Life, ocean, boat and Bahamas

Oiled the cockpit. My beard turned partially grey. Otherwise everything under control.

Sebastian

The route so far:
St. Vincent
Bequia
Martinique
Monteserrat
St. Kitts
Nevis
Saba
St. Marteen
Brittish Virgin islands

All in two weeks, and now we plan a big leap of 400 nautical miles passed Puerto Rico to Dominican Republic (an island shared with Haiti, east of Cuba, south of Bahamas.)

In the morning before we leave we find 25 meters depth and I do 4 pull downs, 3 swim downs that feel surprisingly hard, and three empty lungs, the last one being 15 meters and I feel just fine after that. RV 2 liters down to 15 meter is quite extreme.
In the afternoon I do 200 arm strokes attached to the boat with a rubber cord, and 200 kicks. Feeling the grip of the water trying to tone some muscles.
My ship mate joins me for a last session before sunset and our departure, We know we will be at sea for 3 days and nights so we feel we need to work out. 2 kilometers running along the beach to glares and comments of the charter yacht tourists parked in sunchairs on the beach with bottles in hand.
Its good to train with someone half your age, it keeps the pace up. I try to outrun him but I fail, he is fit, he recently won a Tae kwondo competition. I add 150 situps, some 100 push ups and some other stuff. We swim out to the boat at anchor and make food before we set sail to Dominican republic 400 nautical miles away.

We enter at night, a bad idea, but I have no intention “hanging around” outside the coast half the night while being dead tired. Luperon is a hurricane hole, meaning you might survive a hurricane here. A tiny entrance opening up to a lagoon surrounded by mangroves. A sleepy “spanish” fishing village, at least it was 12 years ago when I (entered at night) visited here before. I google mapped the place and saw several yachts from the bird view.

I has been three very easy days at sea, winds from behind, averaging 5-6 knots. At the most 20 knots o wind, usually calmer with warm night winds and a friendly full moon. The wind wane did most of the steering, books, writing, guitar playing, fished but lost a huge jumping tunalike fish.

From the sailing pilot:

"South east Bahamas is often referred to as the out islands. They are visited infrequently because they lie usually to wind and there are virtually no all around harbors.
These latitudes feature stronger winds, bigger waves, grater distance between destinations, fewer facilities and open roadstead anchorages.
This is cruising territory for the experienced, confident yachtsman, with sound navigational skills and a seaworthy, well-provisioned vessel.
This is not a place for the novices or the indecisive."

We leave Luperon, Dominican Republic and with decisiveness set sail north. Expecting easterly winds and some high swell and a nervous approach to the off lying invisible reefs of Turks and Caicos.

Water 110 liters
Diesel 100 liters
Cocking gas one year supply
Electricity 220 amp hours, 12.6 V
Clothes cleaned
Food for 30 days
Well rested and and lean


Sebastian

PS Must also keep an eye on that hurricane developing.

In order to make landfall in daylight the next day we leave at sunset. On the way out we see how skillfull (lucky?) I was making it into Luperon mangrove lagoon between sand bars, breaking reefs and a narrow channel.

Out in the open ocean the memory of the flat waters of the mangrove lagoon is soon washed away by harsh reality. An Atlantic swell, a brisk wind, and bouncing waves from the shore. The horizon is filled with dark patches of squalls (thundery areas). Things start falling inside the boat as the skipper was hoping (idiot) for better weather. We settle into the sailing routine again and head into the night.

Our friendly moon is nowhere to be seen, wind increases, and our sails pulls us violently into darkness. The sky is overcast. At some point horizon vanishes when sky and sea take on the same colors. After trying to sleep two hours its my turn at the helm. The boat is heading at average 8 knots over a landscape of treacherous unseen waves. What if there is a log, or a half sunk container at the surface!? I tutor the sleepy eyed deckhand and start reefing (reducing sails).

A 20 knot wind in from the side, later turns somewhat against us. The boat starts banging down in valleys of water and is pushed in to small broaches by small hills of waves coming at us from the side. Every cubic meter representing a ton in weight.
I am no longer dry. But the wind is still warm and has a strange smell to it considering it is coming from the Atlantic. Theres´an ill wind blowing.

I am amazed by the boats ability for speed, even though I suspect a favorable current. I let the windvane take over and try to sleep for 30 minutes. There are no other ships to be seen in this ocean wasteland outside cargoship routes. I half-lie in my bed thinking, tossing scenarios around. Dam it. This crashing into the night is not the way to go. If we just fall down some 30 degrees the ride will be smoother, we skip Grand Turk island, save a day and anchor at the uninhabited French cay. Lets speed it up and go for some deep diving in Deans Blue hole. 16 days to go to the world championship.260 nautical miles to go.

After a trip lasting 20 hours averaging 6.9 knots (in a long keel, 8 meter, double ender, mind you) we anchor up at the tiny French cay offering no protection against the 28 knot wind, but breaks the swell and the waves. Chicken and omelet and a kettle of tea after a swim checking the anchor.

We are in Bahamian waters.

Filips mother warns via textmessage that the hurricane Ida is moving slightly east and affects northern Bahamas.
We are considering our options. Checking wind speed, wind angles, anchorages. Barometer is still at peace here but strong winds prevail day as night. Bahama Will wonders if we are out sailing in a 8 meter boat in this weather, and the answer is yes.

At french Cay I made an effort to trace some annoying leaks in the deck, did the usual 5 min breath hold, and jumped in and did 30 minutes swimming against the shock cord.

We set of just before sunset, along the bank of Caicos, passing 1000 yards of the Emmylon reef and into the moonless night. We anticipated an easy 50 nautical mile sail, between the islands. This time fully reefed sails (less sails) from the start.
Filip has first watch and heads out of the lee of the Provo island encountering huge waves. Not experienced in ocean sailing he thinks this a normal situation. He heads 10-20 degrees too much into the wind causing the hull to leap of the back of the waves. Two hours later I "wake up" after fruitless attempts at sleeping. Outside the weather is quite more severe than it felt below. Waves breaking on top of huge 12 feet swells. Dark clouds and no chance to see or anticipate the oncoming waves.
I take over (disengage the windwane) and hook in with life line. My eyes get used to the darkness and I start "working" the waves. Its like riding a furious horse (not that I have), and we speed ahead with more than 7 knots (fully reefed). Once a wave just lifts on board 150 litres of water and dumps it in the cockpit and me. My legs on the opposite seat holds me in place.

Two hours later, waves gentles down, wind calms a bit and I engage the wind wane and enjoy the early morning hours standing watching from the bow a pale moon rising and small cosmic rocks burning their way into hour biosphere, some making it nearly to the surface it looks like.

We heave to and wait for the early morning light to guide us in between the reef to Mayaguana island. "the narrow and winding channel should be negotiated in good light and calm conditions". A bigger, not so fortunate yacht lies crippled on the side, stranded on a sand bar. "Don´t go there", Filip shouts.

The tourist brochure says: Largest amount of vacation spots of any tropical destination. 500 miles of the clearest water in the world. 14 main islands, 686 smaller, sometimes called Cays (pronounced keys, meaning, you will find nothing there. The archipelago named Baja Mar (shallow sea) by Columbus, thus Baha - mas.

We do not have to leave in darkness and sail over a bank littered with coral heads, but we do. I want to test GPS coordinate navigation at night. At 3 am we set a fore sail and glide silently from our anchorage. A weak new moon adding nothing but atmosphere. Filip at front with torchlight and me counting 10´s of nautical miles doing 45 and 90 degree turns going in between shallow patches.
So when sun sets three hours later we are well on our way and make it to Plana cay at mid day. A lovely stretch of uninhabited land. Reefs to the east and a long narrow beach to the west. Wind has died down and there is calm water in lee of the island. At last conditions are right for lowering a line and doing some real training. We send the anchor over the side but the boat is pushed by the little wind there is and the line ends up 10 degrees off. I pull down on a warm-up hang and look up.

Wow, this is the most clear water I have seen in my life. Its liquid glass.
I pull down to 42 and miss my neck weight, I have to pull all the way. I rest 4 minutes and take less air and plan to make it to the end of the line, but turn early, progress is slow on the way down, line is not straight, and contractions come early. My watch shows 55 meter - well good enough, we finish and anchor in by the beach.

I am woken up in the early morning by a nervous wind and strange rocking movements from the boat. Something is wrong. Wind has shifted to south and we in danger of drifting ashore or on a reef of the anchor doesn´t hold in this new direction. I pull up the anchor and set sail and leave.

The trustworthy trade wind is gone, a strange low pressure is passing by creating clock wise turning wind. Not many anchorages protects from a NW or N wind. We are driven out at sea, and have to spend the night in the treacherous crocked island passage. Wind direction is right in the nose, but wind is kind and we have a calm night out at sea, tacking towards long island with only a few cargo ships bothering us, keeping us awake at watch.

Arrive Long island in the morning carefully maneuvering in between reefs at Clarence Town, checking in a Flying Fisk Marina.

Some serious names are already here. Nitsch, Winram, Ryozo, Johan, Jana, Alexey, Kathryn...

Will turns up and leaves a car for me. Work starts in the morning, have to repair a platform and clean up a beach.