Unexcused Absences

June, 2018 — Central and Northern Bahamas. June has arrived, which means we’re on the final countdown for Miss Adventure’s 2018 Bahamas cruise. Fortunately, the weather cleared and we had a magnificent two weeks in the out-islands to end our season.

Our last hurrah was pretty tame, we had a final trip to our favorite anchorage between the Darby Islands, and a final party on [redacted] Cay, and a final pot-luck dinner onboard Forever Young, and a final few happy hours and pot-luck dinners on the beach at Big Major Spot, and caught a final few fish on our 3.5-day trip back to Florida.

The bizarre European villa built in ~1930 at Big Darby Island

Most of our story can be told with photos, but one picture needs a little explanation. In each of our previous two cruising seasons, we’ve caught four Tuna. Normally they’re spread out pretty evenly during our time in the Bahamas. But this year, we caught a nice Yellowfin on day two off the west coast of Nassau, so we figured we were going to be in Tuna heaven. Well, we tried and tried all season, but came up zero. Then, on our second-to-last full day in the Bahamas, while cruising north (again, off the west coast of Nassau), we caught three (3!) tasty Tuna fish.

Our three tasty Tuna (two Blackfin and a Skipjack)

This was in addition to a Mahi we caught on our first day heading back, so our final meals on our way home were, in order, herbed Mahi dinner, creole Mahi sandwiches the next day, seared Tuna dinner that night, raw Tuna and avocado (on pita chips!) lunch the next day, and baked Mahi dinner (with parmesan and breadcrumb coating). Not a bad way to end our 2018 Bahamas cruise.

Cleaning a Mahi attracts a lot of seagulls (Highbourne Cay)

The final fish tally for 2018: 4 Mahi, 4 Tuna, 3 Grouper, 10 Snapper, 1 Triggerfish, 1 Lobster (and 13 Hogfish Snapper that we didn’t actually shoot but we were there on the expedition for moral support — plus we received a good quantity of the fillets afterward).

Potluck on the beach at Big Majors

A little “floaty-toy” happy hour

Our anchorage between the Darby’s – the little dot in the center is Miss A

Dinner onboard Miss A with Linda and David

Sharks visit the Miss Adventure

The anchorage at Big Major Spot

Final pot-luck dinner on our friend’s boat

The pot-luck gang

A seriously beautiful sunset

Heather enjoys her waterproof Kindle

A go-fast boat in the southern Exumas

Anchored at Port Lucaya our last night in the Bahamas

May, 2018 — Central Bahamas. Early May found the crew of Miss Adventure on the way to Conception Island, a remote national park located between Long Island and Cat Island. Visiting Conception is difficult on our trawler; we need two days of calm weather to get there, at least a day of calm to visit, and two days of calm to return to the protected waters of the Exumas. It is possible to stage at either the northern end of Long Island or the southern end of Cat, but neither of those anchorages is very protected.

We made it over from the Exumas just fine, although I stopped counting after we had hooked five Barracuda and zero Mahi. The waters off the northern tip of Long Island are supposed to be great for fishing, but apparently, no one informed the fish of our arrival.

The fishing became more challenging when we hooked the final barracuda 20 miles offshore in water that was a mile deep. That’s pretty far offshore for a fish that is nominally a reef dweller! The fish managed to tangle the line on the boat as we brought him in. This meant that I couldn’t use the fishing pole to reel him. Instead, I hauled the rest of the line in by hand. He was pretty big, at least 4 feet in length. I released him back into the ocean and then we set about extricating the boat from the fishing line. Donning mask and snorkel, favorite wife jumped into the (mile deep) water, swimming under the boat to untangle the line. Fortunately, it was easily unraveled. Unfortunately, the large barracuda had decided to rest under the boat after being released. Fortunately, he didn’t take revenge, merely watched the process with curiosity.

Miss A anchored at Conception Island

Our two nights in Conception were pretty nice, and somehow we dodged (while at anchor) several large thunderstorms, one of which came so close that we could see rain on the water off the port side of the boat but not the starboard. The island itself is a beautiful, wild place, which we shared with only a couple other boats. The snorkeling on the north side was surprisingly below average, but the dinghy cruise through the mangrove swamp was quite nice – lots of turtles and baby sharks to see.

The northern reef at Conception

Mangrove swamp

A very close storm at Conception

After two nights, the weather was looking decidedly unsettled, so we packed up and pointed for the south tip of Cat Island. This day the Mahi were out in full force. Unfortunately, they were so big that we lost all four we hooked. One big male actually bent the hook and escaped just as I was reaching down with the gaff, and the other three either broke the leader or the line – very frustrating to arrive in Hawks Nest Marina with nothing to show for our lost lures. It was doubly bad because all around us were the crews of big sportfish boats talking about how many fish they had caught that day.

What you don’t want to see in open water

I guess the story of our pathetic fishing expedition made the rounds because one group of sportfish guys came by and gave us some nice lures to make up for our lost ones, and another group gave us two-gallon bags of fillets, one each of Mahi and Tuna. We repaid the favor after dark by showing up with a bottle of rum and the makings for ‘Ti Punch (a French Caribbean rum drink), so a frustrating day turned into a fun gathering until the wee hours with a really nice group of fisher-folk.

The next day, on our way back to the Exumas, the frustration continued — we hooked a Tuna off the Tartar Banks, only to have a shark say thanks very much for disabling him, I’ll be taking that now. About halfway across on our 50-mile trip we finally managed to land a Mahi, breaking the curse (or so we thought); it turned out to be our last Mahi for the following 5 weeks.

Our “crossing from Cat Island” Mahi

Heather performing “fillet surgery”

Our anchorage back in the Exumas at Farmers Cay

May is normally prime fishing season in the Exumas. In prior years the fish practically jump in the boat for you. This year was quite different — practically no one, neither locals nor cruisers, was catching fish. We were consoled, however, with the usual cruiser-lifestyle fun stuff; there were parties with cruiser friends, pig roasts and bbq’s on Staniel, a royal-wedding-watching breakfast, games of dominoes on rainy afternoons, and our first experience deep-drop fishing.

Freshly-baked muffins for the wedding breakfast

Josh preparing the roasted pig

Roger and I sport our parrot-head hats

The anchorage at Big Major Spot

Deep drop is sort of the opposite of trolling, where you drag lures or bait along the water surface at about 6 knots. For deep drop, you try to hold the boat still in the water while using a high-speed motorized reel to drop a cluster of baited hooks straight down to the bottom in ~800 feet of water. The fish start biting pretty much right away, and after 90 seconds or so you reel up some snapper. On a short expedition with the manager of [redacted] Cay we caught 7 snapper of several species; Blackfin, Queen, Vermillion, and Silk. This was followed by an obligatory fish fry on the island that evening.

Dropping the line

Deep-drop success

Our deep-drop haul

Fried snapper deliciousness

So other than the lack of gamefish, and quite a bit more rain than normal, May in the out-islands was pretty darned good. The only real flaw with May was that it meant we were close to June, which meant we would have to point Miss A back towards Florida in only a couple more weeks.

A rare look at dawn (for us)

The morning beach gang at Big Major Spot

One more look at Conception Island

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.

Approaching the cut between Fowl Cay and Big Major Spot

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.

Snapper, Triggerfish, and Grouper

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.

Sunset from “Large General’s Bits”

The docks at Staniel Cay Yacht Club

An isolated storm cell just missed us at “Large General’s”

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.

Party at Osprey Cay

Our friend’s boat, “Mishka”

A sunset somewhere in the Bahamas

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.

One of our few Mahi this year

Our grouper haul

Lightning and a full moon

Miss A alone at Williams Bay Cay

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.

Anchored in the Brigantine Cays

Our anchorage at Flamingo Cay

Our private beach at Flamingo Cay

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.

Our conch catch

Working on a conch

An unsuccessful spear-fish stop near the Jumentos

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.

Our stash of Trader Joe’s pita chips

Flamingo Cay, Jumentos

Our trawler, “Miss Adventure”

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.

Dusk in Lake Worth before our crossing

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.

One of many provision runs

The fridge, stocked and ready

Flying our Bahamas courtesy flag

Celebrating the Bahamas with Marc Hebrart Champagne

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.

Our Cero Mackerel

Yellowfin Tuna dinner

Sunset at Shroud Cay, just us and the superyachts

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.

The moon, Venus, and Mercury

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.

Anchored at Gaulin Cay

Pressure-testing the oil cooler

Grilled Salmon at [redacted] Cay

Beach cabana at “Large General’s Bits”

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.

My first pic with the new drone; Miss A at “Large General’s Bits”

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.

With the center-console anchored on the Banks

A low-tide sandbar near the Park

Our island home for a week, “Large General’s Bits”

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.

My first speared lobster

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!

A drone selfie; a “dronie” perhaps?

The island manager’s house under a full moon

Our view from the island manager’s house; Miss A, Big Major Spot, and Fowl Cay

A bit of boat repair; before

The railing repair; during

The railing repair; after

The evening sky from the island manager’s house

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.

A very low rainbow during our cruise home

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.

Heather in our new hammock, courtesy of Susan

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.

Sunset reflected in our solar panels

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.

Bahamas 2017 – Back to Florida

A final sunset in the Bahamas

“Miss A” anchored in Jupiter, Florida