A monster cold front was predicted to sweep across the Bahamas, clear down to the Caribbean. We couldn't stay in Rum Cay's Flamingo Bay, open to the north, so we thought we'd take advantage of some forecast light winds to head down to some rarely-visited, uninhabited islands, and find some better protection. At 3 p.m. we lifted anchor and threaded the maze of patch reefs out to open water, where we turned east and rolled out the sails for a nice beam reach on the south breeze.
Except, of course, nothing ever goes as planned. The southerlies became southeasterlies, forcing us more and more north, until we were pretty much headed for San Salvador. Now, that's supposed to be an awfully nice island, but it happens to be in the wrong direction. So we tacked back and forth a bit in the lee of Rum Cay until we could eventually clear the island on a southbound tack.
As darkness fell, the wind backed more toward the east, which we had expected from the forecast, and increased in speed, which we had not. The seas got a little bumpier. We were not moving very fast, since we were going upwind and fighting a northwest-setting current of around 1-1.5 knots. Our speed made good -- the actual progress we were making toward our destination -- was even worse, since Windom, for all its good qualities, does not point (go to windward) worth a hoot. We don't know how much of that is due to the inherent nature of the boat, how much due to the roller furling on both sails, and how much due to our relative inexperience as sailors, but we can't go closer than about 60° to the wind without a big loss in speed. This, combined with the foul current, led to an interesting phenomenon: falling off (turning away from the wind) would actually make our course closer to the wind, since we'd speed up and be less set off-course by the current. For example, if we steered 075° we might make 4.5 knots at a real course of 055° , but if we fell off to 070° we might make 5 knots at 065° .
In the morning we were northwest of Samana Cay, and the wind was still 15-20 knots with seas over 5 feet. This did not bode well for our planned entrance; the anchorage at Samana is gained by an extremely narrow pass through a dangerous reef, and all the guidebooks warn not to attempt it with other than good light and calm sea conditions. Since the wind had shifted to almost south, and the entrance was from the south, we'd risk being pushed around by a following sea. Instead we turned east, to take advantage of the southerly wind, and sailed north of the island. Our plan now was to continue on to Mayaguana, which would take a second overnight. Much to our chagrin, the wind and seas moderated a few hours later, but by then it was too late to turn back and still make the entrance with good daylight.
The windspeed continued to drop, finally agreeing with the weatherfax forecast of 5 knots, and we motorsailed for a few hours, charging the batteries, making water, and improving our progress to windward. When the wind began to pick up again, it was more easterly; at that point, our course to Mayaguana was nearly due south, so we happily turned off the engine and rolled the jib back out.
It didn't matter that the wind was still mostly under 10 knots, because at this point we didn't want to go fast. We needed to arrive at Abraham's Bay with mid-day light, so there was no point in getting there before sunrise. We had a nice, slow beam reach, and as the wind built to 15 knots we reefed the sails to maintain a speed over ground of 3 to 5 knots. Each of us got some good sleep that night, as we discovered that it's pretty darn comfortable to sail slowly.
By sunrise we could see Mayaguana, and we spent the next hour and a half slowly gliding along its western shore. When we rounded the southwest corner of the island, Devil's Point, things got blowier and bumpier, but since we had plenty of time we just tacked our way in toward the anchorage. We finally fired up the engine just a half-mile from the entrance waypoint, after a long, slow voyage. We had covered 217 nautical miles at an average speed of 4.8 knots, but since the actual straight-course distance is only around 130 miles, our "average speed made good" was only 2.9 knots! On the other hand, we sailed nearly all the way.
Abraham's Bay is a shallow indent in Mayaguana's south coast; what makes it a good harbor is the reef which outlines the harbor on its east, south, and west sides. We anchored far from land but right up behind the reef. When we approached the anchorage from the outside, it looked very strange to us to see boats anchored "way out to sea", but it turned out to be a good spot. Although there's no wind protection, the reef stops the waves very well at low tide, when it's awash. At high tide things got a little rolly, but never very bad, even when it was blowing hard.
The fringing reef was too shallow for snorkeling, but there were plenty of coral heads within the harbor nearby. After a day of resting up from our passage, we went out to restock the fridge. I speared a red hind (a type of grouper) and a glasseye snapper, and Britt got a Nassau grouper, a schoolmaster (a type of snapper), and a yellow jack. (This sounds like a lot of fish, but the snappers were small, so it added up to only five meals' worth for the two of us.) I was happy to be catching fish, because other than lobster I haven't had a lot of luck lately. I've shot and wounded fish, which would then wriggle free of the spear, which made me feel terrible, as the hunter's ethic is to not waste meat. At least it's not really a waste in the ocean because there are plenty of predators and scavengers ready to take advantage of a pre-wounded meal. But after wounding a number of fish which all managed to get away -- one grouper actually swam off with my spear, which finally fell out thirty feet or so later after being banged against a few reefs -- I got Britt to modify the tip and barb arrangement on one of my spears. It seems to help.
When the big front was about to come through, we moved the boat closer to the shore and closer to town. But although it rained buckets and blew over 35 knots in George Town, by the time the front got to Mayaguana it was largely blown out. We just had a night of drizzle, after which a decorous north wind of 10 knots or so set in, barely enough to ripple the water.
Since we were near town, we went ashore to take a walk and incidentally get rid of our garbage. We'd been carrying our trash for the two weeks since George Town, but since we "precycle" when provisioning and separate out what we can legally (and ethically!) dump overboard, it really didn't amount to much. Neither did the town of Abraham's Bay. We strolled in the light breeze, said hello to the knot of ladies doing straw-work by the pier and the men casually filling in a pothole in the road, and said goodbye to the Bahamas. We'll take this north wind out of here, south and east, to new adventures on different islands.