Crossing to the Bahamas

(Originally published in 2012)

Miami to the Bahamas

Departed for Bahamas in Feb 2005

It’s January of 2005 and we are finally in Miami. It seems like forever and then some that it has taken us to get here but we made it. After the disaster in Portsmouth that took pretty much the entire month of November, the déjà vu episodes at Pungo Ferry, the Charleston to Savannah fiasco, freezing our butts off in New Smyrna on my birthday and the planned delays we took when we stopped over in Melbourne for a couple weeks earlier in the month, we are finally at anchor in the lee of Miami Beach and at last enjoying the warmth of the south Florida sun. We dropped the hook in the middle of the northern end of Biscayne Bay just north of the MacArthur Causeway between a couple of little islands (They look really kind of artificial to me, like spoil islands that have been rehabbed?) – Palm Island and Hibiscus Island. Between us and the outer island of Miami Beach, on what is known as Star Island, we have a view of a rather elaborate looking mansion to the east of us. Rumor has it that the house belongs to Madonna. The MacArthur Causeway runs along Dodge Island to the south of us. That island borders on Government Cut and is the home of Miami’s cruise ship industry, and we can watch the ships coming and going. The city of Miami is to the west of us, so sitting at anchor here we are really in the heart of things. We are anchored with some other boats. Green Eggs and Samis a trawler with a couple aboard that we met through some friends. They used to travel aboard a sailboat but have recently gone to a trawler. Our friends Norm and Judy are also anchored nearby aboard their sailboat. In addition our former neighbors and best sailing friends, Bonnie and Roger, are anchored nearby aboard their catamaran Kokomo. They are hoping to make their Gulf Stream crossing on the next weather window, which right now looks a few days away yet. Since we just got to Miami, we have a few things to get done while we are here before we’re ready to leave, so we’ll probably miss that window. We have a leak around the fitting on one of our high-pressure hoses on the Clark pump of our Spectrawatermaker. The Clark pump IS the watermaker, so, since we have warranty coverage and since we have good shipping access here in and out of Miami, we’ll get it done now. Those kinds of things will only become more difficult after we leave the mainland.

Superbowl Sunday was coming up in just a couple of days. The New England Patriots would be taking on the Philadelphia Eagles and plans were being made around the harbor accordingly. Kokomoand our friends Norm and Judy were getting together aboard Green Eggssince the trawler had a larger salon area and good TV reception. Annie and I were invited to join in and decided that, even though we could take or leave the football, it was a chance for us to get together with old friends one more time. All of us had known one another back in Baltimore when Annie was dockmaster and manager at HarborView Marina. Bonnie and Roger were our next-door neighbors for several years there, occupying the T-head of the dock end where we resided in the outermost slip. Norm and Judy were snowbirds who passed through twice a year coming and going from and to the Bahamas and there home cruising grounds in New England. Sam and his wife knew Norm and Judy and Bonnie and Roger in the past from when they had all met up while sailing up in New England.

We had taken our dinghy ashore to the nearest internet location – no Wi-Fi on the bay at that time. Back then you had to seek out an internet connection and find an internet café or some such. Often we had to be satisfied with plain old dial-up but occasionally, such as in Miami, we could get a high-speed connection. We contacted Spectraand they would be shipping the needed high-pressure hose with fittings by overnight express but with the weekend coming on it would be after the weekend before we would have the part in our hands.

In the meantime we enjoyed the Superbowl festivities with our friends aboard Green Eggs and Sam. The game wasn’t a bad one but the companionship and camaraderie made the day memorable far more than the overpaid celebrities on the tube. Later in the evening we all boarded our dinghies and returned to our boats, safely anchored far out in the bay, away from the dangers of the mainland and any possible unwelcome overnight boardings. Bonnie and Roger headed off the following day to stage out for their crossing. They would head a few miles further down to the south, beyond the bridges and the commercial vessels and all the hubbub of Miami, and anchor out for the night so when daylight broke in the morning, they could simply pull up the anchor and go. Norm and Judy had been discussing the crossing the previous day at the party and had dropped a real bomb: they weren’t going to go this year. They had had enough of the Bahamas snowbird crossings and were going to hang out on the mainland for the winter, possibly head down to the Keys for the season. Sam and his wife, a little anxious about crossing aboard a relatively flat-bottomed trawler no longer with the peace of mind of having a massive sailboat keel beneath them, found that idea worthy of consideration but wanted to think about it. For now they were content to wait for the next weather window.

We had to hold out for the arrival of our watermaker part, which meant missing this window. It had the appearance of being a good one, so we felt bad but hey, you’ve got to do what you’ve got to do. The weather report gave us hope for another approaching front that looked promising, which was to arrive within a few days. Nevertheless we were still disappointed at missing this opportunity. Our part arrived as expected and we installed it and resumed our wait. At this point we were still all excited at making the crossing. Crossing the Gulf Stream is the hot tamale, the big show, for the snowbirders. We had gotten psyched into a bit of a state. Listening to the chatter on the VHF, we thought, how bad can it be? What’s all the fuss? But that didn’t really help. After all, we were facing an unknown quantity and it’s natural and normal to be a tad anxious. So when the evening before our anticipated departure arrived we got on the radio calling around seeing if others were in agreement about what appeared to be an obvious chance to make the crossing. There was little doubt in our rational minds. The forecast called for light breezes, less than 10 knots from the east, waves a foot or less. No storms or rain, sunshiny, pleasant. That was the NOAA forecast; it was cruising weatherman Chris Parker’s forecast. Sounded perfect. Could it be too perfect? Nah… self-doubt again.

So we finally talked on the VHF with one boat who was crossing next day who had made the crossing five times previously. These guys were veterans and they were leaving on this window. We asked if we could just tag along, kind of see what the routine is for staging out for the morning crossing, listen in to their thoughts. Not that we ever jump in and do what the other guy does without thinking it through, but just to have the additional ideas and reminders, hopefully not leave out any significant considerations. They said sure, why not. The plan was to up anchor next day and stage out to the southern tip of Key Biscayne and take the adjacent channel out into open water and go for it. We did exactly that the following day, weighing anchor and heading around the southern tip of Dodge Island and through the bridge, leaving Miami behind. We motored several miles south down Biscayne Bay, keeping a mile or so offshore from the Key Biscayne shoreline, until we came at last to the southern tip. There is a well-protected inlet known as Hurricane Harbor there at the southern tip of the key and we dropped our anchor a quarter mile off shore from the mouth of that inlet. The Biscayne Channel was visible at the southern tip of the island. For Annie and myself, even though as the evening darkness set in the sky was clear and the sea was flat calm, the excitement in the air was palpable.

In the morning at sunrise we were weighing anchor and following a group of boats out through the Key Biscayne channel into open water. Everything felt pretty routine. As the sun rose in the east we worked our way out into the Atlantic. As we motored along we began to feel a noticeable breeze blowing into our faces and a light chop began to appear. The annoying thunk, thunk, thunk ofFidelispounding into the light chop began to wear on us but we’ve been there many a time. On the Great Lakes whenever we wanted to go anywhere, the breeze always seemed to be in our face and that annoying thunk of us pounding through the chop was a part of the sailing life. Most recently we ran into it big time as we left the Detroit River and entered the waters of Lake Erie. We hit it again on the Erie Canal when we were crossing Lake Oneida in upstate New York and again on the shoreline passage coming down the Jersey shore when we left New York City and Sandy Hook behind us. It was a frequent issue in our sails on Chesapeake Bay when we wanted to get somewhere and couldn’t just ‘sail with the wind.’ We looked at each other. We agreed that, even though this was the Gulf Stream, we were okay and that our only concern was that the breeze not get any stronger and that it not shift to the north. Otherwise we might opt to turn back. On the Gulf Stream, northerly breezes can be truly nasty if not downright dangerous. But so far the weather was pretty much sticking to the forecast. The breeze wasn’t dangerous and the chop was merely annoying. We decided to hang in there. The increasing chatter on the radio carried a different note. The boats around us were starting to complain and make noises about turning back. First one boat and then another decided that this was not their cup of tea. We were probably ten or fifteen miles out on a sixty-mile crossing at this point and boats were giving up. We heard several boats throw in the towel that had come through the cut with us from our Key Biscayne anchorage. Green Eggs called it a day. They had tried it, but they never did make the crossing. Even the five-time veteran with whom we had chosen to tag along gave it up and went back to try again tomorrow. Annie and I shrugged it off, sucked it up, and kept going. Finally, around noon the breeze started to ease off and the chop began to let up as we approached the lee of Bimini.

We were not certain about the entrance into the harbor at Alice Town on North Bimini. We knew we had to enter through the gap between North and South Bimini. Our Cap’ncharts on the computer showed us we could probably make it but the exact route looked touchy. Bimini is one of those entrances that shifts around with the weather and the waves and with our draft we were in need of local knowledge. The Bahamas hydrography was not going to be exactly hospitable to our 7-foot draft so we often had to play it by ear. We got on the horn and called a sizeable local dive boat that we could see in the distance. The captain was waiting on the tide for enough water to make it in, so we figured they were a good bet for us to follow. Other sailboats who had come across with us, hearing on the radio that we carried 7 feet, waited around to follow us. This was going to become a familiar routine for us in the future. When the dive boat made its move, we made ours, following in his wake. We bumped a few times on the way in but nothing more dramatic than a few mild soft sand bounces. As we maneuvered in the current to come alongside the outside face of a dock at Weech’s Marina, another boat grabbed that spot – it was every man for himself now – and we were forced to try to make the turn to the inside of that pier. As we did so, the fiercely running tidal current T-boned us across the end of the pier as we tried to make it around. It required all of our strength plus a couple of other sailors to get Fidelisto pivot around the end and up against the inner face, but we were there. It was 2:30 in the afternoon. We had done it. A minor victory, but a victory nonetheless.