July 5 Royal Island Harbour, Eluthera

"You just head on out to the end of the Island, take a left past the marker, and watch out for the rocks just below the surface," said the dock master, "They will be on your port side... It's shoal water to the starboard. Just favor the rocky side. Then it's a clear shot to the ocean. Have a good trip."

For the next twenty minutes I recited his directions over and over. "Marker take left... Rocks below surface on port... shoal on starboard."

I thought, "There is a boat ahead. Perhaps he knows where he's going. Just follow him, he looks like a commercial party fishing boat. "

He pulled up near the marker, slowed to a crawl, took a RIGHT toward the shoal and stopped. My leader was parking to fish. That was disconcerting. I would have to do it myself.

The charts did not inspire confidence because as I passed the marker, the plotter showed the rocks dead ahead.... "Don't do the charts, Ed, avoid the rocks," I told myself.

I hate it when the technology confuses rather than helps. We made it just fine... the rocks were at least seven feet away as we passed.

The next 35 miles were a piece of cake: open ocean with water 700 feet deep.

I remembered the advice of the marina owner, "There is a sunken ship just as you get to the bank, leave it to starboard, at low tide you can see part of it above the water."

Let's see... are we at low tide? We were approaching the bank. The chart shows a wreck about a mile away.

"Marion, can you see a wrecked ship ahead?" I asked.

She fetched the binoculars and searched the water ahead. "That could be it about 10 degrees off to starboard."  The plotter would have it about a half a mile further to the right. Again the charts were a disappointment.

We headed on to our planned anchorage in Royal Island Harbor. It's at the top of Eluthera. There is a big rock right in the middle of the entrance; its easy to see. There are sunken rocks off to the right which we were told to avoid. We entered the harbor in good light. Marion went to the bow to look for the rocks. I put engines in neutral and coasted at 1/2 knot most of the way. She could see better than I from her vantage point. She directed the turns that got us safely in. We were the only boat in the harbor.

The anchor set well on the second try, and we put on the anchor alarm for good measure.

After a while M/Y Legend came steaming into the harbour at about 6 knots. They toured the east end of the harbor before coming to the west end where we were. They set anchor about 150 yards away and one took their dinghy to shore and returned shortly.

The wind was from the east about 15 kts. Marion and I were topside enjoying cocktails. "I think they are dragging anchor," I observed, "What do you think?"

Marion replied, "They must be, because they were ahead of us and now they have moved behind."

We honked our horn to get their attention, and then signaled them to get to the radio. We appraised them of their dragging. They popped up the anchor and came around and anchored near us. After a while they took their dog to shore on the dinghy and came by to say hello. Hal and Ann live in Ft Lauderdale. Ann is originally from Houston and as a boy I delivered the Houston Post to her home. It took all these years (50) before we met. I showed Hal how to set the anchor drag alarm on his GPS. We were both heading to the Abacos the next morning so we agreed to stay in touch.

July 6 Crossing to the Abaco

Marion describes them as "National Geographic Waves". They were 8 to 10 foot seas on the starboard Quarter. They got us as soon as we rounded the tip of Eluthera and they were there for the whole trip to Little Harbor.

At first they were a challenging novelty. We would go skating down the face of the quartering wave, then bob and twist as the crest passed under us. It was sort of like an amusement park ride.

Then the waves got bigger and the motion more violent.  Down below things were crashing about. Marion could no longer go below and I was glued to the helm.  The auto pilot did a pretty good job but it could not see  the waves coming. It could not compensate for the rolling motion. I manually steered for about an hour and experimented with different steering strategies.  Marion said I did better than the autopilot... I think she was being kind... Steering did keep me occupied.

After about four hours we could see the distant shore.  After about five hours we were close enough to see the huge waves breaking on the reefs and on the rocky shoreline.

"Well Marion," I said, "we have arrived at Little Harbour Channel. Come look at this chart. There on the right, are the rocks we are seeing just over there. On the left is the point of land. The water depth is supposed to be 10 to 13 feet."

"These waves are really smashing on the shore," she said, "how will we get in?"

"We saw Legend make it in about a half an hour ago," I said, "I will call them."

They assured us that the channel depth was accurate and that the ride would be thrilling. Marion had put on her life jacket and there was one ready for me.

The last time I entered a channel with a large following sea was at Atlantic City about a year ago. The advice I was given then, came back to me. Either go faster than the waves, by at least several knots OR cutback and let them pass under you. If you go the same speed as the waves, you run the risk of broaching and loosing control. I chose to back down to about 6 knots.

That made the passage take longer but the heading could be controlled. As we moved into the shallower water the waves began to crest higher and break. They were still ahead of us.

"Prepare for some surfing," I warned Marion, "as we get to the breaking waves it will be exciting."

"You just steer the boat," she said, "I will read out the depths and watch the charts"

"23 feet...  20 feet...  18 feet... 18 feet..." she called.

The waves just rolled by under us. Then "15 feet... 13 feet... 16 feet..." as a wave lifted us.

We were so close in, there could be no turning back. "Here we go, Honey," I called out as the wave passing us crested. We began to surf down the front of the wave.

I looked down at the instruments, we were up to 9 knots as the wave passed under us.

There would be at least three more of these whitewater surfing waves before the water smoothed out.

"13 feet... 13 feet... 11 feet... 4.5 feet..." The water was a sea of white foam all around us.

I glanced down and saw the 4.5 reading.  "Oh shit... Hang on,"  I shouted.

The next reading was a reassuring 11 feet. We were crossing the shallowest part of the entrance. A few waves later and we were back in 16 feet of water.

"Wow, that was pretty exciting," I said.

"That was awful, and I'm never going to do that again," said Marion.

"I can't guarantee it will never happen again, and we still have to get back to Florida."

"Let's sell the boat." she said, still in the excitement of the moment.

"First a quiet anchorage, a martini on the rocks, then we will cruise the Abacos, then we sell the boat."

"You are just hoping to change my mind," she said.

"No, I'm hoping for good weather. And I will be sure to get a reading on sea states before we leave port."

Little Harbour

The cruising guides recommend entering the harbour on a high or at least a rising tide. To be truthful the tide was still low as we entered, but it was rising. We had had enough cruising for the day and wanted to get onto a mooring.

Whenever we come through calm skinny water I cut speed to less than 1 knot, and coast with the engines in neutral. The boat won't get damaged if it rubs the bottom. Rudder is amid ship, and a pulse forward on the appropriate engine maintains headway and steerage. If the water is clear, Marion goes forward and looks for rocks and shallows.

Little Harbour channel is narrow, but well marked.  It is only shallow for about 40 yards and we glided through without touching. Depth never got less than 5 feet. We could see why the guides recommend passage on high tide; there was stuff on either side that we could have hit.

The harbour had about 10 sail boats and one other power boat. All were anchored or on moorings. There were two docks with an assortment of small power boats and one large sail boat tied up. We found the last available mooring ball and tied up.

Little Harbor is famous as the home of Pete Johnson's bronze art studio and gallery. That's also where you pay $10 for your mooring.  Randolph, Margot and son Pete Johnson founded the colony in the 50s.
Randolph died in 1992, but his original mold are still in use producing striking bronze sculptures. We visited the Gallery and admired the works of Johnson and other local artists. These original pieces are out of our reach, but we love to look.
 

Next door is Pete's Pub.  The Kalick beer is very cold at Pete's. Just over the dunes from Pete's Pub is the rocky shore line and several offshore rocks named the Boilers. We went over to see how the approach looks from the shore.

Little Harbour Channel is just beyond the point of land seen in the picture (left). The rocks on the starboard side are barely visible in this photo. This is where we came surfing in a couple of hours before this shot.  BTW How do you like my sideburns? We did a dinghy tour of the small harbour going back to the boat. The other power boat was a 60 foot catamaran. One of the sail boats was Daze Off.  We would meet them later at Green Turtle Cay.

July 7- 8 Hope Town

Our trip from Little harbour to Hope Town was only 16 miles. Almost all of it is sheltered from the ocean by the barrier reef and small cays. There was a half hour when we were not protected, it reminded us of the previous day but was not near as bad.

We arrived in the harbour before noon and found a mooring ball that another boat had just vacated. There were tens of boats anchored outside the harbor. This was the next to last available mooring. We were very lucky because the harbor remained full, and boats kept coming in to look for moorings. Anchoring is discouraged because it conflicts with the moored boats.
 

Hope Town is on Elbow Cay, the eastern most island of the Abacos.  It is a very picturesque town and is the home of the most famous light house in the Bahamas.  The first afternoon we visited the light house. There are 101 steps to the top and three intermediate stops where you can rest and look out the window. The Light is still in operation using the original oil burning lamps.  The turning lamp table is wound up like a grandfather clock. Each windup lasts about 1.5 hours.

 

Hope Town Harbour -- taken from Lighthouse 
Use Scroll left and right to view

Day Two Hope Town
 

We took the bikes ashore in the dinghy so we could explore most of the island.  We first headed north along the single lane street that bisects the town.  It soon becomes a somewhat rough road graded in the rocky terrain. Golf Carts are the principal mode of transportation on most of the cays. We brought swim suits and snacks.

 

The Island has perhaps a hundred cottages and vacation homes outside of the main town. In the woods ahead of Marion there is a grand three story home atop the bluff. Many of the homes have new roofs since Floyd came through in 1999. The high bluffs gave good protection from the waves and rising water. The basic houses stood up.

 

On our return trek through town we went to the Hope Town Inn for lunch. They have an ocean side fresh water pool and a bar that serves a wonderful grilled grouper sandwich.  Rating *** $$ We had strawberry daiquiris for dessert.

 

After lunch we had a dip in the pool to cool off. This popular swimming hole attracts pretty ladies. That evening we had the first of several thunderstorms.  In the morning I found about 6 gallons of fresh rainwater had collected in the dinghy. There was another 2 gallons in the sailboat.  What a godsend, water sells for 15 to 30 cents a gallon, and we ration our consumption.

July 9-10 Marsh Harbour

It was still threatening weather as we headed for Marsh Harbour. The trip is only 8 miles so we took our time leaving Hope Town.

It rained hard for about 30 minutes while we were under way. As it cleared Marion saw an empty dinghy ahead in the bay. It was a bit off course but we decided to investigate.

It was a fine new dinghy with markings T/T Haze. There was a line in the water off the bow.

"Lets rescue it, tow it to Marsh Harbor and report it when we get in?" I said.

"Sounds like the right thing to do," said Marion.

I pulled alongside and Marion snared its bow line with our boat hook. As I pulled away Marion could not hold the dinghy.  The boat hook was pulled from her hand and floated precariously off the stern of the dinghy.

"Ed, I lost the boat hook," she called out.

"Don't worry I'll  just stop the boat, swim over and get it." I said.

"You be careful."

"Don't worry, I will be safe," I said as I threw the Man Over Board ring out ahead of me.

I swam out and fetched the pole. It turns out that the boat was firmly anchored. There was no way Marion could have pulled it up with the boat hook.

Back aboard we used the radio to report the dinghy Haze was found in the bay.

An unnamed person identified Haze as a sailboat that was in the ongoing race. The boat was anchored as a mark of the course. They were pleased we had not moved it.

"Well," I said, "we meant well."

We continued on to Marsh Harbour and checked into the Conch House Marina. Its also the headquarters of the Moorings Leasing operation. We needed food, water and diesel after being on the hook for four nights.

We went for a walk toward town and strolled the piers of the other marinas. We were comparison shopping --- after the fact. On the third marina we could see a Texas Flag flying on one of the boats.

The boat was from Houston and the name was Somewhere Hot.

"Don't we know that boat?" said Marion.

We had never seen it before, but the name was familiar. "That's Bert Brinson's boat." I announced for all the world to hear. Then looking closer I added, "And that must be Bert himself, sitting on the sun deck."

We bought our boat Remedy from Bert over two years ago. It's former name was Permanent Wave.

He called Judy out to meet us and explained the we had their old boat. I told them we were very pleased with Remedy, and that we had done about 10,000 miles on her without problems. They spend most of their time living aboard at Marsh Harbour. They recommended several good places to dine.

Yes, It is a small world.

And the lesson is: Always fly your Texas Flag.

In search of Junkanoo

The next day was Bahamian Independence day and we had heard there was to be a Junkanoo festival in celebration of the 28th year of Bahamas nationhood.

A young kid at the Marsh Harbour corner store said the Junkanoo would be in Murphy town at the elementary school grounds. I studied my Marsh Harbour charts and Murphy town does not show. We decided to take the bikes and find the festival by asking directions along the way.

The streets were deserted, the stores were all closed, it was a holiday. We rode out in the direction of the Airport looking for the Festival.
 

At last we saw a Taxi and I flagged it down and asked where Murphy Town was.  The driver gave us some general directions, and said it was a long way. Our 10 mile round trip was a good workout... we found Murphy Town... BUT the festival was the night before. On the way back we saw our first curly tail lizard. He's cute, isn't he?