Phillip and I will both eagerly, happily, readily admit it: We are 100% fair-weather sailors on our boat. While there are definitely longer, more intense passages we still want to make in our lifetime—sailing around Cape Horn, for example, sailing in the Indian Ocean, we’ve even thought about doing a leg of the Clipper Race—we probably will not do those in our boat and we will not do them because we like to bash around in rough conditions. Much like the Atlantic-crossings we have done, Phillip and I would undertake those because of the accomplishment it would signify. There is a lot of pride that comes into play when we both can say: “Yes, we’ve sailed across the Atlantic.” Or, when people ask, “How did you get to Cuba?” and we can say: “We sailed there.”
“Just the two of you?”
“Yes, just the two of us.”
I’ll be honest. That’s a pretty f&*king cool feeling. I love the look people sometimes give us in response. I feel like they are now thinking there are more things in the world possible than they knew, and that, if those two can do that, maybe I can do more than I imagined. I hope Phillip and I always inspire each other and other people to greater endeavors. When Phillip and I voluntarily embark on passages we know could likely become extremely arduous, we do it for that reason: to accomplish something rare, do something many others have not.
But, the only reward for a common day-hop where the conditions became gnarly is: You Survived! And your reward is simply a “Whew! We made it,” and an icy cocktail at the end of the day. I’ll be honest: I’m going to have a cocktail either way, so I’ll take it without the bash-about and potential broken-whatever.
Phillip and I would never take our boat out in 25-30 knot winds and big seas just for the sport of it. No, Ma’am. If Phillip and I find ourselves in that unfortunate situation, it’s because we didn’t know it was going to be like that out there and our weather prediction was off. (Because that never happens, right? ; ) Well, that was precisely what happened to us when we wrapped our magic dinghy ride to the Blue Hole at Devil’s-Hoffman Cay and sailed down to Chub Cay in the southern Berry Islands to meet up again with our friends Pat and Steve who have a wonderful rustic island home there. It was supposed to be an easy beam-reach day-sail.
Supposed to …
When we left Devil’s-Hoffman, Phillip and I were expecting winds of 15 out the east which would have put us on a nice beam reach heading south toward Chub Cay. And, recall this was going to be our first time sailing Plaintiff’s Rest—not motor-sailing as we did from Great Harbour to Devil’s-Hoffman, but pure sailing—in SIX MONTHS (Lord!) because we had just returned after hurricane season to pick up our cruising again in November, 2019.
We were so excited to get underway, in fact, and start sailing that day that we weighed anchor and set off in the pouring rain.
We didn’t care. We were going sailing! Our kind of sailing.
And, it definitely started out that way! See?
Nice 15-knot winds right on the beam. We were flying! Look at that. Making 7.3 speed with ease (and comfort). But, about an hour into our “perfect sail” the conditions started to deteriorate. Of course, the rain came back, in cold driving sheets.
But, far worse, the wind not only shifted—to where it was coming more out of the southwest, right on our nose as we tried to pivot onto a heading toward Chub Cay—they also picked up to 22-25 knots, which is just more than we prefer. Don’t get me wrong. Our baby girl is tough as nails, with all new wire rigging put on in 2016, her mast-step rebuilt stronger than ever before, and a super rugged but flexible balsa core throughout. She is fully capable of sailing in 25+ with ease, I just don’t personally want to see, hear, or feel her do it. The potential for breakage skyrockets and stresses me out. I’m not a shoe person but it would be like putting on a new pair of exquisite, shiny Louis Vitton heels and then running like mad through the streets. You are totally going to mess those shoes up. (And your ankles, too, in that scenario). Although I hear women do it …on a professional level!
But, there we were, three hours now away from turning back toward Devil’s-Hoffman, or two hours into the wind to get where we needed to keep our cruising momentum. What would you do?
We reefed up and kept trucking. It was kind of shocking to see how quickly the seas kicked up, though. I guess with no protection from the south, it doesn’t take long for the wind to impact the seas, because we were beating into some miniature monsters.
Every time we tacked thinking it would give us an advantage, I swear we were going backwards. Like we were on a sea treadmill and losing ground. I felt like the boat gave us a “Really guys?” each time we tacked and didn’t gain an inch.
In moments like those, I wish I could become this huge hand that comes down from the sky and just plucks her like a rubber bath duckie out of that mess and sets her gently down in the anchorage, still and safe, and on her hook.
Have any of you ever felt that way? You’re fine to bury the rails and beat to windward on anyone’s boat but your own? I wonder if I’m alone on this?
Although Phillip and I love sailing, we love cruising, we love being on our boat, there are just some sails I want to end, and, unfortunately, this was one for us. Our first sail of the 2019 cruising season, and we just wanted it to end. But, I must say the boat performed beautifully. She powered through, and that hellish beat was over in a few hours. I can’t tell you what a sigh of relief Phillip and I both let out when we turned into the inlet at Chub Cay and the seas finally loosened their grip.
I love that moment when the boat finally slows from a full-out run to a gentle gallop, then to an easy trot, and you know you’re going to make it. That day we (well, and by “we” I mean primarily Plaintiff’s Rest, with me and Phillip simply riding on her back) definitely earned our “Whew! We made it.” And, you remember what I said about the cocktail. Happy hour is not optional on Plaintiff’s Rest. : )
There she is! Anchored out safely (thank goodness!) behind Frazer’s Hog Cay after a rough beat.
Next up, we play around the southern Berries with some fantastic island friends and embark on our first lionfish spearing adventure. You never know, Captain Annie may still become a lion tamer yet!
It’s not just a rubber transport, it’s more of a magic carpet. Looking at the photos from our time at Devil’s-Hoffman in the Berry Islands, Bahamas, I felt inspired to share a little about … the magic of a dinghy ride.
For those who haven’t yet bought a boat, or haven’t yet set off on an extended cruise, haven’t truly lived aboard for a few months in foreign places, you may not know what majestic wonders your dinghy has in store for you. As a cruiser, your dinghy is your ticket to shore. It is most often the vessel that carries you to a place you have never been before. It also brings you down, almost eye-level with the waters you are anchored in and often shows you for the first time the clarity of the water, the depth, the varied grass, rock, or sand that lies beneath you.
It brings you closer to the marine life that is swimming, living, sleeping below you, even the Thalassophobian-creatures that might lurk beneath. Phillip and I have seen starfish, reef sharks, and sea turtles, creatures very foreign to us at home, all while riding in the dinghy.
Every time we pump up the dinghy and hop in to ride to a new shore I can feel my heart striking up a feisty chord. The new-ness of the places we travel to is what we crave. Phillip and I both have a passion for seeing, experiencing, eating, and immersing ourselves in things new. And, it is often the dinghy that takes us there, to a new beach, where we walk a new shore, follow a new trail (sometimes after eight false starts), and find a new blue hole we have never seen before. The feeling of experiencing something for the first time—a place, a song, a person, a dish, a creature, flower, scene, sight, smell. The newness of it all captivates us. And, often it is all made possible solely by the dinghy.
Even in local, familiar anchorages, our dinghy offers us that 5 o’clock buzz around the anchorage, with a drink (better known as a “roadie”) in hand—always—where we stop boat-to-boat and catch up with, or meet for the first time, our eclectic, inspiring fellow cruisers out there.
The dinghy is what enables us to connect with those around us, otherwise we would be isolated on the boat, never introducing ourselves to those around us, getting to know them, and letting them get to know us. In an anchorage, that all happens by dinghy.
So, yes, while it is just Hypalon, valves, and glue … to some. Our dinghy (lovingly named “Dicta” on Plaintiff’s Rest) is so much more. The thrill of our dinghy ride into Hoffman’s Cay in the Berries to dive the blue hole made me realize how much I appreciate, and look forward to, the moment Phillip and I load into the dinghy and set off to a new place, and it inspired me to share with you all just how many roles—in addition to a magic carpet—that our dinghy plays for us.
A conch-scavenging vehicle:
An any-reef, any-time scuba stop:
A protector from potentially-unfriendly foes : (
A keeper of gathered goodies:
A source of entertainment (pumping 7” of water out after a pour):
A source of more boat projects (they’re good for you, trust me – keeps you humble):
A provider of “whole-boat selfies” : ) Those are important!
A front row seat to some of the best sunsets we’ve ever seen:
A floating scaffold for doing hull-side (big) boat projects:
A good, safe practice boat for Captain Annie (who often gets the backwards right-left tiller function mixed up and bumps into things):
A source of yet-more boat projects (you can see how we stay pretty humble):
A source of yet-even-more entertainment (you can see how we stay happy):
And (just for fun) the subject for an aptly-titled, badass video from our scoot around Powell Cay in the Abacos in 2017. Enjoy!
The dinghy does all of this for us, and so much more. Dicta is such a crucial part of our transportation, connection, and overall cruising experience. Do you agree? Share in a comment what your dinghy means to you!
I probably had way too much fun writing this one! Go on … ask me how many bags of wine we can stow in our “cruiser’s wine cellar!” ; ) We interrupt our regularly-scheduled Bahamas broadcast for this fun announcement! This was such an honor and a treat for my Cruiser’s Wine Cellar piece to be included in SAIL Magazine’s 50th anniversary edition! Wow! This very fun article I put together at the request of Peter Nielsen with SAIL who asked for some insight into our new “creative stowage in the bilge.” A couple of custom starboard inserts afforded Phillip and I the perfect new place to keep wine cool and stable aboard s/v Plaintiff’s Rest.
There are some fun photos of the project in the article that I hope might inspire some creative bilge stowage on your own boat!
We hope you all enjoy the article! If you pick up a copy and enjoy it, be sure to let the folks at SAIL Magazine know. Then, tell us, where is your “cruiser’s wine cellar” on your boat?
I love wine … Nope, still not big enough! It can never be big enough. : D
I have a confession to make. I have a phobia—thalassophobia—or a unique form of it, perhaps. Where Thalassophobia is the fear of what lies beneath you in a vast, deep body of water like the ocean, mine is limited to shallow bodies of water when the water is dark or murky and I cannot see what’s on the bottom. I think the fact that the bottom is closer to me, 20 feet or less, is what scares me more than the deep ocean, because the dark creatures below are now within striking distance! What the heck is down there? This guy?
I don’t know. Because I can’t see the bottom! And, I’m way too creative to not start imagining all kinds of monstrosities awaiting me there.
And, I say my phobia is different because I have swam in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean and nothing about it frightened me.
In the ocean, I guess I feel like whatever is down there is likely way, way, waaaayyy down there. I’ll have plenty of time to see that monster coming to crawl back onto the boat. But, when the bottom is just ten or so feet down, I have no hope of escaping. I’m only one tail/tentacle flap away from that guy!
What’s worse? If I can feel the murky, muddy, unknown bottom on my feet but I can’t see it. Bwwwummhhhuuh. I just had goosebumps flow through me thinking about that. When my feet start sinking into a murky bottom, I flip the heck out! Here’s what it probably looks like down there:
Here’s what I see down there.
Imagine stepping on this guy …
I have often been seen swimming, fully horizontal, in two-feet of water all the way to the shore because I don’t want to walk on the bottom. Is anyone with me on this? Am I crazy? Wait … Don’t answer that …
But, I mention the phobia to share one fantastic victory! My dive into the Blue Hole at Hoffman’s Cay in the Bahamas!
Just you wait. The real-live footage of my phobia is hilarious. After Phillip and I finally found our flanges while replacing our raw water impeller, got the engine put back together, and found me a suitable shower shoe, albeit it non-Croc, it was time for us to shove off and leave Great Harbour Cay for the first time in six months. Our baby girl had weathered exceptionally well there, even as Hurricane Dorian raged just over head, and it was time to reward her with another awesome cruising season! Phillip and I had been looking forward to flying back to the boat for months, and it was all for this moment! When we finally got our baby girl moving again! Oh, and when I could wear bikinis all day every day for months! Whoo-freaking-whoo! Captain Annie even de-docked us like a boss and we headed out the very narrow cut into Great Harbour Cay that kept Plaintiff’s Rest so well protected this past season.
Being out, the boat moving, the sails filled, for the first time in six months was exhilarating. You know what this calls for … That’s right. Sailing selfies!!
We sailed around the north tip of Little Stirrup Cay—which, now as Carnival Island’s “Coco Cay,” is sadly a monstrosity in the beautiful Berry Islands—in between four massive cruise ships. As I’ve mentioned before, we are not a fan of Coco Cay.
But, we had read great things about the anchorage between Devil’s Cay and Hoffman’s Cay just south of the Stirrup Cays, called “Devils-Hoffman” in the Explorer charts, including a pristine little Blue Hole in the middle of Hoffman’s Cay. Here is a map of the Berries showing the location of Devil’s Cay, which is just south of Hoffman’s Cay.
And, here is the Blue Hole on Hoffman’s. I mean, look how cool that is!
A place where the Earth just fell away, leaving behind a seemingly-perfect blue sphere of mysteries! Phillip and I were determined to find it, jump it, and call ourselves Blue Hole Champions! I think they give out little rings afterward that you can all clink together and say “Our powers combined, we are Captain Blue Hole!” or something along those lines. Just for fun : )
I used to love that show. Maybe if it had been more popular, we’d all be in better shape now. Captain Planet aside, Phillip and I had a great little motor-sail from Great Harbour Cay down to Devil’s-Hoffman. The winds were light and we knew we needed to run the engine a bit to get her legs stretched out. The guidebooks also did not disappoint. Devil’s-Hoffman offered a beautiful secure little anchorage that was easy to navigate with plenty of depth. Plaintiff’s Rest seemed incredibly happy to be off the dock and floating free on her hook.
And, Phillip and I were excited to pump up our dinghy, Dicta, for the first time this season and get to shore to find this mesmerizing Blue Hole!
From the overhead view, you would think this hole would be super easy to find, right? Right in the middle of the island where all the trees and brush just fall away? One would think. It was not. There weren’t any signs or indications that we could find on how to find it. We started on a spit of sand on the eastern shore, ducking into different paths or openings in the thick brush, striking out left and right.
I even climbed a tree to try to look up and out to find the hole, with no luck. After a half hour of hiking around on the east side, we decided to hop back in the dinghy and cruise around to the south shore to try there. Our first few path attempts, we struck out again. With the setting sun on our heels, we were about to leave feeling disheartened and unaccomplished, until Phillip saw a little opening on the left side of the south beach. As we began to follow that along, it seemed clear this was finally it … THE TRAIL to the Blue Hole. And, turns out, it was! We turned a corner, the thick brush finally fell away, and there she was. The infamous Blue Hole.
With all the talk of this Blue Hole and our tremendous efforts to find it, I knew I had to jump in. Which, in and of itself has never been a problem for me. I’m an avid cliff diver.
But, I did not know this Blue Hole would trigger my murky-bottom version of Thalassophobia. When we looked over the edge, however, and saw the hole, I could see that there was a bottom, I just couldn’t make out what was down there. My brain said: “Where’s that phobia switch? Oh, there it is. Flick ” And I said: *GULP* Seriously, look at my expression. Does that look like a face of courage to you?
But, I was going to be brave. I’d talked a big blue-hole game. Phillip and I had overcome big hurdles to get here. I was not going to let my phobia stop me. Despite knowing monsters like this were down there …
… don’t try to convince me otherwise, I know they are … I dove anyway! There she goes!
But, to prove my phobia is real, I’m so glad Phillip filmed this bit. Listen closely to what I tell Phillip when I’m swimming back to shore.
I crack myself up watching that. Phillip dipped in next and just swam around all leisure like.
Where Phillip lounges …
I swim like a maniac trying to get out.
I even dove with my flip flops in hand because I didn’t want to have to walk on any creepy murky bottom on the way out that might freak me out. But, by-golly I did it!
I DOVE THAT HOLE!!!
Now, where’s my ring? Ha! Now, tell me, do any of you out there think you have this phobia? If so, is it the deep version or the shallow, like mine? And, who has dove the Blue Hole at Devil’s-Hoffman?
Next up, we’ll share a fun little problem we had with our transducer. I mean who really needs a depth gage in the Bahamas? Pssshhh … That’s child’s play! When Phillip asked me “What’s the depth, Captain Annie?” I said …
[Spoken in a thick Aussie accent] There I was … standing on the precipice, knowing it was going to be a gnarly journey across treacherous waters and an even more unforgiving landscape once I reached the other side. But, he was out there, baiting me, challenging me … one wild and unpredictable Croc!
Okay, I know, it’s not an actual scary crocodile, but do you know what IS scarier than a crocodile? Whatever the heck is crawling around on this floor that I have nightmares will crawl under my toenails grow roots out if I don’t wear shower shoes.
And, it just so happens my shower shoes were Crocs. These cute little flamingo-themed croc flops that aren’t nearly as bad as the original Croc, which I both refuse to (and cannot) wear. Seriously, the first few times I tried to wear the iconic platypus style when they were a wild hot rage 15 years ago, that bulbous toe would always stub the ground causing me to stumble, trip, even fall. Apologies in advance if any of you are Croc-lovers out there, but I’m going to go out on a limb and say many of these “Croc truths” are not wholly UN-true …
Jesus, those are funny. And, yes, they make them in heels.
Yes, they make them in the form of a cake.
They even make everyone wear them to weddings on the lake.
I’m not sure about this one, though? Truth or a Croc?
While I cannot do the platypus version, I did love my flamingo shower flops and they taught me a very important lesson. Maybe this should be Cruising Rule #78: When boarding a boat, never leave your flops on the dock. Why?
They’ll blow the heck away! Flops mostly, but boat shoes too, particularly if they are Crocs, which mine are! Don’t hate, mine are cute!
But, you know those things are made out of super-light NASA foam stuff that can never sink (and likely never biodegrade, unfortunately). While they are not recyclable either, I was at least pleased to find the company Crocs has partnered with a program, Soles 4 Souls, where you can donate your used Croc shoes back so Crocs can then distribute them to poverty-stricken countries for kids and adults who cannot afford shoes. At least there’s that.
Sadly I had broken Rule #78 that November day post-shower and one of my poor Croc-tastic shower flops blew off the dock and across the bay at Great Harbour Cay. I came back up after dropping my shower goodies down below and making a cocktail (because that’s the first thing you do post-shower!) to find only one lone flamingo flop left on the dock! But, Phillip and I did not fear, because those things float forever, right? We’d lost Crocs to the same plight before only to find them happily floating on the other side of the harbor the next day. As the sun was setting that evening, he and I both swore we saw a tiny little white spec across the harbor from our boat, so we eased merrily into the evening (and into round two of our ‘tails) assuring ourselves a quick Croc hunt in the morning would surely uncover my missing reptile.
So, the next morning, we lit up early and pumped up our awesome inflatable YOLO paddleboard on deck so I could paddle over to find that darned shoe! Phillip got me this paddleboard as a birthday gift (he’s kind of awesome that way) back in … gosh … 2014 I believe, and it’s been a real asset on the boat.
It’s a secondary vehicle to/from shore when we need it, a nice getaway from one another when we need a solitary “check-out” paddle, and even fun trying to surf it in light waves! We even patched it with G-Flex 3-4 years ago when it blew out a seam and that crazy fix has held ever since!
[Back to the Aussie accent] Pumped and prepared, off she went, rigid paddle in hand, eyes laser-focused on her target. As she muscled her way across the tumultuous, enemy-laden waters, her knuckles whitened and her muscles flexed. Hunter Annie was on a mission to wrangle a killer Croc on the uncharted eastern shore.
Yes, it was that dramatic. That was quite the paddle. I almost … broke a sweat! *gasp* I’m kidding. You sweat all the time in the Bahamas. From the minute you wake, until the sun goes down and you shower. It’s just part of it. Sadly, though I did make it safely across, I found no white flamingo-themed Croc on the lee shore. Whatever white spec Phillip and I had seen the night before was just that … a crock! I checked and overturned every white piece of anything I could find – pieces of Styrofoam, white tennis shoes, white take-out containers, you name it. But, no flamingo Croc. I did, however, find a spongy gem! Laid bare, all on its own, as if calling to me, was one lonely black Teva flop. It looked fairly new, sun-baked so I assumed it was clean, and just my size! Likely a men’s shoe from the look of it, but still just my size! Only problem was, I couldn’t recall which Croc flop I had lost … the right or the left? Hoping for the best, I tucked the black Teva under the bungee on my board and paddled my way back to the boat.
And, wouldn’t you know it …
The perfect pair! Ebony and ivory! These are, I kid you not, my shower shoes to this day. I get some funny looks sometimes on my way to/from the showers. But, if folks think me mismatching my shoes is the worst I did that day, then I believe I’m ahead of the game! And, I love a shoe with a story. I love anything that has a story.
The funny thing was, though, this tongue-in-cheek “croc hunt”—while not in actuality dangerous at all—did almost end in actual danger on the way back. So … I mentioned the inflatable paddleboard, right? And, the “enemy-laden waters.” I wasn’t kidding about that. Do you want to know what swims around in the Great Harbour Cay Marina?
Sharks. Plenty of them.
We were disheartened to find, about an hour after my paddle, our paddleboard wilting and sinking into the water behind the boat. Poor thing. She’d blown another seam But, she’d definitely done her job first. It gives me chills looking back thinking that paddleboard could have started deflating and sinking when I was still many yards from the boat and I would have been flailing around in those shark-ridden waters. *gulp* I know they say that sharks in the wild will likely ignore you if you’re not failing about, injured, or bleeding. But, I’m two out of three of those things on any given day, so I don’t want to test the theory. In all, I called the croc hunt a success as it restored my shower show pair, and we set to patching up the YOLO hoping she wouldn’t be any worse for the wear!
And, if I didn’t mention this I would be sorely amiss! That night on the boat Phillip whipped up pure bliss! Homemade meatloaf with spinach and mushrooms.
I love wining and dining with that man – Cheers!
Next up, we head to Devil’s-Hoffman. Any of you ever been there? It was the Blue Hole or Bust!
They’re more like guidelines, really, but we cruisers do have them: good rules of thumb to keep you and your boat going. “Find that flange!” is an important one, as it can mean the difference between carrying on with a happy, humming engine, or sitting stuck in a rut with an engine who can’t keep his cool. No bueno.
After Phillip and I received the fantastic news that Plaintiff’s Rest had gallantly weathered Hurricane Dorian and was floating happy and safe and awaiting for our return in Great Harbour Cay, we eagerly started planning our cruising this season. While it’s fun to think about all of the interesting places we will go and things we will see or eat when we get there, to ensure we can actually get there (in theory anyway), our cruise-planning often begins with the following important questions:
What work needs to be done on the boat before we leave the dock?
What boat parts/supplies do we need to bring to the boat to do that work, versus what we can acquire once we arrive?
What gear or spares do we need to replenish before we shove off and where can we get those?
She’s a boat, right? If you want to go cruising, you’ve got to keep her safe and seaworthy, which requires a great deal of forethought and work. Cruising is every bit of what they say about “working on your boat in exotic places.” In fact, I’m pretty sure that’s Cruisers’ Rule #1, or in the top ten, at least.
When Phillip and I asked ourselves these questions as we were preparing to return to the boat after Dorian, one of the first tasks that came to mind was the need to change the oil in the engine and inspect/replace the impeller before we set off to cruise further down into the Bahamas. Knowing we had plenty of oil on the boat and the kit to do this, as well as plenty of spare impellers, we were fully stocked to take on this one with everything we already had on the boat. All, she needed was us! So, we hopped on a plane in November and happily made our way back to our beautiful floating home!
I cannot tell you how grateful we both were to finally get back to our boat in the wake of Dorian and seeing in person that she survived. Surviving hurricane season can be a very scary thing for a boat, and its owners.
Once we got settled aboard, and were able to get the main canvas out of the saloon and back up on the deck (re-installing the bimini and dodger, mainsail and stack pack, getting Wendy (our head sail back on), etc., Phillip and I were ready to dig into the necessary engine work.
We have a Westerbeke 27A on our boat, and we strive to change the oil every 50-75 hours, closer to 50 than 75 when we can help it. I’ve written about the type of pump/oil container we use on our boat to extract the used oil out of the engine and contain it until we can walk it to a proper oil-dispensing location.
How We Change the Oil On Our Boat
Phillip and I had quite the adventure in St. Petersburg a few years back tracking down this handy little pump from a Back-Door Marine Supply Guy!
I’ve also published an article and video previously showing how we change the oil in our engine on the boat if you are interested here: Maintenance in Marsh Harbour – How We Change the Oil On the Boat. That also includes one way, in particular, on how NOT to do it, when we suffered quite the nasty oil spill on Plaintiff’s Rest. Good times. The takeaway: do NOT tip that pump more than 90-degrees horizontal or it will squirt oil out the handle the next time you pump. That’s Cruisers’ Rule #149, I believe.
Our Raw and Fresh Water Cooling Systems
After we got the oil changed, we next set our sights on the impeller. For those of you somewhat new to engine maintenance (which I myself was just a few short years ago), this is how I wish someone would have explained it to me … in Annie Speak, so to speak. Most diesels have primarily two cooling systems: the raw water system and the “fresh” water system (which in our boat we fill with antifreeze, aka coolant (that Ghostbuster green stuff)). The raw water system uses a rubber wheel (the impeller) that spins to create suction pulling raw (sea) water into the heat exchanger.
The coolant in the fresh water system is completely contained (well, when you don’t have any minor coolant leaks – very common, particularly around the thermostat on our boat), and is moved through heat exchanger (where—just as the name implies—warmer coolant from the engine is cooled by the raw water running swiftly on the other side of it in the exchanger) and then recirculated through the engine via a pump that is spun by the alternator belt on the back of the engine.
I am explaining all of this here for the benefit of newbie cruisers (which I, in many ways, still consider myself), and for future reference as you will learn soon about an issue we had with this cooling system in future travels.
We’ll Have Some Fresh Water Cooling System Lessons to Share Soon – Stay Tuned!
Clever foreshadowing will have to be forfeited here for the loftier goal of sharing and educating as it was mine and Phillip’s replacement of the impeller on the raw water pump before we left Great Harbour Cay that reminded me of this important little nugget undoubtedly worth sharing (or, technically, I should say reiterating as I have mentioned it here before). I urge you cruisers: when swapping out your impellers, if you notice some of the flanges on your old impeller have broken off (common), there is one critical thing you must do:
Cruisers’ Rule #42: FIND THOSE MISSING FLANGES!
It can be tempting to ignore them. I completely understand. They’re broken off. They’re gone. You’re putting in an entirely new impeller, so who gives a … You should give a. That’s who. I’ve documented several instances where Phillip and I ourselves or we have seen other boaters suffer some serious consequences from a thrown flange that was not tracked down and later lodged itself in critical locations that impeded water flow and prevented the raw water system from working properly.
At the very least, a wayward flange can easily cause your engine to overheat. Bad enough. But, in one rather severe case (Yannick’s!) it melted his muffler! Zoiks!
I don’t want a melted muffler, do you? But, Phillip and I learned another small lesson during this impeller exchange when we noticed two flanges thrown and had to go track them down through the raw water system. That is:
Look In the Easy Places First
Sound silly? Perhaps it is, but our gut instinct was to start at the point closest to the pump and work our way toward the heat exchanger. And, with this thinking in mind, we almost (alllmmooosst! but thankfully we didn’t) disconnect the hose from the pump to the exchanger first. This would have been a several-hour rigorous chore trying to get that thing off and back on again. And, would have been completely unnecessary in hindsight. What I learned during this impeller maintenance session was that the heat exchange end caps are far easier to remove than hoses (many of which have been forged onto the barb after years of pressure). The end caps are just simple bolts. Very easy to remove (and replace the gaskets once you’re in there).
The Heat Exchanger Acts a Bit Like a Pea Trap
Also, the ends of the heat exchanger (on ours anyway and I’m sure it’s similar on others) act a bit like little pea-traps under the sink. It’s the most likely place something that “goes down the drain” (or in this case, goes down the hose from the pump to the exchanger) is going to swirl around and get caught.
Thankfully, after loosening the hose clamp on the hose from the pump the exchanger and giving it several hard tugs, my eyes traveled over to the much-easier-to-remove bolt on the starboard cap of the heat exchanger, and I suggested to Phillip: “Maybe let’s check the easy place first.”
Now, did I suggest this out of wisdom? No, it was pure “I don’t want to wrestle this anaconda-hose anymore” laziness. But, it still turned out to be the right thing to do! After we clamped the hose back up and popped the end of the heat exchanger off, our two missing flanges were sitting nice and accessible right there for us. Whew! Got ‘em!
The chase is not always that easy, and rarely what we would exactly call “fun,” but finding those missing flanges can mean the difference between continued cruising and camping out at the dock with an angry engine. That’s why it’s a Cruiser’s Rule!
Now that we were back aboard and had our beautiful boat up and running again, it was time for Phillip and I to focus on the way-more-fun side of cruise-planning: Where to? Next up, we’ll share our thoughts and planning on how best to make our way from the Bahamas to the BVIs. Let the thorny debate begin!
Sep. 1, 2019, a Cat 5 hurricane with maximum sustained winds of 185 mph and a minimum central pressure of 910 mb hit the Bahamas. It was the strongest hurricane to hit the northern Bahamas since modern records. Phillip and I watched this monster breed, grow, and feast on the warm waters of the Atlantic Ocean as it approached. While we had done all we could—our boat was as prepared as possible—nothing can ease the fear of a hurricane claiming her, the one you’ve toiled so painstakingly over. The boat you love. As Dorian began to rip into the Abacos, all we could do was watch and hold our breath as Plaintiff’s Rest sat tied to the dock at Great Harbour Cay in the northern Berry Islands, Bahamas.
August 28, 2019, Dorian is officially declared a hurricane. After rapid intensification, on August 31, 2019, she is declared a Cat 4 with a path pointed right toward Great Harbour Cay. My stomach lurches as NOAA loads and shows us our potential fate.
“I’m actually glad it’s pointed right at us,” Phillip says. “That usually means it’s going to go another direction.”
While that may sound crazy (everyone has a few odd storm superstitions), that one actually holds rather true, as Hurricane Michael was pointed straight toward us in Pensacola in October, 2018, initially.
But, because of our superstition, that meant the storm was going to veer off and just miss us. Thankfully, that’s exactly what Hurricane Michael did, heading just over 100 miles to the east, sadly, walloping Panama City. While it is always tough to “wish” a hurricane on anyone else, all you can think when it’s coming for you is “please turn, please turn, please turn.”
Although it was unclear whether the damage from Dorian would be confined mostly to the Abacos alone, or the Abacos and the Berries, was yet to be determined, Plaintiff’s Rest did have several things going for her:
The incredible staff at Great Harbour Cay (“GCH”) Marina;
The marina’s 360-degree protection and impressive hurricane track record;
Our extensive hurricane preparation; and
Our final magic touch: Steve and Ros!
1.The Staff at GHC
While I discussed this extensively in the previous blog, it bears noting once more as this was one of the primary thoughts Phillip and I had running through our heads back in Pensacola as we continued to refresh NOAA and watch the news: Our boat was in the best hands possible with Steven and his staff at GHC. I kept envisioning Steven with his 14’ “gang plank” he called it, having placed and scaled it out to our boat in the middle of two slips working feverishly to “spider-web” her out, as I call it.
As I mentioned, we had an additional six (6) 50’ dock lines shipped to Steven at his request for a situation just like this, and I was confident he was using every one of them to expertly position our boat for the storm. While the docks at GHC unfortunately do not float, Steven used a rock-solid strategy in tying the first set of six lines at a length that would allow her to float safely in a normal rise and fall of tide. He then tied the secondary round of six lines at a length that would allow her to continue floating safely in the middle of the slips if the tide/surge rose another 3-4’ and/or any of the initial round of lines failed.
Phillip and I were incredibly grateful for a team willing to take such great efforts in our leave to ensure our boat was safe. We also heard from a follower on Facebook after posting about our hurricane hole who rode out Hurricane Matthew in GHC. She told us what impressive lengths Steven and his staff went to to help prepare and protect all of the boats in the marina. Thank you, Cynthia, for sharing this!
Thankfully, due to Steven and his team’s efforts, not a single boat was lost when Hurricane Matthew went over on almost a virtual track to Dorian. So, for Dorian, we had the best deckhands possible looking out for our boat: Steven’s Angels.
2.GHC’s Hurricane Track Record
One of the first things we learned about GHC when Phillip and I began to research it was its impressive track record. As I mentioned in the previous post, Phillip and I were comforted by an article we found written by a cruising couple who (like Cynthia) spent Hurricane Matthew in GHC and highly recommended it: Hurri-CAN or Hurri-CAN’T.
In addition to Matthew, knowing GHC also survived Hurricane Andrew, another Cat 4 direct hit, back in 1992, again with no damage to boats or homes, help put our minds at ease.
GHC is either a very protected place, or darn lucky. Either way, Phillip and I wanted both luck and geography on our side for hurricane season.
3.Our Hurricane Boat Prep
The sad reality of hurricanes is that no matter how much you prepare, how many anchors you drop or lines you tie, how buttoned up and stripped she is, whether on jacks or in the water, if a Cat 5 rolls over your boat, all bets are off. Nothing is guaranteed. No place is 100% safe, especially when there is always the factor of other boats around her that may not be secured off as securely, either in the shipyard or out. All you can do is make the best decisions possible, do as much prep work as possible, then pray and plead to the hurricane gods that this time won’t be your time. That’s what we did. I’ve posted an article before outlining all of the hurricane prep work we do on our boat anytime we think she might face a significant storm or hurricane for your benefit here. This comprehensive prep-work was a very comforting thought as Phillip and I watched Dorian rumble closer and closer from our laptops back in Pensacola, knowing we had done all we could.
4.Our Eyes and Ears on the Ground: Steve and Ros
This was an unexpected gift. Phillip and I had been lucky enough to meet this wonderful couple both when we cruised through Bimini on our way into the Bahamas this past spring, and again when we both ended up stopping in GHC to park our boats for hurricane season. Steve and Ros are a very interesting and entertaining liveaboard cruising-couple who are just getting their first taste of the Bahamas this year. We had fun dining and hanging out (literally!) with them when Phillip and I were in GHC before we left in May of last year.
While Steve and Ros chose, themselves, to stay in GHC once it appeared Dorian was traveling significantly and safely to the north, they thankfully had a condo where they were able to stay so they remained high, dry, and safe. But, this also let them be our eyes and ears on the ground as the storm rolled over Plaintiff’s Rest in Slip 6, which they could see from the safety of their condo. This was the view from their condo (Plaintiff’s Rest is the sailboat on the far right):
We spoke on the phone many times to Steve and Ros as the storm approached making sure they were safe, offering the food and water we knew was on our boat in the aftermath of the storm (as everyone expected the power, water, and food supplies to be diminished for days, possibly weeks post-Dorian), and talking about the conditions they were seeing in the marina. Steve and Ros were able to send us some pictures and video during the height of the storm.
You’ll notice in the photo above, the water has not risen enough yet to reach the docks. Thankfully the actual storm itself was fairly benign in GHC, with reports of winds only up to 90-100 mph in the marina. However, immediately after the storm, as the surge began to flow in (even with the incredibly narrow cut I documented previously that leads into the marina), new fears began to grow as the water quickly consumed the docks and continued to rise.
One of the most frightening images I think we received from Ros was of all the boats in the marina with no docks visible—just lines stretched taut into the dark water below. If that trend continued, Phillip and I knew our baby girl would be in trouble struggling with dock lines stretched to their max and continually-rising waters. Unfortunately, this was the last video we received from Steve and Ros around 4:00 p.m. on September 2, 2019 before their cell service went down for approximately 20 hours.
I’ll admit that was a bit of a frightening moment, not knowing what was happening to the boat, what the water was doing, what lines, if any, were currently failing. All kinds of graphic images wandered through our minds during that time, imagining her breaking free of all lines, being lifted up above the docks and laid back down on concrete, damaged, impaled, or worse. But, Phillip and I had put our faith in that marina, its location and layout, and its exceptional staff. And, finally, around 2:00 p.m. on the afternoon of September 3, 2019, Phillip and I received a photo from Steve and Ros that (I’ll be honest) made me tear up:
A wet, post-hurricane selfie with our baby! Our floating baby! I was elated, thrilled, laughing silly with the realization that she had made it! Plaintiff’s Rest had survived Dorian!
That was the probably the most frightened Phillip and I have felt as a storm passed over our boat. I remember Nate was very scary when we decided to haul out and strap her up as best as possible, but Nate then took a turn more toward Orange Beach and the reports from Pensacola told us they had only sustained 40 knot winds, so we were almost immediately relieved. Now, in 2019, watching our boat rise with a surge that was unpredictable without updates for an extended period of time was … well, gut-wrenching. But, we know many others lost their boats, homes, and livelihoods in the Abacos when Dorian went over, so we can only consider ourselves lucky, and extremely grateful.
While there is no way to say what is the “right” or “best” decision to make when a hurricane is coming, because there as so many variables and unpredictable outcomes, I guess I’ll apply the same rule that we use for docking: If no one was hurt and nothing was broken, it’s a success. Thankfully, we can say that this year—with that monster Dorian roaring a mere 60 miles north of our boat—and neither Phillip nor I were hurt and nothing was broken, which means our hurricane plan this year was a success. Thankfully.
But, my lawyer (Phillip : ) wisely reminded me to include this important disclaimer: Deciding where or how to secure your boat for hurricane season can be an incredibly difficult decision, with no “right” answer in sight. But it is a decision you have to make on your own after conducting your own research, knowing no place, including Great Harbour Cay, can ever be a 100% guarantee.
Many thanks to Steven and his incredible staff at GHC for watching over our baby girl, to fellow cruisers who have posted and shared their experience at GHC, and a resounding, almighty thank-you to Steve and Ros for keeping an eye on our baby girl during the storm and venturing out when it was safe to make sure she was, too. Plaintiff’s Rest will be forever grateful!!
Where to go for hurricane season is always a very tough call. I’ve written here before about hurricanes, the sometimes horrible reality of cruising, and some of our more difficult winters spent here in Pensacola when Phillip and I often had to make the very hard decision of whether to haul: a tough call. I am now grateful I can write here again—with after another hurricane season behind us and, thankfully, our baby girl still floating safe—about our experience this year and what we decided to do with our boat this past hurricane season, 2019. This was another tough call on our part for two reasons: 1) it would leave her still very much in “the box” (although no place is guaranteed); and 2) it would mean we would have to leave the boat unattended for an extended period of time. But, we decided to do it and it turned out to be the right call. Hindsight 20/20. Dodging hurricanes has to be the absolute worst part of cruising.
So, how did we hear about Great Harbour Cay?
You might have guessed Pam Wall as she has given us such a wealth of information about “her beloved Bahamas” as she calls them. Love that lady …
But, a dock neighbor in Pensacola actually first told us about it as it was a spot he had kept his exquisite motor yacht during hurricane season several times. And, if someone with that many more zeroes on his boat value than ours felt comfortable leaving it there, that definitely gave me some peace of mind. We honestly had no idea there was any hurricane hole in the Bahamas until he mentioned it.
Phillip and I had already decided not to bring Plaintiff’s Rest back to Pensacola this year for hurricane season because the odds of getting hit hard in Pensacola are fairly high (Pensacola was hit by Hurricane Opal in 1995, Ivan in 2004, Dennis in 2005, and Hurricane Michael only missed us by 100 miles, demolishing hundreds of boats, in 2018). And, the huge bay, which is fantastic for sailing, can be devastating if a hurricane hits us there in the corner pocket of Florida. Phillip and I spent the last several hurricane seasons in Pensacola playing the “haul or not to haul?” game, sometimes back-to-back each season (for Hurricane Nate in 2017 and Hurricane Michael in 2018). That can be an exhausting and expensive process, one that we wanted to avoid this year if possible.
So, our plan for hurricane season 2019 had initially been to dot through the Bahamas rather quickly and get the boat from Pensacola down to Grenada over April-May. But, you know me and Phillip. When it comes to cruising, we don’t like to do anything quickly. It always seems like we could spend weeks (months even!) at some of the places we only stop at for days and, even then, we would still feel like we hadn’t fully explored the place. And, the Bahamas have really resonated with us. Phillip always says it is a place he had heard so many people rushed through in their excitement to get to what most people call “the Caribbean” (the BVIs, Antilles, and such) but once down there, they realize they zipped through the stunning Bahamian islands too quickly. We didn’t want to suffer the same fate!
So, when we started to research Great Harbour Cay and gain some confidence in it, the thought of having an entire second year to explore the Bahamas without having to make the arduous journey (not to mention sometimes dangerous, sometimes lengthy if the weather doesn’t cooperate) bringing the boat to and from Pensacola to the Bahamas two more times, Phillip and I really started to see the appeal of Great Harbour Cay for hurricane season 2019. Leave her in a protected hurricane hole, in the middle of paradise, and just fly in and out whenever we want to hop on board and go cruising? Umm … yes, please!
What we had heard from our dock neighbor friend about Great Harbour Cay sounded ideal. He said the place had natural 360-degree protection, with tall limestone accumulation creating a protected nook for the marina in the center with a single, narrow inlet cut through the limestone that was a big deterrent to surge and swell. That was our initial report.
Then Phillip found this fantastic article, Hurri-CAN or Hurri-CAN’T, about a live-aboard cruising couple that had ridden out Hurricane Matthew (a Cat 4 that went directly over the Berry Islands in October, 2016) at Great Harbour Cay Marina. If you’re interested in the place, it’s an enlightening read.
The one negative was that the marina does not have floating docks. They are fixed concrete docks.
But, with the significant protection from swell, we considered this a risk worth considering. (Especially considering Pensacola, which has floating docks where we kept her, but with one of the biggest deep-water bays in the southeast that would allow massive swell to accumulate if a hurricane hit there and demolish anything within a mile of shore, floating docks or not. Hurricane Ivan in 2004 was a perfect example of this).
Images like this make me nauseous but it’s just a sad reality of cruising. This is possible. Which is why we spend so much time and effort researching, planning, and preparing for hurricane season.
The bottom line is: the decision will always be tough. No place, in or even just outside the “hurricane box,” is 100% safe. And, nothing is guaranteed. Phillip and I have spoken at length about this and we believe there is a portion of it that falls to the boat owner to make the most calculated risk-averse call that can be made and prepare the boat as much as possible, then the other portion is just pure luck. There is only so much you can do, and no one can predict in advance of the season where a hurricane is going to hit. After much consideration, Phillip and I decided, before we left Pensacola to cruise the Bahamas last spring, to call the marina at Great Harbour Cay and make a reservation through hurricane season. Thankfully, once we started cruising the Bahamas last year and finally arrived in Great Harbour Cay in May, 2019 and were able to see the place for ourselves, we were only bolstered in our decision.
The day we were making our way around the northern Berries (and witnessing that crazy monstrosity that is Coco Cay for the first time!) toward the cut for Great Harbour Cay marina, I was Captain of the ship that day. It is a tight channel coming out of the Atlantic and into the harbor on the west side of the island, but it is well marked and clearly shown on the Explorer Charts, so no trouble getting in at high or moderate tide (for us, with a 6 ft draft). But, as I was nearing what the Explorer Charts were telling mewas the entrance into the interior of the island to get to the marina, I saw nothing in front of me but a big limestone wall. It was a little daunting continuing to motor, in a tight channel, toward what appeared to be just a big land mass. (You know how much I enjoy the thought of turning around in a tight channel.) Phillip and I kept looking at the charts and looking ahead for an entry, looking back at the charts, then back ahead for an entry, but for a while none appeared.
Finally—it wasn’t until we were about 50 yards from shore and started to turn to port—the entrance revealed itself as a very narrow cut (our dock neighbor was right!) into the limestone.
While I’ve guessed the width of this many times in telling friends and fellow cruisers where we kept our boat this year, having now driven it a sixth and final time leaving the Berries just a couple of weeks ago, I can safely say it’s only about 50 feet across. Very narrow. Comfortingly narrow. Blissfully narrow, when you’re planning to keep your boat there for hurricane season!
We were also surprised to see the distance (finally in person, rather than just on a map) from the entrance, dog-legged around to the actual marina. Great Harbour Cay is a phenomenal, well-protected hurricane hole. That much was clear just from our motor-in to our slip. (Which Annie docked in like a dream, I must add! : ) When we say “You’re Captain for the day” on our boat it means for whatever the day brings. Sharing all roles possible on the boat is a game-changer.)
However, what was not yet clear, was the added element we were unaware of when we made the decision to stay at Great Harbour Cay for hurricane season and booked our slip.
That was the people. Isn’t it always the people?
The staff and dockmaster at Great Harbour Cay were the je ne sais quoi that really sealed the deal for Phillip and me. While Kingsley, whom I spoke with on the phone was very reassuring and professional, and Tramenco who helped us dock up was super friendly and welcoming, when I first spoke with the dockmaster, Steven, to let him know we were planning to keep the boat there during hurricane season, he said the magic words to me that let me know our baby was going to be in good hands. The first thing Steven said:
“I’m going to need twelve dock lines.”
Twelve?!, I thought at first. Then, instantly my brain snapped. “Absolutely, Steven.” Whatever you need to keep our baby girl safe, you will damn sure get it. Twelve dock lines it shall be. And, if that seems overkill, anything that keeps Plaintiff’s Restsafe in a storm is not, and never will be. Phillip and I ordered up another six (6) brand new, 50-foot dock lines that day from Lightbourne Marina in Nassau to be shipped by boat to Great Harbour Cay the following week. You want twelve, Steven, you get twelve.
But, Steven also gave us great comfort talking about the previous hurricanes that had come straight over Great Harbour Cay: Hurricane Matthew which I mentioned in the article above in 2016, which was a Cat 4 with no damage, as well as Hurricane Andrew, which was a Cat 4 in 1992. During the entirety of those very deadly storms, no boats in Great Harbour Cay suffered any damage. The marina really has an impressive hurricane track record. But, aside from the marina itself, the people also gave Phillip and I great comfort.
Steven—he and I both enjoying the marina’s “grill night” on Friday’s (a choice of delicious barbecue pork or chicken made dock-side) and looking at Plaintiff’s Restin Slip No. 6—told me if a storm were to build and start heading their way that he would move our boat to the middle of Slip Nos. 6 and 7. He would then spider-web the lines out, attaching six of them to hold the boat secure in a normal rise and fall of the tide, and another six of them at a higher rise and fall if any of the first lines broke during a storm. Steven said he has a special “gang plank” (he calls it, jokingly) that he uses to get from the dock to a boat in the middle of two slips to secure all of the lines and make sure the boat is floating safely in the middle. I wasn’t ashamed at all. I hugged the man. I didn’t care if he wasn’t a hugger. I am, and in the moment that’s all that was called for. (And, I’ve generally found most men don’t mind a hug from a gal in a bikini ; ). Steven seemed to fall in that category as well.
Steven also asked me, which sounded more like a recommendation, about removing the bimini and dodger. “Oh, we’ll strip every last thing, don’t worry,” I told him, knowing Phillip and I planned to leave the boat completely hurricane-ready. Phillip and I had debated this in the days before we reached Great Harbour Cay, i.e., how much hurricane prep we would do before leaving her. And, I could easily say, after all of this tough decision-making, the last thing I wanted was to find myself back in Pensacola, the boat in the Bahamas with a hurricane bearing down on her, and thinking: I wish we would have removed that stack pack. Or raised those halyards to the top of the mast. Or, wrapped those lines around the binnacle. Or, taped all of the instrument covers on. Or … I could go on. That was the feeling we were trying to avoid. As I’ve mentioned, we believe hurricane survival is part tactical decision and part luck, so in the tactical-decision department, Phillip and I wanted to give our boat the best odds possible.
Thankfully, we have done the hurricane-prep drill many times (and I’ve written out our entire process here if you are interested) and, thankfully, it has only ever been a drill … knock on wood. But, because we have, we knew what all needed to be done. When it comes to preparing Plaintiff’s Rest for a hurricane, Phillip and drop everything—the sails, the stack pack, the dodger, the bimini. We bring as many halyards up the mast as possible (using long dyneema messenger lines) and wrap, or bag up and tape, the remaining lines as much as possible. We cover and tape the instruments. We cover and tape the companionway opening. We ziptie the dodger and bimini frame secure. Feel free to read the article above for more hurricane prep tips. We’re pretty fanatic about it. And, for good reason. Have you seen our gorgeous boat! : )
Photos from our hurricane prep in Great Harbour Cay in May, 2019:
I assured Steven our boat would be completely stripped, 100% hurricane ready, which seemed to give him comfort as well. I could imagine being a dockmaster and dealing with a boat left behind that is not hurricane ready must cause him a great deal of stress as it would leave him worrying not only about the condition of the non-prepped boat, but also its then-ability to potentially cause damage to nearby fully-prepped boats. I do not envy any dockmaster their job when a storm is coming. This brief conversation with Steven gave me a fascinating glimpse into the stressors of his position and I was impressed with everything he has to handle in that situation.
So, Great Harbour Cay. We cannot recommend it highly enough as a secure, reliable hurricane hole in the Bahamas. It is also a very welcoming little island with plenty to do: a handful of fun little bars and restaurants, plenty of diving and snorkeling, a great shelling beach on the north shore, a spooky “shark river,” and a great little grocery. Not to mention the marina is very clean with decent wifi, laundry, and shuttle service when available. GHC has lots to offer for a week stay.
But, now that you know the decision process and everything Phillip and I went through to try and keep our boat secure during hurricane season this year, you now also know the frightening reality (which we decided not to share publicly) of where she was when Hurricane Dorian hit. In September, 2019, Phillip and I could only watch and wish the staff at Great Harbour Cay Marina and our baby girl the best as that monstrous, slow-moving, massive Cat 5 was headed straight for the northern Berry Islands, Bahamas.
Next up on the blog, we will share Plaintiff’s Rest’s experience when Hurricane Dorian hit. It’s one helluva tale. Hurricanes … uggh. I’m so glad the 2019 season is over!
I would have never thought I would use the word “inundated” when describing the Berry Islands, but unfortunately, one of them is. Have any of you seen Coco Cay? Formerly Little Stirrup Island, the island was purchased by Carnival Cruise Lines and turned into just that: a carnival.
We’ll get there.
Thankfully, many of the other islands of the Berries remain untouched and exude the quiet, serene calm that Phillip and I love about the Berry Islands. The one we stopped at first after leaving Warderick Wells Cay on a nice overnight run to the Berries was just that: quiet and picture-perfect Little Harbour Cay. Proof, we had the place ALL to ourselves:
And, it was a place we had never heard of before and likely never would have stopped at had it not been so heartily recommended by a fellow cruising friend (shout-out to Pensacola sailor, BaBaLu!).
That is one of the very cool things about meeting new cruisers: they often help you find new tucked-away little anchorages you might have never found otherwise. So, before I tell you about Little Harbour Cay, let me tell you a little about the sailor who recommended the place to us: Captain Bob Fleege, better known to Pensacola locals as “BaBaLu.” (Seriously, you say that name in cruising circles around here and everyone knows who you’re talking about.) BaBaLu sails on an exquisite Catalina 34, s/v Partager (which means “to share” in French and boy does he!). And, just like the French, he kisses, too!
This is Bob greeting me in front of his boat at the shipyard. While we knew BaBaLu in passing (as the Pensacola cruising community is delightfully small), we got to know him much better (as you always do) when we were both on the hard in the Pensacola Shipyard back in 2016 when Phillip and I spent a grueling three months re-building our rotten mast stringers and changing our old rod rigging to wire. Whew, that was some serious time on the hill! Bob was hauled out, too, replacing his auto-pilot and some electronics and he was gracious enough to let me film a tour of his exquisite Catalina 34 while we were there. BaBaLu’s was Boat Tour No. 2 at HaveWind!
Bob was cheering there after having just crawled out of this hole … if you can believe it.
Believe it …
BaBaLu also appeared in our Second Annual Boozer Cruiser when we picked him up aboard s/v Partager to dinghy him around for a night of boat-to-boat, boozing fun! Bob had just come out to drop the hook for the night—with no idea that we had a Progressive Boozer Cruiser, costume-required, evening at the anchorage planned. But, that didn’t deter him one bit. As a cruiser, Bob is always prepared. (I couldn’t NOT share this clip with you : ). According to Phillip, the First Rule of Cruising is …
Good times! Aside from seeing him often in Pensacola out at Ft. McRee, Red Fish, and Pirate’s Cove, we’ve met up with BaBaLu down in Key West in 2014, as well, when he was there when he was down for his annual cruise staying at A&B Marina.
Bob sails his Catalina down the west coast of Florida to Cuba, Mexico, and often the Bahamas every year. So, he has a lot of great recommendations for anchorages, marinas, restaurants, and (his favorite) tiki bars along those parts. Following and texting us via our Delorme last year, when BaBaLu saw that we were leaving the Exumas to head back to the Berry Islands, he told us we had (“simply had!”) to stop at Little Harbour Cay, drop the hook (“for the day at least!”), and dinghy up the inlet to Aunt Flo’s Conch Bar for “the best cracked conch in the Bahamas!” That’s a pretty bold statement. One Phillip does not take lightly. Or, at face value. We decided we needed to verify Bob’s promise for ourselves. For … scientific accuracy, not because we love cracked conch.
Little Harbour Cay is one of the long narrow islands in the Berries between Chub Cay to the south and Great Harbour Cay to the north.
Phillip and I would likely not have stopped there if it hadn’t been for Bob’s recommendation because we didn’t know there was an anchorage there and we had no idea there was a restaurant. But, after a nice, peaceful overnight from the Exumas across the Tongue of the Ocean, we meandered in to Little Harbour Cay and were thrilled to find this little gem.