First Major Passage: Bahamas to Colombia

25. Jan. 2015
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Colombia, Passages, The Bahamas
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6 Comments

Author: Pete

Location: Cartagena, Colombia

Sailed on the first day out of Inagua. Felt odd to leave port in the late afternoon with night coming on and no land in sight. Sailing overnight was a novel experience again after not doing it for some time.

Our second day the wind died in the Windward Passage between Haiti and Cuba, so we motored for about sixteen hours on the flat seas. The ocean almost became a mirror it was so still aside from our wake. As we passed close to the southern peninsula of Haiti we could smell the land, sweet like flowers. Miranda thought sweet like human musk. Eeew…. She’s weird like that. Played Settlers of Catan and Pass the Pigs taking advantage of the flat.

Body is adjusting slowly to the awkward motion of the boat. It’s pretty loud in the hulls from slapping waves as we were on a beam reach doing five knots. Morale was good though, if slightly sick feeling.

It’s short of like a week long hangover after a college house party. Everyone is lethargic, and slightly nauseous. We sit and stare into space at the horizon and talk sparingly. Every couple of ours someone makes a big pot of starchy bland food that we all eat quietly and feel better for a bit. Dishes pile up. Bright lights are painful. Everyone is just a little unwashed. Does that bring back memories? We’re making them right here.

I guess it’s a challenge. The night watches are still novel and beautiful. The sky lights up with the stars and you can see clouds, waves, and horizon. It’s a peaceful, if boring four hours. The right song comes on the iPod, and it becomes a solo dance party breaking out on the deck in a lifejacket and tethered to the boat. They can’t hold these moves down though.

Once in a while the realization of how far we are from anything and what we’re actually doing crosses my mind. I feel fear and elation. And sick. Always just a little sick. Damned the dry heaves, full speed ahead. Onward to Colombia!

Day four in the passage. Wind steadily increasing as we go south. Now about 15 knots. Still choppy, uncomfortable seas, but nothing ferocious. Altered course 10 degrees starboard for our final run to Cartagena, which lays 116 miles away. I think we’ll be ready to get off the boat.

Last night on watch was like living a dream. I’m on the midnight to 4AM graveyard shift, and generally pretty spaced out at the beginning of watch. Throw in clouds and no moon, which blurs perception, and the boat trailing streams of bioluminescent sparks, as well as being hundreds of miles from anything, and no boats in sight for days. Pretty far out there. It’s nice on deck. Down below the creaks and bangs sound like the boat is coming apart. …but I know she won’t. Not my Tayrona.

Last day of the passage was a trial. We went to bed with moderate winds and low swell. Over the course of the night we passed 11 degrees N and the trade wind predictably caught us. Screaming 25 knot winds gusted 30 and kicked up big rollers. We were beam reaching, which rolled the boat disconcertingly. Tayrona started surfing on the waves, reaching the troughs and veering to port, climbing the next under sail and repeating.

Down below trying to sleep in the roller coaster of creaking fiberglass and hammering waves was impossible. We did our best. I relieved Miranda of duty at midnight and kept it together until 2 AM when the wind had reached 20 knots and we had a Cartagena-bound freighter to dodge. I couldn’t raise it on the radio, so I woke Mir to help me reef and tack back north out of the big ship’s way. The seas were so big by that point we couldn’t swing the bow through the wind to tack. I fired up the engines, but the starboard wouldn’t turn over. There may have been some swearing involved, but eventually we got the boat tacked over. Liza was up by now roused by the vulgarity washing over the decks. The lights of the big boat grew closer. I thought I was sure which way it was headed and then wasn’t convinced. The rolling waves bucked and skidded the boat. The dark felt overbearing in the cloudy, moonless night.

Then the fore and aft lights unaligned and the freighter passed us a mile off our port and slid south. By now it was 3 AM so Liza and I put together an anchor, chain, and several warps as a drogue, and also double reefed the sails. The combination slowed the boat to six knots and kept it from surfing radically. Still big walls of wave thundered in to our aft quarter, rolling the boat sickeningly up and forward. We stood at the helm and watched them come like a car wreck that you couldn’t help rubberneck. It was sickeningly worrisome that maybe, though not likely, but just maybe, one of those waves out there was steep and tall enough to roll us.

Eventually it was Liza’s 4 AM watch but I stayed up, too juiced to go below. We ate all the cookies and tried to keep hydrated. The waves pounded on. Dawn broke, as did our hopes that the weather would moderate at daylight. I don’t know if seeing the monsters is better than just imagining them. I went below and pretended to sleep for an hour.

It was into the early afternoon that we approached the coast and seeing it through the haze got to bellow a legitimate, “Land Ho!” Actually, I’m not sure that I can bellow, even if I tried. The waves and wind moderated and a pod of dolphins welcomed us to the continent. We sailed to South Amercia. We were exhausted.

Ran with the wind under full sail past Zona Norte, my old kite beach, and our friends’ apartment, past the walled city that I love, and beside Boca Grande’s glittering highrises. So close. We were so close. Pulled down sails and motored towards the shallow entrance to Boca Grande and Wendy, the port engine, started screaming. Well, her alarm did. I shut her down and found no coolant. So we loitered under sail until it cooled off and I could get more coolant in, then motored over the submerged pirate wall into the bay. The smell of fried goods wafted through the air from shore. We dodged skiffs and slid past the statue of Mary protecting the harbor. We anchored off Club Nautica with the other scabby looking boats.

We were home. We’d made it back to Cartagena, Colombia, South America under sail. Back to where it all began. I love this city and I can’t wait to walk her streets again. But now to bed, at 7:30 PM. Gork, out.

Matthew Town, Great Inagua Island

12. Jan. 2015
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The Bahamas
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1 Comment

Author: Pete

Left the open, desolate anchorage off the south tip of Acklins island in the late afternoon and headed southeast after passing the tall, white, empty lighthouse on Castle Island. Hugged the island to keep us out of shipping lanes in the Mira Por Vos passage. Our first overnight sail up ahead of us, we talked through our game plans should things go awry, and trimmed our sails as tight as possible to make it to Great Inagua without tacking or motoring.

The sun sank, fired a brilliant orange, and then all too quickly left us in darkness. My mom’s fancy solar lights lit up to keep us company. Those things are awesome! With no moon to speak of I was amazed at how much natural light was in the air even with no cloud cover and no other ambient light. You could still see clouds, the horizon, and wavelets. And let’s face it. When you’re offshore, that’s about all there is to see anyway!

Also saw lights of a few ships passing in the night. Reminded me of a melodic song by Brazilian Girls. The close ones popped up on our AIS display, though I couldn’t get a copy from them when I hailed them on the SSB and VHF. Maybe they were ignoring me like a big brother ignores a dorky little sibling. Story of my life.

With fifteen knots of wind we scooted right along at six knots, the motion a touch uncomfortable since we were heading into the wind and waves, but not altogether unpleasant. We had some dinner in the dark, trying to keep our eyes on the darkened horizon for the sake of our stomachs. Then it was time to start our watches. We kept three-hour stints, which sometimes turned into four. One went below and tried to sleep while the other read or looked out into the black, and studies the horizon every ten minutes to look for big, fast, scary freighters. The motion and noise of slapping waves below made falling asleep annoying, but not impossible. After a few shifts, some annoyingly erratic wind just before dawn, and lots of midnight snacks, the east horizon glowed orange, and the sun shot beams out of the cloud bank. We’d made our first overnight! And we were bushed. Pulled into the anchorage off the rocky shore of Mathew Town, Great Inagua, and slept until the afternoon.

The next few days we explored the town, picked up Liza from the airport, and made some Dutch friends along the way!

Martjin and Seeneka were in town to survey the construction of the new port, as the old one left something to be desired. Bahamas Air lost their GPS antennas, so they had a little time to do some depth measurement of the waters surrounding the island. Thus, we happily decided to postpone the boat projects we had in mind in favor of a sailing day up to the Man of War Bay with our new friends! They showed up with snacks, drinks, and a heavy bruce anchor Martjin found on the bottom of the quay! They were both experience sailors (more so than us!) and it was fabulous to have a full crew to work the sails. Made eight knots heading north and were shadowed for some time by a pod of dolphins playing in our bow wake. The island’s main revenue is from Morton Salt, which makes it’s sea salt here. Huge mounds of the precious stuff loomed tall on shore and a freighter loaded maneuvered in to load up.

Pulled into the bay and all jumped in the water to do some spearfishing! Only got one fish, but made a tasty fried snack for us. Sailed back in the dark under blazing stars and made dinner in our old anchorage. Really fun, impromptu day with some really interesting, storied, and fun people. That’s what we live for.

This morning, Chris Parker’s forecast sounded promising for the Windward Passage and the crossing to Colombia. We made haste, and got to work readying the boat for an afternoon departure tomorrow. I worked engines, Liza did decks and rigging, and Miranda worked galley. In six hours we had engine fluids and filters changed, running rigging checked, foreword lockers battened down, and lunches made for the days on passage. A little provisioning tomorrow and we’ll be off like and reaching south! Colombia here we come!

ps- Check out Liza’s take on Great Inagua here and here!

pps- Credit to Sanneke Reiche for the top-most image.

Bimini, the Bahamas- our first foreign port!

23. Nov. 2014
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The Bahamas
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1 Comment

Author: Miranda

So, here we are! In the Bahamas! After making a short, but tenacious, trip across the Gulf Stream to North Bimini Island. We have been anchored here for almost a week, as the winds are blowing like a banshee, socking us in.

Let’s start with the trip over- not exactly the smoothest of sailing, but we survived. It was fine. The obvious heroines (Wendy and Belinda, remember?) of the trip were our twin Volvo diesels which pushed us straight east the entirety of the trip- from anchor up to anchor down. Yes, we spent the entire day motoring straight into the wind. So, “why cross in those conditions?” you ask. Basically, it’s by far the least of two evils. Being that the Gulf Stream runs from south to north, you don’t want to be anywhere near it when the winds are coming from the opposite direction. This makes for nasty, confused seas. So, northerly winds and the Gulf Stream are one big, bad combination. And, once the northern winter winds in Florida start, they rarely ever stop. The winds were mild(ish), 10-15 knots, so it wasn’t perfect, but it was definitely the weather window we were waiting for.

We pulled up anchor just as first light was peeking over the horizon, found our buddy boat, and headed east.

We were surprised at just how far our cell phone signal reached, so we both took turns calling family and friends from several miles offshore- to squeeze as much out of our U.S. cell phone while we had it, and it was just plain fun to share our excitement for the day ahead with loved ones.

There were two portions of the trip when the sea was at its worst- right at the beginning and then right, smack-dab in the middle of the Gulf Stream. Any trip made below decks during the day made us both feel a little woozy, but it was especially puke-y feeling around then. Per Casey Becker’s (I know, I know Casey Harrison’s) suggestion, as we headed through the worst waves, we blasted what I like to call “weight room jams” (some good ol’ Metalica, Def Leopard, Offspring- just think back to what they used to play in your high school weight room, and you’ll know what I mean).

It’s a somewhat anticlimactic moment to find yourself entering the Gulf Stream. People talk about it as a “raging river in the ocean.” As we were getting 5, 6, 7, 8 miles offshore, Pete and I kept looking and at each other and saying “so, are we in it yet? Are we in the Gulf Stream?” There’s no mistaking the odd feeling of being sloshed around in weird directions once you’re in the middle of this “river,” but the entrance… not so noticeable.

Here’s our new friends from Canada, Brian and Yvonne, in Options 3. They made the crossing with us and are now hanging out with us in Bimini. Really great folks. Lots of expertise, plenty of fun discussion, and great euchre players when the weather is especially yucky.

Headed out past Stiltsville. I was hoping we could get a closer look at these interesting homes, but we were too far away to poke around.

Some menacing, little waves.

Your first time noticing that there’s no land in sight is empowering… if a little scary.

Notice the lack of horizon in this picture- taken as we met a wave, head-on. Just a little spray.

And, finally, Land Ho!

Pete put up our first ever courtesy flag and later we toasted our first passage (of many, hopefully) with some champagne. Thanks Lily!

As far as life in Bimini goes, we generally see the sun pop out for an hour or two in the morning, then its grey clouds, constantly looking on the brink of rain for the rest of the day. But, it hasn’t been all that bad. We are itching to get a move on, of course, but Binimi World Resort (our neighbor here at the anchorage) has blessed with free wifi and access to THEIR SHOWERS! We haven’t been here in the Bahamas long, but you realize very quickly how fresh water is a very expensive and scarce commodity, so free (and HOT!) showers is as close to winning the lottery that you can get without actually buying a ticket.

We jumped in the beautiful, wickedly blue waters for a few hours one morning to do some snorkeling, but mostly we are using the time to do projects on the boat. Pete’s mostly working his way down a to-do list of repairs, while I’ve been focusing on getting our Pactor modem set up to send and receive email through our SSB radio. This will keep us connected wherever we happen to be. Other than the obvious social conveniences, this will allow us to receive important weather reports and maps on a daily basis from anywhere on the globe.

Getting this system all set up was no small feat. The technology has been around for a long time, but is still pretty darn cool if you think about it. Our Pactor modem will take our text emails, compress them into teeny, tiny bits of information, convert them to audio signals (something along the lines of Morse Code, but not really), then fire them to a shore station, where they will be converted back to text, and sent to all you wonderful folks. There’s both some special software on my end on my laptop and some special people working at the shore stations (thank you SailMail!) to make this all happen.

It took all of the “Idiot’s Guides to setting up your Pactor Modem… your SSB… your Airmail software… etc, etc” that I could get my hands on, but I figured the whole blessed system out! Several days of trolling through forums (because, of course, none of this software is written for a mac), I sent and received our first emails, weatherfax, and GRIB files by way of our Pactor radio. Oh, lordy, I have never been so excited to receive two-sentence email in my life!

Check out the shining moment for yourselves here:

With all the strong winds, we’ve also been very happy to get immediate gratification that shelling out the bucks for a new wind generator was a darn good idea. Most days, we have more energy than we know what to do with- and that’s on a completely cloud covered day. These days our poor solar panels are feeling like the uncoordinated, last-kid-picked-at-kickball to the new shining star at school- the wind genie, pumping out a consistent 10-15 amps and powering the entire boat on it’s own.

Here she is in all her glory:

We hope to push off within the next few days, although, to where we are still figuring out. We are looking forward to getting to the Exumas next, which are perfectly southeast of us. Guess where the wind is coming from for the foreseeable future… you guessed it… the southeast. And strong. We’d really like to do more sailing and less motoring, so we might need to get a little creative in our next float plan. Keep in touch for the juicy details.