Wednesday, January 21st: Green Turtle Cay
From the Wikipedia: A cay (also spelled key or quay; pronounced as "key" IPA: /kiː/) is a small, low-elevation, sandy island formed on the surface of coral reefs.
From the Wikipedia: A cay (also spelled key or quay; pronounced as "key" IPA: /kiː/) is a small, low-elevation, sandy island formed on the surface of coral reefs.
The town of New Plymouth on Green Turtle Cay
After crossing the Gulf Stream, we felt that we had "arrived" but the feeling was short lived. When we began to study guide books and charts, it was evident that there would be many more arrivals to come - each requiring study and planning.
When we first planned this trip, and before I began reading about sailing in the Bahamas - I pictured crossing from Florida, breathing a sign of relief, and then moving from island to island, from bay to bay in a leisurely relaxed way - soaking up the sun, walking through the sand and swimming in the warm water. Well not quite.
The Bahamas consists of two thousand cays and seven hundred islands that stretch north to south about 550 miles. A first glance at our Explorer chart book for the Northern Bahamas (where we are now) is confusing. While studying various pieces of the area with its myriad cays and channels, it's hard to get a picture of the whole. Where to next? What route to take? Will the shallow waters over Little Bahama Bank be deep enough when we set out? Should we be waiting for high tide? - and in the back of our minds, if we were to run aground, what recourse would we have?
When we left Old Bahama Bay last Thursday, as I described earlier, Sea Change led the way. Although we were following a charted channel, in the beginning there were some uncomfortable moments when the water was too shallow for comfort - but unless we wanted to hide out at Old Bahama Bay for the duration of our stay, there was not much choice but to carry on. Eventually we found ourselves in somewhat deeper water although since the islands and cays of the Bahamas sit on a kind of shelf in the Atlantic, we would seldom be traveling in water deeper than 3 fathoms (6 ft. per fathom) and the average depth we have so far encountered has been closer to 2 fathoms. Depths will remain minimal - until we make another "crossing" over the deep open waters that separate groups of islands and cays.
On our first day "out", we arrived, with relief, at the anchorage at Great Sale Cay at about 5 p.m. Our anchor dug in without problem. We are now in new anchoring territory meaning that the bottom here is much different than we have encountered before and the frequent high winds and their changing directions call for extra vigilance. A dragging anchor is more a threat than in it was when we were anchoring along the ICW. Indeed, the Mursells were to have a scary nighttime dragging experience at our next anchorage - Manjack Cay.
We stayed 2 nights at Manjack and what an idyllic place it was. There we paused to admire the sparkling absolutely clear waters and white sandy beaches on each side of the cay. The night we went over to Somewhere In Time for a pot luck dinner, the water was so clear that our dinghies looked as though they were suspended in air and during the day when we all went from our anchored boats in to the little island and walked along a nature trail to the beach on the other side, the view was awesome. The colours of the water were so bright - even brilliant - like the best "technicolor" movie with the water shaded from dark blue to shades of aqua-marine and turquoise. We will have to learn to read these colours as, here in the Bahamas, they are an indication of depth with the darkest blue waters indicating the greatest depth and brown patches warning of rock patches or coral heads.
When we first planned this trip, and before I began reading about sailing in the Bahamas - I pictured crossing from Florida, breathing a sign of relief, and then moving from island to island, from bay to bay in a leisurely relaxed way - soaking up the sun, walking through the sand and swimming in the warm water. Well not quite.
The Bahamas consists of two thousand cays and seven hundred islands that stretch north to south about 550 miles. A first glance at our Explorer chart book for the Northern Bahamas (where we are now) is confusing. While studying various pieces of the area with its myriad cays and channels, it's hard to get a picture of the whole. Where to next? What route to take? Will the shallow waters over Little Bahama Bank be deep enough when we set out? Should we be waiting for high tide? - and in the back of our minds, if we were to run aground, what recourse would we have?
When we left Old Bahama Bay last Thursday, as I described earlier, Sea Change led the way. Although we were following a charted channel, in the beginning there were some uncomfortable moments when the water was too shallow for comfort - but unless we wanted to hide out at Old Bahama Bay for the duration of our stay, there was not much choice but to carry on. Eventually we found ourselves in somewhat deeper water although since the islands and cays of the Bahamas sit on a kind of shelf in the Atlantic, we would seldom be traveling in water deeper than 3 fathoms (6 ft. per fathom) and the average depth we have so far encountered has been closer to 2 fathoms. Depths will remain minimal - until we make another "crossing" over the deep open waters that separate groups of islands and cays.
On our first day "out", we arrived, with relief, at the anchorage at Great Sale Cay at about 5 p.m. Our anchor dug in without problem. We are now in new anchoring territory meaning that the bottom here is much different than we have encountered before and the frequent high winds and their changing directions call for extra vigilance. A dragging anchor is more a threat than in it was when we were anchoring along the ICW. Indeed, the Mursells were to have a scary nighttime dragging experience at our next anchorage - Manjack Cay.
We stayed 2 nights at Manjack and what an idyllic place it was. There we paused to admire the sparkling absolutely clear waters and white sandy beaches on each side of the cay. The night we went over to Somewhere In Time for a pot luck dinner, the water was so clear that our dinghies looked as though they were suspended in air and during the day when we all went from our anchored boats in to the little island and walked along a nature trail to the beach on the other side, the view was awesome. The colours of the water were so bright - even brilliant - like the best "technicolor" movie with the water shaded from dark blue to shades of aqua-marine and turquoise. We will have to learn to read these colours as, here in the Bahamas, they are an indication of depth with the darkest blue waters indicating the greatest depth and brown patches warning of rock patches or coral heads. 
The morning after we arrived at Manjack Cay, Bob hoisted me up the mast to reattach the burgee halyard
(i.e. the line to haul up the club flag, also used to raise the radar reflector on foggy days)
(i.e. the line to haul up the club flag, also used to raise the radar reflector on foggy days)
We left Manjack Cay to get to a protected harbour as 2 cold fronts were coming through, one following the other, and we wanted to be securely tied up at a dock. So, after a long and bouncy ride with lots of sailing, here we are at Green Turtle Cay.
It's Wednesday, we arrived last Sunday and we will likely not set out again until this Friday or Saturday. There are 2 considerations. First, we need to wait for the high winds to calm and secondly, we must be sure that a short stretch of water open to the Atlantic, ominously called The Whale, is in good shape for passing through. This 2 mile long stretch of water, even when winds are calm, can be subject to "rages" making it impassible. We can determine the state of The Whale by listening to the local Cruiser's Net broadcast over VHF channel 68, each morning. For some reason, on Sea Change, we can't get much on this channel, so we have been relying on the Mursells for local weather reporting.
About Green Turtle Cay - we're staying at the Bluff House Marina - and guess what - it's kind of like being at another resort. It has it's own very nice bar and dining room overlooking the water, a pool (too cold for swimming right now) and a small but lovely sandy beach on the other side of this point of land. It's spooky though - there's almost no one here. At the top of the hill, the Bluff house hotel/lodge sits - with no guests. This month, the marina has a special - "eat your dock fees" - meals at the cafe/bar are deducted from fees for staying here. Not bad, especially since fees here are moderate - at least before you add the daily cost for electricity and water use (the water use is recorded on a meter).
Yesterday afternoon, Bob, Mary and I walked around to another spot on the bay where the Green Turtle Club sits. What a pretty facility - they have docks, mooring balls, a huge lovely dining room, a comfortable lounge and attractive bar - a well stocked gift shop and several staff members wandering around. There appears to be no guests - just staff. January is a slow month - but more than that, the economic downturn is keeping people away. Tonight, we plan to take our dinghies across and have a drink at the bar.
Day before yesterday, we took the Green Turtle "ferry" (smallish power boat) into the little
town of New Plymouth - a charming place - and bought a few groceries at a couple of the tiny grocery stores. At Sids' Groceries we bought our first locally baked bread - in this case, coconut bread (mm-good). There are a few cars and trucks on the island but the major form of transportation is by golf cart - perfect for the narrow little streets of the town and the short distances around the island. The homes near here have car port like parking pads for their golf carts. Some carts have big, all terrain wheels, presumably for dealing with the dirt roads and possibly muddy conditions after rain.Next stop for us is Marsh Harbor. Along with the Mursells, we want to get south as soon as possible - out of the cold north (well, everything is relative) - and into the Exhumas, where we can begin to breath easy, knowing that we will get to Staniel Cay (along the chain of Exhumas islands) in good time before Sean, Michelle and Krista fly in to meet us at the end of February.
The Woolseys will remain in the Abacos until their company flies home on February 2nd and then they will begin to move south also. To get to the Exhumas, we will be moving south from the Abocas Islands where we are now, and will make a 50 mile crossing over the deep blue water of the ocean to the Eleuthra chain of islands and then eventually, we'll sail to the Exhumas. It's not so far, but then again, while waiting for the good conditions for each crossing, it can seem very far indeed.
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