Our weather window looked promising to leave Great Exuma and begin our crossing south east to Provo in the Turks and Caicos Islands, so against old sailor superstition, we left port Friday, May 17, headed to Conception Island for the night with our first big crossing on the horizon. That day the winds were blowing steady 15-20 knots and the seas were reasonably calm, so we were having a delightful sail going in the right direction, sort of. All was well, Tom and I were at the helm and we were making excellent speed when we heard a huge snap and our main sail came crashing down. Ka boom!

We had hoisted Clavo up the mast back in Emerald Cay Marina to check out our Garmin wind angle indicator and, as he approached the top, he noticed that the main halyard was severely chaffed. This was a bit unsettling for him, as this was the only line holding him some 56 feet above the boat. He scoped the scene, realized he couldn't fix the problem, then promptly asked me to lower him. Who could blame him. In retrospect we should have assessed the problem as soon as we noticed it. Fortunately, Clavo isn't currently a cripple and when the main halyard broke the sail fell down directly into its pack. We did however have to get creative quickly to make it to our first stop.

The boat is equipped with a spare halyard for our Genaker (a modern take on the golly whomper- which we have yet to fly), so we were able to use it to rig up the main sail and hoisted her back up. It was like having the first reef in, since it's held by a block maybe 10-15 feet down from the top of the mast, but most importantly it worked and we finished up the sail with no other major problems. The evening's anchorage at Conception Island was beautiful and was only shared with a few other boats spread out in the bay.

The following day we decided to see if we could re rig the mainsail a little more properly for our longest passage of the trip. So it was up the mast again for Clavo. This time we decided to use the topping lift to hoist him up to see if we could just run the remainder of the line back to the top of the mast. Unfortunately, when the halyard broke the remainder of the rope fell into the middle of the mast with no real way of accessing it. So we lowered him down, removed the remainder of the line from inside the mast and made a 4:1 pulley setup and hoisted him back up to attach our fix to the top of the mast. It might not be the cleanest looking setup but it was going to work just fine.

After getting our work done on the boat we spent the rest of the day enjoying the beach and snorkeling around a small offshore cay. That evening we set sail shortly before sunset, excited for our longest passage to date and our first overnighter. As we left the bay, the winds were favorable blowing 10-15 knots due east and were predicted to remain the same for the next few days. Perfect….well, not entirely perfect.

Clavo and I were the night watch and everything was going smoothly as the Beckers turned in around 9pm. Little did we know we were in for a ride! Our original sailing guru, Toby Arnold, always said that sailing is hours and hours of boredom punctuated by moments of sheer terror. As the winds began to howl and the sea started rising, Clavo and I decided that, sometimes, it can be hours and hours of boredom that are simultaneously terrifying. We reefed the sails, hugged our close haul tack and stuck it out. The winds were a sustained 25 knots gusting over 30 with rolling giants passing us by and occasionally crashing over the bow. It was intense! But we made it and were so completely relieved to see that old demon star pop over the horizon.

Mom surfaced around 4:30am, and within a few hours Clavo and I had our relief with permission to go below and catch some shut eye. Isabel, nocturnal by nature, was wide eyed and terrified right along with us. We were tethered into our jack lines and she was tethered on her harness to the table, but occasionally she'd join us at the helm tethered to me. In our delirium Clavo and I got great joy laughing about our little family all tied up together for the long haul.

Though we intended to head straight through to Provo in the Turks and Caicos Islands, we decided to take a break near Acklins Island and regroup. Tom, unfortunately, was struck with a bout of the good old fashioned "mal de mar" (seasickness) at about 1:30am that didn't show any signs of relenting in these conditions. We'd had rough seas and howling winds and were all looking for anchorages to take a little breather. Crossing the channel between Long Island and Crooked Island we completely underestimated the strong current, so we rolled up the sails and motored to our destination. Arriving just in time to anchor in Attwood Harbor near Lady Slipper Cay in daylight, we found the perfect sandy cove to rest our tired bodies.

The next day we were up and off the hook shortly after dawn, on our way towards Mayaguana. With the last stint's motoring, we had used up more fuel than we intended to and entertained the possibility of refueling in Mayaguana. Alas, the weather forecast predicted even stronger winds and seas on the horizon and we realized we wouldn't make it in time to catch the fuel docks. That mixed with the fact that there was no guarantee that there would be any fuel and we'd have to wait until the following morning to find out, we decided to simply sail as far and fast as possible and save the fuel for the end of the journey in case we really needed it.

Coming in north of the Plana Cays we began the longest, perhaps best stretch of sailing to date. We'd learned our lesson with the currents from the Crooked Island Passage and set up the perfect tack to carry us through the Mayaguana Passage just south of Devils Point. It was absolutely perfect! We were flying, gracefully riding the waves and making excellent time. We were set for our second overnight sail with better conditions, which was exactly what I needed!

The sun set with Mom and Clavo at the helm, Tom resting down below, and Isabel and I snuggling outside. She refuses to go inside, so I curled up with her and attempted to nap a little before the night shift. Though I didn't sleep a wink, snuggling that little pus while listening to the chatter coming from two of my favorite people was absolutely gorgeous. Mom went down below for some shut eye just around 10pm and Clavo and I had the most pleasant night sail to date. The winds stayed constant around 20 knots and the seas were calm on the south side of the island. Though the wind was coming from the wrong direction i.e. exactly where we wanted to point, we tacked back and forth watching the waxing moon rise high over head. It was splendid.

Dawn brought another passage riddled with strong current and shifting winds out of the south east. We were battling the dilemma between time and distance and, with ample fuel reserves, decided to roll up the sails once again and point for our destination in order to make it while customs was still open and we had daylight to navigate the entrance. It was a long slog into the wind and waves, but we held steady speed and arrived at the Turtle Cove Marina in Provo just in time to clear in. Though we may have appeared frazzled, we were one group of happy sailors, stoked to make landfall. We cleared in and headed straight to the closest restaurant for a feast! Poor Becker had barely eaten over the last few days, and was beyond ready to gorge. If you know him, you know that the man does not wait for food. He's got a consistent appetite that is as predictable as clockwork, so this was a well earned moment of glory. Despite his seasickness, I must say that he is a champion!!! Not once did he bitch and moan about his condition, he simply sucked it up, in that strong gentlemanly manor, and dealt with it. I was simultaneously proud of him and worried about him, but he is, after all, a strong and stoic man and I was truly impressed by his disposition the entire time. After dinner we all turned in early for an excellent night's sleep, excited to check out Provo and plan the next step.