Community

We arrived yesterday in Elizabeth Harbour, the southernmost port in the Exumas, a long and slender chain of low-lying cays stretching southeastward from Nassau.  The previous day, we had sailed from Rose Harbor, just east of Nassau, leaving at 8:00 to assure ourselves of clear skies when traversing between the Yellow and White Banks -- each bank known for its coral heads.  By 3 pm, we passed through the cut from the banks to Exuma Sound, pushing against a 3 knot current of ocean surging onto the low-lying bank on a flood tide.  Out came the fishing lines, to take advantage of the current upwellings when the depth goes from 12 feet to 4,000 feet in a matter of a few hundred yards.  These underwater cliffs make the bahamas some of the best fishing grounds in the world.  Not five minutes later, we had a strike -- a large grouper.  Too large it turns out.  As a reef-dwelling fish, the larger groupers have fed on so many smaller reef fish -- each of which contains minute quantities of a poisonous toxin.  Without local knowledge as to which groupers are safe and which are not, we decided to throw it back, and off it swam.  


Not to worry; an hour later, another strike, and this was a keeper -- a nice-sized wahoo, which we promptly cut into two long, meaty filets and stowed in the fridge.  


Flanked by a rising moon and setting sun, we turned slightly south to southeast, and began a long, tough slog down Exuma Sound.  The good news?  We were in deep water.  The bad news?  The wind was coming directly from the direction we needed to sail to make Elizabeth Harbour.  The seas picked up as the wind freshened to about 22 knots true -- beating against the wind at a 45 degree angle, the wind across our faces blew at a frisky 25 knots or so, making for a bumpy ride.


As morning came, and the sun and moon reversed positions in the sky, we were a short 12 miles from Elizabeth Harbour, and its adjacent town of Georgetown -- a sort of mecca for cruising sailboats.  It's a large, natural harbour, flanked by Great Exuma to the west, and the barrier Stocking Island to the east.  Before entering, I made sure to hoist the burgee of the Seven Seas Cruising Association -- a global community of long-distance sailors and cruisers.   Approaching the twisting entrance, we dropped sails, and guided by Guita on the charts, and Jennifer and Stephen on the bows alert for shoals and corals, we made our way into the storied harbour past dozens and dozens of boats anchored in the lee of Stocking Island.  We dropped the hook, lowered the dinghy, and cleaned the boat from its thick coating of salt crystals. 


As we dove to check the anchor's set, a dinghy approached to "welcome us to the neighborhood."  Seeing we were busy, they promised to come back; they too were SSCA members, and by their burgee, I could tell they had logged thousands of cruising miles.  Given our 'newbie' status, we could learn a lot from them, so Jennifer and I hustled over in our dinghy, and invited them to share a dinner of barbecue-baked wahoo and rice pilaf.  George and Kim brought the wine, and over dinner they regaled us with stories and advice, as we shared a bit of our backgrounds and experiences.  Sailing, like most intensive activities, bvreeds its own culture and norms.  Sub-cultures exist as well; the cruising culture is to share generously of one's time, insights, supplies, and experiences.  I'm glad we joined the SSCA, and I'm glad we hoisted that burgee, and I'm glad we chanced upon such a lovely couple.  Mostly I'm glad for the existence of community.  

Sunday brought a bright, calm day, and we spent the day ashore and relaxing on the boat.  In a bit, we'll head over for the every-Sunday pig roast at the "Chat 'n Chill," a beachside impromptu gathering of cruisers eager to share their stories and hear others.  It's the Georgetown, Exumas equivalent of a community clubhouse.  We're looking forward to more sailing in the days ahead, to Panama and beyond, always buoyed by this palpable sense of community.

It's A Blessing

Grace and we lie snug on the south side of Rose Island, just east of New Providence’s Nassau harbor, after a two-part 110-mile sail from Bimini.  We left Wednesday at noon or so, after a morning of final errands and preparations.  After spending a few days acclimating ourselves to life outside the US, it became clear that we had a few too much of a few items, and Jennifer walked to the laundry to give Melinda several rolls of large, clear plastic bags.  Boats are, by their nurture and nature, damp environments, and plastic bags serve a vital purpose in keeping things dry (or drier).  We had overstocked.  Melinda was grateful for the gift, and reminded us of the conservative and religious foundation of these islands’ peoples when she said: “It’s a blessing.”

We offered some spare items to some of our fellow cruisers, let loose the dock lines, and headed north of Bimini harbor into a moderate easterly breeze and deep blue waters, intending to turn the corner and head southeast across the Grand Bahama Bank.  The Bank is a geologic wonder, a huge uplifting of the earth’s surface lying between the Gulf Stream, the Tongue of the Ocean, and set of deep-water channels.  Its average depth might approach 10 feet , with crystalline waters revealing every starfish, coral, and grassy bank below.  To a Chesapeake and blue-water sailor, it’s more than a bit disconcerting to be so sublimely aware of the only thing that really threatens a boat:  a hard, unforgiving bottom.

Turning north, and well before we entered the bank, the boat’s starboard engine shuddered, slowed, and then stopped.  This was a problem of a very different nature:  limited power and limited steerage in open waters.  Thankfully, it had not happened as we passed the rusty Bimini inter-island freighter in the narrow passage out of the harbor.  One lock astern revealed the problem:  a long tangle of discarded thick polypropylene  towing line had ensnared itself around the prop.  Out comes the mask and snorkel, over the side we go, and with a few shakes and turns, the line comes free and, thankfully – blessfully --  the engine starts back up and we round North Rock for the Bank. 

Twelve hours later, under a near-full moon and after a fast, gentle ESE sail across the Bank, we arrive at the NW Channel light marking the narrow gap between the Bank and the Tongue of the Ocean.  Rather than risk running aground in the narrow channel flanked by reefs and shoals, we anchored on the Bank for about 5 hours, waiting for first light.  To pass safely through Nassaus’s entrance channels, with its even shallower waters, we needed to pass the Channel light at first light; a few hours of sleep and an early morning call to arms, and we were back in deep waters, headed for Nassau.

By early afternoon, the huge hotels of Paradise Island were clearly visible on the southeastern horizon, rising like faintly-gothic towers atop a blue desert of ocean.  We were motor-sailing to assure a timely arrival before the sun got too low to reveal any lurking coral heads lying below the shallow eastern entrance channels of Nassau.  We made Salt Cay, just east of the Nassau entrance at 3:30 or so, and dropped sail and began to creep into the channels.  Making landfall in a new port is inevitably an anxious experience, and this proved no exception. The Bahamians are not known for laying clear markers (if any!), and with Guita reading off our coordinates and position, and Jennifer and Stephen keeping a keen watch from the boat, we crept south then east then north then west.  In eight feet of water, nestled on the south side of Rose Island, facing a faintly white rising moon, we dropped anchor.  A quick jump  overboard to check the anchor’s grip on the bottom revealed a scattering of starfish and small clumps of sea grass.  Dinner soon followed – an Iranian chicken and rice dish, with cucumber and yogurt (Guita is Iranian), and then a collective review of our next days’ passages.  As the moon brightened with the lights of Nassau behind us twinkling white, green, blue and green, Melinda’s words came back:  It’s a blessing.

Cold Fronts and Calypso Beats

Tuesday, January 26, 2010


The cold front passed through yesterday afternoon, bringing overcast skies, a shift of the wind from the southeast to the north, and a brief welcome burst of rain to wash our decks, sails, and windows.  After a Sunday spent gathering the soaked sheets and blankets from the drenching caused by leaving a porthole open on the crossing, we spent the day working under a sky that gradually filled with clouds, against a wind that moved around a clock dial through the SE to the S to the SW to the W to the NW, and finally, with cool air and a brilliant night sky, to the north.  As the rain shower began, we took advantage of the free fresh water to scrub the boat down with brushes and soap.  Water is 30 cents a gallon in these islands, a result of diminishing aquifers, pricey diesel to run desalination plants, and a relative dearth of rainwater to fill cisterns.  The clocking wind also brought us relief from the hourly checking of our fenders, used to keep the boat from slamming against the dock’s pilings.  Now the wind pushes us off the dock, and our new problem is adjusting the lines so that each boarding and disembarking doesn’t require a cartoon-like stretch of legs and arms.


Before the rain, laundry, re-packing the supplies in the now-again dry bilges, and making a trek to the building supply store to purchase some planking for future use in tenuous docking arrangements took up the better part of the day.  Engaging with the island’s commercial enterprises allows us to understand more about the people that call Bimini home.  We met Melinda, who runs the laundromat; Tin-Tin, who rides the streets in a bicycle festooned with license plates and Mardi Gras beads; the tram driver who sang to the calypso songs of Bimini native Stevie S., currently serving 5 years in the Nassau jail for statutory rape; a host of local fishermen looking to sell us lobster and conch; and Anthony, who heads up the security service at the nearby South Bimini Sands Resort.  We first met Anthony the afternoon before at Big John’s Bar, at the end of our dock, where we traded stories about football games as we watched the NFL conference championships while updating our blogs and drinking sodas, beers, and whiskey sours.  Security guards make about $300/week in at that exclusive resort and marina; healthcare insurance takes about $9/week out of that check.


Later, after the rain, after some well-deserved naps, and as the sun began to set, the Abaco-based calypso band Hipnotics set up shop at Big John’s, along with the crew of several local fishing boats returning from the Banks after a few days of commercial spearfishing for grouper, hogfish, and snapper.  Like fishermen everywhere, they were ready to drink, dance, and party.  A grill appeared; conch were broken open, pounded until tender, and along with chicken wrapped in foil, put on a rolling barbecue.  Drinks emerged from the bar, from bottles tucked around corners on the dock, and from hip flasks.  The lean, bright-smiled drummer knocked his sticks together four times, the keyboardist pounded the keys and the offstage bassist kicked into a solid 6 hour set of remarkably tight, well-rehearsed mix of reggae, calypso, and hip-hop.  Highlights?  A great medley of Marley’s “Stir it Up” with the Motown classic “Tracks of my Tears,” and (who could imagine) a fast-paced sunny-side-up version of the antiwar classic “Where Have All The Flowers Gone.”  By this time, Anthony had graciously asked Stephen for permission to ask Guita to dance, and proceeded to relate to Guita his recollection of where the Flowers had all gone.  Billy Flowers went to Nassau; Jimmy went to the U.S., and so on.  It turns out there is a large family of Flowers on Bimini.  Who knew?


By 9:30, probably just as the party was gearing up, we were winding down.  Back to the boat; a few moments reflecting on the progress made over the day; and a restful night with the boat safely kept off the dock by a cool dry wind.  The front had passed through; the rain had washed away the salt and grime; and through the hulls, the infectious beat of the Hipnotics’ played on through the night.


/jon

Arrived in Bimini, Bahamas

Ile de Grace arrived safely in Bimini, Bahamas yesterday. They experienced rougher than expected seas, but all seem in good spirits today. Jennifer and Stephen were hanging out in a bar watching some football earlier this afternoon when I spoke to them via ichat. They will remain in Bimini for a few days to wait for another window in the weather. More updates soon...and hopefully some lovely tropical pictures to take our minds off this cold and dreary weather!

Mishaps

Sunday, January 24, 2010

Try not to leave a port tired.  Yesterday, the official start of our long-planned circumnavigation, we left Fort Lauderdale after what might reasonably be called a three-year sprint to the starting line.  We had finished bringing the boat down from Annapolis on New Year’s Eve, and spent the next three weeks in an orchestrated  minuet of: unplugging from our professional, personal, and family connections; overseeing the final repairs, improvements,  and additions to our 44’ foot Fountaine-Pajot catamaran; and supplying ourselves with enough staples and dried goods for a year. 

I was tired of being cooped up in a marina, and we had a weather window to Bimini, so at first light, we slipped the dock lines, eased out of the slip, and headed west.  The forecast was light and variable till mid-afternoon, when the wind would pick up from the E-NE, allowing us time to enter and cross the nearby Gulf Stream before the wind created too much of a chop.

The forecast held – but only until 10:00 or so, when the winds picked up to 20-22 knots from the east.  We raised sail with a double reef, and settled in for a bumpy motor sail across the Stream, needing to make the 50 miles to Bimini by late afternoon to avoid running aground on the unmarked shifting sands and coral visible only in daylight.

First mishap:  as we were setting sail, we neglected to bring in the fishing line we had promptly set, hoping to catch some dinner on the way over.  The yellow, 100 lb test line promptly wrapped itself around out wind generator, creating an unholy mess.  We were lucky – had a fish of size chosen to strike our lure, it would have likely twisted one of our props before setting off dragging 50 yards of line and (perhaps) a piece of our generator.  My brother Stephen, who is joining us for the first long leg of our trip, along with his wife Guita, brought the line in quickly, but not before the line managed to wrap itself – oh, maybe 500 times – around the hub of the wind generator.

The lack of sleep, bumpy ride, and newness of the Gulf Stream sea conditions conspired to send my wife and co-captain Jennifer down for what turned out to be a nice long nap.  Guita soon followed.  The winds remained steady at 20-22 knots from the east, and with two reefs and two 30hp Volvos, we were making a respectable 6 knots to the southeast, on a tight beat. 

Second mishap:  A few nights earlier, at our marina, I had opened the porthole on the interior of our port bow to allow some interior breeze to flow through for Stephen and Guita, whose cabin lay in the port aft.  (You know where this is going.)  A few hours before making landfall, I did a check of the cabins and found myself stacking a large pile of sea-soaked bedding atop a sea-soaked foam cushion mattress.  The water had also drained into our port bilge – where thankfully, we had triple- and quadruple wrapped our dry goods and provisions.

Arriving in Bimini, we encountered a strong southward setting current at ebb tide, coupled with the persistent 20-25 knots of wind from the east.  We had arranged with Weech’s Bimini Dock to take us in for a few nights, and they had saved a spot for us along the N-S running bulkhead.  With a few pits in my stomach, I circled the dock area once, and let IDG drift to stop about 30 yards east of the docking area, and let the wind push us sideways onto the dock.  With some dockside assistance and the timely introduction on bumpers by my now fully-alert shipmates, we managed to tie alongside safely – and without mishap!  An hour or so processing paperwork, arranging bumpers, and making a start on the yellow fishing line tangle, we were safe and secure, and ready for showers, some food, and, yes, some sleep.

The following morning's sunrise and subsequent brunch eased the pit in my stomach from causing so much unnecessary hardship on our boat and my shipmates.  The day was filled with sunshine and wind, chores and errands, and ended with a solid night's sleep (again) by all.  Never leave tired, but if you do, head to Bimini and be blessed with understanding shipmates.

/jon

The Journey Begins

Jon, his brother Stephen and sister-in-law Gita, and I leave Ft. Lauderdale later this morning. Our first leg is a short journey across the Gulf Stream to the island of Bimini in the Bahamas. The boat is provisioned, and as ready as she'll ever be. I know that may people have embarked on such a journey much less prepared than we are---so it is now time to stop preparing and planning and start doing. We are about 3 weeks behind our original departure plans, but all in all that's not bad. We've shut down our house and lives on land, and are quite excited to head into blue waters.

There are many people to thank who have helped us along the way, from our broker Gregor, to Fountaine Pajot and to all the marine workers who've laid their hands and talents on the ile de Grace. But the 2 people I must thank the most are our two children, David and Katharine. They have supported us, advised us, encouraged us, performed critical tasks along the way when Jon and I could not manage it all, and will continue to back us up back on the home front.

So, to David and Katharine: You have our deepest gratitude and appreciation. We set sail with you both in our hearts and look forward to your joining us when your schedules permit.

Next post: The Bahamas

We're in Ft. Lauderale

Hoping to leave soon. Will update even sooner.

2009 Update

OK, I know it’s been a year and I apologize for being negligent in updating the blog. Much happened in 2009 and it wasn’t all to do with the boat. Nevertheless, we spent a lot of time installing upgrades so that the ile de Grace is ready for extended ocean passages.

One of the first upgrades Jon and I did was to replace all the through hulls, which were plastic, with bronze ones. A through hull is a hole in your hull where sea water may enter. Yes, you sometimes want this so that you can flush your toilets, drain your showers and use your sea water pumps to wash down the decks. It's just very important that the valves work well and bronze is much better than plastic.

We added a Spectra water maker, which can produce 14 gallons of fresh water from seawater in one hour. Our water tanks carry 140 gallons, which is nice, but the water maker will ensure that on long passages we not only will have plenty of water for drinking and cooking, but also for bathing and laundry.

Speaking of which, yes, we put a washing machine on the boat. I am sure that if this journey were being conducted by only men, then a bucket would have sufficed nicely. But clothes damp with salty water never dry and soon stink. And, as I learned on the Atlantic crossing, laundromats on islands can be very expensive and can take all day given the high demand around marinas. Next to the washer, we installed a freezer. It looks like an ice chest, but was designed for ambulances and is 12 volt. This is a benefit of having a daughter who is a paramedic. She took me to an EMS convention to help me outfit our medic kit, and we discovered the perfect freezer for the boat. Now, when we catch fish at sea we can store it and we can provision for the long sea passages ahead.

We also added a hatch in the starboard bow. Truth be told, this was the only way we could get the washing machine inside, but it also gives us access to the top from our primary storage area, and, most importantly it adds a lot of natural light to what is also our work area. We are quite happy with how it turned out.

Moving to the back of the boat, we added a stern arch to hold 4 solar panels and a wind generator. Since they were installed last July, our batteries have have stayed fully charged and we are extremely pleased with their performance. The solar panels can generate 28 amps. We added a stronger motor mount for the outboard engine for our dinghy, which is braced to the stern arch. The arch also allows us to elevate our GPS antennas and to troll for fish.

After our stanchion broke in the Atlantic, I was never happy with the weight distribution for the cockpit roof (which supports our boom traveler). We decided to add a fourth stanchion behind the inside of the helm station for added stability. It also will be a nice handhold in rough weather.

We added six more hand rails along the boat. For ocean sailing these were a must. The new hand hold at the helm station looks as if it was original to the boat, and it should have been. On the Atlantic crossing, there was nothing to hold on to when steering. I also added an extra rope bag at the helm station to make storing the lines easier. Although after I changed the reefing system so that it could all be done from the helm (which meant I added three more lines to the mix), the second line bag became a necessity, not just a convenience.

Other upgrades included adding an auto pilot repeater at the navigation table which allows us to make adjustments from inside the boat in nasty weather, installing a ham radio (Jon passed both of his FCC licensing tests and we hope to get over our radio shyness on the journey), replacing the hand pump toilet in our cabin with a fresh water electric toilet (a big deal to boaters), seriously upgrading our mattress, and installing curtains in the main salon. We also repainted the bottom hulls with a paint that will hopefully see us to Australia.

The boat certainly feels more like our home, and the process of customizing it has also made it more our own. I must of all give a lot of credit to Georgetown Yacht Basin, of Georgetown, Maryland for doing all this amazing work. David Ellison coordinated all the projects and Mike, Zinger, Matthew, Rick and others contributed extraordinary skill and talent to make all these upgrades look like there were original from the factory.

Finally, I must thank Fountaine Pajot and our broker, Gregor Tarjan, for following through on the warranty repairs. The helm station was reattached and the leaks were repaired in excellent manner by the folks at Georgetown Yacht Basin, but FP stood by their product and reimbursed us for the repairs. A big thanks to all.

Up next.....our journey down the east coast this fall to Ft. Lauderdale, Florida.