Tag Archive | sailing to Bahamas

The Sailboat that Couldn’t Sail

May1

Dreaming is happiness. Waiting is life.
— Victor Hugo


If we learn to enjoy waiting, we don’t have to wait to enjoy.
— Kazuaki Tanahashi

Our easterly route from Ginn Sur Mer followed the southern coast of Grand Bahama Island, which looked nearly deserted until we got closer to Freeport. The marine traffic picked up as we neared the harbor entrance, with a few huge cargo ships and tankers. Something was burning in Freeport, sending up clouds of heavy smoke. There were terminals out in the water for the tankers to offload oil and gas. It all seemed ugly and industrial to me after the deserted natural beauty of Ginn Sur Mer.

Kay at the front gate of the Grandma Yacht Club.
We entered Bell Channel, shown on the right, and took a slip at Grand Bahama Yacht Club. The Lucaya Marketplace is to the left of the yacht club, and some of the canals we explored are to the right.

After hearing other boaters calling for the “Grandma Mama Yacht Club,” we finally got our slip assignment and pulled easily into the C dock at Grand Bahama Yacht Club. This would end up being our favorite marina on this trip, even though we were stuck here waiting for boat parts (we still could not raise our mainsail) and a weather window. It’s not bad being stuck close to town with a pool, a pool bar and a restaurant, in a slip near the bathrooms and laundry. 

The marina buildings were well maintained and featured the architectural style seen here, with open verandas, arched entryways, and white picket fences. Phil is sitting on the steps.

We were docked next to a large catamaran called Isle of Misfits, with artwork depicting the Misfit Toys from the Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer cartoon-movie. After tidying the lines and fenders, we headed to the pool bar for a celebratory beer, unaware that it didn’t open until 4. As we sat waiting for a bartender to arrive, two men sat down next to us at the bar.

Our neighbors’ boat was decorated with characters from the Isle of Misfit Toys. (Photo courtesy of their Facebook group.)

“Are you our new neighbors?” one asked. “We are the Misfits.” We introduced ourselves and gave them a boat card. We chatted about our boat names, mentioning that we were waiting for sail parts that might arrive in Freeport any day now. Just before they left, one said to me, “I just realized that you are misfits, too. Remember the boat that couldn’t float? You are the sailboat that couldn’t sail.”

(For a great laugh when you need one, please read Ben Bowman’s ranking of the Misfit Toys.)

Phil befriended a blue-eyed stranger at the pool bar. She is the figurehead at the bow of the boat-shaped bar at Pisces Restaurant.

Life at Grandma Yacht Club

We settled into marina life, filling our days with cleaning chores, laundry, and a couple of trips to the large grocery store (Solomons) in a courtesy van. The marina offers rides every weekday at noon. I also had to have blood drawn for my oncologist in Fort Lauderdale, and Phil found an in-network lab we could walk to. (To be honest, I really couldn’t. I was out of breath and in pain by the time we finished the mile and a half in the hot sun. We took a taxi back.) Meanwhile, we waited for our package. Phil called, emailed, and visited FedEx and Customs. The first visit to the FedEx office cost $80 for the taxi. He found the city bus after that ($1.50).

On laundry day, we went to the office for quarters, and Phil wanted to take a picture of the marina sign. He brought along a burgee (flag) he’d saved from his first visit here on his neighbor’s sailboat 19 years ago. As we were posing, we asked a dock hand to take our picture – and he stared hard at the flag we were holding.

“Where did you get that?” he asked.

“Right here, 19 years ago,” said Phil.

“I think I gave that to you,” he said with a grin. “I’m Fabian. I’ve been here 23 years. I recognize that old flag.”

Fabian took this picture of us with our “VIP” burgee. Phil had gotten it the first time he docked here, 19 years ago on a friend’s boat.

We were VIPs after that, and people at the pool told us they heard the story from Fabian. We flew that flag, our VIP flag, for the rest of our visit.

The pool was amazingly clean and pretty cold. We spent a few afternoons here.

We loved the swimming pool and visited often. It was cold, but clean with a waterfall and bridge at one end and lanes for laps. We struck up conversations with other boaters there, and learned a little about Port Lucaya, the ferry service, and a place to dock the dinghy near the bars and restaurants at the market square. We also encountered a woman walking a large black pig like a dog. “Oh, that’s Chris,” Phil was told. “Short for Chris P. Bacon.”

Meet Chris P. Bacon, a pet pig that roamed the marina. He is obviously not one of the pigs who can swim.

Back in the Dinghy Again

We explored Port Lucaya and the nearby waterways by dinghy every chance we got.

Of course, our favorite pastime while we waited for sail parts was dinghy rides. We were advised by various cruising guides not to anchor within sight of the marina. We went into the canals to find alternate anchoring spots, but every one of the possible sites had a no anchoring sign.

Although there were possible anchorages in the canals, they all had “no anchoring” signs erected by the marina.

Along the way, we found derelict boats, derelict houses, wrecked docks, and a few construction sites. One large marina adjacent to Port Lucaya Marketplace is completely wrecked, even worse than it was when we visited by land several years ago. No one seems to be interested in repairing it.

In spite of its perfect location at Port Lucaya Marketplace, this marina has been closed for years.

On one excursion, we came across this boat, and Phil said, “Now there’s a boat I could afford!”

Phil nearly adopted this derelict. I warned him not to get too close.

Phil called it a tramp steamer. For some reason, it reminded me of a scene in a movie that I couldn’t quite remember.

“Wouldn’t it be fun if there were monkeys,” I said.

We both laughed because I realized that must have sounded like a random thought to Phil, not knowing what I was trying to remember: a movie with monkeys taking over a similar boat. (If you know what I was thinking of, please identify the movie in the comments.)

Phil thought this was a boat he could afford.

We took the dinghy to the Port Lucaya Marketplace several times, parking it near the ferry landing by Sabor’s Restaurant. We walked around the shops, restaurants and bars, buying very little. At Happy Hour, we sometimes found ourselves at Rum Runner, where the music was loud and often featured American country.

Kay enjoying an adult beverage at Rum Runners. We were practically regulars.

We talked with other patrons at the bar: a pair of flight attendants from Texas; a “Conchy Joe” who explained that his nickname was what they called White Bahamians; and other travelers who sipped the tall, icy concoctions made by the busy Bahamian bartenders.

Phil and I spent a couple of beers at Bones, a neighborhood bar with a dinghy dock.
Fair Play was another happy hour spot at the Lucaya Marketplace. This background looks painted, but it is real.

Three weeks slipped away, and we were still waiting for the sliders that would fix our mainsail. Phil will tell that part of the tale, but as he did everything he could to unite us with our package, we enjoyed the amenities and camaraderie of Grandma Mama Yacht Club. Until the day before we left, Catmandu continued to be the embodiment of a misfit toy: the sailboat that couldn’t sail.

Ready, Set, . . .

Mar5

 “Preparation, I have often said,
is rightly two-thirds of any venture.”
– Amelia Earhart

“Believe in yourself and all that you are.
Know that there is something inside you that is greater than any obstacle.”
– Christian D. Larson

Last year at this time, we were reeling from the cancer diagnosis that would keep us in South Florida for at least nine months. We gave up on our plan to cruise the Bahamas for the spring season and head north to Annapolis for the summer and fall. But now, with chemo, surgery, and radiation all behind us, we are ready to go. The boat, however, has a few “cancer cells” of its own.

Although it is well-maintained, Catmandu is a 26-year-old sailboat that has been sitting at a dock since last spring. Her bottom is cleaned every month; Capt. Phil starts the engine from time to time; the winches have been dismantled and cleaned; and we have a brand new dodger protecting our companionway. We regularly clean up after the messy birds and polish the stainless fittings. On the surface, we look great. But to go the Bahamas, we need additional insurance and (gasp!) a survey – or two.

Our Punchlist of Known Problems

Flaky Alternator: During our cruise up the coast of the Florida Keys, we had an intermittent problem with our alternator, as in, sometimes it didn’t turn on. Since we rely on this vital engine part to charge our batteries when motoring, this was number one on our fix-it list. Just because it was top of the list doesn’t mean it got fixed first. We decided to replace the unit and the regulator with a new Balmar kit and keep the old parts for spares. After laying out the nearly $900 for parts, Phil attempted to install it himself. He is skilled and knowledgeable, so I had no second thoughts until, well, Phil tells it best:

“I installed and tried to run the engine with the new Balmar alternator and regulator. Ten seconds into the run, the engine compartment filled with smoke and I found that the stator wire had burned through. It turned out to be caused by me plugging one wire into the wrong pin. Thoughts and prayers are welcome.”

Our old, intermittent alternator.

After several attempts at getting the right size belt at Advance Auto, and waiting for a replacement wiring harness for the melted one, Phil got it installed and (with crossed fingers) started the engine. The tachometer sprang to life, the alternator spun, and here’s the look on Phil’s face.

Success!
Alternator, installed, and running without smoking or sparking.

Leaky DOOD: In a previous post, we described the process of finding our “DOOD,” the dinghy of our dreams. Our Highfield hypalon, double-floored inflatable RIB has been great, lived through the Key West mooring field and Boot Key Harbor experiences with no issues. But, it had a very slow leak that required a pump-up about once a week.

We suspected a previously applied patch was the culprit, and after putting the boat upside down on the deck – with the help of the spinnaker halyard and a winch – Phil found the tiny leak spitting bubbles into the film of soap applied to the patch. He fixed that, too, and stowed the repaired DOOD on its dinghy davits, freshened with new pulley lines. We were making progress!

Touchy Toilet: One thing you don’t want to repair in exotic ports is the marine toilet. Ours had a clog that sometimes completely stopped up the works, and at other times let our “dark matter” through. After the last clog (which sends us all the way to the office whenever nature calls), Phil had had enough. He has a boroscope, and peeked into the tube to find not only a large bolt that had fallen in, but also a hard brown mass of crusty minerals and who knows what else. (You know what else.) “I’m just going to replace the whole hose,” he announced.

After checking in with WestMarine and being told the hose was $50 a foot, we laughed a little and headed to Boat Owners Warehouse, where we secured 15 feet of white sewage hose for $6.99 a foot. We are still not sure what that fancy hose at WestMarine was made of, but it was definitely too good for our sh*t.

Old hose, new hose: The hose passes from the holding tank (new this year) behind the nav station, through a bulkhead and into the head. If this didn’t work, we had to cut holes in walls.

Phil attached the old hose to the new hose, smoothed the connection, and called Hartman Marine plumbers for an extra pair of hands to pull the new hose into place. It worked. The two of them hooked everything up, cleaned up, and we have a smooth working plumbing system. No more panic runs to the office in the middle of the night.

Safety first! Items: A short list of safety items had to be added to our inventory, just in case. We purchased a set of jack lines and tethers, used to strap us to the boat in case we stumble and fall overboard. I don’t really like the idea of dangling from a tether over the lifelines, but it’s better than swimming with the sharks. We also got a completely new first aid kit (a gift from Phil’s parents), and a bright new LED anchor light. We were almost ready! Weren’t we?

A gift from Phil’s parents got us a deluxe, offshore first aid kit with bandages, medicines and instructions.

Our New Punchlist of Unknown Problems

Phil is fond of saying that “problems” are really “opportunities,” with tongue in cheek. Our surveyors uncovered a couple of opportunities to drain our cash. (Our trusty Prius presented another one.)

Survey Says: We were required by insurance to have the boat surveyed. We actually needed two surveys, one for the boat itself and all its safety gear, and one for the rigging: the mast, shrouds, chain plates and all that hold the mast upright.

For the boat, we contacted the preferred provider recommended by Playboy Marine, a nearby boat yard where we could haul the boat out of the water if needed. Ian Morris came onboard with his rubber mallet, beat on the deck (looking for mushy spots), and inventoried our safety equipment: yes, we have an electronic flare, an EPIRB (Emergency Position Indicating Radio Beacon) that located us in case of emergency, and fire extinguishers. He suggested personal EPIRBS and a fire-fighting hole in the stairway for engine fires, but no haul out! Hooray!

Riggers climbed the mast to make repairs.

Phil called a rigger who had worked on our previous boat, and Jonathan, of JC Marine, came to check the upper reaches of the boat. His crew climbed the mast, replaced the anchor light, and delivered some bad news. The cost of the survey was only $385, but the repairs were close to $3,000. We needed one chain plate rebedded, new spreader boots, and a new sail track. This last item was expensive, took two tries to get the size right, and nearly delayed our departure. It is the liner of the slot where the sail attaches to the mast, and it was very crumbly.

Here’s the old anchor light, probably the original 26-year-old light. The new one is LED and much brighter.

Now, the boat was ready. But were we?

Our Wishlist of Enhancements

In one word, we needed better “communications” to keep us safe, in touch, and wise to the weather. We would not always be within reach of a cell tower, or have access to the internet. These factors – in my mind – were not problems, but opportunities. We would be away from civilization, in the wild, exploring deserted beaches and snorkeling in private coves. Heaven!

But, for safety and peace of mind for our families and friends, we did need to be “reachable” in some way. We also needed expert weather routing so we could avoid dangerous squalls and fronts. We don’t really like turbulent winds or high seas. So we signed up for Chris Parker‘s weather routing service ($450 for a year), and bought a new chart update for the chart plotter. We had to get 2024 charts, as the 2025 version is not available yet. We also have new paper charts (for backup and reference) for all of the Bahamas.

Finally, as a backup to our phone service, we activated an Iridium Go device Phil had purchased last year, giving us satellite service for texts, emails, and weather updates when we were far from a cell tower or any form of internet. We gave instructions and numbers to our emergency contacts. Now, we were ready to go, weren’t we?

Iridium Go, for satellite communications.

I can’t go through all of the preparations we made for our trip. It would be too long and too boring. We serviced the water maker, changed oil and filters on the Westerbeke, filled the jerry cans with diesel and gas, and visited four different vendors to find one that could fill our propane tanks. We ordered $300 worth of meat substitutes for the freezer, in case the Bahamas didn’t cater to vegetarians. We bought another $400 worth of food stores – including treats. We notified the marina of our departure date, and they very kindly allowed us to leave our car.

There was only one thing left to do…

GO!