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.