It’s time to piss in tin cans.

Its three pm and it is time to leave. We have filled up our water tanks and extra water and fuel containers. We took off the sail covers and excess lines. I don’t particularly want to leave, but it is a good thing that I did. We take a compass heading out of Islamorada of 346. We do a little maneuvering but soon we are on the intercostal (which by the way is exactly the opposite of the normal red/green system). We head down the intercostal at 50 degrees and then turn to 92 degrees toward Snakes Creek.

As you can see on the map, Snake Creek is absolutely neat, with many expensive houses and boats lined up on little waterways. We hail Bascule Bridge to open up Highway 1 so we can pass by. We head to Hens and Chicks at 114 degrees and from there we head to Davis Reef at a course heading of 109. Phew.

We are free of the shallows (at the time I thought this was a good thing – needless to say Kangas had it right – now is the time of the stainless steal piss can). We now have over 78 nautical miles on a heading of 82 degrees towards South Riding Rocks. We draft 4.5 so we decided to skip Bimini and the shallow way into the Northwest Passage. Instead we stayed south and went to South Riding Rocks and then up to the Northwest Passage.

Now we are in deep water – in the gulf stream – with Easterlies pointed at our bow. Sailors, you know. This sucks. With waves knocking you over for an overnight crossing, I curl up into a ball in the floor of the cockpit. Dad has to take the overnight crossing (with no auto helm) with seven foot waves kicking the shit out of my stomach. (By the way, I did not vomit. It is really amazing because I thought I was going to die.) We obviously did this crossing via motor (Erv you would be proud). If you can’t sail, do not do this crossing – it is a bitch. But we do arrive at South Riding Rocks at 9 am. We had timed out this whole situation so that we would arrive at the Berries at a normal hour, but we realize we are ahead of schedule so we decide to anchor and sit at South Riding Rocks (oh did I mention we were running all night without running lights – yes just call us the Good Ship Lollypop that supplies your illegal coke). Anyway, we look for the short that is cutting out our running lights, which, of course, is on the bull pulpit where I sit and hold on to these super tiny screws and nuts. We fix the lights and get antsy so we head out on a heading of 75 degrees toward Russell Light. At dusk I hit the running lights (i.e. the red and green lights that let other boats know where we are and where we are going) and of course the breaker flips – another short. Damn. Do you know what is worse than sitting on the bull pulpit holding tiny nuts and screws… doing it at night, which is what I had to do now. We are now out of the Gulf Stream so we are not getting kicked around, thus we take two hour shifts over the Grand Bahamas Bank. During my 3-5 am shift the GPS dies, of course, fated. This boat hates me. Not to mention we are coming in way too hot to Chub Cay (Cay is pronounced Key), so now I am playing it blind. I slow down the engine and pull way south. I can’t fix the GPS at night, so I give it over to Dad. At 6 am I get woke up – time to go into Frazer’s Hog Cay (Key) old school style. Forget the GPS. It is time for Lat/Long and dead reckoning.

We are aiming for the Berry Islands, where Chub Cay is the port of entry (where you pass customs), but they know that thus they charge a FORTUNE (like $200 plus the $300 customs charges – no thank you). Therefore we are going to Frazer’s Hog Cay (same island – other side). The custom’s official is not happy, because we are not in an official port – but he lets it slide and now we are set in the Bahamas for four months – heck yes! Of course, coming into Frazer’s Hog Cay and basically begging for a ride to the customs officer was not too easy, but they offered and gave us a ride down the one road on the island and gave us a huge tour (THANK GOD WE DID NOT GO TO CHUB CAY). We probably spent $40 on the guy (he was from Andros and his name was Lincoln) and the places he brought us, which was well worth it. Back at the Berry’s Island Club, after many roads of blue holes and mangroves, we drink the local beer – Kalik and order dinner. On the way to the dinghy, Lincoln kills our supper (which is conch – a cross between snail and crab). It is great. Come to Frazer’s Hog if for nothing else – Lincoln’s cooking.

This is Chub Cay - as Hunter S. Thompson would say: Hello Fat City!
This is my sweet ride in the back of a bumpy industrial golf cart down the one road of Frazer's Hog Cay.

The next day we head towards Andros (I am obsessed with this place because it has chickcharnies and blue holes). After a few hours of motor sailing we pull into Morgan’s Bluff, a commercial harbor, where we get diesel and stop at Willy’s Water Lounge (not worth it). We try to go down to Nicholl’s Town, but the Nor’easters are killing us so we have to anchor at Morgan’s Bluff where we clean the barnacles and ropes off of our prop (whoops). I make coconut green curry for supper – yes I am the best first mate ever.

Final picture - the sea shore outside of a restaurant (i.e. many conch dinners)