Georgetown
Great Exuma Island,
Bahamas
23.30.605N
75.45.490W

185.3 NM
32.4 Hrs.
5.8 Avg
7.9 Max

Current Odom: 7689.7 NM



The dawn finally crept up and erased the cloud to cloud lightening from our view. In spite of the storm, we were still on schedule for a 9-10am approach to Rum Cay. However, once again, as the sun rose higher in the sky, the clouds cleared out, the winds filled in and we debated our situation.

We knew that more bad weather was coming up from the south originating around the Jamaca/Cuba area and was supposed to cross the Bahamas with squalls containing high winds. If we stopped at Rum Cay to rest, we could leave on Saturday morning for Georgetown and make it in a day. The 6:30 am weather report indicated that squalls were still in the area but that the really bad weather would most likely occur on Saturday night. If the weather came in quicker than expected, we’d be stuck at Rum Cay; good holding but exposed to the south and west which is where the weather would be approaching from.

We radioed back to Vagu that we were going to keep on going to Georgetown and expected to arrive about 5pm if we maintained a 6 kt speed. Nigel, a Brit, told us that he had never been to the Bahamas before and was leery to approach the bank on his own. However, he also had guests that were flying into Georgetown on Monday and he had to get there by then. He decided to keep going with us.

We had fairly decent winds as we approached Long Island but as we rounded Santa Maria point (where Columbus lost his ship,) the winds died out and a long line of dark clouds could be seen coming in our direction. We took ourselves about 20 degress off course and scooted along the side of them and only had a light shower to contend with. Vagu opted for an even more conservative course and probably didn’t even get a sprinkle.

As hoped for, we reached our first way point to approach Great Exhuma at 4:30pm. We slowed and waited for Vagu to fall in behind us and then with Dale on the bow, we made our way onto the bank, entered the cut in the reef and transited between the islands. Our original intention was to anchor at one of the outlying islands until the morning, but since we still had good light, we continued on and made the main anchorage at Georgetown by 5:30pm.

Bob & Caren on Toucan Dream (friends and neighbors from our home port) had radioed us earlier in the day and told us where they were anchored, so when we approached, we spotted our sistership and headed for a spot in front of her. Bob had seen us coming in and came flying up in his “dinghy”, a 15’ Boston Whaler. He yelled across that he had 500’ foot of chain out and not to drop our anchor anywhere near his. Of course, this was a joke and we knew it. Unfortunately, Vagu didn’t and veered off at such an acute angle that half the anchorage was drawn to commotion and got quite a chuckle out of it.

Although we wanted to visit some of these islands we missed on our way south, staying safe has been more important to us on our way north. We’ll have to see them on another trip.

Right now, we’re safely anchored in deep sand, surrounded by islands with at least one grocery store and laundromat within dinghy distance. Our only casualty was a little bird (like our last hitch hiker) we found on our forward deck this morning. We’re not sure if he was trying to ride out the storm and drowned or if he flew into our mast mistaking the steaming light for something safe. He was unceremoniously buried at sea.


Photo: Toucan Dream (sistership to Gypsy Palace) at anchor in Georgetown, Great Exuma.

At sea
Atlantic Ocean
North of Plana Cays

We woke to blue skies clearing to the south and west of us this morning which wasn’t expected for another day. We listened to Chris, the weather guru, and elected to move to the western side of anchorage and take a peek around the island before deciding whether to continue on or not.

We made a pretty direct track across the anchorage without having to really dodge too many patches of reef or coral heads. As we approached the western side, the skies continued to clear to the north, so we decided to take the chance and go for it.

The two boats anchored at the western end of the island, Vagu and Stillawaw, hailed us and asked where we were headed and if they could tag along with us. Of course not, the more the merrier. We told them that if things blew up in our faces, we’d tuck in at Atwood Harbor along the way.

As it turned out, the skies continued to improve. Unfortunately, Stillawaw was the slowest of the 3 boats and could only do about 4.5 kts. Vagu could keep up with us but he didn’t like to run his engine at very high RPMs; not sure why. Stillawaw had an 8’ draft, SSB but no GPS; Vagu had GPS but his SSB wasn’t working, so he couldn't pick up weather forecasts.

As we passed the Plana Cays, Stillawaw broke off, radioing us that they were going to anchor behind West Plana Cay for the night. Since the skies were still clear, we told Vagu that we were going to continue northward to make Rum Cay by morning. Famous last words, of course, because as soon as night fell, lightening lit up the skies and there was no way we could bail out at that point.

The lightening was primarily on the western side of us. We dodged one cell that we saw on radar but in what appeared to be a single sweep of the radar, another smaller cell blossomed around us and kept us in rain, wind, thunder and lightening for the next 3 hours. It was not fun. Vagu didn’t care for it either. About the time we decided that the cell was attached to our mast and there was no way of shaking it, the lightening passed in front of us, moved off toward the east and left us only wind and rain to contend with. We figured our only options were to either push through it or turn around and head back. Considering more of it appeared to be behind us than in front of us, we kept pushing through.

Thunder and lightening continued throughout the night but thankfully, we could see the band of clouds that held the majority of the nasty weather was behind us now.

Big Ambergris Cay,
Turks & Caicos Islands
21.19.204N
71.39.049W

332.9 NM
55.49 Hrs.
6.0 Avg.
8.3 Max

Current Odometer: 7370.3



Happy Birthday James! We love you and look forward to seeing you soon.


As morning dawned, we could see the rocks we had been trying to avoid during the night and came up on the bank without mishap.

We could see a couple of boats anchored along Great Sand Cay, most likely pre-positioning for the trip south. We continued on and punched in the route that would take us around the Fish Cays to an anchorage behind Big Ambergris Cay.

We listened to Chris, our weather guru, and learned that there were gale force and possibly hurricane force winds along the east coast of the US developing this coming week. These conditions were expected to move south and east over the Abacos and Bahamas though they weren’t expected to reach as far south as the TCIs. However, the seas that were kicked up by these winds might. We were advised to tuck in somewhere until the seas moderated. Gerry & Nicky had told us of a marina they had stayed at on their way south on the north side of Provo; we’ll consult our charts and check it out.

Along our way to Ambergris, we met a convoy of 6 boats making their way south. The captain of “Maggie” hailed us on the radio and asked about sea conditions off the bank. We had heard him earlier on the SSB speaking with Chris and assured him that it was very calm and practically without wind. We also warned him that the evenings had been known to have thunder and lightening over the DR.

Dale spoke with the captain of Maggie at length and learned that they were in their mid-60’s and took up sailing 2.5 years ago. They had traveled through the Panama Canal from San Diego, along the east coast before hopping the ditch and working their way south through the Bahamas and Exumas to the TCIs. The captain, who spoke with an English accent, told of how they had been weather delayed for almost 6 weeks and were hurrying to get to Trinidad before hurricane season. They spoke of insurance “boxes” and places to stay before we finally wished them well and God’s speed to their destination of Crews Inn, the marina that was right across from us when we were in Trini. Once you get out here, it’s a small world.

We finally rounded around the Fish Cays and wiggled and dodged our way through the coral heads that lay between us and our anchorage behind Big Ambergris. There was a trawler named Voyager who was already anchored there, so we gave him plenty of space and anchored behind him in crystal clear water about 3:30pm. Dale dove in to check the anchor and came up with a conch shell for me to photograph before putting it back where he had found it.

We sat in the cockpit for awhile and noted the construction progress that’s been made since we were last here in late December 2005. Big Ambergris is an 1100 acre private island and home of the Turks & Caicos Sporting Club. So if you’re looking for a home in the $525,000 - $4.5 million range with a paved jet strip and deepwater marina accommodating 200+ foot yachts, with NO TAXES, this is the place for you!



Photo #1: What's left of wreck on Big Ambergris

Atlantic Ocean
20.18.76N
70.05.25W

We motored throughout the night and easily tracked 12 ships during our various watches. On one of my watches, I was tracking 4 at one time. Luckily, they passed well away from us so no evasive maneuvers were necessary.

Also during the night, the line of clouds that stream off Puerto Rico, across the Mona Passage and toward the Dominican Republic, held some lightening. All of it was well to the south of us and with stars directly over us, there nothing to worry about. As morning dawned, I watched a large black cloud shift from over the DR and out to sea toward us. However, the more it moved out to sea, the more the sun burned it away. Good deal! Our luck is holding.

We did have some light wind today that allowed us to sail with our spinnaker for about 5 hours making 5-6 kts. We hoisted it further up the mast this time in hopes that it would alleviate the chafing we’ve been discovering after each use. When we brought it back down, the line was once again worn but not to the extent that it had been previously. We decided that maybe some leather at the chafing point might be in order. Otherwise, we’re at a loss as to what to do next.

Our 6pm calculation reflected a possibility of another 24 hours before landfall by sail. Since weaving through reefs at sunset is not our idea of fun, we turned on the engine.

We also needed to adjust our course a bit. On our trip down, we had traveled directly south to Luperon but on our way back, we were making a direct course to the Turks & Caicos Islands from Puerto Rico which is north west. Unfortunately, this route took us over some rocky shoals and reefs; also not our idea of fun. So we angled around the shoals during the night to intersect our original route south. So far, so good.

Behind us, there is lightening in the sky over Hispaniola; above there are still stars.

Atlantic Ocean
19.05.800N
68.28.544W

Before heading out, Dale changed our running lights bulb again. It had burned out just as we were anchoring and with the marine police boat, we’d forgotten about it. With that completed, we hoisted our anchor and motored out of the northern entrance to Boqueron and headed out across the Mona Passage.

We had consulted our charts and discussed the possible routes last evening and debated whether to follow along the western coast of Puerto Rico or head directly across. With the lack of wind, we decided to just head straight out and motor until we could find some worthwhile wind. Further away from the island, the wind filled in from directly behind us, so we cut the engine and hoisted the main sail.

We were just approaching red marker #8 when a small boat with 2 men aboard waved us down. One of the men was clearly waving his jacket over his head in our direction and with the Coast Guard issuing an advisory for all boats to keep a lookout for a vessel in distress, we started our engine and made our way over to them. However, as we approached , we could see that they were anchored. We kept a fairly good distance from them, circled around and Dale went up front to see what they needed.

At first they asked if we spoke Espanola; Dale answered no and again asked if they needed assistance. The young man in the wrap around gold glasses spoke to his companion, said no, replied back to Dale that they were waiting for another boat, so we completed our circle around and continued on our way. Although the second young man in the front of the boat had a fish in his hands, we considered this to be a very unusual circumstance. We debated calling the Coast Guard but considering there was nothing to report, we decided to continue on our way.

We passed another small boat SCUBA diving on the western side of marker #8 and then finally a small sailboat approaching us from the direction of Mona Island. By this time, the Coast Guard had suspended their BOLO for the vessel in distress.

From that point on, we saw only 2 ships for the rest of the day. Both passed about 2 miles behind us. Hopefully, once we get to the other side of the Mona Passage, we won’t be dancing with the big boys anymore.

Caribbean Sea
17.28.086N
67.22.690W

Our luck held throughout the night. We passed under 3 distinctive bands of clouds and only found a light shower under one. Not enough to rinse off the boat or even its handkerchief sails.
Thankfully, our second day was much more comfortable. It was a bright sunny day with both the wind and seas diminishing. We shook out each reef one by one until we were flying full sails by mid-afternoon. Dale was starting to feel better, at least he was eating. However, we continued with our arrangement of eating and sleeping in the cockpit because it seemed easier than trying to make our way up and down a listing stairway.

With nightfall, we saw a band of clouds on the horizon, so once again, we reefed the main and jib to the first reefing point. Later, as we passed under the clouds, the winds picked up again, but with the sails already reefed, it was a non-event.

Our calculation this morning approximated a Tuesday morning arrival in Boqueron. However, as we came out of the west setting current the closer we got to Puerto Rico, the earlier in the morning it became. Dale was on watch as Puerto Rico came into view and at our 2am watch change, it was obvious we would be making landfall before sunrise.

Our approach led us up the west coast of Puerto Rico and from our last time through, we knew that our chart plotter was spot on (within reason). There were a few reefs and shallow spots to avoid so we rolled in the sails and turned on the engine. I found no problem in avoiding the hazardous areas and as soon as we spotted the channel light to the Boqueron harbor, we altered course slightly and entered without mishap.

We eased our way up to the coastline and started looking for the boats we knew would be anchored there. We could only spot one, so we selected a spot to the outside and behind it. As we were trying to anchor, we spotted a light that at first appeared to be on shore but then was clearly moving towards us. The bright light stayed on us making it extremely difficult to see but Dale was able to drop the anchor and about 80’ of chain before he headed back in my direction. I was starting to get nervous but as the bright light got closer, I could see a small blue flashing light beneath it.

I don’t recall that they ever identified themselves but assumed that they were either harbor patrol or homeland security. A male voice with a Hispanic accent asked us (in English) where we were coming from, how many people were on board, and how long we were planning on staying. Dale answered each question and soon they went on their way; heading back out and toward Mayaguez. Maybe they were Customs & Immigration looking for illegal aliens. In any event, I’m sure we looked and smelled our best at 4am and 3 days with no showers.

We went back to anchoring, letting out more chain and despite not getting a good tug when we backed down on the anchor, we put on the bridle and dropped below for a couple of hot showers before dropping into bed.

Caribbean Sea
14.49.223N
67.58.561W


We gave our hugs and kisses to Gerry & Nicky, choked back the lumps in our throats and dropped our mooring ball at 4pm. We unfurled our main to the first reefing point, as the wind was pretty gusty even in the bay and motor sailed to the end of Bonaire in incredibly deep water. We rounded to the north, unfurled the jib and set our course to Boqueron, Puerto Rico.

The wind was blowing 20-25 kts but was forecast to moderate back to the normal 15-20 kts range by Mon. The seas were supposed to be 5-6’ with a 6 second interval. I swear that more of them were in the 6-8’ range, as we were taking green water over the bow and occasionally over the cockpit. When we started seeing 26-29 kts being registered, we put a reef in the jib and continued on.

The sunset was particularly beautiful (no green flash) but once gone, conditions that had been challenging during the day became nerve racking after dark. Only the ¾ moon gave us any type of reprieve. At the 11pm watch change, we added another reef to the jib. Dale lost his favorite hat when he climbed out of the cockpit to check on the lines; there was no question that we wouldn’t be going back to retrieve it. During my 11-2 watch, I eased my grip on the jackline holding my tether and me in place, and looked back to identify the Southern Cross for the last time on our voyage. At the 2am watch change we added another reef to the main and discussed the option of turning around and heading back. Cooking was out of the question. Even hove to, I could only microwave something quickly; I’m glad I picked up that bucket of chicken. Sleeping was confined to the cockpit in case of emergency and the fact that Dale was starting to feel the effects of the nasty conditions. Going below for any reason was a challenge that we saved for the watch changes. Our bicycles that have never shifted before, were now a jumble on the forward cabin sole along with everything else that had been packed around them. Dale reasoned that if the conditions moderated as they were predicted, we would have lost 12 hours by turning back. We weren’t in any danger, the boat was handling well, it just wasn’t very comfortable. We sallied forth.

The skies lightened with the approaching dawn and with it, our trepidation. Slowly throughout the day, the winds died back to the 20-25kt range. By afternoon, the seas also seemed to be decreasing so we shook out one of the reefs in the jib and grabbed a couple of books to read. I spotted a few bright purple man-o-war jellyfish heading west during the day but didn’t want to jeopardize my camera in the boisterous conditions.

With the nightfall, we saw a line of clouds that lay directly over our path, so we put the reef back in and hoped that we wouldn’t encounter any squalls during the night. (In case you’re not keeping track, we’re back to 2 reefs in each sail.)