Some photos from Elbow Cay

We do a little bit of lobstering

Bonfire with our friends on Tahiti Beach, at the southern tip of Elbow Cay

JB waiting for his wave at Garbanzo break

Boat life

We will always be wet and salty. Our clothes will always be damp. None of our equipment will function perfectly, if it works at all. What were once minor events in the course of day now require planning, effort, and cooperation. Every decision we make - where to go, what to do each day, where to anchor, where to store things - is necessarily a joint decision, requiring at least discussion and frequently debate. We will always be in each other’s way. Space is tight and solitude hard to find. These are realities we are accepting. Patience and trust have never been more important. It has not been easy acclimating ourselves to this new life but it’s absolutely worth it. Fortunately we are in good health, in body and spirit. Nearly every Bahamian and fellow cruiser we’ve met has been helpful. Electrical tape, zip ties, hose clamps, and rope are our allies. PB & J’s and instant coffee fuel us. The camaraderie among us is strong. Each one carries his share. Long before we crossed the Florida Straits it became clear that we have different capabilities and areas of expertise. What one lacks, the others make up for. The year we spent preparing for this trip, the difficult passage that began it, and the challenges we’ve faced in the last several weeks have proved that we can rely on each other to overcome anything.

Rolling the dice

We do things differently. Sometimes our methods work flawlessly; other times we make things more difficult for ourselves. Sometimes our methods save time, money, and energy, thus reinforcing our behavior. Other times we get the job done but it’s not pretty. Often instead of doing what one might expect three intelligent young men to do, we opt for the shortcut. We roll the dice and take a chance. Some people think we’re quite clever, others think we’re foolish. Either way, our methods are unique and we always persevere. The following stories exemplify this.

While in Green Turtle Cay, we wanted to go spearfishing. In between our anchorage and the reef where we wanted to fish was a lagoon and the cay itself. After looking at the Navionics charts for the area, JB suggested an alternative to motoring around the northern tip of the cay in the dinghy, using fuel and fighting the combination of tidal and wave action. He suggested we take a more direct route: go through the lagoon and carry the dinghy across the cay to the beach.

“How far will we have to carry the dinghy?” Christian asked. “Overestimate.”

JB estimated, “Mmm… 200 yards, at most.”

We considered our options. The dinghy weighs over 300 pounds with the 5 hp motor and our spearfishing gear. The ride around the cay would be time-consuming and cold. Primarily because our outboard motors had been problematic since we arrived in the Bahamas, we decided to carry the dinghy across the cay the next morning.

Once we had landed across the lagoon we encountered our first obstacle: how to get the hard-bottom inflatable over the sharp coral rock without it getting punctured or damaged. Using scraps of wood in the vicinity, we built a ramp over the steepest and sharpest portion of rock along the water’s edge. Our next challenge was to get the dinghy to the beach. To press the lower end of the dinghy overhead we needed to first get the dinghy to a height from which we could lift it. Christian squatted so JB and Max could place the heavier end on his back. With Christian bearing nearly all the weight of the dinghy at JB and Max’s waist height, we were able to press the dinghy overhead. Christian moved to the bow and we began to walk up the hill and onto the road. We rotated positions periodically to conserve energy, prevent muscle fatigue, and continue moving.

Growing tired after 300 yards we put down the dinghy and sent JB ahead to find the nearest direct path to the beach and to determine its actual distance. In the meantime, every passerby had a comment. One Bahamian said: “Das yo boat back dere?” Shaking his head, “Ya crazy, mon!” Barely slowing down, an old lady cackled as she said, “I’d give you a ride but you have a boat and I have a golf cart!” JB returned with the location of the island’s trash dump, the news that the nearest beach access was still another 200 yards away, and two random, used golf cart tires. We walked to the dump to see what resources it had to offer. Though we all lamented the terrible waste and lack of recycling, JB and Max, being pickers, were excited about the piles of treasure. JB wanted to keep a battery switch. Max wanted to keep a sink faucet. Christian kept us on task. We set out to build a trailer for the dinghy using a piece of aluminum, two golf cart tires, a piece of rubber, and some rope. The trailer turned out to be a failure, since the dinghy kept sliding off of it. Fortunately, the aluminum pole that served as the axel was useful in allowing us carry the dinghy with less difficulty. We muscled the dinghy over the final hill and onto the beach. Careful to avoid breaking waves, we finally entered the water with the dinghy. We motored out to point where a reef dropped off from about 25 deep to a sand bottom around 5-6 feet deeper. We enjoyed excellent spearfishing for several hours, acquiring enough fish to last us for several days. The highlight of the fishing was an impressive mutton snapper that JB speared. When the sharks arrived we spent some time playing with them before we left, trying unsuccessfully to capture footage using our waterproof GoPro camera.

Not wanting to carry the dinghy back across the island, we began motoring around the island. The engine kept turning itself off. Once on the protected side of the island we decided to pull up to a dock and drop off two people so the third could continue to the sailboat more quickly, on plane. The engine refused to start after the drop-off. JB got a ride out to the sailboat and returned in the inflatable kayak. Christian made a deal with two local fishermen, whereby they filleted our fish for us and got to keep the fish heads in exchange. Max put the fish on ice and brought it with our gear back to the sailboat. Christian and JB went back to the dinghy to fix the engine. With the engine operating again, Christian went back to the beach to pick up some belongings we had left there.

Was it all worth it? It was the best location for spearfishing we have been to yet. We worked hard to play even harder and at the end of the day there doesn’t seem to be a real difference ebtwen the two. It’s all a part of the experience. After feasting on fresh fish, we went to the Bluff House, a marina, bar and restaurant nearby.

We befriended the two bartenders there and they agreed to allow us to return the following night with 7 conch we had brought with us in buckets from Pensacola Cay. Our first attempt at cracking open and cooking the alien-like giant snails, which we had tried while anchored in Pensacola Cay, was messy and disgusting. Max had watched a youtube video about cleaning conch prior to our departure from the USA, so we knew we had to make a hole somewhere near the top, remove the guts, and kill the conch with a knife. But we didn’t really know how. In Pensacola Cay we had pulled out our toolbox and went to work on the conch with hammers, saws, screwdrivers and knives. When we told this story to the bartenders at the Bluff House, they called the chef out of the kitchen to listen and have a laugh. We made a deal with them that if we brought the conch there, they would show us how to clean it and how to cook it, and we would get to taste conch the way Bahamians enjoy it.

The following evening we returned with our conch and again tried to open them using tools. Our hands and tools were covered in sticky conch mucus. After watching and laughing at our attempts to open the conch with tools on the Bluff House dock, the Bahamian cook opened one conch by smashing a hole in the correct spot using the tip of another conch. She pulled it out and removed the guts with skill and ease. We then enjoyed fried conch and did not enjoy conch salad (except for Max, because he likes everything). The fried conch was much like tender calamari. In addition to learning how to open the conch, we learned that conch must be tenderized with a mallet before cooking. The bartenders gave us permission to use the showers and laundry machine in secret after the marina had closed. We are grateful to the employees of the Bluff House for their hospitality and good humor.

One might expect that after these experiences, we might choose to do things “the normal way” in the future. Not a chance. The next morning, we had the wind direction and strength we needed to make the next leg of our journey. Both locals and other cruisers we had met had reached a consensus that in order to get from Green Turtle Cay to Elbow Cay one had to sail out to the Atlantic, around Whale Cay, then back to the protected side of Elbow Cay to enter Hope Town harbor. Sailors warned of the “rage seas” or “rages,” where opposing winds, currents, tides, and shallow water combined to create impassable conditions. If one’s boat were to run aground on the passage, the boat would be swamped and battered during the next rage, causing irreparable damage to the vessel and possibly to the crew. Therefore, it was imperative to wait for the right conditions.

The night before the passage, Max found a webpage explaining that it may be possible for boats drafting less than five feet to pass to the south of Whale Cay via “Don’t Rock” passage, without going into the Atlantic. The webpage gave compass bearings, a description of the shoals, and depth soundings the author had made by jumping out of the boat at different points. Since The Seeker drafts just under 4.5 feet, the three of us decided to attempt the supposedly tricky Don’t Rock passage. With gentle following winds we left at mid-tide as it was rising, so that if we did run aground we would be lifted free with the rising tide. As we approached Don’t Rock, we saw several boats that had headed northeast toward Whale Cay passage turn around and head back toward Green Turtle Cay. We laughed at them a little, but approached Don’t Rock with some caution. At one point Christian was up on the bowsprit looking ahead, JB was steering and checking the charts, and Max was by the mast relaying messages and observations between the two. We completed Don’t Rock passage with ease by adjusting the directions we had read on the webpage based on continuous sight navigation and reference to our charts. Our gamble saved us much time and avoided the discomfort of sailing in the Atlantic chop. In fact our passage was so calm that Max made fish tacos with the remaining mutton snapper while JB and Christian used our spare sail to create a make-shift spinnaker. We took turns at the reigns, flying the sail by hand like a kite. With full bellies and greater speed, we soon arrived in the picturesque Hope Town harbor.

Spearfishing option 1: go around the cay

Spearfishing option 2: go across the cay

 Whale Cay and Don't Rock in our chartbook

 

 The report on Don't Rock passage

 

 Snapper tacos from scratch

Keeping an eye on the charts and a foot on the tiller

The improvised spinnaker

Arrival in Hope Town harbor

Before spearfishing off the beach in Hope Town, Elbow Cay
Photo by Lynn Hafele

The Seeker moored in White Sound, Elbow Cay on Steve Dodge's mooring
Photo by Lynn Hafele

A selection of photos from Allans-Pensacola Cay and Green Turtle Cay

 Christian at the tiller

 Max and JB on the east coast of Pensacola Cay

 The Atlantic coast of Pensacola Cay

The dinner table

Conch and lobster tails from the Pensacola Cay lagoon

Our sails and the sun

Returning from the other side of Green Turtle Cay with our catch

Crossing the Gulf Stream

What should have been a twelve-hour trip from Palm Beach, FL to West End, Grand Bahama took nearly twenty-four hours. We left in the evening with a forecast of strong northeasterly winds and rain. We were expecting to sail in heavy weather and prepared accordingly, but nothing could have actually readied us for the crossing. Though we will try, no words can fully capture the intensity. Sailing close-hauled against the wind and multiple squalls in complete darkness, keeping the sails trimmed well and steering through large, inconsistent waves while seasick was a tremendous challenge. In order to keep the boat driving through the waves, some of which were over 15 feet, it was necessary to balance sail area with its effects on the helm, thus maximizing boat speed without compromising steering because of excessive weather helm. The seasickness was intensified by pungent fumes from the gas tanks, now leaking from the waves’ punishment. The compass in the cockpit by which we were steering was off roughly 30⁰ from our electronic navigational systems. Anything that could have come loose in the cabin quickly found its way to the floor: a mirror, food, cookware, extra life jackets, trash, all sorts of miscellaneous gear and supplies. The sink overflowed due to the pressure and wave action on its through-hull. The holding tank backed-up due to similar pressures, flooding JB’s bed and the head. Almost constantly submerged due to our angle of heel, the starboard toerail leaked, soaking clothes, books, our beds, and some electronics. The bolt on our transom-mounted outboard motor mount came loose, lowering the 15 hp motor into the water. Through it all we sailed actively as a team, steering continuously by hand, managing sail changes, reefing, and keeping everything on deck. No damage was caused to the boat’s structure, rigging, or sails and everything we had lashed to the deck and lifelines was still attached the next morning. When the sun finally rose, the ocean had calmed but one more challenge awaited. We could see a squall forming to the east of our location, which we obviously wanted to avoid. Hoping it would not pass over us, we waited to see what direction the storm would take and adjusted our course. By our quick thinking and some luck, we managed to outrun it. As we were exhausted and battered by the conditions of the night before, it was an incredible relief to see West End on the horizon. Crossing the Florida Straits under such conditions immediately put our boat and our seamanship skills to the test. The experience left us feeling confident in one another and in our boat, while humbled by the power of the seas and wind.

Our SPOT

SPOT is a GPS device that sends the location of the user along with a predefined message to several e-mail addresses and phone numbers, as well as to SPOT’s website.  We are carrying several SPOTs onboard The Seeker. Follow this link to view our location updates:

http://share.findmespot.com/shared/faces/viewspots.jsp?glId=0fKn2m9fDHa8e6AXfJTaAI0JlKhmD6rRB

If the link did not work for you, trying copying and pasting it into your browser's window. 

Photos from the first two legs

 JB and Lauren by The Seeker, pre-departure

 Passing through the locks on the Okeechobee

 Sunrise, anchored in the waterway

 The Seeker, viewed from the spreaders

 Walking to purchase provisions

Making landfall at West End, Grand Bahama 

 The middle section of the cabin, fully loaded

The Journey Begins

We are embarking on a truly “once in a lifetime” journey, an adventure where we will discover what we are made of, push our strengths, exploit our weaknesses, test our faith, develop our beliefs, and further understand our lives. The foundations for the trip span many subjects: adventure, friendship, spirituality, philosophy, entertainment, and love, to name but a few. The essence lies in what it truly means to live to the fullest. While the personal, specific reasons for wanting to embark on this trip are individually based, the inspiration lies in our desire and longing to experience the unknown, find adventure, become self-sufficient, live our dreams, and be fulfilled.  In growing, we have begun to formulate our own answers to many of the fundamental questions that have perturbed and perplexed humanity since human beings were able to ask such questions. Why are we here? Why am I here? What, if any, is the meaning of life? What meaning will I create? By participating in this experience, we seek to evolve our answers to these questions. We have fears, concerns, and questions about the future of our culture, our country, humanity, and our world. By removing ourselves from our culture and society, by leaving the people we love and the lives we know, we may be able to view life from a truly different perspective and learn from it.

Before we continue any further, we must explain: we do mean to misuse these profound questions and lofty goals to prevaricate about the nature of our trip. Leaving our families, our friends, our jobs, our homes, and our country is hardly altruistic. Undoubtedly, it is a selfish act. While the achievement of the purposes we have set forth comes with personal sacrifice, the people we love bear a greater sacrifice. We are grateful to them for supporting us in spite of it. The love and labor of our families and friends, our education, financial security, and good health have made this dream possible. It seems to us undoubtedly true that our lives are a wondrous gift and are blessed. To our loved ones: we know you have fears, doubts, and concerns for our safety but please believe that this trip is a part of our learning to live great lives. We pray for your continued support and understanding, as you are as much a part of the trip as the boat and equipment that carries us. We are grateful for all of this and are in awe of this exceptional experience.

Though we know not what will transpire, we must do this. Beyond mere desire, we are impelled to achieve greater self-reliance, to experience new cultures, places, and people, and to fulfill this quest. Since its inception, this trip has had an enormous influence on our lives, as it beckons, motivates, and inspires us daily. This adventure simultaneously embodies who we are, creates us, and teaches us. While we believe this trip is crucial to our personal expression and growth, it is moreover beneficial to all those with whom we share this experience. Whether it is in living vicariously through our adventures, reveling in our triumphs, or learning from our mistakes, the value of this trip goes beyond the three of us. The process of making this dream into a reality began almost a year ago. The journey begins now.