Crossing the Gulf Stream

Monday morning and we're still in Florida. Our friends on Oasis are ribbing me, saying that we didn't go to the Bahamas because I overslept. Truth be told, I did oversleep but that's really not why we didn't leave. We had made plans to get up at midnight, assess the weather, and decide if we could go. When I finally awoke at 1:30 am, it was flat calm, not a breath of wind. A few boats were already gone and a few others were making their way out. But Oasis was back fast asleep unable to get a hold of us at midnight. We had to know if they wanted to go so we upped anchor and idled over to Oasis at 2 am. When Martin hopped up on deck, it was pretty obvious that they were not in a hurry to go anywhere tonight. So we re-anchored and agonized for the next few days whether we missed the last window and if we should have gone ahead; all to no good end. Some boats did leave, most of who were impatient after waiting for three weeks for weather. Some boats ended up coming back as the seas hadn't had a chance to calm down. So in retrospect it was probably a good decision to wait.

We left Lake Worth the following morning, once again trudging our way south down the Intracoastal waterway. This section of the waterway is crossed by many bridges, many with restricted opening schedules. So we time our runs in accordance with the bridge opening schedules. Nevertheless, we were looking forward to spending a few days in Ft. Lauderdale and thus resigned ourselves to the stop and go pace.

What started out as a misunderstanding, turned out to be a rather good thing. As we made our way south on Tuesday, we came upon what we thought was simply the next opening bridge and slowed our speed accordingly. Our traveling companions on Oasis, slightly ahead of us, noticed we had slowed and circled around. Well, the bridge we slowed down for was a bridge on AIA not the Intracoastal, an opening over Hillsboro Inlet at Pompano Beach to the ocean. As Oasis circled back, the bridge was just about to open and so in a split second we made a decision to head outside and go directly to Miami. Not known as an all weather inlet, we were a little leery of the inlet, made even more so by warning signs suggesting that dangerous conditions could exist and local knowledge is necessary. But the weather was calm and depths remained fair until not far out of the inlet, the water quickly deepened. With it brought the translucent colors and clarity assuring us that the Gulf Stream was not far away.

Compared with the confines of the waterway, the openness of the Atlantic was a breath of fresh air. We set the autopilot and put out our fishing line. I don't suppose there is any point in talking about the one that got away, but it was at least good to know that the lure was attractive to something. From the ocean, we witnessed the increasing urbanization of the shoreline as we approached Ft. Lauderdale and continuing with ever increasing volume as we made our way to Miami. The offshore route allowed us to happily miss the next 17 bridges that would have had to open for us.

Once inside Miami harbor, we joined the rather large fleet assembled here waiting for a crossing window. From the last 1,000 miles, we knew many of the owners by name and still more by boat name. We got the anchor down just in time as the first of many rain squalls came over us from offshore. This rain would continue for the next several days, significantly dampening our stay in Miami. We thought we would have a few days to visit the popular tourist areas, but the next weather window began to take shape on Thursday night. So it was quickly down to business, gathering last minute stores, fuel and water.

As our window approached, the VHF airwaves were once again buzzing with weather information and crossing plans. This scene was starting to become all too familiar. Our plan was to leave Friday at midday, cross onto the banks after sunset and go all night straight through to Chub Cay in the Berry Islands. In this way, we hoped to leave in daylight, cross over the safe part of the banks at night and arrive at the tricky Northwest Channel passage early morning and Chub Cay later that day. As Friday morning broke, the weather picture looked a bit more uncertain and many boats that had declared their intentions to go began hedging. It had remained a bit windy out the East all night, not giving the seas time to settle much. But by 7 am, reports from the first boats out looked promising. Martin and I looked at each other and said, "Let's go."

We made the long trek down Government Cut, past the fleet of cruise ships and out into the ocean. As expected, the waves were still a bit rough, almost on the nose. As we progressed east, conditions were not improving much even though the wind was down. Joyce and I kept expecting at any moment to hear our friends wanting to turn back. But even as we could feel the first strong tugs of the Gulf Stream, it became apparent that we were on our way to the Bahamas. And to our relief, conditions did improve. We approached the Great Bahama Banks (the banks) shortly before dusk, rounding the point off the northern tip of Bimini (North Rock) just as it was getting dark. Despite the shortage of sunlight, we were able to see what we had came for; crystal clear water over a white sand bottom. But nightfall soon overtook us, giving way to ever lighter winds and a clear cloudless sky. With the moon going down early, the stars were so clear and bright, with even some shooting stars. The swell that had been with us in the ocean was gone and only a light chop lapped at the hull. We went on this way in company with 5 or 6 other boats until 1:00 am at which time we decided to anchor rather then thread the Northwest Channel at night. Thus we pulled about a mile off the travel path, coasted to a stop and dropped anchor; no land in sight! In the quiet calm of the night, we had little to worry us except for the possibility of being run down by a fellow cruiser.

We awoke at dawn, marveling at the idea of being anchored in the middle of nowhere in water so blue and clear it looked like pool water. But we both were a bit apprehensive about clearing customs with the cats on board. We thought that this may be the shortest trip ever to the Bahamas if customs gave us a hassle over Joyce's babies.

We made Chub Cay just before noon, finished off our paperwork and cleared in without problems. Thus we had arrived in the Bahamas! The deal at the Chub Cay Club is that you can pull up the fuel dock to clear customs for $25 or pull into a slip for $1 per foot and clear customs, pretty much a no brainier. But water is metered at 50 cents per gallon and electricity equally expensive so even though we were snugly tied up, we couldn't afford to hose the salt off the boat. Sure hope it rains soon.

Soon after lunch, Joyce got what she wanted and I got what I wanted; Joyce took a long walk on the nice sandy beach and I donned the snorkel gear to go find my fishy friends.

The next day, we decided to find somewhat cheaper place to stay until we go over to Nassau. So we made our way out of the protected harbor into a nasty 15-20 knot headwind. Gotta say this was one of the ugliest 10 miles we've ever done. Green water was constantly coming over the bow and at times right over the dodger drenching us through and through. At one point, we took a wave over the bow that continued on over the coach-roof pouring about a gallon of water down the hatch. In addition, one of our water containers opened down below adding about another gallon of water to the mess below. Poor Atlas was hanging on for dear life, sitting right in the puddle of water!

We soon gained the protection of one of the islands and ran down to a protected if somewhat bouncy anchorage at Frazer's Hog Cay. Looks like we'll be here until we get some better weather to cross the 35 miles to Nassau. But we are in no hurry. We are right where we want to be!