First half of July - by Elsie

Yes, Lionel asked the question, what could possibly go wrong and we found out the question the next day.

Ruby

1st July saw us anchored at Rockport just off the old harbour. A very convenient spot for access to the town with the dinghy dock just inside the harbour wall, although at low tide the barricade of rocks makes it look inaccessible but with care it can still be done. However, I would recommend tying up at one of the empty floating pontoons as there is a long climb up the ladder from the designated dingy dock. This is about the third or maybe fourth time we have anchored here but we never went ashore as we were always on our way somewhere or going back south. It is a very convenient place to stop for the night. Every time we have visited one of us has remarked on the huge picture window that a building has overlooking the anchorage. Tonight, we will have the chance to see the window from the inside. It belongs to the town arts theatre and is a huge window at the back of the stage. A film of The Tempest is being shown tonight and we got tickets. On our morning walk we called into the booking office to collect the tickets. There were no seat numbers on the tickets so Lionel asked if we should show up early to grab good seats. The lady looked, then replied no, you should be alright. Little did we know. The walk continued along another street we had not explored so far. All streets lead to the small independent grocery/all things store at the top of the town. Expensive but nice stuff. The bread was just being delivered so we waited for fresh bread and bought a few more things. Of course, when going to the theatre you must have “sweeties” and they must not rustle or make a noise when eaten. Li picked up some strawberry pretzels but I couldn’t find anything to my taste. I had remembered the sweetie shop in the centre. On our way back I feigned surprise and managed to get half a pound of gummy bears. Excellent choice for a theatre visit. No paper rustling, chewy but not noisy chewy and lasts for ages if sucked.

Typical Rockport street

After lunch we did more investigation into our water in the bilges problem. Lionel will write a separate posting about this as it gets very complicated and somewhat technical. We made a joint decision that it would be better to get it looked at now, when we had time on our hands and the boat yards were not busy. After asking for recommendations from his sailing gurus, we decide to turn back and go to a highly recommended boat yard at Marion, Massachusetts. Then, a big problem was met. The Americans have a holiday on 4^th July, something about Independence, I don’t understand why but they seemingly decided to go it alone. The problem was they just don’t have the day off they turn it into a long weekend which meant the preferred surveyor and boat yard were shut till Tuesday, a week away. We could either turn back tomorrow and spend the holiday in Marion, which would be OK but not as fun as spending the holiday in Provincetown so you guessed, we were heading back to Provincetown for the holidays. We had been on our own in this anchorage for a couple of days but I spied several boats heading our way as I sunned myself on deck. It’s a good sport watching people anchoring and it’s even better when they see someone on deck in a boat that is already anchored. Trying to judge the optimum distance to anchor away is an art and some people will never learn it. It took two attempts for one of the boats to get it right but eventually everyone was happy and the four of us settled down for the evening.

Ruby at anchor at Rockport

Another thing I don’t quite understand is the prohibition malarkey. Rock Sound was a dry town until 2006 when some restaurants were granted a liquor licence which meant people could have a drink with their meal. It was only in the Spring of this year that alcohol was allowed to be sold in the grocery store. A visit to the theatre always includes a drink in the interval so Lionel made up some rum punch in a water bottle and off we went with our theatre proofed sweeties and our illicit drink. We now understood what the lady in the box office meant, there was at the most thirty people at the film. The large window was covered up by the screen so we did not get to see the view from the other side. The film was good. We have been to many of these live films of plays and opera over the past year but when they said it had been filmed in Stratford, we did not realise they meant Stratford, Canada not Stratford, England. The lead, Prospero, was taken by a female actress which was unusual but had been done before. Li’s daughter, Artie, had played the Duke of Milan in her last year at her drama club. In the interval we sneaked out and sat on a large window sill sipping our cocktails, little knowing that the rest of the audience also came out for a breath of fresh air. We did get some funny looks but no comments but I did notice that the people who had been sitting beside us had moved further away for the second half. Ah well, they will catch on eventually.

Next morning light airs were forecast so we decided to do the passage to Provincetown in two days. We were still in two minds about where to spend the holiday. Plymouth could be an interesting option as this is where the Pilgrim Fathers eventually settled but we knew thousands of other people would have the same idea. Also, Plymouth is not a very anchor friendly place and although there are three free mooring balls just outside the harbour they are uncomfortable for a couple of reasons – they are positioned outside the no wake area and the locals seem to take great pleasure in speeding as close as possible to them as they go pass and they are made of metal which means they bang against the boat hull with certain tides and currents no matter what you do. So, we set off motor sailing slowly in the general direction but going nowhere in particular. Lionel went down for a cat nap and the wind slowly built so I switched off the engine and sailed very slowly enjoying the silence but keeping a sharp eye out for fishing buoys. We may not be in Maine yet but they do love their buoys in Massachusetts as well. Lionel identified a possible anchorage at Green Harbour and we drew into a large bay with a wide sandy beach, dropping the anchor in time for a late afternoon tea. It was warm but not warm enough for us to think about swimming but the temperature didn’t seem to deter the locals who splashed about in the shallow water on the beautiful beach.

In the morning Lionel was awoken by splashing all around. The fish were rising and he threw out a line to see what he could catch for dinner. One smallish fish which we decide was a striped bass. Nothing else. It was light airs so we motor sailed to Provincetown and back into our preferred anchorage. We both like this place and it has everything an independent cruiser would need. The water is on a courtesy dock costing 25 cents for some? We couldn’t work out how much because it seemed to vary every time, we went so eventually we decided it was on a clock. The dingy dock was always busy but there was lots of room and there was no need for security as it is a very open friendly place. I had found out that there was a 4^th July Parade at 1030am going down the Main Street and a firework display at sunset. We planned the next day’s activities as Lionel ate his bony and rather tasteless fish and I enjoyed a veggie stir fry. We would be the ultimate tourist and arrive early for the Parade, armed with lots of water and find a nice shady seat. The firework raft was moored in the harbour so we decided we would go out in the dinghy for a good view. The day was sorted.

Provincetown sunset

A beautiful day dawned. Maybe a little history of Provincetown is needed. This was the first land fall of the Pilgrim Fathers on the Mayflower. They soon realised that it was not going to sustain life and moved down the coast to Plymouth. The first European death was here. Whether it was a natural death, a suicide or a murder is up to who you believe. However, the Europeans had noted the tall trees and came back to use the wood to build their houses in Plymouth, stripping the natural forests. Thank goodness someone had the sense to replant them about 50 years ago. Did you know that the Fathers were aiming for Virginia and was swept off course on their very rough passage? They had to petition the king for permission to stay in Plymouth which he granted.

Pilgrims Monument

 Nothing much else happened there until war was declared in Europe in the twentieth century. When it looked as if America was going to join in, the artists and their followers arrived in Provincetown to escape all the war talk and they have never left. Every second shop is a picture gallery or some sort of craft shop. There are as many theatres as there are public houses and everywhere is a party zone. It is a colourful, happy place with two flags flying beside the Pilgrims Monument, a huge Stars and Strips and an equally big Rainbow flag. We arrived and found an empty bench beside the library, not in the shade but not long to wait. So, we waited …and waited …. and waited…. It isn’t a hardship to wait around in this town. There is always something to watch or observe. Lots of interesting people and dogs. Eventually, almost an hour late, the Parade started with the usual dignitaries and some soldiers carrying flags.

Soldiers and flags

Miss Massachusetts was next in the obligatory open car then pensioner of the year and some other worthy towns people.

someone very important

Two drag queens in full regalia with sparkly stilettoes on tricycles were next, so Provincetown!

The rest of the Parade was a celebration of all things American, dressed up trucks, fire engines, ambulances. Sponsored flatbed trucks, decorated in red, white and blue filled with people throwing sweets and toys to the crowd. I managed to catch a windmill but realised there was a babe in arms behind me so I handed it over. I do have a conscience.

do you think

The last group was a Youth Theatre Group who were performing Cabaret some time during the summer. Every hundred yards they stopped and gave us a song and dance. Very entertaining. After the mornings excitement we took a stroll to the supermarket then returned to Ruby for a quiet afternoon and early dinner so we had time to drift to the firework display …which was late… very, very late … in starting. Once the Harbour Master had got everyone where he wanted them to be then decided to park herself in front of us for the best view the display began. It was good with only one or two misfires. That was our most exciting Independence Day so far – no aliens, that we know of – but exciting.

Fife and drums

The next morning, I took charge and arranged a day of sightseeing using the local bus. The day ticket was very reasonably priced and it meant we could jump on and off at will. There was a bus scheduled every hour which was just enough time to see each of the towns on route. Off we went. The first stop was at a place called Wellfleet where Marconi made the first transatlantic radio message at a place called, interestingly enough, Marconi Beach. What a coincidence! Thank goodness for tourist orientated bus drivers. It wasn’t at Wellfleet, it was about five miles outside the town but we got dropped off at the junction and was pointed in the general direction. Now, the adventure began. We walked down a road for a mile then saw the headquarters of the Park Rangers which we decided to go into and see if we could get some more information. Good job we did. This turned out to be the museum as well with a small exhibit of Marconi’s life and a scale model of the equipment he used to make the ground breaking message. Quiet disappointing. After a conversation with the lady on the desk we decided that going to the actual sight wasn’t worth the effort and to go for a small stroll instead and catch the next bus to see what other delights we could find. The stroll turned into a major hike ending up, you guessed, at Marconi Beach.

Marconi beach

Nothing is left there except a sandy beach with the Atlantic pounding on it. The radio station was only there for about six years as the erosion of the beach was so severe it was in danger of falling into the sea so they dismantled and moved it to safer spot. I bet the locals were pleased. When it was operating the noise of the sparks could be heard six miles away.

Wellfleet walk

Onward we went, eventually hitting the main road. On the travel web site, it said the bus could be hailed and stopped on this stretch of road anywhere as long as it was safe. It looked safe so we waited for the bus. Half hour later it passed but did not stop. Ok. We decided to walk to where we got dropped off. That was an official bus stop. The buses were an hour apart so we took the scenic route but still had plenty of time to catch the scheduled bus. By this time, we were commenting on the heavy traffic on the main road and how Cape Cod would soon be full if this carried on. The bus was very late. Lionel found a bus tracking page on the transport website and reported that there was a bus coming the other way in ten minutes. The decision was made to cut our losses and return to Ruby which we did. Afterwards we found out that it was common for people to spend the actual 4^th July at home then travel to their holiday destination the next day hence the heavy traffic. Never mind, we got lots of exercise.

Provincetown walk

I had picked up a whole lot of leaflets about walks in the area at the headquarters and found that there was a walk in Provincetown down to one of the famed beaches, Herring Cove. After much reassurance (and checking for himself) Lionel decide it would be a good idea to go for a walk and we headed out towards the park the next morning. It was yet again another lovely day and we enjoyed a good walk in the woodland and around some lily ponds. Where was Monet when you needed him?

Monet

We took our lives in our hands and walked along the cycle path expecting irate cyclists to be ringing their bells and shouting but it was very peaceful and pleasant and we all shared the path amicably, cyclists, walkers and the occasional jogger.

sand dunes

The beach was reached, eventually and we turned for home after filling our water bottles at a fountain made available by the beach café. Thank you. On our homeward journey we came across a metal sculptures yard. Fantastic sculptures and garden models and a very interesting man to talk to. A metal tree with lamps hanging from it caught my eye but alas, there is no room on Ruby for decorations like that. Once more a visit the supermarket (Stop and Shop is almost my favourite American supermarket now) and an early evening as we had a “long journey to make” tomorrow. We moved over to the other side of the bay for a quick getaway in the morning and because it would be more comfortable in the wind direction. Over there, there are two house structures built on floating platforms, my kind of place. One had a forty foot sail boat moored up alongside. Bliss.

my dream

Everything was timed today so that we could get through the Cape Cod Canal with the tide so we lifted anchor about 1030am and sailed across the wide expanse that I felt we knew very well by now. The wind was right behind us so a preventer and pole were rigged and we goose winged toward Sandwich (more or less) at a good speed amusing ourselves on the way by watching a boat which had left the anchorage well before us. The captain couldn’t make up his mind what was the best point of sail to adopt. One minute he was on port tack, the next on starboard then ten minutes later back on port. Once he spotted us goose winging, he tried that but to no avail. To be honest we soon realised why, the wind changed dramatically and we put away the sails as we approached the canal entrance. We motored through the canal and over to an anchorage on Wings Bay which we had used the previous week. It was as lovely as I remembered it to be and at sunset, we were treated to another firework display from across the peninsula as good if not better than the one we attended on the 4^th.

Cape Cod Canal

Next morning, we motored round to Marion slowly. There was no rush as nothing could be done till Tuesday morning. We were assigned a buoy amongst thousands and settled in for the afternoon. The boat yard thoughtfully had a courtesy launch so there was no need to let loose the dinghy and we took a slow stroll through town, found a very upmarket supermarket and a very good ice cream shop with two people serving. I must have looked hungrier than Lionel because my tub was about a third fuller than his. Flavours called purple cow and moose footprints were on offer. They were excellent. Marion is a very affluent town with a private school, Tabor Academy, which has extensive buildings and grounds. The emphasis is on outdoor living so we didn’t feel like a spectacle walking around the town as we usually are made to feel. Henry James, the author was born here. The boat yard was clean, tidy and offered everything that a cruiser would need. However, it was definitely not a DIY boatyard. All the storage we could see was indoors so it would be expensive to leave a boat here over the winter.

Tuesday dawned and the surveyor turned up and examined Ruby. He banged and nodded, looked at instruments and banged a bit more. His prognosis was Ruby was fine. There was not cracks or ripples and there was no reason to lift her out. You could feel the audible sigh that the news brought. We thanked him profusely, went alongside to fill with fuel and water and settled our bill promptly then left for Provincetown again. What was the hurry? Firstly, we need a favourable tide to get through the canal again and secondly, and more importantly, there was a weather window coming up that meant we could get up to Nova Scotia in one hop instead of taking the long way up the Maine coast which was good news as we were already behind schedule. We had wanted to spend Canada Day in Nova Scotia and that was 8 days ago. The sailing season in Nova Scotia is short and the weather can be very fickle so every good day has to be taken advantage of. There was very little wind and what wind was against us so we never even took the sails out and motored the 40 odd miles across to Provincetown again, dropping the anchor in time for Lionel’s afternoon nap. I checked the weather again for the umpteenth time.

Cape Cod road bridge

A passage across the Gulf of Maine is only about 250 miles but it cannot be taken lightly. It is out on the Atlantic and by past experience we knew how swiftly the wind and waves can change out there. We also had tides and currents to contend with. Using Predict Wind the optimum time to leave was 7pm tomorrow evening which meant we would have two nights at sea but, we would definitely be arriving in daylight to navigate into the sound where Shelburne is. I looked for an alternative but found none so it was going to be two nights and one day at sea.

We had a rather lazy morning the next day, catching up with admin stuff and correspondence. To be absolutely clear about what we were going to be doing in the next month we went through it day by day, marking off where we would need mooring buoys and pontoons to tie up on. Going by the prices published on various websites it was far cheaper than USA for marinas and buoys so we thought we might take advantage of that. All the emails were sent and people notified about our intentions and we had a cup of tea feeling smug. It’s not very often we are in organised harmony but it happened that morning. Yet another visit to the supermarket and a last walk around the town. This place is becoming like our American Tobermory, every voyage leads us there so I don’t think it will be the last time we visit.

We upped anchor at 0705pm and set sail to Nova Scotia. There was no point in faffing about so it was right into watches with Lionel on watch and me sleeping. We were expecting a 15 knot wind just behind the beam and we got it that night. My attempt to put in the first reef woke Lionel and he helped me achieve that. Dodging fishing boats is always a good sport but the ones we spotted on this passage were very well behaved and stayed at least a mile away. On the second night I spotted about seven lights on my starboard side, only two of them were showing on AIS as fishing boats. We were fast approaching the Canadian border and it was obvious that they wanted to cross and be on my port side. I watched carefully the ones on the AIS. They organised themselves with one of the boats showing AIS at the front and the other at the rear. The first boat motored across my bow, maybe a mile and a half away. Not close enough to give me any concern. He achieved his objective and I could just imagine him radioing the rest, “ok, boys, its safe, they don’t panic”. They all crossed one by one with the last boat being the other one with AIS. That’s organisation for you or it could just have been coincidence. The wind got up to about 18 knots on the second night, I was glad I persuaded Lionel to put in the second reef before he went down at 11pm. I put away some of the jib and Ruby sailed like a Princess, hitting 8.5 knots on occasions and averaging 6.9 knots overall. I had been so busy watching the antics of fishing boats I hadn’t realised out course had changed and we were being swept into the land by the current from the Bay of Fundy. I adjusted it considerably. The speed was decreasing as well, although the wind was the same strength. For about two hours I had 3.5knots of current against me. Not good. Of course, at 5am, when Lionel came on watch the current had decreased and the speed increased. He did have some tricky navigation to complete to avoid the buoys along the coast as we were nearer land than we intended to be at this point but he managed…. my hero. We anchored in Shelburne on 12^th July at 1255pm, 42 hours passage, average speed 6.9 knots. It’s amazing what can be achieved on a flat sea with a good wind on the beam. Well done us. Sleep please.

looking back to the mouth of the bay from Shelburne

Sleep was not to be had. Lionel had hoisted the yellow, quarantine flag as we turned into the bay. This means that we are not checked into the country where we are sailing. He telephoned the number and spoke to a very nice customs lady who asked lots of questions then decided we needed a visit from her colleagues. Would we please tie up at the yacht club? We radioed the club and explained the situation and they saw no problem with us tying up on the outside of their long pontoon.

Shelburne Yacht Club

 Once we had achieved this, we decided to have lunch before the officers appeared as we had stories of fresh food being confiscated and destroyed. That arrived about an hour later, asked us lots of questions, filled in lots of paper work, stamped our passports, gave us our cruising licence number which was to be shown in a window at all times, wished us well and left. That was our welcome to Canada. Quick, efficient and friendly. Off we went to anchor again and sleep. Goodnight.

we are in Canada

As others see us...

Two Albertans in search of their sea legs…

Today is June 28.  Nearly two months ago, we had the experience of a lifetime aboard Ruby Tuesday in the Bahamas.  The fact that this blog is being written so long afterward is a testimony to the messy busyness of our daily lives.  We have had many moments of reflection in the past two months on the purpose of this endless striving.  While we are landlocked in Calgary (home to cows, Christians, and country music), we are fervent outdoor people and the Rocky Mountains are on our doorstep.  We take full advantage of fabulous hiking, skiing, and climbing when we can tear ourselves away from work.  However, nearly every summer since our children were in diapers, we escaped to the west coast and took to our kayaks.  The ocean feels truly liberating, with life simplified to what you can carry and time marked by sunrise, sunset, wind and weather..…with the opportunity to untether from the quotidian shackles and blow the dust of everyday life off the soul (to paraphrase Picasso).  I had an inkling that sailing would be a natural extension of this experience, on a larger canvas.   I was correct.

Elsie and Lionel have much to teach us of the fine art of living well and we are lucky to have joined them, on their journey, albeit briefly.  In a fit of enthusiasm, I took a week long sailing course more than a decade ago but, much to my disappointment, the other participants were more interested in getting to the nearest port and bar as early in the day as possible.  Elsie and Lionel are real sailors, as I knew they would be.  We observed a purposeful efficiency to the daily routines aboard dear Ruby and a comfortable sharing of duties and negotiated decision-making – shake out one reef or two?  genoa or no genoa? anchor here one day or two?  As newbies, we tried to stay out of the way as much as possible.  I think Lionel may have wished to cast us overboard only once or twice.  I could be mistaken.  The first day was an inauspicious start.  With unfavourable winds we motored to our first anchorage and Ruby pitched and rolled, humbling the landlubbers into spending that day flat on deck, gripping the lee rail with grim determination, retching our innards out.  Elsie looked concerned.  Lionel’s expression was more judgemental.  However!  In spite of a rough first night in the aft cabin, rolling and bumping into each other like two running shoes in a washing machine, we recovered for day 2 and the rest of the trip.  Albert, in spite of his inherent resistance to flaky, new-agey therapies, concluded that the wrist bands do work perfectly, as long as they are put on before the boat is moving, not after one is afflicted.  Once recovered, and interested in learning to work the boat, we watched and clumsily tried to assist.  It did take me (engineer and mathematician) two days to work out the function of the topping lift.   Lionel, ever patient:  “take in the main sheet please….no, the other side…No, the Other line….yes, clockwise around the winch.  I’m sure we learned something, even if we are not yet capable of commandeering a toy sailboat on a calm pond. 

I had the fantastic opportunity of getting up with Elsie to sail at night.  Complete magic.  Ruby performed a graceful, swooping corkscrew dance on the water, and you felt as if you could touch the star blanket overhead.  In my mind I heard a favourite piece of music:  Metamorphosis by Philip Glass.  Tranquil, meditative, surreal.   I was spirited away.   Ruby is a beauty.  She is so wonderfully designed for us unsteady bipeds.  I kept discovering new spots to wedge into comfortably while underway.  She is never silent – I miss the gentle squeak of her rudder at night and the special swish and gurgle when she is settled into a broad reach. 

Today, finally, work is done and I have just packed a sea-bag for our forthcoming kayaking trip to Prince Rupert (long underwear, pile pants and jacket, woolly hat, foul weather gear) and I am fondly remembering swimming and snorkelling in bathwater-warm turquoise ocean.  Hmm.  We will be paddling down the outside passage from Prince Rupert to Klemtu and then taking the inside passage ferry back.  I insisted to Albert that we make a trip plan, with charts, marine radio, and a ferry booking.   Not show up and 'wing it' like a pair of ageing teenagers, like we normally do.  So, he made a plan.  And now we must hustle and bend to our paddles (20 nm per day) to catch the once weekly ferry in Klemtu on July 13.  Hmm.  These wilderness trips are, of course, wonderful and unique experiences in themselves but they most definitely do not include the pleasures of Elsie’s daily sundowner rum punches, warm breezes, and spending the day on deck in shorts and a T-shirt.

Would I go sailing again?  Unequivocally yes, at the drop of a hat.  Albert?  The mountain guide is still somewhat conflicted.  I still jump into action if the water is left running anywhere in the house………

June 2019

In which we cruise up the New England coast, with a side trip to NYC.

We started June anchored in Newport, Rhode Island.  On Saturday, 1^st, we went for a long walk along Belle View Avenue and back along the cliff walk, exiting at 40 steps.  Sunday dawned foggy, so we waited for that to clear before heading ashore then walked to the northern end of the cliff walk to complete it, only to find that it was still foggy here.  Also, being Sunday, the world and his yappy dog had the same idea so we cut it short and returned to base.  On Monday, it was time to head up river.  We picked up at 10:15 and, with 1 reef in for a WNW’ly F4 sailed through the bridge.  Passing Cananicut Island the wind dropped and we were tempted to shake the reef out.  It was well to resist this as, as soon as we cleared it the wind increased to F5 and we had to put in a second so it was a spirited sail up to Goddard memorial State Park, dropping anchor at 13:20.

Anchor up at 09:00 on Tuesday and motored the couple of miles to Apponaug to be hauled out.  As before, they were very helpful and we were soon high, dry and ready for some work. Tuesday and Wednesday were mostly spent scraping and rubbing down, badly needed with several layers of anti-fouling to come off.  There were also a couple of other jobs to be done: draining and re-filling saildrive gearbox oil; replacing anode on propeller and freeing up bolts on steering gear so that I could take up some slack which had developed.  The boatyard helpfully loaned tools, an impact driver to remove to drain plug on the saildrive and a blowtorch to encourage movement of seized bolts on the steering quadrant.  These all accomplished, on Thursday we painted on the new anti-fouling and then packed and tidied, we were ready to leave Ruby on Friday.

 I needed to make one of my periodic visits to Scotland, to see Mr Lowe, the surgeon who had operated on me 5 years before and Elsie had arranged a house sit at New Rochelle, NY, to keep her entertained in my absence.  Public transport being as it is, in the States, I had hired a car for the trip down and used it to top up the propane cylinder before departure.  We then had a not very pleasant drive down the I95 but a much more pleasant welcome on arrival.  The house was very comfortable and our hosts, also sailors, took us out to dinner at their posh club.  Despite us putting on our best clothes (I even ironed my shirt!) we attracted a few side-long glances, but that didn’t put us off our very strong rum cocktails and dinner.  Interesting conversation – despite being life-long sailors, they were of the racing, rather than cruising, kind and had difficulty with envisaging sailing overnight on long passages.  They dropped us off at their house, then returned to the club and their moored motor yacht, on which they were setting off the following day for a river cruise.

While Elsie took the dog, Huck, out for his evening walk, I read the welcome notes in which it mentioned to be aware that he had a tendency to pick up bones.  Sure enough, he returned with one in his mouth.  Elsie couldn’t get him to drop it.  Could I?  I tried.  Growl.  Tried again. Snap, and a large hole appeared in the back of my left hand.  It was now 10 O’clock on a Friday evening, in America, with notoriously high healthcare costs and our medical insurance is only for hospitalisation and repatriation, not minor injuries. We sought advice from our hosts, by phone, but their preferred clinic was closed, so it was off to the local hospital.  As an ambulance would, no doubt cost hundreds of dollars, I decided to drive myself.  Our car was in the garage, which I knew how to open from the outside but not the inside. After a fruitless search for the relevant button, we used the emergency pull cord and drove out.  We now had to close the roller door. Again, I had to resort to ‘manual’ and, in my haste managed to trap a finger and heard the crunch of bone. Things did improve a bit after this as, marvellously, the local administration had a policy of paying medical costs for dog bites (they don’t want them unreported) but, by the time I had been treated and collected a prescription, it was 2 the following morning before we got to bed.  As I was flying out the following night, the fact that this was 7 AM UK time was relevant. On Saturday, I did indeed fly out for a scarce week in Scotland, leaving Elsie to have a great cultural week in The Big Apple.  I flew back in the following Friday, allowing me a day of culture at MOMA then, with another hire car, we returned to Ruby on Sunday 16^th.

Street art NYC

Our plan had been to have a fairly relaxing day on Monday and launch on Tuesday morning.  A look at the weather forecast showed that Tuesday was likely to be very wet so, with car available, we dashed out to do a big shop and prepared for a Monday morning launch.  Once again, the yard proved flexible and we were back in the water by 10:30.  We motored back to our anchorage at the park to check and top up the gearbox oil then it was off to Newport taking advantage of the ebb tide.  For about 4 miles.  Then something made me check bilges to discover that the engine was blowing out its coolant.  Back to the anchorage.  Wait for it to cool down.  Top up.  Run engine for 20 minutes. Then, cautiously, set off again.  This time, the coolant stayed where it should be and we made it back to Newport at 18:00.  Tuesday was, as predicted, fairly horrible so we just sheltered.  On Wednesday, we managed a few jobs, including replacing a hose on the salt water cooling system and installing plugs, that Elsie’s brother had kindly made, into the boarding ladder to, hopefully, stop it trying to eat our new dinghy. We had hoped to move on East on Thursday but again the weather was foul so we delayed.

We eventually got away on the Saturday morning, hoisting sail at 09:00 in a NW’ly F4 to broad reach down the river, gybe and continue along the coast, almost to the entrance of the Cape Cod Canal.  We anchored in Wings cove at 15:45, hoping for a relaxing end to the day.  It was not to be asst arrival checks showed that, once again, the engine was blowing out cooling water.  As we would have to motor through the canal, we could continue no further until this was fixed. We would receive no assistance the following day, it being Sunday so I would have plenty of time to play before handing the problem over to someone competent.  Once things had cooled down sufficiently, I started retracing steps and removed t he ‘boot’ on the end of the heat exchanger, where I had found debris weeks earlier.  The solution (I hoped) was in front of me.  The raw water and ‘fresh’ water cooling systems are separated here by the ‘boot’ being gripped on a bronze seal.  If this had not been done up tight enough…  Cleaned, tightened, run.  A few drips only – hurrah. 

Storm front, Wings Bay.

The tidal current through the canal determined our start on Sunday. It would turn in our favour at 09:00 so we readied at 8, gave the engine a good run and set off at 08:30.  We hoisted , reefed, sail before entering, just in case we had to shut down in a hurry and proceeded through at 1800 RPM, so as to not put too much stress on our still suspect engine. This gave us a speed through the water of about 5 ½ knots though, with a following wind and a building current, we saw 10 knots at times.  This was not quite enough to keep ahead of a following pusher tug and barge and we had to pull over to let them pass with about a mile to go.  Once clear of the canal we hoisted full sail, stopped the engine and accelerated away at 8 knots with a F3-4 on the beam.  This got us into Provincetown at 15:00 and we anchored just off the eastern end of the inner breakwater at the Town.  This time, there were no nasty surprises so we took what we thought was a well-earned rest.  On Monday, 24^th, we had a long stroll around the town in the morning and a shorter one to the supermarket in the afternoon.  As the wind was forecast to go southerly overnight, we picked up anchor and motored over to the town float for water (paid for with quarters in a slot – we paid $3 for about 50 gallons) then to the south of the harbour for a more comfortable berth for the night.  Looking ahead to the following day, it seemed that we would get a good sail over to Boston but could expect rain and, maybe, thunderstorms any time after 14:00.  We, accordingly, rose at 5 and were under way at 05:35.  We started with full plain sail but once we were sure that the wind was steady S3, brought out the cruising chute and had a great broad reach across. The wind started to die with about 8 miles to go so, with rain approaching, we put away the chute and reverted to motor-sailing under main and genoa.

Sunset, Provincetown

Boston harbour is a huge expanse but nor really welcoming to visiting yachts.  I glanced at marinas and saw that we could expect to pay anything from $150 – 280 per night, way above our budget.  There were no other anchored yachts but we had information showing where others had stopped in the past.  This gave conflicting advice so we worked out where we thought we would be least in the way – on the north side, clear of all commercial activity.  That evening, a coastguard boat stopped by.  I had put a flashing light in the cockpit to make us more conspicuous, and he objected to that, but not our position.  Two mornings later, the harbourmaster’s launch called by – his colleague had stopped the previous evening and wanted us to move (we had been on board).  He saw no problem, himself.  That evening, just as we were about to have dinner, said colleague arrived, siren blaring and shouted at us through his bullhorn.  We were to move to his designated spot, almost opposite the fuel dock, where we would be in the way of queueing ferries.  His harbour, we moved. The lack of provision for visitors extends to landing places for a dinghy.  There is one finger pier with space for a boat on each side.  One side is limited to 30 minutes; the other to 4 hours.  As each usually had a, hard, boat moored, we just snuck to the inshore end and tied to a cleat but it wouldn’t work if several dinghies wanted to park.

Boston by night

While in Boston, we took in some of the local history.  On Wednesday, we took a walking tour of the downtown area with an entertaining, and quite informative, guide.  A slow stroll back along the route took us to the ‘Cheers’ bar where we lunched and took photos, along with most of the clientele. 

Cheerts!

Thursday morning, we toured the State House (the ‘Parliament’ building for the state) once past a very easy security check, we were allowed to roam almost at will and had a guided tour with a very quietly spoken and somewhat confused guide. Lunch was a hotdog in the park, accompanied by some nice, easy, light jazz, then off for another tour in the afternoon t o look at some of the sites relevant to African American history in the town.  On Friday, we self-guided our way out through the north side of the town, past Paul Revere’s house and church to Bunker Hill, where the British won the opening battle of the war of independence but not convincingly enough to deter the colonials from continuing.  Down the hill, we visited the naval museum but missed out on visiting the historic ships as time was getting on.

Bunker Hill memorial

Our plan was still to get up to Canada as soon as practicable, but the weather was not co-operating.  The wind was either light or from ahead.  It looked, however, as though we might get a 24-hour slot of sailable wind starting on Saturday morning.  In order to take advantage of this, we picked up anchor at 16:20 on Friday and headed out to shorten our voyage by 10 miles or so.  At first, we had light wind right ahead but, once clear of the harbour, we were able to put it on the bow and hoisted full sail.  As we did so, the auto-pilot tripped out on low voltage (even though the batteries were fully charged).  Checking to battery monitor showed wildly fluctuating voltage and the charge controller was dark. We immediately shut down the engine to investigate.  Nothing obviously wrong and at the, second, re-start the problem disappeared.  Fingers crossed it was a one-off glitch but, when time permits, I will do a thorough investigation of wiring.  The wind built and veered, to give us a beam reach and 8 knots, so we passed by our intended stop and continued on to Marblehead.  This shallow bay is 2 miles long X ½ mile wide so you would think there would be plenty of space to anchor.  The entire area is, however, covered with over 2300 moorings.  The plan was to creep past the ‘no wake’ buoys and drop the hook before the mooring field.  Being New England, even this space was taken by fishing floats but, after a little searching, we found just enough space, anchored and tidied up.  A helpful local stopped by and told us that, as it was now 8 PM, we could take a club mooring.  As thunderstorms were forecast, we took this option and had a late supper.  A quick check of the weather showed that our hoped-for window had disappeared and we could only expect about 4 hours of wind around the middle of the following day.   While taking the mooring made us more secure in the event of strong winds, they completely died in the night and I was woken by the tump, tump, tump of the mooring buoy on the bow.  Oh well.

We woke to the sound of thunder and a sailing wind so let go at 07:20.  The first couple of hours went well and we hoped for a decent distance but, at the time the wind was forecast to start, it died so we popped into Rockport harbour and anchored in Sandy Bay. As usual, there were many fishing floats but we found a big space to anchor and had a lazy afternoon.   I was woken at midnight by a grating sound.  Fortunately, this came not from the keel but the anchor cable which must have wrapped itself round a rock.  Winds were light so we left it until morning, then shifted closer to the old harbour.  After a leisurely breakfast, we dinghied ashore and strolled round this very touristy town.  We passed on the tarot readings and lobster rolls but did manage to locate a grocery and a laundromat.  Ashore again in the afternoon to take advantage of the latter so, with nearly full fuel and water tanks ad clean clothes, we are ready to head up to Canada.  What could possibly go wrong?

June Stats: 

Over Ground   194
Log                  212

May 2019

In which we say goodbye to the Caribbean for another season and head up the East coast of the USA.

May started with us, including Albi and Di, at Warderick Wells in the Exumas. The winds and showers of the previous day had abated and we went for a good walk down the island, pausing to re-instate our driftwood tribute at Booboo Hill. In the afternoon, Albi, Di and I went for another snorkelling trip to the Emerald Rock area. Again wonderful with an amazing variety of fish and corals. On Thursday, we let go late morning and sailed, under genoa only, downwind to Norman cay. As we arrived, the chart plotter turned itself off. And on. And off again. Fortunately, I had charts on my phone and was able to navigate in. Experimentation showed that the plotter was completely unusable so I dug out the spare, which didn’t display AIS. We would just have to do without that. The anchorage was comfortable enough but not spectacular. On Friday we had an earlier start and sailed, alternately broad reaching and goose-winged almost to Nassau, turning just a couple of miles short to anchor at Rose Island beach. This seemed crowded but, as 4 O’clock chimed, most of the tourist boats disappeared and we were able to work our way into a prime spot. From here we swam across to the fringing reef and spent an hour or so drifting along it for another wonderful display.

Saturday dawned and it was the end of our guests’ holiday. We motored into Nassau harbour and dropped them off at a fuel dock, then headed north east up to Egg Island at the top of Eleuthera. With the wind blowing at 12 – 15 knots from the south east, we had a perfect beam reach and, as we were following the line of the Eleutheran fringing reef, we had flat seas. Bliss. The shelter at Egg Island wasn’t as great as we had hoped but rigging a bridle on the anchor cable kept us head to swell and made for a comfortable night. We were up at dawn on Sunday for the 50 mile leg to Little Harbour. We made slow but steady progress, initially under full plain sail, then with Main and cruising chute, with a following F3. The tide was flooding on arrival so we had a smooth entrance. We couldn’t work our way in far enough at our intended spot so continued 4 miles further north to anchor in the lee of Lynard cay. There were several other boats there but we managed to find a secluded spot. On Monday, we motored the twenty miles to Marsh Harbour and anchored while I got my diving cylinder filled and we went for provisions at Maxwell’s, the biggest supermarket in the Bahamas. We got a little carried away and bought rather more fresh meat, fruit and dairy than we could reasonably eat between here and the USA, where imports of these are banned but at least we wouldn’t go short on voyage. A further 5 miles of motoring took us to Archers Cay to anchor for possibly our last night in the Bahamas this year. Today was the fifth anniversary of my operation. At the time of diagnosis, I was told that my chances of surviving this long were about 20%, so we had a little celebration, with a bottle of wine to wash down dinner. The celebrations were cut short by a plague of flying ants suddenly arriving and infesting the saloon. Much spraying of insecticide and sweeping up of ants ensued.

As always with a long voyage in prospect, we had been watching the weather closely. A good slot had come and gone a week before. We couldn’t take it not only because we had guests on board but we would have been in the period of purdah after the expiry of our previous American Cruising Permit. Another slot was approaching. Not ideal, they seldom are, but we might be able to break the back of our northern passage, getting as far as Beaufort N.C. or even Norfolk, Va. The forecast was for light winds to start with and maybe for a while in the middle but we might be able to get past Cape Hatteras without gales, headwinds or having to traverse the Intra Coastal Waterway, saving 4 days of motoring. Another early start to motor the 35 miles to Spanish Cay, our last possible fuel stop, only to find that we had to wait while they took fuel from a barge. I was in two minds whether to continue, both because of the delay and because their tanks would be stirred up, possibly contaminating the diesel. I figured that, as there was a long distance from tanks to pump, we would be getting our fuel from what was already in the pipeline and we had a leisurely lunch, getting away after 1600. This only just gave us time to exit at Shroud Cay in daylight but we managed it and settled for heading north using motor assistance in light easterly winds. Surprisingly, these freshened and we were able to stop the engine and be sailing by sunset.

We hoped to gain assistance from the Gulf Stream but, to begin with it was too far to our west. It then swung east, so we decided to head directly north to intercept it, 300 miles away and, hopefully, hitch a ride all the way to Hatteras. The first night we made slow but steady progress, then had to put a reef in for the next 24 hours as the wind increased. On Thursday afternoon, the wind died to a F2 and, to make our ‘slot’ we motor assisted. The wind increased again overnight and by midnight we were feeling the effects of the Gulf Stream which gave us a nice push as we turned to follow it but more motor assistance was required on Friday. We turned north again on Saturday morning, broad reaching towards the entrance of the Chesapeake. As we followed the coast, the wind veered and gave Elsie a great F4 beam reach through her night watch. We passed the Chesapeake bridge at 08:00 on Sunday, dropped sails at 10:15 and motored up the Elizabeth river to berth on a private dock, owned by the OCC port officers, Greta and Gary, at 12:30. These lovely people not only provided us with somewhere to stay but gave us lifts to fill our propane cylinder and other shopping. Greta even did our laundry, not an enviable task given the state of it after nearly a week at sea. Immigration came to visit us that afternoon and I went round to the local CBP office on Monday morning to obtain a new Cruising licence for Ruby. This time, I made sure that it was only valid for 8 months, so that we would not have to delay re-entering the States as we did this year.

Customs House, Norfolk

It had been a poor spring on this coast and the temperature dropped again overnight so we were walking around in jackets, long trousers and shoes with socks which all felt very uncomfortable. We also had to dig out the duvet and even ran the central heating on Monday evening. Getting the chart plotter fixed was a priority, as we find AIS invaluable. What I wanted was to combine the good bits of our two plotters to make one that worked. A local company couldn’t do that but sold us yet another one that did. I called Pete, the man from Oriental that worked with us there. He thought that he could fix the on/off button problem so I sent that set off to him. The VHF radio, which hadn’t been receiving for 6 months, was sent to Standard Horizon in California for them to fix. Each of these required walking twice to the post office: once to obtain a box, bubble wrap, etc and once to post. As it was 1 ½ miles each way, we got plenty of exercise. Having got these, and a few other little, jobs done we took some time for sight seeing, including the nautical museum and the battleship Wisconsin.

Again, we were watching the weather, hoping for a good slot to sail up the coast, hopefully as far as New York. Several twelve to twenty four hour periods looked possible but it seemed that if we left Chesapeake bay on Sunday morning we might get all the way. We had farewell drinks with Gary and Greta on the dock on Friday evening, then went for a valedictory American breakfast on Saturday morning at a diner – stack of ‘cakes, eggs bacon and maple syrup. To catch the tidal currents, we left the dock at 12:30 and motored down to the bridge, anchoring in the lee of one of the islands where it changes to a tunnel. The forecast had now changed to give a sailing wind that evening so, after a little rest and a good meal, we picked up at 19:30 and headed out.

The tide had now changed and we had to battle it for the first few hours crossing the mouth of the bay. As soon as we had cleared it, the wind veered and we were now on a broad reach and we continued, either broad reaching or goose-winged running, for the next 24 hours. Fog descended on us in the small hours of Sunday and stayed for 24 hours, making us very thankful for the AIS and radar, though there was little traffic. On Monday morning, as we passed up the coast of New Jersey, came another decision point. If we turned 20 degrees to port, we could be at Atlantic Highlands, the gateway to New York, in 6 hours; 20 to Starboard and we could be in Block Island, gateway to Rhode Island in 24. We had time to spare but, given how long it might take us to negotiate New York and Long Island Sound, we opted for the latter.

A month earlier, when servicing the main engine, I had had to replace the impeller for the raw water pump as blades were missing but had never got round to finding and removing them. This bit of laziness now bit as, on starting the engine to charge batteries, no water emerged from the exhaust and it quickly over-heated. Out with the portable generator which, fortunately started first time.

I was wakened on Tuesday by the sound of Elsie taking reefs out of the mainsail, as the wind had dropped. This proved to be only temporary and had to soon put one back in. As we approached our destination and I considered how to drop the main without using the engine, the wind suddenly increased further to 30 knots so I quickly went from one to three reefs, almost solving that problem. When it came to dropping the last bit, it came down neatly enough on a close reach. We entered Great Salt Pond at Block Island under a small amount of genoa, starting the engine only once inside to lower and set the anchor. A few hours rest, then a tidy up and investigation of the engine. The missing impeller blades were found in the heat exchanger and the cooling system was working again. The sun was shining and the temperature was, supposedly 17 C, but it felt might cold to us and we snuggled down with the heating on that night.

We stayed 2 nights at Salt Pond. We didn’t go ashore but shared evening drinks with Connie and Tony, a Canadian couple on a 38 ft Wauquiez, Sage. On the 23^rd, there was a nice SW’ly F4-5 so we headed downwind to Newport under just the Jib. We spent the rest of the month here, just enjoying the views of beautiful boats, having walks ashore and another American diner breakfast at Bishop’s. It being Memorial Day weekend, there were specials on at the supermarket, including fresh lobster at $6.99 a pound so we made pigs of ourselves with that, stuffed clams, king prawns… I also experimented with making American style breakfasts on board with bacon, eggs and pancakes with syrup. A good start to the day, but no lunch required.

Bishops Diner

On Friday 31^st, we took a bus up to Providence, about 30 miles away. We had intended to do a self guided walking tour but the ap wasn’t working well so instead we went to the state art museum which is located at the college of design. This had an eclectic mix if everything from pharoic Egypt to video installations, by way of byzantine art, impressionists, 19^th century furniture and patchwork quilts. There were also a couple of exhibitions of silverware and picture printing methods.  I guess if you were taking someone who is never going to another museum it covers all the bases. 2 Monets, 2 Picassos, 2 Rodins, etc. We agreed on the return journey that we have been spoiled by seeing some of the greatest pieces of art at so many major galleries and are now disappointed when we are in the presence of something not quite top rate.

Monthly stats

Over Ground    1296
Log                   1045

April 2019

In which we mooch about the Bahamas and have our first ever long term guests.

We started April at anchor off Rum Cay, one of our favourite Bahamian islands. We had only wandered round the village at Port Nelson before but decided to explore a little further. Following the road to the west took us through scrub, with the occasional house on one side and semi-cleared plots on the other. After about a mile, where the chart shows the road ending, we came to what seems to have been an attempt to build a resort, on the lines of Rodney Bay or Jolly Harbour. There were large excavations into the limestone to make a marina area and equally large levelled areas for shops or housing. It had obviously been abandoned years before. We continued west and found a pleasant beach to walk along, though we didn’t see anywhere to land a dinghy. On return, we managed to follow the beach all the way back to Port Nelson, scrambling back up to the road near the cemetery. A quick stop at Kay’s, this time to exchange a few books, clocked us over 6 miles. Not bad exercise in the heat. Back to Ruby for lunch, a little sunbathing and a bit more bottom polishing. Nearly done now.

Fossilised palm leaf, Rum Cay

The forecast for Tuesday 2^nd gave a SE’ly F3 and, with only 20 miles to go, seemed like a good time to head off to Conception Island, another favourite. We started well enough, using genoa rather than cruising chute as we could see large clouds on our route. As we passed the end of Rum Cay, these produced a NE’ly wind followed by heavy rain. The rain soon cleared and the wind veered round to the east, but although we set the genoa again it never really filled and we had to motor, slowly to conserve fuel, most of the way. We were shocked, on arrival, to see lots of boats. We had never had to share the anchorage with more than about 3 before but now there were 12. We managed to find a spot not far from where I reckoned would give protection when the wind rose in 36 hours time and were relieved when a 14^th boat arrived for luck.

The third dawned bright and calm and, now that we have a half decent dinghy, decided to explore the interior of the island. This required us to motor about 2 miles south, then negotiate a tricky entrance to the creek. Once inside, we slowed right down and enjoyed a leisurely cruise for another mile or so upstream. I had spent years, in Nigeria, living with mangrove swamps but these were beautiful, with clear water, nesting frigate birds and lots of turtles. One of these swam with us for a while.  Back out and up the coast a bit, we found a nice beach to land on and had it all to ourselves for the rest of the morning. Back for lunch, got the SCUBA set out to finish the bottom cleaning (not comfortable doing the keel with snorkel) then dinghied off in the other direction to explore the reef. It was OK, but not as good as some we have seen this year. A diversion on return took us to there the main beach, where some Americans were playing cricket. We wondered whether to offer advise but decided instead to cross over to visit the small beach on the north east side. This, again, was deserted so we decided that we had had a pretty good day, despite the crowds. The following day was spent more quietly, with just a trip down to our ‘private’ beach.

The weather forecast indicated that the weekend would be calm, followed by westerly winds. This would not be comfortable, so we decided to move while we could and, on Friday, picked up at 08:30 and headed towards Cat Island on a broad reach with an E’ly F4. Good progress was made up to Hawknest Point, interrupted only by landing our third ever fish, a mahi-mahi or dolphin fish. Having motored so much over the last few weeks, and with an unreliable fuel gauge, we needed a top-up so went in for fuel. It would not be my first choice of stop as it was the most expensive diesel we had ever bought, at $6.25 per US gallon and it is also a tricky entrance. The wind helped us alongside but hindered departure. We had to move the outboard from its usual spot, so that it didn’t act as a fender and had a little twang from the wind generator pole as it encountered a piling but managed with no damage. From here, we continued up to New Bight, anchoring at 16:55. As we settled to our evening cocktails, we heard music and realised that there was a Fish Fry occurring. We regretted not going ashore until the music was replaced with and amplified voice. This sounded like a revivalist preacher, so decided that we were betted where we were.

Fish for supper

On Saturday morning, we were just preparing to launch the dinghy when a couple from another yacht popped over for a chat. As they were heading ashore to go shopping, they gave us a lift and we all walked the mile or so to the store and back. On Sunday, we did launch and walked up the hill to the highest point in the Bahamas, at 106 ft, and Father Jerome’s hermitage. Monday, back ashore to try to sort our mobile networks. This failed due to a smiling but obstructive BTC employee, so it looked like we were going to lose some paid for data.

It was then time to move again. The wind was forecast to change to south westerly, which would be uncomfortable in our current position, so we headed 7 miles across the bay to anchor at McQeen’s, opposite a long sandy beach. On Tuesday, after spending an hour or so getting our ALIV data working, we beached the dinghy and went for a walk. It was just going to be a little stroll but somehow we talked ourselves into walking all the way to Hawknest point and back. This was 4 miles each way and we had failed to bring water so Elsie was drooping a bit on the way back. I gallantly strode ahead and picked her up in the dinghy (which answered the question of whether I would be able to launch it from a beach on my own), saving her the last mile or so. We were unsure of how comfortable we were going to be on the Wednesday, as the wind was going to swing further to the west and increase to 20 knots but, as the worst of it was going to be during daylight hours, decided to stay put, just adding a bit of anchor cable and a longer snubber to absorb any shock loads. There was nowhere within 50 miles to anchor that would give us protection so, if it didn’t work out, we would just have to pick up, put out and heave-to. It rained heavily, keeping us inside for the day but we were headed directly into the waves so it wasn’t too uncomfortable. This changed a bit at the end of the day, when the wind dropped and veered a little and we rolled for a few hours.

On Thursday, we decided to move again. We were now looking ahead at the weather, to ensure that we could get down to Georgetown to meet our guests in ten day’s time. Wed reckoned that we had time to go to the north of Cat Island, to visit one of our favourite places, Orange Creek, get back to the current area and be in a position to launch south in a week’s time. The wind was supposed to be diminishing through the day so, with a S’ly F4 we hoisted the cruising chute and headed north. An hour later, the wind was gusting F5, so we replaced this with full genoa. An hour after that we came out from the lee of Hawks Nest and the swell started to get uncomfortable. As there was nowhere up the coast that would give any respite from this, we made a quick decision to abort. Our starting point was directly into wind so we couldn’t just do a180 but, fortunately, I had prepared the main so we put that up with a couple of reefs in and headed as close to the wind as we could. The wind did now start to drop so we shook out one reef. We had to go round a shoal area before we could head directly to New Bight and the end of that shoal was our decision point: New Bight or back to McQueen’s. At that point, the swell was diminishing so we chose a middle way and just continued, close hauled, to Old Bight, a few miles south of N.B. This proved a good decision as it gave us somewhere new, opposite a pristine, deserted 4 mile beach. We dinghied on to it and walked into the village, getting a few vegetables but missing out on bread as the baker closed just as we returned. The following day, needing stores, we motor sailed the 4 miles up to New Bight and walked to the store. Hanging out a thumb on return gave an immediate result and we were taken back to the dinghy by a local policeman who enlightened us about earlier activity. The Governor General of the Bahamas was visiting. Groceries onboard, we did a further run to get cooking gas, outboard petrol and a couple of cans of water. As it was Friday, we decided to sample the fish fry. This turned out to be a total damp squib. We had a beer at the ‘Sailing Club’ which was the only place with music. A couple of policemen, still in their ceremonials from earlier, and a couple of local drunks were the rest of the clientele. Several other shacks were open, but there was little custom and no delicious cooking smell so we returned to Ruby for a quick pasta meal instead.

Brothers

On Saturday, after another water run, we headed back down to Old Bight. Unfortunately, several others had the same idea but, with a 3 mile beach, we were able to spread ourselves out and, on my afternoon walk, I only had to say ‘howareyou’ once. The wind was due to veer a little more so, on Sunday, we sailed the 6 miles back to McQueens, parking close to where we had before. On going ashore, we explored the other direction. Strangely, here the sand was just a bit softer and the beach a bit steeper, making it hard going so, on Monday, we went west again, though not as far as we had been before. I idled away most of the rest of the day while Elsie did a bit of cleaning – we don’t want our guests to think that we are total slobs. All the while, we are watching weather, both to make sure that we can be in the right place to collect our guests and to try to plan an itinerary with them that will show them some nice places without too much beating into wind. Tuesday was wet, alternating tropical downpour with just damp and miserable. The forecast showed light, cyclonic, winds but, by mid afternoon, they had settled into a North Easter. We had a six mile fetch from this direction and, as we were considering heading that way anyway, we picked up and motored to a point between New and Old Bight. Here, there was a laundromat and, on Wednesday morning, we dinghied in with several weeks worth of washing. The place was deserted but we managed to track down the owner, a very nice chap who also happened to be a pilot, who had done his British CPL at the same college as me. Unfortunately, mains power was down, so the driers couldn’t be used but we managed a couple of washes and used his outside hose for a couple of water runs. Back on Ruby, the noise from his generator was a bit intrusive, so we motored a mile south to our previous slot off the beach and festooned Ruby in the washing which dried pretty quickly in the 15 knot breeze. While Elsie watched, to make sure nothing blew away, I dinghied ashore and had a good walk along the beach.

It's a sign

On Thursday, it was time to head towards Georgetown to be ready for our guests. Anchor up at 07:30 and, with a light following wind, motored towards Haws Nest. 30 minutes later, a line of showers to our south veered and increased the wind, giving us a nice (well nice-ish, as it was raining) beam reach to the point. As the wind was dying, we put away the genoa and motored through the inside passage, which we hadn’t explored before. It saved a mile or so, but I wouldn’t want to do it except in good conditions. Once south of Hawks Nest, the wind obligingly backed again and we headed on track initially with one reef in main and Genoa, close hauled. For once, the wind behaved exactly as forecast, increasing to 18 knots, leading us to put a second reef in and then backing further so that, by the time we were in the lee of Long Island, we were on a beam reach. Entering the sound was straightforward and we motored a couple of miles to work our way in behind Man of War Cay to a small anchorage. This is well away from the Georgetown zoo and is noted to give good protection from almost all wind directions, though some reviews remarked that it was rolly. The reviews were correct, but the current kept us head to swell so it was bearable and, with a soft sand bottom giving great holding, very secure. An hour pouring over the next week’s weather didn’t yield any concrete plan. Each time we look, it changes just a little to make yesterday’s plan look unworkable.  On Friday, we motored down to Georgetown. Despite the brisk southerly wind, most cruisers were still in the north side of the harbour to be close to Chat n Chill, so we were able to drop our anchor in our usual spot, opposite Regatta point. It was a wet day and, being Good Friday, everything was closed, so we did little. Saturday was provisioning day. I did a water run while Elsie did a stores inventory then we hit Exuma Markets and bought food for the week. A heavy shower came through and, as we had forgotten the bailer, the bags got a little soggy. While I took the first load back, Elsie replenished our rum stocks. A break in the clouds later permitted us to go ashore for a little walk.

I was ashore again on Sunday morning at 8, to do last top-ups of water and petrol for the dinghy and then go to the airport to meet our guests. Hanging out a thumb got me there in 2 rides, strangely with the same woman who stopped to do a little tidying at her house on the way to church. The plane was 40 minutes late but we still had time for the day’s plan.

The forecast had continued to be fluid and there was no ideal solution. One option was to head north west along the Exumas, but we would have to cut in and out. With strong on-shore winds this would make timing of entrances tricky. Instead, we headed up to the north of Long Island. Winds were light, so it was a motor. The anchorage had a reputation for being rolly but, on arrival was flat calm and with winds forecast to be from the north east overnight we retired happy. As the wind picked up, we discovered that the reviews were correct and it became uncomfortable. Up early, to sail back to Cat Island, and we found that the wind had just backed sufficiently to make that voyage an into wind one. I had rigged the inner forestay and we set off with full main, genoa and jib. We reefed the plain sails a few hours later, then took down the jib. As the wind continued to back, we had to start the engine and motor-assist. Up past Hawks Nest, we tacked round and found that we could motor sail on the port tack back to our favourite spot on the East side of the bay. We spent the next 2 days here, walking to the village to find all stores closed on Tuesday and then beach walking, swimming and generally being lazy.

Albi & Di in tropical gear

On Thursday morning we motored the 4 miles up to New Bight to enable Albi and Di, experienced in Himalayan and Andes expeditions, to climb Mount Alvernia. An easterly wind was building so we then headed up the coast to find somewhere to launch from the following morning. That somewhere turned out to be a shallow cove at Big Bluff. 3 of us swam to the cliffs and had a little snorkel along them.

We had about 65 miles to go to Rock Sound, not somewhere to approach in the dark, so we rose at 03:30 on Friday, heaving the anchor up at 04:00. We were able to broad reach away with a building south easterly and made fine progress past little San Salvador (where we saw several yachts anchored seemingly exposed to the southerly swell), and the southern tip of Eleuthera. A passing convergence line veered the wind sufficiently to allow us to follow the coast up to Cape Eleuthera, then a short goose wing run took us to the Davis passage. The wind now increased, forcing us to put a reef in while sailing on a beam reach, and then further necessitating a second reef as we turned towards Deucy rocks. We had intended to proceed to Rock Sound village and go ashore for the Friday night Fish Fry but, with the wind now west of south, it would have given a 3 mile fetch and probable uncomfortable night so instead we headed to Pigeon Bay. We were not certain of the anchor holding here as there are reportedly large areas of hard bottom and a catamaran ahead of us was just giving up after several attempts. Whether by luck or judgement (Elsie on the bow looking for likely spots) we managed to find a patch of sand big and deep enough for our hook to dig in and we settled in. There were a couple of large rocks nearby, so we launched the dinghy and had an interesting swim round them seeing lots of flora and fauna including a lion fish. These are an invasive species and one is supposed to kill them on sight but, as they are covered in venomous spines and we had no spear or protective clothing, we left this one alone. Saturday morning, we picked up to motor the 3 miles to the town but, 20 minutes later, a shower approached and rather than get needlessly wet, we stopped and re-anchored while it passed. There were many more yachts anchored at the town than in previous years but we still managed to get a good spot and dinghied in. First stop was the laundromat, with just one load to keep us current, then to the supermarket for a good shop. Lunch, then back ashore for a longer walk round the town and ocean hole. A final run for me to the stand-pipes at the beach ensured that our water tanks were full.

Canadians on board.

On Sunday, with slack winds, we motored the 2 miles across the bay to Deucy Rocks, our first anchorage 2 years ago. This time, we tucked right into a little bay and, even though it was going to be a temporary stop, I went through the usual routine, including a good tug astern to make sure that the anchor was well dug in. Just the other side of a little bar were 3 or 4 dolphins, which seemed to be greeting passing yachts, so we launched the dinghy, motored over to their general area and swum to see if they wished to join us. They didn’t, so, with a brief look at a small reef, went back to Ruby to wait out a shower. Something made me put on my anchor position tracker, which was fortunate as, after a big gust, I saw us start to move. Our anchor, rather than digging in, had caught on a rock. This had now lifted and was jammed in the bill of the anchor. A very rapid engine start and pick up in pouring rain took us to safety but we had been far closer to Deucy Rocks than I would wish. This time, we anchored a prudent distance out and, after lunch, took the dinghy back to snorkel round the rocks. The water was a little murky with all the wave action from squalls but we saw a few fish, including another lion fish.

Monday morning was decision time. We had been watching the weather closely and I had hoped that we would be able to work our way up Eleuthera through the week and cross over to Abacos on Thursday in time to drop our guests off at the weekend. This now looked impossible as there was going to be a gusting 20 knot+ wind blowing onto the entrances to the Abacos making entry hazardous. With current wind, we could head down to Warderick Wells, on Exumas, and have an easy run up to Nassau at the end of the week. A phone call to the Park office gave the information that we would ‘probably’ get a mooring so we picked up and headed off. There were still showers and gusts and sails were up-and-down and in-and-out all day as we sailed back past the cape and down. If there was no mooring available, we would have an extra hour or so to motor round to an anchorage so I wanted to arrive by 17:30. This meant an occasional motor-assist to ensure an average speed of 6 knots. Only in mid afternoon, did we recall that Albi had a working satellite phone with him and we were able to confirm our mooring and relax. We dropped sails just offshore and motored into the mooring field, to pick up the last available buoy.

Warderick Wells was just as wonderful as we remembered. Unfortunately, the weather wasn’t. On Tuesday, we managed to walk a small loop, taking in Booboo Hill and finding our driftwood maker from 2 years earlier. While we contemplated whether to re-furbish it, a shower blew through and we took shelter. In the afternoon we took the dinghy, initially to Elsie’s favourite butterfly beach. Albi, Di and I then went out to Emerald Rock to snorkel round that and a nearby head. Very nice. On returnig to the mothership Di discovered the source of a smell in her cabin that she had been dicretely keeping quiet about: the previous week she had picked up an empty conch shell from a beach.  She now discovered that it had, in fact been inhabited by a hermit crab, now sadly deceased.  Crab and shell were returned to the ocean.

Hermit crab RIP

And so ended April.

Monthly Stats:

Across ground 338
Log                  329