Unexcused Absences

April, 2018 — Central Bahamas. As usual, Miss Adventure spent much of April in the central Exumas, alternating island-sitting with parties and fishing and visits to the Yacht Club. We also took advantage of a calm weather window to make our first visit to the Jumento Cays.

Interestingly, the offshore fishing has been almost nonexistent. Either the wind was too strong to venture into the ocean, or the wind was light but in the wrong direction, but everyone, locals included, was complaining about the lack of gamefish in the Exuma Sound. Fortunately, due to our island-sitting adventures, we had access to bigger boats, which meant we could venture out to some excellent spear-fishing areas on the Exuma Banks. The Banks are 25-50 miles of shallow sand that extend westward from the Exumas, terminating at the Tongue of the Ocean.

Our first spear-fishing trip was quite successful; we found some coral heads about 15 miles to the west of Staniel Cay in 10 feet of water, and shot three Snapper, a Queen Triggerfish, and a 3.5-pound Grouper. Our second one had even better results, although we were just guests of a friend who had hired a local Staniel fishing guide. Sandy Gray took us 20 miles across the Banks towards the Tongue of the Ocean, where he and Michael and Heather fished around coral heads in 30 feet of water. Since I can’t dive that deep, and Heather can but has sub-optimal aim, we didn’t end up shooting any fish, but instead watched the master (Sandy) shoot a dozen Hogfish and two large Grouper. Michael also shot a couple Hogfish, so we returned to the dock with enough fish to feed two people for a month.

Hogfish are interesting creatures; they are only rarely caught with traditional fishing gear because they eat crustaceans buried in the sand, which means they ignore live bait or lures. Instead, almost every Hogfish must be speared by hand, which is why, even if you can find them on a restaurant menu, the price for a small portion will likely be $30-$50. Michael split the catch with Sandy, and then had to return to the mainland a couple days later, so he ended up giving us his portion (minus the group dinner we ate with him his final night). Oh, and Hogfish are considered some of the finest tasting fish in the world, better than Grouper or Vermillion Snapper.

After being released from island-sitting at “Large General’s Bits” we spent 10 days cruising around the central Exumas (and attending many events during the two-week-long, “goodbye Hank and Helen” series of parties). Their grand finale was to cruise down to Great Exuma as guests on our friend’s sailboat for 5 days, so we got to island-sit [redacted] Cay, where our friend is the manager. [Redacted] Cay is possibly the best private island in the Exumas, not the biggest or the most expensive, but definitely the most private and tastefully appointed. We enjoyed five fine days of relaxing, swimming in the lagoon, watching sunsets, cooking in a real kitchen (and taking “Hollywood” land showers), and exploring with the island’s center-console.

Our third expedition to the Banks (in [redacted] Cay’s fast boat) netted us a pair of 3-4 pound Grouper. We have probably eaten more fish this April than during entire decades in our previous life. We caught our one and only gamefish for the month on our way to [redacted] Cay, a fat 12-lb Mahi, so we could mix in some pelagic fillets with our reef fish.

Mid-month, a weather window appeared such that we could finally, on our third year of cruising in the Bahamas, make a short visit to the Jumento Cays. These islands, anchored by Water Cay in the north and Ragged Island in the south, lie halfway between Long Island and Cuba. A 5-hour cruise followed by a 7-hour cruise (with an overnight stop in the Brigantine Cays) got us from Staniel Cay in the Exumas to Flamingo Cay in the northern Jumentos. Because of their remoteness, and because of the shallow passage needed to reach them from the nearest population center, the Jumentos are where you go to be alone.

The main draw, aside from their remoteness, is the fishing and conching. The rest of the Bahamas are quite fished out, so it’s rare to see adult conch in the Exumas or around the populated islands. On our first swim at Flamingo Cay, though, practically right off the back of the boat, we collected about a dozen full-sized conch in a few minutes. We took the three biggest to the beach for processing, leaving the rest to hopefully procreate, or at least provide a meal for some other cruisers.

Cleaning conch has been a bit of a challenge for me, historically, since we usually only find one at a time, and typically only 2-3 per year. This time, though, with three in a row, I had my technique down to a few minutes by number three. Of course this is something a Bahamian can do in about 45 seconds, but I think I did a pretty good job, for a tourist.

We did not have any luck spear-fishing, to our surprise. I think if we had a few more days we could have found some reefs populated with tasty fish, but because of pending bad weather we had to head back to the Exumas after only two nights. Still, big thumbs up on the Jumentos, and hopefully in future years we’ll be able to more fully explore this really cool chain of islands.

There were more social events on the calendar when we arrived back in the Exumas, plus our cruising friends from previous years have started to show up, so we’re now in our favorite part of the cruising season. There’s lots more Bahamas to come in my next post.

March 15-31, 2018 — The Exumas. Fate must be smiling on us because, after almost an entire month of unfavorable weather for crossing to the Bahamas, we got our weather window about 12 hours after we got the boat ready and in position. There was so much pent-up demand to cross the Gulf Stream that leaving Lake Worth Inlet at 6 am on March 15 felt like we were in the Ft Lauderdale holiday parade of boats. Once in the ocean, everyone fanned out; the fast boats headed south-east towards Bimini, the slow boats like us (on our old trawler Miss Adventure) pointing east to Grand Bahama.

What a difference 7 hours makes. By 1 pm we were tied up at the customs dock in West End under sunny skies and surrounded by pastel buildings and turquoise water. Check-in was seamless, as it usually is in West End, and we were back on the water headed for Port Lucaya by 2:30.

Our good weather karma continued the next two days, and we motored first 12 hours to the southern Berry Islands, then another 12 hours to the northern Exumas where we anchored at Shroud Cay. On the way, we caught a Cero Mackerel off of Chub Cay (day 1) and then, [insert miracle here], a 6-pound Yellowfin Tuna just east of Nassau (day 2). Freshly caught Yellowfin is possibly the finest tasting fish in the whole world. The trick is to rub it with soy sauce, barely show it the heat of the stove (maybe 30 seconds on each side), then sprinkle with sesame seeds and eat with white rice and a touch of pickled ginger and wasabi. Heather also made an avocado and raw tuna salad as a side dish.

We had a nice show with our dinner on the aft deck; the planets Venus and Mercury were visible next to each other on the western horizon, and a tiny sliver of moon was on the left, all under perfectly clear skies. The following day we continued our trek south and arrived at Gaulin Cay, near Fowl Cay and Little Major Spot.

We weren’t anchored more than 2 hours before our friend, “Solar” Dave, showed up in his center console. He was island-sitting [redacted] Cay for a few weeks, so we had a nice afternoon catching up with his activities over the past 9 months. His “day” job is doing complete solar installations (solar panels, charge controllers, battery banks, and inverters) throughout the Exumas at the various private islands.

Our first order of business was to help another friend, who manages “Large General’s Bits” (the private island names have been changed or redacted to protect the rich), with some projects, as well as to use his workshop to a bit of engine work for the Miss Adventure. I suspected the oil cooler on the starboard engine was misbehaving, but a pressure test in the workshop seemed to indicate there was no problem. I swapped out the cooler for a spare just in case, so we’ll see what happens going forward.

The balance of our first two weeks was visits to Staniel Cay to see our friends, snorkel trips, fishing, and parties at various private islands. We also met some new faces, the crew of a large black sailboat that belongs to the guy who pretty much invented high-frequency trading on Wall St. I also finally had a chance to try out the drone that my friend, the Minister of Leisure, gave me for Christmas. It is quite the high-tech instrument, and I’ll share the first of many aerial shots to come on these pages.

At the end of the month, we moved to the dock at “Large General’s Bits” and spent a week island-sitting while our friend, the primary manager, had some business to attend to in South Florida. We, of course, had access to the amenities on land that we can only dream of on a boat (washer/dryer, long showers, private beach cabana, a real kitchen), but we also had access to a proper boat, a 22-foot center console with a big engine. With this boat, we could really cover some distance, and over the week we took a trip to the Exumas Park, went deep-sea fishing, and traveled 10-15 miles out onto the Exuma Banks to some coral heads I had spotted on Google Maps for some spearfishing.

The highlight of March, though, was finally spearing my first lobster on the last day of lobster season. Because the season ends so soon after we normally arrive, and because the lobsters know the exact dates when the season begins and ends, they have proven remarkably elusive over the years. After searching various rock holes for what seemed like hours, and while favorite wife patiently waited in the boat, I finally found a plump lobster tucked deep in a hole in some rocks. I struggled a while with the ocean surge, trying to line up the correct angle for a shot, but I finally nailed it right between the eyes. A friend showed us how to cut it up and clean it, and we had grilled lobster tail to go with our steak that night, plus lobster omelets the following morning.

It was quite a start to our 2018 cruising season, and it only got better from here – more island-sitting, plus some trips to remote out-islands, plus our cruising friends from previous years started showing up towards the end of April, so there’s lots more to come. Oh, and the big new upgrade to our boat this year is a 40-gallon-per-hour watermaker. Thank you, Dad!

Late June, 2017 – The calendar increased its relentless force as it passed mid June, so we eventually had to wrap things up and say our goodbyes and start the long cruise north and west back to Florida.

The trip was uneventful, which is always best for an ocean voyage. Our first leg took us first a few hours to the northern Exumas, and from there we did full-day trips to western Eleuthera, the northern Berrys, Port Lucaya on Grand Bahama, and from there across the Gulf Stream to Palm Beach and the Lake Worth Inlet. Other than the first day, where we had a moderate southerly wind, the rest of the days were cruising under partly-cloudy skies and light south-east wind.

Fishing-wise, we trolled the entire time, followed a few flocks of seabirds, and even got a hit right at dawn a half-mile south of Freeport on our last day, but never landed anything.

The biggest change to the boat this year was the addition of our rigid aft-deck aluminum roof. This gave us much-needed storage space, shade, a fish cleaning table, dinghy davits, hammock mounts, overhead lights, and a nice place to mount 600 Watts of solar panels. The solar panels had the biggest positive impact on our cruise; last year we averaged 5 hours of generator use per day, but with all those extra electrons flowing from the panels we got by on an average of 1 hour per day this year.

So that wraps up our 2017 cruise. We got Miss Adventure settled at River Forest Yachting Center, packed everything away, rented a car, and drove back to DC. This year was both completely the same and yet totally different from our 2016 cruise; we were able to time things so we could enjoy a 6-week ski season in Vail (unlike last year in which we didn’t ski a single run), and we solidified our friendships with the locals in the central Exumas. The boat worked very well, and we suffered no major mechanical issues. And we’re delighted with our on-land summer parking spot in Stuart, Florida. We are, in fact, impatient to start our 2018 Bahamas cruise, except that we’re due in France at the end of August for our French canal cruise, 2017 edition.

Mid May to mid June – Once back in the central Exumas after our wonderful cruise to Cat Island and the southern Exumas, time seemed to fly for the final third of our Bahamas trip. The winds also shifted to their “summer” direction (more south-easterly than easterly) and with that, the fishing stopped cold.

Fortunately, there are other things to do besides deep-sea fishing, like snorkeling in the now wonderfully warm water, pot luck dinners on the beach with fellow boaters, and visiting our friends who manage private islands. Oh, and we did some work for our clients. The only time we left the Staniel Cay / Pipe Creek area was to go north for a visit to Shroud Cay.

The lack of fishing (or more precisely, the lack of fish) was particularly interesting. After our bonanza of fish-catching earlier in the season, we assumed we were entitled to catch fish at will. But we had forgotten a cardinal rule of fishing, that also apparently applies to investing; past performance is no guarantee of future returns. The locals, of course, know this, but we willfully chose to ignore local knowledge. We, and our friends on Forever Young, continued to head to sea after the morning beach workout, and we continued to come up empty.

Eventually, a little internet researched showed why. When the wind blows from the East or North-East, the plankton from the Atlantic Ocean get pushed up against the Exuma chain of islands. The little fish eat the plankton, the bait fish eat the little fish, and the game fish come in for the bait fish (at which point we show up with our arsenal of fishing gear). But when the wind shifts to the South-East, the plankton don’t accumulate against the island chain but get blown to the North and West. The big fish follow the food chain, and voila, no fish in the central Exumas.

But otherwise, life was very, very good. With water temperatures in the low to mid 80’s, swimming was delicious, and the beach parties were frequent and fun. We did catch a final Mahi well offshore of Shroud Cay during our trip to that island (the squiggly line in near the top of our GPS track below where we followed some seabirds). There weren’t any specific events or stories that stand out, at least none that we can write about without compromising various private islands, so I’ll wrap up our 2017 cruise with a bunch of photos from our final month in the Bahamas.

 

After the big wedding we took advantage of a period of calm wind and headed east across the Exuma Sound to Cat Island. Not to be confused with Cat Cay, an exclusive resort island near Bimini, Cat Island is the Bahamas as they used to be, relatively unmolested by modern tourism. Half the reason to visit was to see a new place, and half was to get our cruising permit renewed (the Exumas only have one customs office, and it’s as far to the south as Cat Island is to the east). Kill two birds, etc. More on the cruising permit later.

Our first stop was Little San Salvador, a small island on the “bridge” (a shallow strip known for good fishing) between the northern tip of Cat and the southern tip of Eleuthera. On the way we decided to put a single trolling line in the water. We had a 6-hour cruise ahead and didn’t want to risk catching a bunch of fish, so I ran a lure out to 150 yards in hopes of catching a tuna. A Mahi, however, had other ideas, and hit our line before I was even done setting the drag for trolling. It wasn’t so much “fishing” as “grocery shopping”.

Little San Salvador between 7am and 5pm is a cruise ship stop for Holland America and Carnival, but at 5:01pm, the cruise ship heads off to its next destination and visiting boaters have the bay to themselves. We swam in the clearest water yet, and walked on the beach, and had a terrific sunset. Early the next morning we took the dinghy to a small sunken barge and snorkeled with some very friendly Jacks that seemed to lead us around. “Hi, we’ll be your guide Jacks today”. After lunch we set out to fish the bridge before turning towards our anchorage at Orange Creek at the north side of Cat Island. We followed a flock of sea birds around in circles and eventually caught a bigeye tuna for dinner (and lunch the next day, and another dinner, and yet another dinner).

At Orange Creek we took a short dinghy tour up the creek inlet, then motored down to Arthur’s Town. We had heard about a good local restaurant (Da Smoke Pot), so we dropped anchor and came ashore. The restaurant owner was relaxing on his porch with some friends, and he explained that it was election day, which is a national holiday in the Bahamas, so not much would be open. But he said he would be open for dinner, and in the meantime we walked around town and chatted with some friendly locals.

A second reason for us to stop in Arthur’s Town was to re-up our cruising permit. The cruising permit says clearly that it is good for six months from the date of entry, and that six month period ends tomorrow. All the guide books, as well as the Bahamian government website, say that there is a customs office at the Arthur’s Town airport. As Reagan himself said, “trust but verify,” so we asked a local if the customs office was open. “Not sure, mon, should be. Check wit de police.”

We found the Arthur’s Town police station (an old, small cinderblock building) a couple blocks to the north and walked in. A woman, not necessarily a police officer, was sitting at a tiny desk directly in front of a window air conditioner. A man, also not necessarily a police officer, was sitting in a tiny space next to the desk. It’s not clear that the Arthur’s Town police even had a car, or weapons of any kind. There certainly wasn’t room for a 5th person in the police “station” after the two of us walked in. We inquired about the customs office that may or not be at the Arthur’s Town airport, and that may or may not be open.

“Oh yes, de customs. I tink dey closed.”

“For the day, or permanently?” I asked.

“Not sure… you should check.”

Me, thinking “that’s kind of why we’re here.” Side question; how is it possible that the police station does not know whether the only other government office for miles around has been permanently closed or not?

So we called a few numbers listed under “Arthur’s Town Customs Office” and eventually reached a person. “Yes, we open until 5. Come on by.”

But as we started our mile-long walk, I realized a flaw. “Call him back, Heather, and ask if his office is at Arthur’s Town airport.”

Ring… click… “Good afternoon, it’s me again; is this the Arthur’s Town customs office?”

“No mon, dat office closed. We de Smith Bay office.” Smith Bay is a half-day’s cruise to the south end of the island.

The next day, the day of expiration for our cruising permit, we anchored in Smith Bay and walked into “de customs office.” We showed the nice man our paperwork and he said, “everyting fine, whachoo need?” I replied that the permit says clearly that it’s good for 6 months from the date of entry, which not by coincidence was exactly 6 months ago.

“Oh, no, you don need dat. Everyting fine.”

“Well, I don’t want to get in trouble with the government by overstaying our cruising permit, perhaps there’s something you can sign or stamp that says we came by to renew our permit?” I asked hopefully.

“No,” laughing, “no stamp for dat. You can stay 12 munt on de permit.” Me, thinking yes, the permit that says 6 months is actually valid for 12. Crystal clear clarity.

“Ok, well thank you very much.”

We were still a bit wary about the status of our permit, but on the other hand it is the Bahamas, and the rural Bahamas at that, so we figured we’d just hope for the best.

From Smith Bay, warily clutching our soon-to-expire cruising permit, we continued south to an anchorage at Fernandez Bay. Because ocean doesn’t circulate much in the bay, the water temperature was in the mid 80’s (pure heaven!) and we spent over an hour slowly snorkeling around the bay and the small rock islands. The next morning we took an interesting dinghy cruise through a large mangrove swamp adjacent to the bay, then moved Miss A a short distance to New Bight town.

The anchorage at New Bight sits under the highest “mountain” in the Bahamas, Mount Alvernia (summit altitude either 206 or 207 feet, clearly a point of contention between the Bahamian government and Wikipedia). On top of the “mountain” is a most interesting structure; an Anglican priest from Australia, Father Jerome, built a 2/3 scale replica of a famous hermitage in Tuscany and lived there as a hermit back in the mid 20th century. The structure is a 15-20 minute walk from the beach, so we hiked up the short hill late in the afternoon.

Father Jerome’s hand-carved stones depicting the Stations of the Cross line the walkway, and the hermitage itself is very well designed and constructed, especially considering that it’s been abandoned for 60 years. It is certainly out of the way, but if you ever manage to get to Cat Island you should seek out this amazingly preserved hermitage.

That evening, the food shacks along the beach came to life, and we and a bunch of locals all showed up for dinner. We had conch salad and conch fritters at Duke’s Conch Shack, then went across the street to Hidden Treasure for “dessert” in the form of a Pink Flamingo Daquiri, the invention of Denise, the owner. The drink is a heavenly mix of strawberry, mango, rum, and ice, all blended up and served like a giant adult slurpee.

The next morning we took Miss A a short distance to Hawk’s Nest Point, normally an exposed anchorage, but with the south-east wind it was comfy and calm. The area just offshore to the south is famous for deep sea fishing, so the next day we tried our luck. We caught a Mahi soon after hitting the ocean water (~2000 feet deep), and then we took a lap around a seamount that comes to within 40 feet of the surface. We didn’t catch anything right at the seamount, but as we were heading back towards shore we caught something VERY big.

The line started peeling off our reel and it looked like the fish might spool our entire 1500 feet of line when it snapped. I looked up to see a marlin the size of a volkswagen jump out of the water with our lure in its mouth. The insane part of me was sad we didn’t get a closer look at the fish, and the sane part of me was thrilled that the line snapped before he knocked a hole in our boat, or broke my femur, or something. At least we had a Mahi onboard.

Since stronger winds were forecast to arrive, we abandoned our planned trip to Conception Island and motored straight back to the Exumas, a 6 hour cruise we highlighted by catching two more Mahi. We anchored off Rat Cay (Mahi for dinner!) and had a fun snorkel and dinghy cruise the following morning. From there we worked our way very slowly back north through the Exumas towards the Staniel Cay Metropolitan Area, visiting Children’s Bay Cay, the Darby Islands (Great and Little), Rudder Cut Cay, and Great Guana Island.

A final anecdote I’ll share; for the most part, there are very few boats relative to the enormous surface area of the ocean, even in popular boating spots like the Bahamas. The route from Rat Cay north to the Darbys can either be done “outside”, in the Exuma Sound, or “inside”, on the Exuma Banks. The Banks route usually only sees a boat or two every couple days; most boats are too deep a draft to make the shallow water passage in this part of the Banks. The route through the Banks is mostly wide open, except for a quarter-mile section near Tea Table Rock, where the channel is only about 30 feet wide. So that’s the setting; wide open water except for a short narrow channel, and averaging one boat per day passing through.

But as we approached Tea Table Rock, I could see another boat coming the other way across the Banks. And the closer we got, the more obvious it was that we were going to meet exactly in that narrow channel. Sure enough, we arrived at the south entrance to the narrow channel just after the other boat arrived at the north entrance. So we carved a lazy circle while the other boat navigated the channel. What are the odds? And to make it funnier, as the boat got near we saw it was a motor yacht captained by our friend Hank, who manages a housing compound and fleet of boats (including this 60’ motor yacht) on Staniel Cay for a wealthy family. We both stepped out from our flybridges and waved and shrugged at the irony of the two boats meeting in the only narrow channel during a multi-hour cruise.