When something goes bump in the night

I steer the boat through a narrow shallow channel leading into White Sound anchorage at Green Turtle Cay. Guess what we’re welcomed by? Green turtles! They poke their heads up out the water before submerging themselves again and flapping their flippers to swim off, they’re surprisingly quick when they want to be.

We’re at Green Turtle as it’s a really protected anchorage and the weather forecast has predicted intermittent gale force winds over next few days. We lower the anchor and let out 120ft of chain to keep us secure. We test how well the anchor has set by putting our yacht in reverse, pulling against the anchor.  We don’t budge. Fingers crossed we’ll be secure during these storms. It’s always a worry.

Green Turtle is the first fully inhabited island we’ve visited in the Bahamas, but it’s still remote. We’re staying in White Sound where there are marinas, mooring buoys and space to anchor. The marinas offer restaurants, bars and fuel amongst other facilities. Nearby New Plymouth is the hub of this island but its only a quaint sleepy village. To give an idea of how chilled it is here, the local bank is only open once a week; for a few hours on a Thursday morning. Many buildings are of wooden construction and are painted in pretty pastel shades. The streets are peaceful and there’s a friendly vibe, everyone you pass says hello. It’s very welcoming.

Small grocery stores allow us to top up our fridge, but not too much. It’s pricey!

One courgette: $2.50

One pineapple: $7.50

One loaf of bread: $5.00

We opt for the cheapest meat in the freezer section, it seems to be pork. At the checkout the cashier asks “You do know what this meat is?”, we honestly reply “We’re not entirely sure, no”. “Pigs feet” she responds. We decide to pop it back in the freezer and treat ourselves to a couple of trusty burgers instead.

One evening we head out to meet friends at Tranquil Turtle bar overlooking the sea. We enjoy freshly caught local fish and chips and sample a few drinks from the bar. Later in the evening back on the boat the winds pick up to around 25 knots, we rock around, twisting and pulling on the anchor. We seem to be pretty secure. We try to get to sleep but as the conditions deteriorate I worry about every twist, turn and bump I hear. I head up to the cockpit to check things out….we’re still in the same place, we haven’t dragged. I look around to see the lights of the other yachts around me, some anchored, some on mooring buoys and others at the dock in the marinas. The sky above is clear and the stars are shining brightly, but we’re surrounded by storms. Lightning is flashing all around, flickering constantly like a light bulb with a faulty connection.

Back in bed I still can’t sleep, the wind is howling through our halyards and the snubber is creaking under all the weight of the boat. By 4am I finally manage to drift off, but an hour later I’m suddenly awoken by the sound of a fog horn blasting. I jump up out of bed assuming it must be someone alerting us that we’re dragging. I run up to the cockpit and look to the rear, it all looks fine, we’re still in the same place. Maybe I imagined the foghorn? I turn to the front of our boat and can make out the stern of another boat in front of us, it has a white hull…I’m confused, the boat that was in front earlier was blue hulled. Then I realise what’s happened: a large sailboat that was on the other side of the anchorage has dragged all the way over, it’s collided with the blue hulled vessel ahead of us, and is still dragging….towards us! I wake Ben. We put the engine on instantly and throw some fenders over the sides for protection. The captain of the dragging vessel is now awake and has put out an extra anchor. It sets in the seabed and he is secure, but he’s dangerously close to us, and the other boat he’s already collided with.

The wind is still howling, the conditions are too bad for him to move and it’s suspected his anchor and chain has tangled with the other boats’. For the next 3 hours we stand in the cockpit monitoring all our movements. We go from the pitch black of night, through sunrise and into daylight. The weather worsens further, a squall arrives throwing heavy rain at us, winds hitting over 35 knots and the biggest clap of thunder and lightning overhead makes me jump out of my skin. The change in direction of the wind sends us hurtling around closer to the other boat. We’re now side by side. All our fenders are out and our boat hooks are in our hands ready to push the other vessels away.

We use the engine and steering to control our boat too, it’s not easy as we seem to be sat in a strong current. When the squall passes the wind changes direction, we all shift again, bringing new dangers and other boats into the equation. We manage to keep ourselves safe and when the weather suddenly clears we grab the opportunity with both hands, raise our anchor and move away from the entangled boats to a mooring buoy on the other side of the anchorage. We’re safe, secure and no damage has been done to our boat. After a deep breath, we jump in the dinghy and head back over to help the other two boats separate from one another. By 10am we’re soaked through to the bone and exhausted. We’re in great need of some shut eye before we can continue with our day.

In the afternoon the skies clear it’s our opportunity to explore the island again, not by foot though, my toe is still too painful from my Manjack island incident. A couple of friends, Marc and Linda from sailing vessel DevOcean, have hired a golf cart. It’s the most popular means of transport here. We first met DevOcean back at Great Sale Cay during our first storm experience a few weeks ago. It’s nice to have familiar faces around and there’s the added bonus they’re a bundle of laughs. We all jump on the golf cart and head off for a morning of exploration. We drive along bumpy dirt roads to find beaches, locals houses, grand houses set amongst coconut trees and much much more.

Our time at Green Turtle comes to an end when there’s a good weather window for us to make our way through the Whale Channel. It’s a notorious stretch of water and must only be crossed in good weather conditions. Let’s hope it’s plain sailing!

Seasickness, fishing and island exploration

8 knot winds from the Southwest and minimal waves – finally, a suitable weather window for our crossing from Lake Worth Florida, to West End Bahamas. This forecast is what we’ve been waiting for.
We raise the anchor at Lake Worth at 4am and make our way out of the lake. It’s pitch dark so we use the marker buoys to navigate through the channel leading us out into the Atlantic ocean. It’s plain sailing for the first few hours, we’re cruising at around 5 knots and the sun rising on the horizon is a pleasant sight.

Sailing with the mainsail and genoa

By around 10am the winds have picked up to around 20 knots and as a result the waves have also increased. The sailing conditions continue to worsen and we have to bring down the mainsail, leaving just the genoa out.
Our boat may be 42ft in length but she’s pretty lightweight, 20,000lbs. She doesn’t plough through the waves like a heavy displacement boat, instead she rolls over them. At a guess there are some 8ft waves ouhere and we surf down some of them at 8 knots.
We make our way across the Gulf Stream which has a 2 knot current flowing North. To account for this we have to adjust our heading to a point further South than we want to go.
Now, although I’m embarking on this sailing adventure I am terrible in rough seas and with these kinds of conditions my sea sickness makes an unpleasant appearance. Ben does a great job of keeping things under control on the boat, whilst I do a great job of laying down in the cockpit just about keeping my stomach under control.
By late afternoon we see West End in the distance and I strongly hope that means the waves will die down. No such luck.
We’re still rolling up and down every wave and I know if I move, this seasickness is going to get the better of me. But, I have no choice, as we get closer it takes two people to navigate, bring in the sails, steer, radio the marina, check the charts, put the fenders out and keep us safe.
We make our way towards the channel leading us into the marina, the boat rocking around and twisting sideways with each wave. The channel’s marked out with a rock wall and it’s nerve wracking knowing that one small error or particularly large wave could see us crashing into them.
Thankfully, after 11 hours of sailing, we safely make it into the calm waters of Old Bahama Bay Marina where we check in with customs before reflecting on our crossing…the positives, the negatives and what we could have done differently.
As the sunsets we plan our onward route.

Over the next few weeks we make our way along the Abaco Islands. It’s winter here so the weather is hit and miss, sometimes we’re fortunate, sometimes less so. On good days the sun’s out, the winds are low and we find ourselves exploring the uninhabited islands, snorkelling the coral reefs and fishing. When the cold fronts come through we take shelter in a suitable anchorage and find things to do on the boat…repairs, watching films, reading and playing games, our favourite being Jenga! Always more fun played on an unstable vessel!
We really do find ourselves in the middle of nowhere out here. The Abacos are the most Northern Islands in the Bahamas. Only the larger islands are inhabited leaving the smaller islands as nature intended. They are quite rocky in places but there are plenty of stretches of white sandy beaches too. The islands are covered in wild shrubs and trees and we’ve heard some have wild pigs roaming around but we’re yet to see any. Most islands have a little “path” going from one side of the island to the other which help us explore more easily. The paths are so unidentifiable, people have tied washed up items onto the trees to mark the way. We’re guided by plastic bottles, ropes, crates and flip (or is it flop…?).

Aerial photo of Great Sale Cay, an uninhabited island 

These islands are well off the beaten track and the only other people we see here are other cruisers. Everyone we’ve met has been so friendly, welcoming and helpful. It’s truly a community amongst sailors. Whilst anchored in one remote bay sheltering from an upcoming storm, sailors from other boats came over in their dinghy to introduce themselves and offer assistance if we had any trouble in the storm. Over the next few days we looked out for each other, socialised, played games and went for walks together. It was from one of these fellow sailors that I obtained my first bread recipe…via the vhf radio. So, as the rain came down and the wind was blowing outside I got out my measuring cups and ingredients. After a few hours and plenty of elbow grease I had successfully created my first loaf from scratch! I must say I was pretty pleased with the finished result!

Freshly baked loaf anyone? 

With bread making under my belt I’m on a mission to make us even more self sufficient. Enter the fishing rod! During one of our beach ventures we collected conch, although out here they eat it, my aim was to use it as bait. They’re ugly, slimy things and I couldn’t quite face taking it out its shell and handling it so I left that bit to Ben. However…off the edge of the boat I lowered a piece of conch on a hook down to the seabed 8ft below, within seconds a fish had taken the bait and was hooked. I reeled it in and placed it on the chopping board in the cockpit. The next bit wasn’t easy for me to do, and in between my squeamish noises I just kept apologising to the fish…but I did the necessary in order for us to eat fresh fish for dinner.

Conch in their shells

This is a whole new life we’re living and we have so much to learn and experience. Living on a yacht in paradise sounds fantastic, but there’s going to be lows as well as highs. We’re on an adventure and whilst our liveaboard life has only just started, I think I can say I’m going to enjoy it!

 

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You can also watch my vlog for the Gulf Stream crossing and Abaco Islands leg of our adventure on my You Tube channel.