The Game Winning Edition

     Leaving Plain Bay and Black Point was difficult, but not as difficult as leaving Nassau.  We had arrived in Nassau by way of Highborne Cay on Friday and crossed the Yellow Bank to Nassau on Saturday.  While in Nassau we did some provisioning for the boat, bought some more snorkeling gear and visited downtown Nassau and the infamous Strawmarket.  On Monday we treated ourselves to an excursion to Atlantis and the casino.  All of our winnings were graciously refunded back to the casino at the one-arm-bandits.  Monday evening included docktails with about 15 others boaters from the marina.

     Tuesday, we had a small weather window to cross the Tongue Of The Ocean.  Our plan was to leave late in the morning, cross the Tongue and continue through the night across the Great Bahama Bank to arrive at sunrise in Bimini.  Our departure was around 11am and the seas were 5 foot swells at 8 second intervals out of the NE as we traveled to the NW.  Yes, the ride was a little "bumpy", but very manageable, so we made like a sailboat and were tacking across the sea to minimize the seas' effect.  Around 1:30 pm, the engine started to surge from 1500 RPM to 1800 RPM.  Quite an unusual surge, so I raced back to the cockpit to see if there was any prop wash.  The prop wash looked okay indicating that we were still underway.  I quickly returned to the pilothouse where the engine continued to surge.  My next inclination was to shift the transmission into neutral, which stopped the engine from surging.  Okay, the surge was transmission related, off to the engine room.  No smoke, no odors, everything seemed fine.  Back to the pilothouse where I engaged the transmission and nothing happened.  Our SOG (speed over ground) continued to fall off indicating we had lost propulsion.  This time I went to the saloon and opened the floor hatches to access the engine room.  Once I had the hatch(s) open, I asked Sharon to engage the transmission - nothing, nada, zilch, caput. No propeller shaft turning, the transmission died.  At this point in time, we are 12 miles out to sea in 2500 meters of water, and the seas were buffeting the boat on the beam, from the side.  After a few minutes, I grabbed the radio and issued a distress call for assistance.  And like the engine's transmission -NOTHING.  All attempts to hail for assistance by VHF radio fell on deaf ears.  I then decided to call  the marina we had just left by cell phone, before we lost phone coverage.  I was able to contact the dockmaster but he was of no help.  Can you imagine a dockmaster with many years of experience, and he can't help you with a tow service to call.  Finally, I hailed BASRA (Bahama Air Sea Rescue Association) who said they would contact a tow vessel for us, but in the meantime, he was going to address another emergency that was more important than us who were adrift on the open sea.  Finally at 3:45pm, BASRA hailed that they had secured a tow vessel to rescue us.  The captain of the tow vessel then contacted us by VHF and instructed us he was on his way to pick up his crew and his tow vessel.  He would need to fuel up the boat before he could come for us.  When I asked what his ETA was for our location he estimated he would be there around 5:00 pm.

         As late afternoon dragged on, the winds were increasing and so were the waves.  The 5' swells at 8 second intervals were now turning into 6-8' seas hitting Big Run on the beam, the side of the boat, causing the boat to violently roll from side to side.  At times I would look at our clinometer, which indicated how much the boat is heeling over or leaning to one side or the other.  45 DEGREES of roll to one side and 45 DEGREES roll back over to the other side then again back to the other and so on, continuously.  If we did this once, we did it a hundred times through the whole ordeal.  As we rolled to port and back to starboard, anything and everything in the boat that wasn't secured was tossed about.

     At 5;30 pm I hailed the tow vessel, the captain said he was on his way and would be there in 15 minutes.  While I had the captain on the radio I confirmed with him our GPS location.  Shortly thereafter, the tow captain called to tell us he could see us off of his starboard bow.  Again, I confirmed our current "adrift" GPS location.  10 minutes later I hailed the captain to ask for his location, he replied with his GPS location.  When I checked his location against our location on the chart he was 2 miles due south of us and traveling west!  I once again hailed the tow captain and asked him to repeat back to me my GPS location, which he did correctly.  How did the captain end up in the wrong location and traveling in the wrong direction is still a mystery to me as I write this.  About 6 pm, I finally spotted a very small boat heading our way.  I quickly hailed the captain to confirm it was the tow boat heading in our direction.  Once he confirmed it was his boat coming to rescue us, I asked the captain about his equipment and tow line.  The tow captain confirmed he had a 26 foot Mako with two 225 Yamahas and about 80 feet of line.  When he arrived on scene I was in total shock.  The boat was a 1980 vintage something sport fishing boat, you know the kind your grandfather took fishing when you went to the ol' farm pond.  The tow line was three lines tied together, each of a different length and diameter.  Not the warm fuzzy felling your hoping for.  Within a short time we were being towed back to Nassau at 4.5 knots - not bad. Around 7pm the tow line broke lose from the tow vessel but the first mate quickly made repairs and we were underway again.  Around 7:30pm I noticed one of the twin outboards had stopped running!  The only thing left for tow vessel to do was sink.

      For the next 3 1/2 hours, as we were being towed on the open sea with a one engine tow vessel, we were hit from every possible angle by the sea.  At times we could see the tow boat, on top of a wave, well over the top of our bow pulpit.  In the daytime you can see the waves coming and prepare yourself, but at night it's like being blindsided with a sucker punch.  

      By 10 pm we were entering the Nassau harbor, and the sea was still getting in its last punches.  As we entered the turning basin. the area used by the XXXL cruise ships to turn around, the captain hailed us and informed us he was taking us over to the south side of the basin where he instructed us to drop our anchor because his tow vessel was running out of fuel!  What!  After dropping anchor at 10:30 pm, Sharon and I were able to able to grab something to eat.  It was only 15 hours since we ate breakfast.  For the next 2 hours, and although we were in relatively calm waters,  we were still on edge for that next wave to come out of no where.  Finally at 12:30 am, the tow captain returned, and we continued with the tow.  At 1 am, as planned, we changed over from a line tow to a hip tow.  It's called a hip tow because the tow vessel comes along side the disabled vessel and is attached with line to the disabled vessel.  With the hip tow, the captain informed us we have only one chance to make it into the slip he had reserved for us.  I didn't bother to ask the tow captain what would happen if we missed it on the first try.  I guess I didn't want to know.    At 1:30 am Wednesday morning, 12 hours after it all began, Big Run, only slightly battered and bruised, was safely secured to the dock.  The crew, well let's just say it was another adventure right out Hell's Playbook, the game winning edition.