When we left you, the wind had shifted so as to provide rollers from
the
southwest. It wasn't an uncomfortable night, but by morning, the wind
had
moved further west and built slightly, making for a very lumpy
pitching
motion. Fortunately, pitching is the most comfortable of the major
motions
in the stern, so all was well.

We figured we'd not be going ashore, so I got up to start the Honda
generator before listening to Chris, expecting to do some more bean
polishing, and to give me chance to catch up on my logs. When I went
back
to the platform, the pitching was sufficient to put the platform, 2'
above
the water line, into the water frequently, so I was a bit surprised
when my
bare feet got wet as I stepped down

The eu2000i generator, once we cleaned out the carburetor in Marsh
Harbour,
normally starts on the first pull. However, today, it gave one little
chug
and then refused to start. Just in case it wasn't really not empty, I
filled the gas tank, and tried again. No change. Putting it up on
deck to
get a better pull angle, it still didn't, but I noticed that the
closed-cell
foam base (made from a fellow cruiser's castoff pieces in George Town)
was
wet.

Hmmm... Perhaps there was so much motion that the electrical stuff in
the
face panel got wet? Oh, well, not today. Further, Lydia was unhappy
enough
with the location and waves, and the forecasted continuing westerlies
that
we elected to move on to Flamingo Cay, about 25 miles up the Jumentos
chain,
in a favorable direction for the wind.

I stowed the generator and fuel can, and made the rest of the topsides
ready
for departure. I'll give the generator another try on another day,
and if
it starts, I'll presume it was just some water which eventually
drained and
evaporated. If not, I'll have to take it apart to see what might be
the
problem. But, for now, it looked like a nice day to sail...

We sailed off the anchor by 9, and the sails set for our first line,
at
9:05. The first leg was at 312*T, allowing us to connect with the
Explorer
Charts' marvelously laid out waypoints' rhumb lines and waypoints to
Flamingo Cay. The seas were rolly/choppy, but not so big as to be
troublesome in the 10-15 knot breeze. With our cleaned bottom (recall
all
the work in Long Island to get the meadow off!), we were making 7.5
knots
with the wind at 070-080* apparent. A slightly close reach, but
nearly
abeam, this seems, at least to our current sailplan, to be about the
best
point of sail for us, so we were pleased with the speed.

Once we reached the rhumbline on the Explorer Charts, we turned
northward at
9:50AM to our new heading of 349T. As the wind had dropped slightly,
to
8-10 knots, we retained our beam-ish heading as our speed dropped to
about
7.1 knots. That's because we weren't going as fast as before, making
the
apparent wind move slightly astern. We were, still, however, still
making a
nice speed in relatively light airs for our 40,000 pound home.

By 10AM, however, the wind backed and dropped even more. By 10:30, it
was
more like 5-8 knots, and our wind direction slightly more astern,
dropping
our speed further to "only" (still nice progress!) 6.8 knots.
However, our
next waypoint came up, and we turned to our course of 000*T. That put
the
wind at more like 120 degrees on our port stern, further dropping the
speed
to 6.6 knots. No problem, mon, we'd still be there in plenty of
daylight.

The now-following seas, however, caused much more rock-and-roll than
before,
now that the sails weren't keeping the boat as stiff for us.
Fortunately, by
11:30, the wind picked up a bit, and returned to the earlier heading.
That
stiffened the boat, adding speed as well, as we saw the wind move
forward to
080-090* apparent as we made 7.4 knots at the more favorable wind
heading. A
great day to sail, again, but not brilliant. We actually wore
clothing for
the trip!

The Jumentos, in particular, due to all the very shallow spots,
require many
changes of direction to follow the waypoints in the Explorer Charts,
so,
once again, we changed headings at noon, going on a 346*T line.
Turning the
boat into the wind a bit as a result made the apparent wind not only
move
forward, but, unfortunately, it also backed slightly, losing our more
favorable direction. We were presented with an apparent wind of 8-12
knots,
at an apparent angle of 070-080*, slowing us slightly with the tidal
current
against us, to 6.7 knots.

There are areas in the Jumentos with very significant current, as
shown on
the charts. There are some continuous currents, so the tidal effect
is much
stronger, in some areas, in one direction than the other. Our
progress was
slightly impeded, as a result, as the tide was coming in at this
point.
Still no problem, still making nice time, and we'd be there in broad
daylight. Can't complain when you're not getting wet, not sweating
like a
horse or chilled to the bone!

In another of the many course adjustments, another waypoint showed up
at
12:20, and we turned to 000*T again. Fortunately, the wind moved with
us by
that time, and we were again on a beam reach, 090* apparent wind of
8-10
knots producing 7.1 knots SOG. Yahoo! Ride-em Cowboy! The motion of
the
boat was most comfortable at this angle, but the seas were building
after a
couple of days of fetch, so we did a lot of lift-and-fall, with some
rolling
due to our sliding up and down the faces of the waves. Still, no
problem,
Mon!

This leg was very brief, really just to get by some reefs. If we were
a
shallow draft boat, in calm seas, we could have taken a more direct
route,
but the usual chart warnings of VPR (visual pilotage rules) applied
even to
those boats. Of course, with our 7' or greater draft, that route
wasn't an
option so by 12:30 we made yet another course change at 12:30after our
brief
time at 000*.

Heading, now 037*T, the apparent wind dropped to 5-8 knots, coming on
our
port stern at 120* - giving us a slower speed of 6.5 knots SOG.
Apparently,
that helped us attract something which didn't have to be a speedsster
to
catch up with it, because our skirted lure was taken by something
pretty big
at 12:45.

He stripped out a bunch of line before I got the drag tight enough to
hold
him, and I spent 30 minutes fighting him before we were able to get
him
alongside. Dang! Another very large barracuda. However, once I had
him on
the gaff such that I wouldn't kill him (a maneuver which took several
tries,
in order to work the point of the gaff into his gaping mouth, and
hooking
him on the edge of the forward of his jaw, thus not damaging him), I
saw,
curiously, that he had no tongue, in contrast to the last one we let
go.

In retrospect, I wonder if one of them (this one vs the other) was in
fact a
king mackerel, for I can't imagine barracuda not having tongues, if
the last
one did. I've not really paid attention in the others we've hooked,
but I
*THINK* (readers here may know for sure, as I'm surely not an
experienced
fisherman) the others didn't have tongues. I'd hate to have discarded
a
king mackerel, known to have significant teeth from the single one we
boated
on the beginning of our first trip up the east coast of the US. We'd
had a
very experienced blue-water fisherman with us, and he readily
identified
that fish as a king mackerel. I'll have to drop him a line...

As is often the case, where there is one, there's another, so at 1:25,
another large fish hit. This one threw the lure quite quickly after
the
hooking, so I don't know what it was, but we sure aren't catching much
dinner, out here! We arrived at our last waypoint at 1:30 and prepared
to
head into the anchorage known as two palms, due to the very prominent,
solitary pair of palm trees on the beach. Part of our preparations
include
bringing in the lines, and I was annoyed to find that, in addition to
our
having lost a diamond-shaped lure to some other fish on an earlier day
(it
had pulled so hard that the leader snap broke off!), after I'd taken
an new
painted cedar plug out of the supplies (dwindling fast, now!),
something
very toothy must have been very fast and very hungry.

That's because there was no lure there, only a very tooth-marked
leader.
Apparently whatever it was had taken the lure deep into his mouth,
chomped,
and cut through the substantial monofilament line. DANG!! I'm much
better
at contributing gear to the ocean than I am at catching fish! The
clincher
to the presumption of a very toothy fish was that the trip line (pops
out of
the trip when the tension on the line is suddenly increased) hadn't
popped,
giving us no clue of the strike. Ah, well, both lines in and poles
stowed,
we prepared to anchor.

The charts show good holding, but apparently, that must be close to
the
beach. With the rollers and west wind, I wanted to be a good way
offshore,
with a very long scope. However, despite trying multiple times, with
my
hand on the chain at each of my intermediate drop steps, I kept
feeling it
drag. It felt like it must have been on rock, as it wasn't smooth.

So, by 2PM, after several tries, rather than risk being closer to
shore, and
in particular because, if our prior anchorage was "pitchy," this one
was
much more so - not a comfortable thought - we decided to go around to
the
north-facing anchorage around the corner.

The charts showed a very narrow passage between the rocky extension of
Flamingo Cay and reefs and hard bars, so we picked our way down.
However,
it also showed only 10 feet or so in that little channel, but until we
got
close to the beach, we saw mostly 30-40 feet of depth. Sure enough, by
the
time we were around the top of the island, the waves dropped to nearly
nothing, and by the time we very securely hooked in about 10', the
water was
very nearly flat at 2:20 PM.

As we were anchoring, we saw a pigeon, of all things, looking like it
needed
a place to rest. Indeed, it did land aboard, but Portia was very
interested
in it, so, after trying a few places, it gave up and flew around
again. Too
bad, as we'd put out some water for it, and it looked like it really
wanted
to come check it out, but wherever we put it, there was Portia. It
even
tried to rest on the dinghy, but Portia was up the arch and into the
dinghy
in a flash, so it never got the rest or water it wanted.

Just as we were about to go off and explore, we saw a fishing boat
coming
into the harbor. Hailing them, we found that they were Miss Tritch
II, out
of Long Island. They were there to find conch, and, later, snapper. I
commented that they no doubt would have better luck than we, as we'd
been
struck out, mostly, and, aside from the stories above, not successful
in
catching fish, either!

They said they'd be spending the night there and then moving on. When
I
commented that we expected to be here for a few days, the captain said
that
it was supposed to go north in the evening, so they'd not stay there.
With
that thought in mind, after signing off, we headed to shore.

We'd seen what we later feel must have been range markers, a few
prominent
sticks, one with a radar reflector on it. That's because the eastern
side of
the beach had nothing in the way of any trail markers through the
dense
undergrowth. We did see, however, a huge conch ossuary. That is, so
many
very well aged conch shells that it looked like a wall, apparently
conch
fishermen discarded their empties there long ago, as none were
colorful.

Walking the beach, there was nothing but sand and scrub on the rocks
above
it until we reached the far end. Clambering up some rocks to a very
evident
marker, we found another trail. This one, too, was very well marked,
with
flip-flops stuck in branches every few feet, many cairns and the
occasional
bucket or plastic bottle.

Not nearly as well cut out, it still was an easy walk, and very soon
we came
to a pond. Unknown as to salt or fresh, it wasn't very deep, but it
was
empty of aquatic life like a blue hole would have been. On the other
hand,
the walk continued past numerous other ponds, teeming with tiny
shrimp.
Eventually, it let out into the anchorage we'd abandoned. A few nice
shells
later, including one tiny natural-death conch, after admiring yet
another
conch ossuary, we headed back.

About the most notable feature of the island is a dinghy-in cave on
the west
side. As the wind would not be out of the east for some time, we'd
probably
not get to do that immediately, so we figured we'd be there another
couple
of days. It was still well before dark, and as we were enjoying a
cold one,
we saw one of the launches aft of the fishing boat come out from
behind it,
and slowly head toward the beach. Once it got parallel to our stern,
it
headed in, apparently to say hello.

It turned out to be the captain, who had brought over 5 conch in a
plastic
bag, since we'd been having such lousy luck :{)) We of course
welcomed him
aboard. I'd given him a boat card when he came alongside, and he said
he
thought he'd heard the name somewhere before. Once aboard, in the
course of
conversation, we learned that, while not a client, he listened to
Chris
Parker, too (non-clients can usually get a pretty good idea of what's
going
on in their area by listening to not only the forecast but to clients
asking
about their particular needs), and had heard our boat name not only
just
that morning but frequently in the last few weeks. Heh. Not
surprising...

We learned a lot about his fishing life, including that a couple of
years
ago, the conch catch (that's meat, not the whole thing) was a million
pounds
a few years ago, on Long Island alone. At that time, it was fetching
$14 a pound, which was a very nice income for Long Island at the time.

I asked what they did with the many millions of pounds of shells after
they'd cleaned them. They empty them over reefs, which helps small
fish
habitat, and, eventually, of course, rot away. I'd also see his
diving
setup - a hookah rig, similar to ours, in the boat, along with a
weight
belt, both slung over the console in his launch. He said that the
Defense
Force ignored it, even though he thought that even Bahamians weren't
supposed to use air for harvesting. The usual hunting is in 20-30
feet of
water. While I didn't ask, I presume they stay down, for however long
it
takes, either tying them after knocking a hole in the bottom of the
lip of
the shell such as the lost string of 5 empties I'd found, or put them
in a
net to haul up after the harvest.

After a nice chat, he wished us well and went back to his crew. They
usually have 5-7 men aboard a 45' boat, one of whom does nothing but
cook.
Their freezer holds 10,000 pounds of whatever it is they've caught, we
learned, and they catch their snapper in traps, carried on the roof of
the
open area in the aft of the boat. They normally have three launches,
but
one of the men decided, after they'd been stuck at Water Cay for a
week in
nasty weather (the same stuff we'd been having all this time), to
return to
Long Island. He took one of the launches, and another went with him,
so
they were down to 5 aboard.

From that I infer two go out in a launch, perhaps taking turns diving
and
hauling up the harvest, or, perhaps, one goes out and returns with,
and
cleans, the catch, while the next fellow goes out hunting. In any
event, he
was a lovely fellow, Long Island born and bred. Say hi to Ricky
Carroll if
you see Miss Tritch II out there :{))

Following a late dinner (due to our extended visit), we noted that the
wind
had turned a bit north, and we were dangerously close to being over a
small
reef which had previously been off to our side. Letting out another
50' of
chain took care of that, and we turned in for the night after I'd
checked in
with the ham net..

Oops... The wind continued to clock, and therefore the light swell
which
had been coming into the opening to the north increased, along with
our
angle changing. At about 5:30 AM, we bumped, having now gone
perpendicular
to the beach rather than parallel to it, with the accompanying lesser
depth,
and, with the increased swell, were lifting enough to hit the bottom
on the
fall.

Not very comfortable, and, we presumed the wind would, according to
Chris'
forecast, both build and clock. Since we couldn't sleep with the
bumping
(not at all dangerous, but not very good sleeping), we decided to tune
into
Chris again after our first cup of coffee. However, this has gone on
long
enough, I think :{)) - so I'll leave you hanging...

Until the next time, Stay Tuned!

L8R

Skip and Crew

Morgan 461 #2
SV Flying Pig KI4MPC
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