuating between 10 and 25 knots, hindering progress and I didn’t think we could make it back to Conception before nightfall so instead headed for an anchorage on the North side of Rum Cay. We made the entrance to this by 15:30 but the overcast conditions meant that we couldn’t ‘read the water’ and, as it is an infrequent anchorage and not properly surveyed, I was not willing to risk running into an uncharted rock. So, back to plan ‘a’ and head for Conception. This was now 10 miles directly downwind so we just put the sails away and motored, arriving at twilight but I knew my way in here and we anchored safely at 18:10. Saturday dawned fair and the only other yacht in the anchorage left at first light so we, once again, had the island to ourselves and had a very pleasant walk ashore. The tide was lower than we had seen it before and, at the Southern end of the beach we found an old wreck. There was the remains of a windlass with anchor chains still threaded through hawse pipes and nearby what can only be described as ‘mashed ship’ - tortured metal beaten together and welded into pieces of rock. An awesome reminder of the power of the sea. Soon after we returned to Ruby, a large motor yacht appeared and moored for a few hours but the rain had returned and the guests obviously didn’t wish to linger in an area with no shops or restaurants. While we lunched another two sailing yachts anchored so we no longer had the island to ourselves.

The wind changed to South-Easterly and we moved to the Southern end of the bay and then, the following day, back to the North end as the wind, and swell, changed again. More yachts arrived that evening and, as it was time to stock up on provisions, we moved on the following morning, heading to Rum Cay. The wind was just East of North, giving us a good close reach, marred only by occasional showers. We anchored close to where we had in April and dinghied ashore. A walk to the Eastern end showed us that the entrance channel to the Marina had been dredged and the sand spoil from this was being made to good use in repairing the government jetty in the bay. The marina itself was still in a bad way, with bad silting up of the, still un-repaired, docks. The little grocery was as we remembered – as long as we were not too picky, there was food enough to keep us going for a few days. On Tuesday, we went for a longer walk round the settlement, finding the school and chatting with a few locals, including a resident American. We topped up a little on food and swapped a few books with the library at the store.

Obligatory sunset picture.

We had resolved to give a little back on our travels this year and had brought some stationery items for the school. Having discovered that, with a total island population of 60, there were only 5 pupils, we chose a selection and presented ourselves on Wednesday morning and were made very welcome. After a chat with the teacher, we were invited to take the reading lesson with the year 6’s allowing her to concentrate on the year 3’s. Farewells at mid-day, and a continuation of the walk to a small-holding run by the marina owners for another nice chat and some hen-fresh eggs. Despite the wind being North of East, the anchorage was rolly with a southerly swell and other yachts arrived that afternoon to disturb our isolation so, on Thursday we heaved up and headed West to Long Island. It was close hauled up to the tip and then broad reach 8 miles down the other side before gybing and heading for the inside passage. On my Navionics charts, the logical route appeared to be outside of a sandbank. We would be almost directly downwind, so we put away the main and continued under jib alone. My chart showed that we should have 8-9 metres of water all the way but it soon decreased to less than 6. A concerned dolphin came to look at us, as Elsie has written. 4 metres and I started the engine. I now saw breaking water, where no shallows were shown and made a rapid 180, furling the sail as we went round. As we motored back North, I calculated that we would now not reach our destination before sunset so planned on our fall-back, the lee of a small island. The cruising guide gave basic directions and these tied in with my chart so a route was planned though, as I expected less than 0.5 metre of clearance in places, we proceeded at low speed. The strong Northerly wind had stirred and clouded the water making things even more tricky. We touched and then held fast. The tide was rising, so we put out the anchor and waited in hope. I contacted a local marina who put us in touch with someone with a power boat to give us a tow if all else failed but, after a nail-biting hour, we floated free and proceeded to our chosen anchorage. Not totally smooth, but safe. I dug out other charts overnight and found where we should have gone. In the morning, we proceeded, initially under engine until we were confident in the new chart then under genoa alone with a following wind down to Thomson bay, arriving at 11:00. An early lunch, then ashore for a walk and a little light shopping. The local bar advertised a happy hour at 16:00 and we felt we needed a little relaxation so, after stowing away the groceries, we went ashore again and socialise for an hour or two.

On Saturday morning, ashore again to visit a farmers’ market only to discover that at 09:30, we had missed all the fresh fruit and veg so back to the store for a bit more of a stock up from them. In the afternoon, we took the dinghy in the other direction for a walk on a, not terribly attractive, beach. Sunday was wet, so we stayed on board. Monday was brighter, so we decided to explore a little. Ashore earlyish and down to the tourist office to pick up a little information, then out with the thumbs and hitched, in 4 goes, down to Clarence Town, the island capital. We passed several stores, schools and government buildings on the way down but in Clarence town, very little. There was a twin towered Catholic church, built by Father Jerome who also built the hermitage on Cat Island but it was unfortunately locked. There was a twin towered Anglican church, also locked and a marina, geared to sport fishing boats. There was also the ‘Slave Canal’ a narrow cut from the harbour through to what is now a mangrove swamp but had been a shallow pond used as a salt pan. Cut by hand, it allowed sea water to flow in and was then dammed to allow evaporation and salt collection. We then hitched back north. The sight-seeing wasn’t spectacular but we had some great conversations with the drivers, including the primary school principle, learning of the effects of hurricane Joaquin, 2 ½ years earlier, and the recovery from it.

 Fr Jerome's church

Slave canal

Tuesday was another lazy day, with just a dinghy trip ashore in the afternoon for a little social gathering with other cruisers. Wednesday was busier: there was weather heading our way and we had a couple of things to do before it hit. First we went for a top-up of fuel and, more importantly, water. The previous fuel dock had been destroyed by Joachim and there was conflicting information as to depths available, so we made sure to approach on a rising tide. It transpired that there was plenty of depth until very close. We were disappointed with the water, however: although it was R.O. (reverse osmosis) and chargeable, it was mixed in a tank with rain water and a bit cloudy, so we elected to only fill the aft ‘washing’; tank and not the forward ‘drinking’ tank. We still have about 60 litres of bottled water from our crossing and are loath to contaminate the forward tank. Back to our anchorage and then dinghy to a bar with laundry attached. We lunched while a month’s worth of washing was done. Seafood pizza was available at $45, but we elected for a sharing platter of conch fritters at $8. The last job of the day was erecting the cockpit tent. We hadn’t used it in over 2 years but we could see waves of foul weather heading our way and, if we were going to be trapped on board for a week, a 10 ft square sun room sounded like a useful extension. On Thursday, we stocked up on provisions and battened down the hatches for a gale, which blew for more than 48 hours. Books, music and board games kept us entertained.

Tent

Our electricity generation was working well: we have the 2 solar panels and the wind generator and the batteries had their longest ever period of being fully charged with a steady voltage of 13+ volts. On Sunday, the wind gennie suddenly started making a different noise from what we had heard before and, a few hours later, seized solid. Monday, the wind was too strong to deal with it but on Tuesday, a gap in the weather allowed us to take it down and start an on-line conversation with the manufacturer. Subsequent dismantling showed that a carbon brush had jammed in its holder, causing it to lose contact with a slip ring and the result was an over-heated and destroyed generator. It was still under warranty but several thousand miles from a service centre. We had a little provisioning trip ashore later before the next weather hit us on Wednesday. So, the latter half of January was spent in one anchorage, with little entertainment. It was our decision to slow down this winter, but the unseasonable weather has meant that we have not enjoyed it as much as hoped. Never mind – looking ahead, the weather looks set to be more to our liking and we are planning on moving on and seeing some new islands.

Monthly distances:

Logged          354 miles
Over ground  301 miles