[Hilde’s log]
Another first for Raven: we successfully navigated Whale Cay Passage, a channel from the Bahama banks to the Atlantic, then travelling about a mile off the islands in the Atlantic, and coming back to the banks through Loggerhead Channel to anchor at Great Guana Cay. These cuts must be travelled carefully, when the swells coming in from the Atlantic are low and the wind and current are in accord. We hadn’t planned to take that route today, but the cruisers’ net on VHF 68 reported very good conditions, so we rushed around and secured everything, heaved the dinghy up on deck, and headed out.
The conditions were good, as reported, and we could see why you’d be idiotic to try the passage in anything less than good conditions. The sea and wind were both on our nose, which makes for slow going. The swells, though “only” of the two to four foot variety made the transit a bit lumpy as they tended to stack up and come in at a fairly rapid pace. The passage saw a small rush of traffic as boats passed us headed north to Green Turtle and sailed with us toward Great Guana Cay and farther south. The cruisers’ net has proved invaluable, as they broadcast “eyewitness” weather reports from the local islands. Needless to say, a weather/sea report from a boat on site is a whole lot more accurate than NOAA could ever be.
The sea was its usual (for here) astonishing self, jewel-deep aquamarine streaked with navy blue, almost black, and stunning neon green, all of it blindingly brilliant under the sun. We anchored in Fisher’s Bay about 1 p.m. and congratulated ourselves on a good day’s work. It was exactly the amount of sailing I like to do – four hours. I fixed a big, late lunch, after which David took a well deserved nap and I buried myself in The French Lieutenant’s Woman. He woke up about an hour later, groggy until he looked outside and noticed we’d dragged about 200 yards. That got everyone moving! Fortunately, we were at the edge of the bay with no one behind us. We went out into the cockpit, upped anchor and reset, dragged again and reset. The reset was complicated by the fact that the anchor chain clumped up and jammed belowdeck after about 60 feet, so David had to run up and down from the bow to shake it loose.
While we were resetting, the wind blustered from 20 to 23 knots. Trying to point into a strong wind is a challenge, because it catches Raven’s bow and blows her around like a top when we aren’t moving forward (you have to stop to lower the anchor). NOAA had forecast 10-15 knots for today. I shouldn’t have been surprised at the discrepancy. We have a friend who says that to get the NOAA wind forecast to be accurate, you have to add 10 knots to the wind speed and assume it will blow opposite to the direction forecast. That’s probably a little exaggerated, but it’s how we end up feeling!
Once we set, David hauled the remaining 150 feet of chain up on deck to inspect and untwist it. This is a dirty operation, as the chain has rusty dust all over it, which instantly muddies the deck (my beautiful used-to-be clean deck) and gets on your hands, your feet, your clothes, whatever lines may be around, and of course the dinghy, which was still fastened to the foredeck. The wind frisked happily all blinking afternoon and we were afraid the anchor would pop up again (although with 120 feet of chain out the second time, that seemed unlikely), so I sat in the cockpit and stared forlornly at the beach and the tiki bar and all the trappings of civilization I thought I’d get to sample today, but can’t because of the wind.
I was picturing a mild breeze and a lazy afternoon on the beach. I realize this is just another case of being blindsided by expectations, but I am getting a bit testy on the subject. We’ve been in the Bahamas two weeks today, and I’ve been ashore exactly three times, and have yet to sit on a beach under an umbrella. For some reason I have it in my head that if I do this, the trip will have been a success. Well, there’s always tomorrow. For today, I am licking my wounds (a splinter in my finger, a bruised ankle, and a kitchen cut) and waiting, although I am not waiting very patiently.
Our destination tomorrow is Marsh Harbour, where we hope to meet up with Viking Rose, friends we have not seen since Vero Beach. They are due in tomorrow as well. We can still explore here a bit, as the distance from here to there is not far and, hey, the wind will be blowing only 10-15 knots. NOAA says so.
Another first for Raven: we successfully navigated Whale Cay Passage, a channel from the Bahama banks to the Atlantic, then travelling about a mile off the islands in the Atlantic, and coming back to the banks through Loggerhead Channel to anchor at Great Guana Cay. These cuts must be travelled carefully, when the swells coming in from the Atlantic are low and the wind and current are in accord. We hadn’t planned to take that route today, but the cruisers’ net on VHF 68 reported very good conditions, so we rushed around and secured everything, heaved the dinghy up on deck, and headed out.
The conditions were good, as reported, and we could see why you’d be idiotic to try the passage in anything less than good conditions. The sea and wind were both on our nose, which makes for slow going. The swells, though “only” of the two to four foot variety made the transit a bit lumpy as they tended to stack up and come in at a fairly rapid pace. The passage saw a small rush of traffic as boats passed us headed north to Green Turtle and sailed with us toward Great Guana Cay and farther south. The cruisers’ net has proved invaluable, as they broadcast “eyewitness” weather reports from the local islands. Needless to say, a weather/sea report from a boat on site is a whole lot more accurate than NOAA could ever be.
The sea was its usual (for here) astonishing self, jewel-deep aquamarine streaked with navy blue, almost black, and stunning neon green, all of it blindingly brilliant under the sun. We anchored in Fisher’s Bay about 1 p.m. and congratulated ourselves on a good day’s work. It was exactly the amount of sailing I like to do – four hours. I fixed a big, late lunch, after which David took a well deserved nap and I buried myself in The French Lieutenant’s Woman. He woke up about an hour later, groggy until he looked outside and noticed we’d dragged about 200 yards. That got everyone moving! Fortunately, we were at the edge of the bay with no one behind us. We went out into the cockpit, upped anchor and reset, dragged again and reset. The reset was complicated by the fact that the anchor chain clumped up and jammed belowdeck after about 60 feet, so David had to run up and down from the bow to shake it loose.
While we were resetting, the wind blustered from 20 to 23 knots. Trying to point into a strong wind is a challenge, because it catches Raven’s bow and blows her around like a top when we aren’t moving forward (you have to stop to lower the anchor). NOAA had forecast 10-15 knots for today. I shouldn’t have been surprised at the discrepancy. We have a friend who says that to get the NOAA wind forecast to be accurate, you have to add 10 knots to the wind speed and assume it will blow opposite to the direction forecast. That’s probably a little exaggerated, but it’s how we end up feeling!
Once we set, David hauled the remaining 150 feet of chain up on deck to inspect and untwist it. This is a dirty operation, as the chain has rusty dust all over it, which instantly muddies the deck (my beautiful used-to-be clean deck) and gets on your hands, your feet, your clothes, whatever lines may be around, and of course the dinghy, which was still fastened to the foredeck. The wind frisked happily all blinking afternoon and we were afraid the anchor would pop up again (although with 120 feet of chain out the second time, that seemed unlikely), so I sat in the cockpit and stared forlornly at the beach and the tiki bar and all the trappings of civilization I thought I’d get to sample today, but can’t because of the wind.
I was picturing a mild breeze and a lazy afternoon on the beach. I realize this is just another case of being blindsided by expectations, but I am getting a bit testy on the subject. We’ve been in the Bahamas two weeks today, and I’ve been ashore exactly three times, and have yet to sit on a beach under an umbrella. For some reason I have it in my head that if I do this, the trip will have been a success. Well, there’s always tomorrow. For today, I am licking my wounds (a splinter in my finger, a bruised ankle, and a kitchen cut) and waiting, although I am not waiting very patiently.
Our destination tomorrow is Marsh Harbour, where we hope to meet up with Viking Rose, friends we have not seen since Vero Beach. They are due in tomorrow as well. We can still explore here a bit, as the distance from here to there is not far and, hey, the wind will be blowing only 10-15 knots. NOAA says so.
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