Nov 26, 2013 - Morehead City to Palm Coast

 Log of the Salty Turtle: October 24^th thru November 26, 2013

• 10/24/2013 Morehead City to Mile Hammock's Bay, NC 37nm
• 10/25/2013 Mile Hammock's Bay to Wrightsville Beach, NC 35nm
• 10/26/2013 Wrightsville Beach to Southport, NC 23nm
• 10/28/2013 Southport to Doster's Loop (Waccamaw River, SC) 64nm
• 10/29/2013 Doster's Loop to Butler Island, SC 19nm
• 10/30/2013 Butler Island to Dewees / Long Ck, SC 52nm
• 10/31/2013 Long Ck to Beaufort, SC 72nm
• 11/3/2012 Beaufort to Herb River, GA 42nm
• 11/4/2013 Herb River to Wahoo River, GA 42nm
• 11/5/2013 Wahoo River to Frederica River, GA 37nm
• 11/6/2013 Frederica River to Bell River (off Fernandian, FL) 43nm
• 11/7/2013 Bell River to Fernandian Harbor Marina, FL 1nm
• 11/9/2013 Fernandian Harbor Marina to Pine Island, FL 43nm
• 11/10/2013 Pine Island to St. Augustine Mooring Field, FL 12 nm
• 11/12/2013 St. Augustine, to Palm Coast Marina, FL 22nm

            Total Miles To Date: 537nm

 

“Yacht Design is rather like making love to a woman. The approach is completely empirical. In the end, the male, even though he might be successful, usually had no idea how and why he had succeeded.”

Prof. E. J. Richards

“Music washes from the soul the dust of everyday life.” 

 Berthold Auerbach

Moon Set At Dawn

 

“Stroke it..Ride It...Pound It” and Wait and Wait Some More:

The trip down the ICW, to me, is always a joy and an adventure in it's own right especially with good crew like Paul and Stacy Brannon aboard – boat people to core and enjoying every minute on the water. The thing about the ICW is there is no telling what will be around the next bend.

Mile Hammock's Bay (actually a part of the Marine Corp Base at Camp LeJeune) has always been a source of entertainment. This year was no exception. Just as we got the anchor down and our traditional anchors' down drinks in hand we heard the approach of a couple of big Sea Stallion helicopters flying in low from the West. They began a slow circle of the Bay, stirring the waters with their down drafts and sending up clouds of dust from the land. Then the first Stallion in line slowed in flight and hovered with it's rotors just visible above the tree line next to the anchorage. Then the rhythmic beat of the engines completely changed to a throaty roar of engines under full power and obvious strain. The chopper lifted above the tree line and we could see what looked like an I-beam slung under it's belly. The helicopters were doing heavy lift drills and we were in for a show. Each chopper in turn would circle the Bay a couple of times, hover over the lift site, and discharge or pickup it's “cargo.”

They did this until just about dark. We enjoyed sundowner's, hors d'oeuvre, a free show...and a bit of noise. 

Sea Stallion Heavy Lift

  Turtle and company left next morning bright and early and were at anchor in Banks Channel off Wrightsville Beach in time for lunch ashore and to stock up on Robert's Grocery's famous chicken salad and pimento cheese. Our plan was to leave at first light the next morning for Southport and be tied up well before noon. Our intent was to spend a couple of days there just enjoying the town before continuing on our journey South. The “early” part was not to be.

Stroke it, Ride it, Pound it

We arose as planed around 6:30, made coffee, cranked the engines, and headed on deck. We were greeted to the splash of 1500 swimmers in flights of around 300 all “hell bent for election” to round the turning mark just to our South and then down channel toward the ICW. Turned out it was a Mini-Iron Man and both exits to the anchorage were blocked. We had lost our opportunity to leave for at least the next 2 hours...but man what a show. I used to work corners as part of the safety crew in SSCA Sports Car Races but this is the first time I ever saw “corner workers” on paddle boards one complete with his own “rescue dog” - a big yellow labrador apparently having the time of his life. Paul told me the Iron Man motto was “Stroke it, Ride it, Pound it”...has sort of has a ring to it doesn't it. We made Southport by 2:00 AM after enjoying our second surprise in two days.

Safety Workers

You see what I mean about the ICW? Some people would see the chopper noise as an irritating pain in the butt or would go ballistic over the “un-called for delay” at Wrightsville Beach. Me, I see entertainment, a chance to enjoy a second cup of coffee, and the addition of a little spice to our journey. The ICW can be heaven or hell. The choice is yours.

Pigs Can Surf:

The old Salty Turtle is not a fast boat. She lumbers along at a steady 7 knots and doesn't get in a hurry to do anything. I always said that if the Turtle ever hit 12 knots she have to have fallen over a water fall and a steep one at that. In short the old girl is built of comfort and a bit of a “pig” in the speed department...but she was to prove me wrong in the Sounds of Georgia.

We lumbered our way South thru the always beautiful Waccamaw – in Spring with it's coat of new life green and fall with the orange glow of warmth from the low sun on the brown of the cypress. It is beautiful and there is a settling peace about the place. South to our favorite anchorage in Dewees / Long Creeks. With it's full marshes and hint of Charlestown on the horizon. South thru the skinny ever changing waters of the Low Country and on to Beaufort, SC where we took a break and enjoyed the hospitality of the town. South to Herb River near Thunderbolt, Georgia where the ICW starts it's winding road thru the Sounds. 

Charleston Harbor

  Georgia is notorious for it's skinny water but in truth Georgia is easy – you just play their 8' tides. And you only have to play the tides in 3 places: Hells Gate just South of Isle of Hope, Little Mud River North of St. Simons Island, and Jeckyll Island and Sound. The rest is deep. The only problem this year was weather and an abundance of wind. It was in Jeckyll Sound that the Turtle showed me a thing or two.

We anchored along with half a dozen other boats in the Fredrecia River off St.Simon's Island and rode out a blow of 25 to 30 knots over night. The weather looked iffy but the forecast was for improving conditions with NE winds below 15k. Our next stop was to be Fernandian Beach, FL, a trip of just over 40 miles, but to get there the ICW passes just to the West side of Jeckyll Island and East into the inlet where you round Red 32 and turn almost 180 degrees back West into Jeckyll Sound and the shelter of Cumberland Island. Gigi polled the crew and we decided to go for it. With a rising tide and wind and current in the same direction at the notorious R32 it should not be too bad. Yea Right. 

 

The 8' tide was almost full when we passed thru the ICW behind Jeckyll and eased out into the inlet and the 2 mile journey to R32. The inlet quickly turned into a bash with 5 foot seas with an occasional 6 footer's on the nose. Not unsafe but a bit more than we bargained for. At R32, we waited for an opening in the waves, put the helm hard over and turned our stern to the seas for our run back inshore. Things went from a “bash” to “peace” in a matter of seconds. It was then that this old, lumbering, pig of boat surprised me (I think everyone). We went from a 5 knot bash to a steady 8 knots...then her stern would rise to an on coming wave and she would surf at 12 knots down the face, riding like some ancient pig on a surfboard for about 100 yards until the sea slid under her and then she would slow to 8 and rise to the next and again build until she was surfing at 12 and start the process all over again. We surfed our ass off all the way in behind Cumberland Island. So you see, at that point I knew “Pigs” can surf.

Paul & Stacy

We anchored in Bell River, a well protected anchorage, about a half mile from the dingy dock in Fernandina. The next morning we moved Salty Turtle to Fernandina Harbor Marina to make it easier for Paul and Stacy jump ship. The next morning we each in our own way cruised the town and rendezvoused at the Palace Saloon, the oldest Saloon in Florida, and took what has become “the” traditional photo. By 4:00 in afternoon Paul and Stacy, had packed their stuff in a rental car and headed back home to take care of my Aunt and Uncle in Athen, Georgia. I know for a fact their car had at least one more thing than they had when they signed on as crew. They left with a car full of “dreams.” Dreams of cruising again in their own boat.

Palace Saloon

How Not To Take a Mooring Vol. 2:

After the winds died down (winds again – winds seem to define this trip), we headed for Pine Island 112 miles above St. Augustine, FL. We were thru the Bridge of Lions the following day around 10ish and headed for our assigned mooring ball near the back of the field absolutely determine not to make as spectacular a show of our selves as we did the previous year (if you remember, last year we managed to get the ball stuck on our shaft struts and actually moor backward – hard to do but we did it just the same).

We cautiously approached the ball (Gigi put us right on it). I hooked the short pennant that barely reached the cleat and hauled it over the rail and slipped the eye around one horn of the cleat. Right here is where things started to slip out of our grasp....and turn a bit ugly.

I was focused on the ball and had already fed a line from the bow thru the eye in the pennant when the wake from a sportfish bounced the shit out of the Turtle, ripped out our starboard bow cleat and left it dandling like an errant earring from the bow. The Turtle was washed backwards at a good clip and I snatched the cleat and dropped the pennant before it sucked both me and that damn cleat overboard. We regrouped and tried again..but were rattled by now and each pass was a near miss. By this time 3 dingies from other boats had come to our rescue, with their help, the Turtle was soon secured to a mooring pennant on the port cleat. After a rum, I put the shit back together and added the starboard mooring line.

What happened? A number of things. First, the pennants are quite short and short pennants are always a pain in the tail. Second, the perfect timing of that damn sportfish and his significant wake. Third, Vic getting his come-up-ins for thinking again. All the boats I've ever been on the cleats were backed from hell and gone. To pull them out you literally have to pull the bow off. The cleats on the Turtle are designed to pull thru a hole in the center of the cleat and held on with wood screws– strong as all get out used as directed, weak and worthless if you pull in the opposite direction as I did. Old Vic did a permanent fix in Palm Coast a few days later with epoxy, wood plugs, and 5200 calk/adhesive.

I learned a valuable life lesson. I don't think St. Augustine Mooring Field likes us...and a little about our cleats.

To Give a Shit...or That Bloody Head:

We arrived at Palm Coast Marina for a planed stay of a week...and are still here two weeks later. We do love it here but, as usual, have stayed well beyond our planned stop over and but don't know why but it always seems to work out that way. Tom and Olga, Gigi's cousin and wife, live here and Bill another of her cousins lives in Orlando a couple of hours drive away so we do Thanksgiving while we are here and visit back and forth. It is a great spot to replenish supplies and fix what we have broke to this point.

The list: Fix a coolant leak on both engines, replace the injector pipe seals on the starboard engine (minor but needed doing), rebuild the horn that quit on the way down, and fix that damn bow cleat. We had all that done and our visiting finished by the first weekend and we were on schedule to leave Monday (we hate traveling on the weekend in FL. It is a zoo). Monday came around on the jukebox and it was blowing a gale and raining in buckets we stayed. It was about then that the head reared its... ugly head. It had been running slower and slower since we left Morehead. I knew what it was and dreaded the thought. It had to be calcification in the pipes from the head thru the ParaSand (small waste treatment plant) to the overboard thru hull fitting. I don't so much mind wallowing in my on poop but dealing with head plumbing is brutal.

That Bloody Head

Better to do it here since we have a dock and access to transportation. Gigi ordered new hose, a Y-valve, and when the parts arrived late Wednesday I tore the head system down Thursday morning. It took half a day of getting my language right and a pure bloody struggle (if you know me you can take that bloody part literally). There was no way to get to most of the plumbing without pulling the head. Those of you that know what working with PVC chemical, odor free hose is like will understand, the language and blood bath (mine) that followed. The next day I put it back together with even more blood and gnashing of teeth.

The head won every battle but I, Old Vic, won the war. I have not been that sore and beat up in a long long time, but the good news is we can “give a shit again” and man does it flow (not us the head).

 

The plan was to leave Monday the 25^th and be in Vero for Thanksgiving but a cold front is moving thru (again) and we will stay in Palm Coast until probably Thanksgiving morning or break a hard fast rule and leave Friday after Thanksgiving and travel on the weekend (god forbid).

Fairwinds & Rum Drinks,

Vic

October 12, 2013: There's a Nip In the Air

October 12, 2013: There's A Nip In The Air
 

“The way I see it, you got two choices. You either gotta get busy livin'...or busy dyin'.”

Frank Darabout

“Fun is about as good a habit as there is.”

Jimmy Buffett

There's A Nip In the Air:

There's a nip in the air and I'm considering “long pants” for the first time since last November (god forbid). Salty Turtle is provisioned, as readied as we can make her, and straining at her lines as if to say “turn'em over, run'em up, and lets's go”...go South (for swimsuit weather – have I mentioned I don't like cold weather). We are ready, the boat is ready, but it is not quite time yet. There is one more thing to do – a wedding. 

Solar Panels

It has been a busy and expensive summer. We have rebuilt the high pressure pumps and injectors on both main engines...and the generator. Rebuilt the rams on the stabilizers. Added 1000 watts of solar power and installed a battery monitor. Although I'll admit having Shay Glass as a friend and helper made this job less painful. The Turtle now sports a brand new Force 10, 3 burner propane, cook stove with custom outside cabinet to house the propane – it is a beaut, looks like it grew there. The old electric stove will never ever ruin a meal of mine again – actually considered selling it but didn't want anyone to go thru what the beast did to our food... besides I got too much pleasure out of throwing the bastard in the dumpster. 

New Propane Storage

Our annual haul out at Bock Marine brought one surprise, as I took apart the second seacock to clean and grease it fell apart in my hands – not good, as a matter-of-fact, quite bad. A failed seacock under way could ruin your whole day..and then some. With the help of Dale and Kenny at Bock Marine we replaced every seacock below the water line...all 12. Don't ask how much that cost. While I worked on the seacocks Gigi waxed the topsides and made the Turtle all beautiful. 

Madog..wet

Madog..dry

And of course, between projects and doctors visits, we managed to see our grandchildren and their parents (always good). The bad part of cruising is the lack of time to visit our kids so the few visits we get are even more precious. I can't wait to take Malo “Madog” Copelan, Noel's son, and Gigi's “Triplets” snorkeling in the Bahamas or just for a splash on the beach at Twin Cays. I can close my eyes and see them running that curve of pure white sand, little naked “butts” shining in the sun, splashing gin clear water everywhere, and looking for treasures with their sponge like minds and bodies soaking up all that is above and below the surface. It's a dream but man has to have his dreams doesn't he?    

By the end of next week Oconee will be winterized and put to bed for her winter's sleep. Our last emotion filled visits with friends will be behind us and we will be ready...almost, that is. My cousin, Chris Dunn's son Christopher is to be married in Columbus, Ga on the 19^th and we are going. It looks like a great party with a mini-family reunion thrown in for good measure. We will spend the night with my Cousin Stacy Brannon and her husband Paul in Athen on the 20^th and drag them back with us to Morehead City where they will join the crew of the Salty Turtle for the first leg of her trip South. We hope to head out on or about October 23. I can't wait to be moving again.

Fairwinds and Rum Drinks,

Vic C.

2013-05-31 Georgetown to Palm Coast, Florida

April 29, 2013 – 5/31/2013: Georgetown, Exuma to Palm Coast, Florida

04/29/2013: Georgetown to Black Point Settlement 54 nm

04/30/2013: Black Point to Big Majors Spot 9 nm

05/01/2013: Big Majors to Nassau Harbor Club, Nassau 74 nm

05/8-9/2013: Nassau Harbor Club to Vero Beach, FL 237 nm

05/15/2013: Vero Beach to Titusville, FL 65 nm

05/16/2013: Titusville to Palm Coast, FL 66 nm

Total Miles to Date: 2002 nm

Red Stripe

“The Sea finds out everything you did wrong..or did not do.” - FRANCIS STOKES

“There must be more to sailing than the mere setting out to sail from A to B via C. There must be exploration, not only of new areas of the ocean, but of new parts of yourself.” - TRISTAN JONES

Palm Coast Marina

Boy on a Bollard: National Family Island Regatta, Georgetown – April 26 thru 30, 2013

Gigi's cousin Tom Cook joined us in Georgetown for National Family Island Regatta. Tom's wife Olga is in Russia helping her mom and Tom signed on as crew for the trip back to the states. We met him at Peace and Plenty's Bar (of course). Peace and Plenty's bar is the home of the Doc Lerman – The Doctor of Libation (read bartender). The Doc makes the best drinks in the Bahamas (and that's saying something) and if he likes you he will introduce you to some his “regulars.” I've spent many an interesting day in discussion some of Doc's friends. This year Gigi and I met John Sanders, the head of the Bahamian Post Office and his best buddy Vince (for the life of me I can't remember his name) who was second in charge of the Power and Electric Service for the Islands. Both x-racers and full time racing fans. The stories they told... .

To us National Family Island Regatta starts when the boats arrive as deck cargo on inter-island ships. Gigi and I make a point of being there for the unloading. The slings used to unload the boats are enough to stop the heart of most OSHA inspectors here in the States. The unloading and re-rigging is a show in its self. 

 

I was doing my usual wandering around taking pictures when I noticed a boy of about 11 or 12 sitting on a yellow bollard intently watching the boats as they came off the ship and their masts stepped. After taking a couple of photos I wandered up to the boy, introduced myself, and struck up a conversation.

William, that was his name, was the skipper of the brand spanking new E Class sloop, “One Bahama” in the Juniors Regatta. William is a bright young man. As each boat was unloaded he told me about her good and bad points and her skipper's “abilities.” He proudly told me he had finished second in the last regatta and he was going to “reach” first this year. When Gigi, Tom and I left William was still quietly sitting on his yellow bollard watching the boats lowered into the water. When we dropped by the dock a few hours later William was still there as intent on his boats as ever. 

William

 

“One Bahamas” was built and sponsored by Sir Durwood Knowles, the first Bahamian to win a Olympic Gold Medal for sailing. Sir Durwood has spent his life encouraging young Bahamians to sail and to carry on the Bahamian boat building traditions. Sir Durwood would be happy and proud to know that those traditions were secure in the hands of William of the yellow bollard...and other like him.  

One Bahamas

 

Oh! The Racing was spectacular this year. Red Stripe out Black Point and Tida Wave out of Staniel Cay were tied for first going into final race with Running Tide from Long Island a distant second.

All three boats got excellent starts with the edge going to Red Stripe. At the first windward mark it was Red Stripe by just feet followed by Tida Wave...but Tida had to tack to make the mark. Which should have been no problem and kept her in second except.... Lady Maril another Staniel Cay boat just plain screwed up and held on trying to ooch their way around the mark. Lady M's bow man failed to tell the skipper that Tida was dead in from of them. Had it not been for our friend Smashie Furgerson who told the helmsman to tack just in the nick of time she would have center punched Tida and sunk her. As it was she did tack just in time to hit Tida a glancing blow and take both boats totally out of the race and the series. Red Stripe sailed a safe race and finished first for the race and the series. 

 

If would have been a very different race if Lady Maril had not taken Tida Wave out of the picture. Red Stripe would probably have still won but man it would have been fun to watch. I expect Staniel Cay is a very very small island at the moment especially since the skipper of Tida taught the skipper of Lady Maril to sail.

When Salty Turtle reached Black Point a few days later the whole island was just sobering up. 

Red Stripe Head For Home and First Place

Nassau to Vero Beach - Vic Amazes Himself

At 7:00 AM on the 8^th of May Salty Turtle dropped her lines at Nassau Harbor Club cruised slowly under the twin highrise bridges that connect Nassau proper and Paradise Island. We were headed for sea and the USA. Nassau harbor is a busy place. This day was no exception. At the request of Nassau Harbor Control the Turtle and half dozen other boats held in place for about 30 minutes until a cruise ship docked. Then boogied out the harbor entrance before a second cruise ship came in. Like I said, Nassau harbor can be a busy place. 

Nassau Harbor

 

It was a beautiful day with clear sky and a 8 to 10 knots of South East wind – just perfect for a crossing. We ran at bout 7 knots down the Northwest Channel and Tongue of the Ocean fishing for Mahi but not catching. And hit the banks at Northwest Channel Light (that doesn't exist anymore. Only a short stub sticks above water) and headed across the banks. The SE wind went flat by the time we dropped off the edge of the earth into the Atlantic at Hens-In-Chickens / Great Isaac just N of Bimini at around 11:00 PM.

Northwest Channel "Stub"

The winds according to Chris and all other weather web sites were suppose to do just that - go light an variable with flat seas and 5' swells for the next 3 days. But..when we hit the Gulf Stream the wind went NW at 15 and 3 - 4' chop in our face and square seas. Off Lauderdale I ran the boat in shore about 2 miles off the beach in hopes it would ease the chop. It did but it was still uncomfortable...and stabilizers don't do much for head seas....shit! The Turtle and her crew were tied to one of Vero Beach's mooring balls by 2:00 PM on the 9^th. It was not the worst crossing I've ever had but it was not fun and my old ass was whooped. 

Little Green Heron

 

Now the rest of the story...

Some times I amaze even me with my ability to screw up. About mid-way across the banks it was time to cook supper and switch from Port to Starboard fuel tanks (the generator only works off starboard tank). Salty Turtle had about 40 gallons of fuel left and port tank and about 190 in starboard – more than enough in starboard tank to finish the run to Vero Beach.

We cooked and ate a supper that could not be beat and I went back down to shut the fuel supply off from the generator so that I can turn the fuel polishing system on and continue to run on Starboard fuel tank (the polisher uses part of the plumbing for the generator and both can't be run at the same time). I always run the polisher when underway and polish the tank we are running on, in this case Starboard tank. Well....Old Vic accidentally turned the "return to aft tank valve" open...and we kept on keeping on...for a while at least (this little detail will become important and apparent later in the tale).

Six hours later Gigi and Tom were on watch, Vic was asleep, and we were about 20 miles out into the Atlantic when the port engine shutdown followed shortly thereafter by the starboard engine. I was awake and in the engine room as instantly as an old fart can move. It took a few minutes to shake the “sleepy fuzzy” out of my brain and figure out we had run out of fuel in the Starboard tank. Just where the hell did that 175 gallons of diesel fuel go? We could not have burned that much in 6 hours...more like 24 gallons? No time to think about that now. I switched to port and bled both engines. This little operation took a lot longer than it takes to write this and we positively will not talk about the “diesel geyser” I produced when I pressurized the fuel filters with the electric lift pump and took my first ever diesel shower. Gigi fired both engines and after a few tense moments they cranked and we were on our way again.

That was the good news. The bad news was we did not have enough fuel in Port tank to reach Ft. Pierce.

Nassau West Entrance Light

After a few minutes to clear my fuel fumed soaked head and a large cup of coffee I figured out the fuel had to be in the aft tank, went back to the engine room, and yep! the handle on the aft tank return line was open. So in theory at least, all 175 gallons that had been in Starboard was now in the Aft tank put there by the fuel polishing system. We ran on Port until dawn. Then shut down both engines, shifted the polishing pump to deliver fuel from aft to port tank to make sure there was no air in the fuel line (and the fuel was in fact there) and then re-cranked on Aft. We were back in business and with enough fuel to reach Ft Pierce. Yee!! Ha!!

Like I said, sometimes I amaze even me at my ability to do something really dumb. Tom jumped ship in Vero (can't figure out why) and Gigi and I continued on to Palm Coast alone. We anchored off Titusville on the way and were lucky enough to have the anchor down and a rum and tonic in hand in time to see an Atlas V launch...pretty cool.

We are currently tied up in Palm Coast Marina waiting for the diesel shop in Dayton to rebuild the generator and port engine high pressure fuel pumps. With luck we will be back under way by the end of the week. North Carolina here we come...baring something else breaking, of course. 

John Watling Rum

Fairwinds and Rum Drinks,

Vic Copelan

PS – Thanks Tom for the help and for your excellent dingy driving. It sure made taking photos easier.

Bedlam...Bahamian Style: 4/17/3013

April 7, 2013 to April 18, 2013: Black Point to Georgetown, Exuma

 

4/08/2013 Pipe Creek to Staniel Cay / Black Point Settlement 16 nm

4/09/2013 Black Point to Little Farmers (Western Bay) 11 nm

4/11/2013 Western Bay to Black Point 11 nm

4/15/2013 Black Point to Georgetown 54 nm

Total Miles to Date: 1493 nm

Little Farmer's All Age School

 

“The trickiest part of any voyage or cruise may turn out to be the short leg between any harbor entrance and dock, both on the way in and the way out.” Carleton Mitchell

“In certain places, at certain hours, gazing at the sea is dangerous. It is what looking at a woman sometimes is.” Victor Hugo

 

Kevin Rolle:

The first year Gigi and cruised the Exumas was 5 years ago..can't be that long ago, but it was. We were knee deep in 4 weeks worth of laundry. The guide books said the only place really to do laundry in the upper Exumas was Ida's Rockside Laundry in Black Point Settlement.

We anchored in the bay off Black Point and headed for the dingy dock with a boat full to running over with dirty clothes. Lugging three bags of laundry and sundries we headed down the dock and up to the street. Gigi and I each had a bag in our outboard hands plus the huge LL Bean bag strung between with Gigi on one handle and me on the other.

We had just reached the street when the Black Point Police car (ain't but one) pulled up beside us and stopped. Gigi looked at me and I looked at her with that question of a look that says, “What have we done..and we just got here too?” look on our collective faces. The Officer rolled down the window, peered out with his big Bahamian smile and said, “You folks look like you need a ride to Ida's. Hop in.” And that is how we met Kevin Rolle and he has been a friend ever since. We fell in love with the Black Point community at that instant and have been hooked on its friendly helpful people ever since.

Friday, two weeks ago, we were at anchor in Pipe Creek when Kevin came by in the police boat out for a day of fun with his sons. We waved. Kevin flashed us one of his big Bahamian smiles, waved back, and headed off toward Compass Cay. We didn't know it at the time, but that was the last we would see of our friend Kevin on this earth. Kevin was to die saturday night of a pulmonary aneurism. He was flown to Nassau but did not survive. Kevin was just 46 years old. He left behind a wife and family and three communities in shock (Black Point Settlement, his brother's in arm in the Bahamian Police Force, and us Cruisers). He will be buried with full military honors in Nassau this Friday as is only fitting.

Kevin was more that just a policeman and preacher. He was the heart of his community. He was the best ambassador Black Point could have chosen. And he was our friend...and in truth, a friend to countless other as well.

Bedlam..Bahamian Style:

Black Point Settlement is home of some of the best “C-Class” Bahamian Sloops ever built like “Smashie” and “Seahorse” built by Van Fergersion and his son Bo. In the off season or when they are built or repaired they sit high on a sloping, iron rock, bank in back of the All Age School known as “da yard.” Every since I have been coming to Black Point Settlement I've wondered just how in the hell do they get a fixed keel, one ton boat from the iron rock to water with no mechanical help or conveyance without destroying it. I have always admired and been amazed by the Bahamian approach to projects like this. This year I found out how it was done and actually got to help launch “Seahorse” (something I can now check off my “bucket list).

First, timing. “Tings” don't happen at an appointed time here. They just happen when “day” happen. People start showing up as if the time was set by some internal Bahamian clock – Seahorse's launch was no exception. I knew that much at least so I watched from the Turtle until people started to show and then jumped in the dink and headed for shore. No one was in charge or gave orders. Men just assemble on both sides of Seahorse grabbed “holt” and then bedlam broke out.

Everyone shouting at the top of their lungs, everyone in charge, and everyone with conflicting orders. “Pulleft! Pullrite! Slidtinga! Pickdastarn! Fardroll! Ramovedabord! Straitendatinga! Diswaymon! Disway! Slakline! Slakline!” It was a den of shouting, pulling, tugging, and all in opposing directions, plywood being slid under the keel, water pipe rollers between the keel and plywood, and slowly the boat pushed, shoved, pulled and rolled its self to the water with toes that should have been smashed and arms that should have been crushed left undone. All to a den of shouting that the multi-languages of Bedlam could not have held a candle too (imagine all those words plus many more shouted at the same time in a staggering rhythm and you will have it about right). Then she was a float, all was quiet, and the Bahamians left as if someone had punched their time clock, leaving Bo, Van, and I standing on the iron rock watching “Seahorse” rock to the gentle swell of her new home patiently awaiting her mast and lead.

For the record, I am still in awe (as in shock and awe and as in true respect for ) how Bahamians approach projects like moving Seahorse. All I can say is it is still a mystery to me just how the job was done and why no one was hurt, but it did happen and no one was… and I got to be part of whatever did.

One “ting certain Mon”...it was pure Bahamian...Pure Bahamian.

(I apologize for the photos. I screwed up and left the camera's autofocus set on manual..thus the blurry images)

Hand Line Fishin':

After a week of waiting for a window to head down to Georgetown and the 60^th Family Island Regatta on Monday the15th one finally opened. It wasn't the best window in the world but it was the best we were going to get for at least another week with winds in the 10-15 knot range on the nose and 1 to 3 foot seas. So we were off out Dothom Cut at first light.We had heard that mahi were everywhere and we should get a boat load on the way down and we were anxious to try our luck.

We had hand lines in the water within the hour. Our friends had told us to fish with rigged ballyhoo with a pink skirt on it's nose, about 120' behind the boat and run about 7k. We zigzagged our way south running on and off soundings with no luck. It was Gigi's watch (of course, she is the fisher lady) and she had just fixed her lunch (again of course) and the Turtle was in about 100' of water when the fish hit .

We have no boat rod or reel (we will next year) - we use hand lines. Our technique is to let the fish drag behind the boat a bit before we pull him in to take the fight out of him and pray a shark doesn't get him before we do. We keep a bucket handy to dump the extra line in as it comes aboard. Gigi hauled and I dumped the line in the bucket, we swung him aboard and dumped him in the scuppers. The Turtle Crew had caught a 10 to15 pound Cero Mackerel (about a 4 to 5 meal fish). Cero is similar in flavor and texture to a King Mackerel. Within 30 minutes he was cleaned and in the frig ready for supper.

That evening at anchor in Georgetown off Kid Cove, we marinated a couple of pieces in zesty italian dressing, grilled him, and had him for supper with a little wild rice. Mmmm Gooood!

Our friend, Jim off “No Regrets,” says we should be off soundings for mahi. On the trip North we will try that...but Cero ain't bad by a long stretch and we still have 3 meals left in the freezer.

 

That Time of Year..

It is that time of year again... the time when all us cruisers feel a “stirring.” Like the great flocks of migrating water fowl just before the spring thaw something awakens in our very marrow and swings our compass Northward. A bit of restlessness descends on the anchorages and clouds our collective thoughts. Our senses are heightened to every color and sound. Every swim in that gin clear water is absorbed and savored to the fullest. Every sunset takes on a special heightened must see priority and the pastels of the dieing sun somehow are exaggerated. We visit our friends in the settlements with emotional hugs and smiles of “until next year” at every meeting. “Goodbys” take on a bit more permanence and heart felt poignance as friends depart - friends that we will not see again until the fall... and some never ever again in this life. All cruisers know that goodbys are part of the lifestyle but they still go straight to the heart (we have known people that quit cruising because they could no longer take the goodbys). 

cow fish

 

The words “fair winds,” “safe travels,” and “until next year” fill the air waves on the VHF as boat after boat hauls its anchor and heads North. North to the States. North to Canada. North to Europe. North to England. North to Home. North to Family and Friends. North to the “unreal world” we all left behind.

And Salty Turtle will follow in their wake North as soon as Family Island Regatta is over...but not yet..not, just yet.

Fairwinds & Rum Drinks,

Vic C.