fetchinketch

After our crazy weather experience at anchor a few days ago, we had a delightful sail back to the coast of Florida. For several months we have been sailing INTO the prevailing wind, and getting the chance to sail downwind is a relaxing change. The winds were mostly quite light, and the sailing slow. We coasted along at a steady, if sometimes a bit lethargic, pace.

Our crossing of the Gulf Steam was uneventful, although a bit “lumpy” as the north winds clashed with the northward flowing current. We arrived off of Fort Lauderdale at about 10PM and had our anchor down in South Lake in Hollywood, Florida by midnight.

Unlike our past experiences, checking into the USA was uneventful and went as it should have. The Border Patrol has a new system where you use a program on your mobile phone to check in. It took about 10 minutes, and that was it. We were approved.

Returning to “civilization” is always a bit of a system shock. It starts 20 miles offshore when you get within radio range of the coast. You hear so much chatter, and so much of it obnoxious and rude. The shock continues right on until you get to the grocery store, where the choices can be almost paralyzing.

It’s hard to understand the difference. Grocery shopping in the out islands is more like foraging. You never know what you’ll find on the shelf. If you see something you want, you get extra because it might not be there for months. In the USA it is hard to understand the excitement that can surge through the cruising fleet when people find out the market actually has bananas–for the first time in weeks.

We are settled in on the docks at Lauderdale Marine Center because they have the best rates around. We have some routine medical stuff to take care of, and we have a significant repair to our dinghy we need to make happen. After a few other minor things to source and fix, and then we’ll be off for points north.

We hunkered down in this small and protected harbor because we knew “weather” was coming. Royal Island Harbor is small, roughly 1 mile from east to west and a quarter that north to south, and closed in except for a narrow opening game to the south.

The forecast models suggested that we would be right on edge of the nasty conditions, maybe a bit south of the worst of it. In any event, we knew that we didn’t want to be out sailing in winds forecast to be in the low 30’s. We certainly can sail in those winds but really prefer to avoid it if possible.

This morning was calm and clear. There were clouds off to the north, but nothing ominous. Most of the day continued in the same vein, and by the middle of the afternoon I was thinking we might just dodge this bullet. Not true…

We were hanging on the anchor in a very light south wind. A glance out the companionway showed a line of dark and scary looking clouds to the north. I suggested that Karen might want to get the drying laundry inside just as the first cold breath of wind arrived from the north with a spit of rain in it. The boat quickly swung around and pointed into the new wind direction, and the clouds lowered and darkened.

The wind started to pick up, and the world started to change, and not for the better. A hundred yards outside our snug little harbor the waters of the bay were whirling around in a circle as a large water spout started to spin up (that’s a tornado to you landlubbers).

In 5 minutes the wind went from 4 knots from the south to 55 knots (!) from the northeast. Visibility was as close to zero as can be in drenching rain and blowing spray. The shoreline disappeared. All the other boats in the harbor disappeared. The bow of our boat disappeared. It was loud. It was, frankly, terrifying. Oh, yes, let’s not forget the lightening and thunder…

I started the engine so it would be ready if needed. During the worst of the blow I had the engine in gear taking some of the load off the anchor. I was at the helm watching the track of the boat swinging on the anchor as the GPS reported it’s position. We did not move a bit. That new—and bigger—Mantus anchor was worth every penny.

Right now, three hours later, we are sitting comfortably as I write with the wind still blowing at over 30 knots. After 55, 30 seems positively quiet and peaceful.

There are five other boats in the harbor: Three sailing catamarans, another sailing monohull of about 45 feet, and the 78 foot Cochise, the Dashew’s high end motor yacht. All of the catamarans dragged significantly, although none disastrously, and none in our direction. Before the front approached, Cochise had moved her position in the anchorage to get away from the crowd of catamarans in the eastern end. A wise move in retrospect.

We learned (and relearned) a few lessons. Most things we did right, and, as always, there were a few things we could have done better.

We chose a well protected place to wait out the weather, even though it took us a day or more out of our way to get here.

Whenever we anchor, we always prepare for the worst. We had our anchor set with enough chain out that we didn’t need to make frantic adjustments when the weather turned unexpectedly bad. Our anchor, chain, and snubber all did exactly what they were supposed to, in conditions worse than we expected.

In the case of bad weather the boats around you are likely to be the most dangerous things. Knowing the direction the wind was going to be coming from, we had positioned ourselves away from the crowd.

Winds over 45 knots really limit what you can do. You can’t see. You can’t walk upright. Improvising in case of a problem is really, really hard. If we had gotten in trouble and really needed to run, we should have had a buoy ready to clip on the anchor chain so we could drop it and recover later.

Overall, it went well. The boat, her systems, and her crew, all did well. Tomorrow’s forecast is for winds of 10 to 15 knots. Perfect for our next sailing leg.

We are anchored off of Spanish Wells in Royal Island Harbor. This is a tiny little bay that is unusual in this area of the Bahamas because it is an anchorage with excellent protection from wind and waves from all directions. We are here because a late winter cold front is forecast to pass through tomorrow. We’ll hunker down here until the wind and rain pass, and then resume our route west.

A couple hours after we arrived this morning an unusual looking aluminum hulled motor yacht came into the anchorage. Of a very distinctive design, it turned out to be the 78 foot long Cochise, the personnel boat of Steve and Linda Dashew. Steve is one of the best know yacht designers around and the FPB series of motor yachts is his ultimate idea of what a cruising yacht should be.

After we left Mayaguana we spent a few days at East Plana Cay, another uninhabited member of the Plana Island group.

With a small, poorly charted, and rather unprotected, anchorage the island is not often visited. The only evidence of other humans we found ashore were some footprints in dried mud in the interior of the island. The anchorage was beautiful, the beaches full of shells.

In the early 1960’s this island was the last place in the world where the Bahamian hutia could be found. These guinea pig-like rodents keep the vegetation diversity limited to those plants they find inedible. Despite that the island is green and beautiful. After visiting several islands that are now home to large populations of hutia, we have yet to see a live one. They apparently are very strictly nocturnal.

Foootprints we did find on the island were:

The most common trees on the island are the machaneel tree, “the little apple of death” with sap so nasty if you sit under the tree in the rain it will raise scarring blisters on your skin.

A fair number of Turk’s Head Catus were to be found. A normal looking green barrel cactus, with a large red flower stalk.

The flowers themselves are tiny, and buried down in the spines, probably designed to be pollinated by ants.

The island had large number of curly-tailed lizards of a species different than we have seen elsewhere.

And a resident pair of nesting osprey who have been adding to this nest for many years.

In her beach combing Karen was determined to find a helmet. Always helpful, I called her over when I found one…

She did better herself, finding the kind helmet shell she really wanted…

It is an unfortunate fact that on only ocean island these days there will be lots of trash. Much of what we see is lost bits and pieces of commercial fishing gear. Here, for example, is a large piece of a net…

Sometimes you find something less common, like this radio buoy used by long line fishermen. Long liners fish with baited hooks suspended from long—VERY long—lines. Every 10 miles of line, they attached a radio buoy. so they can keep track of the lines. Tuna and swordfish are the most common targets of they fishery. Apparently, sometimes the buoys themselves go walkabout…

We did some fishing ourselves in the deep waters surrounding the island. This is one pull of line from 600 feet deep. Three silk snapper, and one red snapper.

I have managed to work out a system for retrieving this much line without having my arm fall off…

I know, I know… it’s CHEATING! I agree… right up to the moment that a fillet of silk snapper lands on my dinner plate. They are SOOOO good…

In two or three days we’ll be landing in Fort Lauderdale, and running around to routine doctor visits, and resupply stops, repair shops, and then start heading north.

In our onshore excursion today we did take an extended walk across the island away from the main road. See below for the circumstances around that time killing exercise. The variety of plants that grow here is astounding. Including plants that you might have heard of, but never actually seen. The basic ecosystem is a mixed hardwood forest, with the tallest trees maybe 15 to 20 feet tall. Mahogany, Lignum vitae, and tamarind are common. Poisonwood and machaneel are common enough to make you careful about what you touch. Flowers and butterflies abound. A delightful place.

In looking at our cruising plans for the summer season, we realized that we really want to get further north, maybe as far as Newfoundland. If that is going to be a priority, then heading north early is going to be a good idea. Since we have already touched the places that were on our visit list for this winter, it seems like this is a good place to turn around. So… for this season Mayaguana, Bahamas is going to be our furthest south and east destination. Tomorrow we begin to retrace our steps back in the direction that we came from.

Our first stop on our return trip will be to revisit the Plana Cays. This time, we’ll be checking out East Plana Cay which looks to be at least as much fun as West Plana Cay where we stayed a week ago. We’ll be there for a few days beach combing, bushwacking, snorkeling, and fishing.

Our real adventure today was getting our Bahamian fishing license renewed. This requires a trip to the Customs Office. Last year when we did this in the city of Marsh Harbor, we presented our paperwork and the officer in charge made disapproving noises about the staff at Bimini. He said that our fishing permit should have been good for a year. He crossed out the original date, wrote in a new one, and sent us on our way. Problem solved.

Out here, things were a bit more complex. We had to redo ALL our paperwork as if we were entering the country for the first time. Then it has to all be approved and stamped by the “Administrator.” Stamping is very important, and only the Administrator can do the stamping.

The problem is that the Administrator is not in the office. It seems he is out at the airport meeting today’s plane. “He’ll be back in a half hour.” Now, we know what that means in island time. So we go for a walk (see above) and return 90 minutes later, at noon. The Administrator is not back yet, and somehow is STILL expected in a half hour. Karen is smart enough to ask when the plane is due.

“Oh, One o’clock. Maybe One-thirty. If it’s not late.”

We walk down to the beach and hang out until two o’clock. Our paperwork is finally ready, with all the official stamps in lots of places.

Out at the Plana Cays we’ll be internet limited again, with only our sat phone connection. Just imagine… The pleasure of NOT reading the news for a week. 🙂

If you are reading this on email or Facebook you might want to click through to FetchinKetch.net to see all the photos.

We left the uninhabited island of West Plana Cay yesterday morning and arrived at the barely inhabited (pop: 277) island of Mayaguana in the early evening. We stopped here two years ago and enjoyed it, but moved on before we had a chance to explore much. Mayaguana is blessed with a very well protected harbor, and It looks like we’ll be here for several days as a weather front passes.

As promised, here are some pictures that we have accumulated since our last internet connection..

Our arrival in Abraham’s Bay, Mayaguana was heralded with one of the more spectacular sunsets we have seen, and we see a lot of awesome sunsets!

Like I said in the last post… when the weather agrees, you go along!

From our anchorage at Acklins Island we had some successes and some disappointments. Our first day, we spent fishing. We trolled lures all along the edge of the reef and got nothing. Nothing… until it was time to pull up the lines at the end of the day. After several hours of trying with no luck we were headed back into the anchorage. I had pulled in all the lines except the last handline, and it was almost halfway into the boat when a cero mackerel grabbed the lure, and ended up in our freezer. About as “last minute” a success as you can have!

The next day was beach exploring. The beaches are beautiful, but were a little bit of a disappointment for Karen because there was a lack of interesting shells. We had expected to do some exploring inland, but that was not to be. This part of the island is not sand or solid rock, but rather a jumble of large, angular coral rock boulders. Very unfriendly to try to walk on.

We decided to take advantage of a break in the weather and jump to the next landmark. A 10 hour sail to the Plana Cays, a pair of uninhabited islands along the route to Mayaguana, our next major landfall. As we rounded the southern corner of Acklins Island, there is a long deep reef system that extends to the east. We paused there to drop a line, and in fairly short order pulled a nice, big, bright red “silk snapper” up from 400 feet under the boat. The rest of the sail was as nice as they come. Karen suggested that if sailing was always like this we’d sail until the food ran out. Daybreak brought us up to West Plana Cay were we anchored in the lee of the island.

The first beach-combing expedition here on West Plana turned up more shells, although Karen is still reserving judgement about how awesome it will be. Both East and West Plana Cay are currently uninhabited, but we did find ruins of very old occupations. Also, a pile of conch shells where the visiting fisherman clean their catch.

We even found the skull of a rodent, obviously not a common rat, it is wider and much heavier. It is almost surely the remains of the the only native mammal in the Bahamas, the Bahamian Hutia. The Plana Cays were the last place they were found before they were reintroduced to other islands. We didn’t see any evidence of living hutia on the island, but a marked lack of diversity in the local flora suggest that they might be here in significant numbers.

We’ll be watching the weather for the next few days here since this anchorage is open to the ocean the the east, it is not a place we want to be in case of a change in the winds. Our next harbor will be Mayaguana, about 30 miles to windward of our current location. Once we get there we’ll have a connection to allow posting of photos.