Log 4: Crossing the Gulf Stream & Headed to Nassau

Things started out smooth, but then turned “sporty” (as some sailors would say), quick.

*Quick note – ok, we are behind in updates, but catching up! No service where we are now (obviously when this was written), so there may a bit of a blast of info at once. But should all smooth out… unlike this anchorage we’re currently in*

After several weeks of being rafted up to our buds on S/V Cloudburst in Boca Raton Florida, we managed to fix up the overheating issues with our diesel engine. We finished our last-minute preparations, and admittedly, had a hella lota fun doing it. It was refreshing to spend time with dear friends we hadn’t seen in a while. However, it was time to depart. What seemed to be a decent “weather window” opened, and it looked to be the last chance for another week or so. It was time.

We rolled out of bed around 5 am to get ready for our 7 am departure from Boca Raton. Last hugs goodbye, warming up the engine, and tossing off the lines, lead us to a pleasant sunrise motor out of the canal and out to sea.

Making our way east over the Atlantic, things were going smooth. We even tossed out our Cuban yoyo hand line to see if we could catch dinner. We turned on some jams, leaned back in our seats, and shared views of our chart plotter’s track and, a rolling blue horizon.

And then, that “rolling blue horizon” got, really rollie.

The wind picked up.

Then, very, very rollie.

We pulled in the yoyo.

Here we go.

Four-foot waves were predicted across the Gulf Stream, and there were certainly 4 footers, but as the weather changed, sets of 6’ers began to come across our starboard (right) side. Several larger ones began to spray into the cockpit.

Waves increased. Wave periods shortened (the distance and time between wave crests). We were getting pounded nonstop, for hours. I saw our boat level gauge roll over to 50 degrees, repeatedly.

Too far from any land to make a dart before nightfall, we crossed our fingers for a break. I began to feel like shit. Usually, the night shift is my time to shine, being more the night-owl than Brendan. But nausea started to set in, and was doing all that I could, to hold it in. Oh the joy.

We prepared for 15-20 knots of wind out of the south, southwest. A great point of sail to cross the north flowing Gulf Stream. However, half way across, what we got was 25-30 knot winds. (30 knots = 35 mph). Poof.

Brendan was a rockstar, while I was unable to sleep, I hardly felt the strength to buck in the cockpit, and burrowed myself along our closest lee cloth down below. A bucket nearby. Amongst the worrisome sounds of clashing pans and items skating across drawers and floors, I managed to fall asleep sometime after 4:30 am.

Day two, I was still surprised by the waves, but as the day settled in, things started to lay down and the periods became longer (increasing from 95 ft to 1000 ft). It was much more pleasant. I snapped back into normal routine. Fixing us simple sandwiches and keeping watch while Brendan got some zzz’s. We passed many cargo and cruise ships along the way, the next more impressive in size than the previous.

We finally started to approach Nassau as the sun fell beneath the horizon. Obstructions in the water are a sneaky enemy. Since we hadn’t sailed here before, we knew it would be safer to hove-to offshore and wait for daylight. That way, we could keep a sharp eye out for shallow rocks, wrecked boats, tall coral heads, and anything else that could ruin us. It was my turn to stay up all night while Brendan caught up on rest. Besides being a lookout, some light reading passed the time while waiting on the morning.

Just before daylight Brendan came back up and I went below to nap before we approached the harbor channel.

Following behind a cruise ship we called to Nassau Harbor Control and entered the port. After a few laps around the anchorage, we finally found a suitable spot and dropped our anchor. We exhaled. But the process for entering the Bahamas by vessel wasn’t over yet. I grabbed our courtesy flags and we hoisted the yellow quarantine flag. Brendan departed on the dingy towards the Immigration Office as I stayed onboard and attempted to clean up our jumbled home.

It took awhile, but a little over an hour later Brendan had returned with two Immigration Officers with him.

They boarded, quiet and a bit stern at first, but after the first crack of a smile, they warmed up quick and were very friendly guys. We finished up our paperwork, they took photos of Belafonte, and we chatted about food recommendations. Bren took them back to the dock, and when he returned, we slept, hard.

We made it.

~ Day 27