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You are welcome to apply any part of this article to your own personal use. Please do NOT publish any part of the article or apply any part of it to any non-personal use without the express written concent of the author.
It's Monday afternoon, a week since my last dispatch. We're at the dock in Ft. Lauderdale getting ready for a haul-out and preparing for our next adventure, shipping Volant to the Pacific Northwest.
This period could be characterized as magical. Old cruising habits, rusty from sitting at the dock, were working fluidly. In this mode we often don't know what we're going to be doing until we're actually doing it, and choices are decided upon merely by looking at each other and just knowing what's next. We were back in the groove.
We left Marsh Harbour in lovely weather. We had no one aboard but ourselves, so we could make up whatever agenda we wished, and could change it as easily. Sailing under jib only we headed for "The Whale," starting our trip to Florida. With a thundersquall threatening we motored through "The Whale" and set our anchor in the bay at No Name Cay.
We had been at No Name only once before, on our honeymoon 20 years before. That's when I caught our very first conch and had such trouble getting it out of the shell. No one had told me the trick of breaking open the shell in the back to allow a knife access for cutting the muscle that holds the critter inside. By the time we had gotten that first catch out of the shell, it was already cleaned and "cracked" (pounded thin to tenderize the meat). This time the water seemed a bit choppy for snorkeling, so we just waited out the weather.
When the squall passed, a quick discussion and a command decision by our able captain took us to Green Turtle Cay and the Bluff House - another honeymoon revisitation.
Rather than anchor out as we did before, we took a dock for the night. We didn't want our special clothes to get wet during the dinghy ride to the restaurant.
The weather was muggy at that point, so a dip in the pool was called for. It was unheated, but the water temperature was exactly right - brisk enough to be refreshing, yet warm enough that we weren't chilled by staying in for a while.
At the Bluff House restaurant there's only one seating for dinner at 1930 (7:30pm) with hors d'oeuvres served at 1800 (6pm). You must make your reservation, including your choice of appetizer and main course, by 1700 (5pm). The view from the patio at the top of the bluff overlooking the harbor was just as magnificent as it was 20 years ago. The night was marred only by a party on the docks with booming rap music that lasted into the wee hours.
An early morning departure to catch the rising tide through the shallow entrance started the next day. It was a short motor trip to Nunjack Cay, also called Manjack Cay on some of the charts. We hadn't visited this island before and wanted to be sure to check it out before leaving. The holding in the anchorage didn't allow us to set the anchor as solidly as we like. I went in the water with mask and fins to check it out - the anchor was lying on its side with a clump of grass keeping it from ploughing a much longer furrow. The sand layer over the marl was too thin for our anchor, so even spending the day was too iffy. We weighed anchor and headed out for Allens-Pensacola Cay.
The weather was perfect for a spinnaker run to Allens-Pensacola. We could do more of that!
Allens-Pensacola, only a few decades ago, was two separate islands. A hurricane silted up the shallow pass between the two, joining them. Again the anchorage wasn't that good so off again. This time we headed to Hawksbill Cay just off of Fox Town, one of our stops on our way to the Abacos, where we knew that the holding would be excellent. We got in just before a thundersquall hit. We considered ourselves very fortunate to be solidly in as the wind gusted during the squall well over 25 knots.
The next morning we headed for Great Sale. With weather threatening and no wind, we set the main and motorsailed. Rather than anchoring in the recommended Northeast Harbour on the southwest corner of Great Sale (so-called because it provided shelter in Nor'easters) we elected to anchor off the small beach on the northwest side of the island. The holding was very good, and fortunate as a few squalls hit us that afternoon.
I like to change the oil and filters on the engine every 100 hours, as close to the 50-hour mark as possible (the very first oil change was at 50 hours). When we shut down the iron stays'l there were 5,451.3 hours on it - close enough. So our able captain donned his chief engineer hat and our first made donned her assistant chief engineer hat, occupying their time with the requisite maintenance while the squalls passed through.
Saturday morning our captain got us up at 0530 (5am) for a run to West End. We left the anchorage before 0600, setting both mains'l and jib. Squalls were threatening, but we were able to steer clear. At about 0700 (7am) the VHF was alive with the calls of folks dragging in Northeast Harbour as squalls hit them. By leaving so early we managed to skirt virtually all the squalls that came across our path that day. We arrived at West End about 1530 (3:30pm) and took a dock for clearing out with Customs.
Clearing out was painless. As it turned out all we had to do was turn in our Immigration Cards, and there was a box outside the Customs station for just that purpose. But we still had a few Bahamian dollars burning holes in our pockets, so we went to the tiki hut restaurant for some conch burgers and Gombay Smashes (rum drinks with several types of rum and fruit juices - very easy to get "smashed" if you don't watch out).
Poking our nose out of the harbor into the Straights of Florida, the weather looked just perfect for a run across the Gulf Stream. It was another one of those magical moments. Rather than going around into the anchorage for the night we just looked at each other and knew that it was time to go.
Tucking a single-reef in the mains'l and rolling out the jib, we headed southwest on a close reach into 15-20 knots of wind. The full moon cast a silvery glow over the sea and the stars sparkled between the silver, gray and black clouds as we coursed through the comfortable seas at more than 7 knots, frequently over 8. Lovely, just lovely.
But around 0330 (3:30am) things changed. The wind became squally as the clouds thickened and the seas became lumpy. Leaving the mains'l as a steading sail, we furled the jib and motored into the thick of the Gulf Stream.
By morning we had reached the coast of Florida, the Stream setting us northward so that we closed about halfway between Boca Raton and Palm Beach. The Stream was particularly close to the shore that time, the current being felt as close as only a half-mile off. It was Father's Day and lots of dads were out fishing, so we had to keep an especially vigilant eye peeled.
By 1000 (10am) we came into the Intracoastal Waterway at Hillsboro Inlet, and were motoring down the ICW towards Ft. Lauderdale. At noon we were docked, a mere 30 hours after departing Great Sale Cay. A quick call to Customs and we were cleared, but we did have to appear in person at the Immigrations office in Port Everglades (the port at Ft. Lauderdale).
So what's next?
We're shipping Volant to Vancouver, British Colombia, Canada. The transport vessel is "semi-submersible" (a ship which is also a floating dry dock). Check out Dockwise Yacht Transport (www.dockwise.com). Loading date is expected to be about July 18-20, and unloading will be somewhere around August 10. A day after unloading we will be cruising the Pacific Northwest. Look for future dispatches towards the latter part of August.
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