We left Palm Beach just after day break on Monday, by all forecasts a stellar day for a cross Gulf Stream sail. The sea was flat, my friends. We found the shelf dropped quickly and with it our bearings. Literally. The depth stopped reading, which is a bit unnerving when you are heading for water that barely floats your boat. A brief investigation unveiled the settings of the depth finder in the 300 feet range and a depth in the thousands of feet range. Welcome to the deep blue.
We had the most confident feeling that nary a sailboat made such an idyllic crossing. We repeatedly asked whether we were in the stream or not. How wide is the stream? Is that flotsam the end? Is that foam line the end? The only breaks in the calm blue were flying (no, running?) fish. The fish would emerge from the water and seem to run on its tail for 50 yards. We startled quite a few. Land Ho! With Memory Rock on the horizon Justin adjusted our course to squeeze through a couple shipwrecks and some rocks and onto the Little Bahama banks. Our depth went from unreadable (still?? Should we be nervous?), to 40s, to 11 (this one goes to 11). What an amazing feeling to make this crossing and end up in a turquoise wonder. The level of excitement for everyone was high but the kids were a bit like the depth finder over the Gulf Stream. They moved quickly about, squealing with each fish sighting.
2000 foot deep Gulf Stream blue
Can we go swimming? Look fish. Look starfish. Look shark. Transom down and feet dragging. Can we go swimming? Can we go swimming? Justin stalled the boat and everyone (Justin and I tag teamed) jumped off the bow. The feeling that we made it, that we traveled as a family all the way from Maine on this boat, was quite overwhelming. This was by far the ‘easiest’ transit and yet it marked the reality. As a family, we sailed (and motored) nearly 2500 miles. And for the first time, we left our country and arrived in a new one. A whole new world. Cue the Disney music.
Trite but true. In ways at which the travel down the east coast of the US could not hint, we were beginning our adventure. We were entering seas and states unfamiliar. We hoisted the quarantine flag and continued our pristine crossing of the banks. Until Justin could check us in with the Bahamas, we were (and are) confined to the boat. I won’t tell about our swim(s) if you won’t…Our destination for the afternoon was Mangrove Cay. A blip. A bird’s home with trees as far as the ‘land’ could reach. Roots marking its boundaries. No cove. Nothing but something to tag. Dropping anchor here was a place setting. The shallow water stretched for hours. In any type of sea there was no real protection but there was no ‘sea’.
Swimming. Delight. Grilling our dinner. A sailor’s paradise. Closer to sunset, another sailboat arrived and set up on the other side of the cay. In this situation, there is comfort in numbers. Still our night was marked with sleeplessness. General anxiety in being in a place unchecked in, out there with no protection, out of ‘signal’, and the buildup of all the prior nights short-sleeped and moving left both Justin and I excited to get going at first break of day. On to Spanish Cay. To get checked in. To get our stamps on our passports (the kids’ first). To fuel up, in all regards. To settle down for a few days and take it all in. This adventure, now reality. A great day.
Stay tuned and much love.
1 Comment
Phew glad to read this, knew you were fine but it was a little unnerving when I couldn’t see you move on my little map for a while.
I bet the waters are magnificent and the children must be totally going crazy being able to see the fish so clearly. I am so excited for you all, you have come so far and I can’t wait to see what comes next.