Wandering on

As I peck out these words, Kintala is anchored at Manjack Cay. It was three days of sailing to get here. The first, from West End to Great Sale, was a straight up motor. The main went aloft mostly for show. The little zephyrs were just enough to keep some shape in the sail, maybe shaving 10 minutes off the total transit time. We anchored an hour after dark (not Deb's favorite thing, that), south of a small gaggle of boats that had departed West End while we waited on a higher tide to get through Indian Cut.

The next day it was on to Fox Town. The zephyrs had grown into solid winds in the 10 to 18 knot range to start the day. Sailing off the anchor was easy and fun with the breeze aft of our north bound heading to get around the end of Great Sail. Turning the corner toward Fox Town, however, had the winds directly out of the direction we needed to go. So we tacked hard and sailed close. It was a good day of work, though we put in 41.5 nm to cover the 17 or so as-the-crow-flies miles. Still, my guess was it was nearly as fast a way to go as asking the Beast to pound directly into the wind and the waves. We would have barely made 4 knots, as opposed to the near 7 Kintala managed with her sails up. For the record, we flew the jib and staysail to get up as tight on the wind as we could, while the main was held to two reefs, since the wind over the deck was in the high 20s for much of the day. Hard on the wind and bashing away...Yee-Haw!

The original plan was to purchase phone sim cards once in Fox Town. But it was Sunday, and the weather forecast suggested that Fox Town was not the place to be in the next couple of days. Instead of heading into town to knock on the closed BTC office door, it seemed a good idea to take advantage of the now west winds and make sail to Manjack. We knew there was rain on the way, riding the edge of a small cold front but, having taken the worst beating of our cruising life in Fox Town, getting someplace better protected was a siren call that could not be ignored.

After clearing the anchorage, we flew just the jib, and really flew. The GPS had us at near eight knots, Kintala hissing happily along in the quartering seas, the wind vane working well. The wind, however, kept building. After a couple of hours the wind vane just couldn't react fast enough to hold our point of sail. Taking the helm was a bit of a workout until we made the bend that masked some of the wind behind Abaco Island. By that time the small cold front was closing in, and didn't look so small. When the thunder started to roll we traded speed for expediency, pulling in the jib, flying the staysail, and still making 5 knots. Even though we were off the wind, wind over the deck was still in the mid 30s. Yee-Haw!

With the thunder close and the rain curtain gaining rapidly, we woke the Beast and rolled in everything. Real sailors sail through storms, but I keep getting caught with my pants down and too much sail up. This time the caution was unnecessary. The front rolled over us with little ado and a bit of heavy rain. Things settled a little and we tossed the jib back out, once again doing close to 7 knots in the following seas. Yee-Haw!

Ah, but this little front was more like two fronts, neither one all that little. A second rampart of clouds started to build and, sure enough, I got caught with my pants down and too much sail up. Not near the disaster as the jammed roller in Biscayne Bay, but the jib flogged itself into some kind of overwrap part way up the stay and jammed, no more in, no more out. It looked ugly, but it was good enough. There wasn't anything I could do about it anyway, not on the pitching and rolling deck. Later, new friends we have been tag boating with since West End pulled in to anchor near-by. He asked what had happened to our jib. (It really did look ugly.) He is a retired pilot as well, so I answered that our Deck Monkey needs some recurrent training.

We hope to hang out here for a couple of days. Since we have been in the Islands the weather has been iffy, at best. Several of the boats coming into West End while we were there really took a beating getting across the Gulf Stream. One had its Bimini shredded in a storm. Others came in with seriously rattled crews, all glad to be in one piece and on a dock. One boat left West End heading for the States and was literally driven back by the waves and winds, making a night run through the narrow and breaker filled inlet to find the safety of the harbor. Not something I would have cared to do. Nearly all of us sat in West End until last Friday, waiting for some kind of reasonable weather to keep going.  (The exception was a 100+ foot mega yacht that headed out through the breakers without a care in the world. Even then, an even bigger yacht stayed put, leaving with the rest of us a day later.)

Forecasts now suggest Wednesday as the day to be tucked in someplace, and we hope to be in Green Turtle then. The timing will work for us. There is a BTC office that we might find open, we can top the water tanks, and pick up a little food.

Life in the Islands.

West End Bahamas

West End Bahamas

West End Bahamas

West End Bahamas

West End Bahamas

West End Bahamas

West End Bahamas

Much better view out the galley port!

The Beast gets a break …

Crab Cay anchorage on Little Abaco Island

Kintala has pointed her bow westward and is starting the trek back toward the US of A. The disappointment of having to leave the Islands after barely a month is balanced by those we are sailing toward. Family awaits in Annapolis and Pittsburgh. Then there are Daughters (3), Son-in-Laws (2), and grand kids (soon to be 9) in Indianapolis and St. Louis. There is a chance to sell the condo, (hopefully a good chance) and to see some old friends at Carlyle as well as St. Louis.


We left Green Turtle and sailed back to Nunjack, spending four nights in our new favorite place. Then left Nunjack for Crab, spending two night in one of our favorite places from last year. From Crab we headed for Fox Town to do some provisioning in another of our favorite places. (Can you tell we like this part of the world?) That last leg was on Tuesday.

Did I mention light wind?

Even with the pole up the sail was challenged

We managed to sail off of the anchor to start the day, then on to the anchor to finish the day; thus giving the WesterBeast a break. Not a big deal in the sailing world, but a "no engine day" was a first for us on Kintala in water more open than Carlyle Lake. The wind was very light which required patience, nursing the most we could out of the sails, and keeping track of the arrival time to make sure we were in by nightfall. It was the second time in Fox Town and the approach is pretty open and easy. But there are shallow spots and rocks to avoid and the overcast sky would make, once the sun disappeared, for a dark hard to describe to city dwellers. We would have woken up the Beast rather than try the approach at night, but managed enough speed to arrive in the late afternoon.

By then the wind had picked up a little and we were doing four knots for the first time since leaving Crab. Getting into the cove brought us up ever more tightly on the wind, a perfect setup. We rolled in a bit of the head sail, than a bit more, than a bit more. Deb picked her spot and spun Kintala the rest of the way up into the wind. I rolled in the last of the jib then took a leisurely stroll up the deck. Just as the boat's forward speed bled away to nothing the Mantus splashed and grabbed hold of the bottom. The wind provided enough push to set the hook, and the day was done.

Sunset reward after a perfect day.

It was a normal day of sailing and a small accomplishment, but it gave us a sense that we are getting better at this. Still, we have a thousand nautical miles to go, across the Stream, up the East Coast, and through the Chesapeake, to get where we need to be. Again, not such a big deal in the world of cruising, a thousand boats will be doing the same thing in the next couple of months. But still a big enough deal to us to make patience and careful planning watch-words to keep close until we reach Oak Harbor.

Patience and careful planning are not new, particularly to someone who spent a career in aviation. But in my land life patience and careful planning could take a back seat once the front door was closed upon arriving home. Unless a tornado came by the house wasn't likely to go anywhere. The winds could blow, the rain and snow could fall, but inside all was safe and secure. The water “tanks” were always full, there was milk in the 'fridge and, if not, the store was only two blocks away. Unlike Island stores, US stores always have milk, and meat, and fresh fruit and veggies. The big screen TV always had ready access to a fast Internet connection. Good for entertainment but even better for checking weather. (Not the Big Screen but the Internet connection.)

The companionway on Kintala isn't anything like the front door of the house. That isn't to say we never feel safe and secure “out here”. With the Mantus well set in the placid and clear water of a protected yet sparsely populated anchorage, cold one in hand as the sun sets on a perfect day, it is hard to feel any more safe and secure. There is no TV blaring the latest bad news, no sirens in the streets or helicopters hunting overhead. Sometimes after the sun goes down, particularly on a clear night with the sky ablaze, it is so quiet that the stars themselves seem to be whispering. (Which, I will admit, takes a little getting used to.)

Yet, even then, there is a little bit of guard left up. If you don't think so, make a loud noise that can't instantly be identified, then watch how fast the cold drink gets set aside and the crew jumps to.

After much debate it was decided that, rather than racing an impending cold front to Great Sale this morning, a slightly better choice would be to wait it out here in Fox Town. Kintala is going to be pretty exposed to the west winds the rest of today and most of tonight, so it remains to be seen if it was a good call or no. Green Turtle is the only really protected spot in this part of the Abacos, but is too far away and in the wrong direction to be of any use to us for the upcoming weather. Buy a ticket, take the ride.

The next few stops will(?) be Great Sale, Mangrove, West End, and the US, maybe Fernandina Beach off the St. Mary's Entrance. At roughly 275nm, West End to Fernandina would be the longest passage we have made, so we are still thinking about it. Another one of those “not a big deal in the cruising world...but”, and the Beast will likely have to get up for at least part of that one.

More Bahamian water pictures, these of the faint ripples on nearly flat water...

Looks a bit like a Windows 7 wallpaper, no?

 

Sailing Bucket

...as in Bucket List. A lot of sailors have bucket lists. I guess it comes with the territory. Selling off everything and going cruising is, after all, a big bucket list item itself. Most sailors' bucket lists are places they want to sail, distances they want to cover, etc. Mine? Well...so I confess, I'm a sailing geek. My bucket list is slightly different. It consists of sailing skills I want to master.

The Crab Cay Anchorage

One of the skills I have always wanted to perform seamlessly is sailing on and off the anchor. I've watched a good many people sail off the anchor and Tim and I got that pretty much down pat while we were still sailing on the lake. Now, before you go on thinking that I'm saying I've mastered all the sailing skills on my bucket list, I haven't. But I've at least tackled them and am continuing to attempt to master them. All except one. Sailing onto the anchor was something that I was always too afraid to even try. The "what-ifs" drilled fear into my head and kept me from tackling this last major item on my bucket list.

A week ago we were anchored in the Manjack / Crab anchorage north of Green Turtle and this sailboat came screaming in to the anchorage under jib alone, swept between us and the boat next to us, carried on well in to the cove, spun up and the crew kicked the anchor overboard while the jib luffed. A few seconds later the jib was rolled up, and the wind was pushing the boat back on it to set it. Tim looked over at me and said, "That guy's my hero." Every day the niggling thought poked its way into my consciousness. Wanna try it. Gotta try it.

After a couple days at Green Turtle we returned to the same anchorage and decided to try to anchor under sail, but outside the anchorage where there were no boats to crash into, just to practice. There really wasn't enough wind to pull it off, but we were encouraged. We motored in to the anchorage and the thought continued to pester.

Today we sailed in some perfectly brisk breeze under the genoa alone, heading to the other Crab Cay anchorage (If you ever sail in the Bahamas you'll quickly learn that there are hundreds of Crab Cays). The wind was perfect to tack around Angelfish Point and into the anchorage, all under sail. When we tacked we rolled in the big genoa and rolled out the staysail to slow the speed a bit. At 3.5 knots we sailed straight into the anchorage, turned Kintala's nose up into the wind, and Tim kicked the anchor off the bow. While Tim tended to the very slow release of chain and some very careful snubbing of the rode with the clutch, I rolled in the staysail and within a few minutes the Mantus was set pretty as you please. I was grinning like a toddler with an double-decker ice cream cone.

Next? Sailing off the anchor, sailing all day, sailing on to the anchor, no Westerbeast required. Stay tuned...

A Schucker 436 motor sailor we crossed paths with several times.

Not sure of the make of this one. Beautiful boat though!

A Catalina 42 that we chatted with on the radio.

Green Turtle Picture Post

A collection of pictures from Green Turtle Cay, Donnie's Docks, and the Manjack / Crab Cay anchorage.

A pirate ship anchored in Black Sound next to Donnie's Docks and there was a guy dressed up as a pirate on it. Our grandsons would have gone simply bonkers over this.

Black Sound  in Green Turtle from Donnie's Docks

This jelly fish floated by our boat. Not sure what type it is because it's not in my nature book.

The azaleas in New Plymouth at Green Turtle Cay are amazing.

An interesting cat ketch we saw in the harbour at New Plymouth on Green Turtle

This was taken through 3 feet of water from the surface. It's impossible to describe how clear the water is here.

There was no wind on our way out of Green Turtle. This is 13 feet deep water.

There are hundreds of catamarans everywhere down here.

Can't see the anchor in this picture? Yeah. That's why we love our Mantus anchor.

We took a dinghy exploration trip up a creek that runs between Manjack and Crab Cays. We were tol there were a bunch of green turtles up there and we were not disappointed. We saw over a dozen of them, but they moved too fast to catch on film. There is one hiding in one of these pictures if you can find him.

We motored all the way to the end of the creek in the mangroves and then drifted back with oars in the quiet.

At the very end there was this small pond with a 43 foot sailboat. It must be a centerboard with shallow draft because the creek is less than 3 feet deep even at high tide in some places.

And the weirdest thing to ever find on a beach award goes to...the plastic piggy bank.

Not sure what these are either. I need a new guidebook!

Kintala at anchor in Manjack / Crab

This bird landed about 5 feet from Tim. He was very curious. Any takers on the type?

The water here still looks like modern art to me. This is clumps of sea grass through 2 feet of rippling water