Maintenance day

Today was a maintenance day. Initially we thought we would head further south and join a mess of kid boats anchored about 16 miles from here at Rudder Cay. But the day was so windy and our anchorage so secure, we decided to just take it easy.

We divided the day among our usual activities: schoolwork (Moss is learning about mean, median, and mode although this new-fangled math of hers doesn’t use those terms yet), reading, swimming, and maintenance.

This may be TMI for those of you with vivid imaginations, but because there are no boats nearby, Ellen and I have been skinny-dipping. It is a treat to be able to swim, shower, towel off on deck without worrying about prying eyes. My concern is, of course, that our naked bodies will just attract crowds of admirers. That sort of attention just gets exhausting after a while. (Don’t bother scrolling down, there are no pictures of us. This is a family blog.)

Anyway, last night the wind was howling from the east, probably blowing well into the mid-30 knot range in gusts. Thank goodness for Pablo and all that chain. Cupcake held fast and we all slept without worries. (I also checked the chart and realized that in the unlikely event the anchor dragged, we would drift at least 15 miles downwind before we would have a chance of hitting anything.)

Despite the wind, the day was lovely with fast-moving clouds and bright sun. (I really want to use the word “scudding” in this sentence somewhere. There, I just did.)

And in the maintenance department, we all worked together to replace the autopilot with the new unit brought down by Tom and Delwyn. It’s installed, wired, tested, and most importantly, functioning well. Tomorrow we will see how it does at sea, but all preliminary indications are positive.

All the flags have been repaired and reinstalled except our yacht club burgee (landlubbers: a burgee is a wee flag). That FPYC (Flying Point Yacht Club) burgee was so tattered we had to retire the poor thing. The cool old Maine state flag is about 25% shorter than it was when new but has been hemmed to take care of the fraying. Ellen even re-stitched the US flag flying at the stern where it has started to fall apart. That harsh tropical sun is no friend of fabrics.

Stargazing has been excellent lately. This part of the Exumas is far enough from any sky-glow that the only light pollution we see is from masthead lights on anchored boats. With the waxing crescent moon, the night sky is a beautifully spangled wonder. Last night I taught Moss how to find north using the Big Dipper. 

Now she can find her way home if, for some reason, she prefers shivering through the four remaining months of Maine winter to cruising with us. 

NOTICE: technical watermaker jibber jabber ahead. Stop reading here and you won’t miss much.

We’ve also been experiencing a little difficulty with the watermaker. Although the product water is well within the acceptable levels of dissolved solids, the numbers have been creeping up. (Landlubbers: for our purposes, water purity is measured in parts per million of total dissolved solids (have I described this stuff already? If I have, sorry for the repetition.) We have a little TDS meter that gives us a reading on the water the watermaker produces so we know it is safe to drink before we send it to the tank. Any TDS reading below 700 ppm is considered acceptable.) 

The best TDS readings we have seen have been in the 200ppm range but last week we started seeing numbers in the mid 500s and then high 600s. Troubling stuff. Additionally, it seems like we’ve not been producing the 6 to 7 gallons/hour we were used to. Lately more like 5 gallons/hour at the most. 

Anyway, this afternoon after the autopilot success, I changed the prefilters (which are probably unrelated to the TDS and output issue) and started the watermaker. At first the TDS readings were crazy high (680+) but over time they dropped to less-upsetting 500s. Then I realized that running the watermaker off the batteries with the sun low in the sky meant the pump was getting less than 13 volts. More volts means more power to the pump. More power to the pump means more pressure through the watermaker membrane. More pressure to the membrane means lower TDS and more gallons per hour. 

So as a test we started the engine, the voltage jumped up to 13.5 or so and the TDS dropped to the low 400s. Still isn’t the 200s we used to see but it’s much better than what we were seeing last week. I’ll keep an eye on things. We will make a point of running the watermaker during the sunniest part of the day from now on.

Cruising tip of the day: put some kind of UV protectant on your flexible plastic solar panels to protect them from sun damage. That way, when you take a look at them on maintenance day and realize they are getting hazy, you won’t have to wax them like I did today. Should have been waxing them all along. 

Betsy Ross

In order to gain admission to some kind of yacht club/sailing club/commune thing, Tom just passed a seamanship test back at home. So it was with great authority that he advised us our Bahamas courtesy flag was flying from the wrong side of the boat. When Ellen and I brought the flags down to switch sides this afternoon, we decided all the flags needed some TLC. So Ellen got all Betsy Ross and hemmed the flags back to some sort of respectability. Crisis averted.

This morning we woke up early and were all in the dinghy by 7am to take Tom & Delwyn to the airport to catch their flight back home. We all agreed that the commute to the airport was about as excellent as such things go: it was a 10 minute dinghy ride across the spectacular clear waters. Tom & Delwyn were the only passengers on their flight, so it took off as soon as we arrived…an hour early. Imagine.

Our week with the Canadians was wonderful. The weather was perfect, we got some magnificent sailing and snorkeling and hanging around and dining with them. They are welcome back on Cupcake any time.

Getting ready to put our sign on top of Boo Boo Hill on Warderick Wells.

After two nights at Warderick Wells we went for one last snorkel before leaving the park. How jaded have we become? We rated the swim a 7.0/10, tops. Because all we saw was a little 4’ nurse shark with a remora, a big triggerfish, a barracuda, a bunch of reef fish, and a big ugly lobster. Yawn.

Bell Rock at Cambridge Cay.

We enjoyed a night at Cambridge Cay, as I mentioned in the last post. Went for a nice walk ashore where Moss and I built another voodoo catamaran. Voodoo Cat V was launched in the mangrove swamp, the source of the midges and mosquitos. We will see if she does any good.

Moss with Voodoo Cat V.

Sailing from Cambridge to Sampson Cay under a double-reefed mainsail and full jib was another fantastic ride. We were cruising at an easy 6.5 knots, topping out at 7.2 through magically clear, calm seas. Fantastic stuff.

Sampson Cay proved, once again, to be a safe calm spot to ride out stiff breezes from the east.

Our last night with guests was passed near Thunderball again. Curiously, we had a hard time getting the anchor to set because we kept finding thin sand over limestone. When Ellen and I dove on the anchor to see what was going on, I spotted a scuba tank on the bottom. No sign of the diver, just a pile of bones with a mask and snorkel. (Kidding about the bones and snorkel.) So now we have a scuba tank but no regulator. 

Nicest laundromat we know.

After Tom & Delwyn departed, we filled up on diesel and gas at Staniel Cay then scooted down to Black Point to take care of laundry and tank up with water. Hit the grocery stores, dumped the trash. We are fully loaded and ready for the next adventure.
Tonight we are anchored south on Great Guana Cay, our southernmost point on the whole trip. 

Look it up:

N 24* 4’ 25”

W 76* 23’ 4”

BIG YACHT. tiny cupcake.

Look at the long legs on that child!

Found art.

From the top of the hill at Cambridge Cay you can see the Sound on the left, the brown mangrove swamp in the mid ground, and the Banks in the background.

Happy happy.

It’s not a selfie, it’s a picture of what we call Ellen’s OCD fries.

Canadian Invasion

The Canadians have arrived! After some weather delays getting to Staniel Cay from western Canada, Tom and Delwyn are with us aboard Cupcake for a week. We passed a calm night anchored just west of Thunderball Grotto (convenient to both excellent snorkeling and airport collecting). In the morning we snorkeled the grotto then set out about eight miles to the north to check out Thomas Cay, an anchorage we’ve been eager to explore in Pipe Creek. When we were at Little Pipe Cay with Simon early last month we could see boats over here and were eager to try it out ourselves. 

Ellen, Moss, Jonathan, Delwyn, Tom.

We motored east through the cut behind Big Majors and about a mile and a half out onto the Sound we found water over 1,000’ deep and set our fishing lines. Didn’t catch anything but enjoyed the gentle sail up to Thomas Cay. The seas were fairly calm, the winds were under 15 knots, the sun was shining, and the water was gorgeous indigo.

Our anchorage was to the west of Thomas Cay where the tide flow was so strong the boat rode to the current instead of the wind. We all played in the crystal clear water for an hour or so. 

Thomas Cay cut.

Both Tom and Delwyn put in some practice and have already mastered the Jennabird Flip into the dinghy. Their goals for the week were met on their first full day here! Finally everyone can get down to the business of serious relaxation.

After a shockingly calm night at Thomas Cay (really, the anchorage was as still as a pond) we took Mr. Flowerpot to shore and followed a footpath through some short palm trees. The path led to a beach bordering the cut between Thomas Cay and Joe Cay. We hunted for shells on the beach, skipped stones in the water, and soaked up the beauty of the area. On the way back to Cupcake Delwyn and Moss decided it would be more fun for us to tow them behind the dinghy while they rode on a little float. So we did.

The wind was light, but from the north. So the trip to Warderick Wells was a motorboat ride. We fished along the drop off where the water was more than 1,000’ deep but caught nothing. Then we arrived at the mooring field in the Exuma Land and Sea Park late in the afternoon. Turns out it is almost exactly seven years ago that we were last at the island.

Today, after a snorkel, we dropped the mooring at Warderick Wells and had a magnificent beam reach down to Cambridge Cay where we are once again on a mooring. Cupcake  was hitting 7.25 knots on the reach, passed a couple of other cruising boats, and got to kick up her heels and be glorious.

Today is Ellen’s birthday and to celebrate she made herself a chocolate cake under sail and is now taking a rest before making meatballs and spaghetti for dinner. Delwyn and Tom serenaded her with a happy birthday/ukulele song first thing in the morning. 

Splash!

In the week before the Canadian Invasion, we spent more time in the Staniel Cay area with Piper. The weather provided us with another cold front, and Piper bugged out to Pipe Creek with Mojo. We stuck around Big Majors because we needed to stay in the area to pick up our guests, and were rewarded with some dramatic meteorological displays. Mostly wind and rain. But Big Majors is a spot with super protection and we trust our ground tackle (landlubbers, that means our anchor and chain).

Dangerous looking sky.

The rain went on all day and was heavy enough for me to scrub the deck and all the teak. Then I was able to take a rain shower and rinse with the downpour. Finally, I used all the fresh rainwater in the dinghy to do a load of laundry. Side note: when I test the product water from the watermaker it typically has between 200 - 300 parts per million of dissolved solids. Moss suggested that we test the ppm of the rainwater. It clocked in at an astonishingly low 11 ppm, and that was after the rain slid off the salty boat canvas. 

The double edged sword of spending time with sailing friends is that the social calendar is absolutely grueling. Last week we attended three dinner parties! Think of it: one night it’s stir fry, pasta salad, Whirly-Pop buttery popcorn, and a movie with Jennabird. The next night it’s curried rice and Girl Scout cookies aboard Piper. And then it’s conch fritters, spinach rice, and pudding on Cupcake. 

Soft shackle.

Maintenance update: Inspired by Piper, I taught myself how to make Dyneema soft shackles. These are basically shackles made of high-tech rope, they are lighter and stronger and cheaper than stainless steel ones. So we are trying them out on the dinghy-lashing-system we use to tie Mr. Flowerpot to the deck when we are underway.

I also finally got around to drilling out the larger hole the teardrop zinc for the centerboard pin. Installed it. Done. Probably put another one on in a month or two so Cupcake will be protected until the end of her sailing season. Ugh. Why am I even thinking about the end of her sailing season? It’s just February!

Zinc mill.

Installing the keel zinc.

Here’s a cruising tip: We’ve learned that if you act like you belong there, you can sneak into the pool area at the Staniel Cay Yacht Club. They’ve got a tiny little swimming pool and, more important, wifi. (The password is “guest1234” but don’t spread it around.)

Like a plumber's butt

It has been a week of kid-boat-craziness. We met two great boats: Mojo and Piper. They each have two kids approximately the same age as Moss. So we’ve been hanging out together, snorkeling, spearfishing, exploring, playing LEGOs, and visiting for a really fun week. If she can be convinced to write one, you can read a Moss-post to see what that was all about. (Encourage her to write on the blog: moss.handelman@gmail.com.)

Last week we snorkeled back to a spot north of Big Majors where we speared the previous lobster. In addition to seeing some beautiful coral and reef fish, Ellen spotted a monster lobster. The thing was huge, easily 18-20” long. It kind of freaked me out, so once again I had to build up my nerve before I could bring myself to spear it. (Side note, Moss was aboard Piper with the  other kids when we radioed to tell them we got the lobster. She immediately asked, “Did you get it right between the eyes like you always do?” Cold-blooded just like her mother.)

So I did get it right between the eyes and when I did, the lobster immediately scooted backwards under the coral where it had been hiding. The lobster was so big and strong, I couldn’t pull it back out. Had to drop the spear so I could swim to the surface to breathe. Dove down again and had to brace my feet (in fins) against the sand and pull on the spear with both hands to get that thing out of the coral.

The trick to not attracting sharks is to get the speared creature out of the water so the thrashing and bleeding doesn’t bring unwanted attention. When I lifted the lobster, flapping and dripping black nastiness, on the spear it was too heavy to hold out of the water with one hand. Too heavy to swim the 1/8 mile back to the dinghy. Turned out to be too heavy to swim with at all…it weighed around eight pounds. 

Ellen set off to fetch the dinghy while I stood with the lobster in about four feet of water on a patch of dead coral. After a few minutes, Ellen came back because she went the wrong way, got into a shallow coral dead-end, and got too tired to go further. She came back to me and waited with the catch, just managing to keep it under control, while I struck out for Mr. Flowerpot. We got into the boat without mishap (except to the lobster which Ellen again ripped in half) and made our way back to the mother ship.

This is just a little bit of the post-lobster-fry carnage.

That evening we hosted eleven people (Piper and Mojo) for breaded fried lobster and potluck dinner (home-made tortillas, cabbage salad, bean salad). We had so much extra lobster meat that we gave a bunch to Mojo and still had enough left over for lobster sushi the next day. (Side note: even-tempered Ellen had a small meltdown when she realized many of our sushi nori wraps were too crumbly to use.)

Overcoming her disappointment, Ellen rallied and made delicious tortilla soup (with home-made tortillas) last night. What with the beans, the fried lobster, and the tortilla soup our imaginary parrot has had a lot to say lately.

Mi esposa trabaja en una tortilleria.

Speaking of gas, I finally figured out why the outboard engine has been drooling oily gas whenever we tilt it out of the water. Initially I though the carburetor was leaking when tilted, but it isn’t. When the motor-cover latch fell off (and sank, never to be seen again) last week I took a good look at the engine and realized the gas tank is the source of the leak. And when the motor is tilted, the mess finds its way out through drain holes.

So our outboard’s gas tank is like the proverbial plumber’s butt: it has a crack in it.

Q: how is the gas tank like a plumber’s butt?

I patched the crack (in the gas tank) with one of my magic potion epoxies and the leak was cured. 

For three days. (Side note: the epoxy holds on the cracked soap-dispensers in the galley and the head, but not so much on the gas tank.)

Sorry about the blurry picture, but these slack-jawed kids are riveted by Star Wars playing on the TV in the bar where we had dinner.

Yesterday in advance of the coming cold front I pulled the leaky tank again and tried to seal it with 3M 4200 adhesive. I have a third option up my sleeve when that patch fails, but I remain optimistic that the 3M will actually hold. Once the adhesive fully cures and I reinstall the tank later today I will know where things stand.

That’s the shadow of our mainsail on the bottom of the sea.

A few days ago we sailed down to Black Point for a change of scenery and for the laundry machines. Along the way we anchored for lunch at a little rocky spot just east of Harvey Cay so we could snorkel.

The water was so clear I was able to check to set of the anchor with the binoculars!

In Black Point we enjoyed some good rum punch and Kalik beer ashore with Jennabird, Mojo, and Piper in the evenings, walked to the blowhole across the island, and generally enjoyed Black Point once again.

Tempestuous day on the east side of Black Point.

Yesterday we had a fabulous spinnaker run to Staniel Cay where we are hiding from another cold front behind Big Majors. After so many days of running around and playing, it’s time we got back to educating our littlest crew member again.

We area also getting ready for our next visitors, Tom and Delwyn, who we met aboard their boat Mahalo the last time we were down here. Incidentally, we spotted seven year old boat cards from our pals Alchemy, and Mahalo stapled to the wall in the Rockside Laundromat on Black Point. Our card from 2012 was there as well.

Ice!

In other riveting news, we defrosted the freezer the other day. The ice on the freezer was about two inches thick in spots. Cleared that out and we are much more efficient now.

Multi-species selfie: Ellen with Spike, who visited when Lily from Mojo brought her to check out Cupcake.

Another cold front

Someone tell Ringo and Paul we’ve found it.

Last night I had an odd dream where I realized I needed to polish my shoes because they were very scuffed. Perhaps I had the dream in response to the fact that I wore my Crocs yesterday and it was the first time I’ve worn shoes of any sort in days and days. In any event, when I awoke we had more pressing matters to address. 

The storm that brought all the snow to the Northeast this weekend sent us scurrying for protection from strong winds clocking (as they do in these fronts) from the east trade winds to the south, west, and then north. The past two weeks have been delightful with their light easterlies. We were free to dinghy all over, discover great snorkeling spots, try out new anchorages, hang out with friends. So last night’s winds out of the southeast then southwest, with the rain, thunder, and lightning, and gusts into the high 20s or low 30s were a real departure from what we’ve grown to expect.

Built another voodoo catamaran. This one is made from flip flops. Both lefties.

This morning after monitoring the short wave weather report I went on deck to see where we were lying at anchor. When we set the anchor two days ago in our spot to the east of Big Majors, the wind was more or less out of the south, blowing us to the north. So this morning when I saw the shore no more than 50’ off our stern, it was clear both that the wind had come out of the north and that it was time to depart. The limestone rocks called iron shore look very imposing when you see them up close from the deck of your boat. We do not think our anchor dragged, just that our radius, 180º from where we started, brought us closer to land than we thought prudent.

Deferring breakfast, we upped anchor and scooted around to the other side of Big Majors in anticipation of the easterly winds coming after the front. We enjoyed maybe two hours of choppy seas as the wind worked its way behind the island and we finally got protection from the aftermath of the front. It was fun watching other boats scurry around to find protection as well. Fortunately we got here early enough to snag a choice spot up close to shore and Cruisers’ Beach where we hope to make a beach fire some evening this week.
The plan was to make a fire ashore last night, on the other side of the island. But the weather turned nasty well before that plan could come to fruition so we postponed the event. Unfortunately, we were not able to enjoy the full moon and lunar eclipse last night because of all the clouds. I suppose we must now wait until the next lunar eclipse in 2021.

Crystal clear water.

Today it is plenty sunny so we are making water and charging the batteries from the solar panels. The charge meter read 13.4 amps at 1pm today. That’s the highest output I can remember seeing since last summer. So we have turned the corner on winter. Whew.

Because Ellen and Moss wanted to go to shore to make art and play, I’ve stayed aboard to keep tabs on the watermaker. I also used my time to straighten up the cabin…we are definitely in Winnebago mode, not sailboat mode. 

The other day we had a pair of shark buddies hanging around the anchor. I’m swimming to shore after I post this so if this is the last you hear from me, you will know why.

Taking advantage of the peace and quiet, I tried a bit of meditation. It’s a treat to meditate on Cupcake with the sound of lapping waves (and, to be fair, the grumbling of the watermaker). I have meditated in empty conference rooms at courthouses (quiet as a tomb), in the bathtub last winter when I was nursing a rib I cracked after falling on the ice, sitting on the rug in front of a fire crackling in the fireplace, on the deck of Cupcake while anchored at Seal Bay on Vinalhaven Island in Penobscot Bay. As much as I would enjoy a bath, meditating down here beats just about anywhere else.

Barracuda (sphyraena barracuda) about 4’ long.

We anticipate strong winds all week and may have to endure a rougher anchorage on Friday as the next front whirls its way through, but are pretty pleased with our decision to enjoy these weeks around Staniel Cay. There’s plenty to do, lots of great snorkeling and spearfishing, nice people all around, and some of the clearest water in the world.

These guys are in total race mode.

A few days ago we joined Jennabird for a dinghy trip to the south end of Staniel Cay. Mr. Flowerpot is so much slower than their dinghy, they took Moss in the hopes that we could plane and keep up. Had a fine time chasing each other and exploring the clear water and quiet cove at that end of the island.

We also enjoyed a movie night on their boat. Between the movie, the popcorn, the company, we all had a fantastic time. 

Crazy as it sounds, we have begun discussing the return trip. Initially we thought it would involve a 5-day offshore trip from here to North Carolina. But the more we thought about how much we are not looking forward to enduring that voyage, the more we realized that some time in mid-April, a one or two day sail back to Florida (which Ellen, Moss, and I can easily do without additional crew members to help out, unlike the 5-day trip) and then a leisurely journey back up the ICW is a far more appealing option. Nothing’s set in stone, but we are all feeling much more relaxed about the homeward trip. 

Moss and Ellen exploring an uninhabited island.

Cave in Thunderball.

We keep going back to Thunderball Grotto. That place is super cool.

These turtles are the quickest swimmers we see around here. Crazy fast.

Half-year

Well, yesterday marked the six-month anniversary of our move aboard Cupcake and the half-way point of our sailing adventure. Although we didn’t start our sail south until the end of July, we began our life on a boat in the middle of the month. 

In some ways it seems like much longer than half a year since we began this journey. Part of the reason it seems longer is that it is a little difficult to remember all our shore-based concerns with the kind of immediacy they used to command. In the first month or so of our trip I would actually pine for my job. It’s not that the living on a boat was a problem, but that I really enjoy the challenges and successes of what I do ashore. And for the first months I missed being immersed in that exciting, rewarding world. Now it is challenging merely to recall how I earn a living. (Yes, I know I’ll need to start remembering when summer rolls around again, but still…)

In many other respects, our adventure seems like it has been going much less than the six months. Ellen pointed out that, although we have been in the Bahamas since late November, the truly relaxing portion of the trip didn’t really begin until last week when we were just the three of us aboard again and settled comfortably in the Exumas. Lots of the earlier portions of the trip were about moving the boat and learning to be liveaboards. Now our days are much more about playing, fixing, and exploring.

Pufferfish (dioxin hysterix). Looks so frightened hiding under that coral.

Speaking of playing, we have been hanging around with Harry and Alicia from Jennabird. They are the people who we first met way back at Cape Lookout, NC. Today we all went snorkeling at a pretty excellent coral reef to the north of Fowl Cay and Little Majors Spot. The reef was fairly shallow, pretty well protected from the strong current of the incoming tide, and loaded with beautiful coral and fishies.

French Grunt (haemulon flavolineatum).

Despite the low grey rainclouds, we checked out the reef and just as I was getting ready to head back to the dinghy (Ellen had already called it quits, Moss and Alicia didn’t even go in the water) I spotted a lobster’s antennae. As always, I wasn’t sure I had the nerve to spear it, so I pointed it out to Harry – forcing me to be the hunter after all. Harry peeked at the lobster and claims he used his “lobster whisperer” beckoning skills to entice it out from the depths of the crevice in which it was hiding. When I dove on it again, the lobster (a big one) had crawled out to a spot where I had an extremely easy shot. So I shot and missed. The lobster didn’t even flinch, so I took it with a second shot.

Hanging out.

Ellen was so excited when she saw me lift the spear and lobster out of the water as I swam back to Mr. Flowerpot. She immediately pulled the catch off the spear, and once again ripped it in half with her (gloved) hands. Fearless, ferocious, and hungry. That’s what I look for in a woman.

Tonight we are heading to Jennabird for dinner. Ellen is making lobster penne, Jennabird  is providing salad and a movie (and dessert, Moss and I hope). Ellen was going to make lobster linguini but is trying to avoid alliteration. Also, last night she made a marvelous chicken parmigiana to feed the family and was wary of serving a surfeit of red sauce.

Killer.

No Ellen-selfie today because this next set off pictures is so much more fun. Harry taught us a super-cool back-flip trick for getting into the dinghy. Every time Ellen does it, she is overcome with giggles because the trick is such a treat. Enjoy.

Project time

So I was thinking about that spinnaker picture in the January 11 post and how fantastic it looks. Perfect day, perfect wind, perfect location. All true. It also got me thinking about what, amid all this perfection, is likely to break next. That train of thought got me thinking about preventative maintenance. And here we are.

Maintenance parts.

Our trusty Westerbeke 44c engine.

Over the weekend I rummaged around in my engine-maintenance-parts bucket and pulled out a filter, an impeller, and all sorts of zincs. Before lunch I inspected the pencil zinc that lives in the bowels of the engine. The zinc shows a little bit of self-sacrifice as you can see in the picture, but it’s certainly not ready to be replaced. Good.

Then I changed the littlest of our fuel filters because although I changed the big paper fuel filter at the same time I did that messy oil change last fall, I didn’t change the little one. Done. 

Ellen cleaned the engine raw water strainer while I dug into the next little task. My job involved taking a look at the raw water impeller which has been loyally spinning its little heart out for about 300 engine hours now. The impeller was about to lose a vane, so it’s fortunate I thought to check on the thing when I did. It appears 250 hours is probably a better replacement schedule than 300.

Worn impeller.

Moss, quietly reading, noticed all the hubbub and wanted to know what broke. Nothing. Maintain it so you don’t have to fix it. There will always be something broken sooner or later.

Ate the last of an apple pie for lunch (Moss had a quesadilla, Ellen is an epiphyte so we just misted her with water from a spray bottle) and then jumped in to add a zinc to the propeller shaft and try to replace two other zincs that live on the keel. 

Our boat has a centerboard, but we never saw much benefit when we used the centerboard and ultimately realized its Rube Goldberg lifting mechanism was a sink-the-boat-if-it-fails kind of setup. And it was leaking. So a few years ago we removed and capped the lifting system and pinned the board in the up position with a beefy stainless steel bolt. That bolt gets two zincs because if the bolt fails and the board pivots down, we suddenly have an 8’ draft.

The prop shaft zinc went on with no trouble. But the board zincs are another story. When the boatyard installed the big bolt this spring, they probably figured the zincs would be changed annually when the boat is hauled for the winter. 

Unfortunately, it looks like I will have to modify the replacement teardrop zincs I bought in Nassau because they have a smaller bolt hole than will fit the centerboard bolt. So I’ve drilled out a larger hole but still need to find a way to make it even bigger so I can countersink the washer. This project will take some thinking and a few days. One reason for delay is that the Dremel I would use to enlarge the hole for the washer is otherwise occupied. It is occupied with a dirty little secret.

Dirty little secret time. Cupcake has soft spots. These old fiberglass sailboats have decks that were made with an outer skin of fiberglass, a core of balsa wood for stiffness, and an inner skin of fiberglass. That sandwich worked great for years and was light and strong. 

Cutting the fiberglass deck.

Then, like the snake in the Garden of Eden, water got inside the sandwich and everything went bad. The water rotted the balsa. That evil has happened in a spot on our cabin top where water worked its way in through several of the many screw and bolt holes up there. The balsa core is so rotten that the deck flexes and I had to write “NO STEP” on the soft spot in Sharpie so Simon and Zachary would remember not to step there.
Saturday I finally got around to starting the repair, made 80% of the cut in the fiberglass skin around the soft spot. Then the rain began. Also the battery in my Dremel cutting tool died. As I told Moss, it’s not that big a deal that water is getting inside the deck through the cuts in that spot because the core really can’t get any more wet. But I’m still not all that pleased that Saturday was the rainy day. It wasn’t raining when I started. Friday was hot and sunny. Shortwave weather forecast made no mention of rain squalls.

Once the rain let up, I finished the cut and pried the skin up to take a look at the nastiness underneath. The balsa was probably blond-colored when it was installed, but the water made it rot and turn black and mushy. So mushy. So rotten. We had a pleasant time scooping out all the mush and cleaning things up in preparation for the next step: replacing the core.

Bailing the case. (That’s a Moby Dick reference for you.)

When we were in St. Augustine I scored a piece of Divinycell from a marine supply warehouse. Divinycell is what Pearson should have used instead of balsa wood  in 1986 when they built the boat. People knew well before then that balsa cored boats rotted. But Pearson probably did not want to spend for the non-rotting alternative core. In any event, the stuff we bought is some kind of semi-flexible plastic material that has good compression strength, bends enough to match the curves and imperfections of a boat deck, and will not rot.

Ill-timed squall.

On Saturday night it rained more than it has any day since we started this trip (not counting hurricanes). Fortunately, we covered the hole in the deck with a hatch umbrella. Fortunately the core was soaked anyway so more water didn’t really make any difference. Fortunately it was hot and sunny the next day.

Applying pressure.

Everything dried out nicely, we fit the replacement core, epoxied it in place, epoxied the skin back on top, then waited.

This morning we finished cutting the no-skid covering we are using to hide the cuts in the deck and stuck it in place. The project came out pretty well and met the goal of reinforcing the soft spot so we can now walk on it without fear of falling through the roof. 

Winds are supposed to be very light for the remainder of the week, so we may go spearfishing on the east side of the islands, out in the Exuma Sound. Usually those waters are too rough for us to snorkel, but with light winds from the west, today is our chance. We intend to enjoy the mild weather this week because it sounds like there are some extremely fierce winds predicted for the weekend and possibly all of next week.

I’m trying to figure out how to put minutes on my Batelco cell phone so I can keep posting this riveting stuff.

The cook made these two fabulous loaves of bread and we gobbled them up.

Thunderball from the northeast. Somewhere in that shadow is the backside of the big blue cave opening from the December 26 photo.

Selfie. Ellen says the majority of these pictures are in the galley because we never let her out.

Gunkholing

Although we have not traveled many miles over the past few days, we have done a good deal of snooping around the islands to the north of Staniel Cay. In contrast to our Bahamas visit in 2012, this year we are slowing way down to explore and enjoy the area. (Landlubbers: “gunkholing” is when cruisers wander about and anchor in protected, shallow spots.)

Because of our watermaker, we free to anchor away from civilization until our limiting factors kick in. (The resource we ran out of first used to be water, now it is primarily a place to dispose of our trash, secondarily our need for fresh vegetables drives us back to settlements.)

A few days ago (side note: dates and days of the week are getting pretty vague for us, so if we miss your birthday or anniversary or parole date don’t take it personally) we sailed out of Big Majors towards Fowl Cay. Well, one of the Fowl Cays…there are several around here. As soon as we turned out of the anchorage we pulled out the asymmetrical spinnaker and flew it for the first time since the Alligator River back in September.

Days like this are why we came down here.

We can’t remember the last time we saw another boat flying a downwind sail. The point was driven home to us when a sailboat on a reciprocal course to ours gave us a thumbs up and took a few pictures of beautiful Cupcake looking glorious. We took a few pictures of our own as well.

Bubble bath. No bubbles today.

Fowl Cay is an interesting private island with a horseshoe-shaped cove. The island is conveniently located a dinghy ride away from Rocky Dundas, a pair of tiny islands with great snorkeling at a coral reef and pretty cool cave. We checked them out and enjoyed the fish life and the corals and the caves. Then we scooted about 3/4 of a mile to Compass Cay where there was a bubble bath. In the Bahamas a bubble bath is a formation where the waves crash over a short stone bar to churn up the waters in an otherwise protected, shallow pool. Because it was such a settled day, there was not much bubbling going on. We waded in the pool and added a hoodoo to the collection on shore. All the limestone around here really lends itself to hoodoo-stacking.

Ocean cave.

Hoodoos.

The Fowl Cay anchorage was a beautiful, idyllic spot but because of the way Cupcake was lying relative to the wind, we had a very rocky night. In the morning we moved to Bell Island, just inside the southern border of the Exuma Land and Sea Park. Had a great snorkel, scraped barnacles off the bottom of the boat, and spied on a pair of big stingrays hunting in the sand near the boat. Moss perfected her underwater skills and now easily swims under Cupcake. We then had an even rockier night. All day the boat was sitting in calm waters. As soon as we started dinner, things got really unpleasant. Safe, just uncomfortable. Ugh. 

You see beautiful water. I see coral and shallows. And a deep path.

The route from Fowl Cay to Cambridge Cay and Bell Island took us over some extremely narrow, shallow channels. Our GPS took us on a route that would have run us hard aground on a falling tide, so Visual Piloting Rules applied. (Landlubbers: VPR means trust your eyes, not the charts, to read the water depth. Upon arriving in the Bahamas, the water all just looks gorgeous. But after a little experience, we’ve re-learned to read the water color to determine the depth. We’re also getting pretty good at reading currents and winds and little ripples to give us more clues about what places are safe and deep enough for the boat. And running aground on a falling tide is the wrong way to do it because depending on where you are in the tide-cycle, you could be sitting on the bottom for up to six hours, waiting for the rising tide to lift you off. We always try to run aground on a rising tide. (Really, we plan our thin-water excursions for flood tide whenever we can.))

That’s Moss pointing out the safe route through the shallows.

Enormous coral. Bigger than the dinghy.

In the Land and Sea Park there is a new rule that, in addition to paying $20/night to use a park mooring, boats now need to pay 50¢/foot just to anchor. We are not a fan of the notion that we should pay for the privilege of using our own anchor and chain, but understand that we are guests here and these are the rules. We also understand that the Land and Sea Park is privately funded and that it is a fantastic resource. We don’t understand where the money is going, however. The park hosts at Cambridge Cay where we took a mooring for a delightfully calm night were volunteers from Canada, not Bahamians earning money. There is no pump out boat, so moored boats without awesome composting heads like ours just dump their waste into the pristine protected waters. There is no enforcement of the no-wake zones. There is nowhere to take trash ashore, resulting in piles of plastic debris on land that cruisers collect from the beach but which are never removed.

In any event, we passed a pleasant afternoon with Jennabird who we first met at Cape Lookout, NC and then again in Bimini. Every time we see them, we end up losing a Croc overboard. This time Moss threw my shoe off the dinghy just to keep our streak alive. We also score Flav-or-ice from them. Super fun people.

At the beach on the Exuma Sound side of Cambridge Cay, Moss and I built another flotsam catamaran. This one was significantly larger than the last one and had a sail, a dinghy, and an anchor. 

Another voodoo catamaran.

As much as we enjoyed the park, in the interest of spending nothing for the night and in the interest of spearfishing tomorrow, we moved to Sampson Cay today. This anchorage is very protected, right next to a beautiful former-resort that is now a private island. Met a boat from Camden, Maine this afternoon. It’s nice to see people from home waters. Bonus: they are a kid boat.

Tonight Ellen is making tacos with hand-made tortillas for dinner. Last night we had chicken fried rice. Yesterday we had eggs and hash browns for breakfast. Ellen has hit her stride.

Crazy Ellen in the galley taking time out from making noise with the pots and pans.

We have a big boat again

Kickstand. You thought I was kidding, didn’t you?

Well, our boy Simon flew back to the US this morning. I got a great picture of the airplane with the kickstand this time. We enjoyed our visit with him and feel fortunate he could share so much time with us during his break. 

(If you are thinking, “Jonathan is just writing that sentence to make Simon feel good when he reads the blog,” don’t kid yourself – we think it unlikely that Simon reads the blog at all. He’s a smarty and got excellent grades again last semester at George Washington University. We are proud of our scholar. But he doesn’t seem to seek out this literary genre. (Mainers, give him your vote if you ever see his name on the ballot. Watch out Susan Collins you coward.)) (Side note: Moss says I am being a cyber-bully to Susan Collins. Perhaps. But at least I am not a hypocritical gender-traitor like the senator.)

Moss the fish.

Anyway, we passed the remainder of the day taking care of business at Staniel Cay in preparation for about a week or two away from civilization. Before taking care of chores, however, Moss and I snorkeled Thunderball Grotto again. The current was ripping through but Moss is becoming a strong swimmer and had no difficulty managing. She is becoming a real fish. (She would prefer I didn’t call her a “water baby.”) 

School has resumed aboard Cupcake and Moss seems to be enjoying the work once again. Speaking of work, ashore we had the propane tank refilled, filled the diesel tank and jerry cans, and cleaned our laundry at a laundromat.

Don’t believe everything you read.

Let’s talk about that laundromat. Actually it was a laundromat and wholesale liquor store. I know a little bit about wholesale liquor and can definitively state that $62 for a case of Kalik beer that sells for $42 in the government store back in Nassau is not a wholesale price. Similarly, $30 to use coin-operated machines to wash and dry two loads of laundry is not wholesale either. Yikes. 

In any event, we are tanked up with fuel (well, not gasoline for Mr. Flowerpot  because Staniel Cay ran out of gas two days ago and hasn’t gotten a delivery since) and clean laundry and a clean composting toilet and electricity (because today was bright and sunny). 

This evening we are hanging on the hook at Big Majors Spot and will head back to the Pipe Creek area tomorrow for some snorkel action. Ellen wants to make lobster sushi. (Side note: Best-Practices-Ellen has us anchored with 75’ of chain in 11’ of water. It is unlikely we will drag in the 15 knots of wind tonight will bring. But boy will we sleep well.)

Aretha Franklin on the stereo (Moss has a new favorite musician), meatballs and spaghetti with hand-made breadsticks for dinner. Ahh. Sometimes this lifestyle is very easy to take.

It’s actually more beautiful and mysterious than it looks in the pictures.

The fishies in Thunderball Grotto are not afraid because there is no hunting allowed. The stripey ones are Sergeant Majors (Abudefduf saxatilis). The guys with the yellow tails are Schoolmasters (Lutjanus apodus).

Amen.

Team Cupcake.

Is Simon smiling because he is leaving this ship of fools?

Group selfie. Matchy-match shirts. So cute.

Resources

The days have been blending into one another lately. It’s partially because the weather has finally settled down a bit so we can spend the bulk of our days not fretting about wind, but instead scooting about in the dinghy seeking out snorkel spots, and just relaxing and reading.

Pipe Creek sand bar.

A few days ago we sailed up to Pipe Creek for the evening to explore a bit. Our anchorage, between two little cays, was protected from the wind but was in the teeth of a fierce current. When Moss and I jumped in the water to check on the anchor, the current was too strong for her to leave the protection of the mother ship without making me nervous. So we swam together to the bow and while Moss held fast to the snubber, I went forward and confirmed that in 16’ of water, once again Pablo was buried deep and solid in sand.

While the kids stayed aboard so they could bicker in peace, Ellen and I roamed the Pipe Creek area by dinghy and realized that the water was spectacularly clear but was also super shallow. When we got back to the sailboat Moss and Simon joined us for a ride to a big smooth sandbar for a few hours of sand castles and swimming. The tide was rising so by the time we left our little island had lost significant acreage. By nightfall, the sandbar was completely submerged.

That’s me checking to see if we will hit the sand bar if the wind and tide shift.

That evening Moss got an email from her buddy Liz on Orion and we realized they were just down the the islands at Big Majors. Reached them by VHF to see about coordinating. Because we hadn’t seen Orion since St. Augustine, we convinced them to stay around Big Majors an extra day before heading to Georgetown.

In the morning we sailed south and met up with them at Big Majors for some spearfishing (didn’t see anything spearable although Ellen and I were stalked by a big grumpy-looking barracuda).

Played together on the pig-free beach at Big Majors, cracked open a coconut Simon and I harvested at Black Point last week, and the younger kids made a catamaran out of two plastic kayaks that live on the beach.

Ellen “caught” a conch and made conch with rice, peppers, and garlic to take to Orion for dinner that night. We had a fine time catching up and will do what we can to meet up with them in Georgetown. Because the family lives aboard full-time and Phil works from the boat via the Internet, they need to be in a spot with reliable connectivity. 

Moss finally got to snorkel at Thunderball Grotto yesterday and really loved the experience. The entrance, at low tide, does not need a dive underwater. But there are two tunnels out of the grotto that require little underwater dives. Moss mastered the exit and is justifiably proud of her accomplishment. 

We moved Cupcake around to the back side of the anchorage to a spot called Little Majors. Had the place to ourselves, in part because the chart erroneously describes the anchorage a having “poor holding.” One reason we moved from Big Majors (aka Piggy Beach) was the pigs. Tour boats run back and forth across the bay all day ferrying tourists to the pig beach. So the wakes are constantly rocking the boat. Furthermore, all those pigs on the beach also crap on the beach. At high tide, logs of pig poop come floating by the boat. It’s pretty disgusting. We actually do not see the appeal of pigs on a beach. Pigs are disgusting. Delicious, but disgusting. And the people aren’t eating the pigs, they are swimming in their filth with them and feeding them.

Anyhow, we anchored just fine despite the warning on the chart. Pablo was buried up to his rollbar in good sand. Today with the wind changing direction, there are another six boats sharing the anchorage with us. We are trendsetters.

Now that we’ve been on the boat almost half a year, various bits and pieces of equipment are starting to fail. (Side note: that’s a pretty remarkable run of relatively trouble-free sailing.) Yesterday when I made water, we realized the bilge was filling with seawater. Traced the leak to a failed o-ring on the watermaker pre-filter housing. I have no replacements. (Side note: it would make sense for the $15 water filters to come with replacement o-rings. After all, $7 oil filters come with replacement o-rings, $8 fuel filters come with replacement o-rings, $12 water pump impellers come with replacement o-rings.)

Ellen and I took the dinghy to Staniel Cay to see if we could get ourselves a replacement o-ring from someone ashore. Nobody had anything that fit, but the guys at Staniel Cay Yacht Club and at Watermakers (an outfit that makes purified water for the cay) gave us a too-big o-ring to try. They suggested cutting the ring to size then supergluing the cut ends together. 

Their advice felt, at the time, like a “let’s just get this poor guy out of here any way we can” suggestion. But when I tried the cutting and gluing today it worked like a charm. So the cruising tip of the day is that you can cut an o-ring to size and then glue it together. Who knew? (Well, Chubby at Staniel Cay Yacht Club, for one.)

Speaking of resources, with all the snorkeling and trips to shore and visiting neighbors lately we have been burning lots of gasoline. In fact, we need to refill our jerry cans on Monday and can’t remember the last time we bought gas. Some of the gasoline we are just now using may be from August. So it is stale and makes the outboard unhappy. 

Also, Cupcake is just barely able to keep up with the power and water demands the four of us put on the system. Three people on board seems right for what the boat can generate. Four puts a strain on the system. Five people were a significant challenge, so when our next batch of guests comes we will make sure we have full tanks of water to start and access to shore water along the way. I don’t know what we are going to do about beer. What we have plenty of at this stage in the trip is time. It is a luxury we are thoroughly enjoying.

Selfie Ellie.