It certainly has been quite awhile since we have put anything up on the blog. We've already made it to the Dominican Republic but... we'll get to that. Let's start where we left off.

The Provenciales, or as its more commonly known Provo, treated us fantastically. We quite easily settled into our little slip at The Turtle Cove Marina after getting beat down for a number of days on the high seas. It was certainly a welcome reprieve. Getting into anywhere on this island is a little tricky as its fringed with a very shallow barrier reef. Checking out the Garmin chart on our approach it seemed almost certain that we were going to bump into something even though we were entering through a marked channel. Fortunately for us, the friendly folks over at the marina sent us out a pilot boat to guide us in through the underwater labrynth. Docking was a bit challenging because our pylons were set apart further than most telephones and the wind was howling 25+ knots but with a little help from some of the folks on the dock and our able bodied crew we got her all tied up for the next couple of days.

Everyone aboard was happy to take a breather. Here the customs and immigration official comes out the boat to clear you into the Turks and Caicos Island group which went pretty smoothly. In this country Isabel the cat needed serological testing which is quite expensive and takes a very long time to get the results so she wasn't going to be allowed into the country. Fortunately I had called ahead and spoke with an officer in the Animal Health Division of the Department of Agriculture, the agency in charge of importing pets. After talking around in circles for about 15 minutes I was able to conclude that there was a provision in the law, a doublespeak of sorts, that made it illegal for any animal to come into the country but if an animal stayed on your boat (which is in the country) than you can skip all the bullshit. Perfect! Even more so because my very honest mother-in-law, within seconds of meeting our customs lady, declared that we had a cat on board. The official seemed to think that we were going to have to jump through a ton of hoops, etc. at which point I dropped the officials name, Officer Dowridge, and fed her the same line he gave me and the problem resolved itself instantaneously. It pays to be a name dropper from time to time, especially in places that are very bureaucratic and completely disfunctional.

After the customs official was done, she bid us farewell and we legally hopped onto solid ground. At this point, Tom hadn't eaten a full meal into two days, a very unintentional fast, so food was a high priority. If there was a buffet we would have gone. The last couple days he had only been eating a few peanuts at irregular intervals. Obviously not an amazing situation. We spotted a tiki bar on our way in through the cut that we promptly called home. We all knocked back quite a few of the local Turks Head lagers and Tom took down the largest pork chop I've ever seen in my life. The thing weighed a 1lb. and it was most certainly well deserved. After being on dry STABLE land with bellies full of good food and drink, the sleepless nights of wave crashing really caught up with us. We returned to the boat shortly before nightfall and fell into a group coma.

The next couple of days were spent doing the usual in port business. Doing a bit of laundry, hitting up marine stores which inevitably have nothing we need, eating out and re-provisioning for the next jaunt out to sea. Its funny how, after visiting lots of isolated islands, grocery shopping can make an impression on you. We rented a car which made the errand running efficient and afforded and gave us the opportunity to hit up some different areas across the island. We stayed a total of 4 days and decided to head to the northern part of the Dominican Republic, bypassing the mazes of banks and some of the less appealing islands south of us. We knew it was going to be a serious haul, but we were running short on time and thought it would be nice for old Tommy Boy to be on land for his birthday the coming Monday. Fortunately, we had run into an old british bloke at the bar watching the Miami Heat game while we were in town who recommended that we buy some Gravel pills, which has turned out to be quite an effective sea sickness solution for Becker. So with fridge, freezer and pantry stocked. We set out into the sunset on Saturday for what was going to be our longest consecutive sail... or motor to date.

All of us have been paying serious attention to the weather because it determines not only our course but more importantly when we should seek shelter. It seems that any time we pre plan our tacks using the GRIB (GRIdded Binary data) wind forecasts they seem to be just off enough to make sailing our course almost more work than its worth. That coupled with the fact that when we engage the autopilot it falls off so much in gusting winds that it almost force tacks us to recompense to keep us on our compass bearing meant motoring a lot. Not a situation that any of us want to regularly deal with and especially not in the middle of the night when the winds have been howling and the sea quite large. So after discussing many of the options and doing some of the fuel calculations we decided that we had enough fuel to motor (if we had to) the whole way on down to the DR. This certainly was not an optimal situation with 5 foot rolling seas but it was certainly a direct way of getting there. We got bashed around quite a bit, sailed when we could but were able to stay on our rhumb line and make our way into the Puerto Bahia Marina in Samana before dusk on Becker's birthday.

Liz and I had previously traveled to this town to see the humpback whales a few years back while on a crazy tour of the island. To be perfectly frank, I don't think either one of us really thought we would return to this particular town, but here we were coming in to this lush island that arose almost out of thin air. The north coast was spectacular, loaded with dense vegetation and sheer granite cliffs. It was truly a sight for sore eyes after a few long days in the aquatic desert. I almost landed a fish, which would have been even more perfect, on our way in. But our desire to arrive superseded our desire for fish, so the boat never slowed and my line snapped right when I thought that I was overtaking the beast. Oh well. At the time we had our priorities.

Entering the bay brought back a wave of memories. We passed the north side of Cayo Lentado, eloquently put by the authors of A Sail of Two Idiots as the equivalent of a land based cruise ship, and quickly made our way to the channel entrance to the marina. Clearing here was a breeze. An ambassador of the Dominican Navy greeted us upon arrival and informed us that Customs and Immigration were closed for the day but assured us that they would be back tomorrow and so long as we were there in the morning we were free to come ashore and explore.

The following morning we took care of the official business and proceeded to session the amenities of this marina. Over the years we have seen quite a few marinas and I can assure you with 100% confidence that none of us had docked at a place like this. For a mere $3.00 a day we had access to their infinity pools, showers, and immaculate grounds. All in all a pretty incredible steal of a deal.

We rented a car for a couple of days which gave us a chance to explore Las Terrenas, a beachside town we had intended to explore on our previous trip, and to check out a beautiful waterfall outside of El Limon. The hike was supposedly about 20 minutes which was more like an hour to get to the base but certainly worth our while. There were about 7 different entrances to the falls along the road, most of which had groups of men shouting at us to stop or we'd miss it. This being my least favorite type of marketing. So after cursing the road we decided upon the only entrance to the falls that appeared to have nobody manning the station. Once we parked we were greeted by a man in charge of renting horses to take us to the falls, which we politely declined. I told him we needed the excercise and that we'd hoof it. He seemed disappointed but willingly accepted my refusal.

However, as we embarked a man on a horse came up along side us with no intention of letting us do the trek solo. He informed me with great sincerity that he was there for our protection and that if we elected him to be our guide than he would show us the least muddy path through a friends private property. It became very clear that he was not expecting me to say no, so after a brief conversation with the rest of the group we decided that, for a small fee, our trip would be guided from that point forward. It really turned out to be a blessing in disguise. The hike was a great change of pace from all the days at sea and the cascading water we soaked in was a pleasant reward for the energy exerted.

Since we arrived at the marina, Liz and I had befriended our 22 year old bartender Juan Miguel, or as he goes in la calle Estarlin. After passing numerous nights with him, polishing off Presidents and rum, we had become quite good friends. It was a great chance for us to practice our spanish and get a bit of a local perspective. After passing a couple of nights bantering back and forth, he told me that he wanted his girlfriend to cook us lunch and show us a bit of the town. Since we had a car and could make our way into the pueblo, the decision was a no brainer. We met him in the morning and spent the day walking through a jungle of both concrete and tropical plants making the rounds meeting his grandmother, mother and plethora of cousins, aunts, uncles and siblings. Liz and I followed along awkwardly exchanging our pleasantries not really knowing what to do. Its a common phenomenon in places we've traveled in Latin America that when you enter any city center there is a huge amount of motos running this way and that, but in reality nothing is really happening. People are just hanging, and hanging hard. Dominoes slam. Men holler at the cute gal walking sown the street. Dogs fight. Horns honk. But in reality nothing much transpires. Its both simple and beautiful.

After a few hours of floundering around town we hopped on the back of a couple of motorcycles and were brought back to our car. From there we drove up the hillside to meet our friends pregnant girlfriend and child and settle in for a meal of parrot fish in coco, coconut rice and a traditional salad of shredded cabbage, lettuce onion and tomato. Since we had been shopping for the ingredients at the local open air market, lunch was going to take awhile, so our dear friend had swung by the local movie dealer and had a copy of Perico Ripiao burned for us, apparently a classic comedy about some prisoners during the era of Trujillo here in the Dominican Republic. We spent the afternoon, laughing, chatting and feasting with new friends and family. It was truly a pleasure. After hanging in the barrio for a hot minute we made our way down to the beach to cool off and check out some of the views from a long spanning causeway that links the downtown area with some outlying cays. Juan Miguel had to go to work and well... we had to go home. The whole experience was super rich but hell, it wore us out. He told us that the following day we could go and have his mother cook for us and show us a bit more of the town but with our time here running short and extra work on the boat needing to be done we graciously declined. Although I know we only had a peak into the daily life in Samana, it was certainly well worth the adventure.

The last couple of days here have been a bit like Groundhog Day. Everything is great but it seems to all blend together. We get some boat work done. We drink some wine at lunch. We go for a swim. We look at weather. This is usually our indication that it's time to get a move on. Although the weather doesn't look perfect we are setting sail tomorrow for Puerto Rico and beyond. The seas and wind look a little bigger than we'd prefer but since we've left the middle Bahamas its been the same story over and over again. Its been good practice and the reprieves have been good but we are ready to push on. There is so much we haven't seen and yet we've seen too much of. The end is near. I can almost smell Tortola. Not sure I'm ready to stop but we've got to go! Crazy how it all works out.

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.

Inspired by one of my best friends, Katie Bush, I brought my aerial silks and hardware along for the ride to rig on board the Fille de Joie. Prior to the voyage, Katie told me that she and her love Dan simply hoisted the apparatus from the jib halyard. Since the Fille has a furler for the head sail, I was curious how we would adapt our rig. Fortunately I'd forgotten that we have a spare halyard to fly an asymmetrical sail (this one's a Gennaker- a modern take on the classic gollywhomper) for down wind cruising.

Luck was on my side as I realized we had the perfect set up just waiting for me to take advantage of it. I used the spare halyard for lift and a spare line ran through the bowsprit, to hoist the fabrics and hardware while keeping it suspended out and over the trampoline. Oh what a rush, climbing the silks with the sway of the boat! The views are spectacular and it's amazing to be able to practice an art I love so much in such remote places.

There are, however, a few draw backs to aerial fabrics on a sail boat. First and foremost, we long for good wind, both at sea and at anchor. At anchor a nice breeze cools the boat off and keeps the bugs away. Unfortunately it's nearly impossible to control the fabrics with strong winds. I've therefore found my practicing days few and far between, and have realized that I'll have to start taking lira lessons A.S.A.P. (suspended aerial hoop). It's a lesson I should have learned from our rig at Burning Man the last few years, but as Clavo and I dream more and more to live on our own boat, it's now become a priority. Oh well, though the days on the silks at sea are rare, I'll take the good winds any day and just enjoy every moment I get.

Since the beginning of our trip, any chance I had to get my fishing lines out I did. But with the exception of a few small catches in Biscayne Bay, I’ve only come up with a few patches of sargassum weed and a loss of morale. After a point, it became almost a personal insult. I was going to catch some damn fish if it killed me. My frustration was growing because we have been cruising in some of the best deep-sea fishing grounds in the world. Fortunately, my luck finally changed.

Upon leaving Nassau, one of the hands at the fuel dock said to me that if you can’t catch fish in the Bahamas then you might as well throw your gear away. Ouch! I knew that we were headed down to the Exumas, one of the most pristine collections of islands in the whole archipelago, and that just on the outside of this chain the water dropped deep and quick. This was going to be the testament of whether or not I was worthy of keeping my gear.

The first day I struck out yet again. Son of a bitch! I was trying a lot of the same lures, the ones that all the anglers I had met said were going to catch me some mahi-mahi or surface feeding tuna. The following day I said to hell with what the experts say, I am going to throw my $45 wahoo lure out there and see if that might get me some attention. About an hour out it most certainly did. Ironically, moments prior Tom told me that he would pony up and buy me a fishing charter trip to see if there was some bit of valuable information I was missing.

I got the bite on the conventional rod just after we put the sails away due to a wind shift that made sailing nearly impossible to get us to our destination. We were in about 1,500 ft. of water with the lure out about 100+ feet from the boat when I started to see the dolphin, aka mahi-mahi aka Dorado, jumping out of the water securely hooked on the line. Tom slowed the boat down and after a 10-minute fight, that beautiful golden-green fish landed on the boat. I finished him off with a couple of stabs to the brain, but with all the excitement I did it on the main deck and a ton of blood quickly spread along the recently cleaned boat, oops. No one seemed to care, they were just happy that I finally caught a fish worth eating.

It was fitting since it was Mother’s Day and I had assured Deb that I would catch her a fish for the occasion. Because of my lack of luck thus far, we had preemptively made dinner reservations on a small island called Little Farmer’s Cay, so the fish was bound for the freezer. After picking up a mooring ball in a very narrow cut just to the north of the island, Liz and I lowered the dinghy and headed over to their very rudimentary fish cleaning station. The Dorado I landed was about 14lbs. give or take, and took me about an hour to clean, gut and filet. Fortunately I was kept company by my lovely wife who supplied my filth ridden hands with a cold beer and an occasional smoke, and a local conch fisherman who was preparing conch salad for the only folks staying at the small yacht club on the island.

With 8 meaty filets in hand, we zipped back to the boat to freeze up the fish and don our Sunday finest for some dinner. A few days earlier I had given these guys a shout to see if they were serving on Mother’s Day, at which time they informed me they were. They had no menu, so I just told them to make us something delicious. That they did! Each couple got a combination of lobster and what I think was triggerfish to share and the usual assortment of rice ‘n’ peas, fried plantains, salad and coleslaw. It was truly some of the best food we had eaten yet.

The next day we got a slower start than anticipated. Liz and I went over to the charter sailboat adjacent to our mooring for some rum cocktails that lasted a little later than we thought, making our “dawn departure” more like 8:30. Nevertheless, we were out of the channel and on our way south towards Georgetown, the biggest town in the southern Bahamas, by 9:00. Reinvigorated with fishing, I had my lines out the second we rounded the bend and, within an hour, I got another mahi mahi on the spinner rod. I had put a pre-rigged ballyhoo on the line that I picked up in Nassau and had quite a time bringing her in. I found the spinner way more enjoyable to reel in because you don’t have to use your thumb to manually guide the line back in on the reel. After I landed this one, which was a bit smaller than the first, I promptly put it in the cooler where I proceeded to do the final killing. This made for almost no mess, a sharp contrast from my first kill shot.

At that point I should have called it quits, but we eat a good amount of fish on the boat and coming into a marina with some extras can make friends rather quickly, so I kept on going. After a couple of hours I hadn’t gotten much action, so I decided to resume my reading of Herman Melville’s classic Moby Dick. From my perch I could get a few pages in while at the same time checking my lines every so often. But after an hour or so of reading this wordy masterpiece, my eyelids filled with lead and I dozed off. I think I only got about a half hour of shut eye in before I awoke to find my conventional rod at the very end of its 300+ feet of monofilament line and at that very instant, the knot holding it on snapped and my lucky (and expensive) wahoo lure vanished with all of my line. It was rough. I felt bad for a number of reasons. I could have caught another fish, I lost all my tackle on the rod and most importantly, there was a fish swimming around in the sea with a lure stuck in it’s mouth and a shit ton of monofilament line behind him. I decided that, from this point forward, if I’m not manning my lines, no matter how boring and frustrating it can be, I shouldn’t have them out. I’m sure this has happened to many a fisherman, but my main objective is to only target and kill the ones I am going to eat and leave the rest alone to go about their existence in relative peace.

My spirits perked up after arriving at the Emerald Bay Marina. We met some interesting sailors at a cocktail party, who later came to the boat and dined with us on the day’s fresh catch. The fish turned out amazing as well as the company. This fantastic group of four was two French Canadian couples, 26 years in age, delivering a 49 ft. custom Hunter from St. Martin to Montreal. They were a breath of fresh air after seeing too many pretentious boaters at some of our previous stops. We might even have convinced these wonderful new friends to join our Burning Man camp. Only time will tell, but I am looking forward to seeing them again and most of all CATCHING MORE FISH!!!!

As our time is limited, we decided to take a route that would afford us the best of the Bahamas while making our way south. So we chose the Exumas - described in one cruiser's guidebook as the emerald necklace of the Bahamas. The morning of May 7th we fueled up in Nassau then headed East. First stop was was the Allen's Cay group - three islands made up of Allen Cay, Leaf Cay and South Allen Cay. Being antisocial, we decided to anchor North of the snuggling group of boats between Allen Cay & Leaf Cay. It was quite nice - a bit of a current but that's why we got the big anchor. After having a quick anchor beverage to make sure we had a firm holding, we donned snorkel gear and one floaty toy. We swam over to Leaf Cay - not as easy a task as we'd figured since the current was trying to move us sideways. Upon arrival we were greeted by a few iguanas, followed by a few more, than many more. There must've been over a hundred iguanas on that tiny beach. It was quite a sight! Clearly they were looking for a handout since lots of tour groups come feed them daily. We didn't have food so they were a little peeved with us. One even hissed at us. Liz & Clavo played ball with the rubber paddles luring the iguanas toward the pink ball. Probably looked like a big berry. We headed back to the boat and the swim was even more arduous! I'd wanted to bring the floaty so I could get a tow back, but it became a dragging/pushing burden. Thank God for young strong swimmers! Back at the boat there were more sundowners and dinner. Liz hung up her fabrics & got another workout. Then one more sunset in paradise.

May 8th we sailed South to Hawksbill Cay & grabbed a mooring ball. We got lazy & blew up the floaties, strung 'em together and just bobbed around in the water for an hour or so. Coulda gone hiking but it was hot and that seemed like too much work. I think we were still tired from the previous day's swim.

May 9th we sailed to Warderick Wells Cay - headquarters for the Exuma Cays Land and Sea Park. We got another ball there as anchoring is discouraged due to the coral everywhere. We dinghied over to the park office, paid up for the balls then set off for a "hike" up to Boo Boo Hill. What had started as a cloudy/ rainy day turned out to be sunny and the view of the surrounding islands was awesome! At the summit boaters have left pieces of driftwood with their boats' names piled up. Clavo found a piece of wood & wrote Fille de Joie, our names & 2013 on it for the pile. Liz & Tom found various shaped pieces of wood & spelled Fille de Joie on the ground. Looked pretty good!

May 10the we headed over to Staniel Cay. Took Conch Cut out to Exuma Sound so Clavo could catch us dinner. He's had several bites that stole some of his best lures, caught several that were too small, but is still waiting for the big prize. So we motored around for awhile in deep water - still no luck. No worries -tomorrow's another day, right? We got to Stanail Cay, grabbed a ball and snorkelled over to Thunderball Grotto - this amazing underwater cave that's accessible at low tide. It was gorgeous! Only thing wrong with it were the noisy gals inside with loud New Jersey accents echoing off the cave ceiling, ruining what otherwise would have been a magical, inspirational, quiet experience. I guess we're all guilty of being a "touron" one time or another.... Late lunch then back to the boat for dark & stormys.

May 11- Staniel Cay Yacht Club for breakfast - jeez these guys have the best bread! I got French toast - yummmmmm! The others - guess they got poached eggs or something.... Who cares. Then back to the boat so Tom could work on the water maker. Stupid thing had been leaking since we left Bimini and he decided to conquer it before it killed him. A water maker is a great thing to have when it works, but if ya gotta rely on it for your sole source of water, it needs to perform. Tom fixed the problem and we were ready to go see the next and most exciting attraction of our trip so far ...... Pigs that swim out to you for food! We dinghied over to a spot on Major Cay armed with supplies. The woman at the grocery store had told us the pigs were very picky & would only eat Bahamian bread, but the bakery was closed so we brought carrots & leftover tuna. When we got close one of em' started swimming out to greet us. Wow! I never even knew pigs could swim (after watching the Geico commercial I know they can fly...) Pretty funny sight - the first pig to arrive supped as many carrots & tuna we could give him, then swam back to shallower water so he could chew & swallow everything. His buddy needed some coaxing but eventually came out to chomp down what we had left. Who'd a thunk? Just when you think you've seen it all, you see something new. Man, I love life!
Then back to the. Boat for some more quality float time off the boat& back to the yacht club for supper. It sounds pretentious saying "yacht club" but this place is more like our local Front Range Inn - great food, decent prices & a fun place to people watch. Another day in Paradise. Jeeze, life is hard....

P.S. Check out our gallery and map for more details. Too many great shots to share in one post.

Waking up before sunrise is always a majestic experience. We had our work cut out for us today, May 4th. Our hurdle was to cross the Great Bahama Bank, a 56 nautical mile passage in predominantly 20 feet of water or less. We left the anchorage about an hour after first light and began our journey over a shallow, turquoise aquatic desert. We followed the north cat cay passage making our way towards the northwest shoal marker that leads to “the tongue of the ocean”-a deep drop off on the edge of the bank. For the majority of the day we had steady winds at our aft making 6-7 knots under sail on a deep broad reach. The water seemed pretty lifeless with the exception of a few patches of coral so fishing was a fruitless endeavor. After about 7 hours or so of sailing our winds began to fade, so we rolled up the sails and finished the last stretch under motor.

Early in the day we decided that we wouldn’t venture into the deeper waters until first light the following morning, which afforded us the unique opportunity to drop anchor in 16 feet of water with no land to be seen. What a feeling! Its one of the most surreal experiences I think any of us has ever had. We made sure that we were far enough out of any of the main passages through the bank and settled in for the night. We made a few rum cocktails and polished off our expensive Kaliks, the local Bahamian beer we purchased in North Bimini, and spent the rest of the night star gazing in the most expansive anchorage imaginable.

Over night we kept our running and courtesy lights on in lieu of a mooring light because we didn’t want to be mistaken for a channel marker. Nonetheless, the bizarre nature of our situation struck Debs with a bit of paranoia in the middle of the night as she frantically looked through binoculars worried that boats on their passage might run into us. No one could blame her since the experience was a new one for us all, but it did afford us comedic relief as she recounted her night watch in the morning.

The following day we made way for Nassau, the capital of the Bahamas and the main city on the island of New Providence. Although the destination was never high on our list as its one of the largest cruise ship destinations in the world, we had read enough to know that if you stayed out of the downtown west end and hung on East Bay Road you could get a lot of local color and all the provisions we would need to carry us on down through the Exumas. Our cruising guide did not let us down! We elected to stay at the blue collar Nassau Yacht Haven right on the other side of the commercial dock and fish stalls. We were lucky and got put up on a T-dock so as to avoid maneuvering the Fille through the maze of slips packed into this little marina.

The spot turned out to be perfect. On the property was a scuba diving company and a famous bar and restaurant within the cruising community called The Poop Deck. After we got our dock lines secured and shore power connected we headed in to book a dive for the next day and get some cold beers and fresh fish at our new spot. Liz and I took it easy into the evening because we had an early morning departure the following day and hung boat side reading up on weather patterns and plotting our next course south.

On the 6th we awoke to blue skies and perfect temperatures ready to go explore some of the aquatic wonderland the Bahamas had to offer. We quickly befriended our dive staff on the way out, getting info on some of the things to expect under water and tips of where to provision in the afternoon. We arrived at our first stop about 9:30 in the morning to dive The Lost Blue Hole, blue holes being a surprisingly common phenomenon around these parts. Andros Island, to our west, even has some inland blue hole, which I here are pretty unreal. It had been a couple of years since Liz and I last dove and it felt great to be back in the water. We descended upon some Caribbean reef sharks swimming gracefully on the ocean floor around the rim of the hole. Within the hole itself I wouldn’t say was much to write home about, besides the occasional shark that would swim into the center to take a lap or two. The biggest issue is that as you descend, the light spectrum diminishes and the hole expands, so the algae that live with corals can’t photosynthesize well. When we reached our max depth of about 90ft. you almost had to be on top of the wall to get a good look at what was living down there. Regardless, it was well worth the cost of the trip to check out this unique aquatic topographical formation.

Our second dive was pretty shallow in about 30 ft. of water. We got to see a plethora of nurse sharks, a few of the invasive lionfish that our decimating the reefs in and around the Bahamas, and many of the familiar species of marine life that we spent years educating people about in the Virgin Islands. After we ascended we headed on back to our slip to meet the Beckers for a delicious lunch of whole fried snapper, rice ‘n’ peas and plantains at The Poop Deck before starting our provisioning around town. Tom and Deb had spent the morning giving the boat a much needed scrub down- an incessant necessity of the cruising lifestyle- and she was sparkling yet again. With bellies full we decided to divide and conquer. Liz and I headed into the belly of the beast, the cruise ship dock, to get a polarized filter for her camera, and T& D went across the street to the marine store to look for anything we may have forgotten.

Liz and I hopped in one of the local public jitneys (small local buses) and caught a ride downtown to the main stretch of storefronts, grabbed our filter and were out of there within ½ an hour. I was pretty impressed with how efficient the trip was and how we were able to ride round trip for under $5 combined. We made it back to the boat and headed out with Deb for food and libations. This also turned out to be an incredibly fruitful and yet again, surprisingly affordable venture, and even we even had the good fortune of catching a taxi back with all of our newly acquired goods, without which we would have been up shits creek with a turd for a paddle.

We made it back swiftly and promptly stowed our rations before venturing out for an evening at the famous Atlantis resort. We know it’s touristy, but such a gaudy salmon palace necessitates a visit. It gave us a reason to dress up a bit, hell I even wore shoes for the first time in a month. As expected, the place looks better from a distance. It was a cruise ship meets Vegas, sort of our cup of tea, gambling and what not, but not really due to the sheeple nature of it all. We did however find a nice place to dine on the water and strolled along the piers checking out some of the nicest yachts in the world before being taken by a couple of slot machines and overpriced drinks. I think we were in and out of the casino in less than an hour, a record for the 4 of us. After that we all agreed that we really liked our part of town much better and wanted to make our way back for a night cap and some shut eye to get us prepped for our journey into what we hear is the most beautiful part of this island chain- The Exumas. All that being said, Nassau was great. It gave us just what we needed in the right amount of time for the right price. It’s not some place I have the dying urge to come back to, but if I were in these waters again I certainly wouldn’t shy away.