The Good, The Bad, and The Algae

We've landed!

If you've been watching us on the Spot, it's probably similar to watching a very (very) slow game of pin-ball as we bounce around from island to island.  A good friend emailed me and said, "What... did you lose something?".  Our decisions to move about have been based somewhat on whim, somewhat on need for supplies, but mostly on weather.  Since our arrival, we've been playing hide and seek with the wind.  The wind, of course, always wins this game.  But we have been pretty successful finding new (and very beautiful!) hiding places.  It seems that even tiny islands, with nothing but mangroves and sand rimmed shores, offer great protection when you're in the lee.  Several nights we set two anchors just to be safe.  And, it has been windy!  What you folks have seen back home in snow and ice, we have seen in wind.  But I won't complain.  Promise.

Kiawah, at Hawksbill Cay, sporting her yellow quarantine flag before going through customs

Heading out to explore Hawsksbill in the dinghy

First steps on Bahamian sand.  We've since learned how to hold the flag.

Land hermit crabs!  (we thought of you, Siobhan and Roy)

Ghost crab burrow

Cranky ghost crab disturbed from his nap by curious tourists.  Not mentioning any names.

So, we are doing very well.  Luckily, the customs official let us into the country at Spanish Cay and we are all adjusting to cruising life quite nicely.  

Kiawah, at Spanish Cay Marina

The customs "office" was on the porch behind the girls

Bahama blue water

Fooled ya!

Friends on Funny Things

Immogen from Funny Things showing me her giant katydid

First Kalik on Bahamian soil

Of course, there are good days and bad days, just like home.  It's a small boat, and we've certainly had our share of technical challenges.  For instance, the afternoon we sailed over to Allans- Pensacola Cay,  intending to anchor off one of the longest and most beautiful sand beaches I've ever seen (the kids were salivating in the cockpit and my running shoes were on deck). After several attempts to set the anchor in an unreceptive bottom, we had to turn back to Hawksbill Cay.  While we were motor-sailing back, kids crying (literally) an daylight waning, the engine died.  Scott suspected it was a fuel issue.  Losing the engine on a sailboat might not seem like such a big deal, but sailing to anchor is very tricky business, especially in shallow water.  After several acts of sailing finesse, Scott landed us safely back where we started and we dropped the anchor in the dark.  The next day was spent tearing the fuel-water separator apart, trying to troubleshoot the problem.  Alas, there was algae growing in our fuel tank and clogging our filter. Yes, some algae can apparently grow in diesel!  This problem would continue to plague us unless we could fix it.  Luckily, Scott had the foresight to bring along not one, but TWO, brand new fuel/water separators.  We thought we were golden!  While attempting to install one of them (oh, yeah, I forgot to mention there was a big storm bearing down on the Abaco islands) he realized the thread was slightly different on the two fittings that needed to be joined.  No problem.  He had also brought a tap and die set.  Unfortunately, the set (which contains a ridiculous number of pieces), lacked the one size he needed.  We commenced to painstakingly picking the algae clods out of the old filter with a butter knife.  This worked  well enough to allow enough fuel to pass to the engine  to allow us move on to Marsh Harbour, the land of marine supplies and hardware stores.  We arrived just in time for 40kn winds to move in that evening. 

Teamwork

In goes the "refurbished" filter

Marsh Harbour in the rain and wind

Yeah, that was pretty tense 24 hours.  Scott, in his McGuiveresque way, has since figured out the thread issue and has BOTH new fuel/water separators installed in parallel with a shut-off valve between them.  If one clogs while we're underway, we simply flip the lever and we're feeding fuel through a fresh filter.  Redundancy on a boat is comforting. 

The twins

Of course, at $60  a whack for the filters, we are presently seeking a way to "polish" the fuel and clean the algae out of tank.  The boat yard in Marsh Harbour (where we are headed back to now, after spending the weekend anchored off Tahiti Beach near Hope Town) can do this for a sizable chunk of change.  Scott (of course) has a plan to do it himself (which will no doubt involve a lot of duct-tape and zip-ties).  Once cleaned out, we'll treat the fuel tank with a biocide to avoid future algal invasions.  Lesson learned.  I will never complain when algae grows in my fish tank again. 

But mostly, times have been really, really great.  Lots of laughs, beach excursions, amazing views, and unbelievable fishing (I'm writing a separate post for that). We've met some really great fellow cruisers, some with kids.  The girls are making friends and growing like weeds in this tropical air.  And we are all learning a ton.  I now know way more than I ever thought I would about marine engines.

Sheeting In

Reading Farley Mowatt's, The Boat that wouldn't Float out-loud at night

Never do your reading without a life jacket

Exploring Powell Cay

The sea stars are huge here!

So are the hermit crabs (this was an ocean dwelling one)

Hike on Powell Cay with a view of our anchorage

The "collection" is growing...

and growing.

Hunting for topshell snails in the convoluted limestone foundation that forms the Bahama islands

A "sea-grape", or at least that's what we called it

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