Gunkholing

Although we have not traveled many miles over the past few days, we have done a good deal of snooping around the islands to the north of Staniel Cay. In contrast to our Bahamas visit in 2012, this year we are slowing way down to explore and enjoy the area. (Landlubbers: “gunkholing” is when cruisers wander about and anchor in protected, shallow spots.)

Because of our watermaker, we free to anchor away from civilization until our limiting factors kick in. (The resource we ran out of first used to be water, now it is primarily a place to dispose of our trash, secondarily our need for fresh vegetables drives us back to settlements.)

A few days ago (side note: dates and days of the week are getting pretty vague for us, so if we miss your birthday or anniversary or parole date don’t take it personally) we sailed out of Big Majors towards Fowl Cay. Well, one of the Fowl Cays…there are several around here. As soon as we turned out of the anchorage we pulled out the asymmetrical spinnaker and flew it for the first time since the Alligator River back in September.

Days like this are why we came down here.

We can’t remember the last time we saw another boat flying a downwind sail. The point was driven home to us when a sailboat on a reciprocal course to ours gave us a thumbs up and took a few pictures of beautiful Cupcake looking glorious. We took a few pictures of our own as well.

Bubble bath. No bubbles today.

Fowl Cay is an interesting private island with a horseshoe-shaped cove. The island is conveniently located a dinghy ride away from Rocky Dundas, a pair of tiny islands with great snorkeling at a coral reef and pretty cool cave. We checked them out and enjoyed the fish life and the corals and the caves. Then we scooted about 3/4 of a mile to Compass Cay where there was a bubble bath. In the Bahamas a bubble bath is a formation where the waves crash over a short stone bar to churn up the waters in an otherwise protected, shallow pool. Because it was such a settled day, there was not much bubbling going on. We waded in the pool and added a hoodoo to the collection on shore. All the limestone around here really lends itself to hoodoo-stacking.

Ocean cave.

Hoodoos.

The Fowl Cay anchorage was a beautiful, idyllic spot but because of the way Cupcake was lying relative to the wind, we had a very rocky night. In the morning we moved to Bell Island, just inside the southern border of the Exuma Land and Sea Park. Had a great snorkel, scraped barnacles off the bottom of the boat, and spied on a pair of big stingrays hunting in the sand near the boat. Moss perfected her underwater skills and now easily swims under Cupcake. We then had an even rockier night. All day the boat was sitting in calm waters. As soon as we started dinner, things got really unpleasant. Safe, just uncomfortable. Ugh. 

You see beautiful water. I see coral and shallows. And a deep path.

The route from Fowl Cay to Cambridge Cay and Bell Island took us over some extremely narrow, shallow channels. Our GPS took us on a route that would have run us hard aground on a falling tide, so Visual Piloting Rules applied. (Landlubbers: VPR means trust your eyes, not the charts, to read the water depth. Upon arriving in the Bahamas, the water all just looks gorgeous. But after a little experience, we’ve re-learned to read the water color to determine the depth. We’re also getting pretty good at reading currents and winds and little ripples to give us more clues about what places are safe and deep enough for the boat. And running aground on a falling tide is the wrong way to do it because depending on where you are in the tide-cycle, you could be sitting on the bottom for up to six hours, waiting for the rising tide to lift you off. We always try to run aground on a rising tide. (Really, we plan our thin-water excursions for flood tide whenever we can.))

That’s Moss pointing out the safe route through the shallows.

Enormous coral. Bigger than the dinghy.

In the Land and Sea Park there is a new rule that, in addition to paying $20/night to use a park mooring, boats now need to pay 50¢/foot just to anchor. We are not a fan of the notion that we should pay for the privilege of using our own anchor and chain, but understand that we are guests here and these are the rules. We also understand that the Land and Sea Park is privately funded and that it is a fantastic resource. We don’t understand where the money is going, however. The park hosts at Cambridge Cay where we took a mooring for a delightfully calm night were volunteers from Canada, not Bahamians earning money. There is no pump out boat, so moored boats without awesome composting heads like ours just dump their waste into the pristine protected waters. There is no enforcement of the no-wake zones. There is nowhere to take trash ashore, resulting in piles of plastic debris on land that cruisers collect from the beach but which are never removed.

In any event, we passed a pleasant afternoon with Jennabird who we first met at Cape Lookout, NC and then again in Bimini. Every time we see them, we end up losing a Croc overboard. This time Moss threw my shoe off the dinghy just to keep our streak alive. We also score Flav-or-ice from them. Super fun people.

At the beach on the Exuma Sound side of Cambridge Cay, Moss and I built another flotsam catamaran. This one was significantly larger than the last one and had a sail, a dinghy, and an anchor. 

Another voodoo catamaran.

As much as we enjoyed the park, in the interest of spending nothing for the night and in the interest of spearfishing tomorrow, we moved to Sampson Cay today. This anchorage is very protected, right next to a beautiful former-resort that is now a private island. Met a boat from Camden, Maine this afternoon. It’s nice to see people from home waters. Bonus: they are a kid boat.

Tonight Ellen is making tacos with hand-made tortillas for dinner. Last night we had chicken fried rice. Yesterday we had eggs and hash browns for breakfast. Ellen has hit her stride.

Crazy Ellen in the galley taking time out from making noise with the pots and pans.

We have a big boat again

Kickstand. You thought I was kidding, didn’t you?

Well, our boy Simon flew back to the US this morning. I got a great picture of the airplane with the kickstand this time. We enjoyed our visit with him and feel fortunate he could share so much time with us during his break. 

(If you are thinking, “Jonathan is just writing that sentence to make Simon feel good when he reads the blog,” don’t kid yourself – we think it unlikely that Simon reads the blog at all. He’s a smarty and got excellent grades again last semester at George Washington University. We are proud of our scholar. But he doesn’t seem to seek out this literary genre. (Mainers, give him your vote if you ever see his name on the ballot. Watch out Susan Collins you coward.)) (Side note: Moss says I am being a cyber-bully to Susan Collins. Perhaps. But at least I am not a hypocritical gender-traitor like the senator.)

Moss the fish.

Anyway, we passed the remainder of the day taking care of business at Staniel Cay in preparation for about a week or two away from civilization. Before taking care of chores, however, Moss and I snorkeled Thunderball Grotto again. The current was ripping through but Moss is becoming a strong swimmer and had no difficulty managing. She is becoming a real fish. (She would prefer I didn’t call her a “water baby.”) 

School has resumed aboard Cupcake and Moss seems to be enjoying the work once again. Speaking of work, ashore we had the propane tank refilled, filled the diesel tank and jerry cans, and cleaned our laundry at a laundromat.

Don’t believe everything you read.

Let’s talk about that laundromat. Actually it was a laundromat and wholesale liquor store. I know a little bit about wholesale liquor and can definitively state that $62 for a case of Kalik beer that sells for $42 in the government store back in Nassau is not a wholesale price. Similarly, $30 to use coin-operated machines to wash and dry two loads of laundry is not wholesale either. Yikes. 

In any event, we are tanked up with fuel (well, not gasoline for Mr. Flowerpot  because Staniel Cay ran out of gas two days ago and hasn’t gotten a delivery since) and clean laundry and a clean composting toilet and electricity (because today was bright and sunny). 

This evening we are hanging on the hook at Big Majors Spot and will head back to the Pipe Creek area tomorrow for some snorkel action. Ellen wants to make lobster sushi. (Side note: Best-Practices-Ellen has us anchored with 75’ of chain in 11’ of water. It is unlikely we will drag in the 15 knots of wind tonight will bring. But boy will we sleep well.)

Aretha Franklin on the stereo (Moss has a new favorite musician), meatballs and spaghetti with hand-made breadsticks for dinner. Ahh. Sometimes this lifestyle is very easy to take.

It’s actually more beautiful and mysterious than it looks in the pictures.

The fishies in Thunderball Grotto are not afraid because there is no hunting allowed. The stripey ones are Sergeant Majors (Abudefduf saxatilis). The guys with the yellow tails are Schoolmasters (Lutjanus apodus).

Amen.

Team Cupcake.

Is Simon smiling because he is leaving this ship of fools?

Group selfie. Matchy-match shirts. So cute.

Resources

The days have been blending into one another lately. It’s partially because the weather has finally settled down a bit so we can spend the bulk of our days not fretting about wind, but instead scooting about in the dinghy seeking out snorkel spots, and just relaxing and reading.

Pipe Creek sand bar.

A few days ago we sailed up to Pipe Creek for the evening to explore a bit. Our anchorage, between two little cays, was protected from the wind but was in the teeth of a fierce current. When Moss and I jumped in the water to check on the anchor, the current was too strong for her to leave the protection of the mother ship without making me nervous. So we swam together to the bow and while Moss held fast to the snubber, I went forward and confirmed that in 16’ of water, once again Pablo was buried deep and solid in sand.

While the kids stayed aboard so they could bicker in peace, Ellen and I roamed the Pipe Creek area by dinghy and realized that the water was spectacularly clear but was also super shallow. When we got back to the sailboat Moss and Simon joined us for a ride to a big smooth sandbar for a few hours of sand castles and swimming. The tide was rising so by the time we left our little island had lost significant acreage. By nightfall, the sandbar was completely submerged.

That’s me checking to see if we will hit the sand bar if the wind and tide shift.

That evening Moss got an email from her buddy Liz on Orion and we realized they were just down the the islands at Big Majors. Reached them by VHF to see about coordinating. Because we hadn’t seen Orion since St. Augustine, we convinced them to stay around Big Majors an extra day before heading to Georgetown.

In the morning we sailed south and met up with them at Big Majors for some spearfishing (didn’t see anything spearable although Ellen and I were stalked by a big grumpy-looking barracuda).

Played together on the pig-free beach at Big Majors, cracked open a coconut Simon and I harvested at Black Point last week, and the younger kids made a catamaran out of two plastic kayaks that live on the beach.

Ellen “caught” a conch and made conch with rice, peppers, and garlic to take to Orion for dinner that night. We had a fine time catching up and will do what we can to meet up with them in Georgetown. Because the family lives aboard full-time and Phil works from the boat via the Internet, they need to be in a spot with reliable connectivity. 

Moss finally got to snorkel at Thunderball Grotto yesterday and really loved the experience. The entrance, at low tide, does not need a dive underwater. But there are two tunnels out of the grotto that require little underwater dives. Moss mastered the exit and is justifiably proud of her accomplishment. 

We moved Cupcake around to the back side of the anchorage to a spot called Little Majors. Had the place to ourselves, in part because the chart erroneously describes the anchorage a having “poor holding.” One reason we moved from Big Majors (aka Piggy Beach) was the pigs. Tour boats run back and forth across the bay all day ferrying tourists to the pig beach. So the wakes are constantly rocking the boat. Furthermore, all those pigs on the beach also crap on the beach. At high tide, logs of pig poop come floating by the boat. It’s pretty disgusting. We actually do not see the appeal of pigs on a beach. Pigs are disgusting. Delicious, but disgusting. And the people aren’t eating the pigs, they are swimming in their filth with them and feeding them.

Anyhow, we anchored just fine despite the warning on the chart. Pablo was buried up to his rollbar in good sand. Today with the wind changing direction, there are another six boats sharing the anchorage with us. We are trendsetters.

Now that we’ve been on the boat almost half a year, various bits and pieces of equipment are starting to fail. (Side note: that’s a pretty remarkable run of relatively trouble-free sailing.) Yesterday when I made water, we realized the bilge was filling with seawater. Traced the leak to a failed o-ring on the watermaker pre-filter housing. I have no replacements. (Side note: it would make sense for the $15 water filters to come with replacement o-rings. After all, $7 oil filters come with replacement o-rings, $8 fuel filters come with replacement o-rings, $12 water pump impellers come with replacement o-rings.)

Ellen and I took the dinghy to Staniel Cay to see if we could get ourselves a replacement o-ring from someone ashore. Nobody had anything that fit, but the guys at Staniel Cay Yacht Club and at Watermakers (an outfit that makes purified water for the cay) gave us a too-big o-ring to try. They suggested cutting the ring to size then supergluing the cut ends together. 

Their advice felt, at the time, like a “let’s just get this poor guy out of here any way we can” suggestion. But when I tried the cutting and gluing today it worked like a charm. So the cruising tip of the day is that you can cut an o-ring to size and then glue it together. Who knew? (Well, Chubby at Staniel Cay Yacht Club, for one.)

Speaking of resources, with all the snorkeling and trips to shore and visiting neighbors lately we have been burning lots of gasoline. In fact, we need to refill our jerry cans on Monday and can’t remember the last time we bought gas. Some of the gasoline we are just now using may be from August. So it is stale and makes the outboard unhappy. 

Also, Cupcake is just barely able to keep up with the power and water demands the four of us put on the system. Three people on board seems right for what the boat can generate. Four puts a strain on the system. Five people were a significant challenge, so when our next batch of guests comes we will make sure we have full tanks of water to start and access to shore water along the way. I don’t know what we are going to do about beer. What we have plenty of at this stage in the trip is time. It is a luxury we are thoroughly enjoying.

Selfie Ellie.

Happy new year

Cupcake is securely anchored at Black Point Settlement where we’ve been hanging out for the past several days. Ellen and I are trying to remember how many days we have been here but are unable to figure it out with any precision. It’s probably not been more than three days or so, but they are all bending together. That’s a good thing.

Happy Simon.

Two days ago we finally got ourselves motivated to go spearfishing. In search of coral heads and the fish they host, we took Mr. Flowerpot around the southern tip of the bay that makes up the anchorage at Black Point. The water was between 10 and 20 feet deep, and was pretty clear. 

For several reasons, I decided I was not interested in spearing reef fish. They are beautiful, they are under enough environmental pressure as it is, and I don’t know which ones are delicious to eat. So we are restricting ourselves to hunting lobster and lionfish on the reefs. Saw a big big conch this afternoon when we went hunting again but Ellen decided that conch, too, are being overfished. So we left it alone. (Secondary reason for not getting the conch: we’ve been eating so much fried food lately and Ellen only knows how to make conch fried. It was a healthy choice for us and for that conch.)

The spearfishing is an interesting activity for us. Ellen is a cold-hearted killer and will murder and eat anything without the slightest remorse. But she stinks as a diver and spearfisher. I, on the other hand, am pretty good with the spear, quite good with the diving, but utterly softhearted.
Nevertheless, when I dive down and start snooping around the bottom edges of the coral, I get very caught up in the thrill of the hunt. Every shadowy crevice could hide a lobster. On just the other side of each reef a lionfish could be lurking. (Landlubbers: the lionfish is a beautiful fish that is an invasive species from the Pacific. In Atlantic and Caribbean waters, they are devastating reefs from tropical waters up to the US mid-Atlantic coast. They have poisonous barbed fins, no natural predators on this side of the world (aside from humans), and excellent instincts. I learned that lionfish that have never seen a spearfisher are fearless and thus easy to get, but ones that have been shot at (but not hit) immediately learn to hide from divers and become very challenging to catch.)

See all the reef fish? No? That’s because the 50 or so of them that were swimming around took cover as soon as I hove into view. I’ll try to be more stealthy next time and get a better picture.

After maybe 15 minutes in the water, I spotted a lobster lurking under a coral head about 12-15’ deep. It took me at least eight dives to finally spear it and bring it to the surface. The first two dives were reconnaissance: I spotted the lobster, then dove again to see exactly where it was hiding, where it could retreat to, if it was on the move, etc. Then it took me another two dives to work up my nerve to shoot at it. And the last four dives were spent shooting (three times) and finally cornering the lobster and getting it with the fatal shot.

After shooting it, I had to surface swiftly, raise it out of the water, and get it into the fish bucket in the dinghy before all the blood and thrashing attracted a shark. 

Underwater during the “work up my nerve” portion of the hunt, I actually had to remind myself I was going to be eating some kind of meat for dinner. Whether it was a lobster I killed or a chicken someone else killed, something was going to be dead because of and eaten by me.

The rest of my family has, seemingly, no problem with the hunting and killing. The lobster was flapping in the bucket for about another half hour before Ellen finally grabbed it in both her hands and literally ripped it in half, tossing the head, legs, and body into the water, keeping the tail. (Landlubbers: these Caribbean spiny lobster don’t have claws like Homerus Americanus in Maine.)

After we had the lobster in the bucket (but still before Ellen dismembered it) I went back into the water in a spot a little ways away and saw a lionfish lazily, carelessly swimming around a bit of coral. Shot that sucker without any remorse, swam to the surface with it on the spear over my head (again, blood, thrashing, sharks). Ellen told me it was too small to bother filleting so she made me toss it over the side. 

Back aboard Cupcake Ellen worked some magic with the lobster tail, making fried lobster fritters. I’ll be honest and admit I had a strange reaction to eating something I killed myself. The fritters were delicious, but I found myself with only a limited appetite. Simon, Moss, and Ellen gobbled up those fritters, so nothing went to waste.

Despite my slight remorse at dinner two nights ago, today I couldn’t wait to get back in the water to hunt some more. It really is a thrill, and it definitely feels pretty salty to catch our own food. Unfortunately, although we had a really nice swim today, we found no lobster or lionfish. I did feel guilty when all the reef fish scattered every time I got near them. Wanted to tell them fish are friends, not food (at least their kind of fish) but I do not speak reef fish.

Last night we ate an early dinner on the boat then went ashore to have a few beers (and Goombay for Moss) at Emerald Sunset Bar. It’s a new place, just opened about four months ago by a young Bahamian guy. He was playing reggae, the best music we’ve heard anywhere on the trip, was friendly, attentive, and clearly working hard to make his business succeed. His was the first place we have seen where both cruisers and Bahamian locals were eating. Too often we see cruisers and anglo-snowbirds in places or just Bahamians in places. We will definitely be back to Emerald when we return to Black Point Settlement.

He had boxes and boxes and boxes of fireworks stacked up, ready to launch later in the evening. We gobbled up a couple of orders of French fries, chit-chatted for a while, then headed home expecting to see the fireworks from the boat. At just before midnight we were treated to a beautiful display rocketing and exploding into the dark sky over the point.

Today we took advantage of the free fresh water ashore, and I took advantage of Simon by making him tote 50 gallons of water from the tap, to the dinghy, to the boat. That’s five trips. I figured it takes one amp to make one gallon of water, so using Simon’s young, strong back saved us about a day and a half of running the watermaker.

Happy Ellen.

Bitter Guana Cay

What about this face says “pet me”?

Yesterday we left Staniel Cay for a jaunt southward to Black Point. On the way we had a lunch stop at Bitter Guana Cay to visit the protected iguanas. Gnat boats from Staniel bring loads of tourists to check out the iguanas as well. We were surprised to see the tourists trying to pet the iguanas. First, take a look at those guys – why would you want to pet that? Second, the iguanas are protected so we found it curious that the boat drivers don’t even give the slightest bit of information (like, “don’t touch the iguanas”).

Because the water was so inviting, we swam ashore instead of launching the dinghy. Delightful. Simon climbed the cliff face and made me nervous. I used to be unafraid of heights, now I am somewhat afraid of heights. But I am completely terrified of my children in heights. Getting old, I guess.

Before we left Staniel Cay, we stopped ashore again to drop off trash and investigate the grocery situation. Fortunately, we arrived just after the mail boat delivered fresh supplies for the week. Unfortunately we also arrived just after the crew from one of the big power yachts came and bought all of the fresh vegetables. They cleaned the place out: over 100 apples, 75 oranges, gallons of milk, the works. Oh well. We got ice cream, lettuce, and cucumbers. Last night for dinner we had lettuce and cucumbers with ice cream.

Just kidding, we ate at Lorraine’s Restaurant on Black Point and remembered, once again, that there is no good reason to eat ashore in the Bahamas. Simon wanted to eat healthy food for dinner last night and admitted that we failed utterly. The healthiest part of the meal was the beer. Not the fried conch fritters, fried chicken wings, mac & cheese casserole, or BBQ ribs.

Once again, I am trying to motivate the crew to come spearfishing with me. Not seeing a lot of enthusiasm yet.

Today is the first day in I don’t know how long that we have enough sunshine to run the water maker off the solar panels. It is a blazing hot bright day. Fantastic.

Moss and Bitter Guana Cay landfall.

This is where the iguanas live.

Why no sunglasses and hats? We swam to shore.

Simon the apex-predator. Moss the prey.

Cliff. Face. Cliff face.

So talented: an underwater selfie.

Squally Staniel Cay

Yesterday nephew Zachary left us and flew off to the second part of his winter break. Instead of being crammed aboard Cupcake with the four of us, he will now spend a week with 6,000 of his closest friends aboard a massive cruise ship departing from Florida, headed to the Caribbean.

We envy him the time he spends with my brother, sister-in-law, and niece. Also the hot showers and fresh fruit. But we are not so sure about the rest of the cruise experience. His boat will have almost as many people aboard as our home town, Freeport, Maine.

In any event, Simon and I took Zachary in Mr. Flowerpot to get him to the airport on time. Along the way we braved 20+ knot winds and white capped seas. With luggage, bags of trash, and the three of us in the dinghy, we decided it made sense to leave the girls back on the mother ship.

The Staniel Cay airport is a trip. The “terminal” is pretty much a worn out covered picnic pavilion. There is no security. Simon asked me if it was like air travel pre-9/11 and he is correct. Airport vehicles were all golf carts. The planes looked like they were built by a 7-year old using LEGOs. 

We pulled the dinghy up to a dock conveniently located about 100 yards from the airstrip. As the boys were tying us up, some people we met in Highbourne Cay came hustling down the dock looking hassled. They told us all flights were cancelled for the day because of high winds and they had to go to the next island to catch a flight back to the US. I asked how they were getting to Black Point and they said by dinghy. Yikes. In Mr. Flowerpot it was a bouncy, windy, wet ride from the anchorage a mile away. Zachary was reluctant to get back in the dinghy for the 10 minute ride from where we had lunch to the airport. Didn’t want to get soaked again. (Also, in the US it would definitely have been a Small Craft Advisory kind of day. (Landlubbers: since Cupcake qualifies as a small craft, little Mr. Flowerpot definitely does.))

The boys hustled to the airport office to get the full scoop (the office is less organized than the main lodge at summer camp on registration day) and found out only one of the two carriers cancelled flights. Zachary was good to go. He had mixed feeling about that turn of events. 

We watched a few planes land and a couple more take off. When landing, the planes would hit the tarmac with a chirp of tires, jounce into the air again, and then land with another chirp and wiggle. The ones taking off would jolt into the air, then get hit by a gust and bounce down with a surprising lurch and chirp of tires, then lunge aloft for good. Simon showed no compassion for his already-nervous cousin and made all manner of dark predictions. Unfortunately we didn’t bring the camera. If we had, we would definitely have taken a photo of the kickstand the pilot put in place as soon as the little craft landed. It was a pole that held up the back of the plane and kept the aircraft from tipping up onto its tail as the passengers got off and the weight shifted. Sketchy. And really funny to those of us traveling by boat.

Zachary’s plane took of on time with no issues, stopped at Congo Town on the island of Andros, then landed in Fort Lauderdale a full hour ahead of schedule thanks to pretty brisk tail winds the whole way.

Here’s a confession (not a dirty little secret): two equipment-selection errors I made on this trip were not getting a bigger outboard for the dinghy and not getting a higher-capacity water maker. I chose a 5hp outboard because it is light and doesn’t have an external gas tank. Turns out the weight is not an issue because we use a block and tackle/hoist to get the engine on and off Cupcake. And my external tank hangup is silly since we always travel with a spare gallon of fuel in the dinghy. Should have gotten an engine of at least 9hp. 15hp would have been even better. (Guests are welcome to bring us either size engine when visiting.)

Our loyal Mr. Flowerpot.

And the water maker works great when we run it all day while motoring or in full sunlight, but this week in particular, we could use higher output since our consumption has been significantly greater than usual. Unfortunately, with the cloudy skies above and extra people aboard, we’ve had to run the engine daily to generate electricity while we run the water maker. We make water out of electricity. And without the sun, we need to make electricity out of diesel. That fourth solar panel we had no room for last summer seems like something we could work into our repertoire these days. Ah well.

Yesterday evening we visited and had drinks with Ungava a 45’ Beneteau we’ve been seeing off and on since northern Florida. The boat is nearly brand new and comes with a manufacturer’s warranty. The warranty on Cupcake, a 32 year old boat, works like this: Ellen says, “Don, the ____ broke. When are you going to fix it?” (Don is the name Ellen uses for me when I am in maintenance mode. We started the tradition when we were visiting our friends Tom and Delwyn aboard their lovely boat Mahalo in Guadeloupe a few years ago. Tom was complaining about the maintenance a boat requires and said his wife Delwyn didn’t even bother to learn his name, that she just said things like “Oh Tim, the head is clogged, would you take care of it while I go ashore for baguettes?” And “Oh Tim, the outboard is acting funny. When you’ve fixed the head, have a look at it will you?” (Tom and Delwyn will be visiting in a few weeks and we can’t wait to host them.)

Today we relaxed, read, and waited for the winds to drop out of the mid-20s so we could go for a nice snorkel. When I was fussing with laundry drying on the lines this morning I saw a shark cruise under the boat. Not sure if it was a friendly nurse shark or a hungry bull shark. Going to pretend it was definitely a nurse shark.

We checked out a nearby cave in the limestone along the shore, saw some fishies, then swam to a nearby beach where a bunch of cruisers were hanging around. Sent Simon back to Cupcake to fetch us some Coronas. Kids, dogs, beer, sand, sun…pretty good stuff.

Met a 25 year old ex-police officer from New Hampshire who quit his job, sold his house, bought a 43’ catamaran, and sailed away with his wife, two kids, dog, and a buddy. (The boat is big enough that the buddy gets his own hull, not just his own room.) I explained to Simon that I liked every part of that story except the “wife and two kids by 25” part.

Yesterday Ellen baked two loaves of bread and put together an antipasto plate for dinner. Tonight it’s lamb stew with potatoes. Moss is maintaining her mood with a stop-gap snack of miso soup. Tomorrow I am going to try very hard to catch a fish or lobster for dinner.

A pair of southern stingrays (dasyatis americana) lurking in the sand. Check out what are probably sharksuckers (echenesis naucrates) attached to each one. The rays are probably at least 3’ across.

Queen angelfish (holacanthus ciliaris) and maybe some kind of gobie (gobiidae). We don’t love our little digital camera above the water because it takes very dark pictures. But underwater it does great.

Cute Ellen taking time for a selfie while patching Simon’s favorite pair of jeans.

Staniel Cay

It’s all about the weather. As you know, every day (except Sunday) Ellen and I wake up at 6:30am to listen to the shortwave weather broadcast for the Bahamas. We even take notes. Moss generally joins us and does a remarkable job keeping quiet during the broadcast. Keeping quiet is not one of her strengths.

And the weather has been crazy lately. First we had a string of nasty cold fronts, pretty much from just after Thanksgiving until late last week. Now we are getting really brisk winds out of the east. East winds are our favorites in the Bahamas these days because the better weather protection in the Exumas is found on the west side (leeward side) of the islands. 

Today we are in an extremely protected anchorage just north of Staniel Cay. The anchorage is called Big Majors Spot (we don’t know why). Although the wind is really howling now (20s gusting to 30) we don’t feel much of it because we are snuggled right up against the island and it blocks the wind. No waves to speak of here either (except during the day when the jet skis and wakeboarders come by). So it is a very safe, restful spot. Best place at anchor since we left the US. (Great and Little Harbour were calm, but neither was ideal for a host of reasons.)

Voodoo catamaran in a sand castle anchorage.

After leaving the marina a few days ago, we headed to Shroud Cay – a favorite of Simon’s from our last trip. Although the anchorage was flat out awful (once again we took a recommendation from a catamaran) the island was magical. We took faithful Mr. Flowerpot across the island on a river through the mangroves. We emerged at the most beautiful beach we have seen since the last most beautiful beach. The current the falling tide made as it churned through the river and emptied into the ocean was formidable. The boys and I jumped in and rode the current around a rocky outcropping and then swam ashore to the sand. Over and over again. Climbed to the top of the little island to see the magnificent view. Built voodoo-catamarans and cast them into the sea. Had a wonderful time. Then we hightailed it to Hawksbill Cay where we met a kid boat (Magnolia) and had a much less rocky night anchored in the lee of the island. (Landlubbers: I use “island” and “cay” interchangeably when I talk about the landmasses, but I use “Cay” when it is the proper name of the spot. I don’t know if there is a real difference and I don’t know why some of the islands of the Bahamas are called cays and some are called islands.)

Sacrificing the voodoo catamaran to the malestrom.

View of the mangroves at Shroud Cay.

Yesterday we sailed from Hawksbill Cay, intending to get to Cambridge Cay for the night. But once we got moving we realized that with a forecast that the weather would only get more fierce over the coming days, it made sense to get to the Staniel Cay area as swiftly as we could. So we altered course and got down here by early afternoon. 

It was quite a sail. We saw winds building into the low 20 knot range. Cupcake likes a good breeze, but when the gusts started climbing into the 30s and then the squally rain and cloudy fog came along, it became a little less fun. For over an hour we even had the radar running so I could keep an eye on other boats around us because we weren’t the only idiots out on the water. 

Fortunately, with the islands to our east blocking the bulk of the seas, although we were in whitecaps all day, the waves weren’t any bigger than 2’ or so. We still took plenty of water over the bow, into the cockpit, all over.

But this time the anchor was not dragging in the water so we were able to make good speed. It was a vigorous ride down. At about the two-hour mark I stopped enjoying myself. The funny thing is that as soon as we got to our destination, set the anchor, and realized we were safe and sound, the unpleasantness of the first part of the day melted away. Took a nice hot shower and that really did the trick. (Speaking of showers, my goodness but five people on the boat really blow through our water.)

This morning we had a delicious breakfast of Eggs in Purgatory (poached egg on a bed of grits, covered with marinara sauce). Then we all jumped in Mr. Flowerpot and headed the mile or so over bouncy seas to Thunderball Grotto. Got soaked, but we were going snorkeling anyway. (We watched the James Bond movie Thunderball the night before. What an awful movie that is. But part of it was filmed in the Exumas at the grotto, so it was actually historical research.)

The current was pretty fierce so Ellen and Moss passed on the swim in to the grotto. We will return at slack tide tomorrow or the next day or the next day. Our itinerary keeps us coming back to Staniel Cay over the next two months to pick up and drop off guests.

Thunderball Grotto is a remarkable place. At high tide this morning we needed to enter through an underwater passage. Coming up into the cave is a spectacular experience: the light is magical blue, colorful fish are schooling everywhere, and the sky peeks through a couple of holes in the top of the chamber. Really fabulous.

Inside Thunderball Grotto.

After the swimming we all went to Staniel Cay where Ellen was thrilled to learn trash disposal is free. Trash disposal is a critical concern aboard the boat. Trash storage and fresh food are the two limiting factors we face on a regular basis. Staniel Cay promises to solve both issues. Also, there’s a laundromat.

Trash is a particular issue today because there was some confusion among the guests as to how to use the composting head. When someone inadvertently pees in the poop bucket, the ensuing stench is truly epic. Ellen, the hero of this epic, just changed the compost bin so things are returning to normal, at least as far as odor is concerned, on Cupcake.

Ellen sees this as a picture of colorful bathing suits. I see it as a picture of our children showing their best side.

Riding the current at Shroud Cay.

Mountain goat.

Moss and Simon at Staniel Cay, 2012.

Moss and Simon at Staniel Cay, 2018.

Staniel Cay.

Lovely Ellen.

Guest bloggers

Hello everyone,

Allow me to introduce myself. I am cousin and nephew Zachary. Son of Jeffrey and Eileen Handelman. I hail from Niskayuna, NY, but study the University of Vermont. I use he/him pronouns, and my favorite flavor of ice-cream is mint cookie crumble from Stewarts. 

Simon and I met the Cupcake crew in Nassau on Tuesday. Since then, we’ve had some gorgeous days at Highbourne key. Uncle J. likes to remind us that Cupcake is the smallest large boat in the marina. 

Yesterday we toured a 45’ Morgan, but we were most interested in their Siamese cat named Bijou. The marina offers free bike rentals, so after our fill of cat time we went for a long bike ride around the island. After a day of hard work, we were treated to a delicious stir fry dinner. Simon and I aren’t allowed in the kitchen. No complaints here. Speaking of food, we watched Master and Commander a couple nights ago. As I write this post Simon is downloading the movie soundtrack so that Ellen can sing along. We’ve been listening to a lot of Grateful Dead, Bob Dylan, and Simon on the Ukulele. Still no complaints here. 

OH I have big news for all of you! For those who are aware, the crew has an unhealthy fanaticism with the movie Water World. They are still fan boys at heart, but after some investigative work, I can confidently report that their interest in the movie is dwindling.

Today we set sail for Norman’s Key. Our goal is to catch a fish or some conch for Ellen to cook up. I hear its for sushi. Now I’ll let my little cousin Simon share his thoughts. 

I also flew into Nassau with my cousin Zachary the other day. He is right to say the subsequent days have been a joy. The crystal blue water, smooth sand beaches, and excellent cuisine are really making me reconsider my past impressions of the Bahamas. A thirteen year old boy is probably less well equipped to cope with copious amounts of family time than a college sophomore.

On an unrelated note, two days ago I bought my father a beer for the first time. Worry not dear reader, it was totally legal, if mind-bogglingly expensive ($8 per beer). We talked to the bartender who said the whole island is owned by one restaurant tycoon from Nassau. The staff work for six weeks, living on the island, then they get a week off to visit their families who are also often from Nassau. It seems on these islands everything eventually drifts back to Nassau.

It looks like Zachary filled you all in pretty well in terms of our itinerary. I’m sure you’ll hear a lot about us from my father and probably less from us directly. Until next time, enjoy the wifi good people of the Internet. 

-Simon 

*The views expressed in this post do not necessarily reflect the views of Cupcake or her crew.*

Millennial Invasion

The Millennials have arrived. Hosting two big 20 year old galoots on board is not too different from having a pair of Labrador retrievers around: fun, cuddly, hungry, messy. Simon and cousin Zachary arrived yesterday.

We had time for a swim in the pool and then left the marina for a night at anchor just off cute little Fort Montague. The night started out smooth as glass, but by morning the wind was ruffling up a little chop from the east. Planning a breakfast underway, we raised anchor and made our way across the Yellow Banks, the shallow 30+ mile stretch of Bahamian plateau separating Nassau from the Exuma chain of islands.

We were able to sail about a third of the way before the wind both shifted and dropped, forcing us to motor the remainder of the trip. Now we are docked at Highbourne Cay because we are sheltering from what is predicted to be the fiercest norther of the season to date. 

The wind is supposed to clock from the east all the way around to the north over the next few days, blowing well into the 20 knot range with gusts that may hit the 40s. No thank you.

But today the weather was spectacular. As soon as we arrived and were securely tied to the dock we launched Mr. Flowerpot and took a ride to a beach for swimming and playing in the sand. There was a little reef and I suddenly remembered how exciting the hunt for lobsters can be. From now on, we take the pole spear with us, just in case.

Balcony House.

In the days before the boys arrived, the skeleton crew (Jonathan, Ellen, Moss) walked to the heart of touristy Nassau. Checked out the Straw Market where trinkets of every type are sold. We needed nothing and were informed by Ellen not to even think of bringing anything actually made of straw aboard. Dock Monsters, you understand, live in straw hats.

Ate some delicious gelato (there’s really no other kind) and got a tour of The Balcony House, the oldest house in town. It was built in the 1700s. Our tour guide was well-informed and gave us a good glimpse into how the well-off lived in Nassau hundreds of years ago. 

Megayacht.

Ellen and I just walked the docks here at the Highbourne Cay Marina to check out the nondescript 100’+ powerboat and the lovely 160’ sailboat docked at the big-boy dock. We also eyeballed the nine nurse sharks lounging in the water at the end of the dock where the sport fishers clean their catch and throw the guts into the water. 

Earlier today Ellen met our dock neighbors and was astonished when the woman chided the sharks for being “welfare queens” who don’t even go out and work for their living. “I earned everything I got.” Wow. That’s a world view for you.

Off on a snorkeling trip.

We have a lot of questions about this place.

“My address? Oh boy…”

Saw this interesting lineup at a funeral home. What’s that car on the left?

Nassau bridges. This place is no better at removing derelict boats than Florida.

These guys hang out at the end of the dock. Not one was less than 5’ long. Shark infested.

The Labradors are doing their push-ups on deck.

Me with my boy on the boom.

Zachary at the helm.

And nutty Ellen. See the food on her shirt. They are nuts. Nutty Ellen. Get it?

Grocery update

Who likes duck liver that much?

Yesterday we did some grocery shopping (“Krogering,” they call it in the Midwest) at the Fresh Market. This place is as big and nice as a typical high-end market in the US. We were astonished because there is nothing like it in Bimini or the Berries. There was nothing remotely like it when we were in Nassau in 2012. The march of progress!

Ready for Passover in Nassau. Maybe a little early, but all that Kosher for Passover food tastes stale even when it is fresh.

This installment will be lighter on words because, really, it’s just grocery shopping I’m describing. But I wanted to share some pictures of the unbelievable prices here. And pictures of the fantastic kosher section. It’s probably three times larger than anything in Maine (which, admittedly, is not saying much). But a kosher food section in Nassau? Who knew?

The other thing of note this morning is that we finally got shore power working. We do not carry a shore power cord to connect to the dock when we are at a marina.

The primary reason we don’t carry a cord is we were unwilling to sacrifice the storage space, reasoning we would seldom be at a dock anyway.

The other reason we don’t carry a cord is that we figured our solar panels would easily meet all our electrical needs. (And they certainly did this fall when we were stuck at the marina without shore power after Hurricane Florence. )

But now, less than a week before the winter solstice, it is dark and bitterly cold most of the day. The sun only peeks above the horizon for a few scant minutes before falling below the glacier again for another long night of us shivering with cold and terror as we listen to the Dire Wolves howling in the hills.

When we arrived, at first I was all bravado and told the dockmaster we needed no cord. Then I got realistic (after looking at the cloudy weather forecast) and asked to borrow a cord.

He provided us with one but it wouldn’t work. Dockmaster said the problem was likely on our end of things (as if anything mechanical or electrical fails to work on Cupcake). As a compromise, I agreed to use my multimeter to test if we were getting current through the marina’s sketchy, somewhat charred, a bit corroded power cord. 

When I put the meter probe into the hot wire slot on the power cord, I got a shock. (Not emotional, electrical.) The dockmaster laughed and said “see, the cord works, you are getting current.” Funny. But I shouldn’t have gotten a shock and shouldn’t have seen any current on my meter until I had the negative probe inserted too. I felt the thing had a grounding problem. Felt it in my hands, primarily.

They had a second 30amp power cord for us to try, but its ends were so burnt I wouldn’t even plug it into the boat.

Thirsty batteries. We typically see a tenth of that power on a sunny morning when we are charging on panels alone.

Anyway, we’ve been powerless since our arrival, but today I borrowed a clean, massive 50amp cord and a pigtail to adapt it to our system. Plugged it in and hooray, power! Electric toothbrushing for everyone! A victory for dental hygiene.

This is the non-shocking 50amp cable feeding us sweet nectar.

Cruising tip of the day: we use a Sharpie to write the contents of our canned goods on the lids. That way, when the cans are stored in the bilge, we can easily read what is inside each one. Also if (when) the labels fall off we will still know what we are getting. (Side note: the Fresh Market was so thoroughly air-conditioned that when we got the cans back to the boat, they were chilled and started to get wet with condensation. Moss and I needed to dry each can before we could write on it. Again, the things we suffer on board…)

This picture shows one reason why we will keep trying to catch our own fish.

Yikes. And our own turkeys, I suppose.

Here she is.