We said farewell to Bimini at 7:15am on Saturday, January 22nd. The winds were lightly blowing 5-10 knots out of the Northwest, perfect for a leisurely 30-hour sail headed Southwest to Highbourne Cay, one of the Northern most islands in the Exuma chain.
And leisurely it was. We flew the spinnaker, God Bless, for a good portion of the sail. Somewhere along the way, I lost my sunglasses, couldn’t find my back up glasses, and had to wear Blake’s backups, the Pit Vipers. I even got use Puff Daddy in the cockpit to get a nap in.
Around sunset, a fog set in along the Great Bahama Bank. Fog on the water is always the most eerie and this time was no exception. We sailed through the evening. I remember when I was coming up for my 12am watch, Blake went straight down below to bed without saying a word. This was more eerie than any fog. I asked him if anything happened or if I need to be aware of anything and he mumbled no and went back to sleep. He was apparently exhausted and luckily the seas were calm and I did not have to wake him until his watch at 3am.
The sun rose and we started fishing. Three hours later, we caught what we thought was an Amber Jack but it was too small, about 14 inches, and we decided it was an Almaco Jack, which up to this point I’ve been calling an Alamo Jack. That’s just the Texas in me…Remember the Alamo. Anyway, we had fish tacos for dinner that night.
On January 23rd, shortly after 2:00pm we arrived in Highbourne Cay and within 4 minutes after dropping and setting the anchor, Blake had his snorkel gear on and was in the water. Believe it or not, we were anchored right off the stern of a boat from Kemah, TX; a boat Blake had done some engine work on. What a small world!
One would think, we would have a peaceful sleep and get up and explore the next morning…WRONG! In our experience thus far, that was the worst night at anchor. Around midnight, the winds began blowing strongly from West, between 20-30 knots. The seas felt violent; six foot waves were breaking in the anchorage. Being down below was nauseating so we both grabbed our sleeping bags and laid in the cockpit, praying that rain would not be accompanying this front, and thankfully it did not. We, along with about 20 other boats, were sitting ducks.
You may be thinking, why not just pull up anchor and move to a more protected area. Number one it was the middle of the night and the Bahamas has shoals and coral heads everywhere, which requires using your eyes, not just following charts. Secondly, when Blake went to let out more anchor chain, he nearly lost a finger, when he underestimated how much tension was on the snubber line, a rope that ties onto the anchor chain. So we stayed put, on a lee shore, which meant that if our anchor failed to hold, Josephine would be pinned against the jagged rocks of Highbourne Cay. Lucky for us, our oversized 45lb Manson Supreme anchor was dug in and held strong. Who says size doesn’t matter?
At sunrise, we were out of there, and two hours later we arrived in the protected anchorage of Norman’s Cut, off Norman’s Cay. Sweet relief.
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