We planned on cruising part of the way to Marsh Harbor with Redhead, but when it was time to leave our batteries were dead, and so was the generator. We instead waved goodbye to our friends and went in search of a jump. We got out late-morning and arrived early afternoon following a nice, easy ride, for once.
December 13th, Marsh Harbor
"We've been on the boat for 2 months now and we are in the Bahamas, although I'm amazed we pulled that off. All 3 of us are alive (a bit battered) and the boat still floats. The past few days have been rough - battery problems, and Cap almost gave up once (that's his one to my ?), but in the morning he recovered. Bought a battery tester and it showed all our cells (in both) were bad, so a couple new batteries may be in store."
It was getting close to Christmas and I hoped we'd stay put, as many others were doing. Sarsaparillas, a local hangout, had a pool table and Sunday football, which put Cap in heaven; and they planned a Christmas party. Besides, there wasn't a chart to be found anywhere, which seemed absurd to us; but people usually brought their own. I don't know how we thought we could make the Virgin Islands for the holidays, but Cap was still anxious to move on.
"While walking Czar I stopped to talk to someone, when all of a sudden a coconut fell out of the tree next to me. That would have hurt. Cap had his own mishap; he was in the engine compartment and the trap door fell on his head. He didn't move for a few seconds, then said his neck was probably shortened. There's TV of sorts here - one channel, but they keep switching - CNN, FX movies, the Weather Channel. You get into one story when boom - screen goes dark and up pops another channel. Can't complain though - it's nice to see something. Batteries are keeping their charge for the most part. We'll see."
"It's been a nice, relaxing time here at the marina, Yesterday an electrician fixed the battery charger. Still need a new battery, or two. Pat offered Cap a job, but he doesn't want to get into electronics. It was nice to have been offered anyway. Maybe it won't be too hard to find work down the road.I loved staying put, and since water was free I took the opportunity to give the boat a good washing. I even began scrubbing the textured ceiling, which was becoming black from the exhaust coming through the back door.
"I thought of fixing up old homes, and how you have to really work at bringing them back to life. Well, fixing this boat is not going to be a cake-walk, so I grabbed the brush, got the exhaust off and they look 100% better. 2 (ceiling) panels down, 7 to go, UGH! Brought up the clothes containers - all dry inside - put 2 back and kept one - it was like Christmas - more T-shirts!!
"Listened to a morning 'chat' radio on VHF 68 at 8:15. Lou gives weather and other bits of news, and people call in with questions and info. They ask who's going back to the States to deliver mail, and I gave a letter to a guy on this dock to mail in Miami. Cuts down on delivery time."Lou and other broadcasters we heard along the way simply enjoy researching and broadcasting useful information to boaters. These local, informal broadcasts usually lasted 5-15 minutes, depending on the number of classifieds. After the official news and weather, anyone could break in with items wanted or for sale, state who was heading where and when, and even ask for advice and information. It was our only link with the outside world, and became part of most boater's routines. Our VHF was able to pick up local broadcasts, but a Single Side Band was necessary for anything else. Herb was a well-regarded long-range weather broadcaster from Canada whose broadcasts our friends never missed (and would relay to us). They also heard a variety of regular radio programs from around the globe, and since most people left their radios on as a matter of course, I'd try to sit nearby whenever we visited.
Time was up in the marina and repairs had been made, so just when I was feeling relaxed we were going back on the hook again, but only into the harbor, Cap said.
"We didn't just go into the harbor. On that stupid 68 'chat-radio' Tomboy, another trawler, said they were heading south to Little Harbor and eventually George Town. Cap called and arranged for us to travel together. I started freaking - we had to quick go to town for groceries and quick get back so we could quick get going. But when we got back to the boat, Tomboy was gone. Oh no! (I could only hope.)"Cap located them over the radio, and after a rushed batten-down-the-hatches we were off just after noon. Cap was glad to be traveling with another trawler at relatively similar speeds, and Tom and Pam had cruised to George Town many times already. We easily caught up and followed them like a shadow for the next four days, passing island after island but rarely pausing along the way.
"See that island there? That was one of the shots from James Bond's Thunderball," Tom explained over the radio.
"Can't we stop," I asked Cap, but I already knew the answer. Our new friends were anxious to reach George Town and spend the holidays with boating friends they've made over the years, and we were in no position to object. After all, we could continue on our own at any time because Tomboy shared their personal waypoints; but Cap was worried about the batteries dying and Tom had a spare if we needed a jump, so we decided to keep tagging along.
Cap did what he could to make me happy, but fear and frustration were taking hold on several fronts: I yearned for possessions long gone; Ruff Life was disintegrating with each nautical mile; our bank account kept dwindling; and we'd burned all our bridges. On top of that, I was afraid of driving Cap away with my irrational behavior, and promised to relax more and enjoy myself. I had to.
"Going by Beacon Cay (top photo, I believe), overcast skies, small wind, listening to Mussorgsky's Night on Bald Mountain. Great music for this!''
"Played with the Autopilot again - seems to do what it wants, but Cap thinks maybe the rudder is off (out of synch?). Long day, 9-1/2 hours, and we stopped someplace called Hiborne Cay. For the past 2 days Cap has had a fishing line out while cruising, but he forgot to reel it in before stopping and what a mess! He was on his way to take Czar to the beach, then started messing with the line. All of a sudden I looked up, "Cap - the dinghy!" It was drifting away, so he had to quick put on some swim trunks and go after it.
|Pam and Tom in Paradise|
"Dinghy retrieved, we headed for the beach - beautiful, - there was a mailbox along a path and inside were books filled with the names of people who had stopped, so Cap signed us in."In the anchorage we met the folks on a huge sailboat named Glen Lyon, also traveling to George Town. There were more boats than we'd seen since Marsh Harbor, all waiting to make the passage at Rudder Cut Cay, just before George Town. We'd had a busy time crossing the shipping channel near Nassau, but the tinier 'cuts' between smaller islands were more treacherous because of the combination of wind, current and reefs.
"It was rougher out there than it's been; more like the first half-hour out of West End, except it lasted 6 hours. We cruised with Tomboy, and Glen Lyon was in the vicinity. We rocked and rolled; Cap said it was nothing like the crossing, true, but I still didn't like it. Can't imagine going to the Dominican Republic and Puerto Rico. We dropped behind and picked our way into George Town harbor. Tomboy went into Hurricane Hole #2, but we stayed at Monument anchorage, just outside. So glad to be here at last. I told Cap we were living here. Period.
"Went to Glen Lyon for 'cocktails' - 11 there, nice people, and the G.L. was beautiful - woodwork, space - they have a washer/dryer enclosed plus a workshop Cap drooled over. Good time. Oh, lost the dinghy again taking Czar to the beach and walking around. Cap ran to the water, stripping along the way (he never wore skivvies); when he was half-way wet (to his waist) another dinghy came to his rescue. I told Cap he was allowed one dinghy rescue per harbor/anchorage but Pam says that's too much."I distinctly remember that Happy Hour aboard Glen Lyon. The men were all down in the engine compartment while we women remained on deck, drinking and socializing. We'd finished with the Grand Tour and our own harrowing tales began.
When it was my turn I began with the crossing, backtracked a bit to our first venture, then trailed off, feeling self-conscious as everyone stared at me. I said,
"Of course, you all have had difficult times, too."
"Yes, dear," our hostess began, "but not all at once."
I was then asked why I hadn't just flown to George Town and met up with my husband and the boat, as many First Mates do. That's why people hire crews. Too late; I never realized there was an option.
Pot Lucks and Volleyball
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To read from Chapter 1: A Rough Start