We are still recovering from the trip, even just over a day later. It is 3:30 a.m. Thursday morning as I write this and Dave and I are both wide awake. I guess our sleep patterns are messed up enough that we think four and a half hours is enough because we both woke up around 1:30 and we're still up. So there is a bit of a price to pay for making such progress.
Romana is tied up at 'The Harborage at Ashley Marina', which is a ridiculous name (I am not even sure harborage is a word) but a nice enough place. It's not as great a location as the Charleston Maritime Centre, where we stayed last time, and more expensive, but the facilities are nicer, so there is always a trade off.
How did we get here, you ask? Well, sit down and get comfortable, because it is a long story...
We left Green Turtle Cay according to plan at 6 a.m. Sunday morning with just enough light to see what we were doing. Soon the sun was up and we were motoring west between Great Abaco and the cays to the north. Our route took us west from there between Grand Bahama and a few more cays to the north and then we turned more northwest towards Manzanilla Shoal where we left the Little Bahama Banks and headed northwest into the Gulf Stream. The plan was to ride the Gulf Stream north as far as we could, ending up in Charleston, SC. For those of you who may not know, the Gulf Stream is a very strong current that runs off the east coast of the US, very close to the coast in Florida. It runs from south to north, and in order to avoid big, rough seas, you don't want to have north winds while you are in it. If you do things right and have some luck you can get a big lift from the current when you are traveling north.
Dave did the route planning taking into account where the stream was located as well as where the back eddies were, with counter currents that would be against us and he did a fantastic job, as we really got a free ride for over a day. Our average speed on the trip was 7 knots over the bottom, which was amazing, but at times we were averaging over 9 knots for hours. As always, everything hinged on the weather, so we had a few 'optional' destinations where we could bail out if things got too rough, but because of our route, the bail out could be a 10 or 12 hour trip. The way the coast of Florida, Georgia and South Carolina curves from west to east there was no 'hugging the coast' on this trip. Much of the time we were 80 to 90 Nm away from shore.
Because we intentionally planned our trip for a period of lighter winds, we knew that we would be doing a lot of motoring, but we thought we would be able to sail at least part of the trip. In fact we motor sailed the entire way (other than 45 minutes when I had the engine off and tried to sail). As it happened, our first day the wind was from the east, which was almost behind us as we headed west and northwest, and then it turned to the south as we headed north. Sounds great, right? Not so much. Just like sailing straight up wind, we can't really sail dead downwind either. At least not comfortably. If the wind is anywhere less than 30 degrees off the stern, we can't keep the jib full if the main is up, and the main bangs and crashes around. The boat speed changes a lot, and the autohelm has a difficult time steering straight. This makes the problem worse and it gets into a vicious feedback loop which is annoying for short periods of time and unbearable for long trips. So, if the wind is 180 degrees from the direction we want to go, we have to head a bit off course and gybe back and forth. This means traveling some extra miles, so that extra speed from the Gulf Stream helped even more on this trip. During one seven hour stretch we covered 57 miles over the bottom, but ended up only 53 miles closer to Charleston.
I must say that after all of the trepidation I have had towards the Gulf Stream based on previous encounters traveling south and crossing it to the east or west, on this trip going north with it the conditions were pretty benign. In fact, at one point we had gybed and were heading a bit west of our course and the wind was picking up and things were getting a bit lumpy. I gybed back towards the east and after a couple of hours (and quite suddenly actually) the wind dropped off, the seas got much calmer and we were doing 9 knots instead of 7 knots. Being in the stream instead of on the edge made thing a lot better.
On this passage, we decided to take 3 hour watches from 6 a.m. until midnight and then take three 2 hour watches until 6 a.m. This made the watches in the middle of the night (which seem really long and boring - more on that later) shorter and also flips the watches the second day, so the person that was on the 6-9 watch is on from 9-12 and vice versa. The on watches were pretty much the same day after day, but it was interesting to see how things changed on the off watches. On Day 1, I got a lot done in my off watches - I made a batch of muffins, downloaded photos from the camera and wrote and posted my blog, used some of the last of our Bahamas cell data to download home email, had one last look at facebook before we went off the grid, worked on some accounting stuff, took a sun shower on deck (naked, since there was no-one around for miles), and made a chicken stir fry for supper. Because Dave is a better napper than I am, he has a bit of an advantage over me, so he took some pre-emptive naps during the day but he also was awake and doing things for much of the day.
Just after 3 p.m. we passed Great Sale Cay, which was our last chance to stop and anchor with protection from some winds before we left sight of land for a few days. Conditions were good, so we kept going and started a 52 mile leg towards Mantanilla Shoal, where we would leave the shallow water of the banks and head into the deep ocean and soon the Gulf Stream. I watched the sun set on my 6-9 p.m. watch and by the end of my watch it was dark. I had been wearing my harness since the start of the watch and was clipped into the cockpit unless I was down below, which was standard practice for us on long passages. Dave was trying to get some sleep in the aft cabin. When he came to relieve me I went below and went to bed in the V, which is further away from the noise of the engine and the autohelm. I have learned on previous trips that I can't sleep in the aft cabin while we are under way, and I usually sleep on the settee in the main cabin, but this time I decided to try the V as it was even less noisy and away from the lights and activity of the person on watch, who comes below to check radar, plot positions etc. from time to time. Although I didn't get any sleep during that first off watch, I did stay in the bunk and rest the whole time.
When I took over at midnight we were past Manzanilla Shoals and heading for the GUlf Stream. There were 3 ships around us and two of them were past us, so nothing to worry about, but I had to contend with a big cruise ship. It appeared from AIS (thank goodness for AIS) that we were going to come pretty close to them, so I radioed the Norwegian Epic (thanks again AIS) and when I talked to them they said that they would alter course to go around us and we should just maintain our course. Sure enough, they altered course about 30 degrees and our closest point of approach moved from 0.15 Nm to about 1 Nm. Even that far away the ship looked pretty huge and was all lit up like a small city. I tried to take some photos, but they didn't turn out in the dark.
Actually, for me, seeing the lights of ships in the distance and tracking them on radar and AIS helps pass the time on night watches. There was no moon on this trip, and although the stars and the phosphorescence in the water were amazing to look at, I can only do that for so long. Dave can read, but I find I have too much trouble adjusting my night vision after the light of a headlamp or e-reader. I plan to invest in a headlamp with a red light, hopefully before our next passage, as that will allow me to read without hurting my night vision. So, what to do? Well, when there are no boats around and I get bored with looking at stars in the sky and phosphorescence in the water, I play little games like counting to 60 as I scan the horizon in each of four directions, or I 'reward' myself when I get to the next quarter hour mark and check the radar by playing a game of Blitz on the iPad (again, not great for the night vision, but at least you can turn the brightness down, which helps a bit).
When Dave took watch at 6 a.m. the sky was starting to get lighter and the second day of our passage was beginning. We were now surfing the Gulf Stream north. On Day 2 the off watches were markedly different. Essentially both of us spent pretty much the entire off watch lying in our bunk trying to sleep. Dave had moved up to the V, because even he was getting tired of the noise of the engine in the aft bunk, so we were 'hot bunking' it. I was no longer changing into my pyjamas when I crawled into bed, but just took off my shorts and wore my t-shirt and underwear. We were both tired and only spent a few minutes together on watch changes updating each other before one of us went below.
When I took over watch at 9 a.m. Dave told me he had seen these weird sea creatures floating on the water - they looked like a plastic pie plate with a fin - maybe some kind of jellyfish thing? I saw them too - a bit too far away to get a photo but I will try to look them up and find out what they were. On that watch I gybed all by myself, including rigging the preventer to the other side, while harnessed in, in fairly big seas, so I was quite proud of that. At 11 a.m. we were 40 miles east of Port Canaveral, which was one of our 'bail out' inlets, but things looked good, so we kept heading for Charleston.
Day 2 was hot. Day 1 had been hot enough, but when the wind dropped back on Day 2 for a while we had no apparent wind on the boat so it was really warm. Once again I was very grateful we had the bimini. It was pretty lonely out there - I think we saw three boats (both ships) in the next two days before we got within 25 miles of Charleston. But we weren't entirely alone. A small bird landed on deck and hopped over to see me. Soon he had flown into the cabin through one of our hatches. I went below and managed to coax him away from the non-opening port and out the hatch, but soon he was below again. After chasing him out a couple more times, I figured out maybe I could put the screens in to keep him from getting into the cabin, and that worked. Who knew that we would be using the screens to keep birds out instead of bugs!
That evening we had another shower on deck and then had a simple pizza (we ran out of pepperonni and I forgot to stock up) for supper before I went below to sleep. On my 9-12 watch I shut the engine off and tried to sail, but it was really uncomfortable and jerky, so I gave up on that after about 40 minutes and started the engine again. At least I tried! On my next watch the wind had piped up to 20 knots and Dave had furled the jib in a bit (we had one reef in the main from the day before) but we still had the engine on low revs to help maintain a more constant speed and course sailing this close to downwind. We were trying to adjust the course one degree at a time to pinch a little so we didn't go as far off our course before the next gybe.
At 4 a.m. I had to go below and wake Dave up to take his watch because he was sleeping soundly, and he had to do the same with me at 6 a.m. At the start of Day 3 we were 80 miles east of St. Andrews Sound, Georgia. One 'bail out' inlet (Savannah) left before Charleston. Although it didn't look like we were going to make it to Charleston before dark, we decided to carry on because we thought we were familiar enough with Charleston to get in in the dark, conditions were still good and we would save a good bit of distance going straight to Charleston. In the last 24 hours we had covered 191 Nm - an average of almost 8 knots! At 8:30 we were 80 miles from Charleston to the north - about the same distance as we were from the coast to the west.
Another bird showed up, and again, flew down into our cabin. He ended up in the V and flew back and forth from one non opening port window to the other while I tried to shoo him out the hatch. Meanwhile Dave slept on, oblivious to it all. At 9 a.m. I woke Dave up for his watch and when I went to bed I heard Dave talking to the bird and getting some food and water for it. I heard him trying to get the bird out of the cabin a couple of times and when I got up at noon to take watch, he had put the screen in the companionway and closed the hatch to keep the bird outside. The bird was sitting on the floor of the cockpit just behind the wheel. It wouldn't eat or drink anything, but appeared to be resting. Dave told me that he had seen two big dolphins not long ago and just as I was saying I was sorry I had missed them, they showed up again and I got a glimpse of one.
Dave went below and soon 6 dolphins showed up. I clipped into the jacklines and went forward to the bow to see them, and although Dave was still awake in the V, he stayed below. The dolphins were AMAZING! They played in the bow wave, swam along beside the boat, did tricks and jumps in the air and the water, and one of them even 'waved' at me by turning on his side and wiggling his tail when I waved. I stayed at the bow watching for half an hour, but then I went back to the cockpit to check on navigation and do a fix, and they swam off.
When I went to look at the bird after doing my position fix at 1 p.m. it was keeled over on its side and didn't look good. A few minutes later it was dead, so I put some gloves on and gave it a burial at sea. Poor little thing. Talk about going from highs to lows in a short period of time! An hour earlier I was laughing at frolicking dolphins and now I was sadly giving a tiny bird a funeral.
By 3 p.m. we had slowed down a bit. Dave came up for watch and furled the jib, which wasn't doing much as the wind had died. It was cooler (only 76F), damp and hazy. Dave took the Bahamas courtesy flag down and put up the quarantine flag, and switched the heads over to the holding tanks to prepare for our arrival in Charleston. I was reading down below around 4 when Dave told me there were more dolphins. This time there were 8 or 9 of them and we both went to the bow and watched them play for about 20 minutes before they were off again.
We had a minimilist supper that night (canned ravioli for me and zoodles with hotdogs for Dave) as we prepared for the last leg of our journey. I had the 6-9 p.m. watch and started to see other boats again. The sun set around 8 p.m. and Dave got up. Ten miles from Charleston channel we finally got cellphone coverage and Dave got email and weather. We were still wearing shorts, but we both had fleece on as it had cooled down below 68F (talk about getting spoiled in the Bahamas). Then the fun really began...
Just after 9 p.m. I saw a boat on AIS that seemed like it was going to come pretty close to us. I called them on the VHF and had a conversation with the captain of a 90 foot tug. He had a southern accent and kept calling me babe, which I thought was hilarious. He shone a spotlight and found us visually and said he would alter course. He seemed very nice and helpful, so Dave called him to see if he had any local knowledge about anchoring in Charleston harbour, explaining that we wanted to anchor tonight and then find a marina in the morning to clear customs.
As we approached the main ship channel going in to Charleston there were (of course) ships to contend with. There was about ten minutes of high tension between the captain and crew, as I was freaking out a bit, but soon we figured out what our roles would be and Dave navigated and steered with the autohelm while I watched and checked AIS.
We got into the channel and started to head in when the Charleston Pilot called us and told us we should stay on the red side of the channel as a ship was coming out behind him. Sure enough the ship called us and confirmed a port to port pass. Another sailor called us with some local knowledge on anchoring, as he had overheard our conversation with the tug captain. He said he didn't recommend the 'usual' anchorage opposite the marinas on the Ashely River as there was a bunch of dredging going on, with a ton of unmarked stuff in the water. He recommended an anchorage in the waterway just to the northeast side of the harbour, so Dave thought we could go there.
Next problem - how do we get the main down? We got out of the channel into the V where it split into an east and a west channel and I headed into the wind while Dave got the sail down. Soon the Charleston Pilot is calling us on the radio telling us to stay to the green side of the channel as he is bringing another ship in and he wants to go around us. Pretty high stress for me as it was all going on at once, but he was really great and told us to watch out for the dredge (which turned out to be the thing that looked like a floating building just to the west of us). Once Dave got the sail down, he called the Pilot to talk about anchorages and then he talked to the dredge. New plan. We decided to head for the shore of James Island an anchor on the southwest side of the Ashley River.
Now Dave bobbed up and down watching the radar below and the plotter in the cockpit while I steered with the autohelm and looked for things in the dark so we wouldn't hit anything. We crept across the harbour, avoiding the dredge, the unlit obstacles and the lit buoys and finally, at twenty minutes after midnight we got the hook down. Exhausted but a bit wired, especially after the last three hours, we went below and Dave called customs to tell them where we were. We gave them our information and they said they would call back in the morning when we could let them know which marina we were going to. Shortly after 1 a.m. we tumbled into bed and fell asleep almost immediately.
We didn't wake up until 6, when a rain shower woke us long enough to close the hatches before crashing again. The next morning we got up at 8 and Dave called the marina we had stayed at last time we came to Charleston. No room. He tried a second marina. No room. Someone said something about a long weekend, but there wasn't one. Finally he found a spot at the Ashley Marina but we had to wait until 10 a.m. and call back for our slip assignment. When we arrived the guy working there said this is coming up on their busy season for transient boats heading north, which is why things are so full.
We had breakfast and cleaned up a bit while we waited, and then Dave talked to the marina again and just after 10 a.m. we hauled up the anchor and headed for 'The Harborage'. The marina is located on the Ashley River, and to get to it you have to pass under a bridge with 56 foot clearance. We made it with inches to spare and managed to get tied up at the fuel dock and get the tanks filled just before a big thunder and lightning storm came and dumped a deluge of rain on us. The folks from Customs and Border Control actually waited in the marina office until a break in the rain to come out and let us know they were ready to clear us in.
Clearing in went well - the officials were very nice and they didn't even come onto the boat. Just after noon we were officially in the USA. We were still pretty tired out, and we were still getting deluged by rain on and off, so we had lunch and spent the rest of the day hanging out and doing a few things like getting a hot shower, doing the last couple of loads of laundry that I didn't get done at Treasure Cay (saving $8 in the process, as laundry is half the price it is in the Bahamas), moving the boat from the fuel dock to the inner dock (a feat in itself with wind, current and a narrow turning space to contend with) and then taking a walk over to McDonald's for supper (we agreed we couldn't handle anything fancier than that - it would take too much energy). We went to bed shortly after 8 p.m. utterly exhausted.
While we were on this passage, I read "An Astronaut's Guide to Life on Earth" by Chris Hadfield, which was a very good book. In it he says "the rough and ready improvisational quality to life on board the International Space Station is reminiscent of a long trip in a sailboat: privacy and fresh produce are in short supply, hygiene is basic, and a fair amount of the crew's time is spent just on maintaining and repairing the craft". I thought this was a very good summary, so for fellow cruisers, just remember it's just like being on board the Space Station!
This three and three quarter day passage has cut out 600 miles and about 16 days in the waterway. Now we just have to make sure we slow down enough that we don't catch up with the cold weather. Or at least too cold. We know what it is like to sail off the coast of Maine and Nova Scotia in June and I have no doubt we will be wearing our toques again before we get home.
We have left some things un-done in the Abacos. We didn't rent a car and tour around Great Abaco, or get the bikes out to cycle the length of Elbow Cay, or visit the museums in Hopetown and Man O'War Cay, but that just means there will be something to do next time we got back there. We will miss being able to tether to the iPhone for our own personal hotstpot, but we won't miss the incessant radio chatter on the VHF.
We will stay in Charleston for a couple more days before heading out again. We will probably do some coastal hops and avoid the waterway as much as possible, thankful for the longer days and favourable winds and currents pushing us north. I'll keep you posted as our adventure continues.