January 12, 2008. We’re here!

It’s funny that no matter how much you plan and prepare while traveling by sailboat it all seems to fall apart so easily.

This morning three boats in our group opted to head back to Marathon. One boat decided to wait and cross the Gulf Stream at night so as to arrive on the Bahama Banks during daylight. That left 6 of us.

Our crossing was to be in an east north east direction for a distance of 92 miles. A straight line from point “A” to point “B” is known as the Rhumb Line. I had read about a suggested tactic for crossing the stream that seemed to make a lot of sense to me.

Since the Gulf Stream moves from south to north the flow will try to drive us north of our destination. Then as you realize that you are too far north you start to compensate by slowly turning more southward. Now instead of using all your boat speed to move ENE you’re using some speed to fight the current. This exasperates the problem by leaving you exposed to the current for a longer period of time. So you turn even further south making things even worse.

Now throw in the fact that the wind is from the southeast. This means that as you turn south to fight the effects of the stream you’re slowly bringing the bow of your boat into the wind. Now you lose the ability to sail and your day is pretty much going to suck
What I’ve suggested is that we start out heading 20 miles south of our destination. At first we’ll make good headway but in the wrong direction. Then as the gulf streams current starts to push us it will force us up to our Rhumb Line. We’ll allow this to happen and will never have to turn “downstream” to fight the current. If by chance we end up too far south then we can adjust course late in the crossing and actually improve our angle of sail and ride the current.

What I’ve proposed makes good sense to Jim on Freedom so we’ll be heading out on a course of 92 degrees rather than the rhumb line course of 73 degrees. The other 4 boats are headed straight from A to B.

Freedom travels just ever so slightly slower than we do so he headed out about an hour before everyone else. We’ve got 92 miles to catch him so it should work out.

In the morning Freedom was up and underway while I walked the dogs. We ended up hauling anchor at 0715 and headed directly into the rising sun through a huge field of crab pots. Once clear of the reef we turned to follow Freedom while the other 4 boats headed straight to Point B.

When crossing the Gulf Stream planning is essential. Although, we do have a friend that crossed the stream in a boat just bigger than a bucket with his wife and another couple and did just fine. But then Charlie’s always been lucky.

If there’s any north component to the wind it will battle the north flowing stream and generate short, choppy and downright dangerous sea conditions. 15 knots from the north could be fatal; 10 knots from the north could make you wish for the sweet release of death. So everyone waits for a weather window with some southerly breeze. It should also have some duration to the window, 36 hours minimum. If you leave with the breeze (light) coming from the southeast it should clock around and come from the south and best case, finish up from the west. Of course that’s the dream scenario and should always start with “Once upon a time….”
January 12, 2008. We’re here!

So we left with the breeze coming from the southeast with the promise of a midday swing from the south. We were supposed to get 5 to 10 knots and what we got was a more brisk 16 to 18 knots. This left us motor sailing close hauled fighting our way out to the center of the stream. It was rough going but we were able to make remarkable headway all things considered. It was quite the wild, wet ride with the bow plunging into the odd wave on more than one occasion sending hundreds of gallons of water up over the cabin top. Our anchors have never been so clean. Even with the ridiculous amount of provisions we have on board Veranda handled the seas very well.

30 miles out we were close to 4 miles south of the rhumb line and by the time we were 55 miles across we had been swept northward to only one mile south of the line. The other 4 boats had fallen into the “trap” and had been swept to far north to be able to make headway against the conditions. Just past the center of the stream they decided to adjust course and run past Bimini about 20 miles to the north. And then there were 2……..

Once they turned north their sailing conditions improved drastically and we listened to them make it safely to North Rock where they stopped for the night. The only bad thing about this is that now they’re so far north they’ll have to stop in the Berry Islands to check in and probably have to wait out an approaching storm there as well. The rhumb line decision will probably get them to Nassau a week after us. It’s kind of funny how small choices can have big implications.

We stopped feeling the effects of the stream about 20 miles from our destination and were still just below the rhumb line. This enabled us to shut off the engine and sail the rest of the way. This also allowed Freedom to catch up as they were now 2 miles behind us.

It was now dark and the Freedoms are without radar so we’d like to stick fairly close so our radar can be an extension of their eyes as well. We crossed onto the Bahama Bank at South Riding Rock as planned at 2100 hours. It was pitch black, we never saw less than 15 feet of water, we also never saw anything at all. The radar was able to pick out both South Riding and Castle Rocks and we were safely on the Banks.

Our trip across the banks was about 60 miles. The depths ranged from 11 to 15 feet so depths weren’t an issue. The wind had abated to 12 knots so we were able to sail for most of the night ghosting along between 4 and 7 seven knots. The waters surface was very flat and made for a wonderful sail.

Often sailors will make their crossing of the Gulf Stream and once on the banks will drop the hook to get a few hours of rest. It’s a little bizarre to see as they’d be anchored in 12 feet of water in the middle of the ocean with no land in sight. Of course while they’re sleeping the weather isn’t and things can go to hell quickly so we decide to keep moving.

Christy and I alternated naps as we sailed through the blanket of darkness. The area is alive with boats moving slowly here and there while night fishing. At one point we were tracking 7 boats at the same time as Freedom and us transited their fishing grounds.

It all goes well and we’re treated to a spectacular sunrise as we turn south into the Tongue of the Ocean. The Tongue of the Ocean is a deep undersea canyon that splits the Bahamas. We went from 15 feet to over 2000 in less than a mile and shortly after that the bottom was a staggering 8000 feet below. We were headed south so of course the south wind that took such good care of us during the night was now right on the nose. We started the engine and motor sailed as close to the wind as we could until we had to drop all sail for the last 8 miles of our trip.

The entrance to the anchorage at Morgan’s Bluff on Andros Island is deep and well marked. We were anchored inside together with Freedom in 10 feet of crystal clear, mint green water.

After dropping the hook I showered and went over to pick up Jim so we could head into “town” to check in with Customs and Immigration. After asking about everyone we met, we found the Customs agent in his tiny office. After a phone call we were sent to the local bar to await the arrival of the Immigration official from his post at the airport.

He showed up in a half an hour and after fifteen minutes of paperwork we headed back over to the Customs guy. Another 15 minutes of paperwork and me handing over the $300 fee for the cruising permit, we were set to begin our assimilation into the Bahamas cruising culture.

Talking to the people here is a trip. Listening to Jim talk to them is even better. They talk in a rapid fire mumble where if you’re lucky you might catch every tenth word. In talking to the Customs guy when I asked him to repeat something he would say it all again in a slower more purposeful fashion and suddenly it would all be crystal clear. Then it would click in my head like “ holy shit, I just heard him say that” It just takes a second or two to analyze what you think you heard and cross reference it with the conversation “you’ think you’re having and come up with something reasonable he might have said. It’s just that couple of seconds to analyze everything said makes people look at you like you’re a little retarded.

I asked directions to the Customs Office from a woman when we first got off the dock. She said something like “Buma blanna pinnochio pistachio falala lala” Thank God she semi pointed the direction or I wouldn’t even known which way to face after getting these directions.


Jim has the Midwest slower twang/drawl thing goin’ on, so he’s behind the eight ball from the get go. When he was talking to the Immigration Officer he would answer a question and the guy would respond “I didn’t ask you anything about your wife”. After getting the answer he was looking for he would ask another. Then Jim would reply and the guy would look at him and say “I didn’t ask how much you boat weighs” The guy was merciless. Three questions in a row, three answers from left field. I’m glad it ended quickly because suppressing laughter is not my strong suit.

Once back on the boat we lowered our quarantine flag and hoisted the national flag of our host country the Bahamas.

Out trip ended up being a jaunt of 172 nautical miles over the span of 28 nonstop hours. I’m glad its over, its time for a nap. Tomorrow it’s off on a 38 mile romp to Nassau where we’ll refuel and wait out the expected northerly before heading down the Exhuma island chain.