Finally, A Light Wind Passage

Although we've had a lot of o'dark thirty departures, today was an easy 9:30 am departure into some very light southeasterly winds. Field Trip was kind enough to share the automated weather routing information generated by his MaxSea navigational program.

Weather Routing Module in MaxSea navigational software.

It downloads GRIB files (automated "guesses" of what the wind will be over the next 3 days) into the computer and then overlays the currents and sailing characteristics of the specific boat (in this case an Antares 44i catamaran) with the desired route you want to sail. The computer then generates this spiffy color screen that takes your rhumb line course and adjusts it to take advantage of changes in wind direction over the time period you will be sailing. Not perfect, but another tool skippers use to plan their daily passages. Our boat, a 44 ft. monohull, has different sailing characteristics than a cat so we can only use some of the suggested routing.

Mark, Walter, and Meryl ponder various options for the passage to Mayaguana.

As always, captains get together and discuss their objectives and strategies, but at the end of the day each captain has to plan his own route. Since the initial route was a little more up wind, we had a slight advantage in that a monohull can sail higher to the wind than a cat, therefore we were several miles ahead of Field Trip during the trip. All in all it was a pleasant day sailing in very light winds, with speeds of 3 to 5 knots at times. This wasn't necessarily a problem since we had 142 miles to sail and wanted to arrive at Mayaguana early the next morning so we could navigate the entrance reefs in good light. Compared with some of our other passages, we could actually go down below and walk around without feeling we were inside a washing machine on full spin.

Flying Cloud lying inside the lagoon at Mayaguana.

Mayaguana's entrance looked tricky on the chart with coral heads and shallow water, but in reality it was fairly easy to pick our way around the coral and anchor just short of the protective barrier reef in about 10 feet of water. Our first priority was finding some fuel given the upcoming long passage to the Dominican Republic. Mayaguana is a remote island with very limited facilities, so I just got on the VHF radio and called for a guy listed in the cruising guide who was supposed to have connections to get fuel. Another guy quickly replied that "so and so is dead" and that he could get us fuel.

Scully brought all my empty 5-gal. diesel tanks from town on his bike!

I borrowed five yellow 6-gal plastic diesel cans from Mark and dingied the three miles across the lagoon to the dock. The lagoon was so shallow Meryl and I managed to run aground IN THE DINGHY! We walked the dinghy in a ways until we could see a faint channel. There were two guys and a lady scrubbing the bottom of a dinghy, but unfortunately none of them were "our guy." Unfortunately when "our guy's" name came up, the three gave each other sideward glances and one confided in me that "my guy" wasn't all there if you know what I mean. My guy, however, did have a great handheld VHF so he could talk to incoming cruisers. My "new guy," Scully, told me the "old guy" would have to contact him to get any fuel anyway. Sure enough, Scully's phone rings and it's my "old guy" talking to my "new guy." I basically said I needed 30 gallons of diesel and "you guys" work it out. Scully said the only diesel was on the other side of the island and it would cost $50 just to get there in a cab -- if there were a cab -- which there wasn't. He said he had a buddy who could pick the diesel up after work and to contact Scully the next day. I left Field Trip's yellow diesel cans with Scully and left, Meryl and I shaking our heads and hoping we'd see those yellow diesel cans at some point in the future.

The next morning Mark volunteered to take my in his dinghy, which has a stronger motor and more carrying capacity. When we got to the dock there was a couple big plastic drums, but no people. You learn patience cruising. We waited for awhile and soon Scully came up the road carrying the 5 yellow plastic jerry cans (quite an accomplishment). We siphoned the diesel from the big drums to our yellow cans and discussed the state of the world with Scully. He loaded the jerry cans into our dinghy and I handed him $240 which at $8 a gallon makes it probably the most expensive diesel fuel in the world. Normally we can fill our 118 gal tank for much less than that. Well when you need it, you need it. Just the experience of talking with Scully, with his long Rastafarian dreadlocks tucked into his wool cap and his deep accent, was worth it. Went back to the boat and very, very carefully poured the diesel into the tank.

Mark showing me the "super siphon" method he picked up from Nigel Calder's book.

One good thing, Mark showed my a cool way to transfer the diesel: you put a ½ hose in the jerry can and other end in the tank, then take a small funnel or tube, put it in the top of the jerry can, seal with a rag, and blow until the tank is pressurized and the diesel start siphoning into the tank. No mess, no fuss. Thanks, Mark (and Nigel Calder). 

Later Mark offered to show me the rope of spearfishing. In The Bahamas you can only use pole spears and free diving (no SCUBA tanks) to spearfish, a great policy since most of the fish are gone anyway. I had carried a pole spear for the last several months but never used it. Mark was spear fisherman extraordinaire. He gave me the lowdown on how to do it: basically swim up to the fish, spear it, surface with the fish before the sharks eat you. The problem was I couldn't hold my breath as long as he could; he would go down and hover outside the nooks and crannies where the big fish hide and then spear them. I found some rather daring (or stupid) snappers called a yellow schoolmaster (I felt bad since Sara is a teacher) and managed to shoot my spear at one. It hit him but didn't penetrate and he was just lying on the bottom stunned and looking up at me with those big eyes saying "So what did I do today to piss you off, dude?" Well, now you know why I'm not a good hunter/gather. He did taste fairly good when Meryl cooked him up for dinner that night.

Mark meanwhile was stalking a big grouper that managed to stay just out of his reach in the caves. He got some other fish, but the problem is the minute you spear a fish the sharks start coming from out of the woodwork. You've got to get to the surface, get the spear with the fish in the air, and quickly swim back to the dingy before you're dinner for some shark. Snorkeling on the ocean side of the reefs is a lot of work, the ocean waves hit the reef and bounce back making the water very confused and with big waves. Meryl and I were wiped out after our big adventure and crashed when we got back to the boat. You keep remembering when you're doing this stuff that you're way out in the middle of nowhere and there is no US Coast Guard or 911 to rescue your ass if something goes wrong. That's the value of having a buddy boat with you.

ack at the boat and sleeping in the cockpit I hear the VHF crackle to life. It's Sara on Field Trip and she's asking for a favor. Apparently she came out of the cabin and saw a dinghy off in the distance. She mused that it might be some other snorkelers or fishermen. Then she thought that it looked a lot like their dinghy. Then she realized it was their dinghy. I can just hear the conversation: "I thought you tied up the dinghy. No, I thought you tied it up." Anyway, buddy boat to the rescue as I speed off (I like to speed off) to rescue the dinghy and to be hero for the day.

A wonderful piece of art from 5-year-old Michael on Field Trip.

One of the very nice things we got from Field Trip were a pair of drawings that Elizabeth and Michael made that we hung on the walls of our boat. They are both very good artists!
We were now on our fifth day in Mayaguana since we were waiting for a good weather window for the long passage to the Dominican Republic. A long rumored northerly was working its way down from The Bahamas and Mark was using his satellite Internet connection to keep track of the weather.

The next leg was a biggie, over 200 miles past the Turks and Caicos banks, then across a long stretch of ocean known for strong winds and big waves, normally strong tradewinds from the east. Our plan was to leave around 7:30 am the next morning and evaluate our progress as we neared the southern part of the Turks and Caicos near French Cay. If it was too rough, we could duck in behind French Cay and wait out the weather.