We didn't make it to the fuel dock before closing last night, so our plan was to be waiting as soon as they opened at 7:00 am. Well, we were there and the attendant arrived at precisely 7:00 am, Bahamian time (that's about 8:07 real time). While we waited, we watched Mike and Jenny sail by. We never saw them again. So much for the convoy. After loading the tank with the dirtiest diesel I've ever seen, we headed off into a brilliant, blue, relatively calm day. After rounding Bimini and North Rock on the Gulf side, we headed east across the Great Bahama Bank. The wind was light, but right on our nose, so the sails stayed furled. I considered hoisting the main, just to catch any puffs that were offered up, but didn't do so until after a few other boats passed us with their mains flying. Crossing the Bank was another new and interesting experience. We travelled over 60 nautical miles, and at no point was the water any deeper than 20 feet. The calm wind kept the surface still, and the breathtaking clarity allowed us to see every detail on the bottom as if it were 6 feet deep (which it appeared to be, which was very unsettling). Mostly sand, with a few sporadic weedy patches, and some coral. Lots of starfish and conch, and a few other alien looking bottom dwellers. A surprising lack of visible fish below us, but occasionally a whole school would launch themselves though the air across the surface. We decided to try out the trolling lure we bought in Miami and jury-rigged a rod holder for the stern. Within an hour or so, the line buzzed out and we reeled in a sleek, fast-looking, Barracuda-like thing and were now faced with the problem of how to land a fish from a sailboat travelling at 5 knots. Eventually we put me in the dinghy and used our under-sized lobster net to huff the thing into the dinghy. As it turns out, the dinghy is a good place to land, clean and fillet a fish, because all the mess stays out of the big boat, and the dinghy is easily rinsed out with sea water. Ingenius. The fish we caught was a Cero, and produced two nice fillets that we couldn't finish for dinner. We travelled well into the night, finally dropping the hook in shallow waters on the Northwest Shoal, a few miles off the main route so as to not be mistaken for a marker buoy in the night. Anchoring on the Bank is surreal. It is absolutely wide open. There is no land in sight in any direction. Only ten feet deep, but no bottom visible in the darkness. No clouds, above, and no waves or swells, so only reflections on the water. It is like floating in space. No trouble sleeping.