Guest blogger

Cupcake fans, you are in luck today.  This is guest-blogger Sherry reporting from Thomas Cay, while Jonathan fries up some bacon, Moss does math, and Big Jim and Ellen drink coffee and read. 

Sherry in her happy place at the helm.

Thomas Cay is a low, uninhabited island across a cut from Joe Cay.  On Thomas there’s a lovely sand beach with lizards, a pair of speedy white crabs, and a spider that I nearly walked into and took my breath away.  Very large.  The beach and the ironstone shore are littered with conch shells, some bleached white and others turned black and decaying.  There’s a path up through the palms and scrubby brush to a beach on the cut where there are peculiar round pieces of coral, each with a tiny hole in the middle.  The Cupcake crew have named this buttonhole beach and have two strings of these little talismanic objects hanging on the boat.  Across the cut, Joe Cay has some kind of private house/resort with its own beach.  I saw a golf cart on the beach yesterday.  There are some ledges between us and Little Pipe Cay, where there is either a resort or an enormous estate.  We watched a seaplane land and then take off from little Pipe Cay, and there’s a building right on the beach that may be the hangar.  We’ve had to monitor it closely as the door has opened and closed several times, requiring us to reach for the binoculars and squint to see what they’re up to.  It’s exhausting.  (We also salute the people of Little Pipe Cay for modern approach to internet security in their wifi password, because it was neither “Password” nor “Guest1234”.  Safeguards are in place.)   

Moss and Eliot hard at work designing a board game.

***Okay, while I was typing that last paragraph two seaplanes just landed, and now there is a rainbow whose pot-of-gold end is at Little Pipe Cay.  Rumor has it that both Johnny Depp and the Aga Khan live around here, so I keep expecting Johnny Depp to show up with a tray of bloody Marys and an invitation to come ashore for a shower.  But it hasn’t happened yet.  Perhaps today.***

Now that he is nearly 50 (47, but we round up on this boat), Jim has complicated eyeglass needs. His birthday was Saturday.

Between us and Little Pipe Cay there is a passage where enormous speedboats equipped with triple 300 hp outboards come blazing through, loaded down with tourists and playing rock-and-roll at a volume loud enough to be heard over the roar of the engines.  Apparently there’s a tour cycle where you can start in Georgetown and take a day trip, first to see the swimming pigs of Big Majors, then to another Cay where there are iguanas, and finally to Thunderball Grotto, undoubtedly knocking back rum drinks all the while.  Our hosts did take us to Big Majors, but we skipped the side of the anchorage with the swimming pigs (and their poop) in favor of Cruiser’s beach and quiet.  We did get treated to Thunderball, which is an island that has a cave in the middle of it.  You can snorkel under the rock and then you find yourself in a cavern that’s half underwater and half out of the water (there’s a tiny hole above through which sunlight filters).  It’s full of fish and we’d no sooner arrived than we were snorkeling in this remarkable place.  I expect there’s a better and perhaps illustrated description of Thunderball elsewhere on the blog. 

Because the sizzling of bacon has ceased and now the eggs are cooking, I’ll switch to speed mode.  

Get outta my galley!

Good things: 

* a sky almost completely free of any land-based lights, full of stars, clear and dark and sparkling.  A 7-year old boy with a star chart, curious and able to see in the sky what’s on the chart.

* in the same nighttime darkness, mysterious and beautiful green phosphorescent shapes.  Big Jim thinks they are jellyfish and they were vaguely jellyfish sized, with an eerie green light that spun, twisted, and dissolved.  They surrounded us for about fifteen minutes, drifting on the strong current, and then were gone. 

* The mayor of Gaulin paid us four visits.  On the first, we shared our bacon with him.  On the second, he brought us a sympathy lobster.  On the third, he brought us cold beer, and on the fourth, another lobster.  He also stayed for stories and was as generous with advice as he was with delicacies. 

* Big Jim’s birthday included two spotted eagle rays and a molten chocolate cake.

* Moss and Eliot have invented a board game that gets more elaborate with every hour they spend together, and it delights them. 

*there are more good things but breakfast is imminent so I must leave them to your imagination. 

* Boat-baked bread is delicious. 

Ray and Jack again.

Not-so-good things: 

* We failed to catch the largest Mahi in the world when we made our passage on Friday, even after following the mayor’s advice AND cutting through a school of leaping fish.  We were SO READY: I had the cheap vodka in the squirt bottle and the kids were holding the cockpit cushions, ready to throw them below so we could bring the fish aboard and do the bloody job of killing it.  But we remained fishless.

* We failed to catch ANY lobsters in and around Gaulin and Sampson’s, even though we’re sure there are many lurking and laughing at us.  Hence the sympathy lobsters.  (They tasted delicious, even though I expect there’s a special flavor to a lobster caught oneself). 

* Solar panel failure.  One of the solar panels has stopped working, and there’s an elaborate logic game of trying to figure out where a US shipper can send the panel to, and then how to get it to a port that will make sense given the cruising plan.  I think the solution will involve shipping it to us when we’re back in the US, and we’ll send it either to someplace called “Doughboy’s” or to somewhere called “Top and Bottom”.  But we’ve considered variations that involve Pinky, Jeff, or even possibly Chubby, at ports ranging from Fort Lauderdale to Staniel Cay to Georgetown.  It may be necessary to unplug the electric toothbrush if the power situation gets dire.  

*Jonathan had a nasty knife cut on his second favorite pointy finger that has required both Big Jim and Ellen to supervise dressing and the changing of dressings, and to issue medical instructions (largely ignored by Jonathan).  Jonathan’s healing, but it did make me see how careful you need to be around here.  Everything is fine, but should things be un-fine, it would be a matter of a couple of hours to Staniel Cay and then an airplane ride to a place where you could get medical treatment.  It feels so civilized and self-sufficient here on board, and it is, but the solar panel and the wound remind me that the safety nets all around us on shore are hours away, and require a fair amount of thinking and planning to get to.  

*Thomas Cay iced tea is only delicious to one adult on board.  In case you have deviant tastes, here is the recipe:  Cold-brewed Lipton tea, lime juice, and bourbon.  Motto: “tastes like paint thinner, but makes you feel like a winner.”  I advise skipping the Lipton and the lime juice, myself. 

* Still waiting on Johnny Depp and that tray of bloody marys.  

Breakfast is served, so that’s all for now.  When we crack the Little Pipe Cay’s password, we’ll post this….

Jonathan and Jim trying to decide if swimming with the sharks is prudent.

It was. This is what they saw.

And this.

Ellen isn’t the only one who can take a decent selfie.

Staniel Cay, once again

Guess what? More free wifi, that’s what.

This morning when we made our way on deck we saw these two big cats scooting past us with their asymmetricals flying. That was all the inspiration we needed. 

These early risers provided us with incentive to get moving.

So Ellen hoisted anchor, we set sail and had a magnificent run from Galliot Cay (where we passed a very pleasant night at anchor (although things got a little rocky around 4am when wind and tide conspired against us for a little while)) to Staniel Cay. Flew the asymmetrical the whole way from Galliot to Harvey Cay, about 17 miles. Days like today are one of the reasons we are on this adventure. Perfect sailing. Perfect. Sailing. Perfect.

Heaven on earth.

(Here are the thrilling details: we averaged over 6 knots (which is pretty good for a comfy cruising boat of only 36’) and occasionally screamed along at more than 7 knots. That’s a big deal until you stop and realize that now that she is out of her wheelchair, even my mother-in-law could hobble along faster than we were sailing.)

The water was actually a little cool this morning. Yesterday we saw 78 degrees…

Anchored in a new spot for us here in Staniel Cay. We are so close to the Staniel Cay Yacht Club we can pick up their wifi. (Remember, the password is guest1234.) Also because we were unsure if we could get the outboard running in time to collect Jim, Sherry, and Eliot at the airport tomorrow morning, we anchored super close to the Staniel Cay beach, figuring we could row ashore if necessary.

Not necessary.

With help from Ellen and Moss I pulled the carburetor off the outboard again (it’s really a straightforward process (just need a screwdriver and a 10mm socket) and a super simple carb once you get to know it) and gave it another cleaning. The Nissan NS 5B gurus online all advocate treating carburetor problems with a thorough cleaning that includes blasting the thing clear with compressed air. I realized that we actually have a tank of compressed air on board: the SCUBA tank I pulled off the seafloor the last time we were in Staniel Cay. (Good thing I didn’t sell it to Davey on Barefoot II for the $15 he offered me last week.)

This is the greasy, rotten, worthless…oh wait, it works now. Never mind.

Blasted the carburetor. Reinstalled it. And we are back in business. Celebrated by running to shore and picking up some groceries. Even if the outboard doesn’t start tomorrow morning, I’m calling this a successful repair.

Also, check this out: after we anchored today I was making lunch (ok, just ramen, but still) and Ellen jumped in the water to check out the anchor (because there are some corally rocks about 150’ off our stern). She took a look at the fuzzy bottom of Cupcake and started scraping. Then Moss ate her lunch and jumped in to scrub as well. So I was alone on board, eating my lunch, while the girls cleaned the hull. That is evidence of a life well lived.

The cleaning party broke up when a nurse shark swam within a foot of Ellen (who, oblivious to mortal peril, was so focused on the scraping). Moss announced the shark’s presence and everyone clambered back aboard the mother ship.

Bonus post

Now that we are away from Georgetown and the marina (both lots of fun) we are back on our own in quiet Exuma anchorages. That situation means afternoons are calmer and quieter. So I figured I would reward all three of our loyal readers with a bonus posting today.

We had another splendid day. The sun was bright and hot, the water is clear and warm. After filling up the diesel tank on our way out of the marina we headed northwest on the Exuma Sound and hoisted the asymmetrical sail. The wind was light so we didn’t move very fast, but we thoroughly enjoyed the peace and quiet.

Ultimately the GPS told us if we maintained our stately pace, the arrival at the anchorage wouldn’t happen until something like 4am. Not ideal. So we motorsailed the remainder of the day. Once again we pulled fishing lines behind us but caught nothing. Hope springs eternal.

Some time in the afternoon I was just about to read in the shade the headsail cast on the bow when Ellen spotted a plume of black smoke coming from a boat about five miles farther out to sea. We radioed to see if they were in distress, all the while watching the plume become an obvious fire aboard the sailboat. Nobody answered so we altered course to see if there was anything we could do to assist. 

As we approached, we could see someone in a dinghy near the boat which was fully engulfed in flames. The smoke got thicker and thicker, even several miles away we could make out the flames coming from the boat. At some point the mast came down. In the meantime, another sailboat diverted course and followed us east. But a big power yacht sent its go-fast tender to the scene and at 40 mph+ he arrived well before we were closer than a mile away. He radioed that the captain, a singlehander, was unharmed in the dinghy. The tender and its mother ship took the captain aboard but kept their distance from the burning sailboat out of fear that the gas and propane aboard would explode. Our services were not needed so we went back to our course, all the while watching someone’s sailing dream go up in thick ugly black smoke.

In addition to being eagle-eyed, Ellen was very productive during the sail today. She made a big loaf of bread, tortillas, quesadillas, and granola bars. She’s the best.

Shadow of the jib in 9’ of crystal clear water.

She also anchored the boat under sail today. We coasted up to our anchorage under just the jib (you can see its shadow in the picture). At the last minute, Ellen and I furled the jib, then she hustled to the bow, waited for us to coast to a stop, then dropped Pablo to the sandy bottom in 9’. Textbook. And what a gorgeous calm spot. We love the Exumas.

Our anchorage at Galliot Cay is one we’ve wanted to revisit since we were here in 2012 because we remember it as having fantastic snorkeling. We arrived too late this afternoon to check out the snorkeling at the cut (it’s shark hour) but were still early enough to jump in and check the anchor (well set) and the bottom of the boat (nasty…looks like a patchy beard on a high school boy).

Disgusting. Gotta get that cleaned up soon.

Saw a bar jack (caranx ruber) hanging around with a southern sting ray (dasyatis americana). The two of them were together for at least the 20 minutes I spent half-heartedly scrubbing the boat. It’s an example of what the right was worried about when they opposed same-sex marriage. What’s next, interspecies relationships? Slippery slope.

Jack and Ray.

Cruising math problem of the day: the marina charges $0.40/gallon of fresh water (we declined). Our electricity bill for the stay at Emerald Bay was $5.10 and we made 35 gallons of water using that electricity. Was it cost-effective to use their electricity to make our water or should we have just filled our tanks using the marina’s water? Moss knows.

Georgetown wrap-up

Last night we stopped at The Marina at Emerald Bay to do laundry. The marina has a deal where laundry is included in the dockage fee, so we figured that the six loads of laundry we needed to wash (including mattress pads!) would cost us at least $40 at a laundromat and would require a trip in the dinghy across Elizabeth Harbour in Georgetown (a wet, salty ride). So the marina cost seems very reasonable. And the boat is clean as a whistle: we used the shore power to charge batteries, run the vacuum cleaner, charge the toothbrushes, run all the lights and fans, and generally go hog wild with electricity.

Despite the free wifi (which is astonishingly slow), I squandered my time here and did not draft an insightful, thorough, engaging, informative post like I typically do. All you get is this slap-dash submission.

Georgetown was a great time. We fully enjoyed the Cruisers Regatta and ended up staying an extra day so Moss could compete in (and win) the model boat construction and race event.

John, Moss, and Jonathan with Aquamoffin.

She and her pal John from Mojo and Jonathan (excellent name, by the way) from Vivens Aqua built a voodoo catamaran. The boat was rigged with woven palm-frond sails. Ellen had a field day teaching the kids how to weave, and we all pitched in to get Aquamoffin ship shape.

The kids all gathered for the race at the Fruit Bowl. (Side note: the Fruit Bowl is a little protected basin near where many cruisers anchor in Georgetown. It’s named the Fruit Bowl because a handful of moored houseboats are available for rent, each named for a fruit. Mango, Pineapple, Tangerine. You get the idea.)

The variety of junk the cruiser kids lashed, taped, hot-glued together was pretty impressive. But Aquamoffin had size and sail-area on all of them. Moss and her team won, Moss got to take home the prize: a Regatta t-shirt.

Race start.

Sand castle competition entry.

Tug of War. Boys vs. girls. Girls won.

In less salutary news, the dinghy outboard died. I won’t get into the details because they are still irksome to me. But basically, the carburetor is clogged and leaking. (Ironic, isn’t it? The carburetor, at the same time, refuses to pass fuel to the engine but is ready, even eager to dribble fuel everywhere else.) I’ll get it all fixed, I am reasonably certain. I am hopeful I will get it fixed in time to pick up Jim, Sherry, and Eliot at the airport so they don’t need to swim to Cupcake when they arrive on Wednesday.

The accursed outboard (on the right…I’m the one on the left).

(If you’re reading this in time, Jim, see if you can find a carburetor rebuild kit for a Nissan NS 5B engine. It’s not critical but it would probably be a good idea to have one on hand.)

Cruising tip of the day: check to see if your outboard engine comes from the factory with a fuel filter. Because if it doesn’t… Anyway, if like the Nissan we have, it doesn’t come with a fuel filter, you might want to install one. I actually have a fuel filter I brought as a spare, unaware that Nissan didn’t even bother to install one at the factory. I will be installing the filter when I get back to working on that greasy, smoky, unreliable engine later today.)

Beach on the Exuma Sound side of Georgetown.

Dinghy full of supplies from Georgetown: groceries under the dry bag. (Why not in the dry bag? Long story.) Also propane and water and beer we found for just $24/case which is why we got light beer.

Georgetown

The vibe aboard Cupcake is radically different now that we are anchored in Georgetown. This place is crazy – there are more than 270 boats anchored here, many in town for the Cruisers Regatta. Regatta includes some sailboat racing, some volleyball, some kayak racing, some costume parties, some dances, paddle board races, rowboat races, sailing dinghy races, some cookouts, some sand castle competitions, and on and on.

This morning we got towed to the beach by Jennabird because we were operating with an engineless Mr. Flowerpot. The dinghy was de-powered because Moss and John from Mojo were competing in the blind rowboat race. The oarsman (John) was blindfolded while the navigator (Moss) told him where to go. (They were well-suited for their roles.) 

The kids had an excellent chance to do well, but when the dads pushed the dinghy off at the start, we gave too firm a shove and Moss toppled off backwards from her perch on the transom.

In the ensuing chaos, John kept rowing, blindly. Moss came up sputtering and then struck out to swim and catch up with her ride. John figured he was rowing straight and that was why Moss was so quiet. She finally caught up to him, climbed aboard to cheers from the crowd on the beach, and off they went. Alas, they did not win. But there is no doubt they were the crowd favorite.

We are partially provisioned for our next batch of guests. The expectation is that we will stick around for some of the remaining events in Georgetown (invited to race on Mojo, plan on a sand castle entry, and of course lots of kid-boat fun) and then hoof it back up to Staniel Cay in time to meet Jim, Sherry, and Eliot next week. It’s about a 60 mile trip back up the southern Exumas. But with the prevailing winds blowing from the ESE we ought to have a fabulous couple of days sailing to get there.

LEGO rendition of the dinghy mishap.

Busy week

We’ve crossed 24º latitude and are closing in on the Tropic of Cancer. (Landlubbers: look it up on the Internets because the Tropic of Cancer is pretty cool stuff. It’s the highest latitude where the sun is directly overhead at the summer solstice. Between Tropic of Cancer to the north and Tropic of Capricorn to the south, actually. We ought to cross the Tropic of Cancer in March when we head to the Ragged Islands. FYI, the Tropic of Cancer was named by the Greeks, I think.) 

Side note: we traveled something like 57 miles on our very first day in late July when we sailed from Maine to Isles of Shoals. In the two months since we arrived in the Exumas we have traveled 50 miles. We like this pace much much better.

Sailed from that lovely bay just south of Black Point where we spent two nights relaxing, fixing things, and reading, down to Rudder Cay to see some new territory and reconnect with Piper. The sail down was invigorating. We had the mainsail double-reefed and maybe half of the jib rolled out. (Landlubbers: our jib is on a contraption called a roller-fuller which acts like a cheap roll up window shade (except it is neither cheap nor a window shade) and lets us keep the sail furled on the headstay until we need it and unroll as much as is appropriate for the wind conditions. (Landlubbers: the headstay is the heavy wire that runs from the top of the mast to the bow of the boat. That wire, in conjunction with the backstay (which runs from the top of the mast to the back of the boat) and the shrouds (which run from the top of the mast to either side of the boat, and another set from the upper spreader to the sides of the boat, and another set from the lower spreader to the sides of the boat) holds up the mast.))

Crystal clear water. Last night the moon was so bright and the water so clear we could see our anchor in the sand.

The reason we had such little canvas flying is that the wind was up – about 20-22 knots with gusts into the low 30s. If you set the right amount of sail, you can move the boat safely, comfortably, and swiftly. Which is exactly what we did on the reach down to Rudder Cay where we met Piper and another kid boat, Andromedé. The place was lousy with kid boats and because of the weather which held us all there for a while, we anticipated several days of snorkeling and socializing.

We were invited to Piper for sundowners (drinks) but it turned into dinner because the bounty of fish and lobster those guys speared was so great there was enough to feed us. We brought wine and salami to the mix. A good time was had by all.

A good time was not had Monday morning when, during the anchor-raising, Ellen got her hand caught between the chain and the cleat just as a gust of wind pushed the boat back and snapped the chain tight. Torn glove, torn skin, and much blood loss ensued. She cleaned the wound and stayed happy as a lark all day. When we got to the Rudder Cay anchorage Ellen refused to let me take over anchoring duties. Because she is such a tough customer. We are lucky to have her aboard.

Nevertheless, Ellen declined to swim in the afternoon because she did not want her mangled, bloody paw attracting apex-predators. 

Not a lot of room under that keel.

I checked on the anchor alone. The anchor was fine, but boy were we cutting it close on the depth of water under the keel.

On Tuesday we had Finn and Mackie from Piper over for pancake breakfast (and to give their parents Lisa and Tripp a break). The kids stayed and played with Moss until afternoon when we all got into dinghies to explore Darby Cay. We were met by three other kid boats: Andromedé, Mohini, and Bliss. Nine kids swarmed ashore, and we made our way to the ruin of a mansion said to be the former home of a Nazi sympathizer who secretly provisioned German U-boats during World War II. The island was completely overgrown but the buildings still showed their former grandeur. Stone walls were crumbling in the undergrowth, snakes were sunning themselves on the paths. We found a big cave with bats hanging from the ceiling and big spiders in webs on the walls. The island had goats, snakes, spiders, bats, ruins, creepy history…pretty much everything we could hope for. Moss wrote a post about the experience.

Castle tower being reclaimed by the plants.

Despite the fact that Andromedé spotted some brazen lemon sharks in the water earlier, and despite the fact that the afternoon was getting long in the tooth (which means it was shark hour), several of us went into the water to check out the coral and try some spearfishing. I caught nothing because I didn’t bring my spear. Then again, I didn’t get chomped by any sharks either.

We had a leisurely trip down to Leaf Cay near Norman’s Pond Cay. Our mission profile for this part of our adventure is to take things very slowly and explore as much of the Exumas as we can. So rather than scoot down to Georgetown (where, admittedly, we need to be for supplies in advance of Jim, Sherry, and Eliot’s visit on the 27th) we are making a day trip into a week long exploration.

At Leaf I went on an epic spearfishing outing with Piper  and Andromedé. We were out hunting for about four hours, diving some pretty deep coral most of the time. At our first stop I shot at and missed a lobster in about 18’ of water but it retreated into a crevice and I never saw it again. There was a good deal of pressure for me to bring home dinner.

We kept moving from spot to spot, looking for good fish to catch and eat. Saw two enormous grouper, a few barracuda, a bunch of reef fish. The snorkeling was pretty much excellent, I really enjoy the deeper diving, at least at first. After a few hours of repeated dives to 15-20’ I was pretty well worn out. 

Our last stop was at a bunch of coral right at Adderly Cut where we sailed in to our anchorage. I saw what I though were two lobsters in a little hole, took aim, and missed. Turned out they were not two lobsters but instead one enormous monster. It retreated into the hole, I was about to give up and swim away when it emerged from a back entrance to the spot and started crawling across the coral. I shot it quickly and got it back to the dinghy before I completely freaked out.

This is Nala from Andromedé holding the monster lobster.

It weighed around ten pounds. I am still a little bit in shock about the whole episode.

The weather has been remarkably settled lately, so we have been able to explore some little islands which would otherwise make untenable stops for the night. Right now we are anchored off Black Cay which is just to the east of the northern tip of Great Exuma Island. Moss was invited to ride down on Piper from Leaf Cay, so she was our spy – trying to figure out how they catch fish offshore. But Piper outsmarted us by catching nothing so the intel-mission was a bust. However, she is sailing with them again today. Our hopes are high.

Beach at Black Cay. Our girl Cupcake in the background.

Hermit crabs feasting on a coconut.

Our kid boat flotilla expanded from three to four when Andromedé, Cupcake, and Piper were joined by Mojo. The kids kayaked, swam, fished, played LEGOs, and explored Black Cay all day. The adults did pretty much the same thing. In the evening we all got together ashore on the strip of pink sand beach for potluck dinner and roasted marshmallows. This spot is another slice of tropical bliss. 

Ellen looked at the charts and found yet another piece of perfection, Hamlet Cay. So that is where we will head for tonight. It’s under three miles away, not a particularly taxing journey.

Sea snail Ellen spotted near the boat. You can see the trail it left off to the right.

Two mermaids. Word on the street is that the magician David Copperfield commissioned this sculpture of the piano and mermaid (seated) and had it installed near Rudder Cay. Ellen is the mermaid wearing the mask.

Maintenance day

Today was a maintenance day. Initially we thought we would head further south and join a mess of kid boats anchored about 16 miles from here at Rudder Cay. But the day was so windy and our anchorage so secure, we decided to just take it easy.

We divided the day among our usual activities: schoolwork (Moss is learning about mean, median, and mode although this new-fangled math of hers doesn’t use those terms yet), reading, swimming, and maintenance.

This may be TMI for those of you with vivid imaginations, but because there are no boats nearby, Ellen and I have been skinny-dipping. It is a treat to be able to swim, shower, towel off on deck without worrying about prying eyes. My concern is, of course, that our naked bodies will just attract crowds of admirers. That sort of attention just gets exhausting after a while. (Don’t bother scrolling down, there are no pictures of us. This is a family blog.)

Anyway, last night the wind was howling from the east, probably blowing well into the mid-30 knot range in gusts. Thank goodness for Pablo and all that chain. Cupcake held fast and we all slept without worries. (I also checked the chart and realized that in the unlikely event the anchor dragged, we would drift at least 15 miles downwind before we would have a chance of hitting anything.)

Despite the wind, the day was lovely with fast-moving clouds and bright sun. (I really want to use the word “scudding” in this sentence somewhere. There, I just did.)

And in the maintenance department, we all worked together to replace the autopilot with the new unit brought down by Tom and Delwyn. It’s installed, wired, tested, and most importantly, functioning well. Tomorrow we will see how it does at sea, but all preliminary indications are positive.

All the flags have been repaired and reinstalled except our yacht club burgee (landlubbers: a burgee is a wee flag). That FPYC (Flying Point Yacht Club) burgee was so tattered we had to retire the poor thing. The cool old Maine state flag is about 25% shorter than it was when new but has been hemmed to take care of the fraying. Ellen even re-stitched the US flag flying at the stern where it has started to fall apart. That harsh tropical sun is no friend of fabrics.

Stargazing has been excellent lately. This part of the Exumas is far enough from any sky-glow that the only light pollution we see is from masthead lights on anchored boats. With the waxing crescent moon, the night sky is a beautifully spangled wonder. Last night I taught Moss how to find north using the Big Dipper. 

Now she can find her way home if, for some reason, she prefers shivering through the four remaining months of Maine winter to cruising with us. 

NOTICE: technical watermaker jibber jabber ahead. Stop reading here and you won’t miss much.

We’ve also been experiencing a little difficulty with the watermaker. Although the product water is well within the acceptable levels of dissolved solids, the numbers have been creeping up. (Landlubbers: for our purposes, water purity is measured in parts per million of total dissolved solids (have I described this stuff already? If I have, sorry for the repetition.) We have a little TDS meter that gives us a reading on the water the watermaker produces so we know it is safe to drink before we send it to the tank. Any TDS reading below 700 ppm is considered acceptable.) 

The best TDS readings we have seen have been in the 200ppm range but last week we started seeing numbers in the mid 500s and then high 600s. Troubling stuff. Additionally, it seems like we’ve not been producing the 6 to 7 gallons/hour we were used to. Lately more like 5 gallons/hour at the most. 

Anyway, this afternoon after the autopilot success, I changed the prefilters (which are probably unrelated to the TDS and output issue) and started the watermaker. At first the TDS readings were crazy high (680+) but over time they dropped to less-upsetting 500s. Then I realized that running the watermaker off the batteries with the sun low in the sky meant the pump was getting less than 13 volts. More volts means more power to the pump. More power to the pump means more pressure through the watermaker membrane. More pressure to the membrane means lower TDS and more gallons per hour. 

So as a test we started the engine, the voltage jumped up to 13.5 or so and the TDS dropped to the low 400s. Still isn’t the 200s we used to see but it’s much better than what we were seeing last week. I’ll keep an eye on things. We will make a point of running the watermaker during the sunniest part of the day from now on.

Cruising tip of the day: put some kind of UV protectant on your flexible plastic solar panels to protect them from sun damage. That way, when you take a look at them on maintenance day and realize they are getting hazy, you won’t have to wax them like I did today. Should have been waxing them all along. 

Betsy Ross

In order to gain admission to some kind of yacht club/sailing club/commune thing, Tom just passed a seamanship test back at home. So it was with great authority that he advised us our Bahamas courtesy flag was flying from the wrong side of the boat. When Ellen and I brought the flags down to switch sides this afternoon, we decided all the flags needed some TLC. So Ellen got all Betsy Ross and hemmed the flags back to some sort of respectability. Crisis averted.

This morning we woke up early and were all in the dinghy by 7am to take Tom & Delwyn to the airport to catch their flight back home. We all agreed that the commute to the airport was about as excellent as such things go: it was a 10 minute dinghy ride across the spectacular clear waters. Tom & Delwyn were the only passengers on their flight, so it took off as soon as we arrived…an hour early. Imagine.

Our week with the Canadians was wonderful. The weather was perfect, we got some magnificent sailing and snorkeling and hanging around and dining with them. They are welcome back on Cupcake any time.

Getting ready to put our sign on top of Boo Boo Hill on Warderick Wells.

After two nights at Warderick Wells we went for one last snorkel before leaving the park. How jaded have we become? We rated the swim a 7.0/10, tops. Because all we saw was a little 4’ nurse shark with a remora, a big triggerfish, a barracuda, a bunch of reef fish, and a big ugly lobster. Yawn.

Bell Rock at Cambridge Cay.

We enjoyed a night at Cambridge Cay, as I mentioned in the last post. Went for a nice walk ashore where Moss and I built another voodoo catamaran. Voodoo Cat V was launched in the mangrove swamp, the source of the midges and mosquitos. We will see if she does any good.

Moss with Voodoo Cat V.

Sailing from Cambridge to Sampson Cay under a double-reefed mainsail and full jib was another fantastic ride. We were cruising at an easy 6.5 knots, topping out at 7.2 through magically clear, calm seas. Fantastic stuff.

Sampson Cay proved, once again, to be a safe calm spot to ride out stiff breezes from the east.

Our last night with guests was passed near Thunderball again. Curiously, we had a hard time getting the anchor to set because we kept finding thin sand over limestone. When Ellen and I dove on the anchor to see what was going on, I spotted a scuba tank on the bottom. No sign of the diver, just a pile of bones with a mask and snorkel. (Kidding about the bones and snorkel.) So now we have a scuba tank but no regulator. 

Nicest laundromat we know.

After Tom & Delwyn departed, we filled up on diesel and gas at Staniel Cay then scooted down to Black Point to take care of laundry and tank up with water. Hit the grocery stores, dumped the trash. We are fully loaded and ready for the next adventure.
Tonight we are anchored south on Great Guana Cay, our southernmost point on the whole trip. 

Look it up:

N 24* 4’ 25”

W 76* 23’ 4”

BIG YACHT. tiny cupcake.

Look at the long legs on that child!

Found art.

From the top of the hill at Cambridge Cay you can see the Sound on the left, the brown mangrove swamp in the mid ground, and the Banks in the background.

Happy happy.

It’s not a selfie, it’s a picture of what we call Ellen’s OCD fries.

Canadian Invasion

The Canadians have arrived! After some weather delays getting to Staniel Cay from western Canada, Tom and Delwyn are with us aboard Cupcake for a week. We passed a calm night anchored just west of Thunderball Grotto (convenient to both excellent snorkeling and airport collecting). In the morning we snorkeled the grotto then set out about eight miles to the north to check out Thomas Cay, an anchorage we’ve been eager to explore in Pipe Creek. When we were at Little Pipe Cay with Simon early last month we could see boats over here and were eager to try it out ourselves. 

Ellen, Moss, Jonathan, Delwyn, Tom.

We motored east through the cut behind Big Majors and about a mile and a half out onto the Sound we found water over 1,000’ deep and set our fishing lines. Didn’t catch anything but enjoyed the gentle sail up to Thomas Cay. The seas were fairly calm, the winds were under 15 knots, the sun was shining, and the water was gorgeous indigo.

Our anchorage was to the west of Thomas Cay where the tide flow was so strong the boat rode to the current instead of the wind. We all played in the crystal clear water for an hour or so. 

Thomas Cay cut.

Both Tom and Delwyn put in some practice and have already mastered the Jennabird Flip into the dinghy. Their goals for the week were met on their first full day here! Finally everyone can get down to the business of serious relaxation.

After a shockingly calm night at Thomas Cay (really, the anchorage was as still as a pond) we took Mr. Flowerpot to shore and followed a footpath through some short palm trees. The path led to a beach bordering the cut between Thomas Cay and Joe Cay. We hunted for shells on the beach, skipped stones in the water, and soaked up the beauty of the area. On the way back to Cupcake Delwyn and Moss decided it would be more fun for us to tow them behind the dinghy while they rode on a little float. So we did.

The wind was light, but from the north. So the trip to Warderick Wells was a motorboat ride. We fished along the drop off where the water was more than 1,000’ deep but caught nothing. Then we arrived at the mooring field in the Exuma Land and Sea Park late in the afternoon. Turns out it is almost exactly seven years ago that we were last at the island.

Today, after a snorkel, we dropped the mooring at Warderick Wells and had a magnificent beam reach down to Cambridge Cay where we are once again on a mooring. Cupcake  was hitting 7.25 knots on the reach, passed a couple of other cruising boats, and got to kick up her heels and be glorious.

Today is Ellen’s birthday and to celebrate she made herself a chocolate cake under sail and is now taking a rest before making meatballs and spaghetti for dinner. Delwyn and Tom serenaded her with a happy birthday/ukulele song first thing in the morning. 

Splash!

In the week before the Canadian Invasion, we spent more time in the Staniel Cay area with Piper. The weather provided us with another cold front, and Piper bugged out to Pipe Creek with Mojo. We stuck around Big Majors because we needed to stay in the area to pick up our guests, and were rewarded with some dramatic meteorological displays. Mostly wind and rain. But Big Majors is a spot with super protection and we trust our ground tackle (landlubbers, that means our anchor and chain).

Dangerous looking sky.

The rain went on all day and was heavy enough for me to scrub the deck and all the teak. Then I was able to take a rain shower and rinse with the downpour. Finally, I used all the fresh rainwater in the dinghy to do a load of laundry. Side note: when I test the product water from the watermaker it typically has between 200 - 300 parts per million of dissolved solids. Moss suggested that we test the ppm of the rainwater. It clocked in at an astonishingly low 11 ppm, and that was after the rain slid off the salty boat canvas. 

The double edged sword of spending time with sailing friends is that the social calendar is absolutely grueling. Last week we attended three dinner parties! Think of it: one night it’s stir fry, pasta salad, Whirly-Pop buttery popcorn, and a movie with Jennabird. The next night it’s curried rice and Girl Scout cookies aboard Piper. And then it’s conch fritters, spinach rice, and pudding on Cupcake. 

Soft shackle.

Maintenance update: Inspired by Piper, I taught myself how to make Dyneema soft shackles. These are basically shackles made of high-tech rope, they are lighter and stronger and cheaper than stainless steel ones. So we are trying them out on the dinghy-lashing-system we use to tie Mr. Flowerpot to the deck when we are underway.

I also finally got around to drilling out the larger hole the teardrop zinc for the centerboard pin. Installed it. Done. Probably put another one on in a month or two so Cupcake will be protected until the end of her sailing season. Ugh. Why am I even thinking about the end of her sailing season? It’s just February!

Zinc mill.

Installing the keel zinc.

Here’s a cruising tip: We’ve learned that if you act like you belong there, you can sneak into the pool area at the Staniel Cay Yacht Club. They’ve got a tiny little swimming pool and, more important, wifi. (The password is “guest1234” but don’t spread it around.)

Like a plumber's butt

It has been a week of kid-boat-craziness. We met two great boats: Mojo and Piper. They each have two kids approximately the same age as Moss. So we’ve been hanging out together, snorkeling, spearfishing, exploring, playing LEGOs, and visiting for a really fun week. If she can be convinced to write one, you can read a Moss-post to see what that was all about. (Encourage her to write on the blog: moss.handelman@gmail.com.)

Last week we snorkeled back to a spot north of Big Majors where we speared the previous lobster. In addition to seeing some beautiful coral and reef fish, Ellen spotted a monster lobster. The thing was huge, easily 18-20” long. It kind of freaked me out, so once again I had to build up my nerve before I could bring myself to spear it. (Side note, Moss was aboard Piper with the  other kids when we radioed to tell them we got the lobster. She immediately asked, “Did you get it right between the eyes like you always do?” Cold-blooded just like her mother.)

So I did get it right between the eyes and when I did, the lobster immediately scooted backwards under the coral where it had been hiding. The lobster was so big and strong, I couldn’t pull it back out. Had to drop the spear so I could swim to the surface to breathe. Dove down again and had to brace my feet (in fins) against the sand and pull on the spear with both hands to get that thing out of the coral.

The trick to not attracting sharks is to get the speared creature out of the water so the thrashing and bleeding doesn’t bring unwanted attention. When I lifted the lobster, flapping and dripping black nastiness, on the spear it was too heavy to hold out of the water with one hand. Too heavy to swim the 1/8 mile back to the dinghy. Turned out to be too heavy to swim with at all…it weighed around eight pounds. 

Ellen set off to fetch the dinghy while I stood with the lobster in about four feet of water on a patch of dead coral. After a few minutes, Ellen came back because she went the wrong way, got into a shallow coral dead-end, and got too tired to go further. She came back to me and waited with the catch, just managing to keep it under control, while I struck out for Mr. Flowerpot. We got into the boat without mishap (except to the lobster which Ellen again ripped in half) and made our way back to the mother ship.

This is just a little bit of the post-lobster-fry carnage.

That evening we hosted eleven people (Piper and Mojo) for breaded fried lobster and potluck dinner (home-made tortillas, cabbage salad, bean salad). We had so much extra lobster meat that we gave a bunch to Mojo and still had enough left over for lobster sushi the next day. (Side note: even-tempered Ellen had a small meltdown when she realized many of our sushi nori wraps were too crumbly to use.)

Overcoming her disappointment, Ellen rallied and made delicious tortilla soup (with home-made tortillas) last night. What with the beans, the fried lobster, and the tortilla soup our imaginary parrot has had a lot to say lately.

Mi esposa trabaja en una tortilleria.

Speaking of gas, I finally figured out why the outboard engine has been drooling oily gas whenever we tilt it out of the water. Initially I though the carburetor was leaking when tilted, but it isn’t. When the motor-cover latch fell off (and sank, never to be seen again) last week I took a good look at the engine and realized the gas tank is the source of the leak. And when the motor is tilted, the mess finds its way out through drain holes.

So our outboard’s gas tank is like the proverbial plumber’s butt: it has a crack in it.

Q: how is the gas tank like a plumber’s butt?

I patched the crack (in the gas tank) with one of my magic potion epoxies and the leak was cured. 

For three days. (Side note: the epoxy holds on the cracked soap-dispensers in the galley and the head, but not so much on the gas tank.)

Sorry about the blurry picture, but these slack-jawed kids are riveted by Star Wars playing on the TV in the bar where we had dinner.

Yesterday in advance of the coming cold front I pulled the leaky tank again and tried to seal it with 3M 4200 adhesive. I have a third option up my sleeve when that patch fails, but I remain optimistic that the 3M will actually hold. Once the adhesive fully cures and I reinstall the tank later today I will know where things stand.

That’s the shadow of our mainsail on the bottom of the sea.

A few days ago we sailed down to Black Point for a change of scenery and for the laundry machines. Along the way we anchored for lunch at a little rocky spot just east of Harvey Cay so we could snorkel.

The water was so clear I was able to check to set of the anchor with the binoculars!

In Black Point we enjoyed some good rum punch and Kalik beer ashore with Jennabird, Mojo, and Piper in the evenings, walked to the blowhole across the island, and generally enjoyed Black Point once again.

Tempestuous day on the east side of Black Point.

Yesterday we had a fabulous spinnaker run to Staniel Cay where we are hiding from another cold front behind Big Majors. After so many days of running around and playing, it’s time we got back to educating our littlest crew member again.

We area also getting ready for our next visitors, Tom and Delwyn, who we met aboard their boat Mahalo the last time we were down here. Incidentally, we spotted seven year old boat cards from our pals Alchemy, and Mahalo stapled to the wall in the Rockside Laundromat on Black Point. Our card from 2012 was there as well.

Ice!

In other riveting news, we defrosted the freezer the other day. The ice on the freezer was about two inches thick in spots. Cleared that out and we are much more efficient now.

Multi-species selfie: Ellen with Spike, who visited when Lily from Mojo brought her to check out Cupcake.