Scituate, Massachusetts

This morning we woke up to a beautiful day in Pocasset and set about hoisting anchor to head through the Cape Cod Canal. Somehow we managed to run over a nearby mooring ball and wrap its pick-up line around our prop shaft. Fortunately the tangle didn’t involve mooring chain…we just caught the thin line connecting the mooring line to the float on the end. Even more fortunately, Christophe from Talisa saw our predicament and came over in his dinghy to help. With his assistance we pulled the line and mooring ball out from under a humiliated Cupcake and went on our way without further mishap or the need for me to jump in the water to sort things out.

Once out of Pocasset, we realized we were about an hour early to catch the tide through the Canal, so we anchored in a sheltered spot to enjoy the warm morning, watch the boats on the water, and wait on the tide. At 11:30am we headed into the canal and eventually zipped along at 7 to 8 knots riding the current into Cape Cod Bay.

The wind on the Canal was howling and we were worried the Bay would be unpleasant. However, as we exited the east end of the Canal, winds in Cape Cod Bay were nonexistent. We don’t know where the stiff east breeze had been coming from earlier. But with no wind, we were reduced to motoring the remainder of the way to Scituate. About 20 miles out we hit a fog bank so the afternoon ended with radar getting us safely to harbor where we are now hanging from a mooring.

Matthew, after a very pleasant few days aboard, was collected by his wife and son. The three regular crew members took hot showers - our first showers of any sort since Atlantic City. We all agreed that the showers at the Harbormaster’s Office (which were included in the pricy $50 mooring fee) were among the best of the entire trip.

After a hot meal in town we are all ready for bed. Tomorrow we hope to scoot north to Gloucester before some nasty rainy weather makes its way through the area.

Where is Pocasset?

Here’s a quick update for you all. Cupcake and crew are in Pocasset, Massachusetts. That’s a little town just south of the west end of the Cape Cod Canal.

We picked up our pal Matthew in Block Island after a spirited overnight from Atlantic City, NJ last week. Once again this boat showed us she is a tough and speedy old girl. We’ve been able to sail the majority of the offshore passages, this last one had us scooting along at more than 6.5 knots for the entire night.

When we got to Block Island we were rudely reminded that late May is not summertime in New England. Not remotely. But, given the realities of the climate and season, we’ve had some fine weather and splendid sailing. The run from Block Island to Cuttyhunk, MA was an excellent spinnaker run. The only downside was that since we sailed the whole way, we didn’t run the engine enough to make warm water. Without warm water, nobody is much interested in showering.

Matthew keeps threatening to go swimming, but with temps in the low 50s, he’s getting very little buy-in. Today we had a fine run with wind and tide down Buzzards Bay. By this afternoon when the wind was up we we seeing 8 knots on a broad reach. Here at anchor in Pocasset Harbor the water is a balmy 59. Some locals were swimming, but they just came through a New England winter, were young, and were drunk. We are none of those things.

This evening we are having a pot-luck dinner with Talisa, a kid-boat catamaran Moss met in Georgetown who we caught up with in Block Island.

I’ve still lost my ability to post pictures, so check out the Instagram. (Oh wait, Ellen says we are low on internet, so pictures might need to wait until tomorrow when we are in Scituate enjoying free WiFi.)

Atlantic City

With the continued demise of the laptop and my inability to figure out how to post pictures from my iPad, words will have to suffice. If you want pictures, check out the instagram thingie.

Sunday morning Ellen and I woke up at the perfectly civilized hour of 5am so we could be on our way out of our anchorage at Hampton, Virginia before sunrise. From the heart of the Norfolk/Hampton area to open water one must first cross the mouth of the Chesapeake Bay and then cross the brunnel (that’s an Ellen-term for “bridge-tunnel”) to get to open ocean twenty miles away.

Within three miles of crossing the brunnel we hit a fog bank the likes of which we haven’t seen in more than a year. Fired up the radar and set sail for Cape May, NJ. It soon became clear that we were making fabulous time…sailing a beam reach at 7+ knots all day long…so we altered course a bit to make landfall at Atlantic City, NJ.

We were able to keep up that rapid pace until well after dark when the wind became a little lighter and clocked to come from directly behind the boat. So the second half of the trip became a motorsail. There is a lot of energy in ocean waves, fortunately for us the waves were the proverbial following seas so we got a significant boost for the entire trip.

Crossing the mouth of the Delaware Bay after midnight was a little nerve wracking because we were initially concerned about nasty seas where the ocean swell met the river current (ended up being a non-event…the seas were mild the entire trip) and because we were crossing two major shipping channels. Again, thanks to the radar, we were able to monitor the course of the few big commercial vessels out on the water last night. The closest any came to us was about three miles.

We also monitored the temperature of the ocean water. Watched it steadily drop from the low 70s to the downright frigid 56 here in Atlantic City. For the first time since early in 2017, Cupcake’s floorboards are cold underfoot. I suppose we need to get accustomed to the cold, we heard that the sea temperature at Block Island is 51. No more swimming.

Other than spotting dolphins at the very beginning and very end of the passage, we had a blissfully uneventful ride. Now we are resting up after the tiring night watches. Tomorrow we will check out the AC boardwalk and rest up for our last big offshore jump on Wednesday when we set out for Block Island.

Dismal swamp

After months of faithful service, our laptop has given up. Yesterday I was about to post another thoughtful, entertaining, insightful bit of writing when the computer quit. Today we are at the Dismal Swamp Visitor Center where I thought the free WiFi might help with recovering the system, but alas. No dice.

So I’m hoping we can get the data and pictures off the computer when we are back in Maine. In the meantime, I’ll be posting from my iPad.

Briefly (because I’m still in mourning over the loss of my computer as well as my latest masterpiece), we had a great time in Oriental where we enjoyed a fun evening with Ken and Sharon from Charis. Met a wonderful sailor on a fascinating sailboat Prinses Mia. Check out the article about this neat boat and captain: https://towndock.net/shippingnews/prinses-mia.

We have been slowly making our way northward, enjoying the little anchorages and towns on the ICW in North Carolina. Last night we were in Elizabeth City at the same dock we tied to on our way south last fall. Ellen asked us, if we were suddenly transported back to September 2018 in Elizabeth City, what would we do differently over the course of the year in the Bahamas. We were all happy to realize that there is almost nothing we would change…we are pretty pleased with how the adventure has gone so far. (Well, we would have tried harder to avoid hurricane Florence, but even that event turned out fine for us.)

Ellen and Moss will likely have better photos on their instagram thing. Check out cupcakeafloat over there, the girls are greedy for more followers.

Heres an interesting thing I noticed yesterday: when I shave nowadays, I don’t worry that if I cut myself the blood will attract sharks when I go swimming later on…there’s no swimming likely for a while.

Abacos to Beaufort, NC

Such a busy week!

Last Saturday we were at Green Turtle Cay provisioning for our crossing to the US, preparing to collect Christopher at the airport so we could get ready for our offshore passage.

Turns out his flight was cancelled so we spent the night anchored near the ferry dock at Great Abaco Island waiting for him to arrive on the Sunday morning flight. Once we collected him we headed to Manjack Cay so we would be ready to sail away on Monday morning as soon as the sun rose. We enjoyed a quiet Sunday at Manjack but were all pretty keyed up about the crossing.

Not one, but two ditch bags packed for this passage. See Mom, we are very safe.

Seven years ago we also left the Abacos, headed to Beaufort, North Carolina. We had three friends aboard to help with the passage, the kids flew back to the US with my parents. But for a variety of reasons (inexperience, crew friction, seasickness, bad advice) we spent two nights at sea and only got as far as St. Augustine. So we were curious/nervous about whether or not the trip would work out this time.

For the past few months we’ve been learning more about offshore route planning. There is a lot to take into account: wind, waves, Gulf Stream currents, watch schedules, meal preparation. We also realized that Cupcake doesn’t carry enough diesel to motor for the entire 500 mile trip. So we gave away some of our gasoline in an effort to free up another 5 gallon jerry can. Ultimately we managed to find room for 35 gallons of diesel in jerry cans to supplement the 22 gallons in the tank. Even with the 57 gallons aboard, I was concerned that we might not have enough fuel if we had to motor into wind and seas the entire trip. Of course, we wouldn’t have planned a trip where that would happen, but one must be prepared.

Using both fastseas.com and data from our friends on Charis who were leaving at the same time, we settled on our route, loaded it into the GPS, and went to bed Sunday night.

Monday we awoke at 5am, had breakfast, finished stowing gear on the boat, and hoisted anchor. We were out into the open ocean by 6am on a beautiful reach.

The first day we made great time, sailing fast and comfortably as we made our way (we hoped) towards the currents that would boost us along to North Carolina.

Let me say this about Florida: it is big. Took us much more than a full day to get to a latitude north of the Florida/Georgia border.

The watch schedule we settled on was pretty straightforward. Ellen did not want to stand watch at night. So Christopher and I divided the dark hours between us. Given the choice, I said I would prefer to start my watch at dusk and avoid waking up at midnight or 1am and jumping into action. So that was the deal. After dinner, Christopher went to bed, Ellen and Moss hung around in the cockpit until they got tired (usually around 9pm) then I drove the boat until 12:30 or 1am when Christopher took over. He drove until 4:30 or 5am when Ellen came up to take over until breakfast. For the most part, we were all hanging around the cockpit during the day if we weren’t napping.

My first night watch was a pretty exciting one. Because I wanted to keep an eye on any vessels around us and because I wanted to keep an eye on some squalls up ahead of us, I fired up the radar. As it happens, Charis never really showed up on our radar. They were either just below the horizon or were not presenting a big enough target for the radar to pick out. We were always within VHF range, although sometimes it was a little difficult to make them out. 

In any event, as we closed in on the squalls, I started seeing lots more lightning. But when lightning was not flashing, I could not see anything. Couldn’t see the waves, couldn’t see the clouds, couldn’t see the stars. Couldn’t see anything. It was, as they say, a dark and stormy night.

When we hit the squall line, the wind started howling and pushed the bow about 90 degrees off course. In the dark, the new heading completely disoriented me, confused the autopilot, and freaked out the crew below. Ellen and Christopher quickly suited up in their foul weather gear, poked their heads out into the cockpit, and when I told them I had things well in hand, gratefully retreated below. I spent an exciting hour or two driving in the wind and lashing rain. After my initial disorientation I learned the best way to steer into the seas and was able to keep us on course. The sails were furled well ahead of the weather, so we were motoring in the dark, making only about 3.5 knots of progress. Prior to the squalls, we had been sailing at a comfortable 6 knots. 

Eventually my stint at the wheel was over, the rain stopped, and Christopher took over for the remainder of the night. I went below, soaked to the skin, made him a pot of coffee, crawled into the v-berth and fell asleep immediately.

The next few days were a blur of limitless blue seas and often magnificent sailing. Once we hit the Gulf Stream our speed swiftly increased to 6 then 7 then 8, 9, ultimately touching 11 knots. We were able to tweak our course through the Gulf Stream by watching the fluctuations in the water temperature. If we saw the temperature start to drop lower than 77.5 degrees, we knew we were slipping out of the main current and would adjust the course east or west in an effort to find the warm heart of the stream. 

Helping transfer diesel into the tank while offshore.

The days have blended together in my memory (remember, I never got a solid 8 hours of sleep at a clip) but I do know we had at least 10-15 hours of gorgeous sailing along at at least 8 knots. That speed really helps eat up the miles. We figure we sailed between 60 and 75% of the time, only using 17 gallons of fuel as we motored.

Although we hoped for a three night trip, ultimately we realized as we approached Beaufort that our speed over the previous day would have us arriving at the inlet in the dark. So we did something we have never had to do before: we intentionally slowed down.

Our last half day we reduced sail so we would slow the boat enough to have us make landfall at sunrise. Unfortunately, as we approached Beaufort the last 25 miles or so had us in a very uncomfortable rolly, choppy sea.

Beaufort, NC skyline.

The sun rose, we headed into the inlet, and started up the brown ICW water towards Oriental, NC.

Denied.

Our buddy Matthew spotted us on the Town Dock webcam in Oriental.

Moss brought down the Bahamas courtesy flag and I used the US Customs and Immigration application on my iPhone to check us into the country. The first time I did it, we were denied entry because I was so exhausted I skipped a step. The very helpful Customs agent called me and explained what to do, and we are now allowed to remain in the country. Hooray!

When we got to Oriental, it was a very different town from the one we left last September. The devastation from Hurricane Florence has largely been cleaned up. Waiting for us as we tied up at the Town Dock were Harry and Alicia from Jennabird. Oriental is their home port and they are in town for the weekend. Charis arrived minutes behind us, we saw Seaquel who we met in Hope Town, and then Mariposa came along and shouted “Hello Cupcake! We heard you on the radio in Georgetown!” What a wonderful landfall.

Cupcake’s entire crew was utterly exhausted. I hadn’t really done more than catnap in 24 hours (thank you Red Bull). But we were so happy to see Jennabird that we hung out with them, had a delicious lunch, and then moved the boat to a free slip they scored for us at their marina. That meant long, hot showers. Our first shoreside showers since February. Aaah. And Whirly-Pop popcorn. And bourbon. And good company. And finally a long peaceful night’s sleep.

So I’m looking back at this post and realize that I am still a little fried, definitely rambling. I’ll wrap things up by saying we could not have had better crew than Christopher. He integrated into life aboard seamlessly, was always in good spirits, is a skilled sailor, excellent company, and great friend.

That’s much better.

We were a little overwhelmed by the bounty at an American grocery store. (Piggly Wiggly in this instance.)

Oriental is a town that takes care of its sailors. Piggly Wiggly will pick you up at the dock, take you to the store, and then take you back to the dock for free. We love Oriental, NC.

We found this collectible in the backseat of Harry and Alicia’s car! (That’s Christopher on the right, Ellen in the middle, and some boat kid on the left.)

Saw this old girl tied up at the marina.

This is what 96 hours offshore does to Moss’ usually neat and tidy cabin.

Just in case you forgot we are in the South.

I’ll bet there’s quite a story here.

Sad sailor lowering the Bahamas courtesy flag.

Five and a half months of loyal flapping. Check out how it looked back in February 2018.

Morning surprises

The picture-taking has slowed dramatically since the demise of our waterproof, shockproof little camera. It was never a particularly good camera, and it seems the issue is the battery. But we still miss it, particularly because I am not too thrilled to be carrying my phone around in this harsh marine environment just to document this voyage for you armchair Magellans.

RIP, you crummy camera.

Today began with two surprises. This post talks about three. The first was when Naomi from Turbulence came over on her paddle board to collect Moss for a ride. Naomi and her sister Siena gave Moss paddle board lessons yesterday and now Moss wants a board of her own. Thanks a lot guys.

Turbulence is a boat we met about a week ago, there are three kids aboard, all within the age-range sweet-spot (9 to 13) so Moss has had some nice kids to play with. 

After the paddle board action, Turbulence  headed out. They are moving south, we are moving north. (More on that later, read on.)

The other surprise this morning was the dying squid we found in the cockpit. We have no idea how it got there…did not know the little guys could jump that high, it’s unlikely it was dropped by a bird because we had all our sun canvas in place and the squid wasn’t mangled. When we spotted it (and thank goodness I didn’t find it by stepping on it in the dark…) we could see its coloration changing. Spots were forming and fading under its skin. Ellen (the brave one aboard) picked it up and tossed it back into the water to see if it would revive. It did not. Hopefully one of the big green turtles in the bay will find it and gobble it up. If turtles even eat squid. 

Squid visitor.

Earlier this week we took all our stores out from under the floorboards to see what was left. Since we are leaving the Bahamas in a matter of days, (more on that later, read on) there’s no need to stockpile. Soon we will be back in the bosom of America where consumers can get whatever their hearts desire. We will have Amazon deliver ice cream sundaes by drone. They’ve gotten that technology squared away over these past 9 months, right?

When we pulled up one of the boards we found a wonderful surprise: nearly a case of beer we had completely forgotten about!

Treasure trove!

Our pal Christopher arrives this afternoon, so we will be fetching him at Treasure Cay in a couple of hours. Then we will hang around White Sound for the night, enjoying the pool one last time, before heading to Manjack Cay to relax on Sunday. We need to relax on Sunday because the weather forecast indicates that Monday morning is the optimal time for our ride up to Beaufort. Starting to get antsy to be off. The waiting is a little exhausting. Once we are at sea, we will more or less be committed to the ride and can stop worrying about it and just do it.

White Sound sunset.

Green Turtle Cay

For the past few days we have been starting to get ready for the crossing back to the US. The plan is for our pal Christopher to arrive here in the Abacos on May 4. If we have a fabulous weather window, we will set sail early on May 5, bound for Beaufort, North Carolina. It’s a 450 mile straight shot to the north and should take us somewhere in the neighborhood of three and a half days (three nights) at sea.

If the weather is uncooperative, we will enjoy ourselves island hopping to the north of the Abacos until we have a forecast we like. 

Preparations include provisioning for the days (and nights) at sea. Ellen wants to be able to quickly, easily, and safely feed us. If the weather is too bouncy, cooking can be more of a chore than she is eager to take on. Of course, we will do everything we can to ensure we sail in as calm weather as possible.

One tool we are using to plan the passage is a website/app called fastseas.com. It is a weather routing tool that takes wind, waves, boat capabilities, and Gulf Stream location into account and then provides the fastest route to the destination.

Here’s the latest run. I get four free tries each month so I’ll do another one tomorrow and then a few in May before we leave. Another wonderful feature of the program is it lets me upload the route directly to my GPS. The blue line is the straight line to the destination, the yellow is the predicted fastest route. The swirly arrow things are wind on the day I ran the simulation.

Initially we assumed it would be fastest to sail west-northwest for about 24 hours until we hit the heart of the Gulf Stream, and then ride that current northward to Beaufort. But fastseas has convinced us that it is speedier to simply head north and then play the currents and eddies on the east of the Stream. So we won’t get any big 4 knot boosts, but we ought to have at least a little help from the current at the edge.

In any event, as the designated optimist aboard, I was thrilled when one of the models I ran predicted a passage of only two days and twenty hours a few weeks ago. I doubt we will have that swift of a trip, but I am encouraged to note that none of the models have shown a trip of more than three nights.

Nevertheless, three nights at sea is a long long time for Cupcake. No land in sight, no radio communication with anyone else, no internet, no nothing. Thank goodness for Christopher!

Before I went to the trouble of making a sign I think I would just find my chainsaw and nip the problem in the bud, so to speak.

Other preparation has included some preventative maintenance. I cleaned the sea strainer that provides clear sea water to cool the engine. I changed the impeller that moves that cool water through the engine. Tomorrow we will clean the hull and change all the zincs for the last time on this trip. (No way am I jumping in the water on the ICW, and I doubt the water in New England will be warm enough for maintenance or recreational swimming by the time we get there.)

In broad strokes, the plan is to get to Beaufort before mid-May. To Norfolk by the following week, and NYC or Block Island before the beginning of June. That puts us back home some time in the early part of June.

I also had AT&T un-suspend my US cell phone number starting May 7. So all of you who have been itching to call me can do so after then. 

Wow, it seems like just about a month ago that we were making the preparations to turn off the US phone and cross to Bimini. This voyage has both flown by and taken a lifetime. 

Spokeshave.

Recent casualty: our crummy camera battery no longer holds a charge. So no more underwater shots. Just whatever we remember to take with the cell phone.

Tomorrow is Moss’ birthday (eleven). So today we are having a little get-together with Karen and Paul from Satagraco. And the crew from Turbulence. They are a family of six (four kids between nine and thirteen, yikes!) from Montreal living aboard a Catalina 36 that is anchored near us here at White Sound on Green Turtle Cay. Tomorrow we are planning on heading up to Manjack Cay and perhaps Powell Cay with them for the week before we scoot back to Treasure Cay to pick up Christopher at the airport.

Template for the half-hulls.

Last week we sailed back down to Man O War Cay to buy souvenirs. Andy Albury is a craftsman who makes beautiful half-hull models of some of the local sailboats. We used the last of our cash to pick up some of his work. Now the trick will be to get it all home safely.

Half-hull model.

On our way back to Green Turtle Cay we stopped at Leaf Cay to snorkel the reef. We had limited expectations, being the Exuma-snorkeling-snobs that we are. But the reef turned out to be a lovely spot. We saw plenty of fish life, including a pair of Caribbean Reef Squid. Check out Ellen’s Instagram account to see some pictures of them she stole from the Internet.

On our way home from the world-famous Nipper’s bar. (It’s really just another beach bar, but still.)

You can rent these crazy things…they are like a cross between a Rascal scooter and a submarine.

We have been enjoying the Bluff House Marina pool (and bar) the past few days. Karen and Paul have said we can call ourselves their guests if we need to, but so far nobody seems to bat an eye when we come in and poach the wifi and the pool. This afternoon I may try to liberate a book from the cruisers’ library because I just finished reading Neal Stephenson’s Anathema. It was excellent. In fact, the only problem was that it kept me upon reading until 3am two nights in a row.

Wharf rats.

Yesterday, right here in the harbor, we saw a pair of dolphin parents swimming by with their baby dolphin. I need to remind myself that this sort of wildlife sighting (in addition to the myriad turtles and sharks and rays we are treated to on a daily basis) is not common back at home so we need to savor it while we can.

That’s a lot of stickers.

Family selfie. You can’t tell from this picture, but Moss has grown about three inches this year.

That’s ketchup on Ellen’s face, she has been wolfing down French fries.

Passover fun

The word from the Abacos is “kid.” As in “kid boat” that we met and played with for a few days.

After some time at Black Sound where we hid from some west wind, we took the opportunity to move to lovely Manjack Cay. At Manjack we took Mr. Flowerpot up a channel in the mangroves and looked for turtles. Saw plenty of turtles, but more importantly we met an Israeli family exploring in their dinghy as well. They were staffed with not one, but a pair of nine-year-olds. Twins. Said hello to them and were invited to visit their boat the next day. Which we did.

When we left the Israelis on Con el Viento post-visit, we dinghied back to the nearby bay where Cupcake lay at anchor. On the way Ellen insisted we visit the only other boat in the bay. They were a big Beneteau 42 charter boat. We chatted briefly and then were invited to have drinks with them. Cruisers typically have limited resources. We know Cupcake is nearly out of beer and bourbon. There have been no chips aboard since December, no pistachio nuts since February. I can’t remember the last time I ate a cracker. So we were reluctant to drink up the booze on the Beneteau until the crew reminded us that they were only aboard for another week and if we didn’t help polish off the supplies, they would all go to waste.

We did not need another invitation. Our hosts were British, so we had the singular pleasure of drinking gin and tonics mixed by authentic Brits. Marvelous. Then they invited us to stay for dinner. It was a super pleasant evening passed in the company of some interesting, friendly sailors.

Over the next few days we enjoyed many hours hanging around with the crew of Con el Viento. They are the first Jews we met since setting sail last year, and just in time for Passover. So we all pitched in for a seder aboard their boat. Actually, while Moss played with the twins aboard Con el Viento, Ellen and I returned to Cupcake to make some noise with the pots and pans. Those of you enjoying a week of matzoh should know that in this climate, a box of matzoh goes stale and soggy in well under an hour. Matzoh ball soup, on the other hand, is always a welcome and tasty treat.

Step 1.

Step 2.

Finished product.

Salad, chicken…

and the aftermath.

Transporting the food to Con el Viento. Look at Ellen’s pretty dress. I’m wearing a button-down shirt, all dressed up.

We walked through town with Con el Viento, hung out at the pool with them, and enjoyed their company aboard their catamaran. Simon wanted me to ask them how they could have elected a racist, corrupt, right winger to lead their country. I decided it would be hypocritical of any American to broach the subject.

After Con el Viento headed on their way to Florida we checked out White Sound at Green Turtle Cay and found it to be an easy, pretty, protected anchorage. Dinghy access is super, and it is just a short walk to a beach bar with happy hour rum drink specials and free wifi. We have not tried sneaking into the pool at the Bluff House Marina, but think we can do it. Paradise.

Moss hanging out in New Plymouth on Green Turtle Cay.

Today we headed back south through the Whale Cay Passage, intending to take advantage of what looks like a week of calm weather. We wanted to explore Great Guana Cay (where we are currently anchored) before heading north of the Whale for the last week or so before we collect our pal Christopher and sail to North Carolina. That’s May 4, a lifetime from now.

In the meantime, we may have dodged our last significant cold front (if the weather reports are to be believed). Last weekend a front blew through that was predicted to bring squalls with winds over 40 knots. We certainly got more than enough wind and rain. But Cupcake was secure in Black Sound, so the weather was nothing more than an interesting and wet diversion.

Maintenance update: installed the new alternator (thanks Masons!) and our charging issue is resolved.

Risky Business indeed.

Tropic Breeze came to the dock to deliver fuel. To get the fuel to the tanks ashore, first the crew runs a line from boat to shore, then they haul a big hose along the line. Cruising tip of the day: never take your boat between the fuel tanker and the dock, just in case the hose is in the water.

Ellen really doesn’t look particularly tranquil. Kind of nutty, actually.

She doesn’t look tranquil either.

Dead golf cart.

Dead crab.

Ooh, aah.

Book search

This quick post has nothing much to do with our sailing trip. If you want that kind of stuff, check out the post Moss wrote about our turtle hunting trip yesterday.

For decades I’ve had a vague memory of a science fiction story I read when I was a kid. I remembered only one scene: something about an abandoned subway station on an uninhabited planet. That’s it. So for years I searched and tried to determine who wrote the story and what it is titled.

Well yesterday I found it, finally. It’s an Arthur C. Clarke book called The City and the Stars. I located the book online and downloaded a copy. It was quite a thrill reading this thing that I had begun thinking I’d imagined. As far as I can tell, when I first read the book, I never got past the part about the subway (which was pretty cool and definitely stuck in my memory). Maybe I started the book at the library but never checked it out, maybe I borrowed a copy and had to return it before I could finish. In any event, the story turned out to be ok…started strong and finished medium. Nevertheless it was quite a thrill to find the book after what has to be more than 35 years.

Now I’m on the hunt for another story I read as a kid. This one is about a planet with a poisonous sun that ages people in a matter of days. I think it is by Robert Heinlein. 

Cruising tip of the day: never give up.

Hope Town, Man O War, Green Turtle Cay

Hope Town in the Abacos is an interesting place. First, it is completely different from the sort of spots we’ve enjoyed for the past four months. The Exumas, while providing the clearest water, the best snorkeling, the sandiest anchorages, the most varied sea life we’ve seen, also have pretty meager offerings ashore. 

This is not an alley or one-way street. It is a two way road in Hope Town.

On our charts, island after island will typically have a note saying something like “Resort planned. Development stalled.” The settlements are tiny, sleepy, and somewhat second-world in character. Lots of cinderblock construction, lots of hurricane damaged buildings, surprising amounts of trash lying about, not a great deal of industry or commerce in evidence. In contrast to the Exumas, Hope Town and other islands in the Abacos, were settled by Loyalists escaping the aftermath of the American Revolution, so there is more of a colonial Caribbean, brightly colored, Victorian air to the place.

When is the last time any of you saw a Mini Moke? Perfect for those narrow streets.

Moss walking the Hope Town dinghy dock.

Hope Town.

Hope Town Harbour is a small basin with outstanding weather protection. It is also jammed with moored boats. We have not been in a harbor with closely placed moorings since Scituate, Massachusetts but even there the boats were half as densely packed together.

Because we needed to do some laundry and wanted to stay in a quiet spot to ride out some squally weather, we rented a mooring for two nights. At just $20/night, the moorings are among the best bargains of the trip to this point.

We enjoyed little Hope Town, particularly the coffee shop, the tiny narrow streets, the flowers, the birds, the locals, the friendly friendly cruisers, and the lighthouse.

Door knob on the lighthouse.

That Hope Town lighthouse, built in 1936, is the oldest mechanical, kerosene-lit one in the world. The mechanism was built around 1900 and first used in a different spot, then moved to Hope Town. In fact, it is the last functioning one of its kind. Basically it is a gigantic rotating Coleman lantern floating on a 1,200 pound pool of mercury. The 3.5 ton light mechanism floats on the mercury so its rotation (once every 15 seconds) is smooth and low-friction. The works that run the rotation need to be wound every two hours through the night. The weights running the clockworks descend about fifty feet from the top of the tower down the inside of a very well-greased tube that also acts as the center of the spiral staircase. The whole operation is pretty neat.

Hope Town Harbour from the top of the lighthouse.

After Hope Town we moved a little farther north to Man O War Cay for a night at anchor off a cove on the northwest side of the cay. Man O War is another charming little spot. Narrow lanes,  golf cart traffic, and a pretty bustling (by Bahamian standards) boatbuilding industry. We scored some ice cream, checked out a center console gnat boat being finished in its mold, and picked up another coconut. 

We decided there was not nearly enough coconut in our lives so far this trip. Most of the palms in the Exumas are the non-coconut variety. (Who knew such a thing existed?) But there were plenty on Lee Stocking Island. And the Abacos are covered with the things. 

Albury Boats.

Delicious coconut.

I have gotten to the point where I can open a coconut in about 15 minutes. It’s a messy proposition on board, but that’s where my coconut-opening tools are kept. I use a hacksaw to make a cut through the husk, then I pry the husk off with a flathead screwdriver. Yesterday, however, I opened a coconut on the beach using just a piece of shell and my bare hands. I’ve completely switched from hunter to gatherer at this point in the trip.

As we landed on the beach at Man O War, we ran across friends (Ken and Sharon from Charis) we met way back when we were in St. Augustine, Florida. They’ve spent their winter up here in the Abacos on their boat and may head to Beaufort with us in the coming weeks. 

Moss sat down for just a second and this kitty jumped right into her lap.

Because the anchorage was a little rocky in the southwest winds, we didn’t want to spend a second night at Man O War. Instead we decided to take the favorable weather to cross the Whale Passage (a notoriously difficult cut we needed to negotiate in order to make it to the smaller, more remote islands of the northern Abacos). 

So now we are moored in Black Sound at Green Turtle Cay. The mooring is the cheapest we have ever found – just $11/night. That includes the use of a saltwater pool and access to the nastiest showers we’ve seen all trip. (When I say they are nasty showers, I don’t really mean it in a judgmental way. Somewhere has to have the nicest showers (St. John’s Marina near Charleston) so somewhere else has to have the worst. This happens to be the place.)

Green Turtle Cay is a sweet little island. The town is convenient and a mix of cruiser-useful (little grocery store, hardware store, restaurants) and local-residential (churches, playgrounds, houses, schools). 

WWJD? He would pay attention in English class.

Lets talk about proofreading..

Last night we met up with Karen and Paul from Satagraco who we met way way back in New Bern during Hurricane Florence. They were staying at the same marina with us and were a huge help (and comfort) as we prepared for the storm and then got things back together afterwards. 

In any event, they keep their boat here at Green Turtle and we all went out for dinner yesterday. It is such a treat to spend time with them here in paradise, rather than in storm-ravaged New Bern. 

OMG! I’m just like those people on Facebook who post pictures of their food! Thumbs up if you like the mahi dinner Ellen made! Yum! LOL!

It’s been a while. Here’s another selfie of Ellen.