Hog Cay Cut

Such exciting news for today.

First: We’ve fixed the watermaker. The replacement membrane and o-rings arrived in Georgetown yesterday (I won’t get into the cockamamie and arbitrary customs/tax/broker hassle we navigated). So this morning after the shortwave weather report, we got right down to business. The removal and replacement went extremely smoothly and the watermaker is now back in business.

Our tanks are full, so I took a long hot shower this afternoon. Ahhh.

(In other tank news, we are also full up on diesel, gas, and propane. There’s no trash on board, the composting head was just emptied, the batteries are charged, and we’ve got a larder full of groceries and vegetables. Loaded like this, we figure we could go two weeks, easily, without needing civilization. And if we had to, a month would not be a stretch.

Second: we crossed the Tropic of Cancer this afternoon. Tonight we are anchored at N 23º 24’ 24” W 75º 34’ 1” and tomorrow we head even more southier.

The big deal today was crossing the Hog Cay Cut. It’s a narrow spot that is the most direct route from Georgetown to the Jumentos. But there’s a spot that is just 3’ deep at low tide. If you can’t make it across the Hog Cay Cut, the way around is close to 50 miles. So we needed to time our departure from Georgetown to coincide with a nearly full, flood tide this afternoon. Not an easy task when the tide tables are sketchy. (Is high tide 20 minutes before or 20 minutes after high tide at Nassau? There are debates about the tide every morning on the VHF net in Georgetown.) Anyway, we had a very bouncy ride down here, caught up with a catamaran going the same way, and decided to be the brave ones to lead him through the shallow spot. 

Foolish captain, why would you follow Cupcake through the shallow spot?

We must have timed the tide perfectly because the thinnest water we saw was 5.4’…plenty for Cupcake.

Since we crossed the cut at 2:30pm, we didn’t want to risk arriving at the Jumentos at dusk, so tonight we are anchored on the west side of Little Exuma Island. There’s no meaningful protection from waves or wind here, so the evening is shaping up to be a little rocky, but nothing we can’t manage. (Side note: seven years ago my parents joined us aboard Cupcake in the Bahamas. Their first night aboard was at a perfectly flat-calm anchorage. In the morning, my father opined that he prefers the boat to move a little more at night so he knows he is on a boat. Tonight, Dad, you would definitely know you are on a boat.)

Third: Moss was sad when we arrived in Georgetown a few days ago because her pals on Piper were long gone and her pals on Mojo were just leaving. This is the tough part about being a boat kid – friends are always departing. But the great part about being a boat kid is meeting new friends and unexpectedly finding old ones. 

We anchored near Orion, the first kid boat we met back in St. Augustine. But they are such conscientious parents, they had themselves quarantined because everyone aboard had some nasty fever. That’s thoughtful parenting. Nobody wants to be sick on a boat, and they weren’t going to be the ones who spread the germs. 

Bouncing back from that disappointment, Moss tracked down her friend Jonathan (a really nice boy with an outstanding name) and enjoyed a rainy day of LEGOs on his boat. The next day she met a girl named Esme whose parents are beekeepers and we all went for a hike up Monument Hill. 

Moss and her new pal hanging out atop a dune.

This afternoon we called my parents because we are about to lose cell service for a few days. My mom asked Moss if she was eager to get off the boat and come back home. Moss said “no.”

Mission accomplished. 

Moss says there are a lot of photos of me at the helm. But in this one I am smiling, which she says makes me look friendly. Don’t be fooled. (Side note: the water really is that color. Isn’t that crazy beautiful?)

Because the Jumentos Cays are remote and have no civilization of any sort on them, we will not have any way of communicating for the next few days. Don’t start worrying until March 21.

Scooting to Georgetown

We bugged out of Black Point and anchored a few miles to the south. Despite the fact that Black Point Settlement is a teeny-tiny place, it felt good to get back to a spot that was remote and uncrowded. We could see the mast lights of a few boats a mile to our north, but that was it for company. 

Proud father. Beautiful child.

The next day we had a brisk, perfect sail as we headed to Galliot Cut. Cupcake acquitted herself well, scooting along through mostly flat seas at 6.2 knots close hauled with a double reefed main and partially rolled genoa. 

Anchorage at Galliot Cut.

We were particularly eager to snorkel and spear at Galliot because Ellen and I have very fond memories of the snorkeling there seven years ago. We were not disappointed. The snorkeling was very varied…deep spots, shallow spots, sand, soft coral, hard coral, lots of fish. We spotted a turtle as soon as we got into the water. And we spotted a lobster shortly after that. 

Moss wanted to try her hand at the spearfishing so she got set up to kill the lobster but ended up taking just one shot before nerves set in and she left the hunting to my experienced hands. 

In my experienced hands I shot and missed the lobster about six times. Managed to knock off one of its antennae but didn’t get the lobster. 

It ended up hiding deep under a coral head so we ultimately gave up. I have no idea what my problem was. Moss is being kind and tells me it’s because the lobster was armored. 

About fifteen minutes later, Ellen spotted a lobster at about 20’ deep. She couldn’t dive deep enough to spear it and I couldn’t see the thing until she pointed it out to me. It was the same one I’d been harassing earlier. This time I got it but it took me a couple more shots. Crazy.

Immediately after getting the lobster into the bucket in the dinghy, Ellen swam off and returned with a huge conch. 

So it was conch fritters for dinner that night and lobster in coconut curry rice the next. Ellen is a marvel.

We left Galliot for Leaf Cay/Lee Stocking Island and fished the deep water of the Sound but caught nothing. The day was breezy, the seas were a little busy, so we were happy to drop anchor behind Leaf Cay and relax in the protected waters. When we arrived at about 2pm, there were two other boats in the anchorage. But by dinner time they had set off for points unknown. We were left the only boat in sight. After dark, but for some faint skyglow from Black Point,  the only light in sight was at Cupcake’s masthead.

Yesterday we motored in flat seas and 10 knots (on the nose) to Georgetown where we immediately reconnected with Jennabird.
Moss found her buddy Jonathan from Vivens Aqua and played at Chat & Chill for a few hours in the afternoon. Today after some AM mathematics Moss went to a LEGO extravaganza aboard Vivens Aqua while Ellen and I enjoyed a wet dinghy ride to town for propane, diesel, gasoline, beer, and groceries.

These kids are having a fine time sorting and organizing the LEGOs. Getting ready for LEGOfest in Georgetown.

On Monday when we were kind of beating through the waves, I felt as if we had somehow lost the momentum of our trip. Possibly I felt like that because we are starting to talk about heading north. It’s also possible I felt that way because it has been a long time since we chose to sail on a day that wasn’t great sailing. In any event, we are enjoying our time in Georgetown as we connect with friends and make new ones we will likely see over the coming weeks and months.

Bruised sky over Monument Beach. That’s what today’s cold front looks like.

Good news/bad news (maintenance update)

So there are several pieces of good news:

• My wounded finger is doing fine. I didn’t realize people would take Sherry’s guest post so seriously, but people have and several expressed concern about my injury. The cut from the knife was pretty deep and plenty bloody and took some rags, some gauze, some bandaging, and the better part of a day (ok, several days) to stop bleeding. But really, it was just a cut. The lesson learned is one I always teach to any kid who ever picks up a knife: make sure that when the knife slips it has a safe exit route and won’t slip into any important body parts. I neglected to follow my own advice and was using the knife to do a non-knife task. Don’t need to go into it here, but basically I was in a hurry and was being careless with tools. Now I’m fine and am actually looking forward to an excellent scar on the top of my second-favorite pointer finger as a reminder and tough-guy thing.

• Now that the sun is getting higher in the sky, we are making all the power we need just from the two functioning solar panels. (This good news comes packaged with some bad news. Keep reading.)

Cut open, cleaned out, waiting for epoxy and core.

Cutting the deck. You can see my wicked sharp knife clipped to my pocket. Gotta be ready to inflict grievous bodily harm on myself at a moment’s notice.

• We fixed the little soft spot in the fore-deck. When I installed that blingy anchor chain stopper months ago we realized the deck was soft up there too. So yesterday we cut it open, scooped out the rotten balsa core, re-cored it with that fancy foam stuff, and epoxied the whole deal up this afternoon. Problem solved. Ellen the Fore-Deck-Monkey is pleased as punch.

• Changed the engine oil and didn’t spill a drop. (Remember the fiasco last time? Learned my lesson.)

Oil change: not one drop spilled.

• Partner Jim is back in Maine, received the replacement solar panel this afternoon, and sent it on its way to meet us in Georgetown next week. It’s a bigger panel (175 watts instead of 120 watts). We hope it fits on the dodger. (We measured, but still you never know.) And when it is up and running, we will definitely have enough power to run the electric train set, the hair dryer, the lava lamp, and the neon Budweiser sign.

Here’s the bad news:

• The reason we are making all the power we need is because we are no longer running the water maker. Why? The water maker is dead. Careful readers will remember the water maker started producing water with higher and higher dissolved solids (salt) about a month ago. Things got much worse two days ago so I called the guys at Brewer South Freeport Marine who installed the thing to see what could be done to get some manufacturer warranty service down here. (Short answer, Spectra, the manufacturer, is not really showing the kind of customer service I would like to see. I have no doubt they will ultimately stand behind their warranty. But at this point they are not particularly responsive, focused, or involved in what is a pretty big deal to us.)

• This morning the water maker completely failed in its efforts to produce safe drinking water. The parts per million (ppm) were crazy-high and it looks like I will be taking the thing apart to replace o-rings (at a minimum) and membrane (worst-case scenario) when we get to Georgetown next week and pick up parts.

That’s the update. We enjoyed a couple of peaceful nights in a bay south of Black Point and today moved up to Black Point to get water. Tomorrow we head south to check out a cave, some snorkeling spots we’ve been looking forward to, and ultimately the kid boats back in Georgetown. 

In the meantime I have been reduced to toting jugs of water from shore to the boat. It is demeaning and exhausting. I am not sure I will be able to recover my dignity or my strength, so this may be my last post.

Southbound once again

Our most excellent guests, Jim, Sherry, and Eliot, flew the coop in the nick of time. They scooted out of Staniel Cay this morning just ahead of a cold front that is bringing a) brisk north winds, b) boisterous seas, and c) shockingly cold weather. After returning from the airstrip Ellen, Moss, and I set sail in search of a calmer spot at which to spend the night. We all had to wear long sleeve shirts in order to stay comfortable on our sail down to a bay just south of Black Point. Long sleeves! Insanity.

You might think we are anchored in Scotland but this is still in the Bahamas. Can you see the mast of the sailboat that’s wrecked on the beach on the far side of the castle?

Fortunately, the cold front is turning out to be less of a weather event than initially forecast. The winds are not gusting into the 30 knot range, but are instead staying in the low to mid 20s. And our spot, snuggled up close to shore, protects us from all of the waves and most of the swell. We ought to have a calm stay here. The next week or so should bring strong trade winds from the east – exactly the winds the majority of the anchorages in the Exumas provide excellent protection from. (Sorry about that terminal preposition, I got a lousy night’s sleep last night and do not feel grammatically adroit this afternoon.)

Our week with the Masons was enjoyed doing the things we came to the Bahamas for: swimming, spearfishing, sailing, eating great food, drinking great rum drinks, relaxing, and visiting. We all made better pals with Ian, the Mayor of Gaulin Cay who has been coming down here for decades. 

Jim and Sherry: happy couple in the Bahamas.

Having guests aboard is always a treat. We get to show people how we live on Cupcake, we get to share this fabulous place, and we get to remember how fortunate we are to be down here. Seeing the water and the fish and the sand and the boats through new eyes is always welcome.

Two goofballs on the beach.

Last night when we were enjoying a farewell dinner at the Staniel Cay Yacht Club, Ian and his friend Scott spent some time teaching Moss and Eliot how to play pool. Where better to pick up a pool-hustler habit than under the auspices of a pair of pirates at a tropical bar?

Yesterday Jim and Ellen and Moss were feeling a little crispy from the sun, so I took Sherry and Eliot (who were also pretty crispy, but undeterred) to a fantastic crescent beach on the east side of Staniel Cay. Because the weather was so calm (in advance of a cold front, the trades are often suppressed for several days) we were able to take little Mr. Flowerpot around to the Exuma Sound side of the cay and explore places that are quite wild and wavy most of the time. (Side note: I am pleased to report that the engine has never run as well as it has the past week. Successful repair!)

While Eliot and Sherry walked the beach, built a beach-junk-totem pole, and played in the surf, I took the dinghy and my spear about a quarter mile from shore to hunt at a lovely coral reef. 

The water was crystal clear, the reef was beautiful and ranged from about 3’ beneath the surface to a good 18’ deep. There were lots of crevices and spooky caves where all sorts of fishies were hiding. I saw no lobster but didn’t stay out too long because fishing alone with 3,000’ deep water just a bit behind me gives me a major case of the heebie jeebies. 

Earlier this week we spoke with a sailor who got bumped and well banged up by a bull shark a few weeks ago as they were both hunting the same fish. That encounter was fresh in my mind and did nothing to calm my nerves. I prefer hunting with at least one other person around because it increases my odds of not getting eaten by an apex predator. (On that note, thanks for your company in the water these past few days, Jim.)

Spearfishing with my decoy Jim.

We are hoping the replacement solar panel gets to Georgetown early next week. It is definitely needed because with only two of the three panels functioning, we must run the engine while we make water or we create a power deficit. With three panels, this time of year, we ought to meet our energy needs just on solar.

My to-do list is growing, so perhaps we will stick around here for an extra day to enjoy the calm spot and get some tasks accomplished. I’m trying to devise a plan for a weight belt to help me spearfish. The pros all wear lead so they can remain at depth without all the wasted energy needed when wearing a buoyant wetsuit. My preliminary design involves potholders and sandbags. I will keep you posted.

Ellen, who is good at just about everything she does, is also a splendid wildlife photographer. This is not a picture of Ellen, it is a picture by Ellen.

Guest blogger

Cupcake fans, you are in luck today.  This is guest-blogger Sherry reporting from Thomas Cay, while Jonathan fries up some bacon, Moss does math, and Big Jim and Ellen drink coffee and read. 

Sherry in her happy place at the helm.

Thomas Cay is a low, uninhabited island across a cut from Joe Cay.  On Thomas there’s a lovely sand beach with lizards, a pair of speedy white crabs, and a spider that I nearly walked into and took my breath away.  Very large.  The beach and the ironstone shore are littered with conch shells, some bleached white and others turned black and decaying.  There’s a path up through the palms and scrubby brush to a beach on the cut where there are peculiar round pieces of coral, each with a tiny hole in the middle.  The Cupcake crew have named this buttonhole beach and have two strings of these little talismanic objects hanging on the boat.  Across the cut, Joe Cay has some kind of private house/resort with its own beach.  I saw a golf cart on the beach yesterday.  There are some ledges between us and Little Pipe Cay, where there is either a resort or an enormous estate.  We watched a seaplane land and then take off from little Pipe Cay, and there’s a building right on the beach that may be the hangar.  We’ve had to monitor it closely as the door has opened and closed several times, requiring us to reach for the binoculars and squint to see what they’re up to.  It’s exhausting.  (We also salute the people of Little Pipe Cay for modern approach to internet security in their wifi password, because it was neither “Password” nor “Guest1234”.  Safeguards are in place.)   

Moss and Eliot hard at work designing a board game.

***Okay, while I was typing that last paragraph two seaplanes just landed, and now there is a rainbow whose pot-of-gold end is at Little Pipe Cay.  Rumor has it that both Johnny Depp and the Aga Khan live around here, so I keep expecting Johnny Depp to show up with a tray of bloody Marys and an invitation to come ashore for a shower.  But it hasn’t happened yet.  Perhaps today.***

Now that he is nearly 50 (47, but we round up on this boat), Jim has complicated eyeglass needs. His birthday was Saturday.

Between us and Little Pipe Cay there is a passage where enormous speedboats equipped with triple 300 hp outboards come blazing through, loaded down with tourists and playing rock-and-roll at a volume loud enough to be heard over the roar of the engines.  Apparently there’s a tour cycle where you can start in Georgetown and take a day trip, first to see the swimming pigs of Big Majors, then to another Cay where there are iguanas, and finally to Thunderball Grotto, undoubtedly knocking back rum drinks all the while.  Our hosts did take us to Big Majors, but we skipped the side of the anchorage with the swimming pigs (and their poop) in favor of Cruiser’s beach and quiet.  We did get treated to Thunderball, which is an island that has a cave in the middle of it.  You can snorkel under the rock and then you find yourself in a cavern that’s half underwater and half out of the water (there’s a tiny hole above through which sunlight filters).  It’s full of fish and we’d no sooner arrived than we were snorkeling in this remarkable place.  I expect there’s a better and perhaps illustrated description of Thunderball elsewhere on the blog. 

Because the sizzling of bacon has ceased and now the eggs are cooking, I’ll switch to speed mode.  

Get outta my galley!

Good things: 

* a sky almost completely free of any land-based lights, full of stars, clear and dark and sparkling.  A 7-year old boy with a star chart, curious and able to see in the sky what’s on the chart.

* in the same nighttime darkness, mysterious and beautiful green phosphorescent shapes.  Big Jim thinks they are jellyfish and they were vaguely jellyfish sized, with an eerie green light that spun, twisted, and dissolved.  They surrounded us for about fifteen minutes, drifting on the strong current, and then were gone. 

* The mayor of Gaulin paid us four visits.  On the first, we shared our bacon with him.  On the second, he brought us a sympathy lobster.  On the third, he brought us cold beer, and on the fourth, another lobster.  He also stayed for stories and was as generous with advice as he was with delicacies. 

* Big Jim’s birthday included two spotted eagle rays and a molten chocolate cake.

* Moss and Eliot have invented a board game that gets more elaborate with every hour they spend together, and it delights them. 

*there are more good things but breakfast is imminent so I must leave them to your imagination. 

* Boat-baked bread is delicious. 

Ray and Jack again.

Not-so-good things: 

* We failed to catch the largest Mahi in the world when we made our passage on Friday, even after following the mayor’s advice AND cutting through a school of leaping fish.  We were SO READY: I had the cheap vodka in the squirt bottle and the kids were holding the cockpit cushions, ready to throw them below so we could bring the fish aboard and do the bloody job of killing it.  But we remained fishless.

* We failed to catch ANY lobsters in and around Gaulin and Sampson’s, even though we’re sure there are many lurking and laughing at us.  Hence the sympathy lobsters.  (They tasted delicious, even though I expect there’s a special flavor to a lobster caught oneself). 

* Solar panel failure.  One of the solar panels has stopped working, and there’s an elaborate logic game of trying to figure out where a US shipper can send the panel to, and then how to get it to a port that will make sense given the cruising plan.  I think the solution will involve shipping it to us when we’re back in the US, and we’ll send it either to someplace called “Doughboy’s” or to somewhere called “Top and Bottom”.  But we’ve considered variations that involve Pinky, Jeff, or even possibly Chubby, at ports ranging from Fort Lauderdale to Staniel Cay to Georgetown.  It may be necessary to unplug the electric toothbrush if the power situation gets dire.  

*Jonathan had a nasty knife cut on his second favorite pointy finger that has required both Big Jim and Ellen to supervise dressing and the changing of dressings, and to issue medical instructions (largely ignored by Jonathan).  Jonathan’s healing, but it did make me see how careful you need to be around here.  Everything is fine, but should things be un-fine, it would be a matter of a couple of hours to Staniel Cay and then an airplane ride to a place where you could get medical treatment.  It feels so civilized and self-sufficient here on board, and it is, but the solar panel and the wound remind me that the safety nets all around us on shore are hours away, and require a fair amount of thinking and planning to get to.  

*Thomas Cay iced tea is only delicious to one adult on board.  In case you have deviant tastes, here is the recipe:  Cold-brewed Lipton tea, lime juice, and bourbon.  Motto: “tastes like paint thinner, but makes you feel like a winner.”  I advise skipping the Lipton and the lime juice, myself. 

* Still waiting on Johnny Depp and that tray of bloody marys.  

Breakfast is served, so that’s all for now.  When we crack the Little Pipe Cay’s password, we’ll post this….

Jonathan and Jim trying to decide if swimming with the sharks is prudent.

It was. This is what they saw.

And this.

Ellen isn’t the only one who can take a decent selfie.

Staniel Cay, once again

Guess what? More free wifi, that’s what.

This morning when we made our way on deck we saw these two big cats scooting past us with their asymmetricals flying. That was all the inspiration we needed. 

These early risers provided us with incentive to get moving.

So Ellen hoisted anchor, we set sail and had a magnificent run from Galliot Cay (where we passed a very pleasant night at anchor (although things got a little rocky around 4am when wind and tide conspired against us for a little while)) to Staniel Cay. Flew the asymmetrical the whole way from Galliot to Harvey Cay, about 17 miles. Days like today are one of the reasons we are on this adventure. Perfect sailing. Perfect. Sailing. Perfect.

Heaven on earth.

(Here are the thrilling details: we averaged over 6 knots (which is pretty good for a comfy cruising boat of only 36’) and occasionally screamed along at more than 7 knots. That’s a big deal until you stop and realize that now that she is out of her wheelchair, even my mother-in-law could hobble along faster than we were sailing.)

The water was actually a little cool this morning. Yesterday we saw 78 degrees…

Anchored in a new spot for us here in Staniel Cay. We are so close to the Staniel Cay Yacht Club we can pick up their wifi. (Remember, the password is guest1234.) Also because we were unsure if we could get the outboard running in time to collect Jim, Sherry, and Eliot at the airport tomorrow morning, we anchored super close to the Staniel Cay beach, figuring we could row ashore if necessary.

Not necessary.

With help from Ellen and Moss I pulled the carburetor off the outboard again (it’s really a straightforward process (just need a screwdriver and a 10mm socket) and a super simple carb once you get to know it) and gave it another cleaning. The Nissan NS 5B gurus online all advocate treating carburetor problems with a thorough cleaning that includes blasting the thing clear with compressed air. I realized that we actually have a tank of compressed air on board: the SCUBA tank I pulled off the seafloor the last time we were in Staniel Cay. (Good thing I didn’t sell it to Davey on Barefoot II for the $15 he offered me last week.)

This is the greasy, rotten, worthless…oh wait, it works now. Never mind.

Blasted the carburetor. Reinstalled it. And we are back in business. Celebrated by running to shore and picking up some groceries. Even if the outboard doesn’t start tomorrow morning, I’m calling this a successful repair.

Also, check this out: after we anchored today I was making lunch (ok, just ramen, but still) and Ellen jumped in the water to check out the anchor (because there are some corally rocks about 150’ off our stern). She took a look at the fuzzy bottom of Cupcake and started scraping. Then Moss ate her lunch and jumped in to scrub as well. So I was alone on board, eating my lunch, while the girls cleaned the hull. That is evidence of a life well lived.

The cleaning party broke up when a nurse shark swam within a foot of Ellen (who, oblivious to mortal peril, was so focused on the scraping). Moss announced the shark’s presence and everyone clambered back aboard the mother ship.

Bonus post

Now that we are away from Georgetown and the marina (both lots of fun) we are back on our own in quiet Exuma anchorages. That situation means afternoons are calmer and quieter. So I figured I would reward all three of our loyal readers with a bonus posting today.

We had another splendid day. The sun was bright and hot, the water is clear and warm. After filling up the diesel tank on our way out of the marina we headed northwest on the Exuma Sound and hoisted the asymmetrical sail. The wind was light so we didn’t move very fast, but we thoroughly enjoyed the peace and quiet.

Ultimately the GPS told us if we maintained our stately pace, the arrival at the anchorage wouldn’t happen until something like 4am. Not ideal. So we motorsailed the remainder of the day. Once again we pulled fishing lines behind us but caught nothing. Hope springs eternal.

Some time in the afternoon I was just about to read in the shade the headsail cast on the bow when Ellen spotted a plume of black smoke coming from a boat about five miles farther out to sea. We radioed to see if they were in distress, all the while watching the plume become an obvious fire aboard the sailboat. Nobody answered so we altered course to see if there was anything we could do to assist. 

As we approached, we could see someone in a dinghy near the boat which was fully engulfed in flames. The smoke got thicker and thicker, even several miles away we could make out the flames coming from the boat. At some point the mast came down. In the meantime, another sailboat diverted course and followed us east. But a big power yacht sent its go-fast tender to the scene and at 40 mph+ he arrived well before we were closer than a mile away. He radioed that the captain, a singlehander, was unharmed in the dinghy. The tender and its mother ship took the captain aboard but kept their distance from the burning sailboat out of fear that the gas and propane aboard would explode. Our services were not needed so we went back to our course, all the while watching someone’s sailing dream go up in thick ugly black smoke.

In addition to being eagle-eyed, Ellen was very productive during the sail today. She made a big loaf of bread, tortillas, quesadillas, and granola bars. She’s the best.

Shadow of the jib in 9’ of crystal clear water.

She also anchored the boat under sail today. We coasted up to our anchorage under just the jib (you can see its shadow in the picture). At the last minute, Ellen and I furled the jib, then she hustled to the bow, waited for us to coast to a stop, then dropped Pablo to the sandy bottom in 9’. Textbook. And what a gorgeous calm spot. We love the Exumas.

Our anchorage at Galliot Cay is one we’ve wanted to revisit since we were here in 2012 because we remember it as having fantastic snorkeling. We arrived too late this afternoon to check out the snorkeling at the cut (it’s shark hour) but were still early enough to jump in and check the anchor (well set) and the bottom of the boat (nasty…looks like a patchy beard on a high school boy).

Disgusting. Gotta get that cleaned up soon.

Saw a bar jack (caranx ruber) hanging around with a southern sting ray (dasyatis americana). The two of them were together for at least the 20 minutes I spent half-heartedly scrubbing the boat. It’s an example of what the right was worried about when they opposed same-sex marriage. What’s next, interspecies relationships? Slippery slope.

Jack and Ray.

Cruising math problem of the day: the marina charges $0.40/gallon of fresh water (we declined). Our electricity bill for the stay at Emerald Bay was $5.10 and we made 35 gallons of water using that electricity. Was it cost-effective to use their electricity to make our water or should we have just filled our tanks using the marina’s water? Moss knows.

Georgetown wrap-up

Last night we stopped at The Marina at Emerald Bay to do laundry. The marina has a deal where laundry is included in the dockage fee, so we figured that the six loads of laundry we needed to wash (including mattress pads!) would cost us at least $40 at a laundromat and would require a trip in the dinghy across Elizabeth Harbour in Georgetown (a wet, salty ride). So the marina cost seems very reasonable. And the boat is clean as a whistle: we used the shore power to charge batteries, run the vacuum cleaner, charge the toothbrushes, run all the lights and fans, and generally go hog wild with electricity.

Despite the free wifi (which is astonishingly slow), I squandered my time here and did not draft an insightful, thorough, engaging, informative post like I typically do. All you get is this slap-dash submission.

Georgetown was a great time. We fully enjoyed the Cruisers Regatta and ended up staying an extra day so Moss could compete in (and win) the model boat construction and race event.

John, Moss, and Jonathan with Aquamoffin.

She and her pal John from Mojo and Jonathan (excellent name, by the way) from Vivens Aqua built a voodoo catamaran. The boat was rigged with woven palm-frond sails. Ellen had a field day teaching the kids how to weave, and we all pitched in to get Aquamoffin ship shape.

The kids all gathered for the race at the Fruit Bowl. (Side note: the Fruit Bowl is a little protected basin near where many cruisers anchor in Georgetown. It’s named the Fruit Bowl because a handful of moored houseboats are available for rent, each named for a fruit. Mango, Pineapple, Tangerine. You get the idea.)

The variety of junk the cruiser kids lashed, taped, hot-glued together was pretty impressive. But Aquamoffin had size and sail-area on all of them. Moss and her team won, Moss got to take home the prize: a Regatta t-shirt.

Race start.

Sand castle competition entry.

Tug of War. Boys vs. girls. Girls won.

In less salutary news, the dinghy outboard died. I won’t get into the details because they are still irksome to me. But basically, the carburetor is clogged and leaking. (Ironic, isn’t it? The carburetor, at the same time, refuses to pass fuel to the engine but is ready, even eager to dribble fuel everywhere else.) I’ll get it all fixed, I am reasonably certain. I am hopeful I will get it fixed in time to pick up Jim, Sherry, and Eliot at the airport so they don’t need to swim to Cupcake when they arrive on Wednesday.

The accursed outboard (on the right…I’m the one on the left).

(If you’re reading this in time, Jim, see if you can find a carburetor rebuild kit for a Nissan NS 5B engine. It’s not critical but it would probably be a good idea to have one on hand.)

Cruising tip of the day: check to see if your outboard engine comes from the factory with a fuel filter. Because if it doesn’t… Anyway, if like the Nissan we have, it doesn’t come with a fuel filter, you might want to install one. I actually have a fuel filter I brought as a spare, unaware that Nissan didn’t even bother to install one at the factory. I will be installing the filter when I get back to working on that greasy, smoky, unreliable engine later today.)

Beach on the Exuma Sound side of Georgetown.

Dinghy full of supplies from Georgetown: groceries under the dry bag. (Why not in the dry bag? Long story.) Also propane and water and beer we found for just $24/case which is why we got light beer.

Georgetown

The vibe aboard Cupcake is radically different now that we are anchored in Georgetown. This place is crazy – there are more than 270 boats anchored here, many in town for the Cruisers Regatta. Regatta includes some sailboat racing, some volleyball, some kayak racing, some costume parties, some dances, paddle board races, rowboat races, sailing dinghy races, some cookouts, some sand castle competitions, and on and on.

This morning we got towed to the beach by Jennabird because we were operating with an engineless Mr. Flowerpot. The dinghy was de-powered because Moss and John from Mojo were competing in the blind rowboat race. The oarsman (John) was blindfolded while the navigator (Moss) told him where to go. (They were well-suited for their roles.) 

The kids had an excellent chance to do well, but when the dads pushed the dinghy off at the start, we gave too firm a shove and Moss toppled off backwards from her perch on the transom.

In the ensuing chaos, John kept rowing, blindly. Moss came up sputtering and then struck out to swim and catch up with her ride. John figured he was rowing straight and that was why Moss was so quiet. She finally caught up to him, climbed aboard to cheers from the crowd on the beach, and off they went. Alas, they did not win. But there is no doubt they were the crowd favorite.

We are partially provisioned for our next batch of guests. The expectation is that we will stick around for some of the remaining events in Georgetown (invited to race on Mojo, plan on a sand castle entry, and of course lots of kid-boat fun) and then hoof it back up to Staniel Cay in time to meet Jim, Sherry, and Eliot next week. It’s about a 60 mile trip back up the southern Exumas. But with the prevailing winds blowing from the ESE we ought to have a fabulous couple of days sailing to get there.

LEGO rendition of the dinghy mishap.

Busy week

We’ve crossed 24º latitude and are closing in on the Tropic of Cancer. (Landlubbers: look it up on the Internets because the Tropic of Cancer is pretty cool stuff. It’s the highest latitude where the sun is directly overhead at the summer solstice. Between Tropic of Cancer to the north and Tropic of Capricorn to the south, actually. We ought to cross the Tropic of Cancer in March when we head to the Ragged Islands. FYI, the Tropic of Cancer was named by the Greeks, I think.) 

Side note: we traveled something like 57 miles on our very first day in late July when we sailed from Maine to Isles of Shoals. In the two months since we arrived in the Exumas we have traveled 50 miles. We like this pace much much better.

Sailed from that lovely bay just south of Black Point where we spent two nights relaxing, fixing things, and reading, down to Rudder Cay to see some new territory and reconnect with Piper. The sail down was invigorating. We had the mainsail double-reefed and maybe half of the jib rolled out. (Landlubbers: our jib is on a contraption called a roller-fuller which acts like a cheap roll up window shade (except it is neither cheap nor a window shade) and lets us keep the sail furled on the headstay until we need it and unroll as much as is appropriate for the wind conditions. (Landlubbers: the headstay is the heavy wire that runs from the top of the mast to the bow of the boat. That wire, in conjunction with the backstay (which runs from the top of the mast to the back of the boat) and the shrouds (which run from the top of the mast to either side of the boat, and another set from the upper spreader to the sides of the boat, and another set from the lower spreader to the sides of the boat) holds up the mast.))

Crystal clear water. Last night the moon was so bright and the water so clear we could see our anchor in the sand.

The reason we had such little canvas flying is that the wind was up – about 20-22 knots with gusts into the low 30s. If you set the right amount of sail, you can move the boat safely, comfortably, and swiftly. Which is exactly what we did on the reach down to Rudder Cay where we met Piper and another kid boat, Andromedé. The place was lousy with kid boats and because of the weather which held us all there for a while, we anticipated several days of snorkeling and socializing.

We were invited to Piper for sundowners (drinks) but it turned into dinner because the bounty of fish and lobster those guys speared was so great there was enough to feed us. We brought wine and salami to the mix. A good time was had by all.

A good time was not had Monday morning when, during the anchor-raising, Ellen got her hand caught between the chain and the cleat just as a gust of wind pushed the boat back and snapped the chain tight. Torn glove, torn skin, and much blood loss ensued. She cleaned the wound and stayed happy as a lark all day. When we got to the Rudder Cay anchorage Ellen refused to let me take over anchoring duties. Because she is such a tough customer. We are lucky to have her aboard.

Nevertheless, Ellen declined to swim in the afternoon because she did not want her mangled, bloody paw attracting apex-predators. 

Not a lot of room under that keel.

I checked on the anchor alone. The anchor was fine, but boy were we cutting it close on the depth of water under the keel.

On Tuesday we had Finn and Mackie from Piper over for pancake breakfast (and to give their parents Lisa and Tripp a break). The kids stayed and played with Moss until afternoon when we all got into dinghies to explore Darby Cay. We were met by three other kid boats: Andromedé, Mohini, and Bliss. Nine kids swarmed ashore, and we made our way to the ruin of a mansion said to be the former home of a Nazi sympathizer who secretly provisioned German U-boats during World War II. The island was completely overgrown but the buildings still showed their former grandeur. Stone walls were crumbling in the undergrowth, snakes were sunning themselves on the paths. We found a big cave with bats hanging from the ceiling and big spiders in webs on the walls. The island had goats, snakes, spiders, bats, ruins, creepy history…pretty much everything we could hope for. Moss wrote a post about the experience.

Castle tower being reclaimed by the plants.

Despite the fact that Andromedé spotted some brazen lemon sharks in the water earlier, and despite the fact that the afternoon was getting long in the tooth (which means it was shark hour), several of us went into the water to check out the coral and try some spearfishing. I caught nothing because I didn’t bring my spear. Then again, I didn’t get chomped by any sharks either.

We had a leisurely trip down to Leaf Cay near Norman’s Pond Cay. Our mission profile for this part of our adventure is to take things very slowly and explore as much of the Exumas as we can. So rather than scoot down to Georgetown (where, admittedly, we need to be for supplies in advance of Jim, Sherry, and Eliot’s visit on the 27th) we are making a day trip into a week long exploration.

At Leaf I went on an epic spearfishing outing with Piper  and Andromedé. We were out hunting for about four hours, diving some pretty deep coral most of the time. At our first stop I shot at and missed a lobster in about 18’ of water but it retreated into a crevice and I never saw it again. There was a good deal of pressure for me to bring home dinner.

We kept moving from spot to spot, looking for good fish to catch and eat. Saw two enormous grouper, a few barracuda, a bunch of reef fish. The snorkeling was pretty much excellent, I really enjoy the deeper diving, at least at first. After a few hours of repeated dives to 15-20’ I was pretty well worn out. 

Our last stop was at a bunch of coral right at Adderly Cut where we sailed in to our anchorage. I saw what I though were two lobsters in a little hole, took aim, and missed. Turned out they were not two lobsters but instead one enormous monster. It retreated into the hole, I was about to give up and swim away when it emerged from a back entrance to the spot and started crawling across the coral. I shot it quickly and got it back to the dinghy before I completely freaked out.

This is Nala from Andromedé holding the monster lobster.

It weighed around ten pounds. I am still a little bit in shock about the whole episode.

The weather has been remarkably settled lately, so we have been able to explore some little islands which would otherwise make untenable stops for the night. Right now we are anchored off Black Cay which is just to the east of the northern tip of Great Exuma Island. Moss was invited to ride down on Piper from Leaf Cay, so she was our spy – trying to figure out how they catch fish offshore. But Piper outsmarted us by catching nothing so the intel-mission was a bust. However, she is sailing with them again today. Our hopes are high.

Beach at Black Cay. Our girl Cupcake in the background.

Hermit crabs feasting on a coconut.

Our kid boat flotilla expanded from three to four when Andromedé, Cupcake, and Piper were joined by Mojo. The kids kayaked, swam, fished, played LEGOs, and explored Black Cay all day. The adults did pretty much the same thing. In the evening we all got together ashore on the strip of pink sand beach for potluck dinner and roasted marshmallows. This spot is another slice of tropical bliss. 

Ellen looked at the charts and found yet another piece of perfection, Hamlet Cay. So that is where we will head for tonight. It’s under three miles away, not a particularly taxing journey.

Sea snail Ellen spotted near the boat. You can see the trail it left off to the right.

Two mermaids. Word on the street is that the magician David Copperfield commissioned this sculpture of the piano and mermaid (seated) and had it installed near Rudder Cay. Ellen is the mermaid wearing the mask.