The Bahamas

Yes, the water really looks like this

We arrived in Bimini yesterday and after I heaved one final time into my trusty bucket I told Hans this will be the last time I cross to the Bahamas.

We woke up at 4 AM, left Rodriguez Key at 5 AM, and I was puking by 8 AM.

Oddly, even though we left our anchorage in the dark which is creepy, that turned out to be a piece of cake. The seas were just ripples for about the first hour but when the sky started to lighten, the waves continued to build and then the wind, which had been forecast to be under 10 knots and going SE, kicked up to 20 knots E and showed no inclination of heading S. We started chop-chop-chopping along with roooooooolling from side to side and my stomach said the hell with this nonsense and, after losing my coffee and orange juice, I had nothing to eat or drink until we docked.

I did manage to help Hans get the jib out (which would hopefully steady the boat and help push us a little faster) before my stomach took over.

Wilbur was a champ though. He spent the entire day in the cockpit and when he wasn't circling the helm pod and passing under Hans' legs like a cat, he licked Hans' face, arms, and legs while sitting tightly against him. I couldn't stand being in the cockpit and went below to the salon with my bucket and every time I would start to throw up Wilbur would rush to the companion way door and stare down at me. This was something he'd never witnessed before and with his head tilted to the side and ears pointed up, he watched with amazement like maybe I'd turned Pentecostal and was speaking to him in tongues. I begged him to come down and keep me company but he must have decided his captain was the lesser of two evils and remained staunchly by Hans' side.

I never did see the sun rise although Hans assured me it was beautiful, I didn't get to witness the phenomenon of watching the gulf's water turn from brown to navy blue as we entered the stream, and I didn't come above when Hans shouted 'Land Ho!' upon spotting Bimini. I did manage to set my bucket aside in order to help furl the jib which unfortunately put me far too close to the proximity of Wilbur's potty patch (which stinks no matter how often we rinse it), and I was off and heaving again.

And then we were in calmer water that suddenly went from navy blue to emerald green, which I did get to see since I'd come above to get our dock lines ready. The channel into Bimini has been re-dredged since our last time here and getting in was easy. And just like that our salt encrusted boat, stinky selves, and an exhausted pit bull, were docked at Blue Water Marina.

The water here is crystal clear and last night as we walked around the docks Hans commented that you don't even need to snorkel to see all the fish below the surface, just look down and they're there. I was looking at little striped fish zipping about, glass bottles lying on the bottom, pieces of old anchor chain covered with sea growth... when all of a sudden a giant ray accompanied by a baby ray glided just under the surface right in front of us. Even Wilbur saw it.

Our day did end on a really high note though. Right after we arrived some kids on the fishing boat next to us needed a drill and some drill bits to fix something on their boat. We lent them ours and after they'd returned them I was down below putting stuff in order while Hans went to check us in at Customs and Immigration. I heard someone call me and when I came out into the cockpit one the kids was standing on the dock. I thought he needed the drill again and then I saw that he had a bag in his hand which he presented to me. It contained two huge Mahi fillets! Wow, fresh Mahi for dinner on our first night here in Bimini almost made that crappy crossing worth it.

Mahi!!

Today, after a good night's sleep (I was in bed by 8:30), the sun is shining, I'm walking around barefoot in a sundress while Wilbur snoozes in the cockpit, and Hans is attempting to put new connectors on our solar panels.

It's beautiful but I still say it's the last time I'll sail here.

 

I'm having a hard time downloading pictures from my phone to my iPad and I have to admit that I took these pictures 4 years ago. But that's okay because nothing here has really changed anyway.

 

 

 

Posted with Blogsy

It ain't a crossing without a puking!

And I surely hope this doesn't become a tradition!

Back in March when we crossed over to the Bahamas in choppy seas, we were about seven miles from Bimini's shore when I finally gave in to the nausea I'd been fighting for a couple of hours and puked. I'm just thankful I got that little issue out of the way before very scary 52 knot winds hit us and I had to concentrate on other minor things like surviving.

So on our way back from West End, Bahamas to Florida I wasn't too terribly surprised when after rolling along for hours in three to five foot seas (at least they were following seas and we weren't pounding into them), I lost my lunch. Hans hadn't realized that I wasn't feeling well (I thought if I didn't say anything it would go away) and was more than a bit startled when he came up into the cockpit after a visit to the head, to find me manning the helm with my head thrust into my puke bucket, which was firmly wedged between me and the wheel. I'm just glad that this whole puking thing wasn't a portent for 52 knot winds which I'm glad to say did not happen during this crossing.

Why were we crossing in 'seas' and not waiting for a more reasonable weather window?

Because we were once again on a dreaded schedule (youngest daughter's college graduation) and Mother Nature loves to play games, that's why.

Hans shows Wilbur his 'crossing' plan.

Wilbur begs to disagree and shows Hans his 'crossing' plan.

I think Hans should listen to Wilbur more often.

We arrived at West End (our starting point for the trip home) in the Bahamas but with heavy east winds we couldn't anchor and were at the mercy of the only and very expensive marina there, so needless to say we really needed some good weather news.

What we were getting were forecasts of continuing and unrelenting East winds at 20+ knots which were resulting in 6 foot seas, and I don't do 6 foot seas! But after two days of expensive dockage we finally decided to head on back to the states with a forecast of East winds of 15 to 20 knots and three to five foot seas.

So the next morning we were up bright and early and along with a couple of other cruisers we headed back to the states. We had really hoped to sail most of the way and with the wind firmly on our stern we attempted to sail wing and wing (jib all the way out on one side, and the main all the way out on the other), but the winds actually started dying down and the damned seas kept knocking the wind out of our sails and we had to constantly regroup. Finally a little over half way across we gave up on the whole sail idea and started motoring.

And motoring.

We'd hoped to make the trip to Lake Worth, FL in eight hours, ten max, but the strong Gulf Stream Current, which according to NOAA (aka: Never On At All in my book) was supposed to cease and desist four miles off the U.S. coast (which would then allow us to actually move along at faster than two and a half knots), stubbornly clung to within one mile of the shore line like a cheap date.

It was at the ten hour mark that I puked and started wondering if we were caught in our own Twilight Zone because the cute little red boat icon on my computer was not moving at all, and then Hans informed me that perhaps we wouldn't be arriving during day light hours after all.

Just go ahead and tell me there isn't a Santa Claus why don't you!






The sun went down, our running lights went on, and Wilbur (the smart one) said, "The hell with you two, I'm going down below." And there he stayed for the duration of the trip, resting his tender pitty body on his comfy Steeler pillow.





For the next three hours the seas picked up even more, the skies grew dark, and I didn't care one bit that I'd wiped my pukey mouth all over a shirt of Hans' that I was wearing. Moving about the cockpit was very difficult and couldn't be accomplished in a normal manner and involved scuttling sideways on bended knees.

I felt just like a crab.

Since Hans is not the most graceful person in the world; when he expressed a desire to visit the head I wouldn't let him go (if you think Mother Nature is scary, you don't want to mess with me in rolling seas!) as I was not about to have him take a tumble on his way down below.

It was close to 9 PM (note: 14 hours at sea and not the 8 to 10 I'd been promised) when we finally entered the Lake Worth channel and made our way into calmer waters where we found our way to the closest anchorage. We proceeded to weave our way around the many anchored boats while I tried to find a vacant spot. And for some strange reason while I can hear Hans perfectly while I'm at the bow, he can't hear me at all.

Me (up at the bow with the search light): OVER THERE!

Hans (not going over there): I think I'll go over here.

Me (gesturing wildly): THAT'S TOO CLOSE TO A DOCK!! OVER THERE!!

Hans (still not going over there): I can't hear you, can you read what's on that white marker? How about back there?

Me (waving like an hysterical cockroach): I SAID OVER THERE!!! OVER THERE!!

Hans finally motored OVER THERE and we blessedly dropped anchor.

Due to the heavy seas we weren't able to do any fishing at all on the way back but I have to tell you I don't think fresh Mahi could have tasted any better than the wonderfully hot Tuna Helper I dished up an hour later.

I kid you not.

Welcome to Miami whose motto is Yankee Go Home!

It was very exciting to actually motor past Hans' old family home in the Venetian Causeway area. We could have anchored there if we'd wanted to but the winds were too strong so we ventured onward.









We ended up anchoring in a very small yet pretty area called Sunset Lake near Belle Isle. It was here that it was pointed out to us that we, who have been on this earth for over 50 years each, are not nice people and are really the scum of the earth.


We had no sooner dropped anchor when a land owner buzzed over on his jet ski and informed us that we had a problem. Why we even talked to him I don't know. I guess we were just trying to be polite. But anyway this poor guy apparently has the nastiest wife in the world or as he put it, "My wife is driving me nuts! She won't leave me alone and insisted that I ask you to move." We told him we weren't moving and then when we informed him that Hans was from the area, it seems they actually know a lot of the same people. So things took a bit of a different turn and he said he'd tell his wife we're friends of his and that we could go ahead and stay but only for two nights.

Whatta guy!

Then since we were now good old buddies he filled us in on how awful his life is. Obviously forgetting that we were on a sail boat he told us how his wife can't function when dirty sailors drop anchor in their lake. She fears for their children's safety (like maybe we're all pedophiles), she can't open the drapes in her bedroom (like we really want to look at her anyway), and don't even get him started on the 'filthy Canadians' (and I only wish we had a Canadian flag on board as Hans is a citizen of Canada) whom he's had to chase away. His tactic is to move his motor boat out beside the offender and blast them with rap music until they leave. Personally I like rap music but I can't imagine his neighbors appreciate this. He pointed to various houses and told us to ask anyone and they'd tell us the same thing; all of the wives are miserable (I wonder what their excuse would be if they didn't live on a lake?). One neighbor even put up huge ugly privacy hedges so they wouldn't have to view our nasty boats and we wouldn't be able to spy on them all day. Oh, the sad sad life of the wealthy folks of Hysteria Lane.

And could we believe it? One sailor had the gall to tell him he should divorce his wife! When he finally left I laughed and said to Hans, "Guess who isn't getting any tonight."

The next day he came over again but we were down below and when Wilbur (who's pretty darn smart) saw him he went nuts. We didn't know he could bark like that and so Mr. C. went back home. We weren't so lucky on our third day when he returned again and this time he was very sad. "Now we really do have a problem." he mourned.

Really?

"My wife is hysterical and I can't take this anymore. She won't shut up! You said you'd leave in two days and you're still here. I can see I'm going to have to bring my motor boat out here and blast you with rap music."

Hans was very nice and informed him that we could stay for as long as we liked and did his wife has some psychological problems.

"She certainly does!! She's under extreme emotional duress because of you! She feels like a prisoner in her own home!" Then he told us that he wasn't sure if we were aware that during the night a storm washed through (we live on a boat! Of course we knew a storm washed through, who the hell does he think closed the hatches, our hired help!!) and he was sure our boat was going to drift into his dock and damage his boat, and that our anchor had dragged.

Our anchor did not drag we assured him.

Hans finally ended it by telling him we were leaving anyway and not because of him but because the winds were going to be in our favor.

All I know is that for the most part we had a very lovely weekend when we weren't being harassed (and that's exactly what it was and you didn't see us knocking on his door and telling him we thought his ugly house was offensive). On the other hand, he had to listen to his shrew of a wife, he had to come out to our boat three times, and he couldn't sleep one night because he spent it watching our boat.

I think it's true that money certainly can't buy happiness.

I wish I'd taken pictures of the lake but between going ashore, taking care of boat chores, and spying on the residents, I just forgot. So if any of you out there enjoy a spirited debate, I encourage one and all to please anchor in Sunset Lake while in Miami.




This is the only picture I took while in Sunset Lake. As our boat swayed on the hook, the palm trees would appear and disappear.











Finally, Ma and Pa Kettle and their fleabag pooch Wilbur, reanchored in another body of water.

After being treated like low life's in Sunset Lake, we decided to treat ourselves to a trip down South Beach, Miami, and there we were treated like royalty.

Wilbur went with us and you'd never know pit bulls are banned in Miami as I think we counted at least 4 of them along with an 8 week old pup. Wilbur was fascinated and got nose to nose with it but I didn't get any pictures.

Wilbur was hailed and cheered and petted and fawned over so much so that you'd have thought he was a visiting prince.




This is the hotel Hans' family used to own and it's in the Art Deco district. I'd never heard of this area and if you ever have the chance to come here you've got to see it. Block after block of renovated buildings and sidewalks full of cafes. We couldn't believe how busy it was for a Monday afternoon.









Hans and Wilbur taking a rest on the steps of the hotel.

































Here we are in front of the church where Hans' father and his step mother were married.



















Our handsome man sitting under the table like a good boy. South Beach is very pet friendly and they even bring water to your pooch if it needs it.

We ended up having lunch with a good friend of Hans' brother. Ros worked with Peter in Switzerland and now spends the winter months in Miami before going back to Geneva. We didn't get to spend much time with her but we had fun.







Sunset over Miami.



We passed up an iffy chance to cross to the Bahamas a few days ago but tomorrow the winds are supposed to be S SE 9-12 knots, becoming S SW with 2-3 foot seas so we're going to give it a shot.




Of course I ran into someone at the marina who told me that the people I saw arriving at the mooring beside us this morning, crossed over last night and they had 20 foot seas!!! We did hear about some Gulf Stream warnings but 20 foot seas?! I'm hoping to hell they were exaggerating as I'm sick to death of all the horror stories associated with the Gulf Stream.


So tomorrow at 4 AM we should be departing but Hans already knows if I'm not happy with how things are looking we are turning around and that's it!