Crossing the Wild Pacific: Captain's Log of the Yacht Argo

FLORIDA

It is dark now. The sun has set beneath the waves in a beautiful coral-colored halo, and I am alone on the bridge. I will be on watch for a few more hours. The sea is calm, and a breeze is blowing from the east. It is completely dark outside save for the stars. The night is as black as pitch, which is disorienting since we cannot see where we are going: as the ship rolls, you feel like you did as a kid when someone put a bag over your head and spun you around. Tonight, we are bound for the Bahamas, intending to make landfall at a little island called Chub Cay. This is the same track we took on Argo’s maiden voyage about a year ago when she was so roughly treated by the Gulf Stream, bounced around in a way that I had never experienced before.

Today is an important, or rather an auspicious, day in that we are embarking on an 8-month cruise that will take us literally halfway around the world. Ultimately, we plan to make landfall at Auckland, New Zealand, in early October, but from here to Auckland we will visit 16 countries and island groups, travel nearly 10,000 miles, and burn 11,000 gallons of diesel fuel. It is a big undertaking that has occupied a lot of our time for the past several months and our dreams for many years. It is the reason we bought Argo.

We got underway this morning at 10:15 and passed under the Roosevelt Bridge, which could be a metaphor for the moment: the beginning of the trip and an end to the planning and preparation phase. As we passed under it we caught a glimpse of a couple waving frantically to us: Melanie and Curtis Hoff, dear friends from Ann Arbor, surprised us by driving down from Vero Beach (where their beautiful boat is now moored) to wave goodbye and take our picture for posterity. What a wonderful gesture!

THE BAHAMAS

Tom took the overnight watch, and I relieved him at 07:00. It was a nice clear morning, and we were still on the Mackie Bank about 20 miles east of Chub Cay. We put the fishing lines out as we neared the bank at Fleeming Channel. Apparently, no one was in the mood for breakfast even though I served up a beautiful cedar plug. About 10:30 we raised Chub Cay Marina on VHF 68 and made our way into the channel toward the docks. Chub Cay is a little limestone island that rises about 3 feet above sea level. The island is beautiful: white limestone beaches, pine trees and palms all around, and fancy homes built by the marina’s developer. The homes are done in a sort of American colonial style, with brightly painted pastel colors, steel roofs, and Adirondack chairs on the porches. The marina was carved out of solid limestone rock. I can only imagine what it cost to build! Despite being beautifully equipped, it didn’t seem to be doing well financially.

The marina caters mostly to the sport fishing crowd, and there were a number of them in the harbor as we pulled in. These boats are very expensive—certainly millions of dollars—with most of them having several crew members. While at the dock, crew members spend most of their time washing and polishing their boats or stringing fishing lines and preparing for the next day’s expedition. The docking fees are extremely high here: $4.35/foot in season and $2.50/foot off season plus 40 cents/gallon for water and $30/night for electricity. One night at dock was $225. Because the high season began February 17, we should have paid the higher rate (about $400), but they let us off easy.

After checking in with the dock master, Rebecca took our papers to customs and immigration located a few miles away at the dirt airstrip and paid the Bahamian $300 cruising fee. Meanwhile Tom cleaned the salt off Argo while I de-pickled the watermaker and got it up and running. That afternoon we went to the beach for a little while, but the ocean was only 78 degrees, a little cold for Rebecca and Tom. On our way back to the boat, an owner of a sport-fish stopped Rebecca and asked her to taste his ceviche. What a come-on! I was standing right there. Anyway, I commented on the raft of fancy reels and fishing poles bristling off the back of his boat. There must have been $50,000 worth of reels and poles, some electric and some manual, all bright and shining gold masterpieces of the sport fishing culture. To distract him from focusing on my wife, I asked him what he had to buy his wife in order to invest so much in all this fishing gear. That’s when I heard the biggest whopper of them all: he told us that his wife doesn’t particularly like jewelry, so he buys her a fishing rod or reel for Mother’s Days, anniversaries, and the like. Boy, that’s a fish story if ever I heard one; either that, or he has the most understanding and unselfish wife in the world!

After a delicious dinner, a la Rebecca, we all fell into bed tired and glad to have started on our voyage.

We got underway about 06:45 and started for a lagoon between Allen and Leaf Cay about 10 hours away. These two islands are clustered together and form one of the most beautiful places that we have been to in our travels. They are home to two species of indigenous iguanas. First, we had to cross Fleeming Channel, which is a notorious piece of water; it is often windblown and rough because the ocean breeze is channeled between the Great Abaco and Eleuthera Islands to the north and the New Providence Island to the south. Today we had 30 knots of wind and 4 to 6-foot box-wave seas, which didn’t subside until we rounded the western tip of New Providence Island and moved onto the Great Bahama Bank. The depth of the water changes rapidly from the channel to the bank, going from about 1,000 feet to 20 feet or less in a very short distance. Argo bounced around a bit in the deep water taking the waves broadside: just a little taste of what is to come when we cross the Caribbean Sea in a couple of weeks. We made it to the bank in a couple of hours and then on to Allen and Leaf Cays, arriving around 17:14; a good run in sunny, warm weather. We anchored in sand in 15 feet of water just in time to enjoy a lovely sunset.

The next morning, we awoke to a clear, sunny day, though breezy. Waves in the anchorage were a little rough, so we decided to pull the anchor and enjoy a 5-hour cruise down the coast to Big Major. This is one of two places where boaters congregate in large numbers to socialize and enjoy a tiny speck of civilization on Staniel Cay. Last winter we spent about 2 weeks here.

We arrived in the early afternoon and found about 50 yachts at anchor. We put out the tender and cruised around the islands, stopping in at the club for a libation. Since many cruisers come here year after year, sort of like visiting the same campground, on the way back we decided to look around for people we met last year. As we tooled about in our tender we noticed Exodus, a Fleming 65 with Texans Susan and Arnie on board. We met them last year and spent a fair amount of time in their delightful company. Later that evening we stopped by for cocktails and watched the sun go down. We asked about a couple (best to remain nameless) that we had met last year, and Susan told us that they had to sell their boat because neither of their mothers, both of whom are in their 90s, had died yet, so they couldn’t afford to keep up the cruising lifestyle. The couple tells everyone this story and refers to themselves as trust-fund babies, so we are not really talking out of school. Apparently, the nameless couple tried to sell their boat, had a buyer, and needed to take the boat south from its location to consummate the sale. On the way, the boat unfortunately developed an engine room fire at sea. Having been aboard the boat last year, I am not sure if the fire wasn’t a blessing in disguise. But, instead of letting it burn and sink, the fire was extinguished, the boat was saved and ultimately towed to shore. The buyer, of course, lost interest, and our acquaintances are now watching their mothers spend their inheritances.

The Bahamas are spectacular: blue sky, gorgeous aqua blue water, white sand, and beautiful palm trees. The air temperature is about 80 degrees, and the water is just a few degrees less. I couldn’t wait to go swimming, so we headed over to the grotto where the movie Thunderball was filmed. You remember the scene that drove everyone wild: Sean Connery and a voluptuous young woman diving under the rock and finding themselves all wet in a beautiful, underwater cave. Well, this was the place, and it is spectacular. There is a buoy near the underwater entrance to the grotto so visitors can tie up their dinghies. We jumped in and swam about 15 feet in aqua blue water to the edge of a small rocky island, dove under the rocks, and swam under them until we could see light from above. We came up into a domed cave about 500 feet wide with a ceiling rising about 30 feet above the water. At its azimuth were several large holes through which sunlight illuminated the grotto’s interior. Across from the grotto’s entrance was a second room, but it was illuminated by light from underwater reflected off the adjacent coral reef. The grotto is 20 or so feet deep, so other tourists didn’t stay very long because they had to paddle with their feet to stay afloat. We had fins and snorkeling equipment, so we stayed perhaps 20 minutes. The shimmering aqua blues, golden sunlight reflecting off the lichen-colored rocky surfaces, the white sand below, and the reflected colors of the reef made our visit to the grotto among our most beautiful memories.

That afternoon Tom and I thought we should clean Argo’s bottom. She had been sitting in the Saint Lucie River in Stuart, Florida, for several weeks, and a grassy alga had taken up residence. Growth of any kind should be removed from a vessel’s bottom as it will slow the boat and decrease fuel efficiency. I had never done this sort of work before, as usually I hire a diver to clean her, but one of my boating friends does it himself, so I thought I would give it a try. In this case, we just used a washcloth and wiped the bottom as far down as we could reach, which was adequate. It can be a little unsettling to enter the water from the boat in the Bahamas as nurse sharks up to 10 feet long rest on the sandy bottom in the shadow of the boat.

That evening we took the tender on the 20-minute trip to the Staniel Cay Yacht Club. Fancy this place ain’t; it’s a Bahamian bar offering booze and food (mostly fried) to passing sailors. It’s a fun place full of cast-off hats, flags, and other nautical and team sports memorabilia from around the world. Fishing boats and tenders are tied up at the little dock, and under the boats are a dozen or so nurse sharks milling about. They are attracted by the fishermen’s fish-cleaning station, hoping to snatch an easy meal.

The next day we got up early and set out for Georgetown, about 80 miles south of Big Major. It was a beautiful day, and we planned to get out the fishing gear and see if we could put some fresh fish in the freezer. But first we had to negotiate Lumber Cay Cut, a narrow passageway through the reef that provides a path to the sea. These cuts can be very tricky as currents and wind can make them dangerous, especially since they are usually not straight passages, but curve around coral heads and rocks. Once out at sea we got out the gear and enjoyed the beautiful day. Tom took the helm, and Rebecca made breakfast. I sat on the aft deck enjoying the view—the sparse Exuma Island passing to starboard with the limestone shoreline carpeted in green. It was a fantastic morning. I put out one cedar plug, my all-time best fish attractor. On the port side, I put out a brightly colored feathered plug that I had to rig as I had never used it before. I tossed it in the water, sat back, and put my feet up, sipped some fresh coffee, and contemplated my good fortune.

After about 45 minutes I thought luck might not be with us today. Then, just as I was about to get up I scanned the waters to starboard and saw a bull dorado leap out of the water. He was about 300 yards away. As he jumped in the air he displayed a dazzlingly gorgeous neon robin’s egg blue color. I never saw anything like it. I hoped he might be headed for my lure. I waited . . . then wham! Off he went with my plug in his mouth. He fought for about 15 minutes, jumping and tail walking, but unfortunately for him the die was cast; when it was over we had a nice 30 to 35 pounder in the bag. Two hours later we caught another dorado on the same bright lure, this time a 45 pounder. A beautiful fish, indeed, and an end to a great fishing day.

Around 16:00 we pulled into Stocking Harbor at Monument Hill across from Georgetown. There were about 250 boats in the harbor, mostly sailboats. Like Big Major, many people camp out here for long periods of time. They even conduct classes on the beach on all sorts of subjects. Chat & Chill is located on the beach, which is the most iconic Tiki bar I have ever seen. As we made our way carefully down the narrow fairway, we saw a familiar boat—Pirate—owned by Jim and Jane, a couple we met during our cruise last winter. Jim hailed us on the VHF radio and invited us to a dinner on their boat that evening. We accepted their invitation and turned Argo around and dropped anchor next door. We went aboard Pirate around 18:00 that evening for a hot dog and chili cookout accompanied by a musical jam session. Jim had set up a karaoke device next to his macaw named Mackie, and two young Canadians with guitars arrived in short order. They had sailed a tiny sailboat from Ontario all the way down via the Erie Canal and Hudson River on a boat with no generator or ice maker. Despite a rough ride at times, these young men could really sing folk songs. It was a lot of fun.

The next morning was spectacular. Tom put out our sun shades and washed the salt off Argo. After completing our chores, we lowered the tender for a tour of the area and to visit some old Nordhavn friends who have a boat similar to ours. We dropped Tom off at Chat & Chill, and headed back to Argo for lunch on the aft deck. It was such a lovely lunch in such a beautiful place that it alone made all the work of getting the trip planned and Argo underway worth it.

After lunch, we returned to Chat & Chill to collect Tom and have a swim. We found Tom at the bar with new fast friends from Atlanta, Lee and Mary Ann. Lee had bought his wife a vacation at Sandals for her birthday, but they were disappointed with the resort and found their way down to Chat & Chill. Lee also found out about Gumby punches and had been buying them all afternoon for Tom. Everyone was in a very good mood by the time we arrived, and Lee insisted on buying us more of the same. It was a lot of fun.

Later in the evening we visited our Nordhavn friends George and Mary Ann aboard their yacht, which was similar to ours. It was great to see them and hear about their experiences both with the boat and their travels. They are planning a summer trip to Montreal, Quebec, Greenland, and Iceland. Sounded like a great trip to us!

Today is fresh vegetable day at the market in Georgetown, so off we went on a provisioning sojourn. It is a small but interesting village with only 85 inhabitants, although the Great Exuma Island has a population of around 3,000. Among other things, the town has at least three churches, two liquor stores, one grocery, a bunch of souvenir shops, a small hotel named Peace and Plenty, and the Top to Bottom hardware store, which has a little something for everyone. It’s a fun little spot and much appreciated by wayfarers. That evening we hosted friends to a lovely fresh mahi-mahi dinner on Argo.

The weather has been superb and is forecasted to be perfect for the next week or so. The trip south to Port Antonio, Jamaica, is about 450 miles. This will take us almost 3 days. Our route follows the shore of Long Island (south of Exuma), past Great Inagua Island, around the eastern tip of Cuba and the Windward Passage, then a turn to starboard past Guantanamo Bay to Port Antonio in Jamaica.

February 27

At the moment, we are 27 miles north of Cuba, and the ocean is about 10,000 feet deep here. The air is 88 degrees, and the water is 83 degrees and lazily rolling under our starboard quarter. There is almost no wind (which is why we have a motor yacht with air-conditioning). Argo has performed beautifully. For the first day of this leg, we cruised at 1,100 rpm and used 4.2 gph and moved at 7 knots, which is 0.6 gpm. Now we are going about 8 knots at 6 gph. We are testing our fuel burn rate at different rpms so we can better plan our strategy for the Pacific crossing. We use the generator(s) between 10 and 14 hours a day to cook, charge batteries, make water, and run air-conditioning at night. The generator uses about 2 to 4 gallons an hour depending on which one we use; so, in round numbers, we are using about 160 gallons a day. With 3,200 gallons of fuel on board, we could do this for 20 days, and with our 500-gallon fuel bladder we can go along for 23 days. It should take about 15 days to cross the 3,000 miles (2,400 gallons estimated usage) from the Galapagos to the Marquesas Islands.

Around 6 p.m. on Thursday we reached the Windward Passage, which is the channel between Cuba and Haiti. We passed through it two years ago on Odyssey, and it was as gentle as a lamb, just like today. Lucky us!

In the morning, we passed the protection of the mountain range Massif de la Hotte, on the southern peninsula of Haiti. Here we began to feel the large swells on our beam rolling north from the Caribbean. As the sun rose, the sea changed and the wind rotated so that by afternoon the swells were much smaller and more pleasant. The day was lovely, but as time passed we became more anxious because we didn’t want to reach Port Antonio after nightfall. Unfortunately, we were in an adverse current all day so our speed was limited to just over 7 knots. Later, as the sun set, Jamaica’s beautiful Blue Mountains were cast in a silhouette against the high clouds and the rose shades of the setting sun. That evening, Rebecca made us a wonderful dinner of the mahi-mahi that we caught at sea the night before.

As spectacular as the evening cruise into port was, coming into a strange harbor requires close 3attention and vigilance, particularly in a third-world country like Jamaica. At night, fishermen are often working offshore and the lights of the city present a background against which small boats, even if they have a light, are indistinguishable. Most are too small for the radar to pick up, so care and watchfulness is the order of the day (or night). The harbor’s entrance can be equally hard to spot amidst the background lights. We scanned the city’s waterline and spotted some red and green lights marking the fairway entrance right were the chart illustrated them to be; we checked the code blinking from them, which confirmed that we were in the right place. We slowed and proceeded in, then made a turn to starboard and entered the west harbor through a small channel. By this time, we were going very slowly as it was quite dark and there were many small boats at anchor. We looked for the marina (named Errol Flynn after its founder), but it didn’t seem to be located as shown on the map. A very large four-mast sailing schooner was tied up at a pier, but in the dark, it was hard to tell its orientation or the pathway to the pier. Typical of Jamaica, the nightclubs were blasting loud, throbbing sounds, the party was in full swing, and a sweet fragrance wafted on the breeze. We inched our way toward the schooner, watching the depth and mindful of how to get out if we were in the wrong place. A couple of people on the schooner confirmed that this was indeed the marina, and so we decided to bring Argo to rest at a vacant portion of the dock in front of the schooner. We needed to reverse Argo’s orientation, so in this confined space I brought her about and moved her starboard side ever-so-gently to the pier. Rebecca and Tom made sure we had adequate fenders out and that no protrusions from the pier presented a danger. As we approached, fellow sailors scrambled out of their boats to give us a hand with the lines. One fellow was still in his PJ’s!

By this time, it was about 11 p.m. Within minutes, police arrived, two very nice officers. They wanted to come on board immediately, but Rebecca wanted to see their IDs. The two fumbled around trying to scrounge up their cards, but only one of them could find it. I wasn’t sure if Rebecca was going to relent and let both on board. But after a minute or two of discussion, aboard they came with their shoes on, although Tom wiped the bottoms of them off. (Generally, we try not to wear shoes on the boat so as to prevent bird droppings and other dock refuse from coming aboard.)

The two officers filled out a raft of paperwork and then inspected the vessel from stem to stern; they went through the refrigerator, all the drawers, and even tossed the dirty laundry. The whole ordeal took about an hour and a half. We were then told we had three more inspections to go through: Coast Guard, Immigration, and Health. By this time, we were very tired, but not too tired to have a few Dark and Stormy’s.

JAMAICA

7 a.m. came early. That’s when the Coast Guard came rapping on our stateroom window. They too wanted to come aboard right away. Again, two birds with heavy boots; they wanted to fill out the same paperwork we filled out the night before and they also wanted to inspect our flares. That was it.

About 10 a.m. a nice lady from the Health Department arrived. She didn’t want to take her shoes off either, but complied with our wishes. She had almost nothing to say, but did fill out paperwork substantially the same as the other officials. At this point we were almost done, but we weren’t allowed to leave the boat until the immigration officer made his visit and completed his paperwork. This was frustrating because we needed provisions and, as it was Saturday, the markets closed at 13:00 and would stay closed until Monday. We called the harbormaster and yacht club manager in an effort to hurry things along. They told us to go ahead and do our shopping in spite of the lack of formal permission. The immigration officer finally showed up at 5 p.m. with the same paperwork that the others had brought before, and then he demanded $38 extra payment for his overtime!

During the day, we cleaned Argo, reconnoitered the club, and met other sailors along the dock. That evening we had a wonderful time with three other boating couples. Our first acquaintances were Ismael and Olga from Barcelona who lived aboard the catamaran moored alongside us. She was a gorgeous young woman, and Ismael was a thin, middle-aged, athletic man who looked every bit the Castilian—like a portrait of Hernando Cortes. Both were bright, animated, and lots of fun. They have lived on a catamaran for at least 8 years, and had spent the last 3 years in Cuba, which they loved.