Bahamas Crazy

     Twenty six hours and thirty minutes.  Non-stop.  That's how long it took us to exit the Bahamas and back to Florida. Forget about the previous 10 days while the transmission was being repaired.  Our departure was Saturday at 7a.m.  This time we left Nassau with a buddy boat, M/V Esperanza.  Just in case.  The buddy boat scenario was beneficial for both boats, Big Run had the transmissions issues, the other boat also had mechanical issues while in the Bahamas.  They had their repairs done in Highbourne Cay and traveled to Nassau before getting held up waiting for a weather window.  By Saturday mid-afternoon, both boats had crossed the Tongue of the Ocean to the waypoint, NW Channel.  Here, we parted company as the other boat went onto Bimini.  We on the other hand made our way to Mackie Shoal, also on the Great Bahama Bank.  By 11:30p.m. we were at our last waypoint in the Bahamas, Hens and Chickens.  From there, we made the final push across the Straits of Florida to Palm Beach on Lake Worth.  Twenty six hours and thirty minutes.  At times the seas were calm, and there were times the sea reminded us she was in charge.  There were two occasions the sea was a "little" bumpy, first, they were a beamy sea for awhile when we left Nassau, and the second time was around 3 a.m. as we crossed the straits and it continued to be bumpy until we entered Lake Worth Inlet on Sunday at 9 a.m..  The slow moving cold front that was to make its slow trek across Florida on Sunday afternoon arrived Sunday morning bring stout winds over the seas from the SW.  So much for weather predictions.  Twenty six hours and thirty minutes.  All the time we were making the crossing, one million different things ran through my mind.  The transmission.  The engine.  The transmission.  The navigation computer.  The transmission.  Prior to our departure, I had gone over most of the systems.  I replaced the raw water impeller for the engine because it was missing 2 vanes.  I load tested the transmission one more time for fifteen minutes while we were in the slip.  I replaced a fuel filter for the fuel polishing system because it seemed like a good idea.  Many things were checked and double checked.  Twenty six hours and thirty minutes.  And now we're counting the hours and minutes until we return.  Yes, we're Bahamas crazy!

The Event at Mackie Shoal

I Don't Dare Think Of It

     As early as Wednesday morning, I had my suspicions as to the cause of our misfortune at sea on Tuesday.  Preliminary inspections revealed that the oil cooler for the transmission had ruptured internally and forced large quantities of sea water into the transmission thereby displacing the oil out of the transmission.  

     Today, a local boat services company sent over two mechanics to remove the transmission so that it could be inspected back at their shop.  Albert, the shop owner claims he has repair parts on the shelf for the Borg-Warner Velvet Drive transmission used in Big Run.  I spoke with Albert this afternoon, and he will inspect the transmission tomorrow, which was already disassembled and cleaned by his crew for him.

     I have already starting do research on suppliers of transmissions and parts in Florida just in case we need to have one or the other shipped into Nassau for us.  Rick on M/V Broulee has stepped up to the plate and furnished us with another reliable and dependable contact he has used in the past.  Add another feather to Rick's cap! Where would we be without Rick, I don't dare think of it.

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.

Nobody Knows

     The first three days of the "blow" was very close to the last Saturday's predictions, although the winds did let up a little on Wednesday.   Yes, the weather forecasters were right and a blind pig will sooner or later find an acorn!  The forecast from three days ago for the next three days (T-F-S) from today have changed to the point that we are considering a major move with the boat.  Now, the question is will the prediction for the next three days hold as forecasted today, Wednesday?  Our plan,  is to leave on Friday for Highborne Cay in the northern Exumas.  In preparation for Fridays departure, we have once again moved the boat back over to Black Point Settlement.  Will we ever leave here - stayed tuned.  Here, we will join up with Dave and Joan onboard M/V Joda,  a beautiful 1994 Kadey-Krogen Whaleback, for our migration north.  Joda will part company from us at Highborne on Saturday as they continue onto Spanish Wells and their adventure to the  Abacos. and we will travel to Nassau, Bahamas  This is where have made a major change to our cruising itinerary.  After a long discussion with Rick and Deb on our buddy boat, M/V Broulee, and this was a mutual agreement, we have decided to return to the United States and forgo our previously planned trip through the Abacos.  Remember, plans in Jello?  So after a brief visit, or not, to Nassau and the casinos we will be heading west for Florida.  The run through the Abacos has been postponed until a more favorable time frame.  Looking forward and being able to concentrate on the big picture, and this was probably a wise decision, we should be able to reunite with family and friends, for a brief time, in Pennsylvania and firm up our trip to New England with our buddy boat.  Or, that  is what I think we're doing.  It appears our travel plans are as predictable as the weather, nobody knows!  

I Hope They're Wrong

     The latest cold front to swing down from the United States is predicted to be a very strong and lasting "blow" here in the Bahamas.  On Sunday, the winds are predicted to be from the south at 17 mph at 7am.  By 7 pm the winds are to taper off to 8 mph from the west.  But then the fun starts.  At 10 pm Sunday evening, the winds are to have clocked around to the NE and jumped up to 24 mph sustained and build on through Monday evening to 29 mph sustained.  Tuesday predictions are for the lower 30's (mph) sustained and to continue at 30+ mph as the winds clock to the east.  Then on Thursday the winds are to drop back into the upper 20's.  The current predictions go out to next Saturday where the winds will be in the lower 20's and still from the east.  It appears, by the predictions, that the cold front will stall and become a trough.  The only good thing about the current weather predictions is that those predictions for beyond 3 days from now can be thrown out the window because they really don't know what is going to happen.  Well, at least I hope they're wrong.

Island Time

    It's Island Time Mon!  This is a phrase you’ll hear a lot in the Bahamas.  I guess when you get to any of the islands from the Bahamas down through the Caribbean you’ll hear it a lot.  So what does it mean?  When we first got to the Bahamas last year it generally meant to chill out or slow down.  Nothing happens at break neck speed or on a timely manner here on the outer islands.  But as we spend more time in the Bahamas, it has grown to mean a lot of things and we understand it and love it..

     Take for example, some businesses close for lunch.  So what’s the big deal about that?  Some close for 2 hours over lunch.  And what if you try to hail a local establishment on the VHF radio.  Don’t try too early in the morning or too late in the afternoon.  Or, when you get to the local business you may have to wait for the owner to show up from who knows where.  Speaking of communication, that VHF radio on your boat, take care of it.  It’s one of the main sources of communications.  Telephone and internet, although improving, leave a lot to be desired especially when you think about those faster than the speed of light internet connections you left behind.     What if you're working on a project or emergency repairs on your boat, well good luck with that.  If the material or spares are not already in your boat's inventory, the materials and parts will probably have to be special ordered 95% of the time, and they’ll be arriving on the mail boat soon.  Oh yea, the mail boat.  It runs on “schedule” 3 weeks out of the month.  The Bahamian government cut back on fuel subsidies, and the mail boats dropped one delivery date each month.  And if there’s a blow coming through, it’ll  delay the mail boat by a day or two, or three…..  What about your 401k or your portfolio?  Better take care of that before you leave civilization.  Having some medical issues?  If the adjacent island to your anchorage has a clinic, the nurse at the clinic, if she’s not on her 2 hour lunch break,  can fix you up most of the time.  But if it requires a doctor or a dentist, crank up those diesel engines on your boat and start plotting a course to one of the larger communities.  Do you enjoy reading the newspaper with a cup of joe?  No paper boys down here, and bring your own coffee.  Starbucks hasn’t discovered the Bahamas!  So you think you’ll catch that ball game tonight?  Unless you have satellite television on your boat, you’ll have to go to one of the local restaurants or watering holes on the larger out islands for the game if the establishment is open for happy hour or stays open that late.  Speaking of watching that game on the boat if your so fortunate, I’m sure you’ll want to drink a cold brewski.  You’ll probably need to bring a couple of cases, make that many cases for on the boat.  And if you get the munchies, better bring a couple bags of your favorite chips and salsa.  No mini-market to run to at 9 pm.  Same with grocery shopping.  Plan ahead and take advantage of every opportunity to grab that produce on Wednesday for Saturday night’s salad. 

     Have you figured out what island time is?  Island time is a way of life.  And the people of the islands are so very happy because they don’t have all the stress and worries that the rest of the civilized world has thrust upon itself.   The only thing that is reliable and dependable to the Bahamians is the sun, that it rises and sets every day.  And the most important thing to the Bahamians is family.   So, the next time someone says to you that you’re on Island Time, take a swig of your Kalik, look them square in the eye and proudly say “Yeah Mon…… Island Time!”.

Cold Kaliks

     Once again we are back at Black Point Settlement.  Not at Plain Bay, our foavorite anchorage, which is just around the point to the south of Black Point and only a 30 minute ride from Black Point to Plain Bay.  Yesterday morning, we found our anchorage at Pipe Cay getting a little lumpy from a mild southerly breeze, and being too far north and too early to continue onto Nassau we decided to go south.  Remember, we're on the jello plan.  Black Point, just 15 miles to the south was an ideal choice - fresh produce and wifi.  We pulled anchor at 10am and at 1pm the anchor splashed once again in Black Point Harbor.  As we had followed the mail boat into the harbour, the government dock was very busy including the adjacent dinghy dock.  So we waited for the mail boat to leave and made our run into Adderly's grocery store where we found lettuce, romaine, green peppers, tomatoes, eggs, butter and flour.

      After we returned to the boat, I left the engine on the dinghy idle, and it stalled.  Thankfully, the dinghy was tied up to the mothership for I tried numerous times to pull start the motor, no turn of the key for electric start on this model, but was unable to get the motor to start.  So I decided to wait until the next day when the waters were a little more calm in the harbour to diagnose the outboard.  Shortly after my encounter with the outboard, Sharon said she could drink a Kalik (Bahamian Beer).  I, on the other hand, went to the pilothouse to do some internet work.  After about an hour, the seed planted by Sharon about a Kalik started to grow as the pilothouse was like a greenhouse, very warm.  Back to the dinghy and diagnosing the motor.  I had determined that because the fuel tank was low and we had towed the dinghy to Black point, we had lost the fuel siphon and a slug of air got into the fuel line.  So, after about 20 pulls on the motor and some other tricks from up my sleeve, I got the outboard running.  Quickly, Sharon threw on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt over her bathing suit and I, still smelling like gasoline, made our way to Scorpios bar for happy hour.  Once there, we were quickly reunited with Doug and Jean of the Sand Castle and shortly thereafter their neighbors, Frank and Peg.  A grand time was had by all. Yes, we got our cold Kaliks!

  

We're Hooked

     So much for the hidey hole for the last blow that came through the Exumas!  We anchored in an anchorage we used last year, between the Majors, just for the latest cold front to pass through.  The anchorage, it's just north of Staniel Cay between Big Major Spot and Little Major Spot.  Both Spots are Cays (islands).  We arrived on Thursday and anchored just south of  between the Majors.  Then on Friday, we moved up to between the Majors.  The blow never developed like the previous one. Was King Neptune watching over us?  The anchorage, between the Majors,  tormented us with surge on the beam, which causes the boat to get a little rolly from side to side as the seas surged in through Big Rock Cut.  Tuesday morning, bright and early, and without prompting or hesitation, we departed at 6:45a.m. for an anchorage recommended by our very good friend, Rick on M/V Broulee.

      Our arrival at Pipe Cay was late in the morning but allowed us time to go explore the old Decca Navigation Station.  Not much to see but a beautiful harbor protected from all but the NW.  We need to explore the harbor some more to see if we can use it in a pinch as a hidey hole.  It'll take some creative anchoring and some long lines, but I think we're up to tthe challenge.

      Wednesday, was an absolutely perfect day for snorkeling, read magical.  The winds were almost gone.  The sky was cloudless, and we stumbled on the best snorkeling we have done so far.  Our timing was impeccable.  We left Big Run just before slack tide.  We did some preliminary snorkeling at the Decca Harbour but quickly left for a small unnamed cay to the west of the anchorage where the snorkeling left us speechless.  Sorry, no pictures.  Note - If someone would like to donate an underwater camera......I guess I'll have better luck asking Santa Claus for one.  Our good fortune did not stop with our first location.  We then dinghy'd over to the SW corner of Pipe Cay and discovered yet another bonanza of tropical fish, coral and sea fans.  Next stop when we get back to civilization,  Nassau, we'll get more snorkeling gear.  We're hooked.

Pipe Cay Anchorage

Pipe Cay Sunset

Hidey Hole

     Yesterday afternoon, after a few hours of beach combing, Sharon and I returned to the boat and within a matter of minutes decided it was time to move on.  We were at Plain Bay, our favorite Bahamian anchorage for the second time this season.  When you add the time from our first visit with the time of this last visit it totals 45 days.  Guess we do like that anchorage.  One of the things that has prompted us to move north is the next cold front swinging in from Florida.  If you read our last blog entry, Hell's Playbook, you'll understand part of our motivation to move onto, hopefully, a better protected anchorage.  Also, our trek north will be slow but with a purpose.  We are hoping to plan our arrival in Nassau with the expiration of our cruising permit.  While in Nassau we hope to get at least a 60 day extension.  Then if the weather cooperates, we will head north to the Abacos and hopefully connect with our buddy boat from last year, Broulee, where a new adventure will start in the Northern Bahamas.  But for right now, we have to concern ourselves with this next cold front and find a hidey hole.

Hell's Playbook

      Quite often you’ll hear us speaking about the weather and how moving the boat from one location to another is directly related to the weather.  The weather also plays a major factor while at anchor.  Especially if you want a good night’s sleep.  Every once in a while in the Bahamas a “cold front” will move in from Florida slicing its way across the islands.  Saturday was no different.

       Earlier in the week we started hearing reports of a cold front approaching and how the winds would clock around.  When the weather gurus speak of winds clocking around, as in this case, the winds will be from the NE then move to an E or SE direction.  The winds may continue to clock around to the S and to the SW, then onto the W and NW.  So, winds clocking around, no big deal until you start talking wind speed.  Now you have every cruiser’s attention.  For this particular cold front, the days leading up to the front were supposed to be calm.  Take for example Thursday’s forecast was  for E 5-7 knots building to 7-10 knots and Friday’s forecast was E 6-11 knots.  The weather report on Thursday also included Saturdays forecast of SW 8-10 knots clocking WNW 10-14 knots and then in the evening NNW 9-13 knots. Thursday lived up to its predictions.  On Friday, the winds also came as predicted. The Saturday forecast as given on Friday was SW 10-14 knots clocking WNW 9-12 and continuing to clock around NNW at 10-14 knots.   Yes, I know, a lot of numbers being thrown at you all at once.  Believe me, the forecast for Saturday never changed dramatically, we keep a log of the weather (wind & direction)  predictions.

        Now, here is what happened as I think of how I lived through it.  The forecast didn’t change but mother nature changed her mind, and she was very angry.  It all started around 3am Saturday morning with the boat hobby horsing (pitching – bow rising up and down) as the winds were blowing out of the SW at 15 knots.  15 knots isn’t bad except for the fetch.  The distance from the nearest land mass to our west, Andros (Bahamas) was too far away to offer any wind break, about 50 miles too far away.  This allowed the wind to really whip up the waves, as in 1-3 feet with 2-4 footers added in for good measure.  As the day dragged on the winds picked even more.  Now we are talking 15-20 knots  and gusting much more.  Wait, that’s not what the weather reports were predicting.  The actually weather conditions were twice as bad as forecast.  Our buddy boat, Short Walk,  in the anchorage  with us, gave us a wind conditions report late Saturday afternoon – 21 knots gusting to 27 knots.  Now we are dealing with waves in the anchorage of 2-4 feet with 3-5 footers to kick your ass!   

        Our day consisted of lying down in berths for most of the day.  It was too far dangerous to move about the boat.  At times, from the master suite, in the bow of the boat, I could look out to the stern and see the dinghy above the transom because the bow of Big Run was rising that far out of the water, lowering the stern.  The dinghy was on the crest of a different wave above the transom, all simultaneously.   The top of our transom is 4 feet plus above the waterline.  Let’s not forget the waves that attacked from the sides causing the boat to violently roll from side to side. It’s called a confused sea!  In a nutshell, the boat was pitching up and down and rolling from side to side at the same time.  When I did venture up to the pilothouse, I could see that we were very close to burying the bow’s pulpit in the waves as the boat pitched.  On a normal day the pulpit is 8 feet above the water.  

      Later in the evening as the winds clocked to the NW and we were protected by land mass, the boat turned into the wind with a NW heading.  And what about the waves rolling in from the west because of the westerly winds that day?  Yes, they were still rolling in from the west that evening as the  boat pointed north, and Big Run rolled side to side through the night.  Sometimes the rolls were  very abrupt, 30 degrees roll from one side to 30 degree roll to the other side. That’s a 60 degree arc! 

      The ordeal lasted about 24 hours.  This was worse than any crossing we have ever done, and the worse night on the hook we have ever had.  We survived this ordeal only because we are dedicated to this lifestyle of being full time cruisers.

      This was not a angry mother nature, this was a page from hell’s playbook.

This is S/V Short Walk on the hook being tossed during the blow.