A Different Perspective - by Ken Fickett

It has been a very interesting experience to track “Sea Glass” on SPOT and reading the Blog as she has made her way south. As the builder of Sea Glass, friend of the owner, employer of Eric, and father of Travis I have a seriously vested interest in seeing them all arrive successfully.

It was probably nearly four years ago that Travis and I were at Oshkosh for the biggest air show on earth when we discovered the SPOT Trackers being given away with the purchase of a one year service contract. That contract was pretty cheap, about 80 bucks or so as I recall, and I was hooked. Now I had real time info on exactly where a unit was and knew that the person carrying it could also trigger a “help” call if necessary. Trips such as the one Sea Glass is on have been much more heartburn-free than in the past.

Eric kept everybody pretty much up to speed on the trip until his departure from Sea Glass in the Turks and Caicos. Eric was replaced by Travis, my son, and that began the long wait for a reasonable weather window to head to the Dominican Republic. At the same time one of my old friends, Barry Terry, a retired British official with a bunch of ocean passage experience (and a DR resident), was contacted to help with making the passage and smoothing any potential issues with Dominican Customs and Immigration. That’s as good a team as you can get for this kind of trip. After nearly ten days of waiting, the guys finally got the weather window they were looking for and slipped around the west end of the Turks and Caicos headed south to Puerto Plata, Dominican Republic.

The SPOT system tracked flawlessly and it was nice to know at least the boat was moving along well. While in Provo (Turks and Caicos), Travis had been able to get the ICOM Single Sideband radio completely up and functional. This brand new weapon in Sea Glass’s communication arsenal allowed the guys to send and receive emails without being hooked up directly to the internet. They were also able to receive weather “faxes” from the radio that kept them abreast of moving fronts and sea conditions. A satellite phone was also available to connect them anywhere in the world and also to confer with Chris Parker, the very notable Caribbean weather forecaster and route planner.

Thirty-something hours later, Sea Glass arrived at Puerto Plata at the new Ocean World Marina (the marina showplace of the Dominican north coast.) In short order Mike and Fred were reunited with their wives who had flown into the DR in order to complete the trip with the guys. Clearing Customs, a great dinner, one night at the dock and it was off at 5PM the next day to make the long trip to Puerto Rico. Closely skirting the northern DR coast at night helped with sea conditions allowing Sea Glass to slide east past Samana and into the Mona Passage.

A few hours into the Mona Passage, typically one of the nastier crossings and also known for being one of the most heavily trafficked passages in the Caribbean – mostly in illegal immigrants going from the DR to Puerto Rico – the SPOT showed Sea Glass making a hard right hand turn. The turn caught my attention instantly as I watched the SPOT track unfold. But then SPOT went “dark” with no signal for several hours and my anxiety level clicked up a few notches. Finally the little orange icon popped up on the screen well south of the last signal and I blew a breath of relief.

From there on it was pretty basic; turn left at the south western tip of Puerto Rico and head East to Salinas on the south coast of PR. They dropped anchor in Salinas Harbour and began a Keystone Cops routine with Customs that I am going to leave to someone else to explain that was actually there.

Cell phone communications with Travis were excellent for much of the trip and the same was true in PR. That having been said it remains a mystery as to what went on when the guys tried to clear Customs, but it apparently precipitated a trip to “downtown” for Barry – the only “foreigner” on board. I hear that the food was great and all was well until everyone returned to the boat and discovered that the air conditioners were all inoperative. Just when I thought all was well and I was sound asleep, at 11:35PM, my phone rang and it was Travis asking for advice on troubleshooting the system. I guess whatever I said made sense to him, or not. Regardless, he called me back at midnight (gee thanks son!) to tell me that the A/C was now operational and all was well.

The next day the Sea Glass crew was off to Culebra, an island a little east of PR and one of the Spanish Virgin Islands with a colorful history. At this point the trip became a tour of the islands that Michael had come this far for. Caribbean Islands just a stones throw away from each other – one more beautiful then the next.

It has been great fun tracking the guys and talking when possible. My son, Travis, has been excited about the opportunity Michael gave him to come along and has managed to one up his “old man”. Congrats to all for a job well done.

Parting Company...Chapter 2

Eric all packed and waiting for the taxi

Sunday, May 9, 2010. Eric returned home today after helping us with a wonderful cruise from Green Cove Springs, FL to Provo. We thank him for his good company and patience helping two senior citizens trying to learn how to do it right. Sea Glass has not yet continued on her journey as we are waiting for a favorable weather window. We are also waiting for Travis to join us on Tuesday. He will be fine-tuning the electronics as we continue our cruise to the BVIs. As we wait, we take care of household maintenance and enjoy the tropical sun and breezes. Cell service and intermittent Internet are available so we also get the opportunity to catch up on news from home and extend long distance Mothers Day wishes. Tomorrow, we explore the island and hopefully report back on points of interest. There are supposed to be some beautiful beaches and state parks not too far from here - well, I guess on a 38 square-mile island, NOTHING is particularly far. But we’ll find out.


Sea Glass tucked in to wait out the weather

Monday, May 10, 2010. We heard from our weather router, Chris Parker, this morning. The news is that we should plan to stay in place for one week unless we want to deal with 10-12’ swells. We don't. So we rented a car for the week and are practicing driving on the wrong side of the road. I can think of worse places to get stranded.

Provo? Eh, not so much.

Tiki Hut at Turtle Cove, Provo

Sea Glass at her slip in Turtle Cove Marina

So, here we are tied up at Turtle Cove Marina on the north coast of the island of Providenciales (Provo), Turks & Caicos Islands, British West Indies. I have always heard what a phenomenally beautiful place this is – a real “don’t miss”. And I guess if we had not just toured some of the most beautiful islands of the Bahamas, I might feel that way too. But quite frankly, so far it plays a distinct second fiddle to places like Staniel or Highbourne Cays in the Exumas or even Little Harbour and Hope Town in the Abacos.

At some point in the recent past (maybe before the American economy collapsed?) there was a bunch of money pumped into construction here, with upscale shopping “town centers”, incredible condos and luxury hotels.  Pretty much looks like an offshore version of Boca Raton, if you ask me. Of course, most of those beautiful storefronts and condos are sitting empty with “for sale or rent” signs on them. We walked around a very upscale shopping area today – and there were probably only 8 other tourists doing the same. Sad.

Then there are the dive boats. I guess there must be some incredible diving here, because there are about 10 dive boats in just this one marina! From a 110’ liveaboard gonzo dive boat – the “Turks & Caicos Aggressor” to a fleet of 35-footers, and even one “semi-submarine” - whatever that is - glass bottom maybe?

Still, the ocean waters are beautiful (when you can see them through the forest of condos) and the people seem friendly enough. The Tiki Hut and Sharkbites Bar are hoppin’ and the temperature is perfect. So, I am definitely not complaining here!

Unfortunately, my ”summer camp” ticket is about punched out and I have to fly back to reality tomorrow. Michael and Fred will be here in Provo for at least a few more days waiting for a weather window to allow them to cross to the Dominican Republic – next stop on the agenda. Hopefully, Great Harbour’s I.T. guy (and Ken’s son) Travis will be flying in to take my place as excess baggage aboard Sea Glass. One of his primary responsibilities will be to get the brand-new and very expensive Single Sideband HF radio to work properly and receive e-mails, weatherfaxes, etc. I have certainly failed miserably in my attempts to figure it out thus far.

Michael will be taking over blogging duties. So, from now on, I will just have to experience the trip vicariously like all of you reading this. Oh well. It has been a fantastic trip and I am sure it will only get better as Michael and Fred travel along the coasts of the Dominican Republic, Puerto Rico, the Spanish Virgin Islands and on to Tortola. Thanks for everything Michael.

Island Eric

Passage to the Turks & Caicos

Our Mahi doesn't fit into the cooler!

We dropped our lines at the very unexciting Exumas Docking Services docks in George Town, Great Exuma and headed out the notoriously tricky southeast channel. We were looking at about a 35-hour run to get to Providenciales in the Turks & Caicos before the forecast rough weather socked us in.

After clearing the Exuma reef opening, we set our course to take us past the tip of Long Island (Cape St. Marie) and on past Rum Key, Cat Island, Little San Salvador, Samana, Acklins, Crooked Island, Mayaguana, and finally, across the Caicos Passage to Provo (Providenciales), the major island in the Turks & Caicos chain, where we would stage for the big crossing to the Dominican Republic.

We really had planned to spend a night at Rum Cay. Why? Because we hadn’t been there, of course - and because, well, who DOESN'T want to visit a place called Rum Cay?  But, because we were running a bit behind schedule we decided to try to make it all the way to Provo in one shot. Plus, our weather router was telling us that we had fair cruising weather until Saturday night, then everything was going to go bad for the better part of a week. We definitely didn’t want to become stranded on some no-name cay without working phones, computers, 50-amp power, or nice bars.  Now, our weather router, Chris Parker, was also telling us that we should plan our route to pass NORTH of the Samana Cays in order to avoid some forecast higher seas, but, again, I ignored his advice and charted the much more direct course, which would take us SOUTH of Samana.

At first, the weather was pretty benign – 2’-3’ sea quartering on the bow and a nice gentle ride. But, about one in the morning, the seas just past Acklins started to pick up - right about where Chris told us they would.  So we dealt with a harsh ride right into the teeth of the seas for the rest of the night, with the wind and waves dying down just a bit at daybreak.  However, as Chris warned, the rest of the passage would turn out to be anything but comfortable.  Next time, I vow to heed the advice of our professional weather router!

We had excellent luck with our fishing, however:  Just past the tip of Long Island, we caught a nice, big Wahoo. We took some pictures and reluctantly released him back in to the sea. I just couldn’t figure out how we were going steak this big fish with the tiny knives we had aboard the boat. Plus, Wahoo doesn’t keep very well and freezing it doesn’t help the flavor either – what we were really looking for was that elusive Mahi Mahi.


Decided to throw this beautiful Wahoo back...

So, Fred changed from our red and black Wahoo Slayer lure to a pink Mahi lure and a couple hours later he horsed a very nice 15 lb. cow aboard. The fish sure made a mess of the cockpit with all the thrashing, but I finally got it into a cooler of ice for a while so I could gut, skin and filet the now dead fish. We ended up with 10 substantial filets and bagged them in threes, kept one bag out for dinner in Provo and froze the rest. We were done fishing for this trip!

We only saw a couple boats on our journey– three sailboats passed very closely to us just before midnight and were gone into the night. But we did log quite a bit more cool wildlife. The phosphorescence in the water that was stirred up by our bow wake was phenomenal. It truly looked like the frothy, churning wave was on fire. Beautiful.

Then, about halfway across the Caicos Passage, we passed a large school of black Pilot Whales. Alas, it was so rough and we were so mesmerized by them, by the time we got a camera out they were gone and past us. They were followed closely by a big shark (Oceanic White Tip, I think) that swam right under our bow in the crystal clear water.

Lastly, as we approached Provo, a school of tiny porpoises surrounded us. I am not positive of the species (pretty sure that they were Harbor Porpoises) – but they were cute as hell.

Back to our travels: As we passed to the south of Mayaguana, the seas notched up to about 4’ or so. Still very doable, if a little uncomfortable, but as we passed the tip of Mayaguana this afternoon and entered the 35-mile-wide Caicos Passage, the wind piped up and we were getting rocked continuously by 6’ beam seas. Ugh. Falling off to port or starboard would have worked okay, but we didn’t have time. We needed to be at the entrance to the very tricky, coral head-strewn, mile-long channel into Turtle Cove Marina on the north shore of Provo before they closed at 6pm so they could send a pilot boat out to guide us through the coral.

So, we were stuck dealing with really uncomfortable beam waves for about 5 hours. Let me tell you, these babies were flat rocking our world. We were all really ready when it was finally time to dock, check in with Customs, have a few coldies (wait, no, the coldies came RIGHT after docking), shower, and pay the local marina rats to wash the salt off of Sea Glass for us.

We cooked up a mess of those very fresh Mahi filets along with some baked potatoes and salad. A veritable feast. Now it’s off to the Tiki Bar here at the marina for a beer - maybe two, but we are all completely exhausted, so it might just be the one this time!

George Town

Michael and Fred at the Peace & Plenty bar

Beautiful Anglican church in George Town

Today began as most recent days have: Alarm clocks go off at 6, we muddle through our engine room checks, boot all the electronics up, warm up the diesels, cast off and head south at 6:30am. A beautiful morning evolved into a beautiful day as we crossed from the shallow Exuma bank into the Atlantic Ocean and continued south for George Town – our last stop on the Exumas chain.

Today was “fishing day”. It seemed we hooked a fish every half hour or so. Of course, after a few barracudas and large mackerels, we were kind of hoping for something that we could filet for dinner.  Yeah, we could have kept a big mackerel – but no - we wanted a decent-sized Mahi. It just didn’t happen today. We did have something big hit the lure and strip out a bunch of line. But he jumped half out of the water once and shook the hook. Still not sure what he was – but I couldn’t reel him in! So, we will continue our quest for fresh fish filets on our journey tomorrow.

Anyway, we cruised in to George Town, capital of the Exumas, at about 3:30pm and tied up next to one of the rickety docks at Exuma Docking Services. It’s not very picturesque here at the “marina” – but it was easier than anchoring, putting the dink into the water, and going into town that way. Literally hundreds of cruisers winter here in George Town every year.  They crowd nearly all the available anchorages and have their own little cliquey society with bingo games, volleyball, pot luck dinners, etc. Although the water is beautiful, the town sure ain't much to look at.  I'm really not sure of the whole appeal when the rest of the Exumas are fabulous.

Anyway, Fred bought some new fishing lures to help snare the elusive Mahi Mahis, Michael went to buy some internet time, and I cut my finger open on the door jamb of the pilothouse. Of course, we all still managed to meet up at the Peace & Plenty bar at the very pink Peace & Plenty Hotel. A few cold Kalik Lights (do you notice a recurring theme here?), some interesting conversation with Lermon, the bartender, and several seriously inebriated customers – and it was time to wander into the dining room for dinner.


The view from our dinner table at the Peace & Plenty

Dinner was nice and the view was terrific. But, we were all bushed and so headed back to the boat before 8. The plan for tomorrow is to rise at our usual witching hour, cast off, and head non-stop to the Turks & Caicos – at least a 32-hour trip. We have been forecast fair winds and calm seas for the next few days, so it is time to put some serious miles behind us. We expect to make landfall at Providenciales around noon on Friday. So there won’t be any blog updates until then.

Finally, I just couldn't resist adding another swimming pig pic!

Pigs, grottos and...paradise found

Sea Glass at the Staniel Cay Yacht Club docks

Fred & Michael enjoy a coldie at Staniel Cay's funky

little bar after the run south from Highbourne Cay

We reluctantly left the beautiful Highbourne Cay Marina at our usual ungodly hour of 6:30am. Our plan for today basically consisted of running down the shallow, western "banks" side of the northern Exumas to Staniel Cay. I had heard so much about Staniel over the years that I really wanted to stop there. Besides, there was no way we would make the additional 60 miles into Georgetown during daylight. So it was an obvious place to stop, right?

We docked at Staniel Cay Yacht Club in early afternoon. I have to tell you, I absolutely love the Abacos, but I have never seen water so crystal clear as that of the Exumas. Everywhere you look - it looks like a screensaver! Can't wait to see how cool the purple underwater lights on Sea Glass look tonight in the clear seas.



Sea Glass' underwater lights reveal a resting nurse shark

As soon as we got tied up, we watched the fish cleaning guys tossing scraps to about a dozen hungry nurse sharks. Then we made a bee-line to the bar/restaurant for some ice cold Kalik Lights and lunch. In that order. Staniel Cay Yacht Club is exactly what you think of in your mind's eye when you think of a Caribbean Beach Bar. Cheeseburgers in paradise. Oh yeah.

On top of the beauty and total laid-back-ness of the place, there are also some pretty cool sights to see. So after lunch we launched the dink and went exploring - with apple chunks and spray cheese (I'll explain in a minute.)

Big Major's Spot is a medium-sized island about a quarter mile from Staniel. We circumnavigated the island, stopping once to let Michael and Fred go swimming in the unbelievably clear water.  But what we were really looking for was about 3/4 of the way around the island on the west side. The famous swimming pigs.

I really haven't a clue how the chubby little oinkers ended up on this desolate island, but there are about 10 of them and they swim like Labrador Retrievers. In fact, if you don't come to them, they'll swim right out to your boat and complain loudly for you to toss them some goodies. Hence the apple chunks. We were suddenly very popular with the pigs. Then we ran out of apples and - like strippers when you run out of dollar bills - they headed off - to another dinghy full of gullible tourists like us!


The famous swimming pigs of Big Major's Spot...

...or were THESE the famous swimming pigs?

I'm confused.

Staniel's other major claim to fame is that it was the site of location shooting for the 1964 James Bond movie, "Thunderball". A REAL James Bond movie - with the REAL James Bond - Sean Connery. One of the locations they used is this very cool grotto inside of a small island about a half-mile from the marina. Now known as Thunderball Grotto, you can swim into the underwater entrance or enter through an above water "crack" between two boulders. I chose to enter through the underwater entrance, of course.

Fred wasn't too keen on the grotto because he can't see a damn thing through a non-prescription dive mask - and he hates to swim with fins. Well, fins were not just an option here, they were mandatory, with about a three knot current ripping past the cave. Then, neither pair of fins we had on the dink fit Michael's feet either - so it was just me going it alone with the grotto and the legendarily aggressive fish within.


Inside Thunderball Grotto - VERY James Bond

The seriously aggressive fish in the grotto

The grotto is unbelievable, with a soaring 50-foot ceiling covered with stalactites and pockmarked with holes that let sunlight stream inside. Around the perimeter are various small and large entrances at water level or below. But did I mention the aggressive fish? Hence the aerosol cheese whiz. Once again I was very popular with the locals. The cheese put all the resident Damselfish, Sergeant Majors, Queen Angels, Gray Angels, Spanish Hogfish and various Snappers and Groupers into a feeding frenzy. Right in my face! I mean, Damselfish are aggressive enough without spray cheese - but I am sure that this stuff must be the fish equivalent of "crack" - so they'll do anything to get it.  They even seemed to be trying to knock the container out of my hand.  Even if I did drop it, I am not sure how they would have gotten the cheese out - what, with having no opposable thumbs and all.

We got back to Sea Glass in time for some coldies on the flybridge, then took showers to get ready for dinner at the Yacht Club at 7. Now, I am supposed to mention Fred and Michael's wives that we are really roughing it on this trip.  Heck, the power is out right now as I write this. So, to Elsie and Ginger: Michael and Fred want you to know that this is a lot of work and not at all fun. Ahem. Sure.

Our plan for tomorrow is to finally cruise down to Georgetown and drop the anchor for a day so we can regroup and decide on the best plan for the next several legs of our voyage. I'll write more then!

Exuma by any other name...

The beach at Highbourne Cay Marina

Eric & Fred hangin' at Highbourne Marina (notice cold Coronas in hand)

Eagle Ray swimming out from under Sea Glass


We slipped our mooring and bid farewell to Hatchet Bay, Eleuthera at 6:30am. Our route plan for today included a 40-mile run down along the west coast of Eleuthera - and then punching out into the deep waters of Exuma Sound for the 35-mile crossing to Staniel Cay, Exumas. Once again, you gotta be sure to have a backup plan in case your primary one doesn't work out!

The first part of the trip went pretty much as we expected - 2' wavelets on the bow and gorgeous turquoise waters. Michael even put the fishing line out - but all he caught in the shallow bank waters was a small Barracuda. The excitement started as we passed Cape Eleuthera and started our crossing for Staniel.

At first, the 3-4' waves quartering on the bow were just a minor annoyance, but by now it was midday and the winds and seas were starting to pipe up. We were registering consistent 30-35mph winds and the waves quickly built to 5-6'   Michael and Fred were looking at me to come up with a Plan B pretty quickly, since none of us were really fans of the idea of "toughing" it out for the next 6 hours.

So, I glanced at the charts and suggested we make a 90-degree turn to starboard and head for Highbourne Cay Cut. If this point of sail was still untenable, we would give up for the day and run back to Cape Eleuthera to wait for better weather. Fortunately, this turn put the seas almost on our stern, just slightly quartering. Anyone who knows Great Harbour Trawlers knows that this is the kind of sea they like best.

Our 4-hour ride in to Highbourne Cay was very comfortable and uneventful until a large Mahi took the lure we were dragging and headed back towards Eleuthera with it. Fred and Michael did a yeoman's job horsing the big fish up to the cockpit so we could attempt to land him. Unfortunately, we don't have a gaff on the boat, so I had to wire him in by grabbing the leader in my gloved hand and flipping him up over the doorsill and into the boat. Man, I was already tasting those fresh, sweet filets that we would cook on the grill tonight.

If you scroll back to the top of the page, you will notice that of the pictures I chose to illustrate this entry into the blog, there is no picture of a large Mahi ready to filet. That's because he managed to rip the hook off the crimped wire leader just as I had him on the coaming of the boat. Damn. No fish tonight. Oh well, we just had to "make do" with a chicken that Michael roasted up perfectly in his Nuwave magic cooker.

But back to the crossing: We came through Highbourne Cay Cut uneventfully and as we entered the harbor at Highbourne Marina, we were all immediately struck by the beauty of the place. It is one of the nicest marinas I have ever seen - with crystal turquoise waters, a cute little office/store and lots of cool critters cruising around the harbor waters. I didn't get any pics of the nurse sharks that were greedily gobbling up thrown fish scraps at the fish cleaning station. However, I got some pictures of a pair of Eagle Rays that glided back and forth around Sea Glass for about ten minutes.

So, as so often happens, a change of plans ends up working for the best. We plan another dawn departure tomorrow and we should tie up at Staniel Cay around lunch time. That will give us a chance to do some exploring and maybe even snorkel Thunderball Grotto. But right now it's time for Mrs. Kraft's favorite little boy to get some shut-eye. I'll report back tomorrow.

Eleuthera - a Greek word meaning "freedom"... or maybe a woman's body part

The narrow entrance to Hatchet Bay

We sure weren't going to fit through with him coming out!

The grilled Lobster tails are ready!

We woke today at 6am to clear, windy skies. After doing our morning engine checks and warming the diesels, we dropped the mooring ball line and headed out of Little Harbour Bar Cut to the ocean. The various weather services were reporting seas ranging from 2-3’ to 4’-6’ for our crossing to Eleuthera. We got a little of each of them as we started out in 3’-4’ seas that soon built to 4-6’ seas and then, as we approached the coast of Eleuthera, they died down to 2-3’ for the remaining few hours before we got into the shallow waters on the south and west side of Eleuthera.

One of the obstacles in our way was notorious “Current Cut” that supposedly has tidal currents that race through at up to 10 knots.  Now, the max speed of Sea Glass is about 9 knots through the water – so if the current was indeed against us at ten knots, well…do the math... we wouldn’t be going anywhere!  Of course, as luck would have it, we were approaching the Cut against the tide.

We ended up running in against the tide with no problems – showing 3.8 knots over the bottom on our GPS.  Fortunately, the cut is only about five hundred yards long, so it didn't take too long.  We "eyeball" navigated though the maze of shallows south of the Cut and, once through, set a beeline for our night’s destination at Hatchet Bay. This picturesque little bay bills itself as the safest, most protected harbor in all of the Bahamas. That might be the case; however the entrance cut is totally blind until you’re actually in it. And just as we entered the intimidating and very narrow manmade cut (with towering rock cliffs on both sides) a 150’ interisland catamaran ferry made a sharp turn and blindly entered the other side of the cut – with barely enough room for just him. Well, you can imagine how this puckered us up (and the ferry driver too I’m sure). He blasted his horn in panic and I grabbed a large handful of reverse as we slowly backed out of his way. Once he had cleared the cut, we carefully made our way in with no further drama.

We picked up one of the free government-maintained mooring balls, fired up the grill and had a fantastic sunset dinner on the flybridge, complete with grilled Slipper Lobster tails, potatoes and steamed broccoli, topped off with a very nice bottle of Pinot Grigio. There’s something about a well-earned meal, taken on the flybridge after a tiring day on the water, that makes already great food even sweeter.

After dinner, we made some water for the tanks with the watermaker and tried to stay awake long enough to watch “Eagle Eye” on the satellite TV. We failed miserably, and halfway through the movie, everyone retired to their bunks to get some shut-eye. We have another long cruising day tomorrow if we’re going to make our destination at Staniel Cay in the Exumas.

Last Stop in The Abacos

Hangin' out at Pete's Pub

Fred and Michael relax at Little Harbour

Our intention this morning was to get up at a reasonable hour, take care of a few details, put the dink up on the deck, and cast off for Little Harbour by about 9. Like I said, that was the plan. But, as so often happens - the plan didn't cooperate.

Ken had finished up his charter with the French folks and rode his motorcycle over to the Marsh Harbour Marina to see us off. Of course, that meant that we engaged him to try to help us make sense of the brand new Maretron electronic engine instrumentation. Then, I remembered that I had wanted to dinghy over to the Fish House to buy some Slipper Lobster tails to have for our trip.

So, by about 9, Mike and Ken were concentrating on the electronics and Fred and I were busy hauling the dinghy back up with the electric deck crane to stow it in its cradle - 12 feet off the water.  The winch seemed to be making a lot more straining and creaking noises than usual, but we continued to haul her up. What we didn't know is that the cable had slipped off the pulley at the tip of the deck crane and was cutting into the aluminum side plate.  This put the cable under a tremendous amount of strain. You can see what's coming, right? As the dinghy got to the apex of its lift, the cable snapped in two and the 600-pound dinghy dropped to the water - twelve feet straight down!

This got our attention. Fortunately, the dinghy dropped perfectly flat onto the water and did no damage to itself or Sea Glass. We soon figured out what had happened - and I felt pretty stupid for not having checked the cable when it was making all its creaking noises.

So, I jumped onto the motorcycle to try to find a replacement cable. That's right, with the thousands of dollars in spare parts we had put aboard Sea Glass - including a spare deck crane winch - we had no spare cable. Luckily, Abaco Standard Hardware had the proper size cable and hook - and the aluminum swages we needed. Twenty minutes later, we had the cable installed on the winch and were able to bring the dink up and finally stow it safely away for its trip south.

So instead of a 9am start, we got underway about 10:45. Still, it was a beautiful day and we set off for the 2 1/2 hour run down to Little Harbour, home of the famous Pete's Pub & Gallery. We picked up a mooring ball in the harbor, quickly put the dinghy back down and headed in for cold frosty beverages. Mission accomplished, we wandered over to the rocky beach and watched the waves for a while, then toured the gallery where the Johnston family displays (and sells) their beautiful bronzes.

Little Harbour was settled in the 50s by sculptor Randolph Johnston and his young family, who were fleeing from what Rand considered the "Megamachine" of modern American civilization. They booked passage to the Abacos, where they bought and restored an old schooner at Man O' War Cay. They then set off for a voyage, intending to sail halfway around the world to Tahiti to make their new home. But just 30 miles later, they pulled into Little Harbour, took a look around and said, "This'll work."

The story of the hardships and trials they endured settling and raising a family in such a remote area is told in Randolph's book "An Artist on his Island". It's been out of print for some time, but you can still find copies occasionally on eBay or Amazon (that's where I got my copy.) Rand died in 1994, but Pete Johnston, his youngest son, runs "Pete's Pub" (a sand floor, open air, beach bar/restaurant with the best food in the Abacos), the gallery, and the foundry where he and his son Greg continue to cast fabulous bronze sculptures.

After taking a siesta and doing some reading aboard Sea Glass - and watching a movie on her satellite TV system - we dinghied back in to the pub for a delicious dinner. Ken had ridden his motorcycle down, so he joined us and picked up the tab (thanks Ken!)

After dinner, we said goodbye to Ken and headed back to Sea Glass where we once again stowed the dinghy and stood on the swim platform watching the harbor bottom beautifully lit up by Sea Glass's cool underwater lights. It's about 10pm as I write this and I can barely keep my eyes open. Tomorrow at dawn we leave for Eleuthera, where we plan to overnight at Hatchet Bay.

So watch our progress on SPOT. Goodnight.

Second verse - Same as the first...

Sea Glass tied up snugly at the

"Beautiful Marsh Harbour Marina

& Jib Room Restaurant"

So today was what you might call a "lay day". In other words, we didn't accomplish much. It was a bit overcast and we even had a little rain.  So, we went shopping for some additional provisions - wandered around Marsh Harbour - and scrubbed the dinghy.

But we actually accomplished quite a bit considering that we were kept awake until four in the morning by the idiots next to us on an old 60' Hatteras sportfish boat who just couldn't let the party end. One of the drunk chicks even managed to topple overboard and the rest of them thought that this was just the funniest thing that had ever happened in recorded history. I finally had to play the crotchety old neighbor and ask them to please SHUT UP! I used to be young once - and I am sure I was an idiot too - but I sure can't remember when that was...

So, Friday was kind of a bust. We had thoughts of taking the dinghy and going to Nipper's Beach Bar on Great Guana Cay, but the weather just didn't cooperate. Then, we have kind of been waiting for Travis (Great Harbour's I.T. guy - and Ken's son) to join us, but he decided it wasn't going to happen until later in the week. We did manage to have a great dinner at Wally's here in Marsh - then wandered over to Boat Harbour to see how the party was going at the annual Hatteras-Bertram Shootout fishing tournament (it was dead.) So we headed back to the boat to catch up on e-mail, phone calls and THE BLOG before we are incommunicado for a few days. Which means we are out of Marsh tomorrow and headed down to the south end of the Sea of Abaco to Little Harbour - home of Pete's Pub. Then, on Sunday, we will make the bash south to Eleuthera and hole up for a night or two in Hatchett Bay.

So, watch the SPOT website. We're on the move again.

Hangin' Out in Abaco

Fred taking a picture of me taking a
picture of him high over Hope Town

An Abaco Sailing Dinghy bobs gently in

Man 'O War Harbour

After several relentless travel days to finally make our way to the Bahamas and gorging ourselves on Jib Room ribs, we turned in early last night. Dawn came with light winds, some sun, and mild temperatures. So we threw some snorkel gear and our cameras into Sea Glass's dinghy and headed for Elbow Cay.

We were supposed to meet up with Spoonbill (our company Great Harbour N47 - and my usual ride in the Abacos) at Tahiti Beach. Captain Ken has a group of folks aboard for a training charter and they stayed on anchor last night at Tahiti Beach so that they could take advantage of the Full Moon Party over at Cracker P's.

I guess they must not have enjoyed the party too much, because by the time we arrived at Tahiti Beach at 10am, they were already long gone and on their way to Little Harbour - home of the famous Pete's Pub.

So, we turned around and headed in to White Sound to wander around at the Abaco Inn and check out their piece of the "space shuttle". It's a 6' chunk of aluminum honeycomb skin from some kind of rocket or missile that fell into the sea nearby at some time in the distant past. Of course, the real reason to go to the Abaco Inn (aside from their great parties) is to check out their beautiful stretch of beach.

From White Sound, the next stop was Hope Town and the candy-striped Elbow Cay Reef Lighthouse. This is one of the very few hand-cranked, kerosene-fired lighthouses left in the Western Hemisphere - I've climbed it 50 times and I never get tired of it. We all climbed the 101 steps to the lantern room where you can go out on the catwalk for a fantastic view of most of the central Abacos. As we left, we dropped a few bucks into the donation box for the lighthouse keepers where the sign says that all donations are "gladly excepted".

Well we had worked up a bit of a sweat going up and down those steps, so we dinghied back across the harbor and climbed a few more steps to reward ourselves with some ice-cold Kalik Lights at Gary's Reef Bar on the beach at Hope Town Harbour Lodge. Of course, Gary was his usual effervescent self, regaling us with stories about his local TV nature show, "Gary the Explorer", and about growing up in Spring City, just south of Marsh Harbour.

By now it was lunch time, so we bid goodbye to Gary and wandered back down towards the harbor looking forward to a great lunch at Harbour's Edge. Conch fingers, Chicken-in-da-Bag and Grilled Grouper were the order of the day.  All washed down, of course, with cold Kalik Light and Sands Light beers.

After lunch, we piled back into the dink and roared north from Hope Town up to Man O' War Cay to walk lunch off. I was on a mission to buy a sailcloth bag for my laptop to replace the very ragged backpack I've been toting it around in. I figured that Norman Albury's Sail Shop would have just what I was looking for. Michael found several bags that he couldn't live without and I found the perfect bag for my laptop. Now the Sail Shop on Man O' War is famous for making nearly indestructible bags out of canvas and sailcloth and stitched with nylon sail thread. These things are nice and rugged - if not the last word in haut couture.

Man O' War Cay is also the traditional hub of Abaco boat building. Although they haven't launched a big schooner since the 60's, they still build some gorgeous fiberglass center console Albury skiffs. There was a striking black-hulled 23-footer under construction in the boat shed and we watched some of the local men struggling to mount the big Yamaha outboard onto the black skiff for a few minutes.  Pretty much everyone on Man O' War is named Albury, but, like all Abaconians, they couldn't be nicer or more gracious.  Interestingly, Man O' War Cay is the only "dry" cay in the Abacos - you can't buy alcoholic beverages there.  However, local legend has it that more alcohol per capita is consumed there than most anywhere else in the islands!  Not sure if that's true - but it makes for a fun story.

Still one more stop on the "2010 Sea of Abaco Dinghy Tour" - Mermaid Reef right outside Marsh Harbour. We picked up a dinghy mooring and then finally cajoled poor Fred into slipping overboard into the cold (for the Bahamas) water. Alas, his mask kept filling with water and he decided to call it quits before he even snorkeled over the reef. Oh well, watching the big parrotfish under the boat was a relaxing way to spend ten or fifteen minutes while Fred dried off - and we headed off back to Sea Glass.

Hamburgers on the flybridge grill is a great way to finish up an excellent day. Tomorrow looks like another relaxing day to maybe reprovision a little bit, get some cash out of the ATM, and make preparations for the next leg of the voyage - to Hatchett Bay on the west coast of Eleuthera. Looks like our weather window for that trip opens up Sunday and Monday.

So, I'm going to close here, pay my bar bill and wander back to the boat for dinner. Goodnight!

Marsh Harbour

Dolphins play in Sea Glass's crystal-clear bow wake as we traverse the Sea of Abaco

After only a couple hours of sleep, we struggled up to the office at Spanish Cay to present ourselves and our papers to Bahamian Customs & Immigration. Although the usual friendly Customs gal, Euline, was on maternity leave, fill-in inspector Tyrell Miller was just as efficient and friendly in getting us "legal" for our stay in the beautiful Family Islands. He even took our breakfast order!

After a delicious and filling breakfast - complete with sweet Bahama bread toast - we cast off lines and pointed Sea Glass towards Marsh Harbour. The much-feared Whale Cay passage was relatively benign - although we did take a few big rollers broadside that threatened to re-open that refrigerator again!

We docked in our slip at the "Beautiful Marsh Harbour Marina and Jib Room Restaurant" about 2:30pm and set-to giving Sea Glass a much-needed scrub down. Of course, klutz that I am, I managed to slip on the soapy flybridge steps and come crashing down onto the deck. I was lucky though, sustaining no damage more serious than a few bruises, a scraped elbow, a sore tailbone and minor embarrassment.

Fred was really looking forward to those promised ribs at the weekly Jib Room Rib Night - and he wasn't disappointed. He and Michael agreed that the ribs were great - but neither would say whether or not they were better than those BVI ribs they had been bragging about. Oh well. To ME, they are the best. Ever.

We'll sleep in tomorrow and then maybe venture out with the dinghy to see what kind of trouble we can get into. We have a couple days to spend in the Abacos before moving on ever southward to Eleuthera and the Exumas. Stay tuned.

Across the Gulfstream

Fred, Relaxing Mid-Gulfstream

Wednesday morning dawned calm, sunny, and clear. Our weather router, Chris Parker, had recommended that we wait until Wednesday afternoon for the best possible conditions. But, never being one for listening to expert advice, I suggested to Michael that we leave immediately for the crossing. Hey, the weather was looking beautiful - and I'm an impatient kind of guy,.  So, at 9:30 in the morning, off we thundered out Lake Worth inlet. Next stop, Abaco.

The crossing went just fine with 2-4' seas on the stern and just a couple hours of 3-5' stuff to keep things interesting. We finally cruised onto the turquoise waters of the Little Bahama Bank at Indian Cay Light late in the afternoon.

For dinner, we had hot dogs and hamburgers, cooked on the flybridge grill, and watched the sun set slowly into the North Atlantic far behind us. Alas, there was no green flash. In its place there was an almost-full moon that illuminated everything on the bank. As we motored steadily towards our destination for the night, Spanish Cay, the wind and seas started to kick up. Well, we ended up taking a couple large waves broadside that finally caused our fully loaded refrigerator to break its keep strap loose and disgorge its contents all over the galley sole.

Can you imagine trying to clean up broken beer bottles, spilled tomato juice, and sundry other foods off a rolling deck in the middle of the night?  Well, it's not fun. At any rate, we finally cruised up to the dock in Spanish Cay at 3:30am, tied the lines, set some fenders, and crashed into bed for a couple hours sleep before checking in with Bahamian Customs in the morning.

It wasn't the best crossing or the worst crossing ever. But, after several false starts, we were finally in the Bahamas!

High winds, lightning & staging to cross

Captain Michael surveys his sturdy vessel from

the dock at Cannonsport Marina, Palm Beach

A huge thunderclap shook us all out of our bunks about 3am as the predicted cold front brought the brunt of a series of violent storms to central and south Florida last night. I have never seen so much lightning in the air, striking all around us with the howling winds threatening to yank us from our ties to the decrepit old wharf at Jones Fruit Dock.

I ran to the pilothouse and turned on the weather station to try to get an idea of the actual strength of the howling winds. Gusts of 30, then 40, then 50, then over 60 knots rocked us against the dock. The highest gust I saw was 66 knots - or about 76 mph! Hurricane strength. Fortunately, the lines held and the dock pilings survived the night's onslaught of stormy weather.

The storm finally subsided and the rest of the night consisted of more lightning and lots of rain. No sooner had we gone back to sleep it seemed than the alarm was going off for us to wake up and get a move on to the south. We finally untied in the rainy pre-dawn hours and set off for Palm Beach, where we planned to stage at one of the marinas near the Lake Worth inlet for a dash across (dash? at 7 knots?) the Gulf Stream to the Little Bahama Bank.

We ran south uneventfully in the rain until about 3pm when the weather suddenly cleared and the sun came out. By the time we tied up to the gas dock at Cannonsport Marina in Palm Beach, it was looking like a typical early spring South Florida afternoon with the clear, turquoise incoming tide and boats everywhere.

We topped up our diesel tanks, flushed out the water tanks, added a Corona (or two) to our personal "tanks" and walked the four blocks to Johnny Longboat's on the beach for a nice, casual dinner.

The winds are currently out of the SW at about 10-15 knots and the seas are forecast to lay down nicely tomorrow afternoon. So, it looks like all the planets are about lined up and we are ready to cross tomorrow starting early afternoon. If all goes as planned, we should cross onto the Little Bahama Bank just about dusk. Then, it's all night running across the Bank in the dark, arriving at Spanish Cay for customs check-in about 8am.

We'll hopefully scarf down some breakfast at Spanish and then move on the final few hours to Marsh Harbour, where we will tie up at "The Beautiful Marsh Harbour Marina and Jib Room Restaurant". Now Fred and Michael insist that the best ribs in all the islands are to be found at some joint in the BVI.  But I have a feeling they might change their minds after sampling some of Chef Marvin's finger-lickin' baby back ribs at the weekly Wednesday "Jib Room Rib Night". I'll report our findings...

110 miles on the ICW when we'd really rather be crossing to the Bahamas

Woke up this morning to overcast skies, strong winds - and the loudest damned Detroit Diesels on the planet. Seems the ancient converted pilot boat/trawler docked behind us was planning to leave before dawn. Or not. He "warmed up" those loud, smoky diesels for about an hour before leaving! Oh well, we needed to get moving anyway.

We did our engine checks, booted the computer, warmed the Yanmars, untied the dock lines and left the dock at 6:45am to cloudy skies and wind.  Sea Glass headed south on the ICW and we all settled in for a long day.

It turned out rather nice though as we relaxed, talked and plotted how we were going to turn this big sucker eastward as soon as the weather allowed.  We cruised uneventfully down the length of the Mosquito Lagoon, through the Haulover, and into the Indian River. I did experience a first for the ICW though, as a flock of eight bright pink Roseate Spoonbills paced us for about ten minutes. Of course Fred and I were so busy watching them through binoculars that I never thought to drag out my camera.

We did have one glitch though as I had built a very extensive route on the nav computer from Haulover Cut (north of NASA) all the way down the Indian River to Ft. Pierce. Now, if you have ever gone that route, you know that the navigable channel is very narrow and makes a lot of turns. So this route has something like 83 waypoints! Anyway, I set my predictor to show what I thought was Ft. Pierce's waypoint as our endpoint. And all day long I was telling the guys that the computer was predicting arrival at Ft. Pierce in time for dinner. The punch line is that I had mistakenly hit waypoint 53 instead of waypoint 83. So we didn't make Ft. Pierce as that would have taken until 10:30pm and we did not feel like running two and half hours in the Intracoastal at night.  It's too bad we didn't make it to Ft. Pierce though, as Wink and Wilma Thornton, aboard their GH47, "John Henry", were docked there. Would have been quite a party...

At any rate, after the Spoonbills flew away, I proceeded to tell the guys about the huge flocks of white pelicans that we would see as soon as we got through the Haulover and into the Indian River. Of course, no white pelicans were to be found. Michael and Fred spent the rest of the day wondering aloud about what I might have been smoking or drinking during the times I claim to have seen white pelicans.

So, rain squalls later in the afternoon led to a calm evening as we pulled up to the very funky "Jones' Fruit Dock" just north of Vero Beach - and about 21 miles short of Ft. Pierce.

Life is good. After a great chicken dinner cooked by Mr. Jackson - and washed down with an excellent Chardonnay - here I sit typing my Blog. The plan is to get up tomorrow, make the 2 1/2 hour run down to Ft. Pierce, head out the inlet and see whether we can make the crossing - or not. If so, next stop, Spanish Cay. If not, we'll continue to Palm Beach and wait another interminable day for our weather window to open back up.

Wish us luck.

Off with the Midnight Tide

Michael, Eric, and Fred ready to cast off from Green Cove

So, after several days of provisioning, last minute repairs, alterations, and upgrades to Sea Glass, we pulled away from the dock in Green Cove Springs at just before midnight, Friday night, April 23rd, 2010.

Sea Glass is a 2008 Great Harbour GH47 with twin Yanmar 75hp diesels. She is a spacious and seaworthy craft with plenty of room aboard for a larger crew than the three of us. She has a 13kw diesel generator, 3kw inverter, two large staterooms, and three more convertible queen berths in the dining area, saloon and pilothouse. She also has three heads. Her tender is a 13' Caribe RIB with 40hp Honda 4-stroke. Her electronics suite is the best available with full Glass Helm, AIS, radar, Single Sideband, KVH satellite, etc. She is equipped for a long voyage away from civilization with tons of spares and an outstanding inventory of safety gear.

Sea Glass's crew for this voyage consists of owner Michael Jackson, his buddy Fred Schmidt and me - the Sales Guy/Charter Captain for Great Harbour Trawlers - Eric Kraft.

Conditions on the 40-mile run down the St. Johns River towards the Atlantic can be best described as "dark". But with the excellent electronics and my knowledge of the many turns and bends of the river (I grew up boating on this river), we managed to miss being hit by any freighters or tugboats and punched out of the inlet into the North Atlantic about 6am.

Dawn came late on an overcast sky. However, the sea was still pretty benign with a light 10-knot breeze out of the southeast kicking up just little 2-footers on our port bow. After piloting Sea Glass all the way down the St. Johns, I gladly relinquished the helm to Fred and Michael so I could get a couple hours sleep in my comfortable watch cabin just aft of the pilothouse.

The afternoon passed slowly as wind and seas steadily began building. After managing to download all the latest weather information, it quickly became obvious that our nice weather window was in the process of slamming shut on us. There would be no Gulfstream crossing for several days.

At about 2 in the afternoon we made the decision to get out of the ocean at the next opportunity. Seas were up to about 3'-5' on the port bow and forecast to increase. NOAA's marine forecasts called for "dangerous sea conditions" that night. So, about 6:30pm we turned Sea Glass west into Ponce Inlet and docked at the Inlet Harbor Marina for some much-needed food and rest. We will start out tomorrow at dawn and work our way down the Intracoastal to Ft. Pierce to make our crossing decision there...