March 29, 2011
As said all good things must end. Well that is not exactly right but somewhat true as it pertains to Phase IV of our cruising. After almost two months in the islands, we left Bluff House Marina, Green Turtle Cay day before yesterday at 0930. It was a picture perfect day and we sailed under almost ideal conditions. We were heading to Great Sale Cay as our last stop before crossing the "Stream". During our passage to GSC, we decided to fish to see what we might catch. Not long into the "ignore the fishing thing and we might be favored with a morsel of the sea", we caught something. It turned out to be a beauty of little food value. It was a start. We continued toward Great Sale on a beam reach with all our attention to the crystal clear water passing under our keel. We set watches thus allowing each person aboard to enjoy reading and the scenery without duty to keep her on course.
There were sails everywhere. Most were heading west but some were just getting to the island. The second shift was arriving in paradise as we were leaving. Our guest crew lamented the fact that the week seemed to pass in a couple of days. On deck the temperature was in the high 70's and all was well. Another "fish on" and we landed a three foot barracuda. Again, our catch had little food value but definitely a good thing for the crew entertainment package.
We spoke little and just enjoyed the Bahamian Islands as they passed nearby. We were aft of a sloop about two miles ahead and noticed as we approached Great Sale Cay that they decided to slip in the lee and drop anchor there. We took a quick vote and decided to continue as it was very hard to drop out of the excellent sailing conditions. Our next waypoint was Memory Rock on the western edge of the Bahaman Bank. The ETA there was around 2200 hours, well after dark. The crew settled into three hour watches and we had dinner. Mine was the second watch after dark and the evening sky was in full bloom. We cannot get over the clarity and brilliance of the evening sky in the Bahamas. It was clear, cool and 15 kts of wind- the stuff of dreams. Alone in the cockpit, I enjoyed the last night in the Bahamas of Phase IV. Bear was sleeping below.
I was off watch as we approached Memory Rock, a nasty reef and shoal at the western edge of the bank. We were in two fathoms of water as we approached the waypoint in absolute darkness. This is where one has to trust the chart plotter in the same way pilots fly in clouds. One mistake here and we become headlines. "A sailing vessel from Texas sunk on Memory Rock". We did not want to pass close by and I adjusted the waypoint to give us more sea room. The guides suggest two and a half miles south as a good place for boats with five feet or more draft to pass. As we sailed past, we noticed that the light we originally thought to be the rock light was indeed a cruise ship heading to Miami for a night docking. We sailed by Memory Rock with a good three feet of water below our keel in the darkness. The fathometer display change from three feet under the keel to 345 feet in less than a quarter mile. Then it simply indicated "last- 345" meaning the bottom fell out. The sea floor was somewhere in the 200 fathom range as we began to relax for the next leg, Memory Rock to the sea buoy at Fort Pierce Inlet, some 62 nm away or so. Dang it was dark, except for the cruise ships wandering south toward Miami. My watch started roughly at Memory Rock and would take us some 18 nm into the Gulf Stream. The next watch arrived early after the cursory coffee exercise and chocolate chip cookie munching. Six cookies and one is ready for anything. We discussed the weather, boat condition, navigation and related stuff and I slipped into the makeshift sea berth on the cabin sole. Sleep did not come easily as we had a lively motion to the boat, but it did come. In the red glow of the cabin light I listened to the sound of the sea rushing by the hull. There were no other noises, not even crew snoring which is noticeable at anchorage, with the exception of something rolling about in some cabinet. I chose to ignore it and slipped into a coma. It had already been a long wonderful day.
My next watch started about 50 nm from the Fort Pierce Inlet. It was uneventful except for more chocolate chip cookies, some chips, some turkey loaf and a real Coke. That might explain how the normal loss of weight did not take place during Phase IV. The conditions were near perfect as the next watch took over. I got back to the coma easily and to the dreams of the islands and of Texas. The next time my watch started, we knew that there was to be bad weather off the Florida Coast, but the first challenge was to dodge another cruise ship that seemed to be set on running us down. It was it some 14 miles distant as confirmed by radar. I followed it most of my watch and noticed that it seemed to match my course but in opposite direction, meaning it might have been announced on deck "For those of you up this late, the Captain has decided to ram that puny sailing vessel ahead. Stay up and enjoy the screaming of the crew aboard that boat as we churn them up in our props." We did manage to avoid each other most likely to the groans of the guests still hugging their Goombay Smash drinks.
The massive thunderstorms were showing on radar yet they did not cover the entire coastline. Besides that, most weather forecasts mentioned that there was a good weather window to be had early in the day. Do not delay arrival at some harbor beyond later afternoon was the warning. That was a piece of cake as we knew we would be in Fort Pierce by noon. We continued on course. About 20 nm from FTP, the radar was starting to show larger and larger thunder bumpers. Still, it appeared to offer a clear path to the port. The wind was fluky and we dropped sail to motor the last dozen miles ever mindful of the old adage that if you think about reefing or dropping sails to the weather, it is too late. We were ahead of the game. We rigged for weather thinking that we might just be favored with kindness from Mother Ocean. Yeah, right.
The last two months in the island were spectacular, yet the last 15 nm of the phase promised to be the most challenging. The promise came true. The gaps in the weather cells started to close in around us the closer to Ft. Pierce we came. By the time we were within 12 nm of the destination we were in it. Fortunately, there was very little lightening but the temperature dropped 20 degrees and the wind started to build as the rain started to creep into our space behind the dodger. So did the sea. We knew the longer the wind blew the higher the seas. Just as we got into the "blow" the USCG announced a severe weather warning. Ya think! It was time kids to get serious about buttoning up the boat; we were in for a doozie. We were not disappointed. Our course put us directly into the wind, which is a good thing, as opposed to wind from any other direction. We already dropped the sails and motored into the blast. Spume was everywhere (meaning foam from the sea), and the waves started to climb. Every wave was a bell ringer and we started to see blinding rain. The wind reached 42 knots and the autopilot was not doing the job. Ok, thinks I, this is payback for those uneventful days when Mother Ocean gave us a pass. Now the dues came due. At times, Why Knot went vertical and stuff in the cabin "unstowed" and started to put dings in the dance floor. It was pointless to restow stuff since even the boat troll gave up. It took better than three hours before the wind and the sea granted us clemency. Behind the storms we encountered cold temperatures and much calmer sea. We motored into Fort Pierce Inlet much relieved that it was over. It emphasized that one must be prepared to deal with conditions that change. It punctuated a perfect visit to the islands, a place forever engrained in our souls. As we approached the slip, we noticed the water was no longer clear, no longer crystal, no longer that of the special palace called Abaco. Needless to say, stuff was out of place. Even the anchor chain managed to re stack. A hatch in the guest cabin was not completely dogged and everything on two shelves were soaked. Still it will always be "simply messing about boats".