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.
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| 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.
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| Happy hour at Warderick Wells |
Sunday is Easter, so one cruiser organizes a Sunrise Easter Service on
Boo-boo Hill overlooking the Atlantic Ocean.
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| 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.
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| The beautiful site for a gourmet Easter dinner |
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| 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.
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| 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.
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| 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.
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| 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.
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| 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.
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| 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.
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| 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.
