S/V Recycle trip to Bahamas

I noted some battery charging concerns, but I don’t remember how they were resolved; probably a new battery. I noted when the tidal currents were unfavorable, and would often wait until the middle of the day for the current to turn, and then do an easy, short day. I also fought the current plenty of times, finding a place to anchor just at dark.

Before I left Annapolis, I built a hokey hard dodger out of plywood, 2x4’s and polyester resin, but with clear marine vinyl material on the front, and canvas on the sides. It gave me standing headroom in the open companionway hatch. I still noted in the log that I spent a lot of time drying wet socks and gloves, but that was often from rain, not spray. My chart book blew out of the cockpit at some point, and although I turned around to look for it, it had sunk. I stopped somewhere to buy a new one. That one blew overboard a few days later, but I got it back before it sank, dried it adequately, and treated it more carefully afterward.

I didn’t record the temperature every day, but when I did it was often 40 or 50 deg. F. I had an alcohol-fueled cabin light with a mantle that put out a very bright light and quite a bit of heat, but not enough to make it completely warm. I remember there were some mornings on the ICW when there was frost on the deck. I noted fall colors showing up again in Georgetown, SC, on November 22. On December 19 near Titusville, FL, it was comfortable in the 70’s.

I arrived at the marina on Fripp Island, SC, where my parents lived, on November 24, after a couple of days of rain. Fripp Island is about 16 miles east of the ICW, equivalent to about ICW mile 538, which would be at Beaufort, SC. [Mile 0 starts in Portsmouth, VA.] Soon after arriving, Dad began to plead with me to call off this crazy trip, and start looking for a real job. I tried to reassure him, but he was worried.

I stayed there a few days before borrowing their car and driving up to Annapolis with Carolina the cat, and stayed there for a few days with my girlfriend Kathryn. When I was ready to drive back, I couldn’t find the cat, and waited one more day until she became an Annapolis cat.

I left from Fripp Island on December 13, taking a back way through the marshes over to the ICW. In Walburg Creek at St. Catherine’s Sound, I anchored next to Bright Star, a pretty 28 foot Kings Cruiser with brightwork topsides, and met three young guys from Connecticut. I would see them again along the way. I met lots of people, as cruisers do.

In Daytona Beach, I met an older gentlemen named Oakly Ames and his wife, on their 28 foot wooden sailing sloop, all painted white. They were from Maine. I asked him if he had made this trip before, and he said no, this trip was the first time they had ever left the state. I also met Beth and Kim on Tern, a big double-ender (maybe 36 feet) from Maine, with their 3 year old and a baby. Lots of other people on their boats, too.

I stopped writing in my log on December 25, and on January 6, 1981, I recorded “DAYS HAVE NO MEANING…” For those who don’t know, that’s a reference to Bernard Moitessier who sailed single-handed around the world in the 1968 Sunday Times Golden Globe Race, and before finishing, he decided to continue sailing around the world again to “save his soul.” I was being dramatic apparently, because I didn't head out to sea, with no plan to return. I was trying to just chill, but actually I was spending a lot of time scheduling and entertaining visitors. I was too busy to write in the log, but I made notes on a calendar of where I was on most days.

I think it was January 1, 1981 when I made the crossing from Fort Lauderdale across the Gulf Stream all the way to Nassau (about 220 n. miles) in 45 hours with my brother Donald as crew. The wind and seas were from the southwest, blowing harder than forecast at about 20 knots. The little sailboat handled the 10-12 foot waves quite well, with only a little water splashing into the cockpit. But we were towing the dinghy which was surfing like a champ, and would occasionally bump into the Recycle, or get turned sideways in front of an oncoming breaker before the painter jerked her around to surf down the next breaking sea. If the dinghy had filled with any substantial amount of water, she would have been a goner, and I could not have safely attempted a retrieval.

By the next morning, things had calmed down, but we were going slower. I had planned to stop in the Berry Islands, but it was dark before we got there. We continued sailing for the second night.

We arrived in Nassau at midday, and paid for a marina the first night, mostly so that the Customs and Immigration process could be handled at the dock. The two officers in uniforms and shiny shoes arrived with their clipboard and sat in the cockpit to complete the forms. Their extra weight lowered the boat enough that the cockpit drains were below the waterline, allowing water to flow in—first just a slosh, then an inch, then almost two inches. The officers lifted their feet up onto the cockpit seat facing them, and quickly finished up the paperwork.

Donald stayed for a few days, and then my brother Andrew and his friend stayed for a short week. I waited a few more days for my girlfriend Kathryn and her friend Kathy to arrive in Nassau. We took a week to go to the Exumas and back to Nassau for the friend to fly out, and then had some time to sail over to Eleuthera. We were being a little more adventurous and confident, and she returned to Nassau on the mailboat, so I could continue on my adventure. I only had two weeks before I needed to be back in Nassau for my next guest, but I did a nice tour to the south end of Eleuthera and over to Staniel Cay and through the Exumas.

While in Nassau with Kathryn, we were surprised as we rowed back in the pram on a dark night to see a nice inflatable boat with a big motor hanging off the stern of Recycle. I surprised the guy with the boat too, as he ran by me in the companionway, jumped in his boat, and disappeared into the night. As that was happening, I was just figuring out the obvious, and began yelling about why he would target a 26 foot boat in his big fancy inflatable, but he didn’t come back to discuss it. It was disturbing to see how he had rifled through our stuff, stealing $40 before we interrupted him. It could have been worse in several ways, but I still wouldn’t want a gun onboard. I never had time to fire the flare gun, either. The authorities were no help the next day, of course. I was starting to sour on Nassau, even though I enjoyed it too. Excellent conch fritters at Potter’s Cay, and interesting people on a regular basis. I remember hanging with Andrew, a Bahamian captain and owner of a 65 foot wooden schooner that took tourists out for 2 hour sails and sunset cruises.

Another time in Nassau, I returned to where I left the dinghy and it was missing. Although I can’t say for sure that I tied it properly, I bet I did. I must have found a ride out to my boat, and I rose early the next morning to make a few runs around the harbor in Recycle looking for the dinghy with no luck, and then I did it again the next day. Just as I had given up hope, I saw it tied up behind a derelict but occupied vessel (without another dinghy.) I yelled “ahoy” as I came alongside, jumped over, untied my dinghy and secured it to Recycle, just as a sleepy head poked out of a hatch. “Thank you” I called as I steamed away. I think he was saying something about having bought the dinghy from a friend, but I didn’t want to discuss it. It was important to have my dinghy back.

It may have been my young age, or the relatively small size of my boat, but many of the cruisers I met were on boats less than 30 feet long. I remember having coffee several mornings with Jim and Jean on a home built 26 foot boat in Staniel Cay, and talking about how the people in the “big” boats were always having to fix their dinghy outboards or some other piece of equipment that we didn’t even have. Our water tank capacities of 10 or 20 gallons seemed fine at the time. We definitely had lower budgets--for everything.

One more dinghy story. It was a completely lovely day of sailing in 10-12 knots out of the northwest from Nassau to the town of Current, Eleuthera, a distance of about 28 n.miles, a nice broad reach. I was sailing on the ocean side of the bank in the Northeast Providence Channel, and decided to enter the bank at the south side of Little Pimlico Island. I had been through here earlier, and conditions had been calm and easy. This time, there was a good swell running from the northwest after a few days of strong winds, and the tide was falling, so the current was directly into the swells. In a matter of minutes, the conditions went from pleasant to treacherous, as the 8-10 foot swells behind me began to get steep and break when the water depth dropped to 30 or 40 feet. This was a classic Bahama bank cut rage. The dinghy was having a hard time in these conditions and finally capsized. The 3/8” nylon painter parted with the next jerk on the line. There was a larger boat near me and they seemed to see the action, but they were having enough of a rough time, and I never called them on the radio.

I quickly dropped the (hank-on) jib, started the motor, and timed the breakers to turn around into the big seas. Warm seawater washed over the foredeck and both rails as we rolled in the steep, breaking waves. I was able to locate the dinghy, but there was no way to retrieve it in those conditions. However, I wanted to stay near it, expecting things to change as we moved mostly north in the current. It was not easy to see the submerged white dinghy with all of the whitewater and bouncing around. For some reason, I had left one of the oars in the dinghy and it had floated free, along with the seats that were ripped out in the capsize or a subsequent roll. After an unsuccessful try to grab the dinghy, I decided to try to get the oar that was being blown downwind faster than the submerged dinghy. That took a little time, and when I was done, I couldn’t see the dinghy anywhere.

After several circles, and a short run upwind and then down, I had given up hope of finding the dinghy. By now, the conditions were much reduced, having been set at least a mile north in about half an hour, and we were west of Little Pimlico Island, no longer in the strong flow of the current running through the cut. I made one more short circle and then one last run upwind before I saw a faint light spot on the surface off to the port-- yes, I found it. Even then, it was not easy to grab the short piece of remaining painter and attach a new line. With some difficulty I was able to lift the dinghy enough to drain most of the water so she could be safely towed.

While motor-sailing back to the cut, I saw another piece of flotsam that turned out to be one of the two seats that had been ripped from the dinghy, and it was easily retrieved. One less piece to fabricate for the repair. In all the commotion, I didn’t have time to think about what was happening inside Recycle. A quick inspection revealed that water had entered through the forward hatch and soaked my berth. The floor was covered in dishes and other items not securely stowed. By now, the current had subsided, and the passage through the cut was uneventful. There was still some current against us as we motored up the east side of Current Cay. The dinghy retrieval operation had added a few hours of delay, so I couldn’t quite make it to the town of Current before dark. I anchored after sunset in a small cove just a couple of miles south of my planned destination. The night was calm and lovely. Even with the wet berth, I slept well. I don’t remember the details of how or where I repaired the dinghy, but I know I did it.

I was back in Nassau in time to meet my friend Bob for a one week visit in the middle of March. Unfortunately, we had strong easterly weather, and an engine issue that wasn’t fixed until after he left. However, we sailed out to some nearby places, got in some snorkeling, and generally had fun.

By the time I fixed the outboard, I only had four days to sail to the Abacos to meet my friend Richard and his girlfriend Norwood in Marsh Harbor. The overnight sail from Spanish Wells to Little Harbor (about 55 nm) started out scary in the NE tradewinds breeze of 20 knots, and I was still towing the dinghy. Later that night, the weather eased as forecast, and it was lovely, although rough.

When I met Richard and Norwood, I was surprised they came with big hard suitcases, but I must have not prepared them well. We still had a good time. The Abacos were quite touristy compared to my Bahamas cruising to date, but in a great way. Provisioning in Marsh Harbor was good, the lighthouse and village at Hope Town are a treat, we did lots of snorkeling, etc. After they left, I stayed in the area, needing to renew my visa in Marsh Harbor.

I had the good fortune to go sailing on the Bahamian sloop I thought was named Pride of Abaco, but maybe it was the Abaco Rage, and I got to know some people on Man-o-war Cay. I decided to leave Recycle on an anchor at Man-o-war Cay with the dinghy hanging astern while I crewed for a few weeks with some people I had just met-- as a (nominally) paying job. Jim, Eileen, and their young daughter were on a Cape Dory 36 named Mavourneen, and wanted some help getting to Georgetown and the Out Island Regatta near the end of April. [Note: In 1981, it was still possible to anchor at Hope Town and Man-o-war Cay, instead of taking a mooring as now required.]