Finally….A New Country!

We decided to stay an extra day in Mayaguana to get some rest as well as enjoy the spearfishing offered on the island.  Initially, we had planned to leave that night after a couple of hours of sleep and continue on to the Turks & Caicos, but after seeing the water quality (we dropped a quarter in 35 ft of water and were able to see it on the bottom from deck level), we couldn't resist exploring the reefs.  As well, our buddy boat, Sailboat Furminger has been having a bunch of mechanical problems lately, the most recent two being setting the engine room on fire while underway from Long Island to Crooked (a wire had shorted out and ignited their oil absorbent rag under the engine…see their site for more details), along with losing their throttle control cable also while underway from Crooked to Mayaguana, the day after the fire.  What had happened with the cable was that they had paid a marina back in Baltimore $4K for someone to install new control cables and a dual action control arm as their binnacle mounted controls had broken at that point.  Since they are new to the whole boating arena, they didn't notice that the mechanic had improperly routed the morse cables so that the throttle cable was sitting against their exhaust riser, which ended up melting and seizing the cable (you can't trust anyone!).  When Nico went to throttle back, he broke the control arm as well.  After they finally got anchored up later that evening, Frank was able to go over and jerry rig a simple system for them consisting of lines and pulleys so that they could again control their throttle from the helm.  The sea always manages to find the weaknesses in any system so it pays to be handy...

After a good night's rest, we spent the next morning hunting in some of the clearest waters we've seen so far.  Of course, the day's haul was stupendous, and we were able to spear some Slipper lobsters to boot.  Frank and I have been looking for these elusive Slippers now for many, many years (at this point, I'd say close to 10).  Ever since we've heard about these things, we have been hoping to spot one.  This time around, not only did we finally see them but we managed to catch 4, and they were absolutely delicious.  They are a lot like Spiny lobster in flavor and texture except a little sweeter.  They however don't hide in the same way Spiny lobsters do.  Normally when in search of Spiny lobster, we look under a rock or coral head, and they are usually just tucked up under there, sitting up, just staring at you, antennas waving around just waiting to be captured.  With Slipper lobsters we found that they usually cling on to the undersides of the rock/coral in a nook very well camouflaged, so when you're peaking into a hole, instead of looking down, you would look up and along the sides of the walls.  Though hunting them was slightly different than hunting Spiny lobster, preparing them was just as easy.  We simply steamed them and dipped it in melted butter.  In the same meal, we also prepared Stone crab, which were also just as delectable.  It was a real treat as crabs tend to be a little more rare.  I now know why they call them Stone crabs, as the shells on them are rock hard.  I lost one in a reef trying to spear it, with no luck as my spear wasn't strong enough to puncture the tough shell, and all it did was deflect off before the little critter ran away.  How frustrating!  Frank, with the better spear and skills, managed to spear one that Nico had spotted right between the eyes (as you can see from the photo). All in all, our brief stay in Mayaguana turned out to be very worthwhile, and I wish that our weather window wasn't so short so that we could've had more time to spend exploring this beautiful, remote island.  

They really look like slippers!

I love Mayaguana!!!

This poor crab didn't know what was coming….

After sharing our feast with our Nico and Lindsay, we took a nap and awoke at 11pm to continue on to the Turks.  With the winds at 10-15 knots on a close haul, we were able to have a beautiful night sail with a sky full of stars and a trail of phosphorescence in our wake.  Getting through Sandbore Channel proved only mildly challenging as the 10 miles of the shallow "channel" was sprinkled with coral heads, so visual piloting was absolutely necessary.  We are now anchored in Sapodilla Bay on Providenciales in the Turks and Caicos.  We will spend the next couple of days here awaiting another weather window to open up so that we can take our next passage safely.  I'm not sure what we're going to do in terms of fun activities as spearfishing is highly forbidden here and lobster season is over.  I'm sure we will find something…

Beach that we are anchored in front of….

Sunrise underway….

Chalk Sound, Providenciales

El Derecho

Been here in Georgetown for about a week and half now.  Some of it due to weather, some of it due to procrastinating the things we need to do while we are here (fuel, water, groceries, etc)…some of it just from being boaters.  I'm getting anxious to move on to the next place, because to be honest, Georgetown is one of my least favorite parts of the Bahamas.  With the exception of availability of goods, like awesome groceries and other needed amenities, there really is not much to do here in terms of spearfishing or underwater activities.  The sailing community here is large, with the anchorages full of other cruisers, which to me poses a deep love-hate relationship.  I hate how many people there are here; zipping by on dinghies, anchoring way too close, yapping on the VHF.  Sorry for sounding crotchety, perhaps I'm just getting used to being in less inhabited islands?  That being said though, what I do love is the how cruisers come together in a time of need and once again, how they abide by philosophy of communal living.  

About a week ago, a weather system technically known as a "derecho" hit the Exumas.  A derecho, according to google, is "a widespread, long-lived straight-line wind storm that is associated with a land based, fast-moving group of severe thunderstorms.  Derechos can cause hurricane force winds, tornados, heavy rains, and flash floods..."  This particular one hit us unexpectedly, with winds reported at 70-100kts in some of the anchorage, I personally only noticed a sustained wind between 30-40 for a couple of hours on our anemometer.  Regardless, it was a bit of a shit show.  At the time, Nico and Lindsay were on our boat just hanging out, making dinner with us, when out of nowhere within minutes, the winds go from 15 kts to 50 kts.  Frank and Nico were in the cockpit, and Lindsay and I were down below preparing dinner.  Of course we stopped what we were doing to check on what was happening, and next thing you know, we notice that Nico and Lindsay's boat dragging.  The waves in Elizabeth Harbor were large and violent, and there was no way that anyone could safely get in a dinghy and drive over to his boat, which was a half a mile away.  The waves were so strong that we were getting soaked just from them crashing over the bow, and into our cockpit.  So there we were sitting helplessly watching their boat drag clear across the anchorage, while monitoring the VHF and the anemometer.  At this point, I'm at the helm putting the boat into the wind and driving forward so as to take some strain off the anchor and keeping an eye on our neighboring boats.  Frank was forward checking on the anchor and letting out more scope.  Next thing you know, our friends' dinghy starts to blow vertically and the point on which their line was attached at the bow rips off their dinghy.   Luckily, there was an aft line holding it as well, and Nico was standing close by, and able to catch it.  There he was holding onto his inflatable, which at this point is behaving much like a flapping sail, You never realize how much windage those things have until they start flopping around the side of the boat like a dying fish.  I call Lindsay who is down below to help because he was struggling to hold it.  Frank rushes back, grabs a line, and they both struggle and tie the line to the dinghy.  

Their boat continues to drag across the anchorage, and with every boat Vida del Sol (name of their boat) passes, we cringe hoping that they don't get closer. We watch helplessly as the boat slowly passes a couple other boats unscathed.  We keep an eye on the anchor light at their masthead, and hope that it's still bobbing, indicating they haven't run aground.  Eventually, Vida del Sol starts to get pretty close to another boat which at this point is now in our anchorage, half a mile later.  We see spotlights illuminating their boat as it starts to inch closer to another boat.  The owners of the said boat start yelling at Nico on the VHF shouting that he needs to get on his boat and drive away.  Nico replies that he can't because it was unsafe for him to get in the dinghy.  The woman on the other boat starts panicking and wailing like a banshee at Nico to get his ass to his boat now, which then ended with Nico calmly replying in broken english, "Look, be sure as soon as the weather is nice and it is safe for me get in my dinghy for go my boat, I will.  But be sure I will make a stop to your fucking boat first."   Nice...

 This situation was rather infuriating as number 1, why would anyone WANT to sit and watch their boat drag clear across an anchorage with the possibility of it running aground and sinking...idiots. Number 2, the other boat was  perfectly capable at that point to start their engines, hoist anchor, and drive away, why the hell didn't they?  I know damn well if I saw a boat coming even close to us, that I'd be ready to get the hell out of its way, regardless of whether or not there was someone helming it.  That to me was simply poor seamanship, not taking responsibilty for their own boat and leaving it to someone else to take care of it.  Anyhow, luckily, there was no such collision, and Vida del Sol continued to merrily drift on by, naive to any potential danger.  Shortly after, the winds die down to the 30s and Nico takes the opportunity to get in the dinghy and to his boat.  He gets to his boat safely and turns on the engine, and pretty much drives it into the wind for the next hour or so until Frank deemed it safe to leave Moitessier and go over and help him re-anchor.  All said and done, the only major loss was their solar panel, which decided to take flight and seek shelter elsewhere during the derecho.  Very lucky considering all the close calls.  

The next day, getting on the cruisers' net and seeing if anyone needed help, we re-discover just how amazing cruisers truly are.  People, ourselves included, were offering help to whomever needed it as well as loaning supplies and offering what we could to each any boat that needed it.  One woman lost one of her stays, and immediately 5 other boaters offered what they could to help her replace it,  another ran aground and were on the rocks and cruisers came together on their dinghies to get it off.  Some lost their dinghies, some floating away completely,  while others flipped over, ruining their outboards.  It was really touching to see people so selflessly come together.  Georgetown wasn't the only one affected by this...it was as far north as Warderick Wells which had reported winds of 110kts.  A lot of yachts, I hear, at Staniel Cay were found aground and on the rocks.  I am so grateful that nothing happened to Moitessier, considering the conditions.  We had seen worse in terms of wind and waves in both Miami and Long Island, but this system posed the greatest threat simply due to the crowded anchorage.   I hope to not see one of those again anytime soon. 

Anchorage from above

The Black Box

Have any of you heard of this idea of the Black Box?  No, no, not that box.  The box I'm referring to is an old mystical, sailor theory that every boat possesses an imaginary black box.  Every time a sailor does something seaman-like, he pays a coin into this box.  An aquatic, karmic bank account of sorts that one can draw from when shit hits the fan.  Now this box accepts an infinite amount of coins, and the more you pay into it, the more you can draw from it when you really need it.  This can be anything from changing the engine oil when it's due, to doing engine checks before starting it, to keeping the lines neatly coiled on deck, to climbing the mast to check your rigging, to varnishing your teak, there are countless ways to earn coins.  This explains why some people go through huge squalls with no injury to their beloved boat, while others suffer dis-mastings, torn sails, and so on.  

Since owning Moitessier, we have rigorously abided by this idea.  Well, Frank more than I as his personality tends to lean more towards obsessive compulsion than mine.  But regardless, we have tried at every opportunity to put coins in our account and so far it's really paid off.  Now this leads me to think about how this idea can be applied to so many things in life.  That perhaps there needs to be different Life Boxes of sorts.  In this case, a piggy bank for relationships.  More often than not, living in a such a small space, Frank and I fight over what is important to us in terms of Moitessier as a whole.  We have different ideals as to what level of messiness we can handle on the boat, how we like our space to be, and so on.  We get so caught up with being seaman-like and paying into the black box, that we forget that we also need to pay into our Life Box.  This can be anything from random acts of kindness, like picking up after someone without nagging them about it, saying thank you when they make you a meal, a back massage when they are tired, a hot chocolate when they are on watch, letting them sleep an extra 1/2 an hour during your watch.  These things after 13 years of being together are sometimes overlooked.  This theory primarily goes back to mindfulness, being mindful of how your partner feels, being aware of the things that your boat needs in order to keep you safe. The more mindful you are of their needs, both your partner and your boat, the more coins you accrue in your boxes.  The more coins you have, the more likely you are to weather some emotional squalls when you need to. The more "lifeman-like" things you do for one another, the stronger your love and the stronger your bond.

With the new year ahead of us, and most of us setting impossible resolutions, I found that this is a very interesting way of looking at life in general; whether it be your personal goals, fitness, career, whatever it may be, the more little things you do towards these goals, the more likely you are to succeed.  Ultimately, it comes down to the basic principle of taking responsibility for the things you value and the things that are important to you.

Stumbling Through the Bahamas, One Mistake at a Time

We spent a couple peaceful days anchored out in Old Fort Bay swimming around and checking out some of the coral.  On the third day after Ashley's arrival, we had to move Moitessier to West Bay, due to a wind direction change.  Since the wind was coming from the north at about 25 kts, Old Fort Bay was no longer an option for a sheltered anchorage.  Since we were planning on going to the Exumas the next day, we figured we would just head over to West Bay, get up early in the morning, and head south around Nassau and make our way southeast to Allen Cay.  Getting into the anchorage proved to be quite simple, with visual piloting around some coral heads, but leaving proved to be quite a debacle.  

In West Bay, there are 2 ways to get in and out of the anchorage.  One is from the north, which we entered from, and another is in the south.  We stupidly decided to leave early in morning without the sun high in the sky to help us read the water.  Since we hadn't entered through this cut, we had no reference really as to where the shallow water began and ended.  We were relying on our chart-plotter which didn't have too much information on depths, as well as on our paper charts which also weren't too helpful, but with a time crunch to get into Allen Cay with daylight behind us, we foolishly left early in the morning against our gut instinct.  What a mistake that was.  With me at the helm, I watched the depths quickly drop from a safe 10 ft to 6.5 ft within seconds.  By the time I had realized what was happening and put the "brakes" on Moitessier, it was already much too late.  We ran aground onto a large, camouflaged coral bed.  

I must say, that may have been the longest 5 minutes of my life.  With every bashing on the coral Moitessier was taking, I felt my heart breaking.  The waves were thrashing Moitessier up and down, and the boat was rocking back and forth.  Any longer and water would've started to enter the bulwarks.  At this point, I was still at the helm when Frank told me to back off the coral. Frank was shouting don't back up into a coral head.  He hadn't thought to help look behind me and in his frantic state, he was concerned that I would hit the rudder or prop straight into a coral.  With Frank panicking and shouting, I ended up making him take over helming as I became the eyes behind the boat.  We were all freaking out and I figured that it would be easier if I just told him which way to steer.  After what seemed an eternity, Frank finally reversed us off of the coral bed.  We finally started to gain depth and watched the depth-sounder slowly rise again as my heart rate slowly dropped.  

By far the most frightening experience thus far.  Of course the trip to Allens was delayed another day as we went back to our anchorage to assess the damage done to our poor baby.  Surprisingly, actually very surprisingly, Moitessier had only suffered a few cosmetic scratches and where we scraped the bottom against the coral, the paint simply had chipped away.  A testament to the resilience of older built boats.  We were so proud of her and apologized for our wrecklessness.  Chalk it up to another lesson learned through us not listening to our instincts.  Though it was a bit traumatic, I'm glad we learned the lesson that we can't ignore our gut and that in the Bahamas, it is extremely important to have sun behind you for visual piloting.