Excuses, More Sea Time and Bahamas First Impressions

Waves are six to seven feet and sharpened by the currents of the Mona Passage between Puerto Rico and Hispaniola. We have been at sea for six hours or so, darkness came about five hours ago and Rike and the girls are laying down. They are trying to sleep as Cénou pushes us through the onslaught of water at a steady ten knots with a loud motion that is something between a dance and a fight.

I settle outside for one of my favorite parts of passage making, when the boat goes dark and I can sit and look at stars. Unfortunately, about eight hours ago I sent out sixty emails saying that I would post photos on the website. Now, as we are at sea heading for the desolate Bahamian islands and not likely to have internet for a while, I dread the thought of those photos I never did post.

My thoughts drift towards the anxiety that comes before a passage and that, maybe, I could use that as an excuse for sending people to the website for nothing. After all I had sent those emails sitting in the street, next to a closed wifi hot spot. The sun was relentless and I had to fight tiny ants crawling up my legs on their way to my precious computer. The sweat, the barely visible screen, the ants, the hard pavement, and my head filled with tidbits of weather info so crucial to our comfort and safety. That will be my excuse. Hopeful it will satisfy most people, I settle in my foulies, watch the big dipper at the edge of the horizon and feel the anxiety of the past few days fade.

The decision to leave a protected anchorage for an extended exposure to the ocean unsettles most people and I am one of the most. Aside from boat preparedness the weather is obviously the biggest factor. This passage, while only 435 miles, was to keep us close to shores that can be death traps in the wrong conditions and extensive offshore shoals that limited our ability to move away from the dangerous coast. So, given the fact that I am the only sailor on board and that exhaustion in rough weather comes fast, the unsettled weather prior to our departure was a source of worry.

Using the "street" internet I pored over as much weather information as I could. There were contradictory reports which led a few boats that were doing the same passage to stay put. The biggest worry were the conditions in the first quarter of the passage when we would be in "the Mona" where seas, in the wrong conditions, are reputed to be ferocious. Yet we still needed wind to move. When I made up my mind that the conditions were good (as I sent out e-mails and no photos and fought off ants) we asked for confirmation from Commander's Weather and off we went.

In the end the weather conditions were near ideal and the light to moderate breezes (5 to 12 knots from 130-140 relative) did very well for us. We motored five hours out of the seventy two hours that it took to cover the distance. We sailed with one reef and jib at night and screecher ( a big head sail) and full main during the day. In other words we stayed conservative and the boat still managed to cover miles under sail effortlessly.

Rike is now an expert at anti-sea sickness cocktails. Half a patch and regular doses of Dramamine kept her fit so that we could rotate three hour watches at night and four hours during the day. She also managed to cook amazing meals and bake bread and rolls. So the miles went by without hardship as the girls settled into their books, punctuated by games of mancala, a little home schooling and napping.

Our landfall was made in Mayaguana, a very outer islands of the Bahamas where fresh water is imported for the five hundred inhabitants who reside on it's 24 mile long by 6 mile wide flat, scrubby surface.

We negotiated our first real reef passage through coral strewn turquoise water with Rike on the bow and dropped anchor in Abrahams Bay. This seven miles long by four miles wide bay is an all weather reef protected anchorage. Being the only boat in this enormous anchorage made Rike very nervous but the reality is that the inhabitants scrape a living out of the sea and subsistence is pretty much the way life is on Mayaguana.

Mayaguana is an island on the cusp, some would say precipice, of tremendous changes. The island was part of the US Missile Strategic Defense System until the US left area. Mayaguana then inherited an 11'000 foot long runway and now, that runway is going to be the backbone of a major development attempt.

By the time we come back in two years Mayaguana, if all goes according to plan for us and the island, will have sprouted a marina, a resort, a casino and big vacation homes. We wonder if the little restaurant without air conditioning serving the only thing left in the fridge, fresh conch and rice, because the mail boat is late, will still be around then or if the islanders will get simply fed up of all the demanding activity.

In the meantime another boat made it into the anchorage. Norwegians we met in the streets of Dewey, Culebra, 600 miles ago. They asked us for direction to customs in Culebra, and now we are here together sharing meals and our kids playing together. So life is fine as we wait for a cold front to leave so that we can proceed north.

Sequel.

In the end, Rike was wrong to fear the lonely anchorage. Land on the other hand did turn out to be dangerous when a couple of dogs said to belong to the island Commissioner (who is not from the island) bit me in the calf leaving me with a puncture wound and a bruise.

That afternoon Erik, from the Norwegian boat "Veto", convinced me we could leave in the morning and squeeze in a 24 hour sail before the cold front reached our next destination. I called Commander's at 5 PM on a Saturday and by 7 AM on Sunday I had their forecast which confirmed our departure. Aside from a squall which left us in zero visibility due to torrential rain and 45 knots of wind, the trip to Long Island was easy and we are enjoying the beautiful anchorage and very friendly people.

Happy Easter to everyone from Anouck, Rike, Claude and Celine.