Navigating Northward

We are back in George Town and waiting for weather to allow us to begin our trip to the north.  During our absence, a number of boats have left and George Town seems to be moving at a less frantic pace.  We still spend our afternoons at volleyball and basket making instruction, with mornings for chores or wandering along the beautiful beaches.  There are still Happy Hours or dinners with friends leaving in different directions.  There is a distinct feeling that the southern Bahama cruising season is coming to an end. We do some last minute provisioning including a trip to the new Prime Meat Market a few miles north of town.  This is a surreal event with transportation provided by the market on most mornings. I arrive in town to join a hoard of other cruisers who pile in the back of a pick-up truck – a truly third world experience which rapidly becomes a first world experience once we arrive at the clean, well stocked butcher shop and deli. There is nothing quite like this in the Bahamas and we hope they have sufficient business to be around in coming years. The afternnoon before we leave, friends from Mansfield unexpectedly show up at Chat and Chill.  They are part owners of a condo on Exuma Island and have taken the water taxi over to enjoy an afternoon on Stocking Island.  Yes, it is a small world.

Finally, the northeasterly winds abate, and we leave George Town at first light.  The cut out of Elizabeth Harbor into Exuma Sound is easily negotiated, and we head off on a lively, 50 mile long tight reach. The boat is flying under reefed sails.  We sail past our first opportunity to take a cut on to the Exuma Banks as the strong wind and opposing tidal current will make it too challenging.  Late afternoon we arrive at Dotham Cut where we presume we will be able to enter with a slack current, but that is not to be. Timing tides in the Bahamas is an imprecise art at best as there are no good tide tables and the topography causes great discrepancies over small distances.  We will enter the cut with wind opposing current, and the standing waves are visible off in the distance. 

Dotham Cut just before we had engine problems

We fire up the engine, but leave the sails up. Just as we approach the interior of the cut, we smell burning rubber and notice the engine temperature is rapidly rising.  The engine is shut down immediately, and I am left at the helm to negotiate the remainder of the cut under sail, going dead down wind.  Meanwhile, Burt is below with his head in the engine room.  It is hard to tell what the problem could be, so we decide to sail the rest of the way into the anchorage at Blackpoint.  While we understand how to anchor under sail and have done so with smaller boats, this will be the first time we do it with Exuberant, so it goes without saying that there is a bit of tension in the air.

By dusk, we are anchored a ways off from the rest of the boats, and Burt begins seriously analyzing the situation.  It doesn’t take long to figure out that the impeller has self-destructed, but it does take a long time to get all the pieces out of the raw water system.  With the broken bits removed and accounted for, and new impeller installed, the engine happily purrs back to life.  What has us baffled is why the impeller failed, as it had been changed out six months ago. 

We had hoped to spend a relaxing afternoon and evening in Blackpoint, our favorite settlement in the Exumas, but it is late and we have a few things to accomplish.  The dinghy is commissioned, and we head into the village to drop off garbage and some supplies that we wish to donate to the local school.  On the way, we see our friends on Delicia.  They have just crossed over to the Bahamas, and we had assumed we would not see them this season.  We stop to say “hi”, and the next thing we know we are onboard for a little wine and decompression time.  They offer to take the garbage and school supplies in the next morning, and once again, we appreciate the friendliness and support that one finds in the cruising community.

The next morning we leave with lively reaching winds and the flat seas characteristic of the banks for Warderick Wells, the headquarters of the Exuma Land and Sea Park.  We are seeing sustained speeds of over 8 knots and having a delightful time until we make the turn into the cut towards the park.  All of a sudden our autopilot decides it want to steer a course of 175 degrees despite our desire to head 60 degrees.  “Auto” will have none of this, so he gets shut down, and we hand steer the rest of the trip while contemplating the ramification of being without an autopilot for the long trip back to the States.  We have friends who have had an autopilot failure, and they are currently just south of us, waiting for the past two weeks for the arrival of parts. Once we get tied to the mooring ball, Burt begins tracing down our problem.  Sometimes you just get very lucky.  During our last two bouncy sails, a number of our chart books and cruising guides have rearranged themselves in a locker.  Once has slid down and lodged its metal spiral binding next to the fluxgate compass for the autopilot. Once the offending metal is repositioned, the compass operates properly and “Auto” is again conforming to our desires.

We have come to Warderick Wells to meet up with our friends on Amici.  We have spent time with them over the past year and a half and have encouraged them to come over to the Bahamas.  Reluctantly and with a bit concerned about navigating in such a foreign environment, they have just crossed over to the Exumas, but are now determined to head back to the States before seeing much of the area.  As trawler owners, the lack of amenities and weather concerns seem intimidating to them, and we hope our encouragement will help them to enjoy the time they do spend here. 

Besides Amici, we find the mooring field full of other boats we have met over the season, so once again, things get pretty social.  Saturday night we have a Happy Hour on the beach. 

Happy hour at Warderick Wells

Sunday is Easter, so one cruiser organizes a Sunrise Easter Service on Boo-boo Hill overlooking the Atlantic Ocean.   

Just after sunrise on Easter morning

It is a memorable way to welcome Easter, but it is also a bit sad.  Part of the service is a memorial to a lady we met in George Town and I instructed in basket making.  Pat was hiking with some good friends of ours in the park when she stumbled and fell.  Lapsing in and out of consciousness, she was eventually life flighted out of the park by the helicopter belonging to the Aga Khan and passed away upon arrival in Nassau. It was a minor accident with a fatal outcome. Our friends who are now back in the States and the park staff are still devastated, and we feel haunted by the specter of the events. Later in the day, spirits are rejuvenated with an invitation to all the cruisers from the park staff for dinner at the Warden’s residence.  They will provide the meat, while the cruisers bring all the sides.  Around sixty people dine on gourmet fare while enjoying the beautiful vistas from the outdoor deck.   

The beautiful site for a gourmet Easter dinner

Exuberant on a mooring at Warderick Wells - the warden's residence is the building on the right

We share a table with two German families who are on an extended cruise of the Atlantic coast. Once again, the folks we meet have such interesting stories to tell. 

Amici has decided to depart for Nassau as there will be a strong front approaching in a couple of days. Sadly, we are not able to convince them to explore any further. Meanwhile, we head a bit south to the mooring field at Cambridge Cay at the southern end of the park.  It will provide us with excellent protection during the frontal passage and there is much to do there to amuse us. We snorkel a reef named the Aquarium several times.  It is teeming with an array of colorful tropical fish and many beautiful corals and sponges.  There are several interesting trails for hiking.

We team up with Pike and Linda from s/vTioga to explore the area south of the park by dinghy.  We head about five miles south to Pipe Creek, an area of beautiful private homes, coral outcroppings, and miles of sand bores with the softest, powder sand you have ever seen.  

Burt shows off a star fish we found on one of the sand bores in Pipe Creek

 Pike and Linda know someone who was staying at Overyonder Cay and have an invitation to stop by. We pull into the harbor and ask staff if the friends are still in residence, but find out that they had departed a few days earlier.  Thus, we lose our opportunity to visit this multi-million dollar compound that is usually off limits to cruisers. We take our picnic lunch to Compass Cay Marina.  For $10 a person entrance fee, you get unlimited access to the island.  The focal point is large school of nurse sharks that surround the little dinghy dock. At high tide the sharks swim onto the now submerged dock, sunning themselves and docilely allowing us to pet them.   

You can even give a shark a hug - this little one posed with a number of people including a two year old little boy

We don masks and snorkels and swim with the sharks in the waters near the dock.  At one point, some visitors produce a package of hot dogs, resulting in a feeding frenzy.  The sharks crowd each other out as they beg, like dogs, for the hot dogs.  Bodies are vertical and mouths wide, revealing a small opening and tiny blunt teeth. You are sure you are hearing them say “Me, me, me – I want a hot dog too!”  It is hard to get too concerned about nurse sharks – they don’t bit their food, rather they inhale it like a vacuum.

These guys really seem to like hot dogs

After lunch, we head over to the ocean side of the island and a beautiful, crescent sand beach about a mile long. The waves are lapping on the shore and the water is so inviting that we dive in and serenely float in the translucent turquoise waters. Finally, we head to the north end of Compass Cay and a small mangrove creek that leads us to the ocean side Rachel’s Bubble Bath.  Here, at high tide, the ocean waves crash over a rocky barrier into a natural pool. There is foam (bubbles) and a rocking surge that make it an interesting place for a relaxing dip.  We are also joined by French Canadian friends we met in George Town. 

Playing in Rachel's Bubble Bath

Our friends on Gratitude that have the autopilot problem have come into the mooring field. Their parts have finally arrived and have been installed, but the system still doesn’t work.  Burt and Pike head over to the boat to see if they can help diagnose the issue.  From a distance I feel I can hear the gnashing of teeth.  Hours later, they return with the sad news that not much can be done – the “brain” is totally fried.  This is unfortunate news as it means they will have to return to the States hand steering the long passage – an exhausting conclusion to their season in the Bahamas.

The cold front is bearing down on us and our weather guru is saying this may be the most significant weather event of the season. In honor of the storm, we host a “Dark and Stormy” Happy Hour on a little sand spur beach near the mooring field.  Acquaintances and strangers alike are enthusiastic about the prospects, and most of the moored and anchored boats participate.  It is an interesting crowd with those attending hailing from the States, French and English Canada, German and Italian Switzerland, Scotland, Mexico, and Germany.  It bears witness to the varied and interesting people we meet while cruising. 

Our Dark and Stormy party at Cambridge Cay

The front comes through the next day, and we see a minimal increase in wind, a good rain which rinses off our salt accumulation, and lightning in the distance.  It certainly does not live up to our expectations as fortunately the front peters out just north of us.

The next day we continue our trek northward to Highbourne Cay.  We anchor next to Gratitude and invite them over for one last dinner before they begin the passage home.  Lauren and Van look tired and although they claim to not be terribly concerned about the trip, we see the strain on their faces.  The next morning Burt makes the final decision to replace our aging and slightly underpowered autopilot once we return to the States. 

We leave the Exumas via Ship Channel and a shallow water passage to the northern tip of Eleuthera. In the sunlight, we zig-zag between coral heads and gingerly transit water depths as little as 8 feet. With a 7 foot draft, that makes it a nail-bitter. We anchor in the lee of an island and leave the next morning for the ocean passage to the Abacos. The wind is a bit lighter than predicted so we motor sail most of the way, shutting off the engine the last two hours when the wind finally pipes up.  At one point we are joined by a pod of 8 – 12 pilot whales.  Pilot Whales look like dolphins that are twice as big and totally black, at least from my vantage point.  They come within 100 feet of the boat, checking things out, but do not frolic in our bow wave the way a dolphin would. With 8 foot ocean swells, it is a pretty rocky ride, and we are relieved to transit the cut into the Sea of Abaco, anchoring in the lee of Lynyard Cay.   

Lynyard Cay beach in the Abacos

We have arrived in the relatively tranquil and civilized Abacos. We spend a few nights anchored at Lynyard, decompressing, enjoying a lunch at Pete’s Pub, the only dining establishment in Little Harbor, and enjoying the relative solitude before heading off to Marsh Harbor, where after two weeks spent in isolated locations, we can dispose of garbage, do laundry, and replenish our produce supplies in a grocery that will rival anything found in the States. Marsh Harbor even has two stop lights – I don’t know how I will tolerate so many people and so much infrastructure.