Crossing the Gulf Stream

1/2/2014

Laundry day

Receipt for provisions

In the words of Chris Parker it was, "a benign day" on the Gulf Stream.  Chris Parker is a guy who makes a living forecasting weather on the single side band radio specifically for cruisers in Florida and the Caribbean.  You can be a subscriber for $250, which allows you to call in during his show for customized advice, or you can do as many cruisers do (like us) and listen in for free.  There always seems to be someone asking your question.  Most cruisers swear by him, tossing his name around as if he were a close personal friend.  Some say he's too conservative.  Conservative?  Now that's the guy I want to be taking my weather advise from.  Yeah, Chris and I, we're pretty tight.  We have coffee together every morning at 6:30.

I don't think I slept but an hour Sunday night, knowing the alarm was going to go off at 2am.  I waited until I heard Scott plunging the coffee press before I dragged myself out of bed.  We pulled the anchor in the dark and were on our way by 3am, heading for the Lake Worth inlet, the Gulf Stream, and ultimately, the Bahamas.   It was lovely, really, being on the water that early in the morning.   I tried to enjoy it as much as I could, but I was pretty nervous.  I could tell Scott was a bit anxious as well (there was some lip biting going on, a tell-tale sign). The forecast was good.  We'd done the research.  We'd waited for "the window".  He'd done the math; calculating set and drift to accommodate for Gulf Stream current.  Our route was plugged into the GPS. Kiawah was spruced up and battened down.  We had every base covered.  But I was still nervous.  I've spent some time on the ocean (heck, I grew up on Cape Cod), but I've never been in a situation where I couldn't see land (not including being stuck in pea-soup fog off Cutler, Maine).  This crossing was new territory for me; 56 nautical miles across to Memory Rock (the edge of Little Bahama bank, where 2000+ foot depths rise abruptly to 12 feet), another 26nm to Mangrove Cay (the first tiny island that offers any kind of weather protection and anchoring opportunity), and 22nm to Great Sail Cay, our destination.  At a predicted cruising speed of 6 knots, we were looking at an 18 hour day.  5 hours of which would be without a view of anything.... solid.

We had good company, though.  We'd made plans the previous day to depart about an hour behind a catamaran named Izzy Girl, and a boat named Salt Air was pulling anchor the same time we were.  We could hear the two captains talking casually back and forth on the VHF radio.  Dave, on Izzy Girl, was a seasoned Caribbean cruiser and made sure to check in with us whenever there was any extended length of silence.  "Kiawah, Kiawah, Kiawah - Izzy Girl on 16. How's my favorite sailing family doing?"  It was great knowing we weren't alone out there.  Great to know that one hour ahead of us, the seas were calm and friendly. 

The helm

The girls were jostled from their slumber up in the v-berth by waves as we bucked the tide leaving the inlet.  They staggered bleary-eyed to the cock pit, one after the other, just in time to watch the lights of West Palm fade in the distance, allowing the stars to shine once again.  We'd been missing the stars.  Only darkness lay in front of us, punctuated by the faint glow of running lights from Izzy Girl and Salt Air, several miles ahead.  I was thankful to have something to focus on.  The girls curled up on the benches in the cockpit with their sleeping bags and stuffed animals and went back to sleep.  I envied how relaxed they could be.  How trusting.  I longed for sunrise. 

Goodbye West Palm!

Wren and Froggy

Back to sleep

At 6:30, my buddy, Chris, came on the SSB with one final weather report for the day...  I braced myself, prepared to demand we turn back with any mention of gale winds, squalls, or high seas. Then I heard it...  "light wind, seas 2-3 feet, no squalls... Looks like it's going to be a benign day on the Gulf Stream".  Benign?  Benign!  Oh, glorious benign day!!   I rejoiced and breathed a sigh of relief (and I dare say, Scott's lip chewing subsided).  I heated up two cups of cold coffee and we watched the sun come up on the most beautiful benign day I've ever seen (honestly, Scott would have been happier with more wind). 

Sunrise on the Gulf Stream

 In no time, the Mahi-Mahi jigs were running behind the boat (with quite a favorable outcome), and we were motor-sailing across the rich indigo waters of the Gulf Stream, hitting every way point right on time.  The hours flew by.  And honestly?  I hardly even noticed when we lost sight of land. Maybe I'll be able to get used to this whole sailing thing after all. 

Fish on!

Mahi on a "whistler" feather lure

Suppah!

The love boat

Great book

Dolphin playing in the bow wake

Uno!

Wren making a rope ladder

Autopilot

Raising the mainsail