A Tale of Two Chemists: The Big Passage - Nassau to Fernandina Beach

The Big Passage - Nassau to Fernandina Beach … Sunday 7th - Wed 10th April

The Facts …

Timing + Speed

We left the dock at Nassau Harbor Club at 8am on Sunday 7th April and arrived at Fernandina Beach, the most northern point on the east coast of Florida, shortly before 8am on Wednesday 10th April.

Overall we covered about 450 nautical miles in 72 hours at an average speed of just over 6 knots.

At some points in the Gulf Stream, assisted by the current, we were making more than 10 knots over the ground.

Route

NNW from Nassau up the North East Providence Channel, around the northern tip of the Berry Islands and NW up the North West Providence Channel, passing Freeport on Grand Bahama Island to reach the Gulf Stream about 40 miles east of West Palm Beach. We then rode the Gulf Stream northwards for more than 100 miles before heading westwards to the St Mary’s River inlet and Fernandina Beach. We had to deviate from our intended route out of the Gulf Stream to avoid a naval “live-fire” exercise with a 15 mile exclusion zone centered exactly where we wanted to go.

Operations

We travelled in loose convoy with our friends Lee and Lynn in “Serendipity”, typically sailing within a mile of each other, within sight and radar contact, talking on the radio on a 2 hourly schedule.
We tried to log our position every hour, although we did miss a few entries later on the trip
During the day we would take it in turns to helm, switching every hour or so.
In the hours of darkness we had planned to split the time into 3 hour periods 9pm-12, 12-3am and 3am-6am, with each person taking one period on watch, one period up in the cockpit supporting the watch keeper and one period below sleeping. This worked well on Tuesday night, but we didn’t follow it well on Sunday night and it fell apart completely on Monday night because Mike was feeling pretty sick and contributed little to the action. Bob, with Gloria in support, did a long period on watch before Mike recovered enough to take over at 4am.

Weather, Conditions and Sailing

In general the weather was good with just a few drops of rain from a passing squall on Monday afternoon
Sunday – E winds 15 knots gusting to 20 knots, declining to 10-15 knots in the afternoon. Bumpy seas in the North East Providence Channel, particular off Nassau, with significant waves coming inform the NE. Fast sailing on a beam reach.
Sunday night – winds and seas subsiding in the NW Providence Channel. Winds too light to make effective progress under sail alone, therefore motor sailed on autopilot through the hours of darkness
Monday morning – light winds from SE and long period swell from NE. Sailing on a broad reach up the Gulf Stream. Seas building considerably during the day with shorter period waves overlaying a substantial swell.
Monday night – lively and uncomfortable seas with 10-15 knot winds out of ESE. Motor sailing with the main to provide more control and ensure we had enough battery power to run the autopilot continuously in case Mike and Gloria became further incapacitated with sea-sickness.
Tuesday – seas settling and wind 10-12 knots from SE. Sailed from 4 am onwards. Turned westwards in mid afternoon and close hauled, “crabbing” our way across the Gulf Stream to avoid naval exercises.
Tuesday night – winds too light to fill sails, motored gently on autopilot towards St Mary’s river inlet

Fishing

Despite trolling an enticing lure all day Monday and Tuesday we failed to catch any fish!

Bob’s Impressions … “My adventures aboard Cotinga”

My adventure began with a flight into Nassau, Bahamas where I was scheduled to meet up with Mike and Gloria at the Nassau Club Marina. I was impressed with the friendliness of the Bahamians I met in the airport. I wasn’t as impressed with their driving after the cab took me the 20 miles or so to the marina, it was amazing we made it there in one piece. Mike and Gloria met me at the dock where I was introduced to their friends Lee, Lynn, and their dog Maggie, these very pleasant people were to be our traveling companions on our adventure to make the 450 mile crossing from Nassau to Ferdnandina Florida.

Mikes reputation as chef extraordinaire was immediately confirmed, since my arrival time was so near dinner, Mike set about to make one the most delicious fish bouillabaisse one could possibly imagine. The fish included the last of the mahi mahi they had caught from the back of the boat earlier in the week. Lynn and Lee were invited to join us for the feast. The next day was spent provisioning for the long trip and preparing the boats for the long trek north. Mike far-sightedly decided to make up meals for the trip in advance. These included a delicious beef carbonnade and an equally succulent Hungarian goulash. Needless to say we didn’t go hungry during our three and a half day trip, in fact, we all looked forward to the next meal of the day.

The trip itself was filled with wonder and beauty the entire way. I witnessed the most awesome sunset I have ever seen about 60 miles off the coast of Florida. On the second night in the gulf stream during heavy seas, a flying fish crash-landed between Gloria and I, we tried to find it in the dark to no avail, when the sun rose that morning, Mike found it near the railing. He promptly hooked it onto his fishing line and used it for bait to try to get fresh fish for dinner. On the third morning of our trip, when we were in the gulf stream, just off the coast of Florida, We received an emergency broadcast from the US Navy stating that any boat that was in audible zone of that broadcast may be in the target area of a war games exercise that was being conducted. Mile and Lee had to immediately design a new course that would get us quickly out of the danger zone.

It was my pleasure to be a part of this wonderful adventure. I will always be grateful to Mike and Gloria for allowing me to share this experience with them.

Gloria’s Impressions …

When we left on Sunday morning, I was fairly apprehensive about the passage. Our previous longest open water sail had been 20 hours down the coast of New Jersey. Three days on the sea felt like a very ambitious undertaking. Knowing that both Mike and I get seasick, it was comforting to have Bob along. Bob has apparently never been seasick. At the same time as he wasn’t very familiar with our boat or our electronics, we couldn’t think that we could leave it all to Bob if we were both seasick on the passage.

The departure from the dock at Nassau went very smoothly with the help of a deck hand from the marina. (Having three people on board also makes a difference in terms of letting go the lines and getting dock lines and fenders tidied away). Many boats were on the move Sunday morning, judging by how hard it was to get in radio contact with Harbor Control (for permission to leave the harbor). Once we had cleared the breakwater at the west entrance of Nassau, we turned to windward to raise the sail. The waves were large and steep and I wondered how much of the trip would be like this. The idea of retreating to Nassau Harbor did occur to me. Soon we had both sails trimmed and were underway. The seas were large with a short period. I found that I was feeling a bit crummy even though I had taken the meclizine. To me the conditions didn’t bode well for the next three days. We carried on sailing in a northwesterly direction, heading for the northern end of the Berry Islands.

As noon approached, I found myself cursing my stupidity because I had considered making sandwiches before setting out but failed to do so. This was where Bob’s ability to tolerate being below started to really shine. He made sandwiches for all of us. We carried on feeling more optimistic. One of the things that worried me was how we would manage the night. At that point, neither Mike nor I could tolerate more than a few minutes in the cabin. How could anyone rest during their off watch without being able to lie down below? Also as we got near the Berry Islands the water depth became about 70 feet, leading to even steeper seas.

As the afternoon wore on though, the wind began to ease, and as the wind decreased the seas began to settle down. The night hours suddenly seemed more possible. Mike went below and warmed up the Belgian Beef Stew for dinner. It’s amazing how a hot meal can make the world seem better. As darkness approached, we discussed watch assignments. on the watches. The schedule of three hour watches with two people on at all times meant three hours of sleep for each person. I confess that this sounded like a version of Hades to me. I’ve mostly been getting ten hours of sleep a night. The very idea that three hours of sleep would be ‘it’ seemed insane. Things turned out quite differently than planned.

Bob and I took the first watch. We were travelling through the Northwest Providence Channel between the Berry Islands and Great Bahama Island. As darkness thickened, the radar screen lit up the vessels large and larger. This kept the two of us (especially me) in a state of near panic. Mike had to come out and tell us that Serendipity was calling for the 10 pm radio check. He seemed surprised that we were failing at the first hurdle. In my view avoiding collisions was pretty important! By the time midnight arrived, I think we had seen an entire fleet of cruise ships and a fair few cargo vessels. I was worn out with the traffic. Added to this was my shock at experiencing real midnight—not cruiser’s midnight. Mike came on watch, without having had any sleep whatsoever. He offered to take the helm, even though it was meant to be my watch. After sitting for a while, I lay down on the cockpit bench and fell asleep. When a larger than average wave woke me, Mike suggested that I go below to sleep. I was only too glad to accept that offer.

A few hours later, a change in engine sound startled me awake. The time was about 3:30 am. I got on some layers and my harness and life jacket and went out into the cockpit. Mike was cold and tired. I took over the helm and was surprised to see land off our starboard side. Our route took us ‘close’ to Freeport on Grand Bahama Island and these were the lights I was seeing. Thinking that we had reached a sort of milestone of the trip was encouraging. I started to think that we might actually succeed with our passage. Also I knew that West End, just further along the coast, was only about sixty miles from Florida. It seemed to me that if things got really tough, we could just make a run for West Palm Beach.

At some points during these long dark nights, particularly when under sail, I would find myself thinking of all the people who have done this over the centuries. Strangely, I think of those who have listened to slap of a wave on the hull, heard the creaking of the rigging and been rocked by the action of the waves on a boat. I had this thought many times while sailing but for the first time it occurred to me that it wasn’t just the sensory input that I shared with all these former sailors. Most likely they experienced that same anxiety regarding the future and that fear of the possible conditions ahead.

At about 5:30 am, Bob appeared in the cockpit. He wanted to know why we hadn’t woken him. We tried to explain that the watches hadn’t gone to plan so I was rested enough to take over at 3:00. I got the impression that he didn’t believe us. As it turned out it was a blessing that Bob had got more rest … Around about this time, just as we were off West End, we could see a glow in the sky to the west. Even with my limited skills as a mariner, I knew that couldn’t be the start of daylight. What we were seeing was light pollution from Miami some 50 miles away. That was an astonishing idea to me. Within an hour we began to see daylight. The advent of dawn seemed to lift our spirits. The first day was behind us.

Mike went down into the cabin to make breakfast of French Toast and coffee. It was very welcome. We continued to motor-sail onward to the northwest until we neared a waypoint indicating that we were in the Gulf Stream. Once we got into the Gulfstream, we could notice a gentle long period swell. The winds started to build and with that the swells rapidly increased to about 6 or 8 feet. By lunchtime, Mike was feeling pretty seasick despite (or possibly because of) having taken more seasick medicine. Once again we arrived at meal time with neither Mike or I able to go below. Bob stepped into the breech, preparing ham and cheese sandwiches for us. Mike did little more than pick at the cheese on his sandwich. He didn’t even touch the potato chips! I knew he must feel pretty crappy. We had some discussion of how we would manage to get through the night. Mike said of the seas—this is it, the waves aren’t going to get any better until we get out of the Gulf Stream (after 100 miles!). I realized this worrying was just what I had gone through on Sunday, when things turned out much better than expected. I tried to tell Mike that he should concentrate on feeling better. Somehow we would get through the night—especially with help from Bob. Bob was more rested, very willing and didn’t get sick. He would be our mainstay for the night. At this point the seas were rolling the boat from port to starboard, a particularly unpleasant motion. Added to that, the sun had been shining all day. The cabin, which had been tightly closed for more that 24 hours, was hot and stuffy. When I went below to use the head, I came back to the cockpit feeling horrible. I resolved not to drink any more water so I wouldn’t have to go below to the head.

One of the interesting things seemed to be how differently I viewed the prospect of the night from the reality of the day. We might have winds and waves bigger than I liked in the day, I would be scared or worried but able to cope. Thinking about the nights would bring a horrible sick feeling, more akin to terror. As the late afternoon approached, Mike began to get worse again. He went below for some reason and came up carrying the plastic bag. He looked almost green in color. That sick feeling in my stomach got much worse. It worried me a lot that Mike seemed so unwell. It’s one thing to have the dishwasher feeling rough, when the captain is sick, that’s another thing. Also, Mike had done the route planning with Lynn and Lee. He knew the names of the waypoints that had been entered into the GPS. Bob and I had been relying on him to set the course to the next waypoint. If the captain were to be out of action how would we manage? Why hadn’t I sat in on the planning session? If I had done, I would have felt somewhat more confident about getting through the rest of the trip. That was a learning point for me. Everyone in the crew should get in on the route planning enough to know the general plan, what the waypoints are called and how to pull them up on the chart-plotter to set the course to the next point.

Once again Bob was called into action to warm up the dinner of goulash. Neither Mike nor I could stand to be below for anything more than minutes. We went down to the cabin and bolted back up to the cockpit like scalded cats. It seemed amazing that Bob could stay below, warm up food and even do the dishes after the meal. Thank goodness he could, I’m not sure how we would have managed without him.

We were now sailing northward in the Gulf Stream with a southeasterly wind. We were following Serendipity and having some trouble keeping up. Although she wasn’t far away at some points the waves would block all but the top third of her sail from our view. Mike suggested that we furl the genoa and motor-sail with just the main. This would allow us to power the electronics, lights and auto-pilot without worrying about the battery power. I thought this seemed like a terrific suggestion that would take some of the anxiety out of the night, having less sail to manage. In view of the rough conditions, our plan was for the three of us to spend the night in the cockpit.

Mike and I tried to rest on the benches while Bob took the helm. We got through the first watch mostly relying on Bob. Later at one radio check, I had a conversation with Lee about changing the plan and heading for the ‘original’ (or eastern) waypoint in the Gulf Stream rather than the western waypoint. (It turns out Mike and Lee had planned two alternative waypoints at the northern part of our Gulf Stream leg). Serendipitiy were struggling to go so nearly dead down wind. The threat of an accidental gybe in daylight is one thing at night it seems an unacceptable risk. While I was the conduit for this conversation, I didn’t really know quite what this meant in terms of our route. Bob and I decided to slow up to let Serendipity catch up. Once they came level with our position they were about a mile to starboard. Happily, I had the thought that we should close the gap with them and not worry about the course. This meant we didn’t have to bother Mike who might have actually been resting at that moment.

At about 1 am, I went below and slept for a few hours. I was startled awake by the sound of the engine going off. The clock told me it was 4:30 am. I dragged on my layers, harness and lifejacket thinking that something awful might have happened. In the cockpit, Mike was at the helm as Bob had finally gone to bed. and Mike had decided that now that daylight was approaching and conditions had stabilized that it was reasonable to switch off the engine and use sail alone. Watching out for another sailing vessel at night is like watching for a ghost. True, we could see their stern light some of the time, except when waves blocked it out. Mostly though the pale appearance of their sail was what I saw. Passages on nights with no moon are so much harder. You see lots of stars but not much else. If only the weather windows could be timed with the full moon! Mike and I kept the remainder of the watch. Dawn came and we had survived another night.

When Bob woke up he made coffee and breakfast. We continued on a broad reach sailing mostly north. Our plan was to go north until we were a little shy of due east from Fernandina and then turn to sail westwards allowing for some northerly drift until we came out of the Gulf Stream – thus avoiding the dead down wind sail (to the northwest). This all changed dramatically when we heard the Securite call over the radio for a warship at a lat-long that sounded pretty close to us. This proved to be right on our path. The 15-mile exclusion zone would mean we would need to divert our route. We consulted Serendipity on the radio. Proposals and counterproposals were flying back and forth. A further Securite message mentioned live-fire exercises. That got our attention! The plan was quickly formulated and finalized. We executed a gybe to turn onto a westward course. We found we had to steer about 230 with the boat just barely making 270. The Gulf Stream that was stil sweeping us northward and we were moving crab-wise across the current. The afternoon wore on this way with quite slow progress as the winds decreased. Finally we came out of the Gulf Stream, cleared the exclusion zone and could head toward the north-west again. The GPS indicated that we were some 60 nmiles from Fernandina. The winds had mostly died away; the seas were a gentle swell. Our captain managed to get an hour of sleep—his first for the trip. Things were looking up. The big concern now was to adjust our speed to arrive a daybreak rather than in the dark. Everyone started to feel that we had “done it”. I was worried that we had that mountaineering euphoria that can set in at the summit.

We had left overs for dinner. Once again Bob did the work in the galley. He truly was an invaluable addition to our crew. I stood the first two watches with Mike and Bob, then slept from 3 to 6 am. Bob woke me just as we were reaching the outer markers for Fernandina. The inlet was negotiated without much difficulty. Soon we were ferretting in the locker for the boat hook. We picked up the mooring smoothly—threading the eye with a dockline that had been left on the bow for the whole trip! We had arrived. We were happy but could only really think about sleep. We all retired to our bunks for a couple of hours.

On awaking I thought about how happy we had been to reach Fernandina the first time. It meant we had finally got to Florida and we were pleased with ourselves. Now Fernandina represented our return to the US. Fernandina will always be associated with these happy feelings of accomplishment!

Mike’s Impressions …

I was very keen to do a longer passage to see how it felt and whether it was something that we would enjoy doing more of in the future. I was feeling very confident when we left Nassau – we know the boat is strong and we had a good weather forecast. The only question was how would we the crew hold up? I think we were all quite surprised by how bumpy the seas were as we came out of Nassau harbor. They probably hadn’t had enough time to settle after the passing cold front, but we were keen to make headway and give ourselves a decent window of weather in case the journey took us longer than expected. I actually enjoyed sailing on Monday and felt that we made great progress. However, I did feel a bit queasy during the day and was struggling to imagine how we would cope as it became dark. Fortunately the seas settled down quite a lot and Sunday night went just fine. I took the first “sleep” period but was unable to sleep at all, only lie down and rest. (This became a significant problem and it wasn’t until Tuesday night that I actually managed to get any real sleep). When I came back on deck around 11.30 pm it was to find Gloria and Bob managing a major traffic situation with large ships all around. It seems that every cruise ship out of Florida comes down the NW Providence Channel and they all travel at night so their guests can spend the days on shore. It’s easy to see them but can they see you and even If they can does it make any difference? They just keep plowing forward at high speed and the little sailboats just need to get out of the way. In the early hours of Monday morning I was shocked to realize that the sun does not rise in the West, but that you can see the glow from Florida 50 miles or more to the east. As Monday went by I became increasingly concerned about the sea state and felt increasingly unwell. I had taken Stugeron at the outset of the trip and on the recommended schedule thereafter, but I was still feeling disorientated and nauseated. I know I am susceptible to seasickness but have managed well up until this point. Strangely enough, Gloria, who also suffers from seasickness, didn’t seem to be bothered by it so much this time. Maybe I overdosed on the Stugeron or maybe lack of sleep exacerbated the situation. I tried to go below and sleep on Monday evening, but every time I went below it was so bumpy I had to come back on deck. So I just lay down in the cockpit and other than asking the odd question did very little to help. I not only felt physically lousy, I also felt really bad for being such a weak link in the crew. Bob did a fantastic job, not only on watch during those night hours, but also going below to sort out food etc. Gloria too was very strong and helped us get through this period. In the early hours of Tuesday morning I put on a Scopolamine patch and I think this helped and by dawn it seemed like things were going better. From that point on, other than having to navigate around the naval exclusion zone, things went pretty smoothly. The seas were much more settled once we came out of the Gulf Stream and we had a fantastic sunset on Tuesday evening. We actually set up the cockpit table and sat and ate dinner in style as we sailed very gently towards our destination. Overall this was a tremendous experience and I think we learned a lot. Throughout the trip it was really comforting to be able to see “Serendipity” and talk to Lynn and Lee on the radio. I suspect that had Gloria and I been on our own, we would have bailed out on Monday and headed westwards into Fort Pierce. It was fantastic to have Bob Knowles aboard as an extra crew-member. Not only is he one of the nicest and most easy-going people I have met, but he also doesn’t get seasick – the perfect attributes of a sailor! The contrast between Bob and Gloria and I could not have been more obvious. During the roughest sections he would head down into the boat and happily set about whatever jobs needed doing, whereas Gloria and I would minimize the time we spent below. I do remember on Monday night thinking “never again” and that might actually be right decision. Whilst I would dearly love to be able to travel further, I’m not sure that either Gloria or I actually enjoy offshore sailing – it seems to be more a means to an end. Gloria was a total star remaining strong and contributing throughout. But she too can get seasick and if we are going to do more passages we need to figure out how to overcome the seasickness and also how to get some decent sleep. I’d be very wary doing a passage like this one again without having additional crew on board.

…After the passage

Having picked up a mooring at Fernandina Beach we all just collapsed into bed for a couple of hours. Once we awoke we felt more like celebrating and had a hearty breakfast of bacon, eggs and coffee. A couple of hours passed by in a daze as we started to get things together on the boat. We all checked in with US Immigration on the telephone. The time spent applying for our “Local Boaters” certification and “Customs decal” served us well, however, Bob still needed to report in to local customs and immigration. Once we had re-inflated the “Dumb Dog” (stored on the foredeck during the passage) we headed in to town and took the 10 minute walk to the local customs office where Bob completed the necessary paperwork. After that it was back to the marina for a fantastic shower and then back to “Cotinga” to meet up with Lee and Lynn for Champagne / Soda in the cockpit. We then took our respective dinghies to shore and went out for dinner at the local brew pub and then on for frozen yoghurt at a nearby store. We were all back on board by 9pm and slept like logs!