SAILING TO THE BAHAMAS

by Captain Mark Stetler, Alliance

TUESDAY, MAY 2, 0730hrs, OFF SULLIVAN’S ISLAND

Single-handed sailing is relatively easy, so long as nothing goes wrong and the weather is working for you. You do what you can before you ever leave the dock: go over every aspect of the boat, research the weather, chart the course. As prepared as one may be, there is always something that inevitably appears to turn your attention. Weather, for one.

As the song goes, “You can’t get there from here.” Somebody in R.E.M.’s crew must have been a sailor.

Sailboats cannot sail directly into the wind, and as any sailor will tell you, the wind always seems to be on the nose. Moving against the wind means tacking back and forth to get where you are headed, making an offshore passage that much longer. No matter how much I plan, when it’s time to leave and safe to do so, I go.

The weather was beautiful when I left Charleston. Pleasant temperatures, nice wind, and a promising extended forecast. While the wind speed was ideal, its direction was not. And it was not forecast to change for at least a week - south wind on the nose for my entire voyage south. My planned 450 mile jaunt turned into a longer-lasting journey.

When I charter the boat, I tell my curious guests that 2 hours in a car averaging 60 miles per hour is about 24 hours on a sailboat with perfect wind conditions. Since my first stop was set to be Fort Pierce, Florida to get a required COVID-19 test necessary to enter the Bahamas, I cast off and Alliance set sail.

Three Days At Sea

Working my way south in 2-4-foot swells and a 10-15-knot wind, I settled in for the first leg. My girl was beating into the wind and slicing through the waves with only dolphins, flying fish and a few sea turtles to keep company. Even the shipping traffic was non-existent. Alliance performed magnificently. That is until the clew ring on her genoa tore free from the sail. Flogging back and forth (and making a hell of a lot of noise), I realized I needed to take down the 140 percent sail and replace it with the 90 percent heavy weather jib sail. Me, myself and I. Single-handedly.

The other thing about being tens of miles at sea - alone - is that anything you do outside the safety of the cabin or the cockpit can be very dangerous. Think “spacewalk dangerous.”

Before I left Charleston, I ran the jackline, both bow to stern and port to starboard, for my own safety. Every time I leave the cockpit I wear an inflatable life jacket, and always use a tether to attach myself to the boat. Tethers are a mixed bag. If the boat is moving at a good clip through the water and you fall overboard, your chances of making it back on board are slim to none and challenging at best. Tethered to the boat, at least you are not in the water forty miles from shore watching your boat sail away on autopilot. So, spacewalk dangerous.

Thankfully, none of that transpired and I was able to heave to and fro to get the sails changed without issue. Mission accomplished.

THURSDAY, MAY 5, 2300, FT. PIERCE, FLORIDA

It was well past dark when I was arriving into Ft. Pierce. No slips were available at any of the marinas, so I decided to drop anchor in a sweet little spot just outside of Safe Harbor Marina. I went below decks and fell fast asleep.

FRIDAY, MAY 6, 0700, FT. PIERCE, FLORIDA

Weather and the Gulf Stream. The next day was a busy one. When sailing, you live by sunrise and sunset. After three days at sea, and no way of updating my weather reports when well offshore, I passed the time planning my crossing. As it turned out, I had no time to rest. The wind was backing to the southwest and increasing from 7-12 to 15-25 knots. I wanted to be on the other side of the Gulf Stream before the winds picked up.

After a successful (negative) 8 a.m. COVID-19 test, I weighed anchor and left for the Bahamas. The weather forecast was spot-on, and for the next 30 hours Alliance enjoyed idyllic sailing conditions. As fate would have it, even my heavy weather jib was perfect for the crossing.

When crossing the Gulf Stream you cannot just point the boat to where you want to go, in this case Matanilla Shoal. So I laid in a course to Settlement Point and let the stream push me north, adjusting as necessary. The day was windy, Alliance was in her element, sailing faster than we had for the entire trip, but 30 hours of great sailing is still a long time to sail with one rail in the water. Draining, actually, and the sun was setting as I approached Matanilla Shoal.

Earlier I mentioned that shipping traffic was almost non-existent on the way down from Charleston to Ft. Pierce. Almost. It all lay in ambush just as I was about to enter Bahamian waters. I was moving along, close-hauled at 7 knots on a pitchblack night when the dormant fleet began its intercept.

Of the traffic, there were only two vessels that gave me pause; one was a cargo ship and the other, a sport fishing boat. I called the first vessel, the container ship, on the VHF radio. They picked up and we confirmed that we saw each other. I explained that I had zero options to adjust my course and requested they give me a couple degrees to starboard just in case.

The second vessel was cause for serious concern. The captain was on autopilot and apparently asleep at the helm. I called him several times on channel 16, used my DSC to call him privately, ship to ship, and never got an answer. So in the dark of night I watched him narrowly pass an eighth of a mile in front of me. I could not wait to get into shallower waters.

The sailing that night was exhilarating, exhausting and seemingly endless. As the sun was rising, so was my elation, being engulfed by the Bahama Island.

SATURDAY, MAY 7, 1500hrs, GREEN TURTLE CAY

How thrilling to pull into Green Turtle Cay Club and Marina! Now, the next challenge: getting through Customs. I had missed the Customs officer by just a few hours, so I would have to wait until Monday to submit my paperwork. In the meantime, I cleaned up the boat, took my first real shower in five days and settled in to wait for the Admiral. I took in the surroundings, enjoyed a great meal and fell hard asleep.

SUNDAY, MAY 8, 1200hrs, GREEN TURTLE CAY

The Admiral arrives! Assuredly, I am the Captain of Alliance; Caroline, her Admiral. In most cases, admirals do not sail in with their fleet. They typically fly in and meet the fleet upon arrival. Caroline is no different in this regard.

After departing Charleston and a two hour layover in Miami, Caroline boarded her one hour flight to Marsh Harbor. From there, she took a taxi and a ferry ride to Green Turtle Cay. Safe and sound. Our vacation begins!

MONDAY, MAY 9, GREEN TURTLE CAY

Settling in and signing in.

By 10 a.m. on Monday the line to see the customs officer was ten deep. Sailors of all experience levels were scratching their heads, dumbfounded by this new system the Bahamian government had just put in place. It was several hours in the sun to finally clear, and once I did, I felt like I had just received a master’s degree in Customs Management. Everyone in line was very friendly and helpful. In the end, it all made sense to us, as we all walked away with new friends. If you are going to fly or sail a private vessel to the Bahamas, do your homework. Everything is done online now through click2clear.com. Know this site well.

Exploring GTC. Finally, the adventure begins. GTC is one of the bigger cays, so a golf cart is helpful here.

First stop: New Plymouth - a quaint town in the outer Abacos settled in the 1700s by Loyalists fleeing American colonies during the Revolutionary War. With its winding streets and pastel-colored, stucco buildings, it’s rich with history in its Bahamian, English and American colonial architecture.

Next stop: Miss Emily’s Blue Bee Bar for an infamous Goombay Smash! The famous drink originated here at Miss Emily’s and I was warned against drinking more than two. Yes, they are delicious. And strong! Though I’ve heard stronger in With a number of small and cozy restaurants and bars, there is a lot to talk about in New Plymouth. On beautiful Gilliam Bay, we had the cove to ourselves with sugar-fine white sand and crystal clear waters to swim.

TUESDAY, MAY 10, NO NAME CAY

Swimming with the pigs.

The plan was to sail Alliance to No Name Cay, anchor out, dinghy in, snorkel and swim with the Cay’s world famous swimming pigs. The Admiral had a better idea. Let’s hire a captain on a small boat and let them take us. Sold! So off we went with Captain Jason on his smallish, wooden fishing boat. How nice not to be at the helm.

After a stop at a nearby coral reef for amazing snorkeling, we pulled up the anchor and headed to Big O’s Bar on No Name. When we arrived, we shared the beach with pigs, and only the pigs. Another scrumptious fish burger and beer later, we gathered up our leftovers and a couple of cut up apples we had brought with us and headed down to the beach to say “hello” to the pigs.

If you read reviews on the swimming pigs you will get a wide range of opinions. You do feed the pigs at your own risk as they can be assertive, but we absolutely loved our time in the water with them. As we spent more time with our newfound friends, more people arrived by boat. We had so much fun that many people thought us to be part of the act. True pig whisperers, we are.

WEDNESDAY, MAY 11 AND THURSDAY, MAY 12, GREEN TURTLE CAY

Stuck in paradise. As aforementioned, the velocity of the wind and the direction of the wind and the current are very important when traveling by sailboat. Thus, the reason we were stranded on GTC for a couple of extra days. Out of all the islands in the Abacos, especially since the devastation of the last major hurricane, GTC has a lot to see and do compared to some of the other Cays. This is not a good or a bad thing as each and every Cay has its own flavor. GTC is also somewhat isolated from the rest of the Abaco Cays to the south by a pass called Whale Cay Cut. Whale Cut is basically an inlet that separates the Abaco Islands from the Atlantic Ocean. When the winds are blowing 20 knots and out of the north, Whale Cay Cut is not a good idea, so we sat back and took in all GTC had to offer.

FRIDAY MAY 13, 1200hrs, ELBOW CAY

What better day than Friday the 13th to make our way through the north passage dreaded Whale Cay Cut and onward towards Elbow Cay? Just the night before, the wind had shifted back to the SE, so I thought “why not?” The waves were still up a bit when we closed in on the cut. With the waves on our nose, Alliance effortlessly took the pass. Watching other boats running with the waves in the opposite direction made me glad to be going in the direction we were headed. The south pass of Whale Cut was not nearly as bad and the waves following were much smaller than on the north end.

Opening into the cerulean waters of the Abaco Sea, where the water was so clear you could see the shadow of the mast on the sea bed, a dolphin appeared as our guide. After a few more hours of sailing, we bypassed Great Guana Cay and Man-O-War Cay to visit Hope Town on Elbow Cay. With a chance of rain looming, we thought we would just ride out the weather in Hope Town.

Arriving just before high tide, we slid easily into Hope Town Harbour and picked up a mooring ball from the Hope Town Marina and Inn. This, along with a small fee, allowed us usage of the showers and pool. Famous for its red and white striped lighthouse, Hope Town is full of things to do and places to see, but even after three years since Hurricane Dorian, some of what is advertised still has not re-opened. This is true throughout the Abaco Islands, but definitely not a reason to stay away.

Elbow Cay is a very long cay, so a golf cart is a good idea when exploring. We rented bikes and were able to sneak in a great workout. Some of the places to explore: Elbow Reef Lighthouse, Wyannie Malone Historical Museum, Cap’n Jack’s, Hope Town Canvas, On Da Beach Bar and Restaurant, Grabbers, Firefly Bar and Grill and so much more.

SATURDAY, MAY 14, MAN-O-WAR CAY

Man-O-War Cay was one of my favorite places to visit. A very cozy cay on a rocky spit of land, it is most known for its boat building legacy. Founded in 1798 as one of the early Loyalist settlements in The Abacos, its residents started farming the land. In 1820, a shipwrecked sailor named Benjamin Albury met Eleanor Archer, who worked on a farm. They married in 1821. Over 200 years later the family traditions continue with a population of around 300, most of whom are their direct descendants.

Caroline and I walked the entire island. We paid a visit to the local museum and bought a couple of really great bags at Aubury’s Sail Shop. The people there were very friendly and we struck up fascinating conversation with the lady shopkeepers. Walking along the bluff, there was a breathtaking sight of the Abaco Sea and open ocean, all within the same view.

SUNDAY, MAY 15, - MON, MAY 16, GREAT GUANA CAY

Snorkel, drink and dine. When you rise with the sun, you get to experience a lot of the islands all before the bars even open. We arrived the night of the 14th and woke up to a beautiful sunrise. Grabbing our backpacks and snorkel attire, we set out on foot. It was Sunday morning and we figured everything would be closed. Walking the area around the harbor, we made our way to a section of the beach just down from Nippers. Earlier that day we saw some waves breaking just off the beach and figured it was a reef. We swam out about 100 yards to find a pristine coral reef, spending an hour or more swimming and exploring the many fish and coral growing just below the surface. Afterward, we spread out our blankets and enjoyed the virgin white sand beach with not a single human in either direction for miles. Glorious!

We marveled, noticing that the only footprints on the beach were ours. This was the rule rather than the exception throughout our travels. After a quick nap, we gathered our belongings and walked the quarter mile to a no open Nippers Bar and Grill. We settled in and met new friends of all ages. Caroline noticed a black storm cloud on the horizon. Her: “Do you think that’s heading our way?” Me: “No, definitely not, can’t be. We just ordered our food. And besides, the boat is wide open. I left all the ports and hatches open to air her out.”

Minutes later, we, along with everyone else, were huddled under a small awning over the bar, hiding from the downpour. Alliance’s interior got a good soaking. We rationalized that it was only noon, so once we got back to the boat, we could take out all the cushions, pillows, bedding and towels and let them air dry on deck. It wasn’t the proudest moment for Alliance, but by late afternoon everything was dry again.

If Nippers is the place to party during the day on the beach, where to watch the sunset and paddleboard in the bay is Grabbers.

The great thing about Great Guana Cay - all the cays, for that matter - is that the mooring balls run around $20 a night. With a golf cart rental at $45 USD, you can basically stay three nights, rent a golf cart for a day and spend just over a hundred dollars for your entire stay, which helps offset the pricey food. On average, it is hard for two people to back away from the table for less than a C-note, tip included, which makes sense when you consider the logistics.

TUESDAY, MAY 17, MARSH HARBOUR

After a couple of fun-filled days on Great Guana, we set sail for Marsh Harbour, and the conclusion of our visit. We stayed at the very posh Abaco Beach Resort and Marina. A clas- sic destination established in 1955, it is the only place in all of the Abacos where we just relaxed by the pool. We did go into town to resupply the boat for the return trip to Charleston, but other than a closed art gallery, there was little to see or explore in town in the aftermath of Hurricane Dorian.

WED, MAY 18, HOMEWARD BOUND

After clearing Customs and a big breakfast, I left Caroline in Marsh Harbour and set sail for Charleston.

Caroline’s flight was set to depart early afternoon, while my departure, by sea, depended on favorable weather conditions. I figured if I had three days of undesirable weather I’d kick back and visit a few more cays. But as fate would have it, my weather window was perfect for a quick three-day return trip to Charleston’s harbor. I set sail at 0800 on Wednesday.

My course took me back to Man-O-War Cay and through the cut just north of the Cay. There was zero wind on Wednesday, so I spent the first thirty hours of the return trip motoring. My goal was to get into the gulf stream and ride the magic carpet back home before my four-day weather window turned against me. Off we flew, Alliance and I, just a boy and his boat on the final leg of our journey.

All is well until it isn’t. The daylight hours were uneventful but as the sun began to set, so did my autopilot. I would set it for the course I needed to steer and off it would go. I spent hours trying to figure out what suddenly went wrong and finally came to the conclusion that I need to reset the damn thing in the middle of the Atlantic, the wind now behind me and increasing.

But here’s the thing: if I reset the autopilot and could not recommission the thing then I would be forced to hand steer Alliance for the next 72 hours. Some of what is required when recommissioning an auto pilot is done at the dock. No docks to be seen for about 30 miles, so I faked it. I dropped all the sails, stuck the boat into the wind and did the dockside commissioning. After three attempts it took! This called for a shot of rum. Crisis averted.

The next 72 hours we saw the wind at our back and a following sea. I had stitched my 140 genoa back together and my repairs were holding as we flew downwind and in the stream at 8 knots. The closer I got to Charleston, the higher the waves and faster the wind. The last evening, we sailed at 20 knots with a following sea, tossing us around a bit. Nothing my girl and I couldn’t handle. On the third day, I couldn’t wait for dawn. I imagined the sun coming up and seeing the bridge and the lighthouses. That wasn’t quite the case, but by 0800 hours, there she was, and by 1030 hours we were back in our slip off Patriot’s Point, ready for our next adventure.