Adventures Index:

• Marathon to Nassau - 28 Dec to 1 Jan
• Rose Island - 1-10 Jan
• Nassau again - 10-11 Jan
• Allen's Cay - 12-18 Jan
• Highborne Cay - 18-19 Jan
• Compass Cay - 20-22 Jan
• Staniel Cay - 22-30 Jan
• Black Point - 30-31 Jan
• Little Farmers Cay - 31 Jan to 3 Feb
• Bell Island to Nassau - 5-6 Feb
• Nassau, third time - 6-9 Feb
• Rose Island again - 9-13 Feb
• Nassau, yet again - 10-15 Feb
• 16-21 Feb. - Norman's Cay
• 21-25 Feb. - Norman's Pond
• 25 Feb. - 19 March - Warderick Wells
• 19-21 March - Bitter Guana Cay-Little Farmers Cay
• 21-22 March - Rudder Cut Cay
• 22-25 March - Lee Stocking Island
• 25-26 March - Rat Cay
• 26 March - 2 May - Georgetown
• 2-7 May - Cat Island
• 7-14 May - Conception Island
• 14-25 May - Cat Island again
• 25-31 May - Georgetown
• 31 May - 1 June - Channel Cay
• 1-3 June - sailing from Georgetown to Warderick Wells
• 3-17 June - Warderick Wells
• 17-18 June - Staniel Cay to Little Farmers
• 19-20 June - Pimlico Cays
• 20-24 June - Barraterre
• 25 June - 1 July - Georgetown
• 25 June - 1 July - San Salvador

We had been sitting at anchor in crowded Boot Key Harbor too long. Christmas and thoughts of family had made us homesick. The conveniences of Marathon encouraged us to spend money and expand our project list. Each project completed made Ginger more livable, but still we were uneasy and hoping that we would get a front to carry us across the Gulf Stream to a genuinely new place. The boat was seaworthy and up to the task, we were deep on our lines with stores, and the old year was drawing to a close. We didn't want to start 2002 in Florida.

Finally, a weak front rolled down from central Florida and was predicted to slow or stall just south of us. It promised easy, if boring, sailing and a long enough period of fair winds to get us safely on the banks. At 1830 on December 28 we brought up both anchors and washed off the last of the Florida mud as we tacked from the harbor. As we approached the draw-bridge we heard a shout from the darkness to starboard, "Ginger"! It was our friend from Sarasota George Salley (the younger) on Katherine B. We barely had time to shout that we were making our crossing and hear that they had just arrived and would be there a while. With slightly heavy hearts we continued through the bridge, out the channel, and southeast toward the Gulf Stream.

Winds were SSE and moderate but there was a good SE chop which slowed us and made it difficult to lay the course we intended. We picked our way ESE toward the reef with thoughts of heading ENE to Tavernier if things were too rough or slow outside. Ginger eventually settled in and we decided to make a go of it, finally passing out into Florida Strait near Coffins Patch. We progressed toward the Bahamas at just less than 3 knots.

By this time it was late and we had established watches - in turn we each made our best effort to sleep while the other supervised our progress and kept an eye out for shipping. The night watches were relatively uneventful and we were greeted at sunrise by beautiful blue skies, surreal deep-purple sea, moderate winds, and Portuguese Man-O-War sailing NE across our path. With the exception of somewhat fitful winds, conditions were perfect and by 0220 on December 30 we made Orange Cay on the Bahama Banks.

Once we made the Banks, the winds quit in earnest, and as we were exhausted, we just dropped our hook right there in about 30' of water and slept until daybreak. That morning the winds were light and NNE. Not particularly good for getting from Orange Cay to the Northwest Channel, but the water was beautiful and there were huge seastars clearly visible on the bottom. After completing breakfast and getting ready, we hauled up the anchor and did our best to head for the buoys that mark the entrance to the NW Channel.

At the whim of the changing tide, with no help from a light foul wind, we moved in slow, maddening, unproductive circles with Orange Cay nearby all morning. In five hours we made less than four miles toward the Northwest Channel. In frustration Kim raised the spinnaker. The decision was a good one: despite ghosting conditions, Ginger was able to gain enough speed to make her own wind on a close reach. Soon we were doing a satisfying 3.5 knots. Unfortunately, the best course we could make was NNW, and when we tacked to avoid Orange Cay, our best course was ESE. South was disappointing, but east was absolutely necessary so we carried on until it looked like our next tack would take us north of South Riding Rock.

Early that evening, closing with South Riding Rock just after dark, the wind fell away completely in a light drizzle. We sat immobile for a short while, and when the wind returned it was from the east and we were finally able to sail for our objective... to make a long story less long, the winds eventually settled in from the east and strengthened. We sailed through the night and it took another full day's sailing to make the Northwest Channel. We both are a little disappointed in Ginger's windward performance in moderate breeze and a chop, but we are still learning and the weather can't be helped sometimes.

We tacked through the Channel in the dark against rising ENE winds and the tide. Probably not advisable, but there was wind, Ginger requires only 3.5 feet of water, and we would be able to go very fast once we could lay the course from the Channel to New Providence. The Channel entrance itself was a little scary, on the charts it is shown to be rather narrow and flanked with reefs. There were a number of confusing lights, some white and steady, some white and flashing, some red and steady. We had not learned most of the tricks to getting Ginger to come about in a slop and the wind, waves and current caused us to miss a number of tacks. Eventually we were through and in the deep waters of the Northeast Providence Channel on a reach in building NE winds. Soon we were surfing 6-8' seas, triple reefed and headed straight for Nassau. The watches that night were wet and strenuous but we made marvelous time and by dawn we closed with Nassau Harbor.

At this point we were both exhausted. We were unpracticed at watchkeeping and two days and nights of sailing without stopping to rest had taken its toll. We were positively uncivil to each other over breakfast and had no idea what the day - January 1, 2002 - held in store for us. We had a series of confusing radio conversations with Nassau Harbor Control (I wanted help getting cleared in, they just want to keep track of the boats in the harbor). The harbor's anchorages are all notorious for strong current and poor holding, so we tried to call several marinas to no avail (0800 on New Year's Day...). We sailed around the harbor and on the recommendation of a gentleman on one of the boats in the anchorage we went and tied up to a huge tire next to the cruise ships on Prince George's Wharf.

Upon jumping ashore to tie up we were approached by a Harbor Control vessel and were told that the Wharf was a restricted area. The official was very kind and in addition to allowing us to remain at the Wharf long enough to clear in, he expedited our boarding paperwork and directed us to Customs and Immigration. Kim and I were both horribly landsick (wobbly, dizzy & woozy) and more than a little tired. We proceeded through the business of clearing in, aided by courteous officials who did not seem to resent serving dazed, swaying American sailors early in the morning following the previous night's Junkanoo festivities. With the paperwork completed we staggered back out into the bright sunlight and attempted to call our families.

The phone calls were our first brush with what would prove to be the only abiding frustration we have with cruising so far. The prepaid phone cards we had purchased on the advice of cruisers who returned the previous year did not work. The pay phones themselves have no phone number. The only way we could place a call was to buy a $20 Batelco phone card and pay a dollar a minute or call collect and cost our loved ones nearly $4.00 a minute. UGH! Needless to say, the card was purchased and the calls made, brief though they were. We then returned to Ginger and sailed her away from the Wharf, looking for a place we could stay and orient ourselves.

The anchorages looked truly frightening; in fact they made Boot Key Harbor look like a picnic. We again called marinas and again received no answers. We despaired and fled the harbor. Kim identified some potential anchorages at nearby islands and we sailed out of the harbor to the east, constantly fearful of running aground - the bottom looked so close. We had bad experiences with our depth sounder in Florida and so did not trust it, we had no experience judging the depth from the color yet and the charts made the exit look tricky and shallow (coral heads - oh my!). It was, however, a beautiful sailing day and we enjoyed a romping reach in this beautiful and alien land/seascape.

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We eventually identified a good anchorage at Rose Island that we could reach before dark and headed in. We dropped the hook and didn't leave the boat for the next three days. A powerful, mean front rolled in with strong pre-frontal squalls (boats in marinas in Nassau clocked nearly 50 knots of wind) and it blew over 30 knots from every point of the compass (twice) for the next 72 hours. We were both a little shell-shocked. Kimberly went crazy trying to work around the pitching, moaning boat; I read the 4 science fiction books that George Salley lent me. By the time the wind let up on the fourth day we were a little crazy. We had to get out of the boat and onto Bahamian soil. Over the next week we explored Rose Island and the little barrier island that protects the anchorage. Kim racked up new birds for her life-list. We regained our composure and set our minds toward making another go at Nassau.

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We made plans for Nassau: We would sail in, get a slip in a marina for one night, do laundry, buy groceries, make phone calls, try to check e-mail... It would be a whirlwind tour of the city! We motored in to Nassau Yacht Haven. There, helpful cruisers directed us to other of the city's assets like the City Market (a transplanted Winn Dixie). That afternoon we wandered off looking for internet cafes and bookstores (Kim needed a field guide for West Indian birds), but we strayed from the main streets and discovered just how scary walking in Nassau could be: narrow streets, no sidewalks, and traffic moving very fast (employing British driving practice). On one of the rare sidewalks, Kim tripped and fell flat on her face. After being at sea and Rose Island the noise and exhaust were overwhelming. Wilting before the challenge, we retreated to the marina and consoled ourselves with laundry and showers.

The next morning we set off with renewed enthusiasm after studying our map. We made it to downtown and had a nice breakfast in a cafe. After we finished breakfast, the rest of the shops downtown started to open up and we found the books that Kim needed and an internet cafe where we spent over an hour reading and replying to e-mail. We barely got back to the marina by noon to request a delayed check-out, but it was extremely satisfying to communicate with friends and family at home. We visited with some very nice folks on a large sailing yacht named Ceres who had admired Ginger. It turned out that both vessels were sailing for Allen's Cay the next day so we made arrangements to be in contact while en route. We then warped Ginger around in her slip and sculled out of the marina. We sailed back to the entrance of the Rose Island anchorage and as the weather was settled and the entrance was protected from the wind for the night, we got out out of the channel and just dropped the hook there about a mile from the normal anchorage and slept.

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We were up early the next day and sailing for Allen's when the sun rose. The winds were not what had been predicted and so we were faced with a long day, beating in light air. We got the spinnaker up and made the best of it. Mid-morning we sighted Ceres, a blue Bristol 42.5, emerging from Nassau Harbor on the rhumb line to Allen's and called Dick and Sally on the radio with a report of the conditions we were experiencing. They were motor-sailing due to the light conditions. I did some mental calculations and tried to time a tack that would bring the boats relatively close. As we crossed the rhumb line we saw that Ceres was going to pass well to the south; they had decided to sail after all.

Between Nassau and Allen's is a shallow area with coral heads called the Yellow Bank. The heads are dark and easy to see against the light turquoise backdrop of water over white sand. We sailed close to some of the heads intentionally to get a look at them - they were beautiful - and we decided we should return and dive there some day. About midday the wind went away entirely. Faced with the possibility that we might not make Allen's in daylight and feeling the tug of what would certainly be a pleasant dinner aboard Ceres we started our trusty engine the Beet. We powered along, Ginger happily steering herself, most of the afternoon on what appeared to be polished glass. We were less than an hour from Allen's when ripples finally appeared and we shut Beet down and ran into Allen's Cay, with the main and spinnaker wing and wing.

We were not prepared for how beautiful Allen's was. It is really a cluster of three cays, Allen's, Leaf and SW Allen's and they are inhabited by large, dark, truculent-looking iguanas. These iguanas are herbivorous, but they are fed so regularly by cruisers and tourists that they regard any human on their island with an earnest expectation of food. They aren't actually aggressive towards people, but they are toward each other, and they gather around quite close, looking up at you hungrily with very red eyes. To the people we sent iguana postcards...we apologize. We bought them before we saw the iguanas. The one on the card is not even close to correct. I think it must be a stock photo of some pet store animal back in the states. The Allen's Cay iguanas are dark, with black and reddish skin and scales, the heads are heavy, triangular and wedge shaped, the larger specimens have impressive dewlaps (multiple dangling chins), and those beady red eyes. They get around quite well, raising their bodies high above the sand and making wheel-like strokes with their hind legs as they lope/waddle/scamper. Their tails are powerful and they use them to swat one another during skirmishes for position in front of a potential bearer of handouts. We found that they liked most any cast-offs from our vegetarian galley. We think they liked the cabbage trimmings the most, but they ate onion skin, carrot peels, ginger skin, and lettuce with relish. Cucumber, however, was rejected...

We enjoyed socializing with Dick and Sally on Ceres, and Kim took Sally birding on several occasions. Sally is an artist and has a good eye, so she found taking field marks a simple matter. Her enthusiasm was most gratifying for Kimberly and they spent long hours stalking Bananaquits, Bahama Mockingbirds, Black-faced Grassquits, Yellow Warblers and other island specialties. We were sad to see them go when they headed south for Warderick Wells in the Exuma Land and Sea Park.

We did some snorkeling at Allen's and it was spectacular, if a little cold for our thin Floridian blood. We saw a myriad of new and strange fishes and creatures, I (Chris) even swam around a barracuda larger than I am. All the while we were working on the practical details of making life on/in Ginger work. We were finding it difficult to balance our energy/water budget with only two solar panels working. I fixed the third solar panel and we quibbled about water usage.

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We spent a night at Highborne Cay, where we were disappointed with the cost and quality of the produce (a cantaloupe exploded the day after we bought it) and with the lack of telephone service (the tower was knocked down by a hurricane in November). But we did find a gift for Sally on Ceres, a bird book. We bought it in the hope that we would catch up with them as we pressed on south. From there, we wanted to sail on Exuma Sound to Compass Cay, so we tried our luck with the two narrow cuts at the south end of Highborne. This proved to be a humbling, but edifying experience: with wind and strong current opposing us, and the choice of two very narrow cuts, bordered by rocks, even our many patient tacks could not take us through either cut. At one point we made the middle of one cut, but Ginger lightly touched bottom and we lost momentum. We ran downwind out of the cut, started the engine, and tried again. The engine died before we could make it through, and the captain resisted flogging the first mate for ignoring his order that she check the fuel level before weighing anchor. We settled for a much longer trip on Exuma Bank with lots of tacking.

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We caught up with Ceres at Compass Cay, but chose to anchor on the other end of the island from them. Compass Cay is really two long cays joined at their ends with a low mangrove swamp between them. The maximum elevation is almost 100 feet, and from that height it looks like dinosaurs ought to be wandering around. That first evening we chose to hike the mile or so (as the bird flies on the chart) down the island to meet Dick and Sally for dinner. We set out with about an hour and a half before nightfall and needed every minute to pick our way across and down the rugged terrain. We even did some 'scrub crashin' like Kim used to do back at Archbold, but we didn't get scratched up too badly. We eventually made our way to the marked trails that make it easy to get around the southern end of the island. We long to go back and walk every one of them. From the dock at Compass Cay Marina, Kim saw her first green flash.

At the end of the evening Dick ran us back to Ginger in their inflatable, much easier than the hike we had undertaken earlier! Everyone in the small natural harbor had encouraged us to move down for the next day, so we finally assented to do so. The next day Kim spent the morning birding the north end of the island and I had some quiet time on the boat. We waited until midday to move because the cut into Compass Cay's harbor is very shallow in places - most boats can only enter on high tide. The winds were SE and, given how tight the channel is we chose to motor down. When we got settled in on our mooring in the tiny, well protected harbor we rowed to the pier to tie Root up and go ashore. When Root banged into a piling (as she is wont to do) the resident nurse sharks swam over, expectantly - hoping for a handout. Apparently Tucker (the proprietor) considers the five small sharks to be pets and they are called in for feeding by banging on the dinghy pier. Less popular are the hermit crabs which apparently eat up all of Tucker's cat's food.

We decided to sail south to Staniel Cay with Ceres the next day, and when the time came (high tide) the wind was right, so we sailed out. Given the tight quarters there was some holding of breath and white knuckles among spectators on the pier, but we got out just fine. Ginger is really very handy for such maneuvering. I think we can say with confidence that we are the first boat in recent history to sail out of the Compass Cay harbor.

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We fully expected to have to motor half of the way to Staniel Cay. The wind was east, meaning windward work, and we were leaving late in the day. Much to our surprise, we found that by some creative navigation that took advantage of our shallow draft we were able to stay in the smooth water in the lee of the islands. The wind was fresh and Ginger romped along. We were able to lay our course all the way to the channel into Staniel and then tack in as the sun set. Ginger's performance in those conditions was quite a revelation, making over four knots and tacking through barely more than ninety degrees. As we sailed through the anchorage looking for a spot we were asked, "Do you not have an engine"?!

Staniel Cay was the first settlement we visited in the Bahamas. The settlement has three tiny general stores, a church, a yacht club with a restaurant, and another restaurant/bar, as well as a post office (actually someone's home, and lacking signage to indicate it is the post office). We arrived just hours before the mailboat did, and enjoyed the fresh broccoli, Romaine lettuce, bananas, and potatoes brought by the mailboat. Staniel Cay also boasts the Thunderball Grotto, a large cave that was the site of filming of the 1960s James Bond film Thunderball. You can swim through the cave at low tide and the fish and coral are spectacular -- particularly, we found, on the north outer wall of the cave. The Azure Vase Sponge, Longsnout Butterflyfish, and Gray Angelfish were our favorite finds there.

The tiny cemetery on Staniel Cay was the best birding spot on the island, with many species of wintering warblers and a flock of six Smooth-billed Anis -- birds that add nicely to the ambience of a cemetery. The Anis are large, black, and thuggish, and make a raucous, weird call perfectly appropriate where there are tombstones.

The night before Ceres headed south out of our reach, we saw the green flash together over beer at Club Thunderball and then enjoyed a pleasant dinner aboard Ceres and watched the film 'Chocolat' on DVD -- quite a sensory treat for us, and perhaps the only film we'll see this year. We were sad to see Dick and Sally go, and we considered our next move. We were by this point nearly out of cash, and though the yacht club kindly gave us cash from our credit card twice, this was a limited supply and certainly not enough to get us to Georgetown comfortably. We resolved to go to Nassau as soon as the wind picked up, but talk of the upcoming regatta at Little Farmers Cay reached us and we could not resist.

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We left Staniel close hauled in about 20 knots of breeze. We again took advantage of Ginger's shallow draft and a spring tide to stay close in the lee of the islands, passing through areas normally completely unavailable to sailing vessels. Lots of wind and smooth water made for marvelous and fast sailing. We normally would have had difficulty laying the course we needed to make, but conditions were perfect and we had five to ten degrees in hand.

Some of the friends we made at Staniel Cay were headed to Little Farmers too, but were stopping at Black Point along the way - a rather short hop from Staniel. We brought the Black Point anchorage abeam early in the day and received a hail from Chris on Midnight Mail, a singlehander and a Crealock 37, respectively. He encouraged us to come in, tempting us with news that there was an internet connection available, free RO water available to cruisers (in moderation because it is the town's water supply) and that the local c-class boat had been practicing for the regatta the previous afternoon. I was loathe to stop when we were getting along so well, I feared that our strong E winds would turn SE the next day. We were non-committal on the radio and discussed it as we approached the shoals that protect the anchorage from the west. We both decided that we would just stop in, visit Chris, get water, and check our e-mail, then get on our way to Little Farmers. With that decided, in we went, tacking through the anchored boats to a shallow spot close in to the dinghy docks.

Sailing up to our spot, we couldn't help but notice a beautiful wooden ketch. She had a sweet low sheer, ivy scrollwork on her bulwarks forward and a long bowsprit. Her name was Dawn Treader. We waved to her crew and promised to stop by for a quick visit before we left. With that we rowed ashore and got a load of water, then went in search of the 'internet cafe.' We found the Club Scorpio Bar and Grill and the owner led us to his office where he offered us a seat at his desk where we would dial up via Batelco phone lines to Batelnet. The attempt proved futile, the connection was poor and worse, our server was down. So we went back out front to settle up with Zhivago Rolle, the proprietor and saw Bob and Ching, the crew of M/V Alligator a modified Biloxi Lugger, at the bar. We had met them at Staniel and they had given us an extensive tour of Alligator in addition to encouraging us to come down to the Little Farmers regatta. Bob had spent six years building Alligator and his care and experience on the water showed. She was an excellent cruising boat, luxurious even, and her layout and detailing were functional and comfortable. We visited with them for a while and, with apologies, excused ourselves with the intention of getting underway again for Little Farmers.

On the way back to Ginger we saw Dawn Treader's crew on deck and they waved us over. We rowed up and introduced ourselves to Bob and Liese, their dog Daisy and their cat Kit. We sat and talked and found that we had a lot in common with them, but they have much more experience than we do. They are vegetarian and are cruising a simple, unique boat on a small budget.

Bob gave me a thorough tour of the boat: Dawn Treader is a Pete Culler design, modeled after Commodore Ralph Monroe's Presto-type sharpies, she is nearly 40 feet on deck and is traditionally constructed plank-on-frame. Pete Culler had modified the Presto-type some, her topsides showed very little flare and she obviously had a deeper forefoot than the Commodore's designs. Her masts are filament-wound carbon fiber over spruce, immensely strong, light and considerably taller than intended by the designer. Being a shallow and narrow boat, she was quite small below for a vessel of her length, and Bob and Liese had worked out some clever modifications to make use of the available space. Her powerplant, called Queenie, is one of Beet's big sisters - an 18 hp two-cylinder Sabb. Of note: many of the parts were identical, but our flywheel was easily twice the size, certainly due to a two-cylinder's better inherent balance.

While Bob and I focused on Dawn Treader, Liese and Kim's discussion ranged widely, including practical cruising matters. Liese had lots of good advice on running a ship and making the most of available resources. One tip that may be of interest to those of you who like camping or picnicking and would like to bring cheese along, but worry about its freshness: if it is sliced and placed in a closed container with olive oil it will keep without refrigeration for weeks. When the cheese is consumed the oil has taken on a delightful flavor and is good for everything from cheesy salad dressing to cooking.

The afternoon wore pleasantly on into early evening and it became clear we had missed our opportunity to continue to Little Farmers that day. We cheerfully resigned ourselves to remaining at Black Point and the four of us enjoyed dinner on Ginger. Early the next morning after securing more water, we got underway.

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Conditions were nearly identical to the previous morning so we made good time, close hauled for Little Farmers Cay. We made the anchorage in good time and enjoyed a quiet evening in anticipation of the next day's Ocean Race which was to be from White Point to Little Farmers.

The next morning we sailed up to White Point, the planned starting point for the day's ocean race. There was lots of wind and we deep reached at about six knots the whole way, which made me think of the passage to Nassau we had postponed to come down for the regatta. As we were sailing up to the point, we saw a large, attractive ketch with a green hull. A check with the binoculars confirmed that it was the Katherine B. We were very eager to see the Salleys again so we sailed in and anchored near them. When we had gotten Ginger settled we rowed over and the Georges, Betty and Coffee (the cat) welcomed us aboard. We did a little catching up, exchanged some books and discussed cruising plans. Katherine B was headed south to Georgetown straight away. After a short visit, we made our goodbyes and rowed back to Ginger.

While we had been on the Katherine B we had heard on the radio that due to some transportation problems, the race had been relocated and rescheduled. We also saw Dawn Treader go by, one reef tucked into her oversized rig, on her way to the anchorage at Little Farmers. As we got ourselves underway, we saw that one other boat rounding White Point was under sail as well - Midnight Mail. We worked our way down to where we understood the new starting line would be for the day's race and milled around in company with Chris, waiting for the race boats to assemble. We got to sail along with some of the race boats on the way to the line and found that, running at least, Ginger did better than hold her own. Granted, the race boats are a little more than half our size, but they actually carry more sail area and certainly weigh much less.

The race was very exciting, especially the beginning. We had been to leeward of the race course most of the time we were waiting and, at the last moment I decided that we would have a better vantage point on the windward side of the course. Kim became quite agitated as we sailed across the bows of the anchored, poised race boats. When I felt we were well clear, we headed up to wait for the start, turned and noticed that the sails were coming up! The race was underway and we would be quite close to the action. Part of my decision to move across was a reflection on the strategy I would have used if I were in the race. The course was to windward, but not so close that most of the boats would fail to make it in one tack. I did not expect it would pay to tack up into the lee of the island right at the start and risk the high hills disrupting the wind... regardless, that is exactly what a couple of the boats chose to do, which left us right in the middle of the field.  Actually, we were dead to windward of the start, so none of the boats could reach the spot I had chosen to stop, but it was exciting to have race boats on both sides. We tried to keep up with the little boats as long as we could, but on that point of sail at least, even the slowest of them showed us their transoms in short order (by contrast Chris on Midnight Mail had to luff his sails to keep from sailing through the fleet from the rear). We headed back to the anchorage quite satisfied as the race boats neared the finish.

The next morning Kim saw her first Zenaida Dove on Little Farmers. Later we made arrangements to do a day sail with Bob and Liese, so they could get a feel for how the Chinese lug rig works and performs. As we got ready to go, we watched the first race of the day - the course was laid out right next to our anchorage. We had a nice sail, Dawn Treader's crew put Ginger through her paces and I showed them how the rig functions and did some "Junk tricks." When the next race started, we sailed around the course with the boats, at least until the windward leg. The racing was very good, it was interesting to see the differences between the boats and how the skipper's strategies played out, frequently a race was apparently won by the choice of which sail to carry (they only have one and do not change sail during a race). There was lots of jostling around the buoys, but no contact between the boats that I saw. There were some casualties too: one capsize & sinking, a broken mast and a broken boom. Now we can't wait to see the big A-class boats in action in Georgetown at the end of April.

When the regatta was done we all made our plans to disperse. Chris was going south towards Georgetown, Bob and Liese were going whichever direction was easiest, and we were committed to returning to Nassau to get our mail, replenish our stores, and try to improve our communications situation. When morning came, the winds dictated a northward course for Dawn Treader as well so we decided to swap crew and sail in company, Bob and me on the ketch, Kim and Liese on Ginger.

The wind was light and with all sail set the two boats kept company pretty well, Dawn Treader slowly overhauled Ginger until we dropped the jib and carried on under drifter, main and mizzen. By just after lunch we had to each return to our own vessels and go our own ways. They started Queenie and chugged off for Pipe Creek while we chose to drift on towards Harvey Cay. The wind went so light that, without dropping the sail, I jumped in, scrubbed the bottom and took a bath. We anchored in the open on the north edge of Harvey Cay. The next morning the wind was still light, but as the day wore on it clocked around to the west and freshened. We made a short day of it and tucked into a small cove on the NE side of Bell Island. A front was coming and we needed protection from the north and northwest.

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Bell Island provided good protection from the first part of the front. Unfortunately, by the time the wind had gone N the waves were wrapping around through the cut and into our otherwise snug anchorage. We pitched and rolled for a day before deciding the conditions were good to make a run at Nassau. It was blowing 20 - 25 knots from the NE and on the Banks in the lee of the islands, the seas would not be too bad. We hauled up the anchor after lunch, motored into the wind and swell to get clear of the anchorage and then set sail for Nassau. The winds held, strong from the NE through the night and we made very good time reaching the eastern entrance to Nassau Harbor well before dawn. We didn't want to risk the narrow entrance in the dark so we lay, close hauled with the helm tied down until the sun was well up. Then we turned and sailed into the harbor.

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Big city, bank, groceries, scary anchorages (but we are up to it now), e-mail, phone calls, etc. We had to sail back and forth through the anchorage four times before finding an acceptable spot and it was interesting to see the reactions of different people as we tacked close to their anchored boats. Some smiled and waved, some cheered and offered Ginger compliments, some scowled and made it clear that they were concerned we would cause an accident. The next morning a sailor from a nearby boat came by for a quick visit. It turned out that he was brother-in-law to Colonel 'Blondie' Hasler, a significant figure in the popularization of the Junk rig in England.

Our watermaker, blessed thing, requires running every three days or so to keep bacteria from colonizing the membrane. The water in Nassau Harbor is too dirty to run through it so despite the fact that much of our business remained undone, we headed away from the noise and the filth to Rose Island for a few days to relax and fill our tanks.

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On our way from the Harbor to Rose Island we were passed by a sleek trimaran that had been anchored near us in the Harbor. We were tacking painstakingly against the wind, but with the benefit of the tide. The helmsman on the trimaran gave us an enthusiastic thumbs up as he passed. It was too late in the day to be headed anywhere else but Rose, so I looked forward to seeing him there and getting a look at his boat.

We arrived after dark so we anchored well out in a poorly protected part of the anchorage to avoid sailing into any unlit boats. It was a rough night, and when we awoke we immediately got the anchor up and sailed up into the shallow, quiet part of the anchorage. The trimaran was in much further still, taking advantage of what was obviously very shallow draft. I rowed over to say hello and Jan greeted me and waved me closer. Meredith stood in the cockpit while Jan and I introduced ourselves, and our boats. Their boat, Asapwal had banners on her flanks, "Hooray, it's a boy"! He and Meredith had sailed up from Georgetown to have their first child in the hospital at Nassau. They had been in the harbor for three weeks and now, with Nash safely delivered and Meredith largely recovered they were very ready to head for home. All they needed was favorable wind.

The wind remained from the southeast for several days, keeping them around and we enjoyed their company. Jan is a very experienced sailor and boat builder who is now an artist living in Georgetown. I picked his brain on many topics and enjoyed his many stories. They invited us over to get a look at Asapwal, she was very spartan, but comfortable - I think more comfortable than Ginger with even less interior space. He had chosen to forgo walking space through most of the boat, and in return he got a large, comfortable sprawling space with copious storage beneath. The overall impression was of openness and plenty of air, the sculpted fiberglass forms suggesting whitewashed adobe.

Eventually, on the day we planned to head back to Nassau to finish our business, the winds were steady from the ENE and Asapwal left just as the sun began to tinge the eastern clouds. I hope their passage was fast and safe. We waited until afternoon so the tide would be fair once we reached the harbor...and then there was a downpour. I guess we felt more like bucking the current than sailing in the rain, we waited until it stopped before hauling up the hook and heading for Nassau again.

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Kim sailed us nearly into the harbor when the wind went very light, which with the foul current made for very slow going. The eastern anchorage looked very full when we sailed over to take a look, but there was one absolutely amazing boat - a Herreshoff Mobjack. We couldn't resist it so we sailed over for a closer look. Once over there we saw that there was probably room for us close in against shore so we sailed in through the boats, dropped the hook, launched the dinghy and after setting the second anchor and making all secure we rowed over for a closer look.

North Star is magnificent. Cold-molded mahogany and epoxy, long and low, bronze, varnish, gold leaf scrollwork on the trailboards, butterfly skylight hatch... The owners were aboard and invited us aboard straightaway. Bob and Liese of Dawn Treader had told us to look out for a Mobjack with friends of theirs aboard so with that as a foot-in-the-hatch we made introductions all around. John and Kay made us most welcome, he taking me on a thorough and painstaking tour of North Star, and Kim and Kay talking in the cockpit. We hit it off immediately and Kay and Kim hatched a plan to go birding first thing the next morning. The plans were for 0630 so, as we were tired, we excused ourselves and rowed back toward Ginger.

We didn't quite get there. As we were rowing past the sleek ocean racer Gava anchored right next to Ginger we were hailed in a strong English accent. Our audience was demanded and he nearly gaffed us and brought us aboard like a pair of Dorado. We met Canadians Michael and Linda (Michael is an English ex-pat) of Gava (pronounced GO-va) and Canadians Tony and Maria of the cappucino-colored sloop Bretanha. After plying us with cold Bahamian beer Michael interrogated us about Ginger, the Chinese lug rig and anything else that came to mind. Michael had been very impressed by our sailing in and anchoring under sail. He made strong protestations that he would like to do the same thing...it was just that all the electrics needed charging. He was a little disappointed to find out that we did, in fact, have an engine ("You WANKER! Give me back that beer!), the fact that we don't use it much notwithstanding. The conversation was spirited and rowdy, and we were very tired when we finally excused ourselves and rowed the last few feet to Ginger and our waiting berths.

The rest has been birding and business and now our stay in Nassau is drawing to a close. We need to get back to the Exumas. Back to the quiet and the clean waters.

We hesitate to make public our plans (prone as they are to change), but we are likely to work our way slowly south in the Exumas and arrive in Georgetown (on Great Exuma) in mid-March. We eagerly anticipate a visit from Chris's parents in Georgetown during the first week of April. A big regatta will keep us in the general area of Georgetown through the end of April. After that, your guess is as good as ours right now; however, for May, south is likely.

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I sit comfortably on Ginger's starboard side deck, back against the cabin top, feet dangling high above the water... water is lapping gently along the port rail, several inches up the side deck but nowhere near the ports. It's a lovely sunny day and we sit - yes, quite aground - 230 feet from blue water. Chris is busy scrubbing Ginger, getting just the bottom of his shorts wet. Maybe you followers of our adventures are thinking, I thought the Brands might stay off the ground with all that crystal-clear water telling them where the shallows are... indeed, we are aground on purpose this time, and for once I don't mind at all. I'm waiting for fresh paint at the waterline, on the bow, to dry.

I know unequivocally now that we should always have a steel boat. Steel vs. limestone... steel wins (paint loses, though). On 18 Feb. we hit Norman's Cay. We had sailed overnight from Nassau, and between the need to leave Nassau with light for navigation and a desire to sail with the leading edge of the front we made a poor compromise and left in the late afternoon of the 17th. This put us at Norman's Cay around 0400, and though it was dark, Chris sailed us into the anchorage. Instead of rising to take my watch I heard the rattle of the anchor chain. Ginger settled in nicely and we both went to sleep.

In the morning, the current changed with the tide and we swung too close to our neighbor, the sailing vessel Liesel, whose excellent captain smiled and waved and politely set out his fenders. We smiled back and quickly weighed anchor and made sail. We hoped to reanchor close to the cay in a nice shallow spot where we would be out of the strong current running through the rest of the anchorage. We sailed around looking for a spot that would have enough water for Ginger at low tide. Not here... not there... must be closer in... yikes, better tack... WE'RE NOT TACKING... CRUNCH! Ginger took a big bite out of Norman's Cay. Chunks of limestone fell on either side of her bow.

Stupefied and indescribably embarrassed, I belatedly dropped the sail and Chris pushed Ginger away from the cay using the yuloh (sculling oar). Some cruisers appeared in an inflatable offering help, which we (I hope politely, but I'm not sure) denied; the only help we needed was comfort for our bruised egos. We sailed to a suitable, deep spot, in the middle of the current, and ironically anchored next to the only boat whose crew has ever criticized us (out loud) for sailing too close to other boats in an anchorage.

Happily, John and Kay on North Star were also our neighbors, and they comforted us, as did our friends on Gava later over beer and dinner at MacDuff's on Norman's Cay. I eventually inspected Ginger's bow and found the steel in perfect condition, though bare in some places. Touch-up paint was the only needed repair. To that end, a week later we sailed into Norman's Pond, a well-protected bay north of our present anchorage. We careened Ginger and for the first time I was happy to be aground.

21-25 Feb. - Normans Pond

We sailed onto the sand at 0400 on 22 Feb., a few hours past high tide. Chris put two anchors out. We went back to sleep while the tide continued to fall and Ginger began to lean to port. In the morning, I painted and Chris scrubbed. During the intermediate (lower) high tide, Chris rearranged anchors so Ginger then leaned to starboard, giving him easy access to that side of the hull. We kedged off at 0300 23 Feb., touch-up paint dry, bottom clean, and egos somewhat healed.

- Kim

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25 Feb.-19 Mar. - Warderick Wells

We spent three weeks at the Exuma Cays Land and Sea Park, the first land and sea park in the world. Both of us volunteered for the park; Chris was volunteer coordinator and drove the park boat on various errands, and I helped out in the office, assigning moorings and selling t-shirts. It was a nice change of pace for us, but at the end of three weeks we were glad to get back to cruising. For most of our time there we kept Ginger on a mooring, which was pleasantly worry-free. We made many new friends at the park, including of course Ray and Evelyn Darville and their sons Jonathan and Patrick; Blue, the volunteer who keeps the island of Warderick Wells operating smoothly and keeps tabs on the park wildlife (Blue actually pets and hand-feeds Bubba the Barracuda, who hangs around the mooring field: "you have to look him RIGHT in the eye, then you can pet him..."). We also made many new cruising friends - Pat and Wayne of Envoy, Jeff and Forrest of Socia, Phyllis and Fred of Finesse, the adventuresome foursome of Altair - and enjoyed a reunion with Gava, which involved some serious Scrabble (I should mention that after all these years under my tutelage Chris has become a proficient Scrabble player; indeed, it pains me to admit that he often beats me. The games on Gava were no exception: Chris and Linda of Gava stomped all over Michael and me and Linda's sister and brother-in-law. Twice.)

- Kim

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19-21 Mar- Bitter Guana Cay - Little Farmers Cay to Georgetown

At Little Farmers Cay we were delighted to catch up with North Star. We wasted no time in getting together and aboard North Star enjoyed a dinner of macaroni and cheese with fresh swiss chard (!) from a garden at Black Point. We traveled in company with John and Kay all the way to Georgetown, making short day trips and spending lots of time adventuring. At Lee Stocking Island we were very disappointed not to be allowed ashore, so we instead visited nearby Norman's Pond Cay (quite distant from Norman's Pond!), which contains an old salt pan. We enjoyed watching a pair of white-morph Reddish Egrets with an insistent kid. We finally arrived in Georgetown 26 March.

- Kim

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Happily we sailed into Elizabeth Harbour after the peak of the cruising season there; in March 450 boats filled the harbour. When we arrived the harbour was still crowded, with about 380 boats. Chris's parents flew in to spend the first week of April with us. They took a hotel room ashore, at lovely Regatta Point, and we happily used the bathtub and shower as often as we could. We sailed around the harbour almost every day of their visit; snorkeled; walked around town; and enjoyed the simple luxury of being together. The weather was delightful until the penultimate day of the visit. Despite increasing wind and an ugly forecast, we sailed across the harbour to attend Beach Church. A squall passed over us during the service, and we should have sailed back to Georgetown and the hotel right away, but we had invited the minister, Doug, and his wife Lois for a visit aboard Ginger following the service. By the time they disembarked from Ginger, the wind was honking. I tried to bring up the anchor and gave up. We tried to no avail to get a powerboat ride for Mom and Dad back to their hotel. Feeling we had no other option, we turned on the engine and motored across the harbour in a nasty chop. We anchored in Kidd's Cove, the only protected anchorage near Georgetown, and Ginger promptly dragged for the first time (there wasn't room enough in the tiny, crowded cove for adequate scope). Dad Brand and I went on the foredeck to bring the anchor up and were drenched with waves breaking over the bow. By this time it was blowing a near gale. We motored across the channel and anchored in a completely exposed spot, with Regatta Point as our lee shore. Ginger pitched madly, but the holding is good there and our trusty Bulwagga set nicely. We all went ashore and kept a constant watch on Ginger; as an added precaution, Chris borrowed the keys to Regatta Point's Boston Whaler and obtained permission to use it to get to Ginger should she drag. We enjoyed dinner together all the more because we had thought we might have to say goodbye a day early, then Chris and I rowed out to Ginger for a nervous night of sleep. The anchor continued to hold, so we rowed ashore in the morning and stayed with Mom and Dad until their taxi arrived to take them to the airport.

The wind continued to blow >30 knots for four more days. We knew the anchor was well set, and we did not relish the idea of trying to motor against wind and waves to a more comfortable anchorage, so we stayed put. Happily our friends on Socia and Neshamah were anchored in Kidd's Cove, and we spent several fun evenings with them.

We hung around Elizabeth Harbour for two more weeks, anticipating the Family Island Regatta and making new friends. We especially enjoyed the company of Mike and Paddy Briant on Chi Lin, a three-masted ferro-cement junk. Mike kept Chris busy with reading material. We spent time with North Star and Dawn Treader, too, and with Cgull Seeker, and chatted with Reuel Parker, a boat designer/builder Chris has long admired, who was on a beautifully built three-masted junk. Reuel greatly admired Ginger.

The Family Island Regatta was well worth the wait! I'll let the photos tell the story...

- Kim

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A while ago our brother-in-law, Todd Gardner, asked what we eat afloat. In answer to Todd's good question, I kept a food log during the month of May, modeled loosely after Lin Pardey's The Care and Feeding of Sailing Crew. Here's what we ate and did each day of May 2002.

1 May

breakfast: oatmeal
lunch: leftover tofu curry-in-a-hurry with rice
sundown snack: popcorn with butter and nutritional yeast
dinner: potato-cabbage stew, cheese and crackers

Today held much of what makes cruising fun. Chris and I rowed ashore at 0700 to Crab Cay (in Elizabeth Harbour). This was his first trip ashore there, and I eagerly showed him a Thick-billed Vireo nest, the extensive Loyalist ruins, and several Mangrove Cuckoos (a life bird for Chris, for whom I keep a mental list; he was appropriately thrilled by this bird). We also enjoyed a courtship display by a male Greater Antillean Bullfinch. We rowed over to North Star to discuss sailing plans and quickly decided to sail across the harbour to Fowl Cay for afternoon snorkeling and to sail NE the next morning, either to Conception Island or Cat Island, depending on the wind. Snorkeling at Fowl Cay was excellent, with new fish sightings for all of us. A school of bonefish, two young pompano, midnight parrotfish, queen triggerfish, yellowhead wrasse, young mahogany snapper, yellowtail damselfish; a live flame helmet, branching fire coral... a small hawksbill sea turtle... and to crown the day a Wilson's Storm Petrel working just inside the cut. John and Kay joined us on Ginger for post-snorkeling reef-creature identification and discussion and popcorn, which then led to dinner.

2 May

breakfast: grits (cheese grits for K, syrupy grits for C)
morning snack: Digestive cookies
lunch: leftover cabbage-potato stew, with quinoa (cooked at breakfast)
afternoon snack: more Digestives
dinner: squash-chickpea-bell pepper salad with mustard-soy sauce dressing; cheese and crackers; Kay's unique chocolate-chip-marmalade cookies, all aboard North Star

Today was a glorious sailing day. We averaged 4.9 knots and sailed between 5 and 6 knots for much of the day. We sailed 50 nautical miles, from Fowl Cay (south entrance to Elizabeth Harbour) to New Bight, Cat Island. We can see the Hermitage, atop the highest point in the Bahamas, from our anchorage.

Preservation of leftovers on a boat in the tropics with no refrigeration can be tricky. We put the leftovers into our pressure cooker if they are sufficiently wet - e.g., soups and stews - or in a casserole dish on a rack with water in the bottom of the cooker. We then heat the cooker until it reaches low pressure, turn the heat off, and leave the cooker sealed, which is like canning the food. We almost always polish off the food the next day. We find that some foods, especially pasta, keep just fine sitting in a cool part of the boat, but only until an early lunch the following day (really, Mom, we've never gotten sick!).

3 May

breakfast: local bananas, raisins, almonds, Tang
morning snack: our last Power Bar, more Digestives
lunch: cheese and crackers, two red bell peppers, mango chutney
dinner: carrot-cabbage millet with lime juice

We spent the morning exploring the Hermitage, built by Father Jerome, a Franciscan monk and architect. Earlier in his life he had been a Catholic and Anglican priest. Father Jerome built many beautiful stone churches in the Bahamas. He built the Hermitage to scale, so that until you get all the way to the top of Mount Alvernia and stand before it you do not realize that it is small: even I had to stoop slightly to enter any of its doorways.

We explored the trails around the Hermitage, too. I was glad to watch birds on a big island: we saw 16 species, including several Gull-billed Terns foraging over the coppice. We explored a bat cave and a trail lined with big bromeliads. After we descended from Mount Alvernia, John willingly traded his T-shirt (Julius Peterson boatyard, Nyack, NY) with that of a Cat Islander with a cold Kalik in his hand and one in his back pocket. John's new shirt advertises the Progressive Liberal Party, which won the election last night.

Late in the afternoon a local schoolteacher drove up to the beach with a car full of produce. Disappointingly, none of it was local. Apparently Cat Islanders, like other Bahamians, no longer have much interest in farming, though we did see a few small plots with crops on Cat Island. We bought four potatoes, 3 limes, two plantains, four big carrots, a hand of bananas, one cabbage and a few bunches of dried thyme - the only locally grown item.

4 May

breakfast: rice
lunch: hummus and tomatoes on crackers
afternoon snack: cold Kalik and johnniecakes
dinner: leftover millet

With John and Kay we walked all the way across the island to the Atlantic Ocean on a track road. It was a long (10 miles), hot walk. John and Kay are not ones to turn around before the end of a trail... We encountered a herd of goats and their keeper. When we returned to the beach where we had left the dinghy, Pompey Johnson, a self-described local politician, greeted us and insisted we join him for beer at the Bluebird Restaurant. The cold Kalik revived us after our long walk, and the johnniecakes, a crusty pan-cooked bread, were tasty. Apparently the name originates from "journey cake," traveling food. Pompey regaled us with stories. He claims Mr. Armbrister, a Loyalist who built a home low on Mount Alvernia, as his grandfather. He and other family members seem to own much of the land in New Bight.

5 May

breakfast: bananas
lunch: cheese and crackers
dinner: rice with coconut, raisins, bananas, and yogurt on North Star

We took a day off from our shore adventures for rest and laundry. Continuing the theme of how we live without refrigeration, our favorite trick (shared with us by Dawn Treader) is to keep cheese in oil. Inexplicably, cheese is cheap in the Bahamas and of excellent quality. It is imported from Ireland and New Zealand. We simply stack cheese slices in a glass jar and top it off with olive oil. The oil can be reused several times, and we also use it for cooking. The cheese lasts at least three weeks, and we've never had any go bad in the jar.

6 May

breakfast: rice
lunch: a Cadbury bar and Rich Tea Biscuits
dinner: black beans and wheat berries

We hiked to the Hermitage and then north along Cat Island's main road almost to the airport and hitchhiked back to the dinghy beach. We bought our lunch at a well-stocked shop along the way. In the afternoon we sailed to the south end of Cat Island and anchored there. Impatient to get under way while Chris snoozed below, I raised the sail myself. Ginger promptly sailed over and past the anchor. My shout got Chris's attention, and he came on deck and backed the sail while I waited on the foredeck. Ginger sailed backwards, actually leaving a wake off the bow, and I easily pulled in the anchor rode. So we learned a new junk trick, but we're not sure we can repeat it on demand!

7 May

breakfast: bananas
lunch: mac & cheese with canned green beans
dinner: black bean wheat berry soup

We sailed from Cat Island to Conception Island today. Winds were unfavorable until late afternoon. We romped along at 6 knots for the last 15 miles or so, and so dropped the hook just at dark, aided by information from North Star, which had arrived two hours earlier. Had the wind not increased and shifted in our favor, we would have had to wait offshore all night.

Mac & cheese is one of our favorite boat foods. We always add a can of something and use the liquid from the can as part of the cooking liquid for the macaroni. We use just enough liquid to cook the macaroni with no water left over at the end. Water conservation is a priority, and besides, we like to use the whole weight of the can because we've been carrying it with us.

8 May

breakfast: bananas
lunch: tofu "egg salad" on crackers
dinner: leftover bean soup and Chris's bread

Conception Island is high, for the Bahamas, and the interior of the island is filled with creeks and mangrove flats. We explored these lovely creeks today in North Star's dinghy, Little Dipper.

Tofu is a great boat food: in Florida we stocked up on Japanese-style, vacuum-packed tofu blocks. This type of tofu keeps long past the expiration date and isn't ruined if the package gets wet. We brought 50 blocks from Florida and also acquired 25 blocks from Jeff and Forrest on Socia. The tofu-eaters aboard Socia went home to Maine early in the cruise, and Jeff and Forrest were eager to remove as much weight as possible from their high-performance catamaran. To make tofu "egg salad," we mash the tofu with mustard powder, curry powder, pickle relish if we have it, and whatever else occurs to us.

Ginger does not have a real oven, so Chris devised one for making bread. A cylindrical steel baffle, made for surrounding our pressure cooker to conserve heat and also protect the flame, comprises the oven "wall." A pot lid on top of the baffle and a cast-iron skillet with the handle cut off inside the baffle comprise the rest of the oven. Chris lays the dough into a Bundt pan and rests the pan on the cast-iron skillet with a bit of aluminum foil between to prevent the bread from burning.

9 May

breakfast: bananas
lunch: peanut butter and jelly sandwiches
dinner: fried plantains and pizza on North Star

Today Chris dismantled our kerosene stove and attempted to repair both burners. I spent the morning ashore with John and Kay and the afternoon in refuge aboard North Star, as Ginger was a mess and reeked of kerosene. Chris managed to get everything put back together by dinnertime, and Kay kindly invited us to dinner aboard North Star. Pizza is a treat anywhere, and maybe even more so on a boat. Kay made bread today and saved enough dough to cover the bottom of her cast-iron skillet. She topped the pizza dough with cheese, onions, and tomatoes, and cooked it slowly until the bottom was delightfully crispy, the dough cooked through, and the cheese melted. Of course it was delicious.

10 May

breakfast: rice
lunch: couscous with sun dried tomatoes
dinner: garlic mashed potatoes
dessert: Mei's cocoa-oatmeal cookies

All four of us adventured ashore today, walking the east shore of the island. We enjoyed the activities of Black-necked Stilts at a seasonal pond and loafed in the coppice for our lunch and siesta. After seeking them for months, we finally found some orchids in full bloom, with lovely yellow flowers.

11 May

breakfast: leftover potatoes, shaped into patties and fried in cheese oil
lunch: ship's biscuits and more fried potatoes, this time coated in bread crumbs
dinner: stromboli with Chinese-style filling: textured vegetable protein, garlic, onions, and cabbage, aboard Atom
dessert: Mei's strawberry jam cake

Atom is the first boat we've been aboard that is smaller than Ginger. She is a Pearson Triton, 28' long and 8' wide. Her cabin makes Ginger's seem capacious. James has lived aboard Atom for 20 years and circumnavigated twice in her; his wife Mei joined him about a year ago. Mei's stromboli were so perfectly golden and crusty that we both stuffed ourselves. See www.atomvoyages.com.

12 May

breakfast: cinnamon-sugar toast
lunch: jasmine rice with cabbage, garlic, sesame oil, and a can of salsa verde
dinner: black bean wheat berry soup with salsa verde and bread
dessert: Mei's strawberry jam cake

We again explored Conception's creeks with John and Kay in the Little Dipper. We found a group of at least six sea turtles, both green and hawksbill, and watched them from shore as they surfaced to breathe every few minutes. A hawksbill surfaced within 20 feet of us! All of the turtles were young; the carapace of the largest turtle was perhaps 18 inches long. We enjoyed the company of James and Mei aboard Ginger for dinner.

13 May

breakfast: jasmine rice with soy milk, cinnamon, and sugar
morning snack: Mei's strawberry jam cake; yogurt with canned pineapple, aboard North Star
lunch: skipped it, not hungry
dinner: pasta salad with leftover black bean soup, Kay's cole slaw, Mei's cocoa-oatmeal cookies, aboard North Star with James and Mei, too

Chris and I enjoyed an easy morning and a walk ashore in the afternoon. We admired tropicbirds in their nesting burrows in the rocks, and scavenged a rubrail for our dinghy from the beach. Dinner aboard North Star was meant to be a "just in case farewell" as all three crews planned to sail the next day, Atom definitely headed for Cat Island, and Ginger hoping for San Salvador. North Star was considering San Salvador but seemed inclined toward Cat Island.

We cleared the tip of the reef that extends 8 nm north of Conception and tried to lay the course to San Salvador, finding that we could sail the course, but too slowly to allow us to arrive before dark. So we changed course for Cat Island and arrived there, at Old Bight, after Atom and North Star. We all swam ashore, chatted on the beach, and retired to our own boats for rest. On Ginger we ate a quick, easy meal.

15 May

breakfast: oatmeal
morning snack: Digestives and Atom's Coco cookies from the DR
lunch: peanut butter on crackers
dinner: tofu curry over jasmine rice

We sailed Ginger to New Bight and back with James and Mei on board. James enjoyed seeing the junk rig in action, and this was Mei's first sail on any junk-rigged vessel, though they evolved in her country. She calls Ginger a sampan, the Chinese equivalent of a working dinghy that accompanies a junk, pointing out that a real junk has three masts. We have adopted this term for Ginger, too.

The Bahamas hold a few food treats not available in the U.S. New Zealand canned butter is one; we open a can, transfer the butter into glass jars, and the butter keeps for up to a month. The butter tastes great and is quite inexpensive ($2.50 for a 1-pound can). The Bahamas also imports Digestive cookies from England. These delicious round cookies are a cousin of the graham cracker but are much tastier.

16 May

breakfast: cold oats
lunch: leftover tofu curry
dinner: canned pigeon peas and curry rice with a can of "pimientos," which turned out to be whole roasted red bell peppers (a steal for $2.10 a can)

We enjoyed a lazy morning while I finished The Boat Who Wouldn't Float by Farley Mowat, borrowed from James. The book is hilarious and I recommend it even to people who aren't particularly enchanted with boats. Meanwhile, Chris did laundry on deck. We then sailed to Fernandez Cay to observe the Bridled Tern colony there and then anchored nearby outside Smith Bay. I prepared dinner aboard North Star after we enjoyed Kay's coconut bread prepared English-muffin style in a skillet as an appetizer.

17 May

breakfast: cold oats
lunch: peanut butter on crackers
dinner: leftover pigeon peas and rice

Our new breakfast of cold oats has spared us from eating hot gruel every morning for the rest of the hot summer - hot oatmeal, grits, rice... all of these I find disgusting now. James of Atom gave us the idea. Apparently this technique of preparing oatmeal was the sole benefit (excepting money) of the one and only charter trip James has ever attempted aboard Atom. Many years ago in Nassau he accepted a two-week honeymoon charter from a German couple. The bride threw the first morning's breakfast of hot oatmeal overboard, hurling insults at James and shouting: "Look at me! I am not a baby! I have teeth! I can chew the oats!" She then explained to James how to prepare oats properly: simply add milk and allow the oatmeal to soak five to ten minutes. Cold oats make a brilliant ship's breakfast, as cooking is unnecessary, and oats are cheap even in the Bahamas.

18 May

breakfast: cold oats
lunch: hummus (from a mix: add water), cheddar cheese, crackers
afternoon snack: popcorn with butter and nutritional yeast
dinner: Chris's hot fresh English muffins with butter and honey

We spent the morning sailing to Old Bight, which with present winds would be a much more comfortable anchorage. Our afternoon swim revealed a glorious, tiny pair of coral heads (each about 4 feet across) inhabited by a spotted moray eel, many reef squirrelfish, a four-eye butterflyfish the size of a quarter, eight small lobsters and more. After bathing, Chris made a big batch of bread dough, rolled it out an inch thick, cut it into wedges, and cooked it in a lightly oiled skillet with a layer of cornmeal to prevent sticking. Voila, split-em-with-a-fork English muffins. Mike and Kathy of Cgull Seeker gave us the idea in Georgetown.

19 May

breakfast: cold oats
lunch: English muffins with leftover hummus
dinner: pasta with spinach red sauce, topped with toasted pine nuts

This morning I adventured ashore with John and Kay while Chris loafed and read Tristan Jones's Saga of a Wayward Sailor. In the afternoon Chris and I rowed ashore and hiked into the town of Old Bight to call both sets of parents.

After five and a half months of full-time cruising I can say with confidence that all the cruisers who write in books and magazine articles that you won't eat anything on the boat you didn't already eat on land are wrong. Our list is long: cabbage - a boat superfood!, canned vegetables (though I think canned spinach is going too far), popcorn (I had no idea it was so easy and fast to make popcorn in a pot), canned fruit - which is for weeks at a time the only fruit we eat, and finally Tang. After an inspection of Tang's ingredients, I refused to buy it when I was provisioning for this trip in Florida. Now I have happily swallowed Tang's tagline, "Nutrition in disguise."

20 May

breakfast: cold oats
morning snack: Digestives
lunch: English muffins with peanut butter and a can of pears
dinner: "Lucky Pot" aboard North Star at Mei's suggestion - Chinese noodles, tofu curry with jasmine rice, cooked carrots, cocoa-prune cake

And some people complain about going to work on Monday morning... I awoke at 0550 as usual to listen to the weather forecast on our single sideband receiver. A cold front has been heading our way but this morning's forecast predicted S-SE winds for us: no prefrontal shift to the west, which would certainly require us to seek another anchorage. Good, I thought, and enjoyed my coffee and breakfast while Chris slept. When he awoke at 0720 I noted that the wind was now SW, but very light though the sky was heavy with clouds. At 0735 John shouted to us from North Star that they were "getting the hell out of here." The wind had shifted rapidly to the W and increased. Land, to our east, was now a lee shore. Chris leapt out of bed and we were sailing in five minutes.

We saw Atom sailing in the distance to the north. Impressed with James's keen sense for subtle changes in the weather, we followed. The squall hit us at 0930, with gusty winds, whitecaps, and dense rain. We were already reefed and sailed close-hauled away from land. After 25 minutes the wind eased and disappeared, and we were becalmed until 1500. Then the wind picked up from the NE, in defiance of the noon weather forecast, and we sailed to tiny Smith Bay, passing through the narrow entrance under yuloh power. We anchored within jumping distance of Atom, and North Star did the same on the other side of Atom.

At dinner, a "Lucky Pot" (Mei's phrase, which we have adopted) aboard North Star, we learned that James and Mei sailed Atom into tiny Smith Bay just after the squall. North Star, faster than Ginger, waited out the squall in an uncomfortable but safe anchorage halfway between Old Bight and Smith Bay. If not picturesque, Smith Bay is well-protected and we all enjoyed the flat water.

21 May

breakfast: cold oats
morning snack: Mei's cocoa prune cake
lunch: leftover tofu curry and jasmine rice
dinner: cheese and crackers, English muffins with cheese and salsa, Kay's cookies - ginger-marmalade and chocolate chunk, aboard North Star

After another morning squall and anchoring antics directed skillfully by James, we enjoyed a quiet boat-work day in Smith Bay. Chris repaired a solar panel and did some rigging work, while I hung out our wet clothes, lashed a "cockscombing" around the boom gallows to induce some friction between it and the unruly sail bundle, and cleaned out the cockpit foot well.

22 May

breakfast: sunshine potatoes
lunch: peanut butter and apricot jam on Digestives
dinner: Romaine lettuce with tahini-soy spread on crackers

Another rainy morning, this one. Chris made coffee and breakfast. Sunshine potatoes are thin, round slices of potato, six arranged around a central slice, with cheese chunks in the gaps, all fried in oil until the cheese becomes crunchy and holds the "sun" together. More boat work today: rainwater laundry for me, and more rigging work for Chris. The veggie car came again today, hence the lettuce for dinner. Chris baked English muffins in the evening while I read The Riddle of the Sands by Erskine Childers aloud.

23 May

For some reason I did not record anything about this day.

24 May

breakfast: English muffins with apricot jelly
morning snack: apples, a rare treat at 50 cents each
lunch: lettuce with cheese-topped hot English muffins and Cat Island sauce over everything
dinner: lentils with quinoa and lime-curry vinaigrette

The weather is still unsettled. I washed more laundry while Chris read and made lunch. Yesterday I bought two Kalik bottles full of the Cat Island sauce, a tasty mild sauce made from local tomatoes. Apparently this is the only way to buy Cat Island tomatoes.

25 May

breakfast: cold oats
lunch: peanut butter and jelly on English muffins
dinner: leftover lentil-quinoa curry, carrots, and Mei's cocoa-oatmeal cookies aboard North Star

We said a sad goodbye to John and Kay over dinner, as we planned to take advantage of steady NE wind to leave for Georgetown tonight. John and Kay had planned to leave too, for the states, but an integral part of their steering system broke, leaving them stuck in Smith Bay until the repair could be made. We also bade farewell to our newer friends James and Mei.

26 May

breakfast: bananas
lunch: cheese and crackers, cabbage salad
dinner: mashed potatoes

We left Smith Bay at 0400 and arrived at the north entrance to Elizabeth Harbour at 0940: 52 nm and a record average 5.7 knot sail! Eight-foot waves followed us on our quarter. We had to hand-steer, but, exhilarated by surfing up to 8 kn down these waves, we didn't mind. We enjoyed the ultimate comfort food for dinner, prepared quickly in the pressure cooker; it was gray and rainy all afternoon and we were snug in a flat-calm anchorage in one of the holes on Stocking Island.

27 May

breakfast: bananas
lunch: cheesy potato pancakes
dinner: rice stick with cabbage and canned mushrooms

Another rainy day today, spent reading. I finished The Riddle of the Sands and Chris read The Voyage of Sabra in its entirety.

28 May

breakfast: cold oats
lunch: pasta with Cat Island sauce
dinner: quinoa with canned beets

Another rainy day today, which I spent using many gallons of rainwater for cleaning and Chris spent repairing two bent keep-battens from the romping sail from Cat Island. We sailed across the harbour to Georgetown, where Chris retrieved our mail and paid a visit to our neighbor, Lady Marion, a Freedom cat-ketch.

29 May

breakfast: cold oats for Chris, Tiger's Milk bar for Kim
morning snack: banana pudding-cake
lunch: pasta with red sauce
dinner: peas and rice

I did two loads of laundry ashore, early, and then we took John and Russ of Lady Marion for a jolly (pleasure sail) in the harbour. We shared banana pudding-cake, which I make in a small Bundt-pan that fits inside the pressure cooker, with John and Russ while sailing. In the afternoon Chris and I bought provisions ashore and stowed everything.

Peas and rice is a constant side dish in Bahamian restaurants. "Peas" are pigeon peas, small brown beans. The rice is usually yellow; we use curry powder to make it so. I used canned pigeon peas tonight.

30 May

breakfast: Tiger's Milk bar, cold oats
lunch: cheese and crackers, a can of creamed corn (bought yesterday at 50 cents a can)
dinner: soba buckwheat noodles with cabbage

We expected Will Mackin and his three assistants from UNC today on the 1330 American Eagle flight. Will has studied the Audubon's Shearwater at a breeding colony near Warderick Wells for three years as his dissertation research, and we had agreed to transport Will and his assistants from Georgetown to Warderick Wells. Inauspiciously, at 1330 a great deluge of rain began, accompanied with winds up to 37 knots, and continued for three hours. Will and co. did not arrive, and we admit we were glad; everyone and all their gear would have gotten irrevocably wet (never mind, we took care of all that the night they did arrive!). We learned later that their flight reached Georgetown but instead of landing in the thunderstorm flew back to Florida.

31 May

breakfast: pancakes aboard Lady Marion
lunch: leftover tofu curry
dinner: beans and rice from a package

Will, Burke, Tiff, and Jason arrived around 1430, and we set sail for Channel Cay.

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In March I inquired about seabird research at Exuma Park. Evelyn told me Will Mackin, a PhD candidate at UNC-Chapel Hill, would arrive for several weeks of work on Audubon's Shearwaters in late May. Evelyn put me in touch with Will, I offered my help, and Will accepted. Later, we agreed to transport Will and his three undergraduate assistants from Georgetown to Warderick Wells and back.

Around 1430, 31 May, Will called us on the radio and Chris rowed in to pick everybody up. Soon, Will, Burke, Tiff, and Jason, and enough luggage to fill the starboard pilot berth and cover the entire cabin sole two bags deep were on board. We decided to sail to Channel Cay, west of the north entrance to Elizabeth Harbour, to check out a known Audubon's Shearwater colony there. Chris stayed on board as the holding was poor, while we went ashore in our dinghy, Root. I left poor Root tied up on a tiny beach, below the high tide line. We walked around the island and after dark shearwaters began to arrive. We found many active burrows, some with chicks, and banded 10 birds; from a research point of view the night was a success. At 0100 we returned to Root. I arrived first, and found the dinghy full to the gunwhales with water, with waves breaking relentlessly over the transom. I immediately began bailing, of course in vain, and was soon soaked from head to toe. The oars were gone, dooming us to spend the night on Channel Cay. Fortunately, Will had as an afterthought brought along a tarp. We needed it for a deluge of rain that lasted three hours and was accompanied by lightning and high winds. Cowering under the tarp, freezing cold, worried Root would be holed on the rocks and that Ginger would drag, and feeling ashamed for my loss of the oars, I wished fervently that I had never even heard of Will Mackin.

1-3 June - sailing from Georgetown to Warderick Wells

Eventually the tide fell, as it always does, and Burke and Jason bailed Root out. We carried her above the high tide line and waited for daylight, which did not reveal our oars. After daylight Jason swam Root to Ginger, with me as a passenger, and Chris donned a wetsuit and swam out to collect Will, Burke, Tiff, and our stuff in Root. All aboard again, we all rinsed off, donned dry clothes, drank hot coffee, and sailed for Georgetown. In full knowledge that Bahamians don't row (and indeed find much entertainment in watching us do so), Chris and Burke nevertheless tried to obtain oars in Georgetown, and returned with several two-by-fours instead. We gave up and in the late afternoon sailed for Warderick Wells.

Chris and I had expected the trip north from Georgetown, a downwind sail in prevailing winds, to be fast and easy. However, we had not accounted for Bad-luck Will. We beat to windward, and were even obliged to tack, the whole way there, all 70nm. Worse, the wind was so light during our first night out that though we were 4 miles from land, in Exuma Sound, mosquitoes descended upon us. Fortunately for Will I had already started to like him, and we sailed on instead of dumping him overboard. This trip, which should have been an overnight sail with a midday arrival, instead took two nights and a day. Amazingly, no one (except perhaps me) complained. Burke, Jason, and Tiff displayed an impressive ability to sleep anywhere, anytime, at length. We saw lots of Audubon's Shearwaters and other seabirds, and despite crowded conditions we were all pretty happy.

3-17 June - Warderick Wells  

We arrived at Warderick Wells and put Ginger on a mooring. Blue gave us an old pair of abandoned oars and transported everyone and all the gear to nearby Long Cay in the skiff Soggy Bottom. Our trial of survival for two weeks on an inhospitable rock began. Long Cay (a.k.a. The Rock, or just Hellhole) does not seem all that long until you try to walk on it. The cay is a sharp, pointy rock; every step must be taken with care. Just enough vegetation grows in the middle of it to give a large population of mosquitoes a place to hide during the daytime. Natural sinkholes in the limestone hold rainwater and thus provide breeding places for these beasts. The mosquitoes were not as bad as in Flamingo in August, so I did not use DEET; everyone else bathed in it. In addition to the mosquitoes, the cay was home to scorpions and, much worse, hideous orange biting centipedes up to a foot long. No one was actually bitten, but there were a few close calls and Burke smashed a centipede to bits with a rock, right next to his cot. Besides the exsanguinations by mosquitoes, we each suffered additional bloodshed daily from at least one body part: either the rock got us or the birds did. Mostly the birds bit our fingers, but Tiff and I particularly suffered as the AUSH is an avid nipple biter.

AUSHs began to arrive on the cay after dark around 2045. We usually began working soon thereafter and worked until some time between 0230 and 0530, when the birds departed. We slept in the wee hours of the morning and as late as possible. Sleeping places included two cots and two hammocks, protected by mosquito nets and tarps, and two smooth sections of rock at Kitchen Rock, down by the water. Our campsite was at the edge of the coppice. We used it mostly for sleeping and preferred Kitchen Rock for hanging out.

The AUSHs made up for the miseries of the Rock. The adults make weird vocalizations (ha-ha-ha-ha, ha-hah-ha-ha...) throughout the night. Indeed, their cries were my first introduction to AUSHs, when we heard them at Allen's Cay in January. Will's work focuses on these vocalizations; this trip he performed playback experiments to investigate neighbor recognition. AUSH pairs return year after year to use the same nesting burrow, which is typically a pit in the limestone or a small cave with shelter from a rock ledge. (In other parts of their range, AUSHs dig their own burrows.) The burrow floor is usually a dark, rich soil with a distinctive musty shearwater odor. The chicks are fluffy and fat and very cute with their already-fierce petrel beaks. Our visit to Long Cay occurred late in the AUSH breeding season; several chicks had almost-grown wing feathers and some white breast feathers. The last AUSH we handled on Long Cay was also the heaviest Will has ever measured there, a 277-gram bruiser I grabbed out of its burrow at 0520 on the last day.

Long Cay is the largest AUSH colony known in the Bahamas; however many of the known colonies have not been censused, and additional colonies probably exist. Will estimates that more than 1000 pairs breed on Long Cay. AUSHs are pan-tropical, breeding throughout the Caribbean and on islands in the Indian and Pacific oceans. A 1984 estimate suggests that 5000 pairs breed in the Caribbean.

The next-to-last day of our sojourn on Long Cay provided further evidence for why the cay is known as Hellhole to those who have lived there: the air temperature in the shade was 96 F. In the sun, it was 107 F, and on the rock surface it was 122 F. Burke told Will that if it got any hotter Will was going to have to bash his head in with (what else) a rock. Shortly after Burke's pronouncement, Will and I hatched a plan to pull an all-nighter and leave the Rock a day early. Chris approved our plan and agreed to transport us to Staniel Cay - and desperately needed cold beer - by nightfall. We finished our series of census plots, measured 45 chicks, banded about 60 birds, and painted 85 adults like Easter eggs (in hopes that their post-breeding foraging area will be determined): three nights' worth of work in one night by a desperate crew.

17-18 June - Staniel Cay to Little Farmers  

We left Long Cay triumphant and whole, if battered. The memory of Long Cay made Ginger seem positively luxurious, and we sailed and motored to Staniel Cay in good spirits. At Staniel, we polished off Club Thunderball's last Kalik and feasted on pizza, conch, and a cheeseburger for Burke (who has not eaten a mammal for 6 years). Everyone enjoyed sleeping in the dark and Chris and I are delighted to be back together. We sailed slowly to Little Farmers Cay the next day and again consumed much Kalik with Bahamians, this time at Ocean Cabin.

9-20 June - Pimlico Cays  

The following morning we waited at anchor as a tropical wave passed over us, bringing lots of gusty rain squalls. That past, we sailed to the Pimlico Cays and anchored near a likely-looking one in the East Pimlico Cays group. We five bird people went ashore just before dark, while Chris remained on Ginger. This cay made Long Cay look like a hotel. The limestone was unremittingly sharp, the sides of the cay steep, and the vegetation largely composed of cactus lying about everywhere (fortunately the cactus spines were not very sharp, just annoying, as I kept falling into cactus beds). We did not hear a single shearwater and returned to Ginger by 2200 for moonlit swimming.

20-24 June - Barraterre  

Chris and I "slept" on deck (the wind was blowing hard and we were freezing despite our fleece blankets) and heard AUSHs calling from the next cay over, so we sailed there in the morning. Indeed, we found two large chicks, as well-developed as the biggest ones on Long Cay when we left, and banded them. A Bahamian named Slim, who is the caretaker of a nearby cay and was recommended to us by the guys at Little Farmers, transported us in his skiff to two more islands, on one of which we found two more large AUSH chicks. That accomplished, we sailed south again. We arrived in Barraterre in time for - you guessed - dinner and Kalik at the Fisherman's Inn, whose proprietor, Norman, agreed to take everybody to the airport the next morning.

All my frustration with Bad-luck Will now replaced by fondness, I cried as our four friends drove away in Norman's SUV. Chris and I returned to Ginger, which now seemed empty and capacious, and began to reclaim our home. This adventure was well worth the wait, and I'm grateful to Will for introducing me to the fascinating Audubon's Shearwater.

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25 June - 1 July - Georgetown

Another stay in Georgetown...this time trying to decide what we would do with ourselves as hurricane season approaches. We provisioned, we made more friends (including a cruising author of note, Bruce van Sant, from whom we still have much to learn, and Michael and Layne on Miki G, who invited us to dinner after a chat on the radio and who made delightful neighbors for several days), and we waited for weather.

Ideally we want to spend August and maybe September at Crooked and Acklins (lots of hurricane holes) so we needed to get south and east (into the prevailing winds). We finally decided to head for the Jumentos (south of Great Exuma). Kim would be able to make a survey of the islands for nesting seabirds, and we would get to experience a more remote area. We waited for the right wind and sea conditions, with a good forecast, and then set out early for Hog Cay Cut. It was a perfect sailing day, but we didn't get very far before we realized that the winds were more favorable for going east than south. That seemed to put San Salvador within reach so...we went for it.

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1 July - 29 July - San Salvador

The sail from Georgetown to Cape Santa Maria (the north tip of Long Island) was marvelous. We clipped along on a reach at more than 5 knots in relatively calm seas. According to the cruising gospel from Bruce Van Sant (our charming and hospitable, celebrity anchorage mate in Georgetown) we should have tucked in to the anchorage there for the night (NEVER SKIP A STEP, TAKE SMALL CHUNKS, AND ANCHOR IN TIME FOR A SUNDOWN GIN AND TONIC) but we really wanted to get to San Salvador. Boy did we suffer. The rest of the trip (18 out of 30 hours) to San Salvador was AWFUL. We were caught up in a system of powerful thunderstorms that tended to provide either 25-30 knot winds or dead calm in large confused seas. We motored a total of 9 hours and we made Graham's Harbor early in the afternoon. We found ourselves in a stunning anchorage, entirely devoid of other cruising boats!

We enjoyed some luxuries thanks to the Gerace Research Center, most notably a good internet connection, extra water for doing laundry, and a place for visitors to stay -- we were able to tempt Larry Riopelle into joining us for a week. The director, Vince Voegeli, and his family are delightful and have been very kind to us. Unfortunately, circumstances prevented us from taking them on a daysail in Ginger. That's just one more reason to go back.

Our visits to the cays were very rewarding and provided an opportunity for us to sail Ginger and practice our seamanship. Green Cay was a particular challenge. The side that is protected from the wind is all rock and coral before dropping off into Atlantic Ocean depths. To make matters worse, there is no beach on Green Cay to land the dinghy on. It is all sharp weathered limestone wall and rubble. We ended up hooking ourselves to the rock for a day and a night, and found a cave (grotto) in the wall of the cay that was large enough and provided enough protection to haul the dinghy ashore without too much damage (to us or the dinghy). Our stay was just long enough to explore and to allow Kim to check the cay for whatever Audubon's Shearwaters might be finishing up the breeding season there. Green Cay is also home to the San Salvador rock iguana (for more iguana info check Bill Hayes' site). Some of them are quite bold and if you sit in one place they will shuffle over to you. They are probably accustomed to tourists who come bearing lettuce and other goodies, but we offered them only our admiration. They were more than willing just to sit and stare back at us as long as we sat there.

From Green Cay we sailed for White Cay at the north tip of the harbor. We knew that there were reefs around the cay but that the Research Center's skiff regularly took visitors to the little beach on the protected side. We had a delightful sail across the harbor and then picked our way carefully through the reef toward the cay. We hoped for a sandy area inside the reef near the cay to anchor in, but as we got closer we could see that no such haven awaited. Shallow coral surrounded us, and the Atlantic swell made maneuvering more difficult and unreliable. We tacked Ginger around between heads and picked our way back out, disappointed. We decided to settle for anchoring in the lee of Gaulin Cay.

Gaulin and Catto Cays were much less stressful to visit. Our anchor set nicely in sand, and protective reefs made for smooth water for rowing to Catto. Gaulin is low and flat and covered with low, tangled growth that harbored hundreds of breeding Brown Noddies and Sooty Terns. Catto is high with white cliffs, some of which were crowded with loafing Brown Boobies. The terns and noddies were breeding on Catto as well. The snorkeling around and between the cays was spectacular.

During Larry's visit I (Chris) had the opportunity to test some of our safety equipment and dinghy in extreme conditions. We all wanted to get out to Manhead Cay, which is outside Graham's Harbor. The only ways for us to get there were for all of us to swim the short distance from shore, or for me (Chris) to row Root through a narrow cut between Northeast Point and Cut Cay and then pick up Kim and Larry at the beach. After checking the cut from shore, we opted for the latter and although it was a bit hairy (one large breaking wave over the bow of the dinghy) I got through just fine. I ferried the party out to the cay and we had a wonderful day. Manhead is really a magnificent cay and we enjoyed seeing more San Salvador Rock Iguanas.

When it came time to go home my confidence was high. I was certain it would be easier to go through the cut WITH the waves and current than it had been coming out against them. I rowed Kim and Larry back to the beach on the mainland and, after stripping the dinghy to her bare essentials and stowing those as well as I could, I headed for the cut. As I neared the cut I noticed that the waves were higher and the smooth path down the middle of the cut that I had taken in the morning was filled with foam on every wave. I rowed closer to the mouth of the cut and realized that the waves and current were going to sweep me through. The time for decision had passed. I set myself as well as I could, rode one breaking wave nearly through, and paddled like mad to escape the next. I thought I might make it, but the next breaker sucked me back, then broke heavily on Root's stern. We accelerated out of control and slewed to port. As Root yawed sideways her chine dug in and she rolled over instantly.

My inflatable life vest inflated with a hiss, I got myself out from under Root (what a strange place to be), and I flipped her over - all in a matter of seconds. Recovery was a bit tedious. My sunglasses and a pair of oarlocks were lost and I had to wade/swim back into the breaking cut to retrieve our anchor, but things went as well as could be expected. I retrieved our spare pair of oarlocks from one of Root's storage/buoyancy compartments and rowed around to the harbor-side beach where Kim and Larry were waiting (Kim: "what took you so long?").

It was a good learning experience, but one I wouldn't care to repeat. I know some things I would do differently at various stages prior to the roll-over: First, when I noticed that the cut was breaking all the way across, I could still have turned back, and I should have. Second, when I was lined up in the cut with the breaker bearing down I shouldn't have tried to outrun it. Instead I should have planted my oars, stopped the dinghy, and tried to keep her stern-to the breaker. Swamping is preferable to rolling.

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30 July - 7 August - San Salvador

We got some long awaited calm weather and took the opportunity to anchor in the extreme north end of Graham's Harbor within easy rowing distance of White Cay for a few days. Kim surveyed the nesting birds there: many Brown Boobies, a group of Magnificient Frigate Birds, a pair of Masked Boobies... and we snorkeled the dramatically beautiful reefs that fill the upper part of the harbor. I (Chris) saw my first shark, and when it saw me it turned tail and fled.

As the glassy calm continued we moved down to a reef-ringed spot of sand north of Cato Cay and we followed the same program for a couple of days. Our time in San Salvador was starting to stretch on and we began to worry about our plans to see Crooked and Acklins Islands in time for an early fall return to Florida. Eventually we got a forcast for more wind and decided to move down to Cockburn Town to do some pre-passage shopping.

Cockburn Town was pleasant, although swell and rocky beaches made landing the dinghy difficult. We took care of our business and then got chased back up into Graham's Harbor by some unseasonal westerlies. The hoped for weather window didn't develop. We waited out the westerlies and let things calm down again before we headed back to the open anchorage in Cocburn Town again. This time we found a small sailboat in the anchorage. It was nice to see another cruiser after the five weeks of relative solitude and we enjoyed some time with the crew of Lazy River.

While we were at Cockburn town we saw our first octopus (an Atlantic Pygmy). I had been looking for a Flame Helmet Conch shell for Kimberly. There were many live Flame Helmets around so my hopes were high. Eventually I found a shell that didn't have the tell-tale eyes protruding from the tip. When I picked it up and looked inside I was surprised to see that something was looking at me from deep inside the shell. With a little study I was able to make out the little sucker rings on the forelegs which were folded tightly back into the shell. I shouted to Kimberly that I had an octupus to show her and started swimming it over to the boat. When I lifted it out of the water to show her the little fellow came pouring out of the shell with an amazing fluid motion. I submerged it and it withdrew into the shell again. We repeated the trick a couple of times (to the chagrin of the octupus no doubt) and then I went and put it back as I found it. After I put it down I watched for a little while and was surprised when the shell started to shuffle off across the bottom and then flipped upside down. I thought I would be helpful and turned it rightside up again (the octupus glared at me as I did this). Then I could see the legs around the edge of the shell pushing down very hard as it tried to turn the shell upside down again. Eventually I "helped" it back over and left it alone. I never did find an empty Flame Helmet.

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