Day 83-85

Our first morning in the Bahamas started late. Pete and I had a little sleep to catch up on after our 24 hour push from Ft. Lauderdale. Once awake though, our day began with gusto. Pete whipped up some breakfast while I poured over the charts and read up on the route ahead in our cruising guides. Then we both retired to the cockpit, sated and lethargic, to stare at nothing and enjoy the tropical weather. Finally I roused myself enough to topple over the stern rail into the dinghy and head ashore to track down a weather forecast for the next few days.

No one I could find onshore was able to help me, but Pete and I found some friendly French Canadians on a nearby sloop who invited us aboard and let us copy down the forecast. Fair weather for the rest of the day and the next but growing progressively worse through the remainder of the week. With three friends meeting us in three days in Nassau, if we wanted to make the rendezvous we'd have to get a move on to stay ahead of the weather. We announced that we would be departing directly. With a look of surprise, the Canadians bid us farewell.


Lovely sailing east from the Biminis, crossing the great Bahama Bank, headed for the Berry Islands. The weather, however, reached us much sooner than we expected. A cold front approached, passed, and brought the rain. Caught out in the open, we sailed on. Pete at the helm, me offering moral support from the safety of the cabin.




That night we anchored on the Bahama Bank, out of sight of land or lights. All alone on the wide, wide sea. The waves weren't very big but, like the Gulfstream, were choppy from the shifting winds and the boat rolled heavily. I slept poorly.

The next day we awoke to heavier seas and foul winds, weighed anchor and started motoring. It was a full day of smashing our way through waves and wind at three miles per hour, wearing down the boat, wearing down our fuel reserves, wearing down ourselves, and then we dropped anchor with considerably less excitement for another night on the bank. The sustained high winds through the day had whipped up large waves and this night was much rougher.

The snubber I attached to absorb the shock of Strolla bucking against her anchor chain chaffed through and parted, twice. Each time, awoken by the change in the boats rocking, I made my way forward up the wet, dark deck with my headlamp to kneel at the bow and tie on a new one. The bow was plunging from just underwater to ten feet in the air and back with each passing wave, the unhindered chain snapping taught in its guide and jerking at the deck cleat with sudden, sharp jolts. I am grateful to have kept all my digits.

We were up with the sun to begin our third day crossing the Bahama Bank. Around noon, with the southern islands of the Berry Archipelago in sight, we changed plans. The wind, out of the east now, was expected to shift to the south the next day, right when our course shifted from east to south as well to take us in to Nassau. Better to turn south today and ride out the east winds on a beam reach. We could spend the night in Morgan's Bluff on Andros Island and then when the wind shifted, have another beam reach east into Nassau.

It was a relief to turn off the wind and begin sailing, but only briefly. Screaming along with a double reef in the mainsail, our average speed over four hours of sailing was 7.6 knots. Strolla stayed well heeled over on her starboard edge, broadside to the swells, dipping and weaving in a rhythmic dance with the waves. Pete and I were perched on the windward rail in our rubber slickers, with a steely grip on the tiller and a steely eye on the sea.

The east side of Andros island was one of the nastier lee shores I'd sailed along. shoals and mangrove swamps gave way to jagged coral cliffs on which the rolling waves beat themselves to frothy white. Surprisingly, the entrance into Morgan's Bluff was wide and well marked and not nearly as hairy as I was preparing myself for. All of the drinking water used by the city of Nassau is brought by tankers that come out of this harbor so it makes sense that it is easily navigated.

We were the only boat in the harbor, although there was an inner harbor called Regatta Park that had a few more. Free water, bar right on the harbor edge with a dance party that night, a couple of derelict fishing trawlers to scavenge for parts, coral caves and spray swept cliffs to clamber over and explore. It ended up being a fun stopover.

A family come over from Palm Beach on a fishing trip, the only other boaters we could find in town, told us that the wind the next day would be out of the south. This was what Pete and I had expected and the reason we'd come to Andros Island in the first place. With a south wind we'd be able to sail east to Nassau all day on a broad reach, the fastest point of sail.

The father of the family, doughy, bleary eyed, and already weaving in place at five in the evening, couldn't tell us anything more about wind speed or wave height and direction. Neither could any of the locals we asked. We'd have to poke our heads out of the harbor the next morning and check for ourselves.