Bahamas 2019

This page last updated on 06/07/2022.

Introduction

I sailed my boat to the Bahamas last summer. I worked like a dog for months to get the boat ready for the trip. I told myself I would abort the trip, if I couldn't leave by early June. I was scared of getting into hurricane season. Well, I was finally ready to go about the second week of June. I had misgivings about the late departure but ultimately decided to go anyway. The trip was really tough. I intend to write up a story about it for my website, but haven't put much on paper yet.

Trip Log

I departed Key Largo, Florida at midnight on a Tuesday. Had to beat into a 25 knot headwind and 4 foot waves to finally make it to Bimini in the Bahamas at 4 PM the next day. I checked into immigration and customs then headed down to Cat Cay and anchored overnight.

Next morning, I set out for Chub Cay, about 90 miles east over the Bahamainan banks (a shallow plateau where the water is only about 20 feet deep). I sailed for 6 hours against a high east wind and only made good about 13 miles. At this rate, it would take me days to get to Chub Cay. So, I dropped the sails and used the engine to make headway. The seas were brutal. At 3 AM, it looked like I had another 5-6 hours to go before making Chub Cay. I was completely exhausted. Consulting the charts, I found a small anchorage in the middle of the banks. The anchorage was a 20 foot deep trench about a half mile wide, surrounded on three sides by reefs covered in 1-2 feet of water. It was a dangerous approach at night and I only had the GPS to guide me. I was very tired though, so I set course for the anchorage. Two hours later, after feeling my way very slowly into the anchorage with the GPS and depth sounder, I tossed out my anchor and went below.

Five hours later, I awoke and went out on deck. Nothing but water as far as I could see. The shallow reefs did a good job of blocking the high seas though. The water had a funny super-deep blue tint; an unusually deep blue color. As I pulled up the anchor, a thick layer of black dust and flakes sloughed off. Lashing the anchor to the deck, I noticed the zinc plating was half-way gone. I then realized that the black powder that had sloughed off the anchor when I raised it WAS the missing zinc plating. The plating had not been oxidized, it had been reduced or sulfated somehow. About the only way for that to happen is if the water is more acidic than battery acid or if it is saturated with some kind of sulfated salts. That might explain the weird blue color of the water too. It's one of the strangest things to have happen to me while sailing. Some of the blue holes they have out in the Bahamas are apparently caused by the emission of sulphur dioxide from deep in the Earth. Maybe that was the origin of the trench in which I was anchored.

I again motored toward Chub Cay and finally made it there at about 3 PM in the afternoon. Picked up about 20 gallons of diesel ($5 per gallon!). I shoved off with the intention of making it to White Cay by nightfall. However, progress was slow against the wind and waves. Finally at about 7 PM, I decided to duck behind Whale Cay for the night. Found a protected, shallow bay in which to anchor.

I was so tired that I slept until 10 AM the next day. I was exhausted and didn't feel like doing anything. My only company was a motor yacht anchored about a mile away. No other people around. The population of Whale Cay is three. Three people plus the yacht crew and me in a 20 mile radius. At dawn on the second day at anchor, the motor yacht was gone, having left sometime in the night.

I did some snorkeling and paddled the kayak around. Landed on Whale Cay and did a little exploring. Hiked up to the top of a dune and sat down, feeling the wind. Watched waves march along from where the Atlantic merges with the horizon, to crash on the shore. I felt like the only person on the planet. Adrift in the primal elements of the world. I wondered what the early sailors felt when they came ashore on uncharted islands. Headed back to the boat for a quiet evening.

I was awaken at 3 AM. The wind was up and had shifted from southeast to northeast. Any change of wind like that is cause for concern, especially in hurricane season. I turned on the radios and got weather. Uh oh, a tropical depression had formed just east of me out in the Atlantic. Conditions were expected to get much worse. It was possible the depression might develop into a hurricane. Well, I couldn't go anywhere. Waves were already 8-10 feet outside the shelter of Whale Cay. No matter what happened, I'd have to ride it out right here.

The tropical depression came barreling west, right over the top of Whale Cay. The wind rose to about 35 knots. It seemed nervous and excited; feeling all over the boat with tense and shaking hands. Wave after wave of rain and thunderstorms came pounding through. This went on all day and into the night. When I awoke the next day, the sun was out and what remained of the wind was blowing torn, fluffy hunks of cloud along. By late afternoon it was back to the normal, benign southeasterly breeze.

The next morning, about 10 AM, I pulled up the anchor and headed back to Bimini; a 90 mile downwind sail. Should arrive in Bimini around 8 AM the next day. Most of the trip to Bimini was fine, but I ran into a complex of thunderstorms about 2 AM out over the banks. High winds and very rough seas, but I've been in worse. It was scary though, no doubt about it.

Made it to Bimini and prepared for the jump across the Florida Straits to Fort Lauderdale. A cold front swept over Binimi that evening, so departure was delayed. Tropical waters and cold fronts fight like cats-n-dogs; large thunderstorms, winds, and seas. I was sure glad to be on shore when they came through. In needed to arrive in Fort Lauderdale during daylight, that meant leaving Bimini about 9 PM; an overnight sail.

There was no wind at all when crossing the Straits and the sea was like glass. It was almost eerie. Motoring along on a black sheet; no land or other ships in sight. One time I stopped, shut down the engine, and just drifted for a few minutes. That was really creepy. I imagined the long neck of a sea serpent rising out of the water next to the boat. I eagerly re-started the engine and motored on, for once glad to have my noisy buddy along for the ride.

About 20 miles off the Florida coast, I ran into heavy freighter traffic. It turned out to be way more hazardous than I expected. The ships were everywhere and seemed to be moving really fast. I looked over the stern and saw a container ship about 5 miles off headed my way. I turned around to look at a couple of other ships ahead of me that I had my eye on. A minute or two later I turned around to look at that ship overtaking my from astern. Yikes! It was almost on top of me, seemingly only a half mile away. How did it sneak up on me like that? I had to take evasive action a few times. Nerve racking.

Finally made it back to Key Largo at 10 PM that night. Pulled the boat out and put it back on the trailer two days later. What a trip. Lots of work, tension, and exhaustion punctuated by two or three magical moments. I'm going to try it again though!