This surprised us. Having been in the Bahamas this winter, when the water as not so deep, it was so blue, like you are looking at a swimming pool. But the deeper parts, like “Tongue of the Ocean” where the water is over 5,000 feet deep, the water is a dark navy blue color.
So, one of the first things Julie and I noticed a day out of Nova Scotia, was how blue the water was. Not navy blue, but a lighter shade. It took us more than a day to get off the continental shelf where the water goes from a few hundred feet deep to over 10,000 feet.
Mid-Atlantic Blue Ocean
By day three, we were in very deep water, over 14,000 feet deep, yet the water was so blue, not dark, like you could almost see the bottom. It called to us like the Sirens of the ancient world. Many times, I felt like jumping in, the only thing stopping me, the knowledge that on the open ocean, simple acts beget tragedies.
Finally, the sun came out and we had two nice days, winds less than 10 knots, 1 to 2’ waves, really nice motoring weather. So we stopped the boat to take a swim. Left the engine running, but not in gear obviously, and tied a 40’ line to the stern, just in case of who knows what. Now, we of course did not both go in the water at the same time, we didn’t even take off our clothes at the same time, in fact, Julie waited until the next day. But as I jumped in the ocean, I could not but feel great. The water was so blue under the boat, almost sky blue, and surprisingly, so salty. It tasted much saltier than before. Julie confirmed that also when she took her swim the following day.
We did see wildlife. Not as much as along the coast though. We only saw dolphins a few times, but one group was really large, more than 30. They swam with us for only a few minutes, whereas in the past, I’ve had dolphins spend 30 to 50 minutes with us. We also had a pair of birds hitch a ride. Happily, both flew off under their own power after a much needed rest the following day.
A Mid Atlantic Turtle
A few days from the Azores, we sighted what we initially thought was a float, but it turned out to be a turtle, just floating on the surface. Then an hour later, another turtle. We also had our only whale sighting, a couple of Humpbacks, maybe q quarter mile south.
Maybe the birds even helped themselves to the flying fish we would find on deck each morning. Sometimes we can see their impact 5’ or 6’ above the deck level on the salon wall or windows. They are also pretty small, just a few inches long. The flying fish we encountered in the Bahamas were much larger, but then so were the waves that night.
And just before Flores, we had a half dozen squid ranging in size from two to six inches long, on deck. I’m guessing the squid got there thru the deck scuppers as the boat rolls in the waves. The only problem was that sometimes I did not find them for a day, in which case we really did start to smell like a trawler.
We were in 5 feet of water with 150 feet of chain out and we continued to drag slowly, but surely, towards the shallows less than 100 feet away. Been there, Done that. But Not Tonight.
It’s almost 11:00 p.m. So, I get out of my nice cozy bed, put on my work clothes and proceed to make the boat ready to heavy seas. The nice following seas and waves we had getting here would now be on the bow. Steady 20 knot winds, a 45 mile fetch, had built the seas to 5 to 6 feet and with a short 6 second period, we were going to get wet. Nothing I had not encountered before, but now, I had daunting task of making Dauntless live up to her name. 45 miles to go, plus we had to tip toe back up the narrow channel.
I looked long and hard at the chart. The ocean was only ½ mile east of us. The chart showed an unmarked channel that should have just enough water for us to get through. It would save us one hour of the narrow channel.
But with strong winds opposing us, the seas would be breaking at the mouth of the inlet. I thought of Barnegat Bay and the channel that almost ended our dream before it even began. I had learned a lesson, 6 to 8 foot waves are uncomfortable, but only become boat threatening in shallow water. I would not tempt Fate again.
After making sure all the furniture was secured and everything put away, 45 minutes later, I was ready. Everyone else was still in bed; I start the engine and hauled the anchor. I told our guests that we were moving, but all was OK and just to stay in bed, as it was going to be rough.
As I headed the bow north northeast, I once again longingly looked at the chart with the ocean only 15 minutes away. But the lesson of Barnegat Bay held me to my plan and I proceeded to follow my path I had just used a few hours earlier.
An hour later, 00:45 I was turning due east into the narrow, but marked outlet channel, when Julie joined me in the pilot house, as a waning last quarter moon, filled the pilot house with a rosy glow.
We were ready for the angry sea.
We didn’t know what to expect with the oncoming waves. Dauntless does so well with a following sea that one hardly notices 6 foot waves from the stern, heading in to them, is a different story, made even more difficult because we had no leeway to maneuver in the narrow channel. And while we had just come thru this channel, the lesson of Barnegat Bay was always with me, as I still feel that is the only time the boat was at risk, in hindsight, we may have been literally within seconds of disaster.
With short period, oncoming waves, I reduced power to 1500 rpm. Our initial speed of over 6 knots quickly evaporated as we would climb one wave, our bow pointing high to the sky, then almost weightless; suddenly plunge into the trough of the wave, with the bow pulpit almost burying itself into the next oncoming wave. I watched with dismay as our speed went from 6.2 to 5.8, 5.4, 5.1 and finally 4.8 knots. With 49 nm to go, our trip was now going to be 10 hours, of up and down.
Luckily, I had the foresight to put a transdermal scopolamine patch on before departure. I would need it. As the boat settled into its yo-yo routine, I resigned myself to a long night.
Julie wanted to be in the pilot house, so she suggested I go get some sleep. I agreed, I was exhausted and even a few hours’ sleep could make a big difference. I briefed her on our course and conditions and went to our cabin.
The Krogen 42 master cabin in under the pilot house in the bow. As I got into bed, holding on for dear life, I remembered that I had sleep in worse conditions. When Julie and I went cruising with our Dutch friends, Jan and Carin on their wonderful Malo sailboat, in the Outer Hebrides, our first night at St. Kilda bay was every rolly. The anchorage was open to the southeast, the direction of the swell. Julie and I slept very well (after being on a sailboat all day on the open ocean, how can you not?). Thought-out that night, I remember thinking I was on a corkscrew roller coaster. But I slept and I remember thinking many times, now we turn upside down as we roll to the right. Think of a fighter plane making a diving turn to the right.
So, I did not expect a problem with this boat movement which was madly pitching up and down, there was little (for Dauntless) roll.
But as I tried to go to sleep, I noticed a very disconcerting sensation. With each pitch upward, as we crested the wave, Dauntless seemed to hesitate, before the downward plunge began. So lying in bed, I found my body waiting and waiting and waiting for that plunge. No sleep could be had here, so after 15 minutes of up and down, I returned to the pilot house.
Julie then decided to try to sleep on our sofa in the saloon. She went right to sleep, so after a while I decided to try it too. The weightless hesitation was not really noticeable near the back of the boat. With the autopilot set and no boats in sight, I curled up next to Julie like spoons and promptly went to sleep for about an hour.
Returning to the pilot house, all was as I left it. All systems were fine, and we were on course moving at about 4.8 knots. Seas and winds were still strong off our bow (due east) and occasionally, the pilot house would get a bath as the wind would take the top of a wave over the bow. Not green water, but a thorough dousing.
As it became light out, a sail boat passed to our north and we discovered two flying fish on deck. We could see the spot where the fish had hit the salon window, about 5 feet above the decks, 8 feet above the waterline. Though most of the night, I thought the waves were 4 to 6 feet (in Long Island Sound, I had the most miserable 15 miles ever as I headed into 8 to 10 foot short period waves, the boat only making 3.5 knots. Virtually every wave put spray on the foredeck and against the windows and then the really big waves put spray over the top of the pilot house, once seemingly not even touching the pilot house)
At 11:15 a.m. 26 December 2013, we were anchored in Shroud Cay, the Exumas, the Bahamas.
My guests were able to have a beautiful day (remember this was their first day at an anchorage in the Bahamas) and I felt it was a job well done.
This is more like itSunset after a loooong day
I made a mistake in our destination, but instead of exacerbating it, I bit the bullet and the problem was solved.
But before I tell the rest of the story of the summer Canada trip, in which there will be midnight dives, midnight docking, 12 knot currents, flying trawlers, flying people, swinging booms, crushing dinghies, crashing seas, the bureaucracies of the world at their best, BoatUS on the edge, Canadian customs, the ever vigilant USCG, pilot ships, thunderstorms, rain, ships passing in the night, lobster pots, lobsters, big tides and of course fog, fog and more fog.
I want to conclude the Bahamas Adventure with another lesson learned and disaster narrowly averted.
Christmas Eve, My crewmate, Chantal, and I returned to Bayshore Marina in Nassau. She would be leaving to visit her parents the next day and I would be picking up Julie and two of our friends, Karen and Jason, who were coming back for more adventure, having shared some of the shenanigans of Maine this past summer.
The trade winds had continued to blow steadily out of the East and ESE at 15 to 22 knots for the entire week. They were forecast to continue the next few days, so I decided to use the following seas they would produce and head to Andros Island. Overall course would be WSW, so the winds and seas would be just off our stern and provide a great ride, as Dauntless loves having her rear end goosed.
I had already noticed and thought about two issues, two yellow, if not red flags. The first being the lack of anchorages in the area we were heading for and the second being that no one ever mentioned cruising to Andros island. Everyone talked about the Abacos, the Exumas, Nassau, etc. here was this big island, just 45 miles west, whose only redeeming value was that they produced much of the fresh water for Nassau. Furthermore, looking at our planned anchorage, it would require an hour long threading of a narrow, unmarked channel. I would use my very accurate, so far, Explorer Charts, and my Navionics app on my Samsung Note, as well as the Navionics chart on my Raymarine Chart plotter (6 years old data). I felt confident that we could handle whatever came our way.
But I figured we would be getting off the beaten track. How bad could it be?
What was I thinking?
So Christmas Day starts out rosy and pink. Beautiful sunrise, we get underway, backing up out of the marina, everything ship shape. I had even written out and gone over some new household procedures with our guests, since a few things had changed since the summer. I was feeling very organized and experienced!
Hubris.
First hour, we have to head SE to get around New Providence island (the island Nassau is on), it’s a bit of a rough ride with 3 to 4 foot seas rolling the boat 10° to 20°. But after an hour we turned southwest and the ride totally smoothed out. A little after noon, we reached Tongue of the Ocean, where the water went from the Bahamas depth of 10 to 20 feet to over 4,000 ft. deep.
I took this opportunity to stop the boat, putting her in neutral. The month before, I had taken a similar opportunity to take a swim. Any thoughts of swimming quickly evaporated as dauntless broached (waves turning the boat perpendicular to the waves) within two minutes with a vicious roll almost 40 degrees. As I used the wheel to pull myself up, I quickly put her in gear and pushed the throttle up to get steerage back. No damage done, a little lesson learned.
Our charts indicated a very narrow marked (with pilings) channel extending ¼ mile due east of the Island, after which we would turn south and thread our way another 45 minutes south to an indicated anchorage at ———-
We did this, arriving at our planned anchorage about 4 p.m., about an hour before sunset. Andros Island has a reef protecting much of the east side. We had worked our way south, with the Island about ¼ mile to our west and the reef, indicated by a line of angry breakers, about ¼ mile to the east.
Seas had built to 4 to 6 feet out of the east. The period was relatively short, about 6 seconds, but we were protected now by the reef and just had some small chop, though with continued strong easterly winds to contend with at anchorage.
Christmas Sunset over Andros Island. What you can’t see the island, …
After getting the anchor set, letting out 100 ft. of chain in only 6 ft. deep water, I didn’t like what I was seeing. In the Exumas, we were normally anchored just west of the cay. The cay would protect us from the wind and waves and the beach would be very close, sometimes within 100 feet of white sand and blue, clear water. I wasn’t seeing that here. Instead, even though the reef protected us from the large waves, there was a surface chop that made the water turbulent. The Island also was far away, maybe a half a mile, though the shallow water was very close. Lastly, we were in a narrow channel, the wind was strong out of the east and to the west of us was shallow water and the island itself. In other words, if we dragged anchor, we would be on the beach before I could ever say, WTF?
We had dinner, watched another pretty sunset and at 7 p.m. two hours after our initial anchoring, as I am finishing my glass of wine, I look at the window and to my dismay, I see we’re dragging, slowly for sure, but dragging none the less.
I call everyone to Action Stations. Fire up the engine, decide where we need to be, haul anchor, move to the new spot, drop the anchor, set it, and wait. It’s not holding. We try again. No luck. And now, our situation is made even more uncomfortable, as we are sitting perpendicular to the wind, producing a yawing motion. While not terrible, I figure let’s try an experiment, let’s put out a stern anchor! With my motto being, there is a first time for everything, we talked it over and while we did not need a stern anchor, it wouldn’t hurt to try it now.
We did, and after an hour of moving, fiddling and other hijinks, we came to the conclusion that it was a waste of time. Luckily, through foresight, luck, the gods or all three, it turned out to be relatively easy to retrieve (I am sparing you the gory details, but suffice it to say, this was an hour long production).
So, it’s 9 p.m., dark, windy and I’m ready for bed. 45 minutes later, the anchor alarm (Drag Queen) goes off. I just up, even bother to put on pants, start the engine and for the third time move the boat. I’m back in bed at 10 p.m. Before even closing my eyes, as I think about the past few hours, I realize that Dauntless has moved roughly a foot a minute ever since we got here, so in one hour, we will again have moved 60 feet and what am I going to do then?
I screwed this pooch and there is only one answer.
Last day of January 2014 – Dollar Harbour to Florida
Dollar harbour anchorage turned out to one of the best of my whole Bahamas Adventure. Due to the strong current the boat was rock steady all night, though it did do a 180° in the middle of the night.
Wind is out of the SSE, 15-22 knots. On weather, I pretty much only look at the NWS products and even at that, I use them a guide, but… For example, the product I’ve been using here is:
AMZ001, with the subset AMZ117 BAHAMAS INCLUDING CAY SAL BANK, while relatively general, for today, E to SE winds 15 to 20 kts, seas 6 – 8 ft. Atlc exposures and 3-5 ft. elsewhere.
While relatively general, I like this product because it does not imply significance, in either specific time or location, that cannot be reasonably forecast,
The winds are actually SSE, so I probably won’t be able to maintain my desired course of 281° (with the GS pushing me north, the resultant COG would be 301°), which would land me at Miami.
15 minutes later I’m pounding into 4-6 ft. waves from the SSE. I want to get well clear of the wedge rocks before I try to go W or NW.
Turning thru 270° Dauntless is rolling 25° on each side of vertical. Not tenable. I settle on WNW, 300° heading. This gives me a following sea 30 to 40° off my stern, tolerable. I estimate (using my handy Clinometer app) that most of the rolls are on either side of 10 °, but 1/3 of the rolls are 15 to 18° and 1/9 of the rolls are 25-28°. I take a Cinnizine (Stugeron), thanks Dutch friends for bringing it.
Dauntless’ Tracks Outbound and Return
I also am reassured that should the conditions get worse for any reason, I do have a number of alternatives: I could head further north, as the Krogen does extremely well in a following sea or I could abort and head NNE to Bimini.
Four hours later, I am about in the middle of the Gulf Stream, I had increased speed to 2000 rpms, the most I have pushed my Lehman for any length of time, but with a speed over ground of about 9.2 knots, it does make the ride better. The seas have been 6 to 8 feet; I hand steered a while and did discover that my hand steering I could almost keep a course as low as 280, BUT it’s a lot of work, so I have adjusted the autopilot a few times and discovered that I can set it to react well to those largest waves. Once I understood that the ComNav Autopilot manual is really poorly written, in that they use poor analogies. Instead of explaining exactly what a certain adjustment actually does, they simplify too much. Many companies do this, but they don’t understand their customers. Meaning, those customers that will take the time to read their 3 inch think operating manual could use the exact description, instead they dumb it down, but dumb people won’t even read it in the first place.
So in trying to figure out what they really mean, for example Counter Rudder, seems to be an exponential function and in this case, by increasing it to almost max, Dauntless is able to react to large waves that want to pull the bow up (broach) faster than I can do it myself, and in fact, is more consistent. So, the last few hours are actually easier, then also, as I got to the west of the main GS, the waves have diminished a bit to 4 to 6 ft.
By 16:00 I am entering the Port Everglades ship channel. My crossing is done and our Bahamas adventure is over.
All’s Well that Ends Well.
As I get caught up with my postings, you will notice a mixture of tense. Please bear with me as some things are written just as they happen, some after the fact, some before the fact and some not at all.
My current plan is to also post some pictures directly with the blog, but also to make a link for all the pictures for a given trip. I’m also working on the duplication issue, so bear with me.
I’ve also uploaded some short videos of this crossing at http://dauntless.smugmug.com/Dauntless-Public/
Chubb Cay to Dollar Harbour, 30 January 2014, Thursday,
It’s Oh Dark Thirty, really, 3:00 a.m. If I want to get to Cat Cay today, it’s 76 nm @ 6.5 knots, that’s 12 hours, plus the usual hour of hijinks, so I either leave now or drive in the dark. Since for the first few hours this morning I can follow the route I took back in December, it’s better for me to leave now in the darkness, but on a known route. I also can’t wait to try my new driving lights, but as there is nothing in front of me, I don’t see anything.
Hauled anchor, at 3:45 a.m. and am now underway. I’m very close to the cold front. Forecasters had it between Florida and Bimini, but the winds switched around last night to the NW meaning it or part of it, passed thru, however, as I get underway, I notice the winds are again from the SE and I can sense buildups just to my west. Sure enough, in about an hour, I am going thru heavy rain for about half an hour. Once again I am passed the front, hopefully this time for good. (Sadly, was not the case and the third time, was at the most critical time.) As the sun came up at 6:30, the very light NW winds just caused barely a ripple on the ocean. Good cruising weather.
I picked up a hitchhiker for about half an hour.
A Tern Takes a Ride
Been anchored here in Dollar harbor (thanks to Active Captain) 30 minutes, since 17:15, a 14 hour day, just got out of the shower and now, finally It’s Miller Time, but I’m having stiff drink. As my mother would say, a highball.
So let’s go back to the videotape. The plan worked well. Would have worked even better had I remembered to look at my Explorer Chart Book of the Bahamas, which was three feet away on the chart table in front of my face all f…day. (the downside of getting up at 3 a.m.?)
So all was going well. By leaving so early, the seas were flat for the first 9 hours, it wasn’t till early afternoon that the southerly waves picked up in the shallow water west of the tongue of the ocean. Small waves about a foot, but once in a while they would hit the boat strangely and cause a disconcerting thump. I’m making good time too, 1600 rpms, but averaging 7 knots.
At this point, it’s midafternoon and I’m only about 10 nm Southeast of the Cat Cay lighthouse, and I am following the exact route I took coming out, but am wondering why I took that route as it seems a little off from what my Navionics charts are saying. Especially when I got to the real shallow area that I had come straight thru last month. Shallow, so cruising slowly for an hour, like 5 kts, with only 1 to 3 feet under the keel. Luckily, as the water got skinny, I made sure I was exactly on that track, though I did test it, by going north and south of the track to see if it improved. It didn’t. OK, so I get thru that part and now I’m 3 nm SE of the lighthouse, but it my Navionics says I can try to get to Dollar harbor by coming from the NE on the east side of South Cat Cay.
Interesting. Not one to pass up an opportunity (to save an hour)I slow down even more and give it a try, within minutes the rudder becomes sluggish, I immediately make a sharp U turn and add power as the depth sounder stopped sounding, which means it’s in the mud, sand. Within a heart stopping 30 seconds, I have at least some water underneath. OK, all is good, I retrace my steps, get back on course a and once again head NW to the lighthouse and the gap between South and North Cat Cay.
Now, in part because of the wasted time, this storm that has been building is now here, so I go thru the narrow cut south (must hug shore to within 100 ft) of the lighthouse in raging seas and wind. 100 m visibility in heavy rain and wind. When I get to the west side, it is far worse, as there seem to be two different wave trains and their both 6 to 8 ft. I realize at this point, that I need sea room no matter what the seas, so I continue west into the deeper water, >40ft, before I turn South,
Now, I’m wondering what to do, The rain is so heavy, I can’t see the inlets or the rocks just to my left, I don’t trust my chart plotter or my navionics App and the wind is from the North, so continuing on and crossing the Gulf Stream is out of the question.
A light dawns, Like the sun burning though the morning fog, I remember my trusty Explorer Chart Book. Open it to the pertinent page and low and behold it has all the answers. It showed why I had previously taken the route I had, plus it showed that the only way to the Dollar anchorage was from the southwest.
I decided to play it safe for once and come all the way south of Wedge Rocks as the channel there looked a bit deeper and wider, on the chart, so I just gritted my teeth and accepted that I would have a rough ride for the next 30 minutes. The visibility was still bad enough I could not the rocks or breakers, so I wondered about turning into the inlet when the time came, but as it was it was all anti-climactic. As soon as I was south of the rocks, I turned, and the seas died down to just 2-3’. Looking at the chart it confirmed the AC advice and it was a piece of cake. I had 14 ft. of water all the way to this anchorage. There was some wind, but absolutely no boat movement (and for a full displacement boat, that says a lot). There is a strong current which is keeping Dauntless parallel to the channel, but this is the quietest anchorage I have had in the entire time in the Bahamas.
Here are two videos, but it’s hard to get WordPress to play nice with pictures. So go to http://dauntless.smugmug.com/Dauntless-Public for the rest of the pictures in descending chronological order.
Finally, It’s Miller Time and here is one of my favorite Miller time T-shirts at http://dauntless.smugmug.com/Dauntless-Public
I had spent the last few days getting the boat ready to depart for the roughly 200 mile trip back to Miami. But in reality, there was little to get ready, so I spent the last days riding the little Nassau buses around and just observing life.
In these last days, I ended up totally changing my views on the people and the Bahamas. It’s hard to explain why I started with such feelings of trepidation, it’s not like I am unaccustomed to foreign places and cultures, but in any case, I left with the genuine fondness for the life and the people.
This size bus
I found the people warm, generous and very honest. There is a respect that pervades Bahamian society and it manifests itself in many ways. The buses are small (for a NYer) 25 seat buses that zip around on assigned routes, but not assigned stops. Therefore you can flag your bus down anywhere along their route and get off the same way. One pays as they get off. Everyone sits down and when the bus is full, a little third seat folds down into the aisle. More than half the riders give a salutation as they get on, usually “good afternoon” to the bus in general. The seats are relatively small, as I was struck on one tall, lanky man got on with a big backpack and instead of plunking it down on a vacant seat next to him, he proceeded to squeeze himself into the seat with backpack on, and then proceed to do this Houdini thing, where he switches it around from his back to his lap. Unlike NY, people don’t sprawl all over like it’s their living room. It was that incident which made me observe better and the realization came as to how respectful everyone is, young and old, to others.
No one plays music or really disturbs their fellow passengers in any way. Now as to the music, about half the buses do have some type of music blaring. I never did figure out how the driver could here as a passenger would call out, “bus stop”. But they always did. Also the music, some combination of reggae and rap, on Sunday, became gospel music, on all the buses! A few buses had church radio stations on during the week also. I was struck my how efficient they system was, reminded me of Seoul, Korea, in that it consisted of a lot of busses, traveling as quickly as they can, as often as they can. The exact opposite of what the NYC transit system has become, in which the buses in particular, are run on a schedule that guarantees that while they may be on time, it’s only because they are so slow and too large. They take forever to load and then crawl along slower than a walking pace. A system clearly designed by someone who never takes the bus.
School Kids
All school kids wear uniforms and while each school had a distinctive look, there was no variety within a school. Many high school level schools had a uniform that was opposite for boys and girls, meaning, girls would have a red skirt and while shirt, while the boys in the same school would have white pants and a red shirt.
Coming back to the marina for the last time, as I said goodbye to those who had watched over Dauntless in my absence, I was saddened to say goodbye. They were generous with their time and efforts. They adjusted my lines as need be and made sure the boat always had electricity. Couldn’t ask for a better stay or experience.
So it’s time to move on.
I am alone now. I departed Florida two months ago with a crew mate, Chantal, who turned out to be really great. A good learner and she tolerated my idiosyncracies, what else can one ask for.
Before Sunrise
I had trouble sleeping I was so excited about leaving. There is something that is so magical for me in the early morning hours being underway.
We even thought about naming the boat Dawn Patrol, but thought it was a bit corny, though it did appeal to my patriotic (for lack of a better word) side, to show an appreciation and thanks to those who have the usually thankless job of watching over the rest of us (military, fire & police, etc.) while we are fat, dumb and happy all cozy in bed.
This was going to be the third time I left this marina, so I felt I should nail it (back in the day of BMW’s vs Alfa’s, third time around the track was usually my fastest time, as I kept on trying different ways to better my time).
So I went to bed thinking of the lines I would use as I was single handed. I was starting the engine just at high tide, so I knew I had almost an hour before the current really started going, as I had to back into it. I knew I needed to get away before it really started running its 2-3 knots. So, all is going as planned (I also wanted to run the engine 20 minutes, even though I had run it yesterday, 15 minutes is the time it takes to manifest any fuel issues).
As soon as I took off the stern port side line, the boat snugged up to the pier, easier for me to get on and off, and I have rub rails and am not afraid to use them. The boat did move forward a bit, so I retied the Stbd stern line tight to the piling, so the boat would not move forward. The spring lines came off and two port lines, I then retied the one bow starboard line with a loop over the piling, with its eye over my forward cleat, and me taking the bitter end to near the pilot house door. This would be the last line I would release and as the boat moved backwards, the line would slip around and off the forward piling, while still connected to the bow cleat.
Worked like a charm, for the most part; I ran to the stern, undid the line and pulled it quickly into the boat (no lines outside). Quickly stepping back to the pilot house, putting it in reverse as I heard the bow lightly kiss the slip goodbye, cute I thought, as I released the bitter end of the line that was looped around the piling. As Dauntless boat backed out, we wwere free, perfectly I thought.
Had to make a quick left, parallel to the slip I had been in, to stay in channel, then a sharp right in about 200’ between some ferry and the marker. All is going well, I’m in the Nassau channel passing under those two bridges to Atlantis. Did you catch what I left out?
Sunrise leaving Nassau
Yes, my bow line was happily streaming under the boat, but in what I’d like to call “unconscious foresight”, though many of you will probably say is simply dumb luck, I had used a short bow line, only 25’. I immediately ran out and pulled the line it, thinking what disaster it could have been had I used one of my normal 50’ lines. I’ll give myself some credit, as I did use the shorter line, conscious of the time it takes to pull it in.
Sitting here now in Chubb Cay, with good holding in 6’ of water, with 80 ‘of chain out.
The winds are constant SE at 15 knots, but there is a southerly swell, so I am rocking and rolling a bit, but if this boat didn’t roll, I would think we were aground.
Tomorrow it’s Cat Cay and then crossing the Stream.
More pictures can be found at http://dauntless.smugmug.com/Dauntless-Public/i-M94RJzH
We departed Key Largo 10 December and returned to Miami, 31 January 2014.
Overview of the Dauntless’ Bahamas Adventure
In those 53 days, I had to leave dauntless and return to NYC for 23 days (I didn’t want to miss the snowstorm).
Total days on boat (not including 23 days I was in NYC) 30 days, of these 30 days, two thirds of our days were spent moving from one place to another. Most were small moves, but we had a third of the time that we had a full day, 6 to 8 hours, or more, of travel. The only time I spent more than two nights in the same place was the 5 days in Nassau, when I came back from NY, as I got the boat ready to return to Florida.
We traveled 700 nm in 135 engine hours, averaging 5.2 nm/hr., consuming 215 gal of diesel. Now, this =1.6 gal/hr., but the fuel consumed includes 47 hours of Generator time. We did have a little Inverter problem, which meant that we had to run the generator probably 50% more time than normal to charge the batteries.
But even with that, if I subtract about 40 gal from our use, the main engine only used about 1.3 gal/hour! Which equals 4 nm/gal and at $4.00/gal cost of fuel, a rough estimate is $1/nm.
KK42-148 has been exactly what we needed and hoped for.
Thank you Dauntless. Now, I do happen to have a few shenanigans to relate.
In fact once I left Nassau, the order of the day seemed to be a shenanigan a day keeps Bost on his toes
I’m sitting in the salon, back on Dauntless, having just returned from my three week trip home to NYC.
The boat looks like I never left; it was such a relief to walk down the slip and see nothing strange, she wasn’t listing, the electricity was on and I had no infestation of the insect people, etc.
This marina, Bayshore Marina, has been fantastic. No problems at all. Safe and secure, with nice people. I found it on Active Captain, and I will be putting a post there also.
It was the longest I have been away from her since we bought her last March. I got a lot of stuff done in NY that needed me there, saw some good friends and ate some wonderful Korean food again, but as the days absent go on, the anxiety builds. You all know what I mean.
So now, I’ll spend the next few days doing some small things and wandering around Nassau, but I will be heading back to Miami, sooner, rather than later, as I have found a fabricator and rigger who will do the paravanes (flopper stoppers) for me.
Dauntless at Sea 