Lynn's Florida to Nassau Report

January 29:  We fueled at Crandon Park Marina at the North end of Key Biscayne, Florida  and departed in the early morning, anchoring a couple of hours later in No Name Harbor, at the South end of Key Biscayne.  We had a delicious breakfast at the Boater’s Café- Cuban coffee, eggs, etc.  Cuban Coffee is sooo good.  Served in tiny little cups – very strong, very sweet, and no sludge in the bottom.  Total breakfast $4.75 per person.  The ambience and camaraderie at No Name Harbor is always so nice.  Lots of locals partying for the day – and cruisers getting ready to set off for the Bahamas.  Cubano music on the stereos, people dancing on decks, etc.  We took a little dinghy tour, visited with other boats, checked out the iguana population (green and orange, mostly) and made several new friends in the process.  Confirmed that the weather report looked manageable, and by the end of the day boats were stowing their dinghies and getting ready for a nighttime departure, or an early am takeoff.  We moved Sunspot Baby to a tie up along the wall and stowed our dinghy.  This allowed us to take Toby for the most-last-minute walk we could manage.  We went to bed and set the alarm for 6 am.

January 30:  Woke up, listened to weather (Small craft advisory, Southeast 15-20, seas 2-3, and 4-6 in the Gulf Stream.)  We are not a small craft, and the seas seemed manageable.  About 7 am, Catalyst, a 38 ft. Admiral catamaran returned to the harbor, having left in the early morning hours, found it too rough, and came back in.  But they had visitors on board who were not sailors, and a small child.  Two monohulls went out, and we decided to stick our nose out too, so we were about an hour behind them.  Several other boats followed us out. 

It was not as rough as our crossing last year, but pretty rough.  Winds were consistently east-southeast 25, sometimes higher, and seas were at least 6 feet most of the crossing.  Sunspot Baby was skewing on top of the waves and sliding down.  We are not generally seasick, but we weren’t feeling good most of the day.  Meals were limited.  Stuff was being thrown about in the cabin and we remembered that even though we are a catamaran, we probably should have stowed things better.  At least the fridge was locked down, and we have a double row of books, so books weren’t being thrown about.  The pantry lockers launched themselves into the floor, and we made some hasty retrievals of various missiles in several parts of the cabin (when we could stand to be below for a few minutes).  George (sitting on the starboard side with a south swell) took several good waves over the starboard quarter, so he was pretty wet.  I got a little wet looking out into the spray.  Our eyeglasses were salt-sprayed most of the trip.

Then it rained.  We turned on the radar and watched the rain path and kept watch for other boats.  The cushions got soaked.  We got soaked.  Water ran down off the bimini in the cockpit.  Toby was drugged up with Tums and cheese slices, so he tried to sleep.  After several rain showers, things cleared up and I got out some beach towels so we could sit in relative dryness on the cushions.  They soaked through and we had wet beach towels on wet cushions, and wet clothes.  I got more beach towels out.  We had pre-made turkey and cheese sandwiches for lunch.  Visibility being better, we turned off the radar.

Bimini came into sight.  Things cleared up.  I got out a cracker snack with peanut butter and honey.  Suddenly, with us eastbound, there was a southbound ship bearing down on us, within very close range, and even with the two of us maintaining what we thought was a very good watch, it just was right there!  We called on VHF channel 16 “We are the catamaran in front of you.  Do you see us?  Please respond.”  No response.  We called on VHF channel 13.  Same situation.  It looked like it was going to miss us, and then all of a sudden it seemed to actually turn toward us.  George “floorboarded” Laverne and Shirley (our engines), and we squeaked through, missing the ship by about ¼ mile.  We never had a response from the ship.  Other boats were listening, and one boat, Isla Bonita, said they actually saw the tanker turn.  We were weak in the knees after that, I can tell you for sure. 

Maybe no one on the bridge spoke English.  Our friend from Singapore, Rami Zolberg, is a retired sea captain, and I think we should ask him if there is a universal phrase which means that anyone on the bridge of a ship needs to take evasive action immediately – no matter what language they speak.  Sort of like “diarrhea” is the universal word for – well you know what – and you can get medical treatment for that anywhere in any country, or at least any that we have been in, even if you don’t speak that particular language.

At that point I said it would be nice if the people at the Bimini would actually answer the radio for once and we could go into Bimini, tie up at a dock, and clear customs there, rest up and deal with the remainder of the trip the next day.  However, true to form, no one in Bimini answered the radio.  By the way, a side note about Bimini is we heard the Complete Angler, Hemingway’s beloved bar hangout with all the great photos, burned down recently. 

We decided if things weren’t better on the Bank we would anchor behind Cat Island for the night.  But the  Bank was nice.  Water was that beautiful light aqua blue, even though it was the end of the day, and winds although they were about 18 knots were fine with low seas.  We had quiche and fruit for supper, set up our watches, and proceeded across the Bank through the night.  There was no moon, and lots of stars.  I had the first watch and never saw another boat.

January 31:  We changed watches through the night, and I woke George up early to make the transition into the Northwest Channel.  We had an encounter with what was probably an intracoastal tanker, who apparently didn’t know where he was going, kept wandering around off the route (in very shallow water) and shining a spotlight on us.  I called him on the radio to be sure he saw us – after the event off Bimini I wasn’t taking any chances!

The Northwest Channel was another bumpy ride.  We arrived there about 3 am, and it stayed bumpy until we were in the lee of New Providence Island, where Nassau is located.  By the time we came into Nassau Harbor, seas were very low and winds were about 11 knots.  We both had put on dry clothes and spiffed up a bit for our arrival.  George put up our quarantine flag (which we should have flown earlier, but it was too rough).

We entered Nassau Harbor about noon, making the duration of our trip about 28 hours.  We fueled first at Nassau Yacht Haven, and our favorite dock master, Sidney, helped us tie up in a slip.  Toby managed to hold out through the whole trip, and he had to wait on the boat while customs came to clear us in.  He was a happy dog to get a walk at last!  We hosed the salt off the boat, put a few things away inside, and went to dinner at the Poop Deck.  A couple of beers, some conch fritters, and a good dinner and we were ready for a good night’s sleep at last.

Next Report: Northern Exumas