FULL SAIL

Warderick Wells

It might seem strange to check back in after all this time to tell you we are back in Warderick Wells. We are tucked into the north mooring field for yet another blow, although weather guru Chris Parker predicts this will be one of the last. The glorious trade winds will be settling in allowing us to waft back up the northern Exumas and across to Andros.

Since I last wrote, we sailed to an idyllic anchorage, all alone, behind Little Hall's Pond.

Photo by Chip

We sailed to Sampson to see the sharks.

No, not an aquarium. The marina at Sampson Cay.

To Staniel to snorkel in Thunderball.

To Black Point where our pet remoras hung out below.

Photo by Chip

Black Point was not intended to be our southernmost point, but the winds have shifted south for the season, and we have no interest in beating into them. So north it is with lovely upwind breezes and following seas.

To Compass, to Cambridge and back to Warderick, brought by the wind. That fuel gauge is still in the green.

There can be no complaint about sailing in the northern Exumas, its peek-a-boo water and white sand beaches. Eventually we'll sail across to Andros to finish the season -- and tell about when there's internet.

Spa day in Warderick. Photo by Chip

WARDERICK WELLS

Warderick Wells, Exumas, Bahamas
N 24º 23.843 | W 76º 37.97

Cara Mia has blown into Warderick Wells in the Exumas Land & Sea Park. Pardon the rudimentary map, but we are at the tip of the red arrow. I used up half my internet loading the google map page!

If you search this blog for "Warderick" you can see photos of our previous visits here, one of our favorite stops in the Exumas.

Since leaving Nassau on the 26th, we spent a few days in Rose Island, crossed to Highborne and stopped at Normans and Shroud Cays, all rather remote outposts with no internet.

Our stay in the Bahamas so far has been a game of running from weather. After a good blow tonight, they promise a week of settled weather, which will be a welcome relief from blows and bumpy anchorages.

From the time we left Palm Beach, we have only consumed 24 gallons of diesel, enjoying a season of beautiful sailing. Glorious, brought to you by the wind.

I promise detailed posts with photos once we have a better internet source.

Hope all is well.

Fair winds.

NASSAU ARRIVAL

We've made it out of the remote Berries and into Nassau after a gorgeous 10-hour sail across the Tongue of the Ocean. Whew. Remember the first time we crossed the Tongue?

We will have some internet while we're here, so I promise updates and photos soon.

All is well on s/v Cara Mia.

BLOW HO HO

White Cay, Berry Islands, Bahamas

"Be sure you're tucked in somewhere with west protection by sunset," weather guru Chris Parker said ominously on the SSB as we sat anchored in water wide open to the west.

Okay, 'wide open' is not quite correct. We were surrounded by flats, which break up any big swell, but do nothing about the wind.

The forecast was for a front to swoop through just after sunset (why always at night) kicking up 20-knot wind with periodic nasty squalls. The blow would end by noon the following day.

We looked at our options, debated and decided to reanchor a little further out and sit it out.

It wasn't a decision we were thrilled with but neither was it scary. Should the anchor give way, we would be blown toward sand, not rocks, and we would spend the night ready to pounce, get the anchor up and motor to safety. Not really relaxing but not dangerous either.

When I went forward to lift the anchor to move, I could see through the crystal water that our chain was wrapped and wrapped around a huge-ass rock. Very disconcerting.

I pointed, Chip turned the boat, I reeled in chain. We overshot, backed up and, what?!?! The chain was free. A pre-storm miracle.

We hunted and pecked around for almost an hour trying to find an ideal spot to anchor, no grass, good bit of sand, deep enough water in a 300-foot circumference so we could swing on anchor.

Finally at rest, some Bahamian fishermen motored up just before sunset and gave us a grouper in exchange for two beers.

"Do you think we'll have a big storm tonight?" I asked, assuming fishermen were good weathermen.

"Oh, no. We'll have a beautiful night," he said.

Bahamian fishermen v. Chris Parker. Any wagers?

Sure enough, we could see the front coming toward on the waning sunlight. As darkness fell, the wind kicked up.

There it is! Maybe it will pass north of us?

By midnight it was howling, and we were getting quite a ride on short, choppy water.

I lay in the v-berth going over my anchor drill, puzzling over how I would release both the snubbers, how much chain I would pull in before checking to see if it was piling up wrong (we had 125 feet out). I pondered how in the heck we would find a patch of sand in the dead of night when it had taken us 45 minutes to find one in the daylight.

The tide shifted around 2 a.m. putting the anchor against both wind and current. The snubbers groaned and the wind howled, but the anchor held. Every 30 minutes I opened up Navionics on the iPad to check our position. Our anchor held beautifully.

There was little sleep and a little nausea but nothing to report.

Would I do that again? Probably not. We were lucky that we didn't have squalls. Marsh Harbor to the north got a 50-knot squall with rain, lightning and hail. Eek.

Chris Parker: 1
Fishermen: 0

We rested today and are ready to sail south to Nassau. The farther south we get, the calmer the weather.

South! South!

An inland, saltwater blue hole.

Where some swam ....

... while others watched. Creepy.