Windy Blues
Jan 19, 2024
After some debating we have decided not to get fuel at Staniel Cay. There are so many logistical questions that we don’t have the ability to answer at this point in time, and we’ve only used about a quarter of our total fuel. Depending on the route we take after reaching the southern tip of the Exumas, we may or may not require more diesel, but we can always get some in George Town.
Saying goodbye to Staniel Cay
Our main concern is the price: the marina on Staniel Cay charges $5.75 per gallon, so if we topped off it would cost about fifteen hundred dollars. The fuel in George Town will probably be the same price, if not more expensive, but at least we will know for sure if we need it or not. It would suck to top off here and then end up not needing it because we decide on a shorter route.
Instead of making a dent in our budget we opted to try and fill the dent in our freezer. We haven’t caught anything to eat since Bimini and morale surrounding dinners is declining. Despite having reassured ourselves that we have the right baits, techniques, and location, the fish continue to elude us. It is definitely not for lack of trying.
We pulled anchor and got the rods in the water immediately. This time we broke out some of the lures we bought in Florida. Up until now we haven’t lost enough of them to break into the new ones, but it’s time to change it up. What we have been using has a proven track record in previous years of producing fish, but lately it hasn’t been working. My dad rigged up a couple of the new divers we bought in hopes that a different color or size may be the answer.
An example of two squid lures (left) and two of our diving lures (right)
Our normal tactic is to pull one medium to large diver on our biggest rod and have it isolated on one side of the cockpit. The other two rods are then both deployed with a squid lure of varying size and color next to each other on the opposite side. The diver and larger squid are then let out to around the same distance behind the boat and the smaller squid is kept somewhat shorter in hopes of avoiding a tangle in the lines. Obviously that doesn’t always keep them from making a mess, but it sure doesn’t hurt. Now I may be disclosing classified fishing secrets here, but lately they don’t seem so valuable. Do with them what you will.
Today we tried pulling two divers of varying size and color and a nice, brightly colored squid. Initially the hopes were high and the crew was in good spirits. However, after an hour or more of no action, the doubts began creeping in. We instinctively swapped around the duties of driving and watching poles in hopes of changing our luck. Sounds superstitious doesn’t it? Well you would try it all too if you were in our shoes.
Jules was struggling with the rolling waves again and layed down in hopes of escaping the nausea. I took over driving from my parents and they went to watch the rods. My dad also changed out one of the lures for something more coloful. The moment I sat down to drive I heard the drag rip from one of the rods and my mom screamed “FISH ON!!!” I had to compose myself for a moment to contain my excitement and pulled the boat back to an idle speed before running to assist.
We’re absolutely dying for some fresh fish
The lure my dad had just changed out had been hit, but by the time I got within sight of the rod the fish was off. I think Poseidon is angry with our boat for a lackluster offering on Warderick Wells, but to be fair, we specifically asked for nice weather and healthy reef; not one of us even mentioned fishing. Still the last few instances of “fish on” have ended very abruptly. We continued fishing with a renewed sense of hope, but by the time we reached our inlet we remained empty-handed. Not even a barracuda to keep our spirits up.
The destination for the night is the town of Black Point at the northern end of Great Guana Cay. My parents know a woman there who makes the best bread in the Bahamas so Jules and I are excited to try it. We pulled into the bay to the west of town and anchored.
Similar to Staniel Cay, the anchorage was semi-crowded but the town is much more low-key. The main appeal is a laundromat that claims to be the most “cruiser friendly” laundromat in the Exumas. Those words were music to our ears as both Jules and I have some pretty rank laundry that could sorely use a wash. We stripped both of the beds, gathered all of the used towels, and lowered the skiff.
I was so excited for some clean sheets
First, we went to drop off trash. My dad drove us to the government dock and I hopped out and took it to a trailer parked in the lot. Unlike Staniel Cay, Black Point asks for a donation rather than charging to dispose of any trash. They rely entirely on the honor system as the trailer has a lockbox mounted on it and no one is keeping watch. I dropped off our one bag and happily stuck two dollars in the slot.
My dad then drove us to the laundromat dock. Yes, they have their own dock for cruisers to park their skiffs, it’s sweet. The four of us lugged our laundry up the steps and paid for some tokens to use the machines. Once the wash was moving we had thirty minutes to kill. Might as well go inquire about some bread, rum, and groceries.
The bakery is actually just a woman’s house and she apparently sells out quickly. By the time we talked to her she had nothing left and was weaving some palm fronds together. My dad did his best to place an order and will be here early tomorrow.
Many people on the island weave palm fronds and sell them to manufacturers on Nassau
Next we went to a restaurant called Scorpios. My parents have enjoyed happy hour there a couple of times and have videos to prove it. The bar also sells rum and our stock is getting low, unfortunately it’s about double the price of Bimini.
After making those two stops we still had about twenty minutes to burn as the bakery and bar are right next door to the laundromat. There are still a couple of items on the grocery list so we walked a short distance into town to check out the stores.
Like Staniel Cay there are three of them, but they are definitely smaller and more expensive. After stopping at all of them, we bought one bag of rice and then went back to swap our laundry. Upon completing our errands, we headed back to the boat and waited for happy hour to start at four.
A directory of local shops and attractions
Of course there was still more to do. The motor on the skiff has been problematic the last couple of days. My dad checked the oil and discovered that it was overfilled. His theory is that the carburetor flooded with gas and overflowed into the oil. This creates a number of problems: the oil is much thinner than it should be, the engine is struggling to start, and having too much oil is worse than having too little. Time to change the oil.
Naturally, being on a boat adds about six extra layers of difficulty. First we raised the skiff out of the water with the crane and then gently balanced it on the rail of the cockpit. Precarious doesn’t even cut it. Draining the oil is as simple as removing a bolt, but of course we had to catch and direct it into a container so we weren’t polluting the ocean. My dad removed and replaced the filter and we refilled the oil reservoir. I think it went pretty smoothly all things considered.
We lowered it back into the water and fired it up. It sounded horrible! My dad revved it a couple of times in hopes of it getting better to no avail. He then checked the oil level again and it didn’t even show on the dipstick. Quickly he killed the power and we topped it off. The difference was night and day, he revved it again and the engine purred beautifully.
It looks peaceful, but it’s hard work
After all of this we decided to try and squeeze in a snorkel before dark. My parents tried to take us to a spot that they had snorkeled before. However, when every bit of shoreline looks alike and there are little to no landmarks, it’s tough to find. We rolled into the water and saw only sand. There was an occasional anemone clinging to the rocky wall along the shore and a few small pieces of coral, but otherwise it was uneventful.
On the way back to the skiff, I noticed a huge barracuda patrolling the sand bed. The fish was covered in battle scars and had a couple of small fish darting around him. We kept an eye on him as he swam past but he wasn’t worried about us at all. We may not have seen much, but I think we were all happy to have gotten in the water. Now it’s time for happy hour.
The rocky coastline surrounding Black Point
We returned to the boat, rinsed off the saltwater, and put on dry clothes. Scorpios, like the laundromat, has its own dock for cruisers. The tide was pretty low when we pulled up, making it a huge step up to get out of the boat. There is a ladder to help people climb up, but it was engulfed in other parked skiffs.
My dad managed to get over to it, and Jules, my mom, and I climbed out. Then he pulled around to the other side and we tied up our skiff, but the dock was sitting five feet over the water line with no ladder nearby. My dad jumped from the bow of the skiff and the three of us grabbed his shoulders and pulled him up onto the dock. I’m glad we didn’t drop him, because we definitely had an audience of bar patrons watching at that point.
Watching a beautiful sunset from Scorpio’s Bar
We sat down at the bar and proceeded to drown our fishing sorrows in two-for-one rum punches and watch the sunset over the water. The drinks are served in small plastic cups, but the alcohol ratio makes up for the size. Supposedly it’s a combination of pineapple, orange, lime, and rum, but after a drink or two you’ll be asking: “WHERE’S THE JUICE?” We drank three rounds and were definitely under the influence.
Jan 20, 2024
I am happy to say that I woke up feeling better than I expected to. Not that any of us were severely drunk, but there’s typically some tax to pay after drinking and I think I avoided it. Jules made an executive decision and took it upon herself to make some breakfast sandwiches for everyone. Our fresh bread combined with a tasty runny yolk egg, bacon, and spicy green chili hit the spot.
There is some nasty looking wind headed our way in the next day or two, so we moved a few minutes south to a more protected anchorage. The water in this area is plenty deep for us to snuggle up close to the shore and out of the wind and waves. Surprisingly, there was only one boat anchored here when we arrived. My parents said the last time they rode out a storm here boats were packed in tight.
This spot also gives us great access to a beautiful beach. The wind is predicted to start up around four in the afternoon so we took advantage of our last few hours of calm to go paddleboard.
One of our favorite beaches so far
Just south of the beach, the shoreline turns into an awesome wall of limestone. The ocean has carved a deep channel where the waves crash against it causing a dramatic overhang. A cacophony of lapping waves drew our attention and we laid down on our boards to peer under the lip.
The constant erosion creates pockets and crevasses where the softer minerals dissolve, and the water flowing in and out makes some very unique sounds. The wide array of pitches and gurgles produced sounded alien in nature, like something out of a sci-fi movie.
It’s also interesting to me that the iron shore, which I have described multiple times as gnarly, and jagged, is also very fragile. The sharpest pieces are also the nearest to falling off. I reached over with my paddle and just touched some areas and the edges crumbled away into the water.
Jules and I drifted along the wall right over the top of the smallest sea turtle I’ve ever seen. Unlike the majority of the others we have come across, he was a hawksbill sea turtle. Contrary to the green sea turtle, the edges of their shells are serrated and they have a much sharper and more pointed beak than other turtles as their name would suggest.
Hawksbill turtle (Left) Green turtle (Right); photos by SEETurtles.org and Jeff Milisen
He kept us company right under our boards and eventually came up to take a breath. Upon breaking the surface he saw two huge looming shapes hovering above him and was understandably startled. He instantly ducked back into the water and paddled away rapidly.
Some sections of the wall have sheared off and fallen into the ocean creating structure for fish and invertebrates to hide. Floating over those areas we saw multiple reef fish darting about, but the ripples on the surface made them tough to identify.
Jules and I made our way up to the beach where my parents were relaxing under their umbrella. We drug the boards out of the water and walked the beach. The tiny sand particles were so delicate and smooth under our feet.
My parents sure know how to relax
Jules recently began a mission to craft using trash we find on the shore. She sifted through the plastic debris picking out pieces that match her idea. Her goal is to create a sort of crown from the materials and then wear it to our upcoming music festival. She hopes to spread awareness of trash in our oceans while simultaneously making a fashion statement.
I know it sounds a little far-fetched, but once she has her mind set on something it’s useless to try and change it. She has surprised me time and time again with her ability to find valuable uses for things that are discarded by the general population. I’m betting she ends up with a pretty awesome piece.
The beginning of a masterpiece? Or madness?
While she was busy sorting through her tiny treasures, I took a walk up the hill behind the beach. The sand weaved through an array of low lying scrub and small trees until I ended up on a crude dirt road at the top of a small rise. My feet have become increasingly tough while on this trip and now actually feel more comfortable with shoes off rather than on. I walked across the road carefully on bare feet to a patch of sand on the opposite side. From there I could just start to see the ocean.
Hoping for a better view, I continued walking along the sand through the spattering of dense plants. Slowly the boom of crashing waves came into earshot and my excitement heightened. As I drew nearer to the edge, my sandy path became sharp and jagged iron shore so I had to be careful with my footing, but I refused to be deterred. I clambered down a couple of steps and arrived on the edge of an immensely sheer cliff overlooking the ocean.
Huge waves ferociously beat against the shore
The waves rolled in and grew to a peak as the water became more shallow and then crashed hard against the rocky wall below me. I admired the view for a few minutes before turning back toward the beach. I made my way across the road and down the sandy hill and met Jules wandering through the brush. Eager to show her what I had just witnessed, I called out to her to follow me. She and I returned to the cliffside and scrambled over the sharp rocks. Even having just seen it minutes before I stood again in awe at the gorgeous view.
Eventually the wind strengthened to an uncomfortable level and we headed back to the beach. My parents packed up their chairs and umbrella and we drove back to the Altitude Adjustment, arriving just in time to hoist the skiff back to the roof before the gusts whipped around us. Time for some dinner!
All of our activities had me famished. My dad marinated and grilled pork chops, Jules whipped together some instant Idahoan mashed potatoes, and I constructed a salad with our freshly procured vegetables. I would have never expected it, but Idahoan instant mashed potatoes can be killer. We doctor them up with butter, cheese, green chili, and garlic - there’s never any leftovers.
Having good ingredients to add definitely helps, but I’m blown away at how great they are. I was a cook for a long time and made mashed potatoes literally every day for the restaurant but I’d stack our instant mash against theirs made with Yukon Gold potatoes any day of the week. I might even prefer ours because they have green chili in them.
Jan 21, 2024
This morning Jules and I awoke to a rather unusual sound. When the boat swings back and forth in the wind the ropes of our snubber stretch and creak, at this point I think we are both fairly used to it. However that wasn’t the only noise we were hearing, there was a strange clinging that resembled a chain. Once I got up, I poured some coffee and went out on the bow to investigate.
Somehow one of the ropes holding our snubber had come untied and fallen into the water. I went and told my dad and he came to help me retrieve the loose end. I pulled on the rope that was still attached and, using the boat hook, he was able to snag the dangling line. He pulled it in, we secured it back to the cleat, and we were back to normal.
The two of us then sat there and scratched our heads, perplexed at the situation. The rope wasn’t damaged or broken, the other rope was still secured to the cleat just fine, and we are all confident in tying a figure eight to a cleat. Unable to deduce a cause for the failure, he and I went back inside out of the wind. I’m just happy that nothing was damaged.
The wind did intensify over night, but we rode out a much heftier blow in Hurricane Harbor and the snubber ropes held fine. Unfortunately the weather is predicted to remain like this for nearly a week, consistently blowing over twenty knots. The bullets are whipping across the water’s surface like an automatic machine gun offering no mercy to the exposed parts of the boat.
Jules doing an impersonation of a weather vane
Slowly our anchorage is filling up, multiple boats that we saw in Black Point have come around the corner to join us in hopes of better protection. For this strong east wind I’m not sure that we could be in a much better spot.
Being confined to the boat has presented us with an opportunity to tackle our mold problem. Being from Colorado, humidity has been fairly nonexistent for the majority of my life. I knew I was in for a surprise on this trip, but I didn’t know to what extent. The day before yesterday I pulled my backpack out of our closet and discovered it was turning green. The bottom and front pocket had developed a literal carpet across it!
Immediately I had it in the sink scrubbing with vinegar and hot water. The rest of our clothes had dodged the bullet somehow, but Julia’s shoes, ukulele case, and wallet weren’t as lucky. She scrubbed them all with the same vinegar solution and left them out to dry. Nearly the entire time we have been on the boat my clothes have smelled somewhat musty, I assume it is just the price of admission.
The mold is one of those things that builds up really slowly and isn’t super noticeable until you start cleaning. My mom pulled out everything from against the walls in our dining area and went to town while Jules performed the same action in our bedroom. They scrubbed every square inch of wall and ceiling they could and the difference was stark. The bowl of soapy vinegar water Jules used turned black and needed to be refreshed multiple times, and our bedroom just isn’t very big.
Jules cleaning the ceiling in our stateroom
The humidity is great for things like making my skin feel nice and soft and keeping my nails from being brittle, but it also rapidly decreases the shelf-life of cereal and chips, doesn’t allow any of our towels to dry, ever, and bedsheets and blankets feel wet to the touch when lying down. On this subject, I may prefer Colorado, but they both have their drawbacks.
After cleaning it was again time to play some cards. A week ago we began keeping score of our cribbage games and consistently playing with the same partner (Jules and I versus my mom and dad). After seven days the score is all square at six to six. We have played so much cribbage that we even tried it backwards. The normal game is essentially a race to the finish line, instead we tried to get there as slowly as possible. It was hysterical, I think we may try and play reverse hearts next.
The cooler weather and gray skies prompted my mom to make spaghetti, one of my favorites. To be honest I just love Italian food, but spaghetti is definitely up there. She used a pound of elk Italian sausage and a pound of regular hamburger. After searing off the onions, carrots, garlic, and meat she added the tomatoes and melded together a magnificent sauce in the Instapot. My dad then sliced some bread and buttered it up with garlic salt before toasting it in the airfryer. Combine it all on top of some pasta and we had a meal that would make any Italian family jealous.
Bad weather with a great view
Jan 22, 2024
As of this morning we are in for at least three more days of wind over twenty knots. Windfinder uses a color-coded system to label the forecast and I’m tired of seeing green in our future.
20 knots is weak compared to the 35+ knots we endured in Hurricane Harbor
In an attempt to stay entertained I pulled up YouTube. In Colorado, watching videos was a somewhat regular part of my days off. I enjoyed relaxing after my long shifts at the brewery and drinking a beer. Here it is quite the contrary, minus the beer part. I started browsing some of the recent content from creators I used to tune into regularly and found myself bored. Maybe it’s because I’ve taken such a break from it that I am no longer up to speed on things, or possibly because I have much better things to do down here than watch videos. Either way, I lost interest rapidly.
My next activity was to do some yoga. I’m still not convinced that I’m doing any of it correctly, but supposedly practice makes perfect. Some days the instruction leads me to be calm and relaxed and others I end up covered in sweat and trembling. I never really know what I’m going to get, but that helps keep it interesting.
Jules used part of the day to work on her project for The Watershed Center. It’s an organization that she did some work for during a coding certificate program. She now has a part-time contract position that uses her GIS skills to help them plan future projects around floodplain resilience. She creates relative elevation models of certain areas that help The Watershed Center determine the likelihood and severity of future floods in Boulder, Colorado. It’s not super lucrative, but at least one of us has some money coming in.
An example of a relative elevation model (Beaver Creek, AK); photo from Open Topography
While she brought in the bacon, my parents and I lowered the skiff and headed to the beach. The gap between the boat and the sand was like driving through a NASA wind tunnel, but when we arrived on the beach a nearby hill calmed the gusts to a gentle breeze. After being cooped up all day, we were all excited for a walk.
We trudged through the sparse brush behind the beach and up to the dirt road. The thunderous roar of crashing waves filled the air. The amplified winds screaming across the ocean was sure to have created some monster surge. We hiked across the low-lying plants and emerged on the sheer cliff above the ocean.
The surf below us was unbelievable! Enormous waves grew into peaks as they neared the shore before exploding against the steep face below us. Eager for a better view we slinked back to the road and headed for some tall rocks to our left.
The road conveniently led us up a hill that almost entirely blocked the wind, but once we emerged on top the full force was unleashed. We had to brace into the gusts to keep our footing. The scale of the waves was hard to judge from above, but they looked tremendous. They were colliding with the wall below us so violently that the spray was coating my glasses. Unsurprisingly we didn’t see any boats braving the storm.
So glad we weren’t crossing today
I’m fairly confident that those were the largest seas I’ve ever witnessed in person. I am very happy to have been observing rather than experiencing the ferocity on display. The ocean is not usually known for being merciful, but Posiden definitely woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. After bearing witness to the wrath of the sea gods, we made our way back down to the beach.
The three of us strolled to the end and back on the luxurious soft sand. I found another small starfish being tossed around in the surf and relocated him to a calmer spot. Getting off of the boat for a little while was well worth the effort, I never knew how much of a luxury taking a walk could be. Even if we did get blasted by the wind for most of it.
Jan 23, 2024
These windy days are all blurring together, it’s starting to feel like “Groundhog Day” with Bill Murray. At least we changed up our food this morning. Jules woke up hankering for a breakfast burrito. Typically they are a staple for breakfast food when I’m around my parents, but I think this is the first time we have made them on this trip. I got tunnel vision as soon as she mentioned it and promptly had some killer burritos knocked out.
The view through our tiny stateroom portholes
After settling into an early morning food coma, we all lazed around well into the afternoon. The only person who managed to stay busy was Jules. She probably has about a dozen projects in progress at all times. She’s always researching how to upgrade the blog’s website, working on things for The Watershed Center, or planning our camping and food list for our music festival in June. I’m not sure she ever actually takes a break.
Finally I got stir-crazy enough to suggest another walk, I really wanted to show Jules the spectacle of waves on the far side of the island. Again we lowered the skiff and headed for the beach. My parents decided to stay out of the wind and walk along the beach while Jules and I climbed up the hill. After being stuck inside all day the gusts didn’t bother us too much.
She and I hiked to the spot my parents and I had found the day before and again basked in the raw power on display. If there was a way to harness the energy of storm surge, I’m sure it could power entire cities. The waves pummeled against the rock face below us showing no signs of halting.
In awe of the magnificent crashing seas
Eventually we turned back and headed for the beach. My parents met a couple from one of the neighboring boats in the anchorage. They told us they were both from Texas and, after purchasing their catamaran named Lulu, had sold their house to live onboard full-time.
Personally, I’m not sure that I could live on a boat like this year round, I’m just too big. Between hitting my head on literally everything, the fifth grader sized toilets, and the “one-butt” kitchen I would slowly go insane. But to each their own I guess.