Pipe Cay

Ooooozy, oooozy mud.

We had a fast sail from the anchorage outside Warderick Wells down to Pipe Cay. The anchorage is next to a private island. We thought that the area might have good fishing and conching because it is just south of the Exuma Land and Sea Park. The fishing didn't pan out, but we found a Cay with some trails that led to the Atlantic side where we found lots of periwinkles. These snails come jumbo-sized here.

The last time we were here, we asked some locals whether they eat those and were told that they don't eat them. It seems that they may have been holding out on us because some cruising friends told us that they are really good eating. You can use them like you would clams and Matt cooked up an amazing chowder. Preparation is a bit involved but the end result was delicious (especially when you're not the one cleaning and cooking them and scraping the bits off your shirt).

To get to the periwinkles, we had to tromp across a mud field that suctioned our shoes off and slimed our feet and ankles. Twice. It was one of those experiences that is unpleasant yet fun.

The winds have been strong and almost right on our nose as we have sailed south from Allen's.  With the reasonably calm seas on the banks side we had a fast sail to Black Point, even if we had to throw in a tack to get there.  Since the winds are veering further south, we may have to wait a bit in Black Point (we skipped Staniel Cay this year on our way down) for better winds to make it to George Town.

Norman's Cay and Warderick Wells

After leaving Allen's we headed down to Norman's Cay on the Exuma sound side.  We were hoping to troll through the deep waters and catch something tasty, but we only caught tangled fishing lines of epic proportions when we changed direction a bit too rapidly. 

The inner anchorage at Norman's puts you in a channel where there is good protection from the winds, but a brisk current runs through and reverses every 6 hours.  We heard there was good conching, so we headed out towards "the pond" with mollusks on our minds.  After searching high and low for over an hour and a half and not seeing a single conch, we started thinking that the tales of good conch were simply a joke to pull on the newbies like us and that the veterans were laughing their heads off as we zipped here and there in the dingy, stopping only to stick our heads over the side. 

Just as we were about to give up, we saw a conch.  And then another.  And then we were in a patch where there was a big conch every square foot or so.  It didn't take long to grab our allotted six and head back to the boat.  Cracked conch and conch salad were on the menu that night.   

Last year we skipped Warderick Wells, in the Exumas Land and Sea Park, because it seemed too crowded and the weather wasn't right. We're glad we made it this time because there were so many things we hadn't seen before in the Bahamas (or anywhere). We don't have any snorkeling pictures but we saw a grouper the size of the boys and enormous lobsters under almost every rock.

The trails and terrain are spectacular.

Sanctioned cruiser graffiti on Boo Boo Hill.

 

 

The blow holes were only blowing air this time but still made

quite an impression.

 

 

Murphy's Hideaway

 

Hutia love: These cat-sized rodents are endangered

 (but not on Warderick where the trails  and rocks are

literally covered with Hutia poop-pellets).

Nightmare Anchorage in Lizard Town

People that live on land (in other words, almost everybody in the world) usually don't worry about their houses moving in the middle of the night. When you're sleeping on an anchored boat, there is no such luxury. We met one couple in the boatyard in Beaufort, North Carolina that had sold everything to move aboard their boat and then less than a year later decided it wasn't for them and threw in the towel. The main reason they gave was that they were never able to sleep well while at anchor due to worry. Of course, you can try and reduce the stress with good equipment and good planning,  But don't think that just because you buy the best anchor setup that your problems are solved. The rub is that even if you do everything right, other boats can drag into you.

We witnessed a bad anchorage perfect storm of sorts when we were holed up at Allen's Cay to seek shelter from some developing storms and strong west winds. We had a spot in the cove at Southwest Allen's Cay that is big enough for one boat but left us swinging within 40 feet of big, jagged rocks on two sides and right next to a very shallow beach on the other. The main anchorage was pretty full when we got there and boats kept arriving as the sun crept down. Everyone knew the forecast and this was a neighborhood where there are precious few spots to hunker down. As darkness fell there were probably 20 boats anchored in the two small channels that made up the anchorage.

The squalls came through around 2 a.m., as forecasted. At the height of the storm the wind speed indicator showed 45 to 50 knots for about 10 minutes and briefly topped out at 60 knots at one point (our gauge is at the top of the mast and the wind may have been a few knots lower at sea level). We were keeping a sharp eye on our location and were relieved that our anchor was holding and keeping us from smashing into the rocks. The water we tried to collect in buckets didn't fill up because the wind kept blowing the heavy rains sideways.

In the meantime, we could hear over the VHF radio the chaos at the main anchorage. One boat was dragging into another boat and refusing to do anything about it. Two boats had been blown sideways and grounded on the shoal.  Another one was dragging anchor and floating off through the back channel. A charter boat ended up on Iguana Beach. Fortunately, after all the dust cleared, it seemed that there was no major damage. 

Talking anchors is a bit like talking religion and people have strong opinions. After spending almost every night at anchor over the last year and surviving strong winds and rough anchorages with all kinds of bottoms without dragging, I'm ready to jump into the fray with a plug (uncompensated and with no hidden agenda) for our Mantus anchor. We love it. Yeah, we love it so much maybe we WILL marry it. It's held well all up and down the eastern seaboard and done everything we could ask of it.  Of course, part of the reason is that it's a bit oversized for our boat (105 pounds). It is fairly unmanageable without a working windlass and along with the 300 feet of chain makes the bow of the boat tip forward a bit when our water and fuel tanks edge toward empty. But that's a price we're willing to pay for sleeping more soundly at night.  Now if everyone else would just get a Mantus (or an anchor that works just as well), we would sleep even better.

[Complains, whines, takes a brief break from complaining...]

When Mark and Conrad play stuffed animals, they verbally script out dialog for each other, including stage direction for the appropriate emotional response ("gets angry", "makes frowny face", "stomps off"). Hence the title of this blog post.

We finally got our raw water pump the day after it was supposed to arrive, for which we were relatively happy. It was $115 to get it from Florida to Spanish Wells and clear it through Bahamian customs (the cost to ship it overnight within the States was only $20). And we managed to avoid the steep 40% import duty which would have added a couple hundred more dollars because we were a "vessel in transit" with a cruising permit and the pump was "critical" to the ship's propulsion.  So there's a big reason to keep as many spares as you can on board. Matt put in the pump and tested it--no leaks, yea! We fired up the engines and everything seemed to be working as expected. Even though there was lots of fixing and reworking, it seemed like it was all under control. Now when things break, it seems that Matt has a pretty good handle on what to do. Some expertise even. Swoosh, nothing but net.

Now, where were we?  Oh yeah, expertise...and that's when the port engine sputtered and died. Over the next few hours and then days as we left Spanish Wells and headed for the Exumas, Matt would bleed air from the lines and the engine would run fine. For a spell. And then it would take on more air and die out. Every now and then the starboard engine would vie for attention and sputter out as well. It seemed that Matt's moving the fuel pump to be after the Racor filters introduced some air into the system somewhere. They're working fine for now but for awhile we held our collective breaths every time we motored somewhere (which was basically all the way from Spanish Wells because of the lack of wind).

So even though there was no wind predicted for a few days, we decided to motor over to the top of the Exumas.  We figured being stuck at anchor for a few days in a place where we could fish and forage was better than being stuck someplace where we couldn't. Besides, we could test out the engines a bit more.  So off we went.  First stop was Ship's Channel Cay, where our friends on Good Trade promised us lobsters crawling all over the reef.  Apparently they shot all the stupid ones because there were none to be seen when we arrived. 

The next days there were squalls predicted so we had to find an anchorage with protection from the west/southwest. Our two options were Allen's Cay, just around the corner, and Norman's Cay, further south. We decided to wander past Allen's, even though there were a whole boat load of masts sticking up. We had just made the decision that the anchorage was too crowded and were continuing on to Norman's when we noticed a mast moving above the rocks that now blocked the view of the anchorage.  The lone boat that was occupying southwest Allen's Cay (where there's room for one boat, and only one boat) was leaving and we slid right in. Even better, our friends from Shambala happened to be there as well. We have been having a great time fishing and hanging out with several kid boats in the anchorage: Shambala, Quartet, and Shamrock.

Spanish Wells Haul Out

Clearly, we love being hauled out. Why else would be doing it just three months after the last time? At least this time our engine didn't stick in reverse and almost make us crash into nearby boats. So we have that going for us, which is nice. And our repair didn't compare to the damage to this boat sustained.  She was on the lift when we arrived in Spanish Wells the first time (sooooo long ago it seems).

 



The wooden platform at R & B Boatyard that lifted us out of the water is much different than the humongous travel lifts that we are used to. Basically you pull in over a big submerged platform that is then lifted up, with the boat on top.  One of the boatyard owners (Robert, the "R" of R&B) dove down underneath the boat while the platform was being raised, to make sure everything was aligned and okay. We were successfully hauled out, but I think we were pushing the limits of the apparatus both in size and weight. There was only about 10 inches of clearance on either side of the boat. Then the winching motor shut down while we were being lifted but fortunately was able to be restarted.

Up on the lift we had a great view of Spanish Wells. We were a bit higher up than our last haul out. It seemed especially high because we had to climb to the deck boat instead of just the bottom of  the swim step and the narrowness of the dock made for a very vertical ladder.  But the boys handled it well and no one took flight.

 

Fortunately, the area to be repaired dried out quickly and the team at R & B efficiently and expertly completed the fix. We were in and out in less than 2 full days at a very reasonable cost. We were pretty pleased with that part of the situation.

 

Unfortunately, there were complications (there always are). Matt had also taken this opportunity to try and repair our starboard raw water pump (the thing that pumps the water to cool our engine) with a kit that R & B had been nice enough to get for us. It had been leaking sea water, which as you might have guessed is not desirable on a boat. After a local machine shop replaced the seals, the pump was leaking even worse than before. Apparently the shaft of the pump has some pitting.  So we are currently waiting for a new pump shipped from the States. The last we heard, the part was on a plane in Governors Harbour and could make it here today. Or not.

 

Then yesterday morning, we turned on the generator to make up for the relative lack of sun we have had. The freezer and fridge have been running full tilt to make up for being off for the couple days we were hauled. The generator ran for a bit and then began sputtering under load, like it wasn't getting enough fuel.

 

After hearing it almost die several times, Matt turned it off and began troubleshooting again for the ten thousandth time since owning the boat. Maybe I'll get used to it one of these days, but every time something goes wrong I imagine the worst. It turns out that the small 12V fuel pump (our second in about a year on this side of the boat) was all clogged up with gunk. Matt spent the day reworking the fuel manifold and putting the pump after the Racor filters instead of in front of them. This should help protect the new pump (luckily we had a spare). When he fired up the generator and it started humming like normal, we all cheered. The silver lining is that the pump didn't die while we were maneuvering in close quarters and we were able to get another back-up pump here in town (albeit at a 50% mark-up from the States). Today Matt reworked the pumps and filters on the port side as well.

 

All in all, Spanish Wells is a great place to be stuck. It's clean, friendly, scenic, and full of amenities (including great homemade ice-cream from random houses). We have been able to get groceries, fill our propane tank, and do some laundry. Try as I might, I can't complain too much.

Current score: Beach Treasures-1, Minimalism-0

Some jewelry I made, along with some beach treasures.

When we first moved aboard, I was solidly in the mindset of shedding possessions and keeping our new home clutter-free. Even with Lego scattered everywhere and a million stuffed animals crowding the boys' beds, I was positive that this was an attainable and desirable goal.

So when we would go to the beach and Mark and Conrad would find treasures everywhere, I was the shell Nazi and refused to let them bring anything back to the boat. It wasn't long before they wore me down and I let them bring just one piece home, then three, and somewhere along the line it became a free-for-all. Now that the novelty of every single common seashell has worn off, Conrad is more discriminating. Mark on the other hand wants to bring home every broken shell that looks like a potato chip or arrow.

I realize now that my zero tolerance policy for natural clutter was not only ill-fated. It was also a bad idea. Part of the fun and value of having the boys live so close to the natural world is being able to touch it and examine it at length. My need for order will have to take a back seat for awhile. Of course, a lot of stuff does get "lost" overboard after it has lived on our boat for awhile and it is never missed. In the meantime, it is loved intensely and then forgotten.

 

There has been another assault on my philosophy of owning less, which was more unexpected. Recently, the goal-oriented part of myself that has ruled for most of my existence has found an outlet in jewelry making that incorporates some of our beach finds. I normally don't wear much jewelry and gave away most of what I had before moving onto the boat. But I like transforming broken pieces of shell into something useful and my brain and fingers like having a definitive task to work on. Besides, I may not keep it all. After all, Conrad has offered to be my business manager and says he wants to sell what I'm making.