Fri-Sat 16-17 Dec, passage to Colombia, days 7-8: As per yesterday’s blog, we start Friday at midnight ghosting along at 5-7 kts in 6-8kts of wind with both sails wrenched hard-in, managing 33degree to apparent wind and just, only just, making our desired course for us to transit the gap between British Caicos and Bahamian Mayaguana island.
The night breeze is wonderfully cooling after our hot day, the moon is up, and stars alight the sky. And Cloudy is ghosting along silently but impressively. When sailing in conditions like this, all that arduous boat work and preparation evaporates into a faint memory … for now!
At breakfast time, in front of us it’s Land Ahoy! (first land since Sunday) and behind us on the AIS, we see the ship “Amazon Nurberg” approaching slowly. And we joke it must be more of Oana’s deliveries! Or “I wonder if Amazon Prime gets you a real ship shipping, like this?” And as if there is competition out here, the next AIS ship we see is named Costco!
Thus far, the dinghy is stowed upside-down, strapped onto the foredeck. This is the safest place for it. If there is a weather risk (storm) that could get it pooped (flooded) by a wave if we had left it on its davits. Now out of storm risk zone and into the trades, I want to find a calm place to briefly stop and put it back on the davits. Because our last leg, across the Caribbean Sea to Columbia, will be high-wind beam-reach sailing in short and steep waves. So we will be getting a lot of water over the foredeck, and not just spray. With our experience, no matter how well strapped down, the dinghy always ends up moving on the deck in such conditions. Not good.
So as a stopping point, we choose Mayaguana island. On its eastern end there is a coral enclosure with a narrow entrance showing water depths of 4-5m. We are not really supposed to anchor in territorial waters without checking in, but in Bahamas it’s unlikely authorities will notice, let alone do anything about it.
So at 11:45 sails are furled away and we motor carefully through the 300ft (90m) wide gap in the outer coral, and a little onwards into the shallow lagoon with classic Bahaman turquoise water, and anchor. It was a bit choppier in the lagoon than I expected, but I didn’t care, I was in for a swim faster than you can say “Jack Russel”.
As for Ray Russel, he thought the current a bit strong, and declined going for a dip. I suspect he just wanted to see if sharks would get me first!
Sooo nice to be swimming in the crystal-clear refreshing water. First swim of the season. No sharks, but there were plenty of rays on the sandy bottom (and the other Ray still on deck 😊).
In about 1 hour we had the dinghy nicely back on the davits yielding a clear foredeck again. Then, after Volvo water and oil checks, we were off again, just 1 hour later, continuing our gentle sail. And even gentler now we are among the islands, where the Atlantic swell doesn’t reach.
The highlight of the evening occurred at dust. Ray nearly jumped out of his seat at the delight of spotting a Starlink rocket launch from Cape Canaveral. Even with the launch pad 500 nm to our west we could still see the whole trajectory from launch right to the point where it went into space and the solid rocket boosters flipped off, did a reentry burn ready to land back on the drone ship somewhere to the north, which we must have come close to passing in the last 24hrs. It would have been cool see the rocket boosters land back on the ship. Anyway, an amazing sight and experience to watch that for real. And one that made Ray giddy with delight. I think he’s a bit of a space buff at heart!
16th night was very calm. With the true wind now aft of the beam we were struggling to keep 5 kts at times. We gracefully drifted passed the west side of Great and Little Iguana Islands (Bahamas) and into the Windward Passage by midday. Pretty close to the ETA we’ve judged even several days ago.
7am Saturday 17th marks 1 full week at sea during which we covered 1200nm. That alone isn’t extraordinary. But what is amazing is our sailing trajectory has almost been dead straight during that week and, most importantly, the exact direction we need to go. Not often you manage that in the Atlantic in winter. Lucky us.
Finally, at midday we lost our fight to keep Cloudy sailing. Ray had been trimming sails and boat heading for several hours, keeping her moving. But now only 5-6 kts of wind on our port quarter. Not enough. Such light conditions are in fact most unusual for this Windward Passage between Haiti and Cuba – which is known for its high winds, as was the case when we passed through it in 2020 on passage Bahamas to Jamaica.
It’s a bit odd as we transit through here. You see the mountains of Eastern Cuba and faintly the land of western Haiti. Two very different yet equally screwed-up countries. One by communism and the other by poverty, corruption and natural disasters. Just how is that possible in modern times in the western world? Especially so close to USA.
One thing of note, we always know when we are near to Haiti just by the shear amount of plastic floating in the water. It’s the same every time we pass near to it. It is also the one Caribbean country we have absolutely no desire to visit. Sorry, but the stories we hear tell us it’s just not worth it.
And talking of USA, they do have a definite presence in this area. In the morning we were buzzed by a Blackhawk USCG helicopter and in the afternoon we spotted a large USCG vessel plus the huge US hospital ship, USNSS Comfort. And of course, Guantanamo Bay military base is very near, in SE Cuba.
Just before sunset, which was yet another full red ball dipping into the sea, we experience a close encounter with a whale. I spotted a spout 1/2 mile away and we motored towards it. Looked like a small humpback was just basking on the surface. It’s not until Cloudy has the whale right along side her that it arches its back, then tail in the air and gracefully submerges. Lovely to have such a close encounter. Normally the best view we get is breath spouts and distance view of a whale. We stick around for a while watching several others, or at least their spouts, before setting on our way again.
Late evening, we are motoring up to the last piece of a Haiti. (The last bit we have to pass). It’s notable there are almost zero lights on this part of Haiti and certainly no dull looms/glow of any lit-up settlement. But for sure there is population there by evidence of a strong wood smoke aroma drifting out to sea. Two factors that indicate this is one of the world’s poorest countries.
So, that’s us through the Antilles archipelago and back out to sea again. This time the Caribbean Sea. And we brace ourselves for the very strong easterly trade winds that blast from the east and accelerate along the northern South American coast. Forecast for this final leg to Colombia is anywhere between 20-40kts. We are ready with all hatches sealed and locked, vent cowls reversed and a likely sail plan of heavily reefed mainsail and cutter. No genoa. No spinnaker!
Wish us luck