Currently at: Samana Cay, Bahamas
Current date: 4 March 2005

The title of one of our Bahamas guidebooks, by Steve Pavlidis, is On and Off the Beaten Path. (A book we recommend very highly!) The first section covers the island chains that are frequently visited by cruisers; the second describes places where few yachts venture. The Jumentos Islands, where we spent two wonderful weeks in 2000, whetted our appetite for more destinations "off the beaten path."

Here at Samana Cay, not only are we off the beaten path, we are just about at the far end of the lightly-treaded path, nearly into wilderness. This nine-mile long uninhabited island lies far from the usual cruising routes, about 20 miles northeast of Acklins Island, another rarely-visited destination. The only anchorage is gained by a narrow and intricate unmarked passage through the hazardous reef that encircles the island. Our other Bahamas guidebook, the Yachtsman's Guide, says:  "We advise against including Samana as a port-of-call." Which, of course, only convinced us that we really wanted to visit!

We'd been talking with Ithaka about making an overnight jump from the Exumas to Acklins. The wind, which had been out of the south, was expected to swing around to the northwest and then slowly to the north as a cold front passed, but with relatively light winds; our course would be east to clear the northern tip of Long Island, and then southeast, a nice broad reach all the way if the forecast held. As we looked at the chart, our eyes couldn't help straying to Samana. The expected light north wind would give us a perfect flat sea for entering the anchorage on its south side; both we and Douglas and Bernadette came to this realization at the same time, and with only the barest bit of discussion we changed our plans, re-calculated our routes, and set off for Samana.

It was a pleasant sail, a bit rolly but never rough, and although the wind varied from 22 knots (in a squall that saw one 30-knot gust, but which thankfully passed quickly) down to under 8 knots, we sailed every bit of it until we drew close to Samana, 144 miles and 26 hours later. The water in the lee of the island was indeed flat and calm, and with the sun high overhead the reefs were plainly visible. When we reached the waypoint given by Pavlidis, we took down the sails, switched on the motor, and did a slow pass parallel to the reef, looking for the way in.

There it was, right where the guidebook had indicated - a path of light blue-green sand between the yellow coral banks. Britt stood on the boom for a better view of the water, giving me hand signals; I drove Windom slowly through the channel, which was perhaps 50 feet wide and 1000 feet long. Calling it a "channel" is probably overstating the case; it's a winding, irregular affair, meandering from side to side, and navigating it reminded me of nothing so much as shooting a rapid on a western whitewater river, dodging around obstacles left, right, and center. But although it certainly required our full attention, it was not, to my mind, significantly harder than driving among the tightly-packed piers of a marina, or negotiating the bends of the dredged canal where we stayed at Key Largo - and if we made an error here, at least we'd only damage our boat!

That said, I should point out that both Britt and I are skilled at reading the water (he more so than me, as he gets the bird's-eye-view while I man the wheel), and we had overhead sun, no seas, light wind in our face, and a very small current with us - nearly perfect conditions. (Hopefully we'll have equally perfect conditions on the way out - or we may not be able to leave!) Pavlidis's sketch chart and waypoints are right on, and they are invaluable for anyone attempting this entry.

As we anchored we watched Ithaka negotiate the passage, and soon they were anchored by us. It's an odd sort of harbor; we're protected on the north by the main island of Samana, and on the south by the offlying Propeller Cay, but to the east and west only the reefs break the seas. Swell curves around and comes in over the reefs, making it a bit rolly even in the calmest weather, and today a low pressure system nearby brought 20-knot winds, making our anchorage as bouncy as the passage had been! But we're reasonably well protected from anything big, and there's not another human being within 20 miles or more. A beautiful, remote island; good friends to share it with; a long beach for walking; a reef teeming with delicious fish and lobster, and grassy flats covered in conch - I suppose a flat calm harbor would be too much to ask for!