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Crossing the Gulf Stream and Other Passages
by Shirley MacVean
Crossings -- some people love them, some don't. We happen to be of the second variety. Crossing, as we understood it when we began, was any passage out of the sight of land. This may be true, but the ones that have earned our respect are the ones that involve lots of really deep water, or the trips that involve an overnight passage. One of the first things we learned is to spend enough time in each new area that the crossing recedes in your mind. They are only one day out of your lives, and you just need to stay long enough to smell the flowers in between each passage. Take in the culture, the sights and the people.
Please understand we really haven't made that many crossings, not when compared to veteran cruisers who have been doing this for years. The first rule of crossings is that you can't push the weather; patience is a must. Without a doubt, the crossings that most people really dread are the Gulf Stream crossings. They definitely warrant concern and attention to the weather, as weather systems can vary greatly from the Bahamas to the east coast of Florida. We feel that some of the other crossings have been equally interesting.
Because the Gulf Stream runs from the southeast around the tip of Florida, the ideal forecast for that crossing is for southeast to south winds from 10-15 knots. The Gulf Stream can develop big, steep waves if the wind comes from anywhere north of southwest. We left on our first Gulf Stream crossing from Angelfish Creek in the Florida Keys after we had recovered from Hurricane Mitch, and after the wind and seas had calmed down. We had met this couple in a 26-foot boat who have been making this crossing for nine years. Their philosophy is similar to ours, and they had the local knowledge of Angelfish Creek, as well as the entrance to Bimini. So as long as we agreed with what they were reading for weather, we decided to follow them.
Our first Gulf Stream crossing was in our Catalina 30. This was also our first deep-water passage. Both of us were rather apprehensive, but it really was a piece of cake! We crossed from Angelfish Creek to Gun Cay on Sunday, November 15. We followed our friends all the way, and I mean, we actually had them in sight the entire time. The crossing was not anything like either of us thought it would be. In Macís mind, the Gulf Stream was much calmer than he expected. I was surprised by the amount of correction we had to make for the Gulf Stream. The crossing also took much longer than either of us expected (12 hours for 51 miles), and felt different than we expected, but we made it. Except for the amount of time it took, this crossing was really idyllic. We had chosen our weather window carefully. We did not arrive at Gun Cay until almost dark. About an hour before we saw land, we overheard a female voice squeal on the radio, ìI see the Bahamas!î The first glimpse of the crystal-clear aqua water took my breath away as I dropped the anchor in 10 feet of water and watched the sand blow up in slow motion as the anchor fell on the bottom through the aquamarine water. We had completed our first crossing and were spending our first night in the Bahamas! We felt a tremendous sense of accomplishment.
The only hitch in the entire crossing was the water in the bottom of the boat. The Catalina had an extremely shallow bilge, and about two hours from Gun Cay we discovered 2 inches of water in the main salon. Pulling up the carpet, Mac discovered a failed float switch. He waited until we got anchored to repair this. For the rest of the trip, we turned on the bilge pump every 10 minutes to keep the boat afloat. Next, we decided we must ascertain the route of the incoming water. We pulled everything out of the garage, otherwise known as the quarterberth, and Mac tightened the rudderpost. It continued to leak throughout our deep-water passages. There are too many parts and supplies in the stern of this coastal cruiser. As we slid down the deep swells, the stern would dig down, allowing seawater to enter through the rudderpost. We learned to make sure the bilge pump ran its cycle of on for one minute and off for the next.
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The next time we crossed the Gulf Stream, having a little more confidence, as well as a larger boat, we chose a slightly different route. This time we crossed from Rodriguez Key in Key Largo to South Riding Rock, then across the Bahama Bank to the Northwest Channel and then headed on to Nassau. We were 33 hours en route. We had taken three crossings, used the appropriate, necessary weather window, and combined them into one. Was it comfortable? No! Would we do it again this way? Yes! None of those crossing were ever really enjoyable to us (though there are people who enjoy them). The crossing began receding in our minds as soon as it ended! We got them all done at once. So, we were punchy when we arrived! In our Catalina, Catís Paw, the passage through the entrance to the Tongue of the Ocean would have been close to untenable. The two boats we were traveling with headed for Chub Cay, where they ended up staying for a week waiting for the next weather window. Our refrigeration cut out as we crossed the Gulf Stream (part of the reason we headed directly to Nassau). Mac diagnosed it as best he could while we were under way, to no avail. Upon our arrival, after tracing all the electrical wires, he found out that the hull had come far enough out of the water that the cooling intake had sucked air, which had caused an air lock in the cooling hoses. The intake was three feet below the water line. Yes, it was lumpy!
Our next crossing was to be from Bimini to Great Harbor in the Berry Islands. We had opted to go this route because we wanted to avoid the tip of the Tongue of the Ocean in our little Catalina 30. In listening to veteran cruisers, this piece of water can have really nasty deep, steep swells. Had we sailed directly for either Chubb Cay or Nassau, we would have had to sail over the wall from the shallow Bahama Banks over the 1000-foot trench at this northern tip of the Tongue.
The trip certainly did not begin on an auspicious note. It was three oíclock in the afternoon, and we were using the spinnaker halyard to put the dinghy up on deck when the spinnaker block blew apart with the dinghy suspended 3 inches over the deck. I had to shinny up the mast holding on with one hand as I took the back end of the main halyard and tied a bowline into the tow eye of the dinghy with the other. Mac then raised the dinghy another 2 inches off the deck to take the pressure off the spinnaker block. Of course, I then had to stretch up two more inches to undo the shackle and attach a control line to it so that the halyard wouldn't tangle itself in the rigging as we crossed the northern end of the Great Bahama Bank on our way to the Berries. That afternoon we had provided quite an entertaining site for the entire anchorage with our dinghy swinging over the deck. What a wonderful way to begin our first overnight passage!
The trades were blowing out of the southeast, but finally settled down to below 15, at least until after dark, when they picked up, as they apparently do frequently. Our poor little boat pounded and pitched all night. It was a long night. The hours from three to six are always the longest. We arrived safe, though weary, in Bullockís Harbor at 10 a.m. the next morning. Part of the reason we pitch-poled was because the weight of shipís stores was not equally distributed. Our light Catalina didn't have much room for stuff, and we had been using up stuff in the middle of the boat. I had not moved other stuff from the bow and stern to the main salon. After completing the 17-hour overnight crossing, we pulled into Great Harbor Marina, which has to be the best hurricane hole we have ever seen. The crossing was not bad, but we now realized how important it was to balance this boat. With each step we learned something new.
Our next crossing from the Berries to Nassau really involved a wait for weather. By the time we had taken in the sights at Great Harbor and the surrounding area, the wind had cranked to 25 plus knots, where it remained for a week. Even the fishing boats were hunkered down! We remained anchored off Great Harbor, waiting for the winds, which were blowing at 20 to 30 knots, to subside, and for the seas to drop from 8 to 10 feet to less than 5 feet.
We finally crossed to Nassau on December 9. Somehow, the crossings kept getting easier. On the eighth, we realized that our weather window had finally arrived, but it was apt to close within 36 hours. Since we had 65 miles to Nassau and could only plan on averaging 5 knots, we left at midnight, made really good time, and arrived at the dock by one oíclock that afternoon. We were definitely glad that we had made the long crossing because the next day the wind returned to 25 knots.
About an hour out from Nassau, we hooked a rainbow jack. When Mac brought the fish into the boat, he exclaimed, "We can't keep him; heís too pretty!" Our cat, Nanook, peered out from under his towel and requested that we only catch ugly fish from now on. (By the way, Nanookís method of making passages is to travel with a towel over him so he couldn't see his world moving.)
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