Abrahams Bay, 
Mayaguana,
Bahamas
22.21.553N
72.59.068W
57.3 NM
9.01 Hrs.
6.4 Avg.
7.6 Max
Current Odom: 7503.0
We dropped our lines and eased out of our slip at 6:20 am, waving farewell to Chris & Laura who were in the process of doing the same thing. We slowly zig-zagged out of the marina entrance, following the chart plotter bread crumbs we had left behind when we first arrived and required the services of a guide. The surf was breaking on the reef but the entrance was navigable so we punched through, turned north and set a course to Mayaguana. The water depth immediately fell away and the water changed to a deep clear indigo blue. We looked back and saw Maltimia break through safely and turn south.
For the next 9 hours, we tried to motor sail periodically by raising our main. This worked for a short time but with the light winds shifting from one aft quarter to the other, proved worthless, so we rolled it back in and waited until the winds picked up a bit. We tried again when we saw double digits reflected on the wind gauge but still no joy, the direction was just too variable.
A line of dark clouds, apparently streaming all the way from Panama (according to our weather guru,) reached us and sprinkled enough rain that we dropped our enclosure for the first time in ages. It was just enough to turn the warm air into a sauna. However, as it passed us, it opened up the sky above Mayaguana and we had perfect visibility for entering Abrahams Bay at Guana Point, which is a very narrow opening in the reef and strewn with coral heads.
We dodged and weaved our way in, selected a spot behind the reef and dropped the hook. We backed down and felt the familiar tug of a well set anchor. Dale jumped in to confirm the set and on his way back to the boat, I noticed that he kept diving down here and there along the way. When he climbed back aboard, he had a fist full of dollars. Sand dollars. He said that the water was extremely clear and that he could see what was left of our completely buried anchor as soon as he jumped in.
As I made dinner, we could occasionally hear the distant rumble of thunder. We knew that nasty weather was predicted, so we finished eating and went up into the cockpit to watch. The dark clouds were well to the north of us and the air was deathly still. The water, although already calm, slowed to a standstill and we appeared to be anchored in a bathtub. I was marveling at being able to see sand dollars and sea shells on the bottom while standing on the bow, when a dark figure approached. My first thought was that it was a barracuda. However, as it came closer, it was clearly a reef shark.
Seymour Teeth, the shark, clearly likes to loiter around boats. He has a gash on the right side of his head that appears to have come from a fairly recent encounter with a prop. I suspect that he was attracted to the blood from the pork chops I made for dinner but who knows. He hung around the Palace well into the night, so there will be no midnight swims for us in this particular harbor.
We tried to watch a movie but the lightening to the north kept grabbing our attention. We could no longer hear the thunder but the cloud to cloud and cloud to ground lightening was spectacular. Constant flashes of light; one over the other. Only a second or two was ever devoted to the darkness of night. It reminded me of the lightening storm that blacked out New York when I was a child. We could still see Seymour circling. I wonder if he knows something that we don’t.
Mayaguana,
Bahamas
22.21.553N
72.59.068W
57.3 NM
9.01 Hrs.
6.4 Avg.
7.6 Max
Current Odom: 7503.0
We dropped our lines and eased out of our slip at 6:20 am, waving farewell to Chris & Laura who were in the process of doing the same thing. We slowly zig-zagged out of the marina entrance, following the chart plotter bread crumbs we had left behind when we first arrived and required the services of a guide. The surf was breaking on the reef but the entrance was navigable so we punched through, turned north and set a course to Mayaguana. The water depth immediately fell away and the water changed to a deep clear indigo blue. We looked back and saw Maltimia break through safely and turn south.
For the next 9 hours, we tried to motor sail periodically by raising our main. This worked for a short time but with the light winds shifting from one aft quarter to the other, proved worthless, so we rolled it back in and waited until the winds picked up a bit. We tried again when we saw double digits reflected on the wind gauge but still no joy, the direction was just too variable.
A line of dark clouds, apparently streaming all the way from Panama (according to our weather guru,) reached us and sprinkled enough rain that we dropped our enclosure for the first time in ages. It was just enough to turn the warm air into a sauna. However, as it passed us, it opened up the sky above Mayaguana and we had perfect visibility for entering Abrahams Bay at Guana Point, which is a very narrow opening in the reef and strewn with coral heads.
We dodged and weaved our way in, selected a spot behind the reef and dropped the hook. We backed down and felt the familiar tug of a well set anchor. Dale jumped in to confirm the set and on his way back to the boat, I noticed that he kept diving down here and there along the way. When he climbed back aboard, he had a fist full of dollars. Sand dollars. He said that the water was extremely clear and that he could see what was left of our completely buried anchor as soon as he jumped in.
As I made dinner, we could occasionally hear the distant rumble of thunder. We knew that nasty weather was predicted, so we finished eating and went up into the cockpit to watch. The dark clouds were well to the north of us and the air was deathly still. The water, although already calm, slowed to a standstill and we appeared to be anchored in a bathtub. I was marveling at being able to see sand dollars and sea shells on the bottom while standing on the bow, when a dark figure approached. My first thought was that it was a barracuda. However, as it came closer, it was clearly a reef shark.
Seymour Teeth, the shark, clearly likes to loiter around boats. He has a gash on the right side of his head that appears to have come from a fairly recent encounter with a prop. I suspect that he was attracted to the blood from the pork chops I made for dinner but who knows. He hung around the Palace well into the night, so there will be no midnight swims for us in this particular harbor.
We tried to watch a movie but the lightening to the north kept grabbing our attention. We could no longer hear the thunder but the cloud to cloud and cloud to ground lightening was spectacular. Constant flashes of light; one over the other. Only a second or two was ever devoted to the darkness of night. It reminded me of the lightening storm that blacked out New York when I was a child. We could still see Seymour circling. I wonder if he knows something that we don’t.
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