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Terysa

We Sailed the Gulf Stream to the USA!

Gulf Stream Crossing: Day 1

After much um-ming and ah-ing, we settled on a departure time of first thing Wednesday morning. There was some concern over our eventual arrival time as it looked like we’d be getting in to Charleston in the middle of the night. Nick and I didn’t have an electronic chart for anywhere north of Florida, so we’d be relying on our iPhone navionics app. We were a little concerned that trying to navigate by iPhone in the pitch black in a busy port we were completely unfamiliar with may lead to some stressy moments. However, we put that concern aside as a bridge to cross when we came to it, and motored out of the anchorage at first light.

It was a light-wind day and so we put up the Parasailor in order to make as much speed as possible. Usually we fly the Parasailor asymmetrically with a cuff over the forestay, however because we were dead downwind that wasn’t really working. So we rigged a guy which we ran through the block at the bow and, after quite a bit of fiddling with tensioning the lines, had her flying reasonably well until the wind died off completely.

We were hugging the contour lines all day and so had high hopes of catching some fish. However, neither us nor Salah (our buddy boat aka, Bo and Allison- but you knew that already) had any luck whatsoever, confirming us as the worst fishermen (fisherpeople?) in the history of the world. We blamed the barracuda who took our favourite lure several weeks ago.

That night I went to bed early, about 8pm, and managed to sleep until 1am, at which point I relieved Nick and sat up as long as I could. I was kept entertained throughout my watch by a crazy thunderstorm that we slowly skirted around. The lightening was utterly majestic and captivating. The entire skyline lit up, tracing the shape of the storm clouds climbing into the black sky. Occasionally, thick, stubby lightening bolts struck the sea beneath. I was very glad we weren’t underneath them.

Gulf Stream Crossing: Day 2

The following day was steaming hot and we struggled to keep cool. Clothing became optional at this point and Nick resorted to dousing himself in seawater every ten minutes. We still hadn’t caught any fish, but on the upside we had entered the Gulf Stream! Suddenly we had picked up an extra 3 knots, and even though there was no wind- at all- we were still powering along nicely. An uneventful day turned into an uneventful night and once again we split the night watches in two to give us both a chance at a decent sleep.

Clothing optional.

Gulf Stream Crossing: Day 3

The third day was a bit cooler much to our relief. We skirted around squalls which played havoc with the wind: one minute it was nothing, the next 17 knots on the nose, then clocking round. The point where we left the Gulf Stream was quite clearly marked by choppy, confused waves followed suddenly by smooth, glassy seas. We were expecting to get into Charleston the early hours of the following morning, and the most glorious evening concluded our time crossing to the USA. We were joined many times throughout the day by dolphins, but it wasn’t until the seas had smoothed out that we got a chance to go to the bow and really enjoy their antics. The water was incredibly clear; it was like looking through blue glass.

We took our usual watches, and I went back to bed around 2am. We could clearly see the lights of the ‘runway’ at this point (the marked channel that extends 15 miles from the coast) but I still managed a couple of hours sleep before I was almost thrown from my bed by the wake of the hundred or so sports-fishers that came zooming past. It transpired that there was a tournament of some kind on that weekend (it was Saturday) so perhaps we got unlucky, but having dozens of very powerful fishing boats speeding towards us in the pre-dawn light was a little disconcerting.

Coming into Charleston was an awesome feeling. Firstly, the three day passage was behind us and we could look forward to getting a full night’s sleep (always welcome). More importantly, we were finally in the USA, something we’d been anticipating for a long time. The stark contrast between the isolation and raw beauty, coupled with limited facilities such as supermarkets of the Bahamas (and much of the rest of the Caribbean), and the evident abundance of wealth surrounding us now was quite striking. We later learned that some of these waterfront mansions were worth tens of millions of dollars. Compare that to some parts of the Caribbean, where an entire town was probably worth less than that and, well, you get the idea.

We pulled into St John’s Yacht Club, called US Customs and Immigration and an hour later were sitting in front of two very friendly officers who warmly welcomed us to the country and happily stamped our passports with a six month visa. We could finally relax, take a nap, and get settled into what would be our home for the next month.

July 7, 2017 0 comment

Bahamas

The Best of the Abacos & Eleuthera

Heading North Through Eleuthera & The Abacos

Our weather window for our passage north was approaching so it was time to get, well, north. We hadn’t planned to stop in Eleuthera because of time constraints, but Spanish Wells was by far the most convenient stop-off point between the Exumas and the Abacos, so we went for it.

We had to sail- well, motor-sail- across the Exumas Bank and it was super shallow and full of coral heads. The sky was overcast and the breeze was up so visibility wasn’t great either, making the passage a bit of a nerve-wracking one. We tried to have one of us at the bow as a lookout but it was pointless; the coral heads weren’t visible until we were almost upon them anyway. We ignored the Navionics charts altogether, which might as well just scrawled the words “YOU SHALL NOT PASS” across the chart. The Garmin charts were unerringly accurate which took some of the stress out.

We made it to Eleuthera in the early evening and sought to find protection from the southerly winds. They weren’t strong enough to be dangerous, but not light enough to be ignored either: around the 20 knot mark. Salah beat us there and anchored in the first possible spot, but having looked at the charts I was doubtful of the protection that particular anchorage would afford. As we motored around the point and the anchorage came in to view, I was proven right; it was choppy enough to show white caps on the water but for some reason that didn’t prevent about 8 boats anchoring there. We were tired, the other possible anchorage was 5 miles away and we reasoned that if all these boats were putting up with the crappy conditions here, the only anchorage in the area that showed protection from southerly winds was likely to be packed. Nick wasn’t keen but I gave him the Look that said, “I’m not happy about this and I will continue to be not happy about this all night long, particularly if I get a bad’s night sleep which let’s face it, I probably will and I won’t let you forget it.” We turned around and left the anchorage.

Nick made it very clear over the next 5 miles that if this next anchorage was no good- which was entirely possible; there were only 2 Active Captain reviews on it and our cruising guide ominously left out any information at all- I was solely to blame and spending a total of two hours motoring around looking for an anchorage at the end of a long day was a sure way to put us in a bad mood. The charts showed some pretty shallow patches, which was why Salah hadn’t attempted it in the first place, but we had just enough depth and soon enough we were at our destination.

It was flat calm and had exactly one catamaran anchored. We immediately radioed Salah to come and join us and we- especially I- couldn’t help but feel a little smug that we were going to have a wonderfully calm night while all those other boats sat out the blow at the first anchorage. It’s possible that the shallow depth put one or two of them off, but most of them were catamarans so probably not. Just another example of herd mentality I guess.

Spanish Wells

The next day we dinghied over to Spanish Wells, the town. It was very hot and still windy, and we had no idea where we were going. We tied up against the quay, and were quickly told by a friendly local to move because we would be in the way of a car ferry- which turned up only minutes later and proved to be little more than a raft with a motor attached to the back of it. It was run by three identical-looking men in Amish-style clothing who confidently handled a big jeep-type car (I’m no good with cars…) onto the narrow platform and away they went. We were quite amazed.

There was mention of hiring a golf cart but perhaps no-one wanted to be the one to insist we paid the money, or perhaps no-one wanted to admit that they couldn’t be bothered walking, because this suggestion was ignored. We regretted the decision only minutes later as we trekked around the island looking for a supermarket in the oppressive heat, very aware that every step was taking us further and further from the dinghy. We found the supermarket at last, glad for the moment to simply be somewhere that was air-conditioned, and after stocking up managed to get a lift back to the dinghy with our groceries. The driver even stopped at the liquor store so we could pick up some beers. Happy days!

Our Last Stop in the Bahamas!

Our next destination was the Abacos, and it was another long day of motoring. It was hot and muggy and uncomfortable. Late afternoon the rain finally came, breaking the humidity and giving us some relief. We anchored just inside the cut for the night and the next morning moved on to a little island called Sandy Spit, which wasn’t really an anchorage but was supposed to have good snorkeling.

We had kind of given up on snorkeling in the Caribbean. The coral and sea-life has been disappointing; what was surely once beautiful coral reefs teeming with tropical fish has now often been destroyed by the human impact on this area, and now you’re more likely to find dead or dying coral with only a few fish. It’s been a little depressing seeing the affect our presence has had on the marine life in this area. However, we hadn’t been swimming in a few days and I was keen to make the most of it while we could; soon we’d be in the USA.

Well, it turned out to be the best snorkeling I’d done in the Caribbean. As I’ve made clear, the bar hasn’t been set particularly high, but even so. It was all healthy and there was plenty of marina life to look at: big schools of fish, turtles, spotted rays, and even a black-tip shark which I didn’t see- thank God- but Bo and Allison did. They didn’t tell me until after we got back in the dinghy. It transpired that Allison freaked out (understandable) but when she tried to make for the dinghy to get out of the water, the shark was in her way, so instead she turned and stayed with the rest of us and I was none the wiser. I don’t think they’re dangerous, but still. I’ve only just gotten used to nurse sharks and they’re practically like the lazy cats of the sea.

Next stop was Hopetown. We lingered about a mile away, just off a resort called Firefly for two nights because Bo and Allison had been here the year before and had a life-changing burger. Now, I have a strict Never Turn Down A Burger policy but I was a little sceptical. We only had a few more days in the Bahamas before we had to leave; was this really the best use of our time? We were, after all, going to be in the States in less than a week and if there’s anywhere you can find a good burger, surely it’s there. But we stopped, we went, we ate and ohmygodthatburger! I will never doubt Bo and Allison when it comes to finding a good burger again.

Hopetown is a pretty and quaint little town full of colourful weather-board clad houses surrounding a lagoon on one side and the ocean on another. It would be the perfect place to have a holiday and I was a little regretful that we hadn’t been able to show Nick’s parents this area. The lighthouse is perhaps the only tourist attraction per se, and we dutifully climbed the never-ending spiral staircase to the top. It’s one of the few manual lighthouses left in the world, which is interesting (I guess..?) but the real point of the hike was the magnificent views from the top.

We made an overnight stop at Man of War Cay which is host to a typically Bahamas-gorgeous beach. Bo bought along their SLR (I’ve been verrrrry lazy with mine this season…) and, willing to go to any lengths to get a fun, Instagram-worthy photo, Allison and I frolicked- badly- in the turquoise water and pulled some yoga moves- badly- on the soft white sand. Once again there was a pretty wide discrepancy between the glamorous shot we were aiming for, and the actual photos that were taken.

There was a LOT of running around laughing!

After many, many attempts, I finally managed a headstand. Allison curled up in a sandy ball next to me was exactly the backdrop I had envisioned.

Hysteria ensued.

Even Nick couldn’t resist the old ballerina pose!

WE’RE IN THE BAHAMAS!

Now, walking along a beach IS something I can do.

Cheerio Bahamas!

Finally it was time to leave the Bahamas. Our feelings were pretty clear: we were ready to leave. I don’t really even know why. There’s no doubt that the Bahamas are lovely. We’d been looking forward to exploring the Bahamas for as long as we’ve had the boat (this photo, taken in the Exumas, inspired us to buy the boat in the first place). However we left feeling like we probably weren’t going to come back. I’m not sure I can put my finger on why. I guess we’re just ready to find a different type of cruising ground. I thought the Bahamas was going to be remote, serene, isolated, gorgeous- perfect. They were certainly gorgeous, but as I said last week, beauty comes in so many forms that it’s impossible to say the Bahamas is more beautiful than any other Caribbean destination. As for remote and isolated, well, we didn’t have a single night that we weren’t joined by at least one other boat. After two years in the Caribbean I’d expect nothing less, but I had hoped for a bit more isolation that we’d experienced so far. Definitely not- the Bahamas is a very popular cruising ground and getting away from the crowds proved impossible for us- particularly in the Exumas, Eluthera and the Abacos. Additionally, we were very much ready for a change of scene. We were craving city life, big supermarkets, craft beer, shopping, restaurants… the list goes on.

And so we headed, at long last, to the USA.

Sailing the Exumas: Pigs, Mermaids & Cocktails

So I’ve been working on this week’s video and blog while in Charleston, South Carolina- and boy, I really miss the Bahamas! Don’t get me wrong. We are loving the USA. But I remember being in the Exumas and, although we loved it, we couldn’t wait to get north and I’m afraid that distracted us somewhat from the unique beauty of that part of the world. However, one good thing about these videos is that we can relive these moments we should have been paying more attention to at the time!

The Jewel of the Bahamas…?

The Exumas are one of the most popular cruising areas of the Bahamas. We had been told many, many times how incredible the Exumas are and how much we would love it. To say our expectations were high is an understatement. Perhaps they were too high… There’s no doubt that the Exumas are absolutely beautiful. But so are many areas of the Caribbean, and it’s impossible to compare the mountainous beauty of Saint Lucia for example, to the flat sandy beaches of the Bahamas. The Exumas were beautiful in that raw, natural, understated way- as opposed to, for example, the magnificence of Maho Bay in St John, or the volcanic jungle-covered peaks of Dominica. Where the Exumas really excelled were in the gorgeous sugar-soft sand and gin-clear water that was a thousand shades of blue. Which, let’s face it, is what we all picture when we think of the Bahamas.

We spent two weeks with Nick’s family in Georgetown and exploring the cays just to the north of Great Exuma. His parents are not sailors and certainly aren’t used to being on boats, but they took to the lifestyle like the troopers they are and we had some great days sitting at anchor, swimming and exploring the often-deserted beaches. One memorable highlight was diving on the underwater sculpture of a mermaid playing a piano. We had big plans to capture some very cool underwater shots of us sitting on the bench with the mermaid, pretending to join her in a duet, but even though it wasn’t deep the current was very strong. Fighting against it in order to get down- and stay down- was exhausting. Only Nick managed it with any success.

Once we’d dropped Nick’s parents back in Great Exuma for their flight, Nick and I did a jump up to Staniel Cay to meet Bo and Allison. Staniel Cay is probably the most popular area of the Exumas- and for good reason. There are several anchorages that provide shelter from almost all wind directions, and the main one at Big Majors (where the pigs are) is perfectly protected from the prevailing easterly winds. This was a pleasant change after several weeks of anchorages that almost always had at least a slight roll.

Reunited with Bo and Allison!

The water was gorgeously clear and we certainly got our wildlife fix while in Staniel Cay (although not sure how ‘wild’ the pigs are… but more on that later). There were plenty of nurse sharks in the water, and although they kind of freaked me out at first- I mean, SHARKS!- I soon learned that they were pretty harmless as far as sharks go. Because I like to be able to enjoy myself while swimming in the clearest water I’ve ever seen without the fear of a shark sneaking up behind me, I Googled “Do nurse sharks harm humans” and found to my intense relief that there was only one recorded incident of a nurse shark attacking a human, and that was in Florida where some stupid woman was holding it by its tail and trying to feed the poor animal. She ended up in hospital with a pretty severe bite to the hand, and frankly, she deserved it.

The Problem With Piggy Beach

Pig Beach is clearly one of the major attractions here, which I’m not sure I totally get. I’ve never considered pigs to be cute. I know that they must be kind of cute, because people are always like, “AWW! What a cute PIIIG!” but my feeling has always been that they’re dirty, messy and, well, un-cute creatures that belong on a farm eating food scraps. Also, they taste damn good, which, as far as I’m concerned, is really their main purpose for existing (what? I like bacon).

We waited until the evening to visit the pigs not only because we thought it would be a good photo op, but also because we weren’t interested in joining the hoards- hoards!- of day trippers and tourists from Staniel Cay and other nearby resorts. The plan worked, and we got the beach- and the pigs- to ourselves. We took a few old carrots and a zucchini- which even the pigs wouldn’t touch- plus a bit of popcorn (turns out pigs eat anything) and plenty of fresh water.

We had watched a recent Gone with the Wynns episode where they talked about animal tourism and how the animals involved almost always come out worse for having stupid tourists feed them, take selfies with them, and pat, poke and prod them. The pigs of Pig Beach had had a rough time of it lately. Earlier in the year quite a few of them suddenly died, and the blame was firmly levelled at the tourists who came to feed the pigs- and “silly sailors” who apparently fed them alcohol. I can’t imagine any of the hundreds of cruisers we have met doing something so stupid and ignorant as feeding animals alcohol- on the whole, sailors have a huge amount of respect towards their environment and any local wildlife. I believe the pigs’ autopsy came back with no mention of any alcohol in the pigs’ system, so that quote seems to have been unfounded.

The pigs had been living in the wild for decades (nobody really knows how they got there in the first place), foraging for food as wild animals tend to do. But with the influx of tourism in the area, and no controls or warnings in place to prevent people from feeding the pigs, the pigs basically became lazy and began to rely on humans to feed them. What actually caused the deaths is a little unclear, but it may have been too much sand and not enough fresh water in their diet.

Now the pigs are tagged and there appears to be a warden on the beach looking after the pigs. I think there are plenty of pigs in the world that are domesticated, so feeding them isn’t a problem in itself. But if we’re going to feed them and make them reliant upon humans, then the least we can do is look after them and make sure they’re healthy in return. It appears some steps are being taken in that direction.

Underwater Surprises in Thunderball Grotto

Another major attraction in the Staniel Cay area is Thunderball Grotto, where the James Bond film “Thunderball” was filmed. I’m not going to lie: the snorkelling in the Caribbean has been, overall, disappointing. A lot of the coral is dead or, at best, dying a slow and horrible death and there are very few fish. So my expectations were low. Happily, the underwater world in the Bahamas in general has been far superior to many other parts of the world we’ve sailed to. The coral was healthy for the most part, and the fish population was seemingly thriving. (Actually, the best snorkelling was in the Abacos, but more on that next week.)

Dinghy Exploration in Shroud Cay

Our final stop in the Exumas was in Shroud Cay, a pleasant spot that we chose mainly as a strategic jump-off point for our next passage north. We only stayed for a night, and spend the early evening taking a dinghy trip down a creek that cuts through the island and emerges on the Exuma Sound side. There was a narrow cut through which the current flowed strongly, and we had way too much fun jumping in the water and allowing the strong current to push us through the cut and deposit us on the sandy beach on the other side. No need for swimming or exertion here! Just float along and you’ll end up on the other side in no time!

The Exumas had been a fun, activity-filled stop on our whirlwind tour of the Bahamas. Although we didn’t get to see everything we’d originally wanted- time was the enemy and we had to get north in time for the beginning of hurricane season- we got a brilliant taster at what this part of the world has to offer.

June 23, 2017 3 comments

Bahamas

The Bahamas: High Highs, Low Lows

It seems to me that the Bahamas really is a mixture of high highs and equally low lows.

This dichotomy is pretty well represented in today’s video and blog. After hiding from some windy weather in Aklind Island we headed to Long Island. This was another long day sail of about 65 miles and despite looking forward to exploring what Long Island had to offer, we were feeling quite impatient to just get to the Exumas. They are, after all, considered to be the jewel in the Bahamas crown, so to speak, and I had seen so many gorgeous photos on Instagram of crystalline turquoise water lapping sugar-soft sandy beaches that I just had to get there now. But Bo and Allison managed to convince us to stop at Long Island and, quite frankly, Nick and I couldn’t be bothered with doing an overnighter. So, Long Island it was.

The day was not a good one, weather wise. The wind was fluking around non-stop, and because a bird had stolen our wind vane (or at least, I’m blaming the bird…), we were unable to discern the wind speed and direction, except by using the old fashioned method of looking around us and feeling the breeze on our face. We had enough wind for the Parasailor until we didn’t, and the heavens opened just as Nick was taking the thing down on the foredeck. He got absolutely soaked, bless him.

The sun eventually came back out, but the wind continued to fluke around and we spent the day putting up sails, taking them down, poling out the jib, taking the pole down, turning the engine on, turning it back off, etc etc. Not a ‘set the sails and leave them’ kind of day at all. However, we made it to Clarence Town in daylight- our only real objective- and weaved our way around some coral heads and sand banks before setting anchor in a sandy shallow patch. Bo and Allison had caught a mahi mahi that day, so we launched the dinghy and went over for fish tacos, before heading to bed early. This sailing thing can be really exhausting!

Oh that water!

One thing Nick and I hardly ever do is rent a car and explore an island by vehicle. It just doesn’t happen. It’s expensive for one, and also we’d rather explore the different parts of an island by boat. Also- we’re lazy. However, Bo and Allison’s presence took care of the first problem, as we could split the cost in two, plus we desperately- and I do mean desperately– needed some provisions and there was nothing within walking distance. So, we headed to the car rental place, managed to haggle down from $90 to $45 because the car was in a bit of a state, and took a day exploring Long Island.

We had read that there was the World Freediving Championships taking place that week at the world’s deepest blue hole. This seemed like too good an opportunity to pass up, so we made that our first stop. We weren’t sure how we were going to be able to watch a sport that’s taking place several hundred feet underwater, but figured the atmosphere would be entertaining enough. When we got to Dean’s Blue Hole, however, there didn’t seem to be much activity. Allison was sent to investigate and it transpired that we managed to time our day out with a rest day. Of course we did. One of the competitors, a lovely Italian chap called Davide Carrera, chatted to us for some time about the competition and freediving in general. It turned out his PB was 116 metres!! Like, I can barely dive the anchor when we’re in 4 metres! I guess that’s why I’m not competing in the Freediving World Championships…

Deepest blue hole in the world!

It was a shame we weren’t going to be able to watch some truly awesome freediving, but Nick and Bo got over their disappointment by ordering a surprisingly good burger and beer from a nearby hut on the beach, and we headed off again. This time our destination was on the very northern tip of the island, a resort called Cape Santa Maria in Calabash Bay.

How gorgeous is this beach!?

This was slightly more upmarket than we were used to: lots of white villas sitting on the world’s most perfect beach. Shallow blue water, white sand, swaying palm trees: you name it. We had a decent lunch in the upstairs restaurant before returning back to the boat via a grocery store that from the outside looked very unpromising, but actually stocked loads of good fruit and veg. We stocked up on the important things- chips, dips, beer and cereal- and headed back to the boat.

One of the islands MANY churches. We lost count at 20…

Calabash Bay was so beautiful- not to mention directly en route to Georgetown, our next destination- that we decided to spend the night there. The conditions weren’t quite as ludicrously idyllic as they had been the previous day, but that didn’t matter; we went for an evening pina colada to celebrate Bo and Allison’s anniversary at the bar, had dinner and then the next morning went our separate ways. They were heading to Conception Island (which turned out to be their favourite island in the Bahamas) but Nick’s parents were flying into Georgetown in a few days and we thought they would take a dim view of us not being there to pick them up.

And so, after an enjoyable upwind sail (not a typo- it really was a great sail!) we arrived in Georgetown on Great Exuma, was welcomed by another mad thunderstorm followed by an equally mad sunset, and rolled out the welcome mat for our latest guests.

June 16, 2017 0 comment

Bahamas

Crazy Storms & Perfect Beaches in the Bahamas

After an overnight stop in Mayaguana, we start the first of many long day sails to get up to the Exumas. The weather turned and yesterday’s bright blue skies and light winds have been replaced with thick cloud cover, making exiting the harbour a stressful experience as we couldn’t see the coral heads with any clarity. The dark patches weren’t visible until we were almost on top of them, and even then discerning the depth was pretty much impossible. However, we had a secret weapon: our friends Bo and Allison on Selah who followed their incoming track, and we simply followed them.

Once we had exited the reef and were on our way, the skies started to darken and the temperature dropped. Even though the camera couldn’t pick it up, we could see lightening and hear thunder all around us. It started to rain heavily and the radar was picking up a dark patch of activity in front of us. The storm front was clearly visible as a black mass ahead. We couldn’t tell which direction it was moving, so we continued on course in the hope it would move out of our way. Although it was a little scary- it was our first time caught in an electrical storm, and I couldn’t help but imagine what would happen if our mast was struck by lightening- it passed soon enough and apart from giving Ruby a thorough rinse, we all came out of it unscathed.

As we arrived into the Plana Cay anchorage in the early evening the clouds started to break up and by the time we were ready for our BBQ’d steak (thanks Costco in Puerto Rico!), we had a beautiful sunset to gaze at as we were gently rocked by the slow waves making their way into the bay.

Selah at anchor

The next morning we woke after a restful sleep to find Selah facing a completely different direction to us. After a few minutes of bleary deliberation, our brains finally fired up and we realised they had rigged an anchor bridle. We were puzzled- there had been a brief moment of rocky swell overnight, but it had barely registered with us; we merely rolled onto our stomachs and went back to sleep. We radioed Bo and he said they had had a terrible night dealing with swell to the point where it was impossible to sleep- hence the bridle, which he rigged at 2am. It was interesting that although we were so close in proximity, the motion of the swell affected our boats in very different ways.

We sailed the relatively short distance to Acklin Island- only about 25 miles. Once again we trolled the line, and this time we were rewarded at last! As we were approaching Atwood Harbour, in only 20 metres of water, the line went and we excitedly jumped up and Nick began the process of reeling the fish in. Our sails had already been dropped, so it was an easy prospect to slow the boat. As Nick brought the fish in, we realised we had a mahi mahi! We were so excited, I cannot tell you. I hurriedly attached the camera to one of the winches in the cockpit, aimed the lens in roughly the direction of the back of the boat, and got down to the business of gaffing the fish.

Well. It’s a lot easier said than done, let me tell you. The fish was flapping madly (understandable) and getting the hook in the gills proved to be impossible- for me, at least. I tried with the net, which turned out to be about 50 times too small to hold a big mahi, and in the end- with no help from me- Nick simply hauled the thing over the guardrails and into the cockpit. Success!

Atwood Harbour turned out to be not only exceptionally beautiful but very well protected from the strong easterly winds that were forecasted over the next few days. We weren’t alone; there were about five other yachts that joined us to wait out the windy weather, and we all got together on one memorable afternoon to have a fresh conch salad, prepared by Fedel, a local guy who was building a little hut (which he hoped to turn into a bar for cruisers) down one end of the curving bay. It was the first time I’d had conch like that and although it was certainly a tasty salad, the conch itself was a little underwhelming. It tasted like tough squid, frankly! But we greatly appreciated the effort Fedel went through to provide the salad for us- he didn’t even accept payment.

In retrospect, Atwood Harbour proved to be one of the most beautiful beaches we visited during our time in the Bahamas, made even more so because of its isolation, and had the weather been less inclement we would have spent a lot more time swimming and diving on the reef that protects the entrance. After five days there, it was time to continue to make our way to Georgetown, and so once again we hauled anchor and sailed somewhere new.

June 10, 2017 5 comments

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How Much Does it Cost to Sail Around the World?

This is it- the big question that everyone wants answered! How much does it cost to sail around the world? We try and answer this question as best we can in this week’s video.

Here’s a breakdown of what we believe a realistic cost to be:

Boat: $30,000 upwards. Most cruisers who are planning circumnavigation or offshore cruising will buy a boat that is considerably more expensive than this. We would recommend that if you’re buying used, it’s best to buy a boat that is already kitted out.
Monthly budget for 2 people in the Caribbean and Europe: $3000
Slush fund: as much as you can afford! We would recommend at least $5000 in savings to deal with any unforeseen circumstances. The older the boat, the more you may need in repairs, maintenance & equipment.
Equipment: we’ve spent about $20,000 on equipment purely designed for offshore and trade wind passage making. Therefore, if you are planning to limit your cruising to a cruising ground such as the Caribbean, you may not need any of these items. They include: Parasailor, SSB radio, hydrovane, Watt and Sea hydrogenerator, wind generator, solar panels, Yellow Brick tracker, laptop for receiving GRIB files at sea (Mac Books are not compatible), flares, and spare parts. This doesn’t include ‘basics’ such as autopilot, AIS, life-raft, EPIRB, sat phone, and code zero sail, fishing rods and lures, BBQ, cool box, etc.

We hope you find this video informative and helpful!

Nick & Terysa

June 10, 2017 0 comment

Bahamas

Boat Work & Fishing Fails in the Bahamas

After sailing over 400nm to Turks and Caicos, we spent a few days in the marina to complete some boat chores. After the Code Zero ended up in the water we added a new job to the list: go up the mast and re-mouse the spinnaker halyard. Nick took that one, with Bo’s help, while I took advantage of fast Wifi and unlimited electricity to do some editing and uploading; since we were heading to the Bahamas, we had no idea when we might next have good internet.

(It transpired that internet in the Bahamas is actually faster and cheaper than many other places in the Caribbean we had visited, possibly because the flat nature of the islands allowed an uninterrupted signal. We bought a BTC sim card with 15GB data at 4G speed for $45… not bad at all!)

Allison flew in from the USA after attending a wedding, which was conveniently timed to coincide with our passage from Puerto Rico and the awesome foursome was reunited. We celebrated with an afternoon down the hotel pool, which we were allowed access to as it owned the marina.

We had a 6am wake up call to catch slack tide. The sail to Mayaguana- our first stop in the Bahamas- was uneventful, which is just how we like it! The winds were light, the sun was out and the colour of the water was a deep, cobalt blue. We hopefully put out our fishing line, but apart from a nibble as we were leaving T&C, we had no luck whatsoever.

We arrived into Mayaguana in the late afternoon. We had two options: to enter the bay via the east reef past or the west. The western pass was wider and deeper and was generally accepted to be the better option. Unfortunately that would require a total of 2 mile detour as we were coming from the east. The eastern pass was shallower with more coral heads, but we decided to give it a go to save ourselves the time of going all the way around. Nick followed the Garmin charts (which were surprisingly accurate) while I kept watch at the bow for coral heads. We navigated the pass easily and entered the harbour, where we set our anchor in a couple of metres of crystal blue water. We were finally in the Bahamas!

June 10, 2017 0 comment

Offshore

400nm Offshore Passage to Turks and Caicos

Finally heading north!

The day had finally come: we were heading north to Turks and Caicos!

We had been planning to head north for some time. The original plan was to do this passage while Shiner was here at the end of March. Unfortunately Mother Nature had other plans and we had to make the choice to either beat into 20 knots of wind for 3 days, or stay put and explore the gorgeous BVI’s a bit more. No brainer, really.

Once Shiner left, we could have headed north straight away, but our friend Allison had just flown back from the USA and we wanted to catch up with her before leaving. So we spent an epic weekend in Maho Bay meeting loads of new friends and enjoying all that life on a boat has to offer. After that, we thought we might as well swing by Puerto Rico since we were in the area; we had heard great things, and after eating the most amazing steak from Costco, were dying to get our hands on some American produce to tide us over while we were in the Bahamas. Plus, tacos!

San Juan had won us over completely but now we had a great weather window for the 410 mile passage to Provodenciales, Turks and Caicos and it was time to leave. The weather window was timed perfectly with Allison’s flights back to the States (she had a wedding to go to), so Bo chivalrously agreed to single-hand it up to Provo, allowing Allison to skip the passage entirely.

Our new friends Lauren and Brian came round to say goodbye and once everyone had said their farewells and wished us luck and fair winds, we dropped our lines and headed out the channel. It was a strange feeling; we had no idea when we might be back in this part of the world, as any return to the Eastern Caribbean would require a 3-5 day beat into the prevailing winds, which, knowing us, we would do anything to avoid. So, it was “See you later” but no idea how much later…

An eventful first day

The winds were perfect: 13 knots off the starboard quarter and a little bit of swell that was predicted to die down throughout the night. Bo was storming ahead and so we decided to try and add a bit of speed by flying the code zero. It was really a bit too windy, and the Parasailor would have been a better choice, but the latter also requires a lot more work and we wanted to see what the wind was doing in the longer term before committing to that amount of effort.

The boat was heeling over a little wildly under the code zero, and I could see it snatching with every gust. Nick and I made a few comments about taking it down, but we were too slow to act: suddenly the halyard chaffed through and down it came into the water.

I didn’t have my lifejacket on and Nick is physically stronger, so he dashed forward and started the process of hauling it by hand out of the water. It didn’t take long, and we were relieved to see we only had a small tear in the sail. However, we would not be able to use the spinnaker halyard until after we could re-mouse it in Turks and Caicos; white sails all the way then.

Bo on s/v Salah looking awesome under reefed main and genoa

Thankyou Bo for this awesome pic of Ruby Rose under full sail!

A boring passage… just the way we like it!

After this brief moment of activity, the rest of the passage passed quite uneventfully. We slept, took watch, ate, read and stared out to sea. That’s literally all we did for three whole days. It was very relaxing and pleasant and the weather behaved all the way into Provo, although the final day was slightly lumpier and overcast than the first two.

It was also a fast passage: we averaged 6.3 knots which meant that we arrived into Provo the early hours of Sunday morning rather than mid-morning as originally planned. Bo found us a nice anchorage behind an easy reef entrance to spend the night and we all gratefully went to sleep.

The next morning we motored the 5 miles to the marina where Allison was going to meet us the following day. It was a glorious morning, all sunshine and calm seas and we were greeted by a pod of dolphins playing around our bow! It was a magical moment and a perfect welcome to a new country.

May 19, 2017 3 comments

Puerto Rico

Puerto Rico Baby!

GUYS. I totally forgot to do a blog last week. Is that a problem?

Okay, so I’m going to break with convention slightly and do one big Puerto Rico blog, even though we made two videos. So here goes.

We arrived into Culebra after a relaxing sail from Christmas Cove, St Thomas. First things, first- we had to check in. Nick called the Customs and Immigration number and was given instructions to come to the airport as soon as we could after anchoring. Okie dokie! We anchored in Ensenada Honda, climbed into the dinghy, aimed for the only dinghy dock we could see, tied up and then tried to figure out where the hell the airport might be. We picked a likely direction (ie, NOT towards the coast and the beach) and trudged away, stopping briefly for directions (we received a blank look and an uncertain wave in the direction we were heading), before seeing a reassuring sign with a little airplane on it. It actually wasn’t that far, but it was a bit of a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it situation. The airport was essentially a field with a tiny building on it. We went in, found the Customs office and was checked in by a very thorough and friendly official who made sure we knew exactly what we needed to know (ie, call Customs whenever we move the boat into a different ‘zone’). We were officially checked into the USA (again) and celebrated with tacos and margaritas.

We spent a couple of days chilling in Culebra before deciding to head over to Culebrita. We’d been told that this little island was basically tropical paradise and we couldn’t possibly visit Culebra without staying there at least overnight. We motor-sailed the 5 miles and joined the many, many day boats in the smallish bay. There were a few free mooring buoys, despite the crowds (many boats were all attached to a single buoy or simply anchored right up to the beach) and we tied up, dived on it- no problems there- and got to work cleaning the hull, scraping the propellor free of barnacles, and cleaning the underside of the dinghy. I say ‘we’. I jumped in the water and helped until my arm got a bit sore, then jumped out and left Nick to it.

We actually ended up only sharing the bay with one other boat that night- everyone else left. But we didn’t feel the need to stay longer, so we headed back to the main anchorage for one last night (and tacos!) before the sail to Fajardo the following day.

The forecast was a mild 8-10 knots from the east. We decided that we were feeling too lazy to lift the outboard, let alone the dinghy, so we just left them tethered to the boat. It was going to be a motor anyway.

Well, half an hour and 25 knots later, we were regretting our decision hugely. The dinghy was bucking like crazy behind us as we nervously watched, wondering out loud what our options would be if (or when) the bloody thing overturned. Nick then noticed the fastening bolts becoming loose.

“Terysa! Take the wheel- turn us into the wind. Stall the boat.”

“Wait- what?!”

“I gotta climb into the dinghy and tighten the outboard bolts. It’s about to fall off.”

“Wait- WHAT!?”

“Okay, climbing in now. Wish me luck!”

“Nick, if you fall overboard and drown, I’m going to be scarred for life!”

I almost couldn’t watch as Nick unsteadily made his way from the transom into the bucking dinghy, and then, after tightening the bolts, repeated the process in reverse. Once he was back on board I calmed down a bit, and we continued on our merry way. An hour later the winds had died off completely, and an hour after that we were making our way into Puerto Del Ray, the biggest marina in the Caribbean.

The next few days were extremely exciting for us, and extremely boring for anyone reading or watching this- which is why we didn’t bother filming. We had our first Walmart/Kmart/West Marine/Costco/Other big supermarket experience since leaving the UK two years ago. To say we went overboard would be an understatement. I never thought I’d be the type of person who’d get excited about pretty blue plastic plates, insulated cups, and new pillows for the forecabin, but there you go.

We set off, the boat weighing considerably more than it had a few days previously, and headed to San Juan. It was a beautiful day with perfect sailing conditions: 10 knots on the beam, bright sunshine, almost no swell. We launched the code zero, sat back and chilled out until we arrived into the large harbour leading towards the marina.

The marina was underwhelming and, being Good Friday, there were no staff available to receive us. We had already been assigned a slip the day before, so we just headed there and parked the boat with little difficulty. Nick spotted a security guard- the only employee there that day- who was able to clear us in, provide the wifi code (most important) and the access cards.

Over the next week we had the most wonderful time exploring the Old Town in San Juan. It was reminiscent of any large town in southern Spain and was utterly beautiful, full of history. The Puerto Ricans were also incredibly friendly- everyone had a smile for us, was happy to chat and was extremely helpful. We met new friends through Bo and Allison called Brian and Lauren, who were in the process of moving off their boat and into an apartment in the Old Town, and the six of us had a great time eating, drinking and chatting.

Until next week!

May 12, 2017 0 comment

US Virgin Islands

Swimming With Wild Dolphins in Paradise!

First of all- WE SWAM WITH WILD DOLPHINS!

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

This week is part 2 of our epic weekend in Francis Bay with our friends, both new and old (well… slightly less new).

After a couple of heavy nights we all went on strike and insisted on a quiet evening sans alcohol. When we woke up the next day, clear-headed and well-rested, we were glad of our decision to be sensible for once. Allison took advantage of the temporary peak in energy levels to round Nick and I up and take us on a hike to find a smoothie bar. Ben and Quinn from SV Wanderlust stayed put on their boat, which turned out to be a wise decision. That hike was tough.

Let’s get hiking!

Eventually, wheezing and sweating, we made it to the smoothie hut which put free rum in your smoothie if you wanted; we all declined, just needing simple refreshment. After rehydrating, we headed back on shaky legs, looking forward to lunch followed by a kip to recuperate. However, as Bo and Allison dropped us off at our boat, Nick spotted two fins nearby- dolphins!

We had fortuitously left the GoPro in the cockpit with our snorkelling gear, which we’d been using for lobstering. I didn’t waste time changing into my bathers- I had my gym shorts on as well as my bikini top: good enough! Nick jumped in, I followed and before I knew it, we were swimming with dolphins.

What a magical experience.

I remember when I was a kid we were down the beach one summer’s evening. It was packed. I was swimming with my sister and I saw my mum gesticulating wildly from the beach. I was like, “Huh?” I didn’t understand what she was trying to say. When I came in, she told me she’d been trying to communicate that a dolphin had swum just behind me and I hadn’t realised. I remember being absolutely gutted that I didn’t get a chance to swim with them. Finally, 20 years later, I’ve made up for that missed opportunity.

There was what I’m guessing was a female dolphin with her little calf. The calf was so incredibly playful. The mother just chilled out at a distance while the baby swam around us in circles, reminding me of a mum at a playground, just glad to have someone else entertaining their kid for once. Quite often they would swim away- they moved so quickly!- but they’d always return for another round. Eventually hunger overtook the need to continue to swim with them, and we got out to have lunch. They hung around for hours; even that evening I spotted them serenely swimming through the anchorage.

Over the next few days we continued to hang out with Ben and Quinn, and Bo and Allison. We inched closer to Peurto Rico by spending a night in Christmas Cove, St Thomas together where we bumped into our friends Annie and Eric on El Gato. They’ve got a fantastic boat, a Catana 472, which Nick and I drool over every time we see it. They invited us over for dinner and we kind of invited the other two boats, and suddenly it was a party! We had a brilliant final night in the USVI, and between dark and stormy’s Eric told us one of the most incredible sailing stories I’ve ever heard. I hope he doesn’t mind if I share it with you guys. Here we go:

Strap yourselves in!

It was in the 80s and Eric was a young guy of 28, crewing on a 60 foot racing catamaran. They were racing somewhere mid-Atlantic; high latitude stuff, near where the Titanic sunk. There was a crew of maybe 6 or 8 men and they were chasing the record for the fastest 24 hours. It was blowing about 25 knots on the beam and they were outrunning a gale filling in just behind them. Things were looking good.

Then one of their daggerboards snapped. Don’t ask me how; Eric mixes his drinks strong and this tale took about an hour to tell; some of the details have since eluded me. Anyway. Daggerboard- gone. It was immediately obvious that this was bad news indeed. Everyone had just enough time to put their survival suits on before the catamaran capsized. Someone grabbed what was the 80s equivalent of an EPIRB and they gathered on one of the upturned hulls.

Let’s take a moment here to emphasis one point. This was the mid-80s. They had no communications at all, apart from this device which was actually the first of its kind, and that year was the very first time this particular race had supplied the participating boats with it. I don’t know what it was called, but Eric described it as a big black box with a single button on it. There were no lights. There was nothing else at all. Just a button which would transmit- hopefully- the current co-ordinates. It would not continue to update the boat’s position.

Once the button was pushed- which we can assume happened pretty much immediately- there was no way of telling if it had transmitted, if the transmission had been received- or indeed, if the damn thing was even on. They simply pushed the button and hoped for the best.

The boat capsized at 6am. It wasn’t long before the gale caught up with them. Eric said that the waves suddenly went from moderate to monstrous. As they crested each wave, he would look out and see hundreds more, marching towards them one after another, as big as apartment buildings. The wind had built to around 50 knots, perhaps more. It wasn’t even possible to talk: one had to shout to be heard and besides, the survival suits came up above their mouths. To pull the collar down would mean letting the spray in, and staying dry was imperative to survival. They simply sat and huddled together, tethered to the capsized catamaran, wondering if anyone was even looking for them.

At 12pm- 6 hours later- a plane went overhead. It zipped past, gone almost before anyone saw it. The men were elated: this meant the transmission had worked, people were out looking for them! This was quickly followed by the unhappy realisation that the plane had not dipped its wings. A pilot was part of the crew. He helpfully pointed out that protocol in this situation was for the plane to dip its wings to signal to the people who were awaiting rescue that they had been seen, and help was on its way. There was no such signal.

No other planes went overhead. No ships were sighted. Everyone, with the lone exception of Eric, had not properly fastened their survival suits and, slowly but surely, icy water was entering their suits, lowering their body temperature and inching them closer to an unhappy end. The afternoon went by; the sun went down. The gale continued to blow.

They spent the night taking turns holding up the lights that had come attached to the survival suits. No-one had any idea how long the batteries would last, so they only held one aloft at a time. As it turned out, several years later Eric tested his out and it still switched on, but of course they weren’t to know that at the time. Finally at 2am- 20 hours after capsizing- they saw lights. It was a cargo ship.

I can only imagine the emotions Eric and the rest of the crew felt at this moment. Because although they surely were about to be saved, it soon became clear that the rescue itself might be more perilous than being lost at sea.

The cargo ship was, in a word, ginormous. It transpired that it was actually the largest cargo ship in commission at that point in time. At night, in huge seas, it must have been terrifying to have that mass bearing down on you, even if you were in dire need of rescuing. The ship positioned itself so it was beam on to the seas- which had, thankfully, ameliorated a little by the point; the gale force winds remained- and protecting the upturned catamaran from the worst of the weather.

At this point, there was no way of the crew of the catamaran communicating with the crew of the cargo ship. They were positioned on the deck, and even in the calmest of conditions you would need to shout loudly to be heard. In this kind of weather, forget it. So, after a failed attempt, the cargo ship did a big loop to come back around to an ideal position. In the interim Eric and the crew had what I can imagine was quite a frenzied discussion about how the hell they were going to get the 8 of them from the upturned hull onto the deck on the cargo ship.

They came up with a plan, but they had no way of communicating it to the cargo ship crew. So, Eric came up with another plan. He would, if the opportunity presented itself, swim to the lone ladder that extended down the side of the ship into the water, climb up to the deck and instruct the ship’s crew on the plan they had devised.

It’s still blowing around 50 knots. For those of you having trouble with this, just picture the worst storm you’ve ever been in. That’s probably close. It’s not a hurricane. It’s not a tropical storm. But it would be pretty bloody awful to be out in, and that’s just on land. In the middle of the ocean? Rough. Couple that with giant seas and the dead of night and you’ve got to be incredibly brave or incredibly desperate to leave the relative safety of your capsized boat to swim for a ladder narrower than your shoulder width on the side of a heaving cargo ship. You miss it, you’re dead. It’s as simple as that.

They got within about 50 metres of the ladder and Eric went for it. He let go of the catamaran (now missing one of its hulls from being smashed up against the cargo ship) and swum like crazy for the ladder. Possibly the bravest thing I’ve ever heard of anyone doing. Can you imagine?

He didn’t miss the ladder of course, otherwise he wouldn’t be sitting on his beautiful yacht in the Caribbean drinking rum with us lot. He grabbed hold of it and I can only imagine the relief he must have felt at that moment. Minutes later he was up on deck instructing the crew- who were only too happy to be told how they could rescue the remaining crew members of the catamaran- on what to do. They threw down lines to the men on the one remaining hull and one by one hauled them up onto the deck.

The owner and captain was last. Eric reached down to him as he came within arms reach and, instinctively, the captain reached up. The loop of rope under his arms was pulled off, over his head. It was a long drop down and it’s hard to see how, even if he survived the fall, he would have been saved. Eric, like an action man in a Hollywood move, snatched at his hands, caught them, and somehow pulled him over the rail.

So that’s it. That’s the story. I was in awe the whole time Eric spoke, wondering how on earth he managed to continue sailing after such an ordeal. I’m not sure I could.

April 28, 2017 6 comments

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