Traveling Team Fischer

When we last posted, we were waiting for critical parts and repairing or replacing what was lost or damaged before. I was also trying to learn to love the smell of diesel so seasickness doesn’t take hold of me and promising family that yes, I would do more blog posts so they could “travel with us” so to speak. As with many boaters, waiting for parts has become a major part of our lives. Once the critical parts arrived, we were able to do two things: Try crossing again and have important but not critical today parts delivered to family in the Virgin Islands so we could collect them later. It seemed like we were really ready this time, so we said our good byes again, and away we went.

This time, we were going to leave from another anchor spot that would save us about an hour in the overall trip, which was very important when the first two hours are spent dodging lobster traps in the dark. Everything had been stowed more securely, an assortment of anti-motion sickness remedies were fully stocked, and we felt much more confident that the first attempt. Best of all, the autopilot was finally fixed, so we should have an easier go of it. We set off at 4 AM. A few hours later we were motoring towards the most beautiful sunrise in the world.

We made the 14 hour motor-sailing trek without much drama, happy both wind and waves were much nicer to us. We chose to go in this window instead of waiting for a day we could just sail, as we were severely behind schedule at this point. We were learning the lesson of why sailors should never promise to meet anyone at any location on any specific date. As someone who likes to plan ahead, this has be a big challenge for me, but I certainly understand it now. The weather and the seas do not care about your plans. They will teach you patience.

We arrived at Cat Cay about an hour before the sun set, the water was too beautiful for words, and we discovered that the anchorage noted on our charts was not there. Whether due to recent storms, or just shifting sands, there was no way our 5 foot draft was going to make it anywhere near the spot on our map. It certainly didn’t match google earth images, either. A lesson in reality and what is on paper or electronic charts may not match. We found a new spot to set our anchor, activated the anchor alarm, and set anchor watch alarms. Part of our exhaustion was due to the autopilot quitting almost as soon as we turned it on. Cue ordering more parts to wait for us at the cousin’s place.

The next morning we were happy the anchor held beautifully all night and found our way to a protected marina on Bimini to get checked in, enjoyed some pool time, and mapped out the next few days. We were still learning to let go of having a home base, and this was a comforting marina. We were not sure when there would be another opportunity to stay at a marina, as our plan was to anchor at remote and deserted islands as much as possible.

Our next stop was to be the Northern end of the Berry Islands. Once again, we departed before 4 in the morning. We learned quickly that while staying in a marina may feel safe, departing from one can be a bit stressful in the dark, in narrow channels with depths that barely allow safe passage for your vessel. As we made our way around the northern end of Bimini we noticed a nice anchorage for future reference that would’ve saved us a few hours traveling time in the dark. We also checked the updated weather forecast and saw the wind would now be coming on our nose that day as well as the next day’s route.. So we adjusted our plan to instead head towards the Southern end of the Berries with a plan to anchor in the Great Bahama Bank when we were done sailing for the day. After about 14 hours, we decided we were at a good place to rest.

This was the most remote place we’ve ever dropped anchor. No land in sight, and we were in water that was only about 15 feet deep. The wind and seas were very calm. It was amazingly beautiful. A little unnerving, but primarily beautiful. I stood at the bow of the boat and tried to take a 360 degree panoramic photo of our location. Easier said than done. Couldn’t get the full 360, but the picture still captured the vibe.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t get a panoramic sunset shot, and of course the camera on the phone never reflects the full beauty of the moment, but it was still a lovely end to a long day. I wish I could share the calming sounds of the water gently splashing on our hull. Such a peaceful and beautiful setting.

It was at this moment that reality hit me. We were actually seeing our dream come to fruition. We were starting our once in a lifetime adventure, on a boat we spent 3 years restoring, in the Caribbean, and we were really doing it, not just taking about it. I mean seriously, who does this? What were we thinking? Most importantly, why didn’t we do this sooner? The terrifying part of the unknown was shrinking and the exciting part was taking over.

This was going to be an awesome adventure.