Great Guana Cay

Between Green Turtle Cay where we are (we're the little boat in the screen shot below) and the Southern portion of the Abacos, there is an area of shoals and rocks.  There is a pass that small or very shallow draft boats can carefully pick their way through with the right weather conditions, but most cruisers need to go out into the Atlantic and around Whale Cay then back inside the Sea of Abacos.  We're small enough that we can take the inside route, called Don't Rock Pass.

Our buddy boat, M/V Mary Rose, had followed someone through Don't Rock Pass before and had a track on their chart plotter.  Now it was our turn to follow them.  We waited for a calm day, which folks call a "whale day", as it is calm enough to go out into the Atlantic to take the route around Whale Cay or to take the short cut through the Don't Rock passage.  It needs to be calm for either of those routes.





With some apprehension, we motored the hour or so to the pass then slowed right down (yes, even slower than we normally go) and putt-putt-putted through, warily eyeing the rocks on one side of us and waves breaking over shoals on the other.

Once through, which actually happened far faster than we anticipated, Mary Rose turned to the right, headed to Treasure Cay, and we turned to the left, headed for Guana Cay.  Bye-bye Mary Rose, until we catch up to you again, and thanks for all the great advice and leadership on our first (hopefully of many) Bahamian adventures.

Don't Rock - the end of the passage.

Weather has been a bit of a bug-a-boo for us.  While it is pleasant enough on shore, the winds and waves on the Atlantic and the Sea of Abacos have been high most days, making travel difficult.  We get one or two good boating day, then we need to hunker down somewhere for a week or two while the winds howl through.  Winter is like that here in the Bahamas (and in Florida, for that matter).  We've both been watching the weather carefully (read, a little bit obsessively) and deliberating how best to use our short time here.


Guana Cay had three main attractions for us:  One, it's close.  Two, there are two big and very popular bars there, Nippers and Grabbers, which was a minor attraction for us (we're not big bar people). Three, the snorkeling.  Just fifty feet off the beach on the Atlantic side is the third largest coral reef in the world.  There are moorings available which you can tie your dinghy to on a calm day and snorkel. Or, with the water being so clear, even hanging over the dinghy would give a good show, we figured.

First we anchored in the settlement outside of the village.  The anchorage was very crowded and we tried two different spots before the anchor grabbed.  We were semi-comfortable there, at best.  It was late afternoon and we elected to just stay with the boat to watch and ensure the anchor was well set and the boat was okay.

The next morning we wandered around town, checked out the bars, which were, of course, pretty much empty, and talked up folks around town for the best snorkeling spots.


Armed with some local knowledge and a plan we moved the boat to the North part of the island where we could easily dinghy around to the mooring balls placed for day-use only tie-ups for snorkelers and divers.  It was forecasted to be a clear day with mild winds. Perfect!  This was going to be so cool....  and then, as we dinghied around the corner,... ugh, what's that?

Where did that monster  cloud come from?  We headed out in the dinghy and watched for a bit. 
Then as the wind and rain began we bolted back to the boat and, disappointed, closed everything up.

We watched as the storm blew over and checked, then double-checked the weather.  Harumph.  Changes.  If we were going to make it back across the Don't Rock passage safely we had to skedaddle or get stuck below it for at least a couple of weeks.  So much for our adventure.  We headed back across the Don't Rock and headed back to our home base at Green Turtle Cay.  Even though, a good day was had by all.

No Name Cay - Home of the Abacos Pigs

We had a great day with buddies Grant and Cindy, visiting the next little cay, very creatively named No Name Cay.  This cay is uninhabited... well, by humans at least.  It is home to the pigs.  Yes, pigs!  There is a group of wild pigs there living on the beach.  Someone has set up a cistern with fresh water for them and folk go over in small boats with scraps to feed them.  It's become a bit of a tourist attraction.

After the piggies were fed, we dinghied over to Grant and Cindy's secret sea glass beach.  I'd tell you where it is but we're sworn to secrecy and they'd have to kill us.  To get there one has to travel over mountainous, very dangerous sea side cliffs, jungle, and vast rocky beaches with crashing waves.  OK, I'm exaggerating a bit in an effort to distract you and keep the location top secret, but it was a bit of a hike over dead coral.

There, using Grant's especially designed secret tool, we foraged for treasures of sea glass.  Cindy makes jewelry out of them. If you've never had the opportunity to spend the day on a deserted beach hunting for sea glass you're missing out.  It is one of the most relaxing, meditative ways to spend time.

Sorting through the finds, looking for treasure.

And look at the lovely gifts that were bestowed upon us in reward for our efforts:

Check out Cindy's page at https://www.facebook.com/nautiline/

Green Turtle Cay

We are safely docked at a very pleasant marina in Green Turtle Cay,  No complaints, mon, about life on Green Turtle Cay. 

Days start early, like 5:00 a.m. when all the roosters start crowing.  There are roosters and chickens everywhere, freely running.

Life is easy in the Bahamas.  At least for cruisers.  We spend our days bopping around town, or dinghy 'sploring the remote beaches.  We'll maybe take a walk, grab a coaster bike and go for a ride, hang by the pool or paddle around on the kayaks and paddle boards available for our use.  Sometimes we even do a few boat maintenance chores. We spend a lot of time in the dinghy or walking beaches.  Often with our heads down in a contemplative haze, seeing what we can see, while the rhythm of the waves washes over us.

The town is very quaint.  There is a little lunch place called Two Shorties that makes the BEST home cut fries.  Just like I make at home.  We're regulars.  Jeff will have a chicken sandwich but I just keep to the yummy fries and a beer after a noticed a rooster watching us.  Jeff was probably having his brother for lunch.

The place to be for happy hour

Just down the road from us is this hydroponic garden of fresh organic greens. 
 Three dollars buys a good sized bag of greens.  YUM!!

The settlement, New Providence.

Kite boarders.  We sat on the beach and watched the show.

Picket fences and pastel colours all through town.  So quaint.

Yes, it is a little diner that also serves as the liquor store.
You can have breakie and pick up some rum for later.  Convenient!

That's one of the grocery stores on the right.
People mostly use golf carts here.

Happy. Happy. Happy.

This conch is trying to escape his shell

Wandering.

The Crossing, Day Two, The Bahamian Banks

It is three days of travel for us to get where we're going in the Bahamas. Day one across the deep Atlantic water of the Gulf Stream.  Day two across the very shallow Bahamian Banks.  Day three further across the Banks and into the Abacos Sea to the outlying cays.

Faster boats make the trip in much less time, but we're trawlers.  We only travel at 6.5 knots, which is about 7 miles per hour.  Why, oh why, would we do this you ask?  Because it is the economical way to do it.  The big fast boats have astronomical fuel bills.  We are cheap to run, but take longer.  We watch them zoom by, leaving a big wake which can spill our lunch onto our laps, and will say:  "10$, 20$, 30$, 40$...  as they go by.  Which is the fuel bill they're spending to go that fast.  Don't get me wrong.  It's all good.  Some of our best friends have fast boats.  Some have even slower sail boats.  It's all  about getting out on the water and enjoying.  There are lots of ways to do that.

Blue.  As far as the eye can see in every direction.

Day two, we got going at 7 a.m. and set out across the Bahamian banks.  

The Bahamian banks are shallow and so, so clear.  We were lucky to hit them on such a wonderful day.

The water was calm and so velvety smooth, about ten or so feet deep, and it went on like that for hours.  Out of sight of land.  Just an endless, dreamy watery blue heaven.  You could see every detail on the bottom.  It was often hard to tell where water and sky met. 

We travelled for eight or so hours through this sameness.  To alleviate  the boredom we took turns on the helm, played games and listened to music --  but never for a moment throughout the day did we lose that sense of awe, looking around us and marveling at the absolutely magical corner of the planet we were lucky enough to be gliding through.  In our own little boat.  How grateful we were.

We dropped the hook at Little Sale Cay, a small uninhabited island conveniently situated to provide shelter from the Southerly winds.  Lucky me came down with another bladder infection.  Lucky, I say, because I keep antibiotics on board and was able to treat myself.  Very lucky, as we were two days from the nearest medical clinic, staffed only on Thursdays with a nurse.  A well stocked medicine cabinet/first aid kit is a must on such a trip.

Exhausted, we threw a simple dinner together by barbecuing some meat and opening a can then called it for the night, in preparation for the next day. On to the Abacos.

The Crossing, Day One

Heading out to sea at first light

Fort Lauderdale to West End, Bahamas
7:00 a.m. - 5:00 p.m., speed 6-8 knots.

We cast off our lines at 7:00 a.m. just before sunrise.  The city was just coming to life as we putt-putt-putted through Fort Lauderdale headed to the inlet.  Fort Lauderdale is a huge port with cruise ships and freighter coming and going.  The inlet was wide open and we, two little Canadian trawlers, made our way out into the Atlantic as the sun was rising.

B-bye U.S. of A.

As we made our way out of the inlet, the choppy shore waves soon gave way to long, slow rollers, giving us a very different ride from what we're used to on the Great Lakes.  Eventually the depth sounder went black, indicating we were in far deeper water that it was capable of reading. And while those rollers were long and spaced apart by about seven seconds, some of them were getting pretty darn big.  The two trawlers bounced and bobbed along like a couple of corks.  The occasional wake from passing fishing boats or ferries had us rolling enough to almost bury a gunnel a couple of times.  Safe, but not the most comfortable ride.

After an hour or two of that it settled down enough that feet widely planted on the floor weren't required.  The winds lightened and the air warmed.

Flying Fish

Crossing paths with a freighter.
We played chicken.  He won.

The water turned an absolutely beautiful shade of almost a milky dark blue.  So vibrant!  I had never seen water that colour before.  We didn't see much life out there except for the occasional entertainment of flying fish.  Yes, fish with wings.  They looked like little tinkerbells.  We couldn't catch a pic but I borrowed one from google.

We arrived at West End right about 5:00 p.m. just as the customs office was scheduled to close.  We grabbed our documentation papers and all the required forms we had printed off and filled in on the way across and dashed into the office, just in the nic of time.  We easily checked into the Bahamas and got our cruising permit.  YAY!!  WE'RE LEGAL!!!!

Ahhh.  The end of a long day.

 As our departure location, Fort Lauderdale, was quite a bit South of our destination, our theory was that we would catch a boost from the gulf stream to make our trip faster.  We did see some speeds of up to eight knots, but in retrospect, we don't think we gained much of an advantage.  The trip took ten hours.

We anchored off the Beach at West End, put our feet up and enjoyed the sunset over a glass of wine and a cold beer, with MV Mary Rose in the background, likely doing the very same thing.

The Bigger Wait

It's been a month now.  Waiting.  For the past four weeks we've been lurking about on the East Coast of Florida, waiting for our window.  One day we thought it was looking pretty good so we decided to give it a try.  A few boats we knew were going across and while they were faster and saltier, we reasoned that if we got a head start we'd be out there for a couple of hours before them, they'd pass us and for most of the way we'd be within radio contact. We hoped.

So at 4:00 a.m., we weighed anchor and poked our nose out through Haulover Inlet.  

I didn't take us long (read seconds) to know that this was NOT to be.  Yikes!  It was pitch black and we were caught in big breaking waves.  Not comfortable at all, not to mention unsafe.  I don't know how we managed it, but we carefully turned the boat around and headed back in.  (Later we learned that Haulover Inlet is notoriously rough and there are numerous YouTube videos of boats trying to get through.  Who knew!  Oops.

Now what.  It was 4:00 a.m.  Shaken, we slowly putted south through a sleeping Miami and, feeling defeated, decided to just head to the Keys instead, through the calm ICW.

Once day broke, peaking out through the inlets we were passing, optimism reared it's hopeful head again.  We really wanted (read, needed) to get out of the States.  Aside from wanting to visit the Bahamas for pleasure, we had a legal issue.  We were not in possession of a U.S. cruising permit.  If stopped, and our explanations of bad weather, pleading and my tears didn't work, we could be stiffly fined and possibly kicked out of the country.  For the past several weeks, every time a U.S. customs boat went by, with it's flak-jacketed and armed crew, we had been averting our eyes and trying our best to look sweet and innocent.  We even tucked our Canadian flag into the rail, making it look like it was an accident, so they wouldn't notice we were a foreign flagged vessel.

Peering out through an inlet mid-morning, we decided, hey, it didn't look all that bad out there.  We decided to just poke our nose out into the ocean and see, maybe head to Bimini? That was out of U.S. territory.  It was pretty bumpy, but probably safe.  We travelled out for about an hour.  As we approached the gulf stream it got quite bumpy.  We agreed, this was tolerable but just at our threshold.  Any rougher, considering that we were out there alone in an older boat and had eight or so hours to go with degrading weather forecasted, we'd turn around.  Then we found some great big bumps.  Nope.  Not for us.  We both agreed, cruising permit-less or not, we turned around and headed in with our tails between our legs.  Safety had to be our first concern.  This was the ocean.  NOT to be messed with in our ageing coastal cruiser.  We would wait for our calm weather window.

So, like the last several weeks, we continued to spend more time swinging on the hook, moving the boat down to the Keys for awhile.  Not a bad place to hang out on the down low.

Tomorrow is looking good though.  Really light winds from the south, just what we want.  Our buddies on the boat M/V Mary Rose are headed to Fort Launderdale to stage for a crossing and we are on our way too.  It will be nice to be at a marina for a night and wash some of the salt crystals off the boat.  Eveything has that slimy, salty feel.  After a meeting over happy hour tonight, if all looks good, we'll head out across together at first light tomorrow morning.  The trip should take about 8-10 hours from Fort Lauderdale to the West End of Great Bahama Island.

Fort Lauderdale

Gilberts in Key Largo

Lauralei's in Islamorada

Dinghy 'sploring in Oleta State Park, North Miami

Swimming off the boat in Oleta State Park, Miami

Fort Lauderdale Port

Ugh.  Salt crystals hardened on our boat.

And here we are, at dock in Fort Lauderdale, all ready to head out to the great big sea at first light.
MV Mary Rose and MV Gran Vida, two 1979 thirty-four foot Canadian Trawlers.

The Big Wait

Winter is actually the "off season" in the Bahamas.  The popular time to cruise over is the spring and early summer, before the hurricane season.  That's when the winter North winds settle down and reams of  Florida boats zip across the gulf stream to enjoy the beautiful Bahamian seas.  To get to the Bahamas one has to cross the dreaded gulf stream, which is like a river inside the ocean, flowing Northerly up the coast of Florida.  It is about forty miles wide and can flow several knots.  The winter Northern winds kick up, which fight against the flow of the gulf stream, causing VERY big seas.  Those of us waiting to cross to the Bahamas during the winter months must watch the weather very carefully and choose a "window" of good weather with light winds from anywhere but the dreaded North.  Hopefully, from the South for a few days to let those waves lay down.

So the wait is on.  We're ready.  In place on the East coast of Florida.  Waiting.  And waiting.  Everyday, first thing, is a weather check.  We confer with other cruisers in the same position.  This year, just our luck, is a particularly bad weather year.  There's are a bunch of us here, not-so-patiently waiting.

But in the meantime, it's not too bad of a place to hang out!  We've been drifting from anchorage to anchorage up and down the East coast, dingy 'sploring, enjoying the weather and checking out several little towns.

Market in Stuart FL

Yup.  We went under there in the dinghy.

My knight on white "stallion", coming to fetch me.

Hmm... Lots of options.

Man O War

Fort Lauderdale.  Hmm.  Looks calm enough.... 
but according to the weather man, looks from shore can be deceiving.

We've been waiting at anchor for two weeks now. It's getting frustrating. We don't know how long we'll wait. Sitting eating breakfast in Fort Lauderdale, the ocean looks so calm.  We know, though, that that gentle breeze is from the North and would be wreaking havoc out in the Gulf Stream.  At some point we'll give up and head to the Keys instead.  It's all good. 

For the next few days we are at dock in Fort Lauderdale, emptying/filling our tanks, doing laundry, washing salt off the boat, gorging on wifi, etc.  We'll shove off again tomorrow to go back out on the hook.  There are rumours of a weather window on Thursday.  We'll see.....