This
article appeared in MESSING
ABOUT IN BOATS in the July
15, 1995 issue.
CHEATING WINTER
Our
Little Boats are small to sail across the Stream
We bob
over waves
like corks in the sea and dream of lands unseen
A deserted
beach
on some tropical isle or maybe a mangrove creek
We never
will know
for the future's untold each day is different you see
Though
tiny
and frail to an outsider's eye we're strong enough for the sea
And
that's all you really need to make your landfall safely!
Chipping
the ice off the makeshift plastic shelter, we freed LITTLE CRUISER
and her groaning trailer from the clutches of winter. It was January,
and already there had been several major winter storms in the east.
Like snow birds, it was time for Mindy and I to head South.
Our
fifteen foot sailboat was crammed full, almost to the point of
bursting, with what we hoped would be enough supplies for three
month's worth of cruising in the Bahamas. The million and one small
details with the house and the boat had finally been completed, and
we were both exhausted by our efforts. In anticipation of the fine
weather to come, we wore shorts despite the biting cold outside. It
was fourteen long hours before we could leave the comfort of our
car.
Last winter we had sailed LITTLE CRUISER for a month on
the west coast of Florida followed by another month's worth of
cruising in the Bahamas. This year we were looking forward to sailing
with the designer and builder of our boat, Matt Layden. Already he
was waiting for us in Key Largo, Florida. While Matt had taken
roughly six weeks to sail from Connecticut to Key Largo via the
Intracoastal Waterway, we were able to trailer our boat in a single
day. Sixty five knots to windward; now that's fast!
We
launched LITTLE CRUISER at a local boat ramp in Key Largo, and then
we spent the rest of the day rigging the boat and admiring Matt's
fifth home-built sailboat, PARADOX. Measuring only thirteen feet, ten
inches long and four feet wide, this sharpie was different from ours
in that she had no centerboard. Designed for solo sailing, PARADOX'S
ease in handling was immediately apparent.
There were only
three running lines on the whole boat: One to raise sail, one to reef
and one to sheet. What could be easier? Mindy and I were a bit
envious since LITTLE CRUISER had twice the number of lines. Like our
boat, PARADOX was designed for shallow water cruising as well as for
short offshore passages.
The next evening, favorable south
winds were predicted, and both boats left Florida, bound across the
notorious Gulf Stream for Bimini. Out in the ocean, the seas were
sloppy and running five to seven feet. Matt led the way. We followed.
From a hundred yards behind, Mindy and I watched PARADOX, brightly
lit under her masthead light, bob up and down like flotsam in the
confused seas. PARADOX looked more like a child's toy than a real
boat, and it made us realize how small we really were.
At
daybreak, we found ourselves becalmed twenty-five miles out and only
half-way across the Gulf Stream. Our progress had been hindered by
easterly head winds instead of the predicted beam winds. Exhausted
and a bit seasick, Mindy and I decided to motor the rest of the way;
but Matt, always the sailing purist, refused our tow. He preferred to
sail or to scull. With mixed feelings, we left him behind, making
Bimini that afternoon after twenty hours. Matt turned up a day
later.
Relieved by his safe arrival, we sat on the dock and
took in our tropical surroundings. Coconut trees rocked gently in the
cool morning breeze. Pelicans and seagulls sat on pilings preening
themselves, while below, tropical fish swam lazily around our boats
in the crystal clear water. On the roadside, Bahamian women prepared
their stands with souvenirs, while the others braided the tourists'
hair to the beat of island music. We relaxed. We soaked in the warmth
of the sun. We knew we had cheated winter once more.
By the
time Matt had returned from customs, we were entertaining a small
number of local and visiting sailors. They were quite interested in
our little boats, and Mindy was giving them guided tours, though only
one person at a time. A few people thought we were trying to prove
something or set some sort of record, but in reality we were
traveling light to fit our budget and our needs. We wanted to sail
now while our health was good and our interest in sailing was keen.
Most understood our reasons.
Later, Matt guided us up a narrow
mangrove creek on the north side of the island to reach a small
secluded lake. Protected from the wind by a stand of Casuarina trees
and isolated form the town's noisy generators, this anchorage was an
ideal site to rest and to await good weather for our trip across the
Bahama Bank.
With the arrival of fair winds a few days later,
we left for the Berry Islands some seventy-five miles away. That
night a full moon lit our way across the shallow banks as we left a
luminescent trail of bubbles in our wake. Everything was deathly
quiet as the boats ghosted along in the light airs until a lone
dolphin broke the silence, surfacing next to LITTLE CRUISER and
blowing loudly. Then, as suddenly as it had appeared, the dolphin was
gone.
The night passed slowly. Mindy and I entertained
ourselves with the shortwave radio, and every hour was marked with a
call to our friend to compare notes on our progress. By dawn we had
reached the shoal waters off the Berry Islands, and in a few more
hours we found ourselves a snug anchorage up a mangrove creek on Chub
Cay.
The next day the weather was nice, and we left, riding a
twenty knot breeze in six foot seas across the New Providence Channel
to Nassau. We had an unusually swift passage, and we kept pace with
two larger sailboats. After finding a suitable anchorage amongst the
local fishing boats in Potter's Cay, we settled in for the night.
In the morning all three of us went ashore in PARADOX, which
now served as our dinghy. On reaching the town landing, a "dock
master" insisted that we pay him a dollar to watch our boat, and
we did. Then we went off in search of fresh fruits and vegetables at
the local market. When we returned, we were surprised to find yet
another person watching PARADOX, and he too wanted to be paid. To
avoid be cheated, we jumped aboard PARADOX.
As Matt began
sculling us away, this would-be con man put his foot down on our boat
to stop us. Matt continued to scull, and soon the fellow found
himself in the awkward position of having one foot on land and the
other on the boat with an ever widening gap in between the two. Just
before he fell into the water, we pulled him aboard. Then to our
amazement, he resumed his demands for money as he precariously
balanced himself on the fore deck.
In an attempt to regain
control, we began rocking PARADOX from side to side, which forced our
unwanted guest to sit down and behave himself. It wasn't long before
we had him back on shore. we later called our antics the "Bahamian
Deck Roll," in the hopes that should we ever be boarded in the
future, the intruder could be dislodged easily by simply rocking the
boat.
Having had enough of Nassau, we headed off for Rose
Island, dodging double decked catamarans packed elbow-to-elbow with
tourists. At Rose Island, we anchored in a foot of water, and then
waited for the tide to fall so that we would be happily aground on
our flat bottomed boats. We rested peacefully that night as the other
boats in Bottom Harbor rocked steadily in the northerly blow,
telltale signs of the bad weather back home.
Our next
destination was the Exumas, a chain of beautiful islands stretching
southward some ninety miles. We first visited Allan's Cay to see the
endangered Bahamian Iguanas, and a day later we had fun sailing
around a half submerged DC-3 airplane near Norman's Cay. The snow
white beaches on Shroud Cay enticed us to linger a few days longer in
the northern Exumas before heading farther south to Hawksbill Cay to
explore the ruins of a Loyalist Plantation.
Over the next few
weeks, Mindy and I came to appreciate the unique geography of the
Exumas. Because the islands were only a few miles apart, easy
anchorages were always at hand, and our nine inch draft allowed us to
negotiate the shallow waters between the islands and to bump over the
ever present sand bars. When the weather became foul, we stayed in
the lee of the island, under conditions Matt called "bathtub
sailing."
Continuing southward we next stopped at
Warderick Wells, the headquarters of the Exuma Land and Sea Park and
a favorite gathering place for cruisers. At the park office, which
also includes a nature science center, we passed our time learning
about the local fauna and the island's history as well as feeding
some small yellow birds called Bananaquits. We had fun luring them
onto the palms of our hands with sugar, and it wasn't long before a
small flock of these hungry birds were dancing on our finger tips. At
the traditional Sunday potluck dinner, Mindy and Matt impressed
everyone by baking two delicious breads on PARADOX'S tiny kerosene
stove. Many new friends were made that night.
After nearly a
week at this wonderful place, we left to explore more of the islands
farther south. When we reached Staniel Cay, Matt called home and
found out that his girlfriend had decided to join us for two weeks in
Georgetown, Great Exuma. The cold weather back home had finally
convinced Karen to come.
Picking up the pace to meet her on
time, we sailed past dozens of deserted white beaches and perfect
anchorages over the next sixty miles. When we reached Georgetown, the
final destination for hundreds of cruising boats wintering in the
Bahamas, we had two days to spare. Karen was fortunate to leave New
York on schedule as a snow storm threatened to cancel her flight.
After her safe arrival, we spent a few days sailing together around
Great Exuma before Mindy and I decided to venture farther offshore to
see some of the less visited Out Islands.
Mindy and I chose
to visit Long Island first. On the way we noticed how strange it was
to be on our own after a month and a half with Matt. It had been
reassuring to raft up the two little boats at night, and we had
especially enjoyed sharing our evening meals together. When we
reached Calabash Bay, Long Island, there were only two other
sailboats in the anchorage. We made friends quickly with these
cruisers, but it wasn't long before they departed on their own
adventures and we left for Rum Cay.
From ten miles away we
spotted the prominent hills on this island. Then, as we got closer
our attention became focused on the half dozen large shipping
containers high on the beaches. This sight reminded us that we were
no longer in the placid waters of the Exumas, but in the rough
Atlantic Ocean where cargoes are washed off the decks of ships and
thrown onto the beaches like driftwood.
Our fears were quickly
forgotten, thought, as the sounds of music and laughter were heard in
the distance. As we approached Port Nelson we could see that a party
was in full swing. We landed on a nearby beach to investigate, and we
were immediately swarmed by a happy crowd of native party-goers. We
felt very honored when we were invited to join the wedding reception
we had just interrupted.
During our stay, we made friends with
many of the islanders. We were given fresh seafood and invited home
for lunch. To us this was the Bahamas of yesteryear, the unspoiled
paradise that we had dreamed about. Fish, lobster and conch were
plentiful. Everyone was friendly. We explored the old plantations,
and we went for long walks on the beaches. However, all too soon, it
was time for us to leave as we wanted to be back to see Karen before
she returned home.
On the way to Georgetown we stopped at
Conception Island for a brief visit. We found the island uninhabited
except for a fierce population of mosquitoes, no-see-ums, and
horseflies, who seemed especially attracted to our red sail. We had
planned to anchor in a creek that pierced it's rugged interior, but
the entrance was obstructed by a rocky bar. After several risky
attempts in the surf, we chose a safer anchorage on the west side of
the island. In the morning we returned to Calabash Bay, and then we
rejoined Matt and Karen in Georgetown the following morning.
After
Karen went home, both boats headed north to visit many of the islands
in the Exumas that we had missed earlier. One place in particular,
Thunderball Cave, amazed us. It was here that we were told by locals
some scenes from a James Bond movie were filmed. By swimming through
a hole in the side of a small island, Matt led us into a dark cavern
lit only by a few rays of sunlight peaking through a hole in the
roof. The cave was both magical and eerie. We explored the other
adjoining chambers and watched the colorful fish dart in and out of
the many passages. This was probably one of the most incredible
diving experiences of the whole trip.
We stopped once more at
Shroud Cay, and then we went on to Saddle Cay to visit one of Matt's
friends who had a thirty-two foot sharpie which was similar in design
to our own boats. Chris and his family had lived aboard HOGFISH for
several years, making the Bahamas their winter home. After several
enjoyable days with them, we went on to Ship Channel Cay where we
left the beautiful islands of the Exumas behind to visit Spanish
Wells, Eleuthera.
There we met still another of Matt's friends
from an earlier voyage. He treated us to a home cooked meal, a
welcomed treat after months of our own cooking. It seemed that
wherever we went our little boats brought out the best in people. The
following day a lady gave Mindy some fresh home-grown tomatoes, while
another presented us with hand painted calendars.
It was now
the middle of March, and two and a half months had passed. We knew
that if Mindy and I were to be home by April, we would have to start
heading back to Florida soon. Matt chose to stay longer so he could
visit friends in the Abacos. After a brief visit to nearby Royal
Island, we parted company. Mindy and I retraced our path to Bimini
before safely crossing the Gulf Stream.
In Key Largo we loaded
LITTLE CRUISER on the trailer, and headed north following the spring
blossoms all the way to North Carolina. By the first week of April,
we were home after eight hundred sea miles and eighteen hundred land
miles. We were happy to see our friends and family, and they told us
of the cold miserable winter we had missed, the worst that they could
ever remember. Our dark tans and broad smiles must have conveyed more
than anything else the great times we had experienced. It didn't
surprise us, therefore, that everyone asked us if we would be
returning next year. Who knows? Maybe we'll cheat winter again...