With good friends, John and Sue Hoffman, Joanne and I are headed north from Royal Island, Eluthera, Bahamas to Little Harbor in the south Sea of Abaco, Bahamas. It’s about 56 NM of open ocean. The seas are rough but not unbearable as the wind is directly in our face. The direction, however, ensures a “likely”good entry into the Abacos, whose reefs cause channel entries which can be notoriously rough and opportunities for surge conditions abundant.

We are about 18 miles into our journey when the engine begins to sound lower and RPM’s and speed begin to drop. Then, return to normal. We immediately begin to worry, but charge on, Comocean, our 426 Sabre continues to pound into the waves, continually shaking the diesel. I begin to worry that we are having engine issues, one third of our way into our passage. These slowing and speeding back up conditions continue. I remember a similar incident in Nantucket Sound and my son, Seth Hynes (who has completed a Half circumnavigation aboard his vessel Honeymoon), telling me that it’s starving for either air, fuel or a spark. The engine then goes into a long, slow reduction in RPM to a full stop.

Shear panic seems to come over everyone. John and I instinctively think of the fuel filters, we roll out the Genoa and Joanne takes the wheel. A night entry into the Abacos is seldom desired and have led to many unhappy outcomes. Time is important. We empty the Lazarette. Pull out spare filters and begin the process of changing them out. The pounding had shaken the fuel, and the secondary filter had done it’s job. It was contaminated shut. We top off the replaced filter with spare diesel (yes, we knew enough to have 5 gallons on board). Next, to the Primary filter. It looks clean, but, we change it out and top it off. We fire up the engine, it turns over and begins to fire, but only momentarily. Now what? Bleed the line. Ok we are not sure how.

I call to a great Man-O-War, diesel and everything else expert, Darren Sands, who walks us through the bleeding process. In our haste, and lack of knowledge, we then over-crank the engine trying to get out the air. We fry the starter motor. What immediately goes through my mind is that Columbus did it without GPS, Charts, Electricity or an engine! The engine on a sailboat is, after all, called, an auxiliary engine.

John goes up front to help hoist the Main. Joanne has done an admiral job keeping us going under Genoa, but now we can point a little higher. We have 16 knots of wind, occasionally reaching 18 knots. We should, with tacks make the cut, about 6:00 to 6:30. Dark is at 6:30.

I quickly call Darren to see if we can get help coming through the Little Harbor Cut. I know that we are safe, however, might need to spend the night Hove To outside the cut waiting for tomorrow to come in during the light. Although I know the cut from the experience going south, it’s still dangerous. Darren calls Abaco Cruisers, finds Michael Sanchez and starts the process of laying the ground work for piloting us through the cut at night…but, with a full moon.

At 4:30 we hear from Michael. We are 16 miles out and making VHF contact. We agree to half hour updates on VHF 14. I turn on my Mast Tri Color light and Foredeck light. At the five o’clock call, he informs us that they see us. However, the 1 knot current that we have been fighting all the way up is now closer to two knots. 6:30 would be a lucky entry time. We have everyone in full ocean vests, strapped on to our lifelines, have reviewed our procedure for using the Kannad AIS MOB distress beacons and our personal Locator Beacons, and EVERYONE knows this is not a normal passage. I have weighed going in tonight, versus the strong east winds that would be present the next morning. And, worse, extremely deteriorating weather in the next two days. We are fresh and we have control of the boat. We also have a track to go in on. I decide that our pilot assistance makes it very doable.

As the wind is due north, and the full moon not helping, I decide on one more tack to make sure we will have control going through the reef. (See Photo) The normal entry at 340 degrees is tighter than I can sail without pinching.


Michael has told us that the house on Bridges Cay has turned on his lights to give us a north mark. He comes out of the pass, and shines his light at us. We align ourselves with the boat, follow at as fast a speed as we can carry, and enter the harbor. Thanks to the North wind, which caused all of our problems, when we enter it is flat, with no rolls. I tell everyone that we are through the reef. There is an enormous sigh of relief!

We slowly follow Michael to what turns out to be the exact spot we had anchored in for the trip South to the Exumas. John fires up the grill and we lie peacefully at anchor. What a day! What a learning experience.