Current Position 44 22.21N 064 13.27W

Well it’s finally time to finish the story. We’ve been home for three months now, and if we were going south again this year, we’d be getting ready to leave. But alas, that is not to be. This is an “off” year, a chance to stay home and catch up on repairs and maintenance around the house and continue our work on Malolo in preparation for the next trip south.

To carry on from where we left off, we spent another couple of relaxing days at Vineyard Haven and then the weather window that we were looking for did in fact materialize. As I mentioned earlier, there are two routes out of the Vineyard towards home. One is to go through Woods Hole at the southwest corner of Cape Cod, then up Buzzards Bay and through the Cape Cod Canal into Cape Cod Bay. The other is to head east through Nantucket Sound along the south side of Cape Cod and into the Gulf of Maine.

The route through Woods Hole has very high currents and has to be run at slack tide. The problem is that once through Woods Hole and into Buzzards Bay, the tide also has to be favourable for a run through the Cape Cod Canal. That meant that we had to get through Woods Hole near a slack tide that was turning from an ebb into a flood tide, and not the other way around. The timing just wasn’t going to work. The slack tide that we needed was too early in the morning to allow us to get there in daylight, or it meant that we’d be going through in the late evening in the dark. Neither sounded like much fun.

The other option, heading east through Nantucket Sound to the Gulf of Maine also has its issues. The water is shoal with only limited deep water passages. Because of the limited deep water, the currents run strong through the Sound. Landmarks named “Wreck Shoal”, “Broken Ground” and the like don’t exactly instil confidence. The passage out of the Sound and into the Gulf of Maine is called “Pollock Rip”. “Rip” as in rip tides – very strong currents that can set up large waves when the current runs against the normal waves. As with Woods Hole, Pollock Rip is best navigated near slack tide, and only in settled weather.

We estimated that it would take us about six hours to reach the Rip from Vineyard Haven. Slack tide on Tuesday (when we anticipated a good weather window) was at about 6pm which meant that we should be underway sometime around noon. Tuesday morning arrived and the weather still looked good. The forecast was for light winds, mostly southwest. Not the greatest for sailing but at least there were no headwinds in the forecast.

We said our goodbyes to our friends at Gannon and Benjamin, had a shower ashore, took the dogs for their last shore leave and were underway by 12:30. We motored our way out Vineyard Haven harbour and into Nantucket Sound and turned to the northeast, towards Pollock Rip and home for our final passage of the trip. We reached the Rip as planned at about 5:30pm, just as the tide was turning slack and then in our favour. Actually, it seems that we were a bit early because the current was still against us, but no more than a knot. We motored through the Rip and out into the Atlantic uneventfully. We altered course slightly to aim for the southwest corner of Nova Scotia and carried on.

The trip went smoothly Tuesday and Wednesday with less wind than predicted and more motoring and motorsailing than expected. On Wednesday afternoon we saw a pod of whales spouting just ahead of us, and one huge guy breach. Now normally that would be pretty exciting and we’d hope to get closer before they disappeared. In this case, however, I had just finished reading an article about a whale who had an itchy back and decided that the bottom of a keelboat looked just about perfect as a backscratcher. The boat was severely damaged and barely made it into port. As we were in the middle of the Gulf of Maine and at least 100 miles from land, I wasn’t sure that we would be so lucky. Fortunately the whales seemed to be well scratched and carried on without bothering us.

Wednesday afternoon around 5pm we re-entered Canadian waters, and had the obligatory “pop” to celebrate. At around 10pm we heard a coast guard message, which was then repeated in French – we were getting there! By the time we approached the corner of Nova Scotia the fog set in and we knew we were almost home. In five trips around this corner we have never seen the Brazil Rock buoy that marks the route. We have seen it on radar as close as a quarter mile, but we have never seen it by eye.

As we rounded the corner the wind filled in from the northeast (our heading, of course) and the seas started to build. Not really feeling like beating into the wind and waves for another twenty hours or so to make it all the way home, we decided to head into Shelburne instead. We altered course and after about six fairly unpleasant hours we turned into the bay leading to Shelburne. Two more hours of motoring and we arrived. While circling around the harbour trying to find a place to dock some people waved us in to the wall at the yacht club where we were officially welcomed.

We called in to customs and they were on their way. We called in for a pizza and it was on its way. We took the dogs for a stroll and all was right with the world.

When customs arrived, while they weren’t overly concerned with our arrival they did ask a lot of questions about other boats that we had seen and heard on our journey from Martha’s Vineyard. We didn’t think much of it at the time. The next day the RCMP made two trips down to the docks looking at the boats and asking us if we had seen anyone come in (which we hadn’t). This seemed a bit odd. Oh well, maybe they just like boats.

We spent Friday wandering around town, had a nice lunch at the pub and headed off into light airs at around 5pm for our final overnighter to home. As we motored out the bay we saw another boat heading in. They were sailing, which we thought rather odd because there was very little wind, we were running out of daylight and they obviously were just arriving from a passage. We heard them radio Shelburne Yacht Club asking if someone could meet them with some diesel as they had run out and would need it to dock once they arrived in town. A bit of poor planning on their part that they didn’t save a jerry can or two of fuel for their arrival, but at least we now knew why they were sailing.

It was the next day that we heard on the news about the sailboat that arrived at Shelburne with eight illegal immigrants aboard. It seems that the authorities had been watching it but it arrived later than anticipated because of “mechanical” (or fuel?) problems? Finally an answer to the odd behaviour by the police and customs agents.

Our journey home was relatively uneventful, other than the headwinds that developed overnight even though the forecast was for tailwinds. I can see how a forecast a few days out can be wrong, but how can the forecasters get it so wrong only a few hours in advance? Oh well, art not science!

As we were motoring up Tanner’s Pass just before the turn into our cove, what do we hear on the radio but the call “Malolo, Malolo, Malolo. This is Malolo base”. We both broke out laughing. It was our friends on our dock with a handheld VHF calling to see where were. We told them to wait a minute and they’d see our masts approaching the corner. As we arrived at the dock we were met by our good friends Bruce and Beverly and Paul and Margie, along with some bubbly, beer and food. Our neighbour Ricky showed up shortly afterwards with a six pack of our favourite Propeller Bitter.

Now for Donna and I, having just completed the overnight sail, the morning kind of becomes part of the night and having a beer or two isn't so bad. For our friends, however, who just woke up and ate breakfast, well, I don't know, but we sure appreciated it!

Our trip was fantastic. Our theme song for this trip was Jimmy Buffet’s “One Particular Harbour” (guess which harbour?), much better than last trip’s “Six Months in a Leaky Boat”. We had wonderful experiences, met some great people and made some long term friends. But it’s still great to be home.

Howard and Donna (and Storm and Zephyr)
Sitting in our nice, stable, dry home in Stonehurst, NS

Current Position 44 22.21N 064 13.27W

Well, this is it. The final chapter in our saga. I’m sitting here at my desk using a full size keyboard and screen instead of a laptop balanced on my, well, lap. I’m looking out over our cove and the Atlantic Ocean. Much more comfortable than the boat, but not nearly as much fun!

When we arrived home, the dogs hit the shore running and were very quickly back to their old routines as if they had never been gone. The only difference is that they pay a lot more attention to the boat now, climbing on and off regularly wondering when we’re heading off again. One day I turned the ignition on (which makes a buzzer go) and both dogs looked up expectantly waiting for the engine to start. They’re ready to go at the drop of a hat (or maybe “cat”, as you’ll read later).

Donna and I are settling back in, cleaning up the mess we left behind when we left in such a rush in the fall and catching up on things left undone. Our neighbours are obviously glad to see us, judging by the number of lobsters, scallops and fish that they have given us since we’ve been home. I think we’ve had more lobster in the past two weeks than we normally have in a season.

One of the purposes of this trip, in addition to taking the boat back to her original home port of Man O’War, was to decide whether we wanted to carry on fixing her up and cruising her, or sell her and get a “sensible” boat. While away we constantly talked and thought about it. We even went so far as to write a “break-up” list itemizing the value of each item that we could sell if she went to scrap. Not that we planned on scrapping her, but it was a way to put a value on her “parts”.

After lots of back and forth, we’ve pretty well decided that we’ll do our best to fix her up. We’ve started a list of what needs to be done and are now working on a plan to do it. We hope to complete everything (or at least everything that’s actually going to get done) over the next 14 months or so, and then head back down to the Bahamas in 2009.

We had a fantastic trip, met great people and saw wonderful sights. We were very pleased with the boat (except for the leaking decks) and all of the improvements that we made before we left. While the problems that we did have made for fun reading (and writing), in fact everything worked quite well and we had very few problems.

I had always thought that the only reason to cruise the Bahamas was to avoid having to go offshore to the Caribbean – it was the “sissy” cruise. While you certainly do meet many people there who do not want to go offshore, and many, many more who don’t have the knowledge or experience to safely cruise the Bahamas, let alone the Caribbean (have GPS, will travel), I learned that it really is a fantastic cruising destination. In fact, from my fading recollection of cruising the Caribbean, I would choose the Bahamas. The wind, and therefore the sailing, isn’t as good in the Bahamas, but the cruising grounds are more interesting and beautiful. We look forward to returning.

Now back to our story. We left Elizabeth City as planned late in the afternoon on Friday, May 9. We headed under the bridge and into the Dismal Swamp. The first part of the journey was along a winding river that is reasonably wide and deep, as long as you stay in the middle. About 2 miles from Elizabeth City is a railway swing bridge that is marked on the chart as “normally open”. As we approached the normally open bridge we could see no way through. Apparently we arrived at an abnormal time.

There was no evidence of a bridge tender or anyone else around so we tried radioing the bridge but received no reply. I called the Elizabeth City bridge and he gave me a telephone number for the railway company that operates the bridge. We finally got through to the right person and they informed us that they were jockeying a train and the bridge would be opening in about 10 minutes.

About 20 minutes later a short train slowly crossed the bridge and we thought we’d be on our way. Not yet. Another 30 minutes passed and another (I think different but can’t be sure) short train crossed the bridge in the other direction. Once across, someone got off the train and walked slowly (and I mean painfully slow) back to the bridge where he proceeded to hand crank the bridge open. It seems that this is the last remaining hand operated rail bridge in the US! Finally on our way. Fortunately we weren’t planning on traveling too far so the delay didn’t really hurt us.

We carried on up the river to the first lock (called “South Mills”), which marked the entrance to the man-made Dismal Swamp Canal. We tied up to two “dolphins” (strong pilings in the water designed for that purpose) just outside the lock where we spent the night, ready for the first lock opening at 8:30 the next morning. The idea was that we would be ahead of the ten or so boats that we anticipated would be leaving Elizabeth City in the morning. Because of the distance to the lock, and the fact that it’s not very safe to travel these waters in the dark, we knew that they would not be able to make the 8:30 opening and we’d have a good head-start on them.

We spent a beautiful night on the canal and were raring to go at 8:30. Our plan worked nicely with only one power boat joining us for the 8:30 opening. As we locked through we could see a catamaran from Elizabeth City steaming full speed ahead for the lock, but he was 15 minutes too late. I would guess that he wasn’t a happy camper!

We had been warned by other boaters that when traveling through the canal, not only do you have to watch out for shallows and floating debris, you also have to watch overhead to ensure that the rig doesn’t snag overhanging trees. As it turned out we had no problems and quite enjoyed the journey.

We traveled slowly through the canal because we had plenty of time to get to the second lock (called “Deep Creek” and marking the end of the canal) before its scheduled opening at 1:30pm. We arrived at the lock at about 12:45pm and tied up to wait for the opening. The only potential problem that we faced was that the last opening before rush hour (rush hour for cars, not boats) of the “Jordon Bridge”, about 14 miles past the lock, was at 3:30pm. If we didn’t make it by then, we would have to wait until 6pm which would limit how far we could go before dark. Depending on currents and how long we had to wait for other bridges, it could be touch and go.

As we waited in the lock for the ride down to sea level, Donna mentioned our predicament to the lock keeper. He nodded and kept walking. On his next walk-by, he simply said to Donna, without stopping, “it’s Saturday”. And so it was – no rush hour on Saturday, no bridge opening restrictions, no problem.

Once the lock opened we carried on towards Norfolk, waiting for another “normally open” railway bridge to open and even making it to the Jordon Bridge at about 3:29. If it had been a weekday with restrictions, we would have been hoping that the bridge keeper was having a good day so that he would open for us. They can be quite surly at times.

On we went, passing “Mile 0” just off Norfolk marking the beginning (or in our case, the end) of the ICW at about 4:00pm. Yahoooo!

We carried on past Norfolk and across the Elizabeth River to Hampton, VA which is only a few miles from the Chesapeake, arriving at around 6:00pm. We anchored in the harbour across from the “City Docks” along with about 5 other boats. There wasn’t a lot of swinging room as the water shoals quickly on one side, but we were secure.

The forecast was for quite strong northerly winds (again) starting Sunday afternoon and lasting for a couple days. That meant that we could either stay put in Hampton to wait out the blow, or travel about 40 miles on Sunday morning before the winds picked up. After looking at the charts and seeing the ports available within a 40 mile radius, we decided to stay in Hampton. To make life easy, we took a dock at the City Marina so that we wouldn’t have to dinghy through the chop in the harbour to get to shore. Needless to say, now that we were in colder temperatures with colder water, getting soaked in the dinghy wasn’t nearly as much fun as in the Bahamas!

We quite enjoyed our stay in Hampton, especially once we discovered the “Tap House”. Not only did they have dozens of beer on tap from around the world, they also had excellent food.

One day while sitting aboard we heard our name called on the radio. You guessed it, our friends Will and Muffin from Antares were in Willoughby Harbour across the river and figured that we’d be holed up somewhere nearby due to the weather. They had a rental car so they drove over for a nice visit.

At around 2pm one day, while the wind was howling at around 40 knots in the Bay, we heard a boat calling for SeaTow. VHF radio is definitely a spectator sport so we followed the conversation to the working channel. It seems that the boat calling had just arrived from Puerto Rico and simply could not get through the “Bay Bridge” that crosses the Chesapeake near its mouth. Bridges can have a huge effect on the seas near them because they partially block the flow of water, channeling it all through the openings between the bridge abutments.

It seems that with the wind and sea conditions, this boat simply could not sail, motor or motorsail through the opening in the bridge. They had been trying since 6am! Imagine that, making a passage of several days, traveling some 1500 miles and then stuck because they could not get through a bridge at the end of the journey. We’re not sure how they eventually got through, but at around 6:00pm we heard them calling the marina for a slip. Needless to say, they sounded exhausted.

The weather was as bad as predicted and we ended up staying in Hampton until Wednesday morning, when we finally left to travel north up the Chesapeake. Us and about two dozen other boats! As we headed out the Elizabeth River at first light, we counted at least 25 other cruising boats heading out of the various ports and marinas.

We had no real plan for the day, other than to travel as far as we could. We had been in touch with Bonnie and Maury, our friends from “Smidge”, and tentatively arranged to meet them at their home base marina in Rock Hall to race with them Friday afternoon and spend the weekend. Rock Hall is about 130 miles from Hampton so that meant we had a couple of long days ahead.

Of course the winds had died right off so we motorsailed for a while, then had to take the sails down and motor in the leftover waves from the strong winds of the past few days. We had a current against us and didn’t make good time, but we did make it all the way to the Little Wicomico River at the south side of the mouth of the Potomac River by 6:00pm, a distance of about 50 miles. There wasn’t enough daylight left to make it the next safe harbour, so we anchored for the night. It was a beautiful spot with lots of creeks and coves to explore. Definitely one for the “next time” list.

Early the next morning we were on our way north once again. By now the waves had settled down to a flat calm with absolutely no wind. We motored our way up the Bay, this time with the current in our favour letting us make good time. We were in radio contact with our friends on Antares, who’s home port is just south of Annapolis. They live in a community that has their own marina on the South River and they invited us to tie up there for the night.

We were ahead of them because they hadn’t gone as far as us the day before, stopping to visit friends. They told us that their marina was in Duvall Creek off South River and that we should just proceed on in. We got out our cruising guide and this is what it had to say:

“Of all the South River’s many tributaries, Duvall Creek is too intricate for the stranger. It runs out of water quite suddenly, and only a native or a mystic can work out the meaning of the privately placed markers.”

We radioed our friends and suggested that we would slow down and wait for them to catch up to us. Turns out the entrance isn’t too bad, but there are definitely a couple of “local knowledge” turns that you have to make.

On the way we heard a boat calling our Nova Scotia friends Andre and Olga on “Mystic Bond” (the people we visited in the Bahamas last year). We couldn’t hear their end of the conversation (spectator sport, remember?), but we knew from what we could hear that they were going to be in Rock Hall at about the same time as us. Hopefully we would meet up with them.

Once tied up, we all headed to Will and Muffin’s house, a short walk away. All was well and we were having a nice time on the deck in the backyard, when all of a sudden all hell broke loose. Flash, flash, flash – what were those streaks running by?

It turns out that Will and Muffin have a cat, which we didn’t know about because they traveled with their dog. Now those of you who know our dogs and their “affinity” for cats may have some idea what happened. Our dogs discovered the cat and immediately put chase. The first streak was the cat making a beeline for a tree, the second two were our dogs in hot pursuit. When the dust settled the cat was a good 60 feet up the tree nestled in a crook and our dogs were barking at it (but at least barking up the right tree). Put another notch in their collars!

We weren’t quite sure how the cat was going to get down, but we hoped that he would be able to do it on his own because there didn’t seem to be room to get a firetruck back there!

The next morning Will and Muffin popped by the boat and invited us over for a delicious Eggs Benedict breakfast. It seems that the cat somehow made it down during the night before the heavy rain started (maybe that was the incentive) and all was well. We left the dogs on the boat.

We got on our way at around 10:30, after the fog had cleared a bit. We had a nice sail to Rock Hall in the rain, which finally cleared just as we arrived at around 2:30. Rock Hall is a large harbour with a small opening from the Bay. The middle of the harbour is shoal except for the dredged channel through the centre and the outside is full of marinas. Most boats visiting the area anchor in Swan Creek which is a mile or so north of Rock Hall. Our friends told us that there was room for a couple of boats in Rock Hall itself and when we arrived they showed us the spot.

It was quite a small area with little swinging room because of all the docks nearby. We dropped the hook but couldn’t put out as much chain as we would have liked because of the limited space. We couldn’t get a good set on the anchor and after a short while it was apparent that we weren’t holding. We reset the anchor and this time all seemed well. In the meantime, the wind had now piped up to 20 knots or so, but we were holding fine.

At around 4:00pm we left on “Smidge” for the race. Outside the harbour the wind was blowing 25 gusting 30 knots, making it quite the exciting event. There were about seven boats in the race, ranging from large boats (“Smidge” is 43 feet) to smaller J-24’s. All had reefed sails to avoid being overpowered by the conditions. We had a great time, with several close calls due to other boats not following right of way rules, but no mishaps. While Maury and Bonnie are quite the experienced and successful racers, their crew (that would be us) are not, and our placing at the finish reflected that. Enough said.

As the wind gusted and picked up speed during the race, all we could think about was how our boat was faring at anchor. As we entered the harbour after the race, we could see that all was well. “Malolo” was sitting just where we left her. Whew.

We tied up, went and retrieved the dogs and took them for a walk, then went back to “Smidge” for a delicious dinner of crab cakes and a few rounds of dominoes. We got back to the boat around 11:30pm and all was well. About 15 minutes later, just before turning in, Donna went to the cockpit to get something. She shouted down, “we’re dragging”. Now sometimes it can look like you’re dragging but in fact the boat has just swung to a different position. I asked if she was sure and she replied “Trust me, we’re dragging”. I took that to be a “yes” and ran up to the cockpit.

As I looked around in the dark, I wasn’t sure exactly where we were, but I could see docked boats on both sides of us, which was definitely a problem. As my eyes adjusted I could see that we were moving down the channel between the two docks of boats at a fairly good speed. I started the engine and put it in gear to stop our drift while Donna raised the anchor (don’t ask, she prefers that). We motored out the channel and tied up to the empty pump out dock where we stayed nice and secure for the night. There had been no big wind gust or change, but the wind must have shifted direction enough to cause our anchor to release because the bottom was so soft. We were lucky that it happened when it did and that Donna went up to the cockpit or it could have been very serious.

Friday afternoon we made contact with our friends on board “Mystic Bond” and found out that they were in a marina on Swan Creek, a short distance away. Saturday morning we borrowed Maury’s car and headed over to see them. What a treat!

We asked them what their plans were and they said, well, at first they were planning to travel with us up the coast to Long Island Sound (which would have been great!), but instead they decided to put their boat up for sale in the Chesapeake. Huh? They have always wanted to cruise the canals of Europe and after exploring their options they decided the best thing was to sell the boat and buy a canal boat in Europe, and the Chesapeake is a good place to sell a boat. Hopefully it works out well and then we can visit them in Europe (and we’ll stay more than 3 days!).

The other news that Andre and Olga had for us was that a friend of a friend that they met cruising had a dock in Swan Creek that they may be able to use. We drove over to check it out and not only did he have one dock, he had two. He kindly offered them to us. We decided to stay one more night at the marina with “Smidge”, then head over. Andre and Olga moved “Mystic Bond” over that day.

Back at our marina, we had to move from the pump out dock to a proper slip. The docks at this marina are quite short and you have to back the boat in so that you can get on and off. It’s not easy backing a sailboat at the best of times because they tend to pull to one side or the other because of the propeller rotation. In this case, there was only about 60 feet between the rows of slips. Because the boat turns at the back end, you have to have the boat lined up straight into the slip before you can get in (unlike a car that turns at the front end). That meant that I had to line up the boat with the slip in the 60 feet. Now “Malolo” measures about 50 feet overall (including bowsprit and mizzen boom) so that doesn’t leave a lot of maneuvering room.

I put the boat in position and kept going backwards and forwards slowly moving the stern to line up with the slip (like a three point turn in a car, but about 30 turns). I finally got her all lined up with the slip and backed her in nicely. I was sweating, but we were in. Just as we were about to tie up the lines, who shows up on the dock but the dockmaster. “Sorry”, says he, “we made a mistake and you can’t stay in that slip”. He was a stocky fellow, and I’m not a violent man, so I remained relatively cool. “You can go to that slip”, pointing to another empty slip much the same as the one I just struggled to get into, “or you can tie up on the fuel dock”. Relief. The fuel dock is just a straight dock that’s easy to tie up to. Off we went.

Sunday morning we left Rock Hall for the short motor over to Swan Creek and our free dock. We tied up beside “Mystic Bond” and decided to try another cat event. You see, Andre and Olga have a cat on board that they were sure would be good with the dogs. So, at Olga’s insistence and against our better judgment, we took the dogs (on tight leashes) on board “Mystic Bond”. At first the dogs sat still and stared at the cat. Donna put Zephyr in her lap and Olga held Misty close to her face. Misty panicked, turned tail and in her haste to get away, scratched Olga. Another failed dog meets cat experiment.

After our visit with Andre and Olga, our friends from “Smidge” picked us up and took us back to Rock Hall for the afternoon’s big event. For fun, Maury sells radio controlled “Laser” sailboats and organizes Sunday afternoon races for all those who have one. He has a spare, so I got to race too. Quite a bit of fun, and not as easy as it looks. It’s amazing how well the boats perform, and how they act just like a real sailboat. Sheet in too much and the boat swings up into the wind out of control, too much sail and she heels right over. In addition, because the boat is quite a distance away as you steer it around the course, it’s very hard to tell exactly when it has passed a mark or how close it is to another boat. We had several races over the course of a couple of hours (I even won one) and had a great time.

Maury and Bonnie dropped us back at our boat on their way home to Philadelphia and we had a nice dinner on board “Mystic Bond”. The next day we headed off for Annapolis, a bit of a back track but we wanted to visit other friends who were based there, and we enjoy the town. We picked up a town mooring and stayed for a few days, once again waiting for the weather to settle down. It seems that we would get a few days of decent weather followed by a few of high winds, usually from the wrong direction. Oh well.

One of the most exciting things about being on a mooring in Annapolis is the Wednesday night race. Exciting because the finish line is up at the top of the harbour. That means that the boats have to race through the mooring field to finish the race. Now we’re not talking about small dinghies – these are 20 to 40 foot race boats roaring through. Quite the thrill to sit in the cockpit and watch as these boats coming roaring in under full sail, especially as the wind was blowing at about 20 knots.

Friday morning we were underway once more, headed north up the Chesapeake towards the C & D Canal that joins the Chesapeake to the Delaware Bay. Because the currents run strong and good current tables are hard to come by, it is very difficult to predict how fast you will go. The idea is to time it so that you carry the current with you the whole way north up the Chesapeake, through the C&D (where the current can run 3 knots and more) and south down the Delaware. Well, our timing was perfect. We roared along under full sail, arriving at the C&D (about 50 miles) at 1:30.

While motoring through the canal we noticed that there were some public docks every couple of miles. We got the bright idea that if we stopped and let the dogs ashore we wouldn’t feel so guilty traveling later into the evening, so we did. I stayed on board and fended the boat off the very rough dock wall while Donna took the dogs. As I sat there, a police boat approached. It seems that you’re not allowed to tie up to the docks. The officer was quite understanding. He said that at first he thought we were having trouble, then he saw the dogs. “When they gotta go, they gotta go”, he said and asked that we move on as soon as they were done.

We carried on out the canal and into Delaware Bay. There is a shipping channel down the middle of the Delaware that is quite deep (40 to 45 feet), while to the sides it is quite shallow (10 to 20 feet). Because much more water can move in the deeper channel, the current runs much stronger there than to the sides (same applies to any current – it’s always stronger in deeper water). The trick is, if the current is in your favour, stay in the shipping channel. If it’s going against you, stay in the shallow water. As we had the current with us, we stayed in the channel and continued along at 7 to 8 knots.

There are very few places to anchor in the Delaware, so we decided to head for the Cohansey River, about 20 miles from the C & D canal. The Cohansey is a winding river that is navigable for quite a distance. The problem is that it is very deep (30 to 40 feet) right up to its banks in most places. We arrived at around 6:00pm and motored past a couple of bends in the river to ensure that we were protected from any seas in the Bay. We searched around and found a relatively shallow spot to anchor for the night.

The shoreline was quite marshy, so we put on our boots and rowed to shore (the shore was only 100’ or so away, we didn’t bother with the engine). We stood in the muck while the dogs ran and played and did their thing, and then it was back to the boat. In the morning I noticed that the current was running quite strong, but didn’t think it was too bad. We loaded into the dinghy for shore leave and cast off. Within a few seconds we were rushing out the river with the current. I immediately canceled all shore leave and rowed as hard as I could back to the boat. It took everything that I had and more to make it, but we did.

It was another beautiful day as we headed off towards Cape May at the head of the Delaware. We had no real plan for where we were going, but the fastest way out of the Delaware is through Cape May so that’s where we headed. The current turned against us as we went, so we headed for shallow water and were able to maintain 5 ½ knots or better. As we got closer to Cape May, we saw literally hundreds of pleasure boats out fishing. It was Saturday of Memorial Day weekend and it seemed that everyone was out on the water. We motored through the Cape May canal into Cape May at around noon.

As we traveled up the Delaware our plan had developed. The weather forecast sounded good (although light air) for the next couple of days. We decided that we would head into Cape May and get fuel, which we could use but didn’t need. While at the fuel dock, Donna would walk the dogs, and then we would hoist the dinghy on deck and make the boat ready for offshore. We would then leave directly for New York City. It’s about 125 miles to Sheepshead Bay on Coney Island (our destination), so by leaving Saturday afternoon we would arrive sometime Sunday morning.

We were underway from the fuel dock at Cape May by 1:30, first under sail, then motorsail and finally motoring (seem familiar?). We had a nice passage, although there were lots of small boats out fishing all along the coast, especially early Sunday morning as we approached New York. We arrived at Sheepshead Bay at around 10:30 Sunday morning. The harbour is full of moorings and the only spot to anchor is inside a “hole” of deep water outside of the marked channel. The chart shows it quite clearly, but it is not marked so you have to feel your way in through the shallows with the depth sounder.

After we anchored in 13 feet of water a small boat sailed by and asked if we were ok. We assured him that we were. He asked if we were aground, and again, we assured him that we were fine. “Well, you’re gonna be aground at low tide”, he said. Hmmm, we’re in 13 feet, the tidal range is about 5 feet and we draw 5 feet. Seems like lots of water. We spent the night (and didn’t run aground), leaving the next morning for the run through Hell Gate and into Long Island Sound.

The route to Long Island Sound is up the Hudson River to the East River at the south end of Manhattan, then along the East River to the Sound. It’s a beautiful trip, past the Statue of Liberty, the buildings of Manhattan, Riker’s Island and more. Along the way, you have to pass through the infamous Hell Gate. This is a section of the East River where the current can run up to 5 knots and there are many eddies because of the curves in the river. Obviously timing is critical here.

We left Sheepshead Bay early enough to ensure that we would arrive at Hell Gate just past slack water (no current), but turning in our favour. This timing would make it easy to pass through, and also give us a favourable current all the way into Long Island Sound. We met up with two other boats in the East River and traveled with them through Hell Gate and into the Sound.

As it was Memorial Day, and a beautiful day, there were hundreds of boats out in the Sound. We set sail and started heading for Oyster Bay, our destination for the night. Along the way I noticed a very pretty wooden gaff-rigged schooner up ahead. They turned towards us, then away, then back again. Odd, I thought. They sailed past us, then turned and sailed in our direction right alongside, only about 100 feet away. They didn’t say anything, so I yelled over and said what a nice boat she was. One of the crew yelled back that the helmsman of their boat was Nathaniel Stimson. We bought our boat from David Stimson, Nathaniel’s father and had met Nathaniel several times. We yelled back that we were just returning from the Bahamas. That was all that was said, Nathaniel never said a word, they just sailed alongside us taking pictures. We knew he was shy, but this was extreme!

Oyster Bay is a very nice harbour, lined with large homes and full of boats. As the winds were forecast to pipe up that night, we thought we would see about taking a mooring rather than dropping the anchor. I radioed the marina and was assigned a mooring ball. I naively asked the price and was told $1.50 per foot. That’s $65 for “Malolo”, just to tie to a mooring ball – welcome to Long Island. I said thanks, but no thanks, and we found a nice spot to anchor.

When we were making our way into Oyster Bay we saw another beautiful wooden schooner leaving, but didn’t see her name. As we sat enjoying the anchorage, we heard a boat calling “Brilliant”. Now THE “Brilliant” is a beautiful schooner that is based at Mystic Seaport (not that far away). “Brilliant” responded and said that she had just left Oyster Bay. Mystery solved. She returned to Oyster Bay later in the evening and picked up a mooring.

Tuesday morning off we went for the short trip to Port Jefferson, our next port of call. As we motored out the bay, Donna thought she heard something not quite right with the engine. She looked in the compartment and casually asked if the alternator is supposed to be sparking. Well, no, not really I said and quickly went to have a look. It seemed that the metal bracket that held our smaller alternator (we have two) had broken through and the sparking was the two ends of the bracket vibrating against each other. I disconnected the alternator and all was well again.

Our friend Larry Brown lives near Port Jefferson and we had arranged to meet up with him. One of the arms of land that protects Port Jefferson is called Mount Misery (not sure why) and inside that arm is a “hole” with about 50 private moorings. These moorings are used by local boats that show up for the weekend, so during the week, especially off-season, they are empty and can be used by visitors. When we arrived the harbour was empty except for a catamaran from Florida. We picked up a mooring and headed to shore to meet up with Larry.

We spent two nights at Mount Misery, visiting with Larry and enjoying the beautiful sand beaches that surround the anchorage. On Thursday we left the New York side of the Sound and headed for the Thimble Islands just off the Connecticut shore. This group of small islands are all private, with some very interesting summer homes built on them. One of the larger islands has about 30 homes, while the others typically have only one or two.

After we dropped the hook and were secure, we discovered that our dinghy engine wouldn’t start. It was way too far to row to the only place we could see that we could take the dogs ashore, so I started seeing what I could do to get the engine started. As I was working on it, a woman in a Whaler with a couple of other people and a bunch of branches came by and made a comment about our troubles. I mentioned that it was ok, but we really wanted to get the dogs ashore. She said no problem, she’d be right back.

Sure enough, a few minutes later she was back, minus the crew and branches, and took Donna and the dogs ashore to the island where she lived (the big one with the 30 houses). Seems that she does maintenance work for some of the other islanders and loves dogs. I managed to get the engine working (used some brass wire to clean out the carburetor jets), and while it wouldn’t idle very well, it would run.

The next morning we headed off for Fishers Island, where we spent the night at anchor. On Saturday, after the thunderstorms passed through, we made the short trip to Stonington, Connecticut, picking up a mooring there around 11:00am. We spent two nights there, waiting for yet another weather system to pass so that we could head out of the protection of the Sound and on to Cuttyhunk Island near the entrance to Buzzard’s Bay. We had hoped to stop at Block Island on the way, but the weather wasn’t cooperating. We enjoyed Stonington, which is a very pretty town, but the anchorage is quite rolly and uncomfortable.

On Monday we headed off for Cuttyhunk and had a nice trip through Block Island Sound, Rhode Island Sound past Newport and finally in to Cuttyhunk, arriving around 5:30pm. As we entered Buzzard’s Bay, we were watching a tug towing a barge that was heading out the Bay towards us. We got closer and closer until we were within a couple of miles. Now these tows don’t maneuver very well, so it is most prudent to stay out of their way. On the other hand it would have taken us half an hour or more to alter course and head at a safe distance behind the tug (there is a huge wash behind them so you can’t pass too close). I radioed the tug to make sure that he saw us and to see if we should alter course. His answer? “Hold your course and speed, I THINK you’ll make it”. Not exactly the best answer, but we followed orders and made it past.

Cuttyhunk is obviously a popular destination in season, because it is full of moorings, pilings for rent, and all kinds of signs about what you can and can’t do. Fortunately we were there off season and not on a weekend, so we had the mooring field to ourselves. Even so, the harbourmaster came out to collect his $45.

The moorings in Cuttyhunk are unlike any I’ve seen. There is a normal mooring ball, but instead of a rope pendant, there is a solid pipe sticking up about 5 feet out of the ball. The “pendant” comes out through the top of the pipe with a thimble sticking up. You grab the pipe and attach your own line through the eye. Different, but works well. The other interesting thing is that the mooring field looks just like a parking lot for cars – neatly spaced mooring balls with pipes sticking up that look just like parking meters.

We enjoyed our stay in Cuttyhunk and headed off for Onset, MA at the west end of the Cape Cod Canal around 1:15pm on Tuesday. There is strong current in Buzzard’s Bay, and by leaving in the afternoon it was turning in our favour.

The fun part entering Onset is that from the channel leading up to the Cape Cod Canal you have to make a 90 degree turn into a fairly narrow channel that leads to Onset. That doesn’t sound so bad, until you consider that the current in the channel leading up to the Canal can be running 3 knots or better. As we approached the corner, we slowed down as much as possible while still maintaining steerage, but we were still doing over 6 knots. Before the corner we swung the wheel over, knowing that the current would carry us further down towards the channel, and gave it full power to get us out of the now sideways current as quickly as possible. Worked like a charm.

Leaving Onset the next morning wasn’t nearly as difficult because we were turning from the narrow channel into the wider Cape Cod Canal. We sped through the canal at speeds up to 10 knots (we actually had to slow down because there is a 10 MPH speed limit), arriving at the Sandwich Marina at the east end for fuel around 7:00am. We filled up and were on our way for Provincetown before 8:00 in flat calm and rain. We arrived around noon and picked up a mooring. Our last port before heading for home!

We had been watching the weather forecasts, and if they didn’t change too much it looked like we would have a window for the 2 ½ to 3 day passage starting Friday morning. The winds were forecast to be quite strong from the east (our basic direction of travel) for Wednesday and Thursday morning, then dying down and finally turning towards the south by Thursday night. The forecast towards Nova Scotia was for southerlies until Sunday night. Looked perfect.

As the weather was miserable when we arrived in Provincetown, we only went ashore for brief excursions to walk the dogs. It was so cold and wet that we even had a fire going in the woodstove. Thursday was a little nicer so we spent more time ashore. Most of the locals that we talked to were quick to inform us that “Provincetown is a gay town, you know”, but the best line was from one person who said that the “straight” people are known as “the breeders”.

The weather forecast still looked good so we prepared the boat for the trip home which meant hoisting the dinghy on deck, stowing everything, and of course, picking up a large pizza to eat on watch!

Friday morning we did one last weather check and all looked good. The wind had died down as predicted and the forecast was still for southerlies to develop. We knew that there would be leftover seas from the easterlies that had been blowing for the past couple of days, but if we waited for them to die down we would miss our opportunity to leave because northerlies were forecast for late Sunday and Monday.

We were underway by 6:00am. As we rounded the east end of Cape Cod we started feeling the effects of the easterlies. It was a lumpy ride and unfortunately there wasn’t any wind so we had to motor through it with no sails to steady the ride. By about 10:00am the wind started filling in from the SE and we were able to sail along at a decent clip. The seas settled down and became a bit more regular so the ride was smoother.

By about 6:30 that evening the wind died and once again we were motoring, but now the seas had settled even more. The ride was rolly, but not too uncomfortable. Through the night a couple of ships crossed our paths (at a safe distance) and at 4:10am we crossed the Hague Line and were officially back in Canada. At about 7:30 Saturday morning we crossed paths with a southbound sailboat and at around 8:30 the southbound “Pacific Venus” cruise ship passed nearby.

We motorsailed on towards Brazil Rock off the southeast tip of Nova Scotia in rolly, but not unpleasant conditions. Our speed varied from 4 ½ to 7 knots, depending on the current which was very unpredictable. Remember, this where the water that creates the 30 to 40 foot Bay of Fundy tides flows in and out. By 10:00pm Saturday night our speed dropped to about 3 ½ knots and visibility was near zero (and not because it was dark!). It seemed like we would never get home!

On the radar we could see a boat heading towards us. We watched him closely for a couple of miles to make sure that we were going to miss each other. When we were about a mile apart, the other boat, a fishing boat, radioed to say that he saw us on his radar (which was good to know, because that’s always a question with a non-steel boat) and that we should maintain our course. Once he was abeam of us and about ½ a mile away, he radioed to say that we were clear and he was going to “shoot his gear”. Donna thought he said “shoot a deer”, but we eventually figured out that he was going to set his trawl behind him.

At 11:15pm we finally passed by Brazil Rock (not that we could see it or the buoys) and our speed started picking up. At 2:00am we were doing 6.4 knots. Looking out the side of the boat we saw a most amazing phenomenon – you could actually see the shadow of our sails against the fog, cast by our steaming light halfway up the mast. I had never seen anything like that before, and I must say that I much preferred seeing the shadow of our sails on the bottom of the ocean in the Bahamas.

At 3:00am there was an insistent beeping coming from our chart plotter. Knowing that we couldn’t possibly be at our waypoint, this wasn’t going to be good news. Sure enough, the message “Can’t aquire signal” was flashing on the screen. We had a similar problem on our Newfoundland trip and we ended up having to get (under warranty, fortunately) a new GPS sender, so my hopes weren’t high that this was a temporary problem.

Now we knew roughly where we were because I always keep a manual record, and we knew the heading that we had to go to stay in clear water. We also had a backup hand-held GPS that could give us our lat/lon, speed and course. And we had paper charts. Even with all of that, it still was very unnerving to be in the thick of fog, in the middle of the night, off a fairly unfriendly shore (because of the rocks, not the people) cruising along at 6 knots. Well, all was not lost. I turned off the unit, let it sit for a few minutes and powered it back up. Worked fine for the rest of the trip!

We continued on our way up the coast in the fog, making decent time and looking forward to our arrival at home. Because we were arriving from the US, we had to clear customs. Technically, the procedure is to go to a port of entry (Lunenburg is one and Shelburne to the south is another) and call customs. They will then decide whether they will clear you by telephone or send an officer out to inspect the boat. We really didn’t want to have to go all the way into Lunenburg and then back out again (round trip of about 10 miles), especially in the thick fog.

Instead, we telephoned customs while underway and explained that we had just arrived from the US and thought that we were supposed to report in as soon as possible. The agent explained the proper procedure, I sighed and said that we really weren’t keen on going into Lunenburg in the fog. He said “alright, let’s do it this way” and proceeded to take our information and clear us by phone. Another yahooo!

As we sailed past West Ironbound Island, which is about 10 miles south of home, we actually could make out the land. It seemed that the fog was lifting! Well, for about 15 minutes it seemed that the fog was lifting, then it set in thick as ever. We passed within ½ mile of Cross Island and couldn’t see a thing. We passed within ¼ mile of a buoy and couldn’t see a thing. We arrived at the “groaner” that marks the entrance to our channel. At least we knew that we had arrived because we could hear it and I could see it on radar. The fog was so thick that we couldn’t make out the buoy until we were literally within arm’s reach of it.

Now the channel in to where we live is relatively narrow and is lined with rocks barely awash on one side, and rocky islands to the other. I don’t have much experience going in and out the channel in reduced visibility (as in, no experience) and certainly not in zero visibility. And that’s when the most embarrassing moment of the trip took place.

No, we didn’t hit a rock that close to home, nor did we run aground. No, it was far worse than that. At Donna’s insistence, we telephoned our fisherman neighbour Ricky and asked him if he would guide us in. We stayed close to the buoy waiting for him to appear through the fog. As I said to Donna, I wasn’t sure how were going to follow him because to be close enough to see him we would almost have to be touching his boat. I also wasn’t sure how we would find him when he came out.

And then a funny thing happened. We saw Ricky approaching. We SAW him approaching. Looking around, I realized that I could now see the buoy relatively clearly. In fact, by the time we turned to follow Ricky in the fog had completely lifted and it was a beautiful sunny day. And that’s how we ended our Bahamas adventure.

Howard and Donna (and Storm and Zephyr)
At home, Stonehurst, NS

Current Position 36 17.90N 076 13.10W

We’re sitting here in Elizabeth City, NC at the south end of the Dismal Swamp Canal (sounds appealing, eh?) waiting for some severe thunderstorms (chance of tornado!) to pass by before heading up the canal.

We stayed in Lake Worth waiting for the northerly winds to ease. Finally, after a week there was a break in the forecast that looked good for heading north. Unfortunately it was only going to last a couple of days so we didn’t have time to go all the way to Charleston. We reverted to plan B and left on the evening of Saturday April 19 for St Augustine, a passage of about 200 miles. The trip was an uneventful mix of motoring, sailing and motor-sailing and we arrived at about 8am on Monday morning.

As we entered the inlet, we were hailed on the radio by “Antares”, a boat that we had met on the way south and run into a couple of times in the Bahamas. Looking up, I saw them about 100 yards from us heading north up the ICW. That wasn’t the last that we would see of them.

We had learned from our trip south that the ideal place to anchor in St Augustine is up close to the bridge just north of the marina because it is a much shorter dinghy ride in, and the waters can build quite a chop making it a wet ride. As we approached we picked out a spot amongst the anchored boats but before we got there a large catamaran beat us to it. Instead, we ended up anchoring within a 100 feet of where we were on the way south. Fortunately a couple of boats cleared out the next day and we were able to re-anchor closer in.

We spent a few days in St Augustine, had a nice dinner and visit with our friend Margo and enjoyed walking around town. Unfortunately the weather was blowing strong from the north, making the anchorage quite rough and preventing us from moving on to Charleston. On Thursday (April 24) we decided to take the plunge and motor up the ICW to Cumberland Island at the Georgia-Florida border instead of staying put waiting for the winds to change. Cumberland is a national park and we had heard that it was quite beautiful, plus it was just off an inlet that would let us head for Charleston when the weather permitted.

We actually enjoyed the 60 mile trip through the ICW because there were very few other boats, and it was kind of fun seeing all the crazy houses and dock structures on the waterway. There was only one lift bridge and it opened “on demand”, so we didn’t have to wait around for scheduled openings. We arrived at the anchorage off Cumberland at about 6:30 that evening.

Once we were settled we took the dogs ashore and saw for ourselves why we had heard so much about the island. It is a beautiful, forested island with walking trails throughout and a huge sand beach on the Atlantic side. There are the ruins of a huge estate that used to be owned by the Carnegie family, who donated most of the island to the state for use as a National Seashore park. We spent Friday wandering the trails and beach for several hours.

Saturday morning we were underway by 6:45 for Charleston, taking advantage of a couple of days of favourable weather. We motored and motor-sailed in light air the whole way to Charleston (did I mention that our engine is VERY loud), arriving at 9:30 Sunday morning. As we entered the inlet, once again we heard “Antares” on the radio and once again they were just leaving to continue north. Ships passing in the night (or morning, as the case may be).

As we saw in St Augustine, the anchorage was very crowded. We managed to squeeze in between a couple of boats, but knowing the way the tidal current flows through the anchorage we weren’t very happy with our spot. We stayed aboard until the current shifted and we ensured that we were not going to run anyone down, then took the dogs ashore for their long-awaited shore break. We didn’t stay off the boat long because the wind was picking up and we were concerned about our anchoring situation.

The next day (Monday) we were able to move when a couple of boats left and, while not perfect, we were in a more secure spot. It was raining and the wind was still blowing quite strongly so we only went to shore to walk the dogs.

Finally, on Tuesday the wind settled down and the rain stopped. We spent the day walking around town, and of course ended up at our favourite spot for a snack. On our way south, we had asked a bartender in a pub where to get a good pizza and he sent us to Andolini’s, which we loved. Well, we had been talking about Andolini’s pizza since the Abacos and we weren’t going to miss the chance to partake. In addition to great pizza, they have a back patio where they let us enjoy our pizza and beverage of choice with the dogs.

While sitting at anchor, we noticed that the fellow on the boat next to us was having a bit of trouble while hauling up his anchor. He was standing on his bow looking down at his anchor with a perplexed look on his face. As I looked over, I noticed that his anchor was hanging off his bow roller as it should, but that there was still a line hanging down (not as it should). I yelled over to him to see if we could help him by coming over in our dinghy and he said that the anchor off his roller was not his. It seems that his anchor chain had snagged another anchor and that’s what he had on his bow.

I quickly looked more closely to make sure that it wasn’t our anchor that he had pulled up, and it wasn’t! I went over in the dinghy and helped him untangle the mess so that he could continue pulling up the chain and get his anchor aboard. He kindly offered me the “spare” that he pulled up and I gladly accepted. It’s a good anchor but too small for our boat but will work well for the Eun Mara (the 20’ sailboat that I’m building).

On Wednesday the weather looked good for our passage to Beaufort, so we made our plans to leave late afternoon when the current became favourable. Part of our pre-departure preparations included a return visit to Andolini’s where we bought a large pizza, ate a slice each and packaged up the rest for the passage. Pizza is great passage food, as long as you’re not prone to seasickness (it’s a bit greasy if you are!). It’s good for breakfast, lunch, dinner and a midnight snack – what could be better?

We raised the anchor and got underway at around 4:45 Wednesday afternoon. The wind was from the south at around 10 knots so it looked pretty good for sailing (slowly, but sailing). Unfortunately, the wind died down by around 7:30pm and we were soon motor-sailing and then motoring. We went through Frying Pan Shoals off of Cape Fear at around 1pm on Thursday and the wind started to pick up from the SSE. We set sail once again and were able to sail at about 5 knots until 8:30 that evening, when the wind died down. We motored the rest of the way to Beaufort, arriving at daybreak Friday morning.

As we motored through the crowded anchorage we remembered our last visit when the Coast Guard made us move because, although we weren’t in anyone’s way we were technically not in the official anchorage. There weren’t any “legal” spots, so we continued up Taylor Creek looking for a place to anchor. The first opening we saw was about a mile up the creek so we decided to head back to the main anchorage and take our chances with the Coast Guard. We found a decent spot and dropped the hook, looking forward to some well deserved rest. But it was not to be.

As we got settled aboard we received a radio call from our friend Trish Barr. We last saw the Barr’s on their boat “Road to the Isles” in Charleston. They were leaving the morning after us, heading for Beaufort, where they were hauling out for the summer. They got a good deal on a one-way rental van so Trish was driving up the coast while the rest of the crew sailed the boat up. Trish had arrived the night before and stayed in waterfront hotel. When she woke up and looked out her window, there we were. We invited her to spend the afternoon on the boat with us waiting for her boat to arrive.

Shortly after talking with Trish, we heard the call – once again, Antares calling us. This time, they were just heading in to Beaufort and were calling “on spec” thinking that we might be in the area. Because we were, they decided to pull in and stay for the night, so that was something else for us to do.

Lastly, we had arranged for a couple of packages to be shipped to our friend Mike who lives nearby and we met up with him to catch up on things and get the packages. We’d have to catch up on our sleep at night because we were way too busy during the day.

As we sat on the boat mid-morning we saw the Coast Guard boat moving up the channel. They stopped at a couple of boats just beyond us and those boats then raised anchor to move. The Coasties set their sights on us and started our way. Looked like we were going to get “the hook”. As they approached, one of the Coasties yelled over to us and said that he just wanted us to know that we were ok where we were but to not move back into the channel any further. Yahoooooo – we were all set! I noted it in the log book in case a different officer had other ideas.

While we were sitting aboard with Trish in the afternoon, we received a call from Road to the Isles saying that they were a few hours out and asking about the anchoring situation in the creek. Well, they are a 70’ boat and need quite a bit of room and there really wasn’t much space, except maybe way up the creek. Trish wanted them to anchor in the creek so she insisted that I tell them that they could find a spot no problem. Donna suggested that I let Trish tell them herself so that I wouldn’t be held responsible, but being the gentleman that I am I passed the word along.

Road to the Isles arrived around 6pm and squeezed into a spot up the creek that really wasn’t big enough for them. As the tide shifted, they would swing and block the channel until the tide swung totally around. Don Barr made mention of the fact that I had said that there was room and, once again being the gentleman that I am I quickly pointed out that Trish made me say it. But it was to work out well in the end (although I didn’t get credit).

That night we didn’t notice Road to the Isles’ anchor light and thought that odd. The next morning, we could see her masts close to the Beaufort shore, rather than where they had anchored. Hmmmm. We went for a walk with the dogs (and Antares and their dog) and saw Road to the Isles smartly tied up to a private wharf along the waterfront. Wow, I thought, pretty gutsy of them to just tie up at someone’s wharf!

Well, it turns out that after they anchored, as Don headed for town in the dinghy to pick up Trish, a lady came out on the wharf waving wildly at him. Don thought she was going to yell at him for anchoring so close and get them to move. He headed over to the wharf and rather than yell, the lady said that when the tide shifted they would be so close to their wharf that they may as well just tie up to it. Now that’s an offer that you can’t refuse. They even offered power and water, and on Saturday fresh fish for supper that they had caught that day. When they were leaving the people gave them their phone number so that when they come back in the fall they can call and see if the dock is empty! Some people have all the luck.

Although we hadn’t planned our timing around it, there was a wooden boat festival in town on Saturday. Of course we enjoyed looking at the great boats and meeting some interesting people.

On Sunday we had arranged to meet a lady we had met in the fall who lives in Beaufort at Radio Island where there is a great beach where the dogs could run. We dinghied over and she came by car with her Portuguese Water Dog and Newf. The dogs had a great time playing and swimming (not quite a deserted Bahamian beach, but it’s all we had) and we had a nice visit with Cathy.

Back ashore we wandered down to visit the Barrs at their luxury docking accommodations. In talking, we mentioned that we were thinking about cruising Long Island Sound on the way home. Don reached into a locker and pulled out a load of charts of the area for us, and gave us lots of cruising tips for the Sound. We promised that we wouldn’t mention anything about how old the charts were, so not a word.

Monday morning the Barr’s left for the marina where they were hauling out, we did laundry and some errands and left around noon up the ICW for the Chesapeake. The current was against us, so we could only do about 4 knots, sometimes as slow as 3 rather than our normal 6. By the time we passed the marina where the Barr’s were, Road to the Isles was hauled and they were busy working at putting everything away for the season. We gave them a wave and a couple of toots on the horn and continued on our way.

We anchored in a small river off the beaten track with only one other boat. The next morning, we left early to make it as far as we could and get over the painful 200 mile motoring part of our journey as quickly as possible. We made it to the start of the Alligator-Pungo canal, which is a man-made 20 mile ditch. We didn’t have time to get through before dark, so we anchored in the creek just south of the start. There were already 4 boats at anchor, and before dark there were a total of about 15 boats. In addition, a lot of boats had stopped at the marina at Belhaven about 4 miles to the south. All of these boats would be motoring through the 100’ wide, 20 mile long ditch the next day. That’s why we love the ICW.

Once again, we got underway at first light Wednesday morning. Us and 20 other boats. We made our way along the canal being passed by the power boats and even a couple of sailboats. The highlight of the journey was our passing another sailboat (a wooden schooner). Now that was a first for us. As our speeds weren’t that different, it took about 20 minutes to get by, but by the time we got to the opening bridge about 30 miles further along we were a good half hour ahead of them so it was worthwhile.

Once through the bridge there are two routes to choose from. One is the Virginia Cut which we took on the way south. It is more direct and only has one lock. The other is the Dismal Swamp which is quite windy and has two locks. We decided to take the Dismal Swamp route because we had heard that it is quite nice and at least it would be something different. We also hoped that because most boats use the Virginia Cut it wouldn’t be as crowded. Well, maybe it’s not as crowded, but it is crowded!

We arrived at Elizabeth City at the start of the canal around 6pm on Wednesday. We had read that there are 14 complimentary docks at Elizabeth City, and as we approached Donna used the binoculars to count. Thirteen boats in slips and a bunch more tied up to seawall that is used for overflow. As we got closer we could see why there were only 13 boats – the one remaining slip was wide enough for a small canoe.

We saw a space on the wall so we rigged our fenders and docklines and made our approach. As we got closer, we saw a “Reserved” sign and “No Docking” stenciled on the wall (actually, it said “On Docking” with backwards “N”’s – I guess someone had trouble with the stencil). Disappointed, we started to turn away and get ready to head further along to an anchorage. As we did so, people ashore started waving at us to come in. We pulled up to the wall and were informed that the signs were old and that docking was allowed, so we tied up.

We quickly learned that unlike most places, Elizabeth City goes out of their way to welcome boaters. They allow boats to tie up to any seawall or city slip at no charge, they convinced a grocery store some distance away to offer free shuttle service for boaters, and they hold a cocktail party each evening for the newly arrived boaters. Actually, the idea of welcoming boaters was started 25 years ago by a couple of local residents. They would bring roses to the ladies aboard to remind them to stop and smell the roses, and became known as the Rose Buddies. Over time the tradition expanded and developed into the cocktail party. One of the founders passed away some years ago and the other just this past fall. The town has decided to continue the tradition and do a great job of it.

We have certainly enjoyed our stay here in Elizabeth City and would highly recommend it. Depending on the weather, we will probably leave late this afternoon to motor the 20 miles or so to the first lock in the Dismal Swamp. We will stay there overnight so that we are in position for the first opening tomorrow morning at 8:30, then continue on towards Norfolk and the Chesapeake. From there we will head up the Chesapeake visiting places we enjoyed on our way south and others that we missed. We also plan on meeting up with friends from our trip who are based in the area. We’re in no hurry to get back to Nova Scotia until the weather is more reasonable, which we expect will be mid-June.

Howard and Donna (and Storm and Zephyr)
On board Malolo in Elizabeth City, NC

Current Position 26 46.40N 080 03.10W

Plans? Who needs plans?! Our carefully laid out route back north through the Bahamas and across to Florida went out the window with the weather forecast. Here’s a quick update.

After spending a couple more days at Black Point while the seas and wind settled down, we headed off to Staniel Cay. On our way south, Staniel is where we spent a couple of days at the “yacht club” while waiting for our oil filters to arrive from Florida. We didn’t have a very good time because it was quite rough at the dock and we were spending most of our energy trying to get the filters. We decided to go back to give it a second chance. This time we anchored off the marina with plenty of protection from the prevailing winds. We stayed a couple of nights and had a good time relaxing, wandering the island and enjoying the hospitality of the waterfront pub.

Just off Staniel are the Thunderball Caves where the James Bond movie was filmed in 1963. We snorkeled through the caves which are quite spectacular with the sun shining through holes in the top of the caves. It seems that the filming of the movie is the biggest thing to hit Staniel, even though it happened 25 years ago. The walls of the yacht club are covered in pictures from the filming and just after we left they were having a big party to celebrate the 25th anniversary.

We left Staniel on Monday (April 7) and sailed up to Cambridge Cay at the south end of the Exuma Land and Sea Park where we took a mooring in a nice protected anchorage. We had heard that the snorkeling at Cambridge was good, and it was! The only problem was that the reefs were quite a long dinghy ride from the anchorage (over a mile) and with the strong currents running through the channels it took quite a while to get there in our little Pudgy and its 3.5 hp motor, but it was well worth the ride.

The biggest problem that we were having was that we were running out of pretty much everything. It’s not easy to find groceries in the Exumas, and what little they have is very expensive. When we were in George Town, which is the biggest centre and has a couple of grocery stores, there wasn’t much available (everything is dependent on when the supply boats come in) so we couldn’t stock up as much as we would have liked. While we were in Black Point the supply boat came in so we went to the store expecting lots of goodies. Not. There were a few new items, more cans of the same old items and a few new vegetables (notice I said “new”, not “fresh”, as in, they weren’t there before the boat came in but they certainly weren’t fresh).

On Thursday (April 10) we were listening to the weather forecast and it didn’t sound good. A cold front with strong NW winds was forecast to hit the area on Sunday and last until at least Wednesday. On top of that, the seas from the front would not settle down until at least Saturday meaning that we would not be able to head over to Florida until some time after that. We decided that the best plan would be to leave and head back south a few miles to Sampson Cay where we heard they had a store that wasn’t too bad. We thought we could buy enough to see us through until we made it to Florida.

After looking at the weather forecast a bit more, we realized that there was a good opportunity to get to Florida before the front if we could figure out a route to get us there before sunset Saturday when the cold front was expected. We reviewed the charts and came up with a plan. We left Cambridge around 1330 on Thursday, headed north past Nassau, past the bottom end of the Berries across the Bahama Banks and finally across the Florida Straights to Lake Worth (Palm Beach) where we arrived at first light Saturday. We didn’t see another boat until early Friday morning when we passed by Chub Cay at the bottom of the Berries. All of a sudden we were in a line of about 12 boats leaving Chub and making their way to Florida to take advantage of the weather.

All in all, the trip was some 250 miles and took 41 hours of mostly motorsailing but reasonable (sometimes rocky) conditions.

We're now at a marina in Lake Worth where we'll sit until at least the weekend waiting for the front to blow through (and it's blowing pretty good!), doing our reprovisioning and relaxing. As a bonus, while sitting here with the VHF radio on, we heard the boat “Road to the Isles” owned by our friends the Barr’s from Nova Scotia hail another boat. We called them back on the radio and found out that they are anchored in Lake Worth. They came in for a visit and we had a good time trading stories (some mostly true) and catching up.

Hopefully by Saturday or Sunday we'll get a good window to head north. We haven't decided if we'll do a 200 mile or so hop to the top of Florida (St Augustine or Fernandina Beach), or take advantage of the Gulf Stream and go all the way to Charleston (about 370 miles). I guess we'll see what the forecast looks like, because we know what plans are worth!

Howard and Donna (and Storm and Zephyr)
On board Malolo in Lake Worth, Florida

Current Position 24 05.90N 076 24.17W

Well, it’s official - as the song says, we’ve now spent “six months on a leaky boat”. Not that it leaks THAT much. We just have to run the bilge pump a couple of times a day and put up umbrellas down below when it rains, but that’s another story. We’re loving it.

We’re at anchor off the small settlement of Black Point on Great Guana Cay in the Exumas (not to be confused with Great Guana Cay in the Abacos where we were a couple of months ago) waiting as some strong weather passes through.

We finally left Warderick Wells on March 11 once the weather settled down. We enjoyed the rest of our stay, hiking around the island on the (very) rough trails and doing some more snorkeling. Once we left Warderick, we headed south towards an area known as Pipe Creek. This is an area of shallow water, reefs and sandbars protected on all sides by cays of varying size. It is a bit tricky navigating through but offers beautiful scenery and a very protected, peaceful setting.

We made our way to an anchorage just east of Thomas Cay (24 14.26N 076 29.42W for those interested), a fairly large, uninhabited island. There were a couple of other boats anchored in the area, but none nearby. We spent a great day walking the beaches and exploring the area by dinghy. On one of the beaches, we found a trail whose entrance was marked by conch shells that led across the island to the Exuma Sound side (the exposed, east side). We followed the trail and came to a beautiful beach, perfect for hunting for sea glass (which has become a favourite pastime of ours).

On another beach, we found a similarly marked trail, except when we followed it we were led in a circle back to a very crude, lean-to like structure. We weren’t sure what that was all about, but we were to find out when we were talking to some cruisers at another port. When we told them that we had been to Thomas, they asked us if we were members of the “Thomas Cay Yacht Club”. We said no, but when we mentioned the trail and the lean-to, they said that was the club house, and if we found it, we were members (and no dues owing). So, apparently we’re members in good standing!

We were planning on staying another night, but the next morning the wind shifted putting us in shallower water than we liked. Because conditions were pretty good, rather than just re-anchor we decided to head out the cut into Exuma Sound and head south towards Little Farmers Cay, about 25 miles away. We motored out the cut, set sail and off we went. The wind died down so we fired up the engine and motor sailed in light air and small waves. About 10 miles along we noticed a burning smell. Donna looked in the engine access hatch and said that she saw oil in the bilge water. We quickly shut down the engine to see what was going on.

We had a nice offshore breeze so we sailed along the coast while I tried to determine where the oil was coming from. Not seeing anything obvious, I fired up the engine and quickly saw that oil was spurting out from a small hole in the top of the oil filter. That was a relief, all I had to do was take off the old filter and spin on a spare! We shut down the engine and I dug out a spare filter. I took off the old filter and spun on the new. Funny thing though, it wouldn’t tighten, it just spun on the threaded spindle. Hmmm. I took it off and compared it to the old one – the threaded hole was too big! That’s ok, I had another spare. Not so good – same problem. When I looked closely at the part numbers, it seems that the original was 51806 and the spares were 51086. Now we were in trouble.

The sailing was fine in the Sound, but there are no ports or anchorages on the Sound side. All the settlements are on the west, or Bahamas Bank side of the cays. In order to make port we have to negotiate a cut into the Banks and that would be virtually impossible under sail with the strength of the currents running through them. On top of that, there are very few settlements in the Exumas, and virtually no supplies available. If this had happened off the US East Coast, we probably could have arranged for someone to bring us out a filter from the nearest marina, but things aren’t so easy in the Bahamas.

We decided to head back towards Staniel Cay because we knew that they had an airstrip and regular service to Fort Lauderdale and Nassau. We sailed north back towards the cut closest to Staniel then radioed the “yacht club” (which is what the marina calls themselves) to see if they could tow us in and help us get a filter. “No problem” said Chubby, the dockmaster “we’ll take care of you”. And they did.

They sent out a 23’ open boat with a 225hp outboard to tow us. It was a bit dicey going through the cut and shoals, with our speed dropping to less than 2 knots in a couple of places. The local guy driving the boat knew what he was doing and picked his way through by avoiding the strongest currents. Unfortunately that meant that we were often within yards of some big, sharp rocks. I had replaced the old filter (with the hole in it) and topped up the oil so that I could fire up the engine if I had to. Believe me, there were a couple of times that my hand was on the start button!

By the time we arrived at the marina the wind was blowing quite strong and it was apparent that the tow guy was going to have trouble getting us to a dock. I went up on our bow and yelled to him that if necessary, I could run the engine enough to get us to a dock. He was relieved and immediately let go of the tow line, not quite what I was expecting. I pulled in the line and quickly ran back to the cockpit, fired up the engine and turned the boat back towards the marina as we were past it by then. We then determined where it was we were supposed to dock and quickly put out a couple of fenders and docklines on the correct side.

As I brought the boat into the dock with the wind howling, a bunch of people were there to help us take lines. I surveyed the situation – there was a megayacht to our starboard and a 52’ Hinckley sailboat worth about a million dollars on the dock ahead of us. I made a quick decision – if anything went wrong with the docking, hit the dock and not the boats! As we pulled into the dock and the dockhands took the lines, one of them told me to pull forward. Not a hope, thought I. My bowsprit makes an awfully good spear and there’s no way I’m getting anywhere close to the boat in front of us, hoping that the dockhand could control it. Needless to say, the docking went without a hitch and we were safely tied up.

Now that we were secure to the dock, the problem of finding a replacement oil filter became our top priority. Chubby, the dockmaster, had said that he would help us but he was nowhere to be found. Some other locals told us that the store in “town” (there really isn’t a town, just a couple of stores spread out around the cay) had filters. Off we went to Isles General Store. They had filters all right, a whopping two types, which of course wouldn’t fit. Back to the marina to search out Chubby and see what he could do for us.

After an hour or so, I finally found him. We searched through all the spare filters that they had at the yacht club for their various generators and engines, but nothing would work. Next we walked to Chubby’s house where he looked through his shop, again to no avail. At this point the only answer was to fly one in from Ft Lauderdale (which, believe it or not was easier than getting one from Nassau or George Town in the Bahamas).

We ended up spending two nights at the marina, bouncing in the rough conditions and wondering if the filters were really going to arrive. At least there was a nice bar with relatively cheap beer for us to hang out with other cruisers. Without going into details, it all worked out well and by Friday morning we had three new filters at a very reasonable price. You should have seen the look on my face when I spun the filter on, fired up the engine and saw that everything was working! As I stowed the spares I realized that I was putting myself in the same position that got me into this predicament. Instead of just filing them away, I took each out of the box and double checked the part number to make sure that they were correct. They were. Something else will have to go wrong next time.

Now, back to plan “A” and Little Farmers Cay. We left Staniel by about noon and motored up the Bank side of the cays to Little Farmers, a trip of about 15 miles. We arrived around 3pm, took a mooring and made our way to shore to do some exploring. We enjoyed it, but because of our delay in Staniel we could only stay overnight.

For the first time on the trip, we were on a schedule. When we arrived in the Bahamas, we were given an immigration permit for only 90 days (that’s all they would allow). That meant that before the permit expired we had to go to an immigration office to renew it. We had tried to renew it a couple of weeks earlier in Eleuthera but were told that we could only do it within a couple of days of the permit’s expiry date. As the only immigration office in all of the Exumas is in George Town, near the south end of the chain, we had to get there before our permit expired on Good Friday. We also needed cash, groceries and beer and George Town is really the only place in the Exumas with a decent selection and somewhat reasonable prices (unless you consider $70 for a case of beer reasonable!).

George Town is unique in that it can be accessed only from Exuma Sound (well, it’s unique in other ways, but we’ll go there later). That means that you can only get in when the weather is reasonably good because if there are strong easterlies (the prevailing winds) the Sound side can be quite rough and the cuts impassable. A front was forecast for the few days leading up to Good Friday, meaning we had to get to George Town before that, so off we went.

Saturday morning (March 15) we went out the cut at Little Farmers into the Sound and motorsailed our way south. We didn’t want to arrive at George Town too early because we knew that we’d be stuck there with the weather so we only went about 20 miles and tucked in behind a small cay about 15 miles north of George Town. We were all alone in a quiet spot where we did some snorkeling and relaxing. While there, we heard someone calling us on the VHF radio – it was our friends from “Smidge” who we had last seen in Marsh Harbour almost two months previous. They knew that we should be in the area around that time and were calling “on spec” to see if we were in range (our VHF has a range of about 15 to 20 miles). They told us that they were in George Town and that if we arrived early enough on Sunday, we could race on their boat Sunday afternoon. We weren’t sure what the race was all about, but it sounded like fun.

Sunday morning we took a last stroll on the beach and got underway for George Town. George Town (or more accurately Elizabeth Harbour) is a large harbour, about 15 miles long by a mile and a half wide that lies between Stocking Island to the east and Great Exuma to the west. By moving around the harbour as the wind shifts it is possible to find protection in virtually any wind conditions. The town of George Town is on the Great Exuma side of Elizabeth Harbour.

What makes it unique is that some 200 to 500 boats make it their home away from home. The boats start arriving from the US coast in November and just keep coming. They find a good spot and stay put for the rest of the season. Some don’t even use anchors, they actually put screw moorings into the bottom and moor their boats. There is a radio “net” every morning where the days activities are listed (beach volleyball everyday, pot lucks on the beach, yoga, crafts, you name it). There is an informal infrastructure of boaters who organize everything and run and police the show. The nice way to describe it that it is like a summer camp for adults. Another way to describe it is that it is like an overgrown RV Park. No matter how you describe it, it’s not our idea of cruising.

As we entered the harbour from the north we could see what looked like masts in the distance. We took out the binoculars and sure enough, hundreds of masts. Even though we knew what to expect, we were still in a state of shock. We radioed our friends on “Smidge” to find out where they were (it would have been virtually impossible to find them without directions) and anchored close by.

Once our anchor was set, Donna and I dinghied over to “Smidge” to head out for the race. It turns out that “Smidge” had won the just-ended George Town Cruisers Regatta (a fairly big event) and two of the other boats wanted a grudge match race with them and that was the reason for the race. Needless to say, we didn’t win. Actually, the winds got so light that we didn’t even finish, but we had a nice afternoon sailing up and down the harbour in a beautiful boat with good friends.

As forecast, the weather turned nasty overnight on Sunday and by Monday the harbour had about a three foot chop running through it. As George Town (and the immigration office) was about a mile away across the harbour, we would have been drenched if we tried to cross in our dinghy (if we made it at all). We stayed aboard, except for a couple of runs to shore (the close shore) to walk the dogs on the beach, and a trip to “Smidge” for cocktails and dominoes.

Tuesday it was still blowing but Maury on “Smidge” decided to make a run for George Town in his dinghy (bigger than ours). I joined him for the ride and got some of our errands done. I didn’t dare try going to immigration while Maury waited because I suspected it wouldn’t be a quick process (which later proved to be true). Tuesday night it was back to “Smidge” for cocktails and dominoes (a pattern developing?).

Wednesday the wind was still howling and we decided to dinghy ashore to Stocking Island (the close shore) and walk across to the Sound side to see the waves. What a sight. When a wave retreated, it revealed a rock shelf about 20 yards offshore that wasn’t visible in normal weather. As the next wave came rolling in, it would “trip” over the shelf and come crashing ashore. We walked along the beach watching the action. As we stood talking with another couple high up the beach well away from the water, a huge wave came crashing in. Before we knew it, all six of us (Donna had the dogs tied to her waist) were knocked down on the beach. Donna and I were on our knees, but the other couple was rolling down the beach having been “sucked” down by the undertow. Fortunately they were able to get up and head to higher land before another wave came in. We were all in a bit of a shock, but nobody was hurt and we could laugh about it.

Wednesday afternoon I took the water taxi across to George Town (much drier than a dinghy!) and went to immigration. After I filled out all of the required forms and handed over our passports and cruising permit, I was told that the “Extension Officer” was not in the office and wouldn’t be back until later in the afternoon. Off I went to pick up some groceries and wander around to waste time. Fortunately, when I returned to the office about an hour later the paperwork was complete and we were all clear to stay another 60 days in the Bahamas. That evening, for something different we headed over to “Smidge” for cocktails and dominoes. It was to be our last time as they were leaving the next morning to start making their way north and back to the States.

Thursday it was finally calm enough to dinghy across the harbour without getting completely drenched so we loaded up our laundry in green garbage bags and headed across to do the last of our errands. Friday morning we upped anchor and headed off, glad to finally be out of the so-called “Cruiser’s Mecca”. Next time we’re down this way we’ll be sure to go to George Town in good weather so that we can do our errands as quickly as possible and then move on.

We headed north up the Sound to Lee Stocking Island (not to be confused with "Stocking Island" at George Town), about 22 miles away. As the ocean swell was still running about 6 or 8 feet from the winds of the previous few days, entering the cut at Lee Stocking was a bit exciting. The tidal current was running out the cut which meant that where the current hit the incoming swell there was an area of “standing waves”. These waves stand still, rather than roll along like normal waves. As we crossed through, our speed dropped to only 2 knots or so, which makes it seem like the boat isn’t moving. Slowly we inched our way through the worst of the current, picked up speed and were able to breath again.

Lee Stocking is the home of a marine research facility and landing ashore is restricted. There is a beach with trails across the island that are public, which we enjoyed. One of the trails leads all the way up to the very top of Perry’s Peak, the highest point of land in all of the Exumas. We decided to give it a try and see if we could make it. We picked our way along the trail, stopping to catch our breath as needed. Finally, after a great struggle we broke through at the very top to see the magnificent view. We were quite proud of ourselves for having made the trek because, after all, it was a whopping 120 feet high and took about 10 minutes!

From Lee Stocking we went back out into the Sound and headed north to Little Farmers Cay, where we had stopped for one night on our way south. Another blow was forecast, so we took a mooring where we would be most protected. We spent a nice few days there, exploring the caves on Great Guana Cay which forms one side of the anchorage, and even found a trail across to a beach on the Sound side.

One day, while dinghying back to the boat we noticed that one of the whisker stays (the wire that holds the bowsprit in place) was sagging. On closer inspection we found that the bracket that attaches the stay to the hull was pulling forward – the screws had elongated their holes and were pulling out. I removed the bracket and with my trusty Fein saw cut out the bad wood. As I didn’t have any good scrap wood on board (as in hardwood), I cut a piece out of a mahogany shelf fiddle to use for the repair. I glued it in place with epoxy, beefed it up some and reinstalled the bracket with new screws. It seems to be good and solid but we won’t know for sure until we have done some good sailing on port tack.

After the wind settled down some, we made our way along the west shore of Great Guana. We stopped for one night at White Point where we had the beautiful beaches all to ourselves (well, except for the nesting osprey who was guarding one end of the beach). The next night we moved on a few miles to Little Bay where we had to share the beaches with another boat. Finally, on Friday, March 28, my 50th birthday, we arrived in the town of Black Point.

We made dinner reservations for Lorraine’s Café, the local hot spot, then spent the rest of the day walking around the settlement and exploring the beaches. As we returned from our walk, we saw a big Nova Scotia flag flying from a boat that had arrived sometime after us. As we got closer to the harbour, we could see that it was “Semper Vivens”, a boat from Halifax that we had met on the US east coast but hadn’t seen since. We stopped by on our way back to our boat, but nobody was aboard.

After we settled the dogs, we headed back to shore and to my birthday supper at Lorraine’s. Inside we found the “Semper Vivens” crew (Steve and Judy and their two daughters) enjoying some conch fritters. It was fun to catch up with them and hear about their adventures while enjoying our dinner. The girls were quite excited to see our dogs, so after dinner we headed back to our boat to pick them up, then went back to “Semper Vivens” for a nightcap. Not a bad way to spend your birthday, I must say!

“Semper Vivens” left early the next morning for Eleuthera ahead of the next batch of high winds expected by Monday. We decided to stay put in Black Point as we were well protected and enjoying the area. Most mornings we go for a long walk over to the Sound side where there are four beautiful beaches. We let the dogs run around while we scour the beach for sea glass (we have quite a collection going). Donna and I don’t really enjoy lying around on beaches, so searching for sea glass gives us something to do while enjoying the sound of the surf and the blow of the wind. We spend hours at it.

Now, about that leaky boat I mentioned at the beginning. Our boat has laid decks, which means that the decks are made up of individual lengths of wood butted against each other. The watertight integrity of the seam between each plank depends on cotton caulking and seam compound in the joint. The problem is that wood shrinks when it dries and swells when it is wet. In order to keep the seams tight the wood has to be kept wet, and therefore swelled up. To do this, I would wash the decks down with saltwater each night. At least, that’s the theory. The reality is that I got a bit lazy. Because we have had so little rain, I rarely thought about the decks leaking and haven’t been washing them down regulary. Of course, the lack of rain also means that the decks are much drier than normal and therefore not swelled up.

One day I was lying on the settee and looked up at the underside of the decks. Daylight. Everywhere. Big trouble. I started washing down the decks, but because they were so dry the water flowed through the cracks and I wasn’t making much progress on swelling the wood. Fortunately (although we didn’t think so at the time) we got quite a bit of rain while at Little Farmers. The water poured through the decks soaking everything down below. The fortunate part is that the rain swelled the wood up nicely and since then I’ve been religiously soaking the decks every morning before the sun is too hot and every evening after the sun goes down. Last night several squalls passed through with heavy rain and we only had a few drops down below. Success!

Unfortunately we’re now starting to plan our trip home. We’re going to cruise up the Exumas for the next ten days or so, then start watching for a good weather window. Our plan is to head from the Exumas past Nassau (we have no interest in stopping there) to the Berry Islands (another Bahamas island chain). It’s about an 80 mile trip which is a bit too long for one day but is a good overnighter. The problem is that about 15 miles from the Exumas we have to cross the Yellow Banks which is an area of shallow scattered coral heads. It is important to cross the area in good light so that you can see the coral and (hopefully) avoid it.

Our plan is to leave early afternoon so that we arrive at the banks around 4pm. That will give us good light to cross over and then we’ll skirt past Nassau and carry on overnight to the Berries. Because it’s only about 50 miles from Nassau to the Berries we’ll probably arrive before daylight and have to either slow down or wait in deep water until the light is good enough to enter an anchorage.

From the Berries, we’ll take the next good weather window to head across to Palm Beach (where we left for the Bahamas in December) which is about 135 miles. Because we will have the Gulf Stream in our favour, we should be able to maintain a decent speed and make the trip in 24 hours or less. We’ll then make our way north, planning to be back in Nova Scotia sometime early to mid-June. That’s today’s plan, but as always, subject to change.

Howard and Donna (and Storm and Zephyr)
On board Malolo in Black Point, Great Guana Cay, Exumas