Exumas

The weatherman calls for; garbage weather.

We left Hawksbill Cay to try to find anchorage that would better accommodate the southern winds we’d been having. We spent our last couple nights at Hawksbill in a nearly unbearable rolling.

We made it to the southern tip of Warderick, only to find that we still weren’t sheltered from the swell. Luckily, a second anchorage right around the corner on the same island had some mooring balls available. The inside mooring field in Warderick Wells is like something out of a dream. Swirls of blues and sands spiraling in the middle of a nearly 360 degree sheltered cove.

Once again, we had found that half our time there was dealing with rain and overcast. We spent as much time as we could in the water, but not as much as we would have hoped.

We finally got a little batch of calmer seas, and decided to push on to Staniel Cay. This is the island where the old James Bond 007 movie, Thunderball, was partially filmed (Sean Connery).  It’s an amazing grotto; a cave that has, overtime, had holes worn through the ceiling of the rock to allow beams of sunlight to pierce through. This enables moss to grow on the walls, and coral to grow in the water. Long viney roots dangle from the ceiling. It feels like something more out of India Jones than James Bond.  Large schools of fish hang out inside, adding blues, yellows, pinks, purples and greens to the already impressive show. To enter, you have to dive below to find the entrance to the cave – swimming through an underground hole towards the light.

Staniel Cay Yacht Club dock houses dozens of Nurse sharks and Sting rays. They’re everywhere. The Nurse sharks range in colors from black to gun-metal grey to red. They were gorgeous!

We anchored on the island just north of Staniel, called Big Major. This is home to domesticated pigs (and goats and chickens) that freely roam the island. The pigs spend their time lounging on the beach and swimming in the ocean. They eagerly await handouts from visitors, often swimming out to your approaching dinghy hoping to be the first for the meal.

We managed to cram all this into a small period, because, once again we were haunted with bad weather. We had overcast and rain all week. We had heard that a strong system would be pushing its way towards us, so we had intended on leaving to safer harbors. We re-provisioned of fuel and water, food and got the boat set. We desperately wanted some fresh baked bread. The only place in Staniel Cay to get any bread was at a little yellow house in the middle of town that you could place an order with.

This was our blessing and curse. We placed an order for two loaves, finding out that it wouldn’t be ready until later that day, so our plans to leave would have to wait until first thing the next morning. No big deal, we thought. We had still given ourselves several days grace before the storm was supposed to roll in.

That evening, we watched the sky darken from our anchorage which was terribly exposed to the south. We tucked the boat up as best we could, then called it a night. Sometime shortly after we fell asleep, the wind picked up to about 35-40 knots. Roaring outside, we scooped up a few more odds and ends from the cockpit we didn’t want to lose. That’s when Dave noticed the 55’ double-decker ‘motor yacht’ rapidly thrashing towards us. The funny thing, is that earlier in the evening we had joked about the obnoxious lights on it’s hull that made the water around it glow neon blue – this was probably the exact same reason that we quickly saw it dragging towards us, recklessly out of control. Dave promptly started the motor, and I grabbed the blow horn and started to blare it at them in hopes of getting their attention. I ran to the bow, thinking we were going to hoist up our anchor to move, when I finally saw the passengers on the other boat. They were scrambling to get oriented, I saw this because, despite it being a pitch black night, they were only 15 feet from crashing into our bow. They got the engine turned on and cranked the motor into forward, right as their prop was over our anchor line. Once again, those hideous blue lights illuminated all this easily for me.  We missed being hit by maybe a few more seconds. We also, luckily, didn’t get our anchor line sliced through by their propellers.

They pulled away from our boat, slightly, only to continue being rocked and pushed sideways alongside us, heading directly for another boat just off our starboard stern. Dave began blowing the standard 5-blast signal towards the other boat, hoping to alarm them of impending impact. I got onto the radio to inform the other boats in the harbor (there were about 15 boats) that there was an out of control powerboat careening through.  I think, crazily, there was only one other boat in the harbor with their VHF on as he was the only one who asked about the dangerous drifting boat.  We couldn’t tell exactly what happened, we don’t think there was an impact, though he may have cut the other guys anchor line or maybe he let go of it himself for a quick escape. We saw the previously anchored boat drop anchor twenty feet west, but that’s about it. The next morning we saw him retrieving the anchor that he had abandoned (or had cut) the night before.

It took a good 15 minutes for the drifting powerboat to seem to get anchored again, we watched it struggling to make any forward headway in the wind and surge we were all against. Dismally, this thought only forced us to realize that our little engine wouldn’t stand a chance. If we drag anchor or get hit by another boat, we won’t be able to power against the winds and waves and we’d be headed straight for the large sections of iron shore (extremely sharp eroded limestone), a guaranteed hull smasher.

It felt like our boat was a teeter-totter, doing its best to cut through 4-5 foot swells that were crashing towards us. Praying our anchor would hold up, ready to deploy more if it didn’t and hope that it would at the very least slow us down.  Dave let out an additional 20 feet of anchor rode to help counter the height of the waves and prevent the anchor from dragging.

Once the immediate threat had been avoided, we each took a seat outside to watch for any other dragging boats. Naturally, we were at the back of the line, in sight for any kamikaze boats that could be heading straight for us. Yet again, we watched another massive powerboat come towards us. This time at least, it was a slowed movement. We watched it get closer and closer, first being able to make out the name of the boat, then close enough that we could see the basketball game they were watching on satellite TV inside. We hailed them over and over, hoping to reach someone on board to inform them they were heading our way. Nothing. We shined lights on our boat, once again hoping they’d notice. Nope.

We sat for about an hour, watching them slowly approach. Waiting for them to be close enough to blow horn them. Finally, the wind started to fade and it looks like they were no longer dragging. We managed to get a couple hours of sleep. Must have been nice to watch a basketball game instead. Ignorance is bliss.

We woke up early the next day, only to find out that wasn’t the storm we were expecting, just a squall that came out of the blue. Not wanting to face another night like before, we decided to seek better anchorage elsewhere before the next one, which is supposed to be worse, rolls in. We had dodged a seriously close bullet, and prayed to avoid another one. We were quick on our feet with our appropriate responses, but nonetheless we realized there wasn’t much we could do given the violence of the storm. We were just really lucky our anchor held.

The next morning, we didn’t get so much as a glance from the guy on the powerboat that nearly came crashing into us, as he motored by. We’ve been finding this is typical ‘wealthy motor yacht’ behavior.  

We’re a little alarmed by the early tropical storm potential that seems to be occurring around us. We’ve seen there’s already been a named storm in the Atlantic as well as the Pacific, and just recently saw there was a chance of one forming off of Honduras. We had been suspecting that all this moisture and storm activity might be an indication to an early hurricane season, we were either right or lucky (maybe I wouldn’t use the term lucky). Nonetheless, we don’t want to get caught between a rock and a hard place (again).

We made it back up to Warderick yesterday, and got caught up in squalls. Lightning, rain, high winds - it wasn't a fun few hours. It was supposed to be decent, but we got caught in a very unexpected northern storm about halfway through our sail. We made it safe and sound to Warderick, but wet, cold and a little nerve fried (at least I did, Dave seemed alright). 

We're headed up to Shroud today, and hopefully we'll be making our long crossing to Nassua tomorrow. We're just trying to get out of the Bahamas in one piece, at this point. Wish us luck for good weather tomorrow, it'll be a long day and a large area to cross!

Staniel Cay email

We've, so far, made it as far south as Staniel Cay. We haven't had the best of weather lately, but we're trying to make the best of it. We've been ping-ponging around the Exumas Land and Sea Park, as well as the other islands south of the designated area. I'd love to post pictures on our blog, however we've found that internet here doesn't come cheap, and they limit your bandwidth. Between Dave and myself, we're barely able to send out emails, check weather, and make sure the world outside Wave Dancer hasn't crumbled, until we're kicked offline for using our alloted bandwidth. 

Any day that's been sunny, we've spent endless hours in the water. Drifting in ripping currents, exploring tanzanite winding mangrove creeks nestled between the whitest sand you've ever seen, hiking the trails, harassing the dog endlessly, snorkeling in incredible reefs, gawking at everything from Nurse sharks, Eagle rays, Common rays, giant lobster, Lionfish, Reef sharks, Moray eels - I could go on. One of the most impressive things about the Exumas (aside from the color of the water) is the sand. It's rubbed and worn so raw from the sea and the surge that it takes on a perfectly round shape. The sand here looks like minute orbed beads, which in turn causes it to be lusciously soft. Like velvet. 

Like I said though, for everyday of sun, we've had one for cloud and rain. We're anchored off from Big Major (that's the island with the wild pigs, chickens and goats). We've had a great time feeding them, and waiting for them to swim close enough to the dinghy that we're afraid they might pop it. I'll post pictures when I can - along with text. 

Spanish Wells to the Exumas

Spanish Wells - where to begin? It's a strange little place. Dave and I were a little afraid of going there, everything we'd read and heard about it was a little off-putting. We'd heard that it was a dry county, aka no selling of any alcohol. We'd heard that everyone there was really rude and unfriendly. We'd also heard that the genetic pool there is, well, let's say a little too close for comfort. One out of three of those facts was definitely not true; people there were unbelievably friendly. One of those facts was definitely true; there are no alcohol sales in Spanish Wells. As for the third, I'm not going to say which way I lean on that topic.

We pulled into Spanish Wells Yacht Club (meaning, I nearly crashed us into the dock and another boat, my docking skills aren't honed in yet). Within 10 minutes of our arrival, we were invited to a dinner party from some of the locals. We spent our evening at their awesome beach house, drinking red wine, eating delicious food, and enjoying great conversations. One of the other guest brought a couple sky lanterns, and we released them off the beach. We couldn't have timed it better, with a blood red moon and a tremendous meteorite to compliment the lantern floating up into the stratosphere. Hopefully, we'll be getting those pictures emailed to us.

(photo taken from nsri.org.za). For those who don't know what sky lanterns are, they're a biodegradable colored paper bag. They're popular in Asian cultures. The opening is ringed with aluminum wire to keep shape, with a fuel cell in the middle. You light the fuel cell and within minutes, the air inside the lantern is heated, causing it to rise. 

We re-provisioned in Spanish Wells. Unfortunately, we ran out of water in Little Harbour and had to refill that in Spanish Wells as well. This is unfortunate because the water there is brackish, and we've had terrible tasting water since. 

We tried to leave on May 9th, but after hours of beating in the wind and waves, had to turn our tails back. We anchored out in Royal Harbor, and got stuck there for a couple days from bad weather. Finally, we pushed onto the Exumas. A long and windless day of motoring for 9 hours against current.

We dropped anchor off of Ship Channel Cay for the night, then left again the next morning for a safe harbor. We'd heard rumors (Chris Parker, the SSB meteorologist) about a potential tropical storm forming and heading our way. Anchorage in the Exumas is great, as long as you have no wind or trade winds (coming from the east). We've had nothing but SE winds, which has left us open to surge and waves. Dave took this video, this has been our life in the Exumas since May 10th.

Maybe you can, or maybe you can't, from the video see that our boat is rocking between 25-35 degrees in both directions. We've both joked, that if you really wanted a means to torture someone, making them live in a rocking environment for days on end would be enough to break a person. It's worn on us, to say the very least. Plus, for every spectacular day of weather we've had since we arrive in the Bahamas, we've had a day of equal terrible weather as well. The good days here are wonderful, heaven couldn't be better than this. For the other days, well, just keeping our sanity is keeping us occupied. 

The Exumas Land and Sea Park is awesome. It's a reserve, 22 miles long and 8 miles wide. No fishing, no camping, no anchoring in many areas, no food, no fuel. But wonderful reefs and uninhabited Cays. A few days ago we spent a sunny day snorkeling through ripping currents, wading through mangrove channels that look like winding swimming pools. Some of the Cays have natural wells, though the one we've found so far looks like it was pollution from the last hurricane.

We have caves and reefs to look forward to. Hopefully, we have better weather to look forward to also. 

Our final days in the Abacos

We'd spent our last few days on Abacos doing last minute exploring, getting those shots that we hadn't thought to get before, bouldering on some of the limestone, and hanging out with Bret and Kristin. 

We were ready to move on. While we love Little Harbour, and hate to see it go, we need to press on with our journey and make it further south. We've been in the Bahamas for six weeks now, it's time we move on from the Abacos. 

Our sail over to Spanish Wells entailed us crossing the Northeast Providence Channel. The maximum depth we read on our chart plotter put us at an intimidating 13,000 ft. There's a funny saying in the boating community; a boat will float in 10 feet or 1000 feet. When you first hear this, you think little of it. However, you find that many sailors shy away from deep water crossings, for the most part because of the intimidation of the water depth. Ultimately, the boat will perform the same despite ocean depth - both shallow waters and deep waters have their ups and their downs. Nonetheless, it was the deepest water we'd experienced, a detail that didn't go unnoticed. 

Our last night, we enjoyed dinner at Pete's Pub with our friends. We lucked out and watched the supermoon rise above the Atlantic. With a fire burning in the west, it created a spectacular pink floating orb to the east, and a red sky sunset to the west. 

We awoke at a brisk 3am to get ready for our crossing. Deep water crossing mean that we have to deflate the dinghy. Taking Mckinley to shore, hauling the outboard out, then deflating, hoisting it and securing it to the deck can take us 2-3 hours. With our intention of pulling anchor at dusk, we had a rough night of little sleep. 

We got to watch the supermoon fall down and the sunrise come up as we made our way to the Atlantic channel. A very complete way to say adieu to our beloved Little Harbour. 

We shimmied to the top of the old, abandoned light house to get a view of Little Harbour. Well worth the risk. 

The inside of the light house. Not much left, sadly. 

Some of the friends we made in Little Harbour; Bret and Kristen. Bret works in the Foundry seasonally. Kristen is also an artist. They've help to make our time here more colorful.

This blow hole was called Dragon's Breath. Easy to see why!

Alright - Finally to the Wedding!

As most of you are all aware, this was something that was spontaneous (not the desire to get married, just finalizing the whole kit and caboodle). While we would have loved to have had all our close friends and family attend, the idea of a 'white wedding' was daunting and strenuous just to think of. Our biggest factor in marrying while on our trip was timing. We've been engaged for...well, Dave's asleep, he's the guy who remembers these things...but, it's been awhile. We had decided some time ago that we wanted our wedding to fall on April 25, to sandwich nicely between Dave's birthday and my own. This works for two reasons: we'll be able to celebrate our lives together in one fell swoop, and it has the added perk of being easy for me to remember (I'm atrocious with remembering dates).

So, we mulled it over for a few days, consulted our parents and a few select friends a few days later, then started to make the whole thing move forward a few days after that. Overall, I'd say actual "planning" was  three whole days. One day to hitchhike into Marsh Harbour to obtain our wedding certificate, acquire a Justice of the Peace and to find a wedding dress, one day of determining location and inviting a few of the locals, then finally the day of the wedding itself. Stress free. Easy. Relaxed....

We had a surprise from our announcement; Max, a dear friend of ours from Florida, bought a plane ticket to Abacos Sunday night and flew out to us on Tuesday. We tried to get the only rental cottage in town, but we unable to secure it. So Pete, the owner of the pub and foundry (and damn near the town itself), offered for Max to crash in the 'loft' upstairs from the foundry. Free of charge.

The Penthouse Suite.

It had barn doors. 

Below and behind, you can make out a part of the foundry. 

We all thought this place was too cool. Dave and I stayed with Max the first night - I was actually envious of Max's accommodations. 

 The day of our wedding, instead of getting my hair done or panicking over last minute arrangements, we went playing. Reichard, Natalie, Bret and Kristen had invited us out in their skiff to go Blue Hole free-diving. We couldn't pass that up! We saw dozens of turtles, dove into dark aquatic caves, and took a magical ride through shallow channels of white sands and mangroves (I don't use the word 'magical' lightly, but no words could describe how amazing this experience was). Natalie and Kristen grabbed some photos, hopefully they'll send them to me and I'll be sure to post them.

Left to right: Bret, Reichard, Max. Out playing in the blue hole.

Natalie and Kristin.

Reichard in the water, and Bret on top - about to commence spear fishing.

The spider web of shallow channels among the mangroves.

We had down time afterwards to enjoy the Fat Tire beers that Jason De Cristofaro had so kindly sent us while we were in the Keys! For those of you who are saying to yourselves, "What?" - Dave's all time favorite beer is Fat Tire, from New Belgium Brewing Company in Fort Collins, Colorado. Which is, sadly, impossible to get east of the Mississippi. (http://www.newbelgium.com)

Finally, our ceremony began around 6:45pm. Dusk. Our Justice of the Peace, Mr. Cephas Cooper, drove down from Marsh Harbour. We were glad we went with him. Dave liked him from the start, partially because the name Cephas is Greek for 'rock'. That resonated with him. More importantly, he was laid back, friendly and had simple and elegant words for the ceremony.

We had a small group of locals who we invited and seemed all too interested to attend. We've grown to really adore so many of the people here, we were honored for them to come. We asked Max and Reichard to be our two witnesses.

We both wrote our own vows. We're both overwhelmed with love for each other and are happy to be husband and wife.

We picked up some o'duerves and a couple cakes from Marsh Harbour for our guests. We all went back to the pub, ordered a wonderful dinner, had some cake then walked up to Natalies house under a spectacular night sky for a little bit of wine and great company. It was a wonderful day.

The day after, we all went to Bookie's Beach to show Max the lively coral reef. We all lucked out and saw a Reef shark. The ultimate prize of the day? DAVE FOUND A MESSAGE IN A BOTTLE! We had to break the bottle to get to the message (we'll put it in another bottle and keep it as a treasure), we found that it is from the Philippines from 2005. A man named Rene left his address in it, along with a pen and some blank pieces of paper. Everything was aged and worn, which gave it more appeal. It was honestly the single most impressive thing I've ever been a part of. According to CNN, it's estimated that "just one in 300,000 washed-up bottles contains a message." In researching this, it would appear that your chances of winning the lottery or getting struck by lightning are much higher. It was also, Dave's birthday. What. A. Gift. We intend to write to our mystery friend.

We missed everyone who couldn't attend, but everyone was with us spirit. We thank everyone for their warm wishes, love and support. Here's to spending our lives together! Much love!

Bob and Allison. Our fellow cave-dwellers.

The flowers were a gift from Natalie.

We found out later that this was the place that Volvo buried the car for the 'Pirates of the Caribbean' promotion.(http://www.prize-entry.com/volvo_potc/canneslions/games/)

Max was there to bear as witness.

We tied McKinley off to the nearest tree. This seemed to piss her off pretty well. She proceeded to star us down and bark through our entire ceremony. Luckily, Cephas didn't ask, "If there is anyone who knows of any reason why these two should not be wed, speak now or forever hold your peace." 

Reichard, witness two. We were honored that he accepted.

Special thanks to Max for taking the photos! They're perfect! And for flying out to be with us on this day, we love you Max! Also, we'd like to say a special thank you to the community of Little Harbour. This warm and friendly placed has touched our hearts, and we're so thankful to have had the opportunity to share this day here with the people of this town. Warmest regards to Reichard, Natalie, Bret, Kristen, Bob, Allison, Pete, Willy and Susan. You're all wonderful people, thank you for honoring us.