April 3-4: Alice Town, Bimini to Chub Cay, Berry Islands

"No one would have crossed the ocean if he could have gotten off the ship in the storm." Charles Kettering

April 3: We departed the Blue Water Marina in Alice Town on the high tide. I had been planning my departure since I arrived.  My boat handling skills aren't bad, but there are some unfavorable aspects to Llyrical's boat handling. Chiefest of these is her strong tendency while reversing with any significant breeze to rotate and back directly into it regardless of where I attempt to steer. To put it another way, when you put her in reverse her bow will blow downwind if there is even 5 or 6 knots of breeze, much less 15-20.
Now a rational person would accept this and plan accordingly. However, hope springs eternal in my breast and once again I devised a plan to depart the slip despite a strong cross wind that would craftily overcome Llyrical's baser instincts and demonstrate my complete mastery of my vessel.  So, plan 'A'... walk her out till the stern is exposed and begins to blows down; use a midship spring line to further encourage the turn for a moment and then slip the line, shift into forward and voila! we would steam out of the fairway into the channel without further ado.  The actuality (also known as plan 'B')... walk her out till the spring line locks itself around the piling and snubs the boat to the dock; free the line and fend off; back hard with the rudder turned to leeward while the stern ignores the rudder and turns to windward instead. As the boats across the fairway loom large and their owners begin to stir, throw her into forward and hard right rudder turning her bow to leeward away from the channel (why fight it?). Throw her back into reverse holding hard right rudder and pray that she will begin to move backwards in time... and voila! we steamed backwards up the fairway and out into the channel.
This was to be our longest day. In fact, it was to be a two day run with an overnight anchor in exposed water in the middle of the bank.
Once out of the channel between North and South Bimini, the course was north to North Rock light, then south-east across the Grand Bahamas Bank.  In the deep water of the first leg, we encountered fairly heavy seas (4-5 ft), but once we got up on the Bank, the waves diminished to 2-3 ft. building a little as the wind picked up in the afternoon. We ran 11 hours that day, standing one-hour watches until just at dusk, I found a patch of 14 ft water over sand and deployed the anchor and 75 ft of chain. I had been nervous about this. Now, as the light faded, and the swells built to 4 or 5 ft., I watched Llyrical's bow blow down as though it was relatively unfettered by anchor and rode. Okay, bound to dig in by and by, I thought dropping another 25 ft of chain. Finally, the anchor dug in and held and the stern gradually began to work it's way to leeward. I set the snubber and an anchor alarm and rejoined the crew for a delightful dinner.
Sandra had made a fabulous Ethiopian stew with the last of our venison and some tasty red lentils before our departure from Miami. She served it with warm naan to my delight (but Michael's dismay... he wanted injera). Following dinner, we prepared for bed. Murphy and I set up in the cockpit for anchor watch. We answered hails from occasional boats that wanted to be sure that our anchor light was not the Russell Beacon, and cat-napped throught the night.
April 4: Up with the sun and away. We hauled anchor and headed east. The morning's run was pleasant but anticlimactic. The Northwest Channel proved straightforward and easy to negotiate and we were in Chub Key by lunch-time where we refueled and rested. Chub Cay was a disappointment. Chub Cay was designed to cater to large sports fishing boats (over 40 ft), but it had failed financially and was limping along, incomplete and a little sad. I guess that's why we were allowed in. In any case, along with the unfinished clubhouse were unfinished showers. While a walk of a half mile around the marina did grant access to a grungy cinderblock building with showers and another with a laundry, the facilites did not live up to the facade nor the outrageous $4/ft slip fees. To make matters worse, Chub Cay appears to have double charged us (the equivalent of $8 per foot). On the up side, I will certainly store the memory of Sandra and I walking along the pristine beach at sunset while Murphy played in the surf. John