Florida to Georgetown or The Book of Nots

We will be incorporating into this account a list of “Nots,” i.e. things we have learned not to do on a sailboat, and probably anywhere else. We will start out in Fort Lauderdale where, feeling that the boat was pretty much in shape, Chris decided to fix one last minor thing. There was a small problem involving the roller furling which Chris decided to fix by drilling a hole through the collar of the roller furling drum, which is at the base of the forward stay holding up the mast on the boat. This stay actually runs inside the collar, which Chris decided to drill a hole through. When one drills a hole in this manner one ends up drilling a hole through the forestay, which ultimately necessitates it's being replaced. Thus, number one in The Book of Nots is:

Do not drill a hole in anything before really thinking about what that hole is going through. If you feel a sense of hesitation before drilling a hole in anything, listen to it. It probably is not the usual neurotic hesitation we try so hard to overcome in life.

So, after our friend, Harry agreed to fly down and be hoisted up the mast, we were able to replace the forestay which took only ten seconds to destroy. Otherwise we had a great week of swimming at the beach and riding buses to do last minute shopping in Ft Lauderdale. Early in December, we went down the waterway through Miami and positioned ourselves in a beautiful little harbor, called No Name Harbor, which is part of a park in a place that we wish we could have spent more time enjoying. When we arrived we were greeted by four amazing gentlemen eating peanuts aboard an older 33 ft Cape Dorey sloop. These guys, remarkably, were all members of the Lexington, Kentucky sailing club and were to become our “buddy boat” for crossing the Gulf Stream. Their boat is named the SarahGay. Crossing the Gulf Stream is something we had been waiting for, for at least a week because the current in the Gulf Stream makes crossing it impossible in any wind coming from the north. So that night at 3 am, we and the SarahGay left No Name Harbor during a brief lull in the persistent northerly winds and were across the Gulf Stream by 4 pm the next day. We anchored behind a little island called Gun Cay where the Book of Nots began to continue. The second Not concerns anchoring. Our boat’s main anchor was a fifty-pound CQR which is one of the more expensive anchors available and highly recommended in many books we had read. Throughout our trip down the waterway we had trouble getting this anchor to catch and when we got to Gun Cay, which is more or less out in the middle of the ocean, dragging the anchor was a much more scary phenomenon. The first night we anchored at Gun Cay our anchor dragged three to four hundred yards before finally catching and holding us about two hundred yards off of a reef that was downwind of us. Since the anchor seemed to be holding well, we decided to stay in this position. The anchor held throughout the next day, but at 10 pm the next night it started dragging again. Luckily we have a computer hooked in to our GPS which talks to us with a rather bizarre male voice that says “Warning. Outside Zone.” whenever the anchor drags. Being outside the zone in the dark at 10 pm we decided to power up into the wind which was blowing about 25 knots and re-anchor. In the middle of powering up, a beeping sound came out of the cabin below which alerted us to the fact that our engine was overheating. We immediately turned off the engine, threw out the old CQR which just started bouncing along the bottom as we helplessly made our way toward the aforementioned reef. We then threw out a lighter anchor had, called a Bruce anchor, which, fortunately, dug in almost in the same spot, about 200 yards from the reef. We have since learned that the CQR anchor is not a particularly good anchor for holding in sand. So the second Not is:

Do Not assume that because something you own is the most expensive and “best” thing of it’s kind, that it will actually work the best for you.

Luckily, we also had a heavy Danforth anchor on board which we have been using ever since and have had no problems with it.

Our next Not naturally involves the overheating of engines. After duct taping one end of a garden hose to the end of a boat hook and attaching the other end to an alternate engine cooling intake, (all this was in the dark hanging precariously by that reef in 25 knot winds) we discovered that the strainer on the engine water intake line was clogged with seaweed. So Not Number Three is:

Do Not neglect to check a devise such as a strainer which in fact is designed to strain things and be checked often.

A little later on you will encounter another Not involving the checking of strainer which will demonstrate that this is a fine and complex art, not a crude and simple one.

So after our night of terror at Gun Cay, we set sail along with the SarahGay across the Grand Bahama Banks which are only ten to twenty feet deep. By the way, as soon as we got to Gun Cay, the water changed from the deep blue of the Gulf Stream, to a clear turquoise color, which we had our first wonderful swim in at Gun Cay. When crossing the Great Bahama Bank in a sailboat, one needs to spend the night in the middle of it which we figured would be no big deal, it being only fifteen feet deep. That night was probably the worst night we’ve ever spent on a sailboat. The bow of the boat where we sleep was probably oscillating up and down 8-10 ft every ten seconds sending ones inner organs into recesses in the body where they had never been before and initiating a ridiculous mental survival strategy which involves telling yourself that maybe this is the last wave, it will stop now. After four hours of finding out that this strategy was totally inaccurate, Divya moved to the floor of the sailboat and Chris slept in the cockpit giving the organs a moderate break in their inter-body explorations. I don’t think we were ever so glad to get underway as we were the next morning, along with the SarahGay whose crew said they slept like babies, although later there was some discussion of the accuracy of this metaphor, and my guess is “like babies in a washing machine” would be a more accurate simile. So the next day after our motoring and having a fine sail toward the end of our route, we arrived at Chub Cay and met our first Bahamian who, as we were approaching the dock, Divya with rope in hand, smiled to us and said, “I don’t do ropes, only gas.” (Which put us into a state of shock for all of two seconds because we were approaching a dock which was really just a bunch of posts that you could not just jump onto) until the guy finally said “Just kidding.” In order to understand the depth of our shock in these two seconds you should remember that Divya and I both suffer from post traumatic docking syndrome that we acquired in an episode that we will not describe here but, which most of you probably know about. We were soon to discover that most Bahamians, especially, those serving rich white people that appear out of nowhere in big boats, are sincerely friendly in their actions, but may not always display the initial courtesy (perhaps a little phony) that we are accustomed to encountering in our lives in the States. After clearing customs and immigration we were finally allowed to set foot on Bahamian soil, and we enjoyed a night at the marina having a great dinner with the crew of the SarahGay at the marina restaurant. The next day we decided to anchor off the beach where we met Todd who was single handing a 40 ft sloop named Burgoo. Todd has traveled all over the world and showed us his plans for a really cool, radically designed house, which involved living inside a 7,000 sq ft storage shed one end of which would be open to the water by way of a half inside half outside golf course and swimming pool. Todd doesn’t play golf, but figured this would be a great way to learn. Inside, in between the basketball court, the camp ground area involving tents set up for guests and his 4 year old daughter, and the boat area which might contain an old sailboat also for guests, the master bedroom would be up in a giant loft overlooking a small pond adjacent to a formal Chinese dining room. The kitchen and bathrooms would be industrial quality involving fixtures and appliances that could simply be hosed down with appropriate drains being placed in the floors. By the way, Todd is an accomplished hotel and restaurant builder and designer. He is very serious about building this house someday and his vision inspired us to think much differently about the structures we live in and how they often “box up” our lives.

Unfortunately, after our night off the beach which was a wee bit rolly, but not as bad as the undulations upon the bank, we got sucked back into the Book of Nots. The next day, a well-meaning fellow called Jim came by, who was also single-handing a 26 ft motor- sailer, behind which he towed a 14 ft rowing dory. Jim suggested that we move to a nearby cove where his boat was anchored in very calm water. On a boat you can have a different sense of time there being many less time related obligations. However, the old adage,”The tide waits for no man”, can come into play here. At the time of Jim’s suggestion it was high tide and by the time we actually decided to follow his suggestion it was six hours later, namely low tide. When we entered the cove, there was also a strong following wind behind us which didn’t exist six hours earlier. We soon found ourselves navigating a small channel on a course of no return because of the wind behind us. After Divya and I had several discussions of whether light brown meant deeper or shallower, Chris decided that it meant deeper and backed himself up with depth readings on the chart in our computer. The boat gently came to a halt on a sandy bank and would not budge. After jumping out and inspecting our situation, Chris apologized to Divya, and we both able to agree that light brown meant shallower. We decided not to panic which we had learned from previous groundings doesn’t really help. Chris snorkeled around, observed some pretty fish, then stood up and remarked “the one good thing about running aground in a boat with four ft draft is that you can stand up and walk around the whole situation.” We were in the process of setting out some anchors to keep us in place while we waited for the tide to come in when well-meaning Bahamian fisherman number one showed up and offered to pull us off the sand bar. Although this seemed unlikely given that he only had a 15 hp motor, we thought he must know something that we didn’t. Whatever he knew didn’t work. Then Bahamian fisherman number two showed up with a 40 hp engine and after some heated discussion, one of our anchors was passed from fishing boat number one to fishing boat number two. As fishing boat number one pushed from behind and fishing boat number two pulled from the front, fishing boat number three showed up requesting that we toss him a halyard attached to the top of our mast. After a much larger amount of heated discussion, the boat was turned 180 degrees and moved from soft sand onto something hard that produced thudding sounds throughout the boat. It then became apparent that there was no master plan being enacted here About this time it began to rain and soon torrents were pouring all over us and down the open hatches of our boat. Miraculously after more heated discussion, thudding from below, bashing from behind, pulling from in front, and tilting sideways via the mast halyard, connected to boat number 3, we were pulled free. This however, did not necessarily mean that we were free as we were still attached to two boats, one via our mast head and the other via one of our anchor lines complete with anchor in pouring rain and 20+ knot winds trying to push us back onto the bank. By the way, to fill in this picture, add the fact that all these lines were at times loose in the water, with everyone worrying and screaming about them getting entangled in the props (including ours) of all these boats with their motors running. Lso add the fact that the halyard line wrapped itself behind the radar as boat number 3 was speeding away and only stopped after Chris let out one of the most hysterical screams of his life. While Chris was pulling up a second anchor, he tried in vain to make a suggestion about which way to go now that the boat had been freed. Fortunately, boat number three took charge and with some boat banging, which smashed our swim ladder, our anchor was passed back to us, the mast line was released and we motored away from “Don’t Go in Here at Low Tide Cove.” We decided at this point that it was okay to spend the money on another night at the marina. As we rounded a point, behind which was the entrance to the marina, it became apparent that a large 100 ft supply boat had dragged its anchor and was blocking most of the entrance channel. We were ready to go back out and anchor when fisherman number one came by saying it was okay to come in the channel as long as we stayed next to the big boat’s anchor cable. Chris asked which way the current was flowing, and he responded “toward the anchor cable” which caused Chris to wonder why we should head toward the anchor cable. After discussing the matter with Divya and changing both our minds several times within 15 seconds, we opted for the middle path which brought us into the harbor unscathed, a long list of Nots trailing behind us.

Not Number Four: Do not wait six hours to decide to enter a cove that someone else had no problem with at high tide.

Not Number Five: Do not think that Bahamian charts are necessarily accurate, particularly if they were drawn before recent hurricanes.

Not Number Six: Do not allow your boat to be pulled off of a sand bar without having a plan as to what will happen once the boat is pulled free.

Not Number Seven: Do not allow three boats to pull on your boat in different directions without having a plan as to what the hell is going on at all.

Not Number Eight: Do not suggest that someone pick up your anchor as a way of towing you off, as getting your anchor back from an open boat in 20 knots winds is not the delicate little maneuver you might imagine.

Not Number Nine: Do not explore a shallow channel with a 20 knot wind behind you thinking you can simply back up if you touch the bottom.

Not Number Ten: Do not go toward the darker water if it is light brown.

In hindsight, after epoxying our swim ladder back together, we counted our blessings and were glad to have gotten the help we did which in the end, worked. Needless to say, that night Divya began reconsidering the thought that “maybe boating is not for me,” which does occur to her from time to time. Chris simply looked the situation over and started digging through the lockers looking for epoxy glue and acted as if nothing unusual had happened in spite of the fact that he couldn’t stop trembling for two days. Later the next day we met some new friends, Kathleen and Jim, who lent us a bar clamp to help fix our swim ladder and who ended up going with us along with the SarahGay the next day on the next leg of our journey. At the marina we also met Kit and her husband of the KittyWake. Kit is 72 and thinks she might be the oldest woman cruising sailor.

We had a nice sail to Rose Island, which is about ten miles west of Nassau Harbor, which we decided to skip. After two rolly nights at Rose Island, we sailed to Allen Cay, the first island we would come to in the Exuma chain. Here we did some great snorkeling and spent two more rolly nights. At Allen Cay there are also iguanas which will eat out of your hand if you have the courage to interact with what appear to be miniature dinosaurs, although Divya talks to them as if they were puppy dogs.

At Allen Cay another fine Not was bequeathed to us. Chris, ever on the alert to improve his anchoring techniques, decided to explore the harbor in the dingy using the boat hook to take soundings. He measured 4 ft from the end of the boat hook and placed a mark on it. He went back and forth across the harbor jamming the boat hook into the bottom determining the various depths. While doing this, he noticed, being a carpenter and having a pretty eye for distances, that the 4 ft area of the pole looked a little shorter, but for some reason this didn’t seem to phase him. That night after moving to an area Chris had determined was the ideal spot, our boat began pounding the bottom again. Fortunately we were able to move the boat before it went severely aground. When Chris measured the boat hook, the distance from the end to the mark mysteriously had diminished to only three feet. The mystery was solved when we realized the book hook was extendable and had collapsed as Chris was thrusting it into the bottom. So,

Not Number 10A is: Do Not sound the bottom using a collapsable boat hook.

We proceeded from Allen Cay to Warderick Wells Cay. On the way in, once again, the Book of Nots began writing itself. The night before we had left Chris had checked the oil and discovering that it was low, added a quart. At this point we thought we had learned many lessons and that we pretty much had our act and the boat together. Probably while having a thought like this, Chris became totally distracted from the fact that he left the oil cap off the valve cover which translates into oil being sprayed all over the engine room. We discovered this when the warning buzzer went off again just as we were approaching Warderick Wells Channel in 15 knots of wind. We were able to turn around, add more oil and get the engine going again arriving in Warderick Wells humbled once again. Needless to say,

Not Number Eleven is: Do not forget to put the oil cap back on after adding oil.

The next two days we spent exploring the wonderful Warderick Wells National Park and lying peacefully on a roll-free mooring. We also thoroughly cleaned the engine compartment using two hundred paper towels and a drill-operated pump routed into fifteen empty bottles that we managed to find throughout the boat. In the process of wiping down the boat, we discovered the engine coolant reservoir was empty, and Chris decided to fill it right up. In the process of filling it right up, Chris discovered that the reason it was empty was the fact that the hose leading to the engine had a large hole in it shooting the new anti-freeze all over the engine. After replacing the hose, and more engine cleaning, we once again thought we now have everything back in order. That night after turning on the engine to charge the batteries, we noticed that the batteries were in fact not being charged. After reading 15 manuals and staring at the maze of wires that radiates from our engine, Chris was able to trace the problem to a wire supplying current to a regulator that had become dislodged in the process of wiping the oil off of every surface in the engine compartment. Once again, we decided that we had everything under control and just to make sure, Divya reminded Chris to check the intake strainer which he did. Remembering his experience with the oil cap, Chris decided to really tighten down the strainer cap. He ended up tightening down one side a little too much, which made the cap tilt up creating an air gap. This resulted in the engine overheating once again just as we were leaving Warderick Wells. This also resulted in the water pump impeller drying up and exploding into 25 different pieces. This also resulted in Divya once again wondering “maybe boating’s not for me.” Chris replaced the impeller and refined his skills in the fine art of strainer cap replacement. The Nots arising from this episode are

Not Number Twelve: Do not think that wiping down your engine will make it happy as if it were some sort of friendly massage. It will probably pull something loose and cause another problem.

Not Number Thirteen: Do not tighten one side of a water strainer cap without tightening the other side in an even manner.

Not Number Fourteen: Do not even bother thinking that you now have everything together unless you absolutely need to hold onto this delusion in order not to lose your sanity

After this episode we voyaged to Little Farmer’s Cay where we reunited with Sharon and Zladko, who we had met back in Fort Lauderdale aboard Sharon’s 30 ft Nonsuch named My Detour, and spent time with at Allen’s Cay. Sharon has been living aboard her boat and cruising for several years now, and Zladko single-handed a boat across the Atlantic surviving a hurricane en route. Zladko is originally from Croatia and along with Sharon has many informing life experiences to share.

We should also mention that while at Warderick Wells Cay we saw a patrol boat come into the harbor in the back of which were six shivering Haitians with a blanket wrapped around them. The patrol boats regularly discover Haitian boats trying to sail up to Nassau, take everyone off the boat, and then set it on fire. Sometimes the boats have as many as a hundred people on board and remind us that the situation in Haiti must be truly desperate for people to attempt such voyages. The people are usually sent back to Haiti where who knows what fate awaits them.

At Little Farmer’s Cay we had dinner with Sharon and Zladko at the Ocean Cabin Restaurant owned by Terry Bains and his wife who prepared a delicious fried conch meal for us. Terry is a native of Little Farmer’s Cay who has spent time in the Middle East, Africa who knows what other places, and seems to be a philosopher of sorts engaging whoever appears before him in discussions that will not fail to interest the subject involved. Little Farmer’s Cay is a small village having 55 residents who all seemed especially friendly. We hope to return there on our voyage home in the Spring.

Don’t think we didn’t acquire another Not here, however. This Not involves our computer charting program, which places the boat’s position right on a chart that you see on a computer screen. Sometimes the position can be quite accurate and in the beginning of our trip we were very impressed with it. However, at Little Farmer’s Cay it showed us being on the East side of an island when we were actually anchored off its western shore. At Chub Cay marina it showed our position as begin right on top of the mens room so we must include:

Not Number Fifteen: Do not trust Bahamian charts. Some may be very accurate and some may not.

From Little Farmer’s Cay we set out for Georgetown early in the morning and arrived here at around 4 pm on December 24th, Christmas eve. The harbor is similar to a large lake and we are so happy to have finally gotten here. Fifty yards from where our boat is anchored is a small dinghy dock, and a short path to a beautiful ocean beach. The water is warm, blue and clear. And not far away is a small town which caters to the needs of cruising boaters. Sighs of relief exude periodically from both of us and will probably continue for many days to come. We made it.