Decision Time

  Rosie and I were definitely disappointed in Rum Cay and Port Nelson, and certainly in Sumner Point Marina. We had traveled over 35 miles in rough seas, believing the guidebooks about everything that Rum Cay had to offer. What if we traveled another 35 miles to Cockburn in San Salvador, only to be disappointed again? There is no anchorages around San Salvador unless the wind is coming from the east, which it usually is, but there are no guarantees. When we travel to any island, I usually have anchorages in mind for any weather situation, because you never know.

  At issue was also the current wind situation. Winds were continuing from the east, which would put us on a beam sea heading to San Salvador, something that is not pleasant at all. We made a decision to head back to Long Island at the crack of dawn, and take advantage of a following sea to scoot us along. Our decision was a fortuitous one.

  At 6 A.M. on Monday morning Rosie had the coffee going and I was untying our lines. The sun was just coming over the horizon as we made our way through the maze of coral heads back out to our route west to Cape Santa Maria.

  We hadn't had much experience with a following sea since we began our adventure, and what we soon learned was that unless one wanted to fight the helm all day, the boat will do better if it is going faster than the waves, otherwise the waves overtake the vessel, pushing the stern around as they gain purchase on the rudders. As the stern tries to come around, one can steer "into the skid" as one does when sliding on ice. Real havoc occurs when a vessel is running in a surf into an inlet and the waves push the vessel sideways. In a big enough surf, this is when the boat will broach and possibly roll over. The seas we were in were not big enough to roll us over, but I quickly tired of fighting the wheel. This is where autopilot comes in handy.

  But we don't have autopilot, but we do have horsepower, so I put Swing Set on plane and we ran along with the waves, gently coasting over them with no spray on us at all. Until the temperature alarm on the port engine sounded.

  I really wasn't taken by surprise because when we are running at our cruising speed of 25 miles per hour, I always have a close eye on the temperature gauges. I had replaced the raw water pump on the starboard engine and we were on borrowed time with the impeller on the port engine and now payment was due. I slowed us down to 1500 RPMs, not a very efficient speed, but the added miles per hour gave me better steering, but still not enough to stay ahead of the waves coming at our stern quarter. So I fought the wheel for three hours back to Long Island until we rounded the tip of the island and happily found ourselves back in Calabash Bay and Cape Santa Maria Resort. 
  

Rum Cay

  On the northern tip of Long Island is Cape Santa Maria and Calabash Bay. We pulled into Calabash Bay, sheltered from the prevailing easterly winds, and lined with some nice homes, a first rate resort, and a fine white beach. We dropped the dinghy in and went exploring.

  A creek that leads inland caught my eye and we entered a narrow spot in the reef that guards the entrance to a shallow bay that eventually narrows down to a creek that runs down to Joe Sound, and then back into the southern end of Calabash Bay. Had the tide been up, we could have taken the dinghy around Galliot Cay, but we were only able to cruise around in the deeper water of the bay, but we saw sting rays and one nurse shark.

  We ran along the beach that fronts the Cape Santa Maria Beach Resort where there were a handful of summer tourists taking advantage of a sunny day. One such tourist was a lone female wearing a skimpy bikini. I felt it necessary to ask her a few questions about the resort.

  "Dana", as she introduced herself, was on vacation with her husband. It was the second time that they had visited the resort and they really like it. Her accent sounded familiar, so I asked her where she was from, and she said her and her husband lived in Springfield, Missouri, practically next door neighbors from where we used to live if you consider our current location.

  We learned some things about the resort, and were getting the impression that it was a quiet, family type resort, and a bit upscale. Not really a place we are attracted to. We're from a different part of Missouri.

  We went back to the boat and made a nice dinner, with plans to stay in Calabash Bay for a couple more days, but while looking at the charts the next morning, i suggested to Rosie that we take advantage of some calmer weather and head east to Rum Cay, and then on to San Salvador. Rosie liked the idea, and our second cup of coffee was taken at the helm, on our way around Cape Santa Maria, the northern tip of Long Island.

  We were soon out in the Atlantic Ocean, hitting three footers head on until we arrived on the lee side of Rum Cay, three hours later. It was a fairly rough ride, but we kept our speed down to lessen the impact with the head-on waves, so our movement was more see saw than side to side.

  Like many of the islands east of The Exumas, and Long Island, Rum Cay doesn't have many protected anchorages. We were headed to the only marina on the island, Sumner Point Marina, on the southeastern end of Rum Cay at the town of Port Nelson. The southern route along Rum Cay is shallow, and lined with reefs. Coral heads are numerous, but a zig zag course is marked into the small entrance to Sumner Point Marina.

  I hailed the marina on the radio and got no response, not really unexpected because it was a Sunday after all, and the marina is not officially open for business. In fact, there is no charge for slips, water is free when they have it, but there is no electricity. Unfortunately, the place is also a major dump.

  There were a handful of boats tied up, mostly in disrepair, but there were two very expensive sport fishing boats tied up, offering some optimism to the situation. We circled around to the back end of the marina basin where there was one nicer home with another big sport fishing boat at a dock out front. The front drive also was home to some dump trucks, two bulldozers, and an earth moving machine. A nice view if your appreciation is only what equipment like that costs.

  We were motoring past the marina again, trying to decide where to tied up our boat, when three Bahamians came down to the dock to direct us into a slip. "Billy", as one of them was named, was directing us into a space on the dock where I had already decided we were going to tie up anyway, at least until someone complained. It appeared that things were going to work out.

  With the wind blowing us away from the approach alongside the pier, Rosie tossed Billy a line and he helped pull us in. Another fella, "Scoobie", took a stern line. They both proceeded to tie us tight to the closest piling, leaving no slack for the ebbing tide. Both Billy and Scoobie knew nothing about tying up a boat, but they, and their third cohort, "Hartley", were obvious in their desire for a tip, but they didn't push the issue. Good thing.

  I let them know that we would come see them if we needed anything else, and then we set to work tying the boat up for real. I had a discussion with Rosie about relinquishing lines to dockhands; it's OK to toss a line if the situation requires it, but the responsibility of the line stays with Rosie, whether she is securing the line herself, or directing someone else to do it.

  Once Swing Set was secure, I saw two crew members of the larger sport fishing boat out washing down the decks, so I went over to ask them some questions. They had been at the marina for a day and had gone into the town of Port Nelson where they said that there wasn't much there. They had gone to a sand bar, which was open on a Sunday, by the way, but they said it wasn't much either. They also said that they were chased by two feral dogs when they were in town and that it may not be a good idea to take Holly.

  I returned to the boat and made my report to Rosie. We decided to get showers and walk the half mile to town, but leave Holly to guard the boat. Locked up, of course.

  Our walk to the town of Port Nelson was hot and dusty along a gravel road. Trash and debris lined the roadside, and when we finally reached some buildings, we wondered if we had made a wrong turn. Nothing was open, and the one person we saw barely looked at us, let alone gave us the impression that he would have welcomed any questions.

  We took a side road back toward the beach and passed a woman on her porch feeding some birds. We asked her about Kaye's Place and she said that we had passed it, "just over da bridge", but there was a party and the place was closed. We thanked her and decided to just go back to the boat and have dinner. We passed Kaye's Place and saw that it was just a house, actually appeared to be abandoned, but had a few rusty chairs under a big tree, all for your dining pleasure.

  Hartley came by on his four wheeler on our walk back to the marina and asked us if we wanted a ride. I took a long look at the dusty road, another look at the rusty luggage rack on the back of his Honda, and declined his generous offer. He asked at least twice if we were sure we didn't want a ride. If I was sure then, one look at the numerous scars on Hartley's face told me that he might not be the best driver on Rum Cay. It appeared that his head may have had some close encounters with a palm tree or two.

  Arriving back at the marina, we heard what I knew was dogs barking and running towards us, actually snarling, and galloping was more like it. Remembering the tale of the feral dogs chasing the crew members of the sport fishing boat, I reeled around and yelled "GIT!" As I was reaching for my knife, I yelled again, "Git on outa here!", and those two dogs spun around and ran off from where they came from. Rosie said she almost had a heart attack.

  As we stepped onto the dock and were rinsing the road dust off our feet, a young woman walked over and introduced herself as "Gro", the owner of the two dogs. She apologized for their rude behavior, and I told her that apologies were not warranted, but she was lucky I didn't stab either one of her pets in our defense.

  I calmed down some and we learned that Gro was running the marina with her boyfriend Bobby. She was from Norway, which was interesting in itself, but she went on to tell us about the feud between Bobby and the owner of the earth moving equipment who was trying to run them out of business. He was the "enemy".

  We know there is two sides to every story, but you have to wonder about folks whose business plan is to not charge customers for dockage for a whole season, just to piss off the neighbors.

  We also found out that Billy, Scoobie, and Hartley don't work at the marina, or have anything to do with it actually, but I suspect that they may have more business sense than either Bobby or Gro.

  We retreated to the boat and we saw the rest of the gang that live at the big house adjacent to the marina. Had this been thirty years ago we would have sworn that these folks were running a commune of some kind. It's what it looked like anyway. We decided to leave first thing in the morning.

Three Productive Days In Stella Maris

  We had lunch at the Driftwood Cafe on Thursday because all of our food was in coolers due to Rosie defrosting the refrigerator. I had my sought after cheeseburger, made by hand with fresh ground beef. A side of fries and cole slaw rounded off the meal and I must say it was very good. Rosie had a Ceasar Salad with chicken. She said if was "real good".
  On Thursday afternoon, Joe brought "Gerd" to the boat to look at what I wanted to have welded. I had made a template for the stainless and Joe found suitable material and had cut it. Gerd is German, like the owners, and used to be the marina manager here. He is a man of few words. Few, as in none. Nevertheless, it appeared that our welding was going to take place on Friday, barring rain.
  We visited Ian and the Driftwood Cafe on Thursday night. We were just going to have a couple of beers and then go back to the boat for dinner. The kitchen staff had made a mistake on an order, making a huge beef burrito instead of beef nachos, so Ian remembered how much we like the burrito from Wednesday night and offered it to us on the house. How can you pass up an offer like that? Later, the smoke detector went off and I hollered "If that's a hamburger you're burning, I'll eat it!" No such luck.
  We got back to the boat before dark and we trying to decide whether to have dinner, or pop in a movie and eat a big bowl of popcorn instead. Rosie was taking in the view from the dinette and said, "Oooh, look how pretty the moon looks!"
  "Yes, all twenty four of them", I said. "That's one of the globe lights that line the marina basin you're looking at."
  We both had a real good laugh at that, but we'll seen how Rosie's sense of humor holds up when she learns that I put this in the blog.
  Chantal might have been history, but storms were still due to pass through, and they did. It rained most of the night, and the wind was blowing swells into the marina entrance. We bounced around some, but we were tied to the dock pretty securely, so we weren't worried.
  I was up by 7 A.M. because I wanted to be ready to drop the dinghy in case the welding was going to take place early. Joe came by just after 7, making sure his last cut on the new bracket was correct. He said if the rain held off, we would get the welding done that day, and he left the bracket with me.
  While I was waiting, I took some plastic board material and began to cut pieces for some extra bracing for the davit. I had an idea to sandwich the davit at the point of the most stress, exactly at the curve of the davit, and I had mentioned that to Joe. He generally liked the idea, but said it would work better if I filled in the space between the two tubes that make up the davit, and then sandwich them in, providing stiffness to the area in hopes to avoid the flexing that was causing the welds to fail.
  It took me all morning to cut the pieces with my hand jigsaw, and then a few more hours of sanding the pieces incrementally, measuring, sanding some more, and then obtaining a tight fit between the davit tubes. Meanwhile, Rosie took our laundry across the road and Holly just laid in the salon, staring out the door and pouting because we weren't paying her any attention.
  One of the yard workers wheeled the welder over to our boat, so I figured it was showtime. I put all my stuff away, dropped the dinghy, and moved the boat back closer to the bulkhead, as per Joe's instructions. Then I waited.
  No one told me that Gerd was going to do the welding, so I was watching Joe and two other guys drilling holes to modify the haul out railway to fit the catamaran next to us. The whole time I'm wondering why I was told to move the boat if the welding wasn't going to commence. There was threat of more rain, and the wind was freshening. I didn't have Swing Set tied down good enough for a windstorm, plus the tide was beginning to go out. I began to worry that I had dropped the dinghy and moved the boat for nothing.
  I kept quiet though. I got my sander back out and finished fitting the pieces I had made, then I painted them. While I had the paint out, I painted the garbage pail in the cockpit. I kept busy, and I kept an eye on any sign of welding progress.
  I left the boat as Rosie was returning from the laundry. She asked me how it was going, and I said that it wasn't. I retrieved my now dried painted items and when I came back I found Gerd on the boat. He had the new bracket clamped onto the davit and was beginning to tack it in place. I mustered up all the tact that I could and explained to him that it was imperative that the failed weld on the original brace be welded before we weld the new bracket over it. Without a word, he unclamped the new brace and prepared to fix the broken weld. The only thing he said was that "ziss metal iss too sin". I agreed with him, but said that, "It was what it was. Nothing I could do about it now." And so he welded in silence.
  He finished welding the new brace on, and then walked away without a word. Big surprise. Imagine, this guy used to be the marina manager. Had I met someone like him when we arrived at the marina on Wednesday, it is unlikely that we would have stayed here, at least not for three days.
  I sat and wondered if perhaps it was someone else who was going to do the cleanup of the welds when I finally saw Gerd, grinder in hand, in the process of borrowing the extension cord that Joe and the other two guys were using to drill holes over on the railway. (How it takes three guys to use one drill is a mystery to me.) I told Gerd that they could keep the cord, that I had one he could use. Silently, he came to the boat and grind down the weld.
  Apparently he was finished. He then asked me if I had any fine sandpaper. I said that I did, and that I'd be happy to polish up the welding with the sandpaper. He reminded me that I would have to wash down the boat too. We had covered all the vinyl with wet beach towels to prevent burning from sparks, but there was still lots of metal dust and debris all over the transom. Yes, I think it would be prudent to wash the boat down.
  As Gerd was making his exit, I thanked him for taking his time to do this welding for us. All he said was, "I don't sink it's going to verk".
  I was prepared for a comment such as this one. I said, "Well, that's a little like telling me my wife is ugly. There is nothing I can do about it now. The damage is done. I have to work with what I have. If this doesn't work, I have the whole dinghy davit torn off and start over. But, I think this is going to work. The davit has held up for three years already."
  "Three years?" Gerd gave a small nod of his head, and I think I may have detected a hint of a smile even. I bet I could grow on Gerd eventually, but at our given ages, I don't think there is time.
  Rosie and I began to clean up the mess while I began an assault on some ice cold Bud Lights. We both got showers and by 7 P.M. we were back at the Driftwood for dinner. We typically don't eat out three times in three days, but we wanted to patronize the newly opened restaurant, if only for Ian's sake, but really, the food is good and fairly priced. Rosie had chicken fingers with Mediterranean Potatoes, and I had Grouper fingers. Both of our meals were delicious.
  During dinner, we told Ian that we had plans to leave in the morning. Our charge for the repair was to be $98, an hour for Gerd, and an hour for Joe. I never had a yard bill for under $100 dollars before, and I told Ian to make it an even hundred. No sense breaking the mold now. After what ultimately wound up to be a very productive day and evening, we returned to Swing Set before 9 P.M. and wasted no time in falling asleep.
  This is where I wanted to post pictures of the finished product, but the WiFi signal is weak this morning and I can't load up pictures. I got up very early this morning and had a good breakfast and then set to work installing the extra bracing I had made. The stiffening pieces between the davit tubes tapped in just perfectly with my hammer. Just right. Suffice it to say, it looks good and I really do think the repair will hold up. If I see Gerd today, I'll offer to buy him dinner if we return next year and his prediction about the repair not working comes true.
  Ian came by the boat. He was checking meter readings and announced that the meter we are on doesn't work, so it appeared that we had used no electricity. I told him that running one air conditioner, which we had been doing, would amount to roughly 6 kilowatt hours per day, or at their rate, $3.60, but we also had used electric to do sanding and drilling. I suggested that he charge us $20 for the three days. He countered with $15. Ian drives a hard bargain, and I know when I'm beat. I relented to us being charged $15 instead of $20. Sometimes you just can't win.
  I wrote this post while waiting for high tide so we can leave. We probably don't need it, but the extra depth will be welcome when we transit the channel out of here. Our plan is to go just a few mile up the coast to Calabash Bay, near Cape Santa Maria, the northern tip of Long Island. Even though we have rain fore casted for every day, the winds should die down, so we are considering jumping over to Conception Island in a day or two. It's 14 miles northeast of here and is a totally uninhabited island. The beaches and water are reported to be the most beautiful in the Bahamas, and the snorkeling is supposed to be phenomenal. Not sure if we'll have Internet service there, or even phone service, so we might be incommunicado for a few days.
  We probably spoiled ourselves in the air conditioning for the last three nights, but the temperatures here should be 75 degrees at night, and highs of 83 degrees during the day, so with a pleasant breeze on the hook, we just might be able to survive. One thing we feel is for certain, there will be a return to Stella Maris Marina in our future.

A Sigh Of Relief In Stella Maris

  We have free WiFi! So I'm backing up for a week and showing you this picture of the beach at Chat 'N' Chill on Stocking Island across from Georgetown, Exuma.
  The Chat 'N' Chill is such a fun place to go to, we found it hard to leave Georgetown because of it. We have been told that, "in season", the place is hopping with customers, and three to four hundred boats line the shores of Elizabeth Harbour. We cannot wait to visit in the winter months. We think this place would be a great place to visit on vacation.
  Meanwhile, any reservations about our decision to travel to Long Island, with our initial disappointment in Salt Pond, plus the threat of Chantal hanging over our heads, has disappeared like Baptists at a raid on a strip club.
  Yesterday morning we left our anchorage in Thompson Bay in Salt Pond. The morning was sunny and calm, but we were in good moods because the threat of tropical storm Chantal was diminishing.
  The storm was taking a track that I had initially hoped it would, and was staying south of Cuba, but was weakening. Wind was still going to be an issue, but not too much of one. I'd rather be lucky than good. This time we were lucky.
  On our approach to Stella Maris Marina I still wasn't sure if I wanted to go the additional miles to get into the harbor. The marina is located on the very inside corner of a large bay, off of our route somewhat, and the path is not a very deep one. It was early, we had the time, and we both figured we ought to see if the guidebooks and reviews we had been reading were anything close to reality. We could always change our minds and travel the extra few miles up the coast to Joe Sound if we didn't like what we encountered at Stella Maris.
  On our approach on the largely unmarked channel, we saw a dive boat coming out from the marina entrance. This was good news, the first boat we saw actually underway in days. There might be life at Stella Maris!
  We entered the small marina basin through a narrow but adequate cut and quickly saw the fuel dock. It was a neat affair and there was plenty of room to maneuver Swing Set alongside. I called the marina on the VHF and didn't get a response. It was Independence Day in The Bahamas, a holiday, and perhaps they weren't open. But instead of leaving, I went in search of somebody.
  I was wandering around the boatyard and a fella came out. "I guess you're looking for me", he said, and I replied that if he could sell me some fuel, that he was indeed the guy I was looking for.
  Ian, with a proper British accent, introduced himself as the manager of the Stella Maris Marina, having just taken over the job after purchasing the dive operation here recently and eventually making an arrangement with the owners to operate the marina and the restaurant. He and his wife are from the Pyrenees mountains between France and Spain, and have been trying to purchase the dive operation at Stella Maris for a couple of years. After spending about twenty months waiting around and dealing with the unbelievably slow bureaucracy of the Bahamian government, they gave up hope and went back to Europe, only to get a call from their lawyer a few months later saying that the deal was done. Back to Long Island they came.
  After getting our fuel, and asking a few questions that Ian had the right answers to, I asked about getting a slip for a night our two. The price is fair, and we were able to secure an alongside pier instead of the usual med style dock that prevails in the marina. The slip we took was that of the large marina dive boat that was currently moored in the adjacent canal, a  true "hurricane hole". The boat would be there until the end of hurricane season, so we'd be able to stay as long as we would want to. I began thinking of a three day arrangement.

  We got Swing Set tucked in and plugged in our shore power. We hadn't used our air conditioning since Nassau, but within the close confines of the protected marina, we were happy to have it chugging away.
  Rosie and I went exploring a little. We wanted to see the hurricane hole, so we hiked over to see it. There were several boats lined up in the deep basin. Lines running from the sides of each vessel were tied securely to bollards that line the bank on each side. I'd feel safe keeping Swing Set here if we need to.
  The marina is part of the larger Stella Maris Inn and Resort, on the other side of the island. The complex is owned by an older German family, and interest in running the marina has declined over the years, and so has the marina. But a resurgence is obvious, and Ian is working hard to improve the property. This is not a resort; you go over to the Stella Maris Inn and Resort for that, but there is a dive training tank, accessible from the second floor deck just off from the entrance to the Driftwood Cafe. The tank is big enough for lounging around, and Rosie and I decided to do just that if the promised rain would hold off.

  This is not the view from the deck and "pool", but you can see the fuel dock and the bay beyond. The view is naturally better from the deck, but I didn't have my camera and now it's raining. Use your imagination. Also, take note of the center console fishing boat with the four outboard motors.
  The Driftwood Cafe is open from 11 A.M. to 3 P.M. for lunch everyday. They close for two hours and then reopen from 5 to 9. The two hour break is necessary at the moment because the Ian's bartender has gone on an extended vacation, and his wife has gone back to Europe to visit their grown daughters and for some much needed R & R after training new kitchen staff and opening the restaurant just three weeks ago.
  We didn't visit the cafe for lunch, but had lunch on the boat. I checked on Chantal, and she was history. NOAA discontinued tracking her. Some wind and rain is to be expected for the next couple of days, but the storm threat is gone. Our moods improved considerably.
  We spent a couple of hours "at the pool". Ian came by numerous times and at once remarked how he liked to see the guests "enjoying it". We were very happy to be enjoying it. Quite a few patrons came by and took lunch orders out with them. The cafe seems to be catching on.
  We took showers in the bathroom just off of the deck and retired to the boat to relax in the air conditioning. I took a nap with my buddy Holly, and Rosie read. At 5 P.M. we put some clean duds on and made our way to the cafe.
  There were a few locals having a beer and waiting on "to go" orders. We wished them a happy Independence Day and took a seat near the bar where Ian was freshened up. We took possession of the first of two ice cold Kalik beers, enjoying some sporadic conversation with the locals and with Ian, held captive by our close proximity with no escape from my many questions.
  We were joined by the guys on the center console fishing boat with the four outboard motors. Lightening had destroyed the electronics on all four motors, and they had replaced the control boards at considerable cost. The test run that they had taken that afternoon had checked out, and they were headed back to Jupiter on Friday. I told them that Saturday might be a better day. After a couple more beers, they tended to agree with my weather prediction for the rest of the week.
  The fishermen ordered off the small, but delightfully different menu, and we did the same. We largely enjoyed our conversation with the three of them while we waited a short time for our food to arrive from the kitchen. Rosie and I ordered a large beef nacho plate, and a beef burrito to share. The prices are very fair, and we stuffed ourselves, plus brought half of the large burrito back to the boat when we finally left at 9 P.M.
  We had an early wake up call after sleeping like babies. A nice cooled down cabin and the calm sanctuary of a protected harbor makes for great sleeping conditions, something that is somewhat of a luxury for us.
  This morning I wanted to be up early to meet "Joe", the boatyard manager, I guess. He's reported to have been working here for 43 years. A person can get set in his ways after working at a place for 43 years, and Ian apparently recognizes the dynamics of dealing with Joe, with Ian being the "new guy" and all.
  Joe and I are currently undergoing negotiations to have the crack on our dinghy davit welded. Our initial meeting was less than productive, but he's been to the boat three times now and I think he's warming up to me. The issue is having enough power at the dock to use a welder, plus the availability of the stainless material is an issue too. He does have some plastic board material that I'll use to fabricate a brace to allow us to continue on without the davit failing. After discussing my plan at length, he told me to hold off making anything just yet. He's going to see if he can get what we need to do the job right. I think he sees my desire to not do a cheesy job, and he appreciates such things it seems. Some people just like to help you do the right thing.

 
  The owner of a new Boston Whaler Conquest came over and asked to borrow my drill. When I took it over to him, I saw this friendly manatee laying on his back and getting a drink from the air conditioning cooling water on his boat. I went back to get my camera and he was still at it. Naturally, the picture doesn't do the scene justice.
  Rosie is busy defrosting the freezer and waiting for the rain to stop to take laundry across the Queen's Highway to the laundromat. Before starting the blog I polished some rust from our air generator towers and our anchor light pole. I like writing the blog better, and I started when the rain did.
  I suspect some more conversations with Joe are in my future, but mostly this afternoon will be spent reading. I'll hit the ground running tomorrow if I have to fabricate some braces for the davit. We originally had designs of renting a car and seeing the island, but it's supposed to rain again tomorrow anyway. Tonight we'll visit the Driftwood Cafe again. I have designs on one of their delicious looking cheeseburgers tonight.

Salt Pond Is A Dud

  After our lengthy and bumpy crossing to Long Island yesterday we didn't feel like exploring the town and thought we would wait until today. Wish we would have done it yesterday.
  But first, I'll back up. Leaving Elizabeth Harbour yesterday morning, the forward bilge pump came on, evident by it's warning light at the helm. Each pump has one. This was odd, and when odd things happen on a boat, it's best to find out the "root cause" because it means something isn't right. The forward pump coming on without the aft pump coming on means a problem. An unusual problem.
  Another thing that hasn't been right is the amount of water our water maker has been making, or how much our tank has been holding overnight. I do believe in coincidences, and when problem solving, coincidences confuse the issue. I also believe in getting lucky.
  I had mentioned yesterday that the stern harness on the dinghy failed. I was able to rig up some more strapping to keep the harness intact long enough to  lower the dinghy and make a repair. What I rigged up yesterday with what I found onboard is better than what broke, so I think we'll be keeping it. In regard to the dinghy davits, that I haven't mentioned, is that one of the welds that my Cuban buddy Rudy re-welded in Bimini is cracking again. The extra gussets that he welded alongside the original strut are helping keep the davit from failing, but either I need to find another welder, or some material to brace up the davit myself. I have some ideas, but I need to find material. Salt Pond will not be the place to find the material.
  I saved the investigation of the bilge pump until this morning. There was water in the bilge again this morning, deep enough for the pump to come on, but I had to switch in on manually. The pump worked, so the problem would be the float switch, or the wiring. The float switch was only a few months old, so I suspected a bad connection, and I found one. A cut in the wire insulation let salt water corrode the copper wire inside, turning it to dust. I spliced in a new connection and confirmed the proper operation of the switch. Great!
  But where was the water coming from? It rained really hard last night, so I suspected rain water although rain water really doesn't get in the bilges, or it isn't supposed to. I have known about a fitting on the drain for our water maker, way in the deep corners of the engine room, that has been leaking. Just a little drip drip drip, not enough to make that much water build up, but conditions change. But that water has a high salt content, and the bilge water was fresh water. I tasted it.
  I saw a tiny stream of water sneaking along a stringer, so I grabbed my worklight and looked for the source and found it! A fitting on the inlet to one of our fresh water pumps was leaking like a sieve. Not only did I find the reason for the water in the bilge, but also discovered why it seemed like our water maker output has been reduced, or not as much water remained in the tank overnight. So it was a good thing that the bilge pump switch failed.
  What is not a good thing was coming to Salt Pond. All the boats we saw off in the distance are not fellow cruisers here to weather out Tropical Storm Chantal. Upon closer inspection in the dinghy this morning, we found out that most, if not all, of the vessels laying in Salt Pond Harbor are derelicts. The rest are sinking. We are here alone.
  The places touted in the cruising guides, you know, the guide that lured us here in the first place, are closed. Out of business. The fuel dock is in such bad repair I wouldn't take our boat near it, and I'm not sure if any fuel pumps work anyway.
  There is nothing here in Salt Pond to keep us here, except for the approaching storm, and the storm track did change. We are now smack in Chantal's path, but the path might change again when Chantal crosses over Haiti and the Dominican Republic. She'll be here on Thursday.
  Early tomorrow morning we'll be heading up the coast about 14 miles to Stella Maris. There is a hurricane hole there of sorts, plus a marina. Or so the guidebooks say.

Long Island Waiting On Chantal

  We have left Chicken Harbor, otherwise known as Elizabeth Harbour near Georgetown, Great Exuma. After looking at the forecast for what is currently Tropical Storm Chantal, we headed east from Georgetown to Salt Pond in Long Island. 
  While The Exumas run more in a northwest to southeast direction, Long Island lays just east and runs more north and south. The Grand Bahama Bank sits in between and the southern tip of the Exumas stabs Long Island almost directly in the center of that island, just about where the Tropic Of Cancer lies, and that is where we headed.
  When we left the anchorage this morning, we were hailed by another vessel, Island Girl, a sailboat. The captain said that they'd be following behind us, also heading to Salt Pond. We also met another small sailboat on the way out of the cut, a guy we had met during our two weeks in Georgetown. He was heading east too.
  Tropical Storm Chantal is developing southeast of this area, and the five day outlook for probability places Chantal just about everywhere in The Bahamas, and most of Florida. There is no running.
  Depending on how early Chantal "hooks" to the northwest, we can possibly avoid the majority of the storm by this move we have made. We will be staying north of the storm, maybe, but lots of factors come into play. We'll be watching the forecast with each update. As much as we appreciate our friends' concern about our well being, we want everyone to be rest assured that we get all the alerts we need via email, don't feel obligated to send us what we are already looking at.
  Running further east to the Ragged Islands, or Turks and Caicos, would put us well north of Chantal, but running in the open Atlantic Ocean when there are already wind and rainstorms brewing, is not an option. Coming across the shallow Great Bahamas Bank today was strenuous enough. 
  The stern harness on the dinghy, (stainless steel cable) is starting to break. I did a emergency repair while underway this morning. The twisted strand cable is nearly broke in two. I'm going to make another harness out of line. It won't be as pretty, but it will be strong.
  Our crossing today was almost five hours, and we were pounding headwinds pretty hard for the last three hours. We made our way into Thompson's Bay, and steered Swing Set to the tallest hill along the shores of Long Island, and finally anchored in six feet of calm water, as we are protected from the wind whipped waves by the coast.
  We're taking a breather for the rest of today, and then we'll decide if we want to travel twenty one miles north up the coast to Joe Sound, a dandy hurricane hole with a tricky entrance, but sheltered water once entry is gained. The unknown is how many other vessels have the same thing in mind. The hole only holds six boats, and we don't want to be number seven.
  As a last resort, we'll stake Swing Set down with three anchors in the best place we can find and seek shelter on the island somewhere. The dinghy would probably be lost if we do that, and the boat may be too, but we aren't riding out a hurricane on the boat unless we are in a hurricane hole, and maybe not even then, but this storm is not predicted to build to hurricane status.
  There are a few other boats anchored here, just out from the Long Island Petroleum Company. We stayed away from the other boats as it lessens the chance for calamity if the wind gets crazy.
  The next couple of days will tell the tale. We have good Internet here, so I wanted to get this blog posted. We'll be sending SPOT reports to those of the receivers list. Please pass along that we're OK to anyone who you think may care.

Holding Pattern

  For the most part, our week has been rather uneventful. After the Junkanoo last Saturday night, the winds clocked back around to come from the ESE, making us exposed to wind and waves blowing right up the length of Elizabeth Harbour, so we moved the boat back over to our original spot just off of Stocking Island. After spending another night bouncing around due to the more southerly, rather than easterly direction of the waves, we decided on Monday morning to make another move.
  Crab Cay Marina is a marina project that was begun in 2006. A beautiful stone bridge was built to allow traffic to go from Georgetown to Crab Cay, some roads were graded, and piles of construction materials were placed all around the natural harbor which was also dredged to a nice depth for a marina, but then everything stopped in 2009 before any docks were put in, leaving a nice protected harbor, albeit with not much in the way of scenery along the shoreline. We moved over there to ride out what was predicted to be a windy week.
  Trips in the dinghy from our anchorage off of Stocking Island were wet ones, even though we did our best to run "with the wind and waves", and one trip in the dinghy from our harbor in Crab Cay was not different. Our one trip into town last Monday evening to get some water and dump our trash left us all soaked. After tiring of the less than picturesque view we had, by Tuesday afternoon, we were ready to move back to our spot off of Stocking Island. That's what we like best about our home. If we don't like something about the surroundings, we can just move.
  Winds moved around more from the east as the week went by, so our move was a good one. About eight other boats in the area joined us, all with the same thing in mind. Everyone has been staying put until the current wind conditions calm down some.
  We made a couple more trips into town, one of them was to the local library. The small wooden building is now being staffed by volunteers from the cruising community here. We took three books in and were able to swap them for three others from their huge trading selection that is comprised from duplicates from the main section. We were also able to buy some books for only a dollar, which we can then use for trade fodder on subsequent visits. The best thing was that we bought a library card for three dollars, which is really just the recording of our boat name and our names on a list. Whenever we visit to borrow any books, we just give them our name. Our names will stay on the list until the library burns down, and there is no limit to how long you can keep the books out. The key here is trust.
  When we returned to the dinghy after our library and grocery store visit to Exuma Markets, we were hailed from a boat in Lake Victoria by a familiar sounding captain. It was Linda from the M/V Mercy Me, who we had met when we were in Big Pine. We talked for a while and caught up on some cruising info, but then we said our goodbyes because we had cold stuff we wanted to get back to the boat.
  The Fourth of July was a non-issue for us. We planned an outing over to Chat 'n' Chill, but the rain fixed that. Once we decided to stay in and have dinner on the boat, we had no desire to venture back out for the evening. We saw a few fireworks off in the distance at the Four Seasons Resort. I could have joined in with a few shotgun blasts, but I declared all our ammunition at Customs, not having squirreled any away any for robbers (I'll have some 'splainin' to do), or reverie.
  Our days have been spent mainly reading our books, but we did take a couple of long beach walks along the white sand beaches of Stocking Island. Everyday there has been the threat of rain, and we had some spectacular lightening shows on a couple of the nights.
  We did make it over to Chat 'n' Chill yesterday. There are huge rays over there that swim along the beach. You can reach down and pet them if you wish. A dolphin swam up to a big group of folks and entertained them, swimming just a couple of feet away, until some teenage boys got aggressive and ran it off. We're glad we never owned any teenage boys.
  We still are having issues with our Internet, thus this short blog with no pictures. I'll make up for it next time. Maybe.