Helping his sis wash her locks.
The passage across the Gulf Stream is not very long, but the current sets strongly in a north easterly direction, in the opposite direction to the prevailing wind; the sea was short and steep and the rain relentless, resulting in the passage being horribly uncomfortable and wet. The Bahamas are flat, the anchorages sandy and the water clearer than the clearest swimming pool. We ambled around the northern islands enjoying ourselves in pretty remote areas. On one such occasion we woke one morning to find that our solitude had been disturbed – a huge multi-storied cruise ship was anchored a short way off and hundreds of passengers were disembarking onto big rubber ducks which emerged from the bowels of the ship via a ramp at the stern. Whistles and horns blasted in an attempt to keep the mob orderly and within an hour or so ‘our’ gorgeous private island swarmed with noisy sunburnt holiday makers snorkelling, swimming, playing volleyball, tanning. Huge barbecues were lit and lunch was served. We decided to go on over and experience first hand the fray of people and were promptly told to that we were not permitted ashore when the cruise ship occupied the island!
Mostly I will remember the Bahamas for my closest and most frightening encounter with a shark. We set the children up doing school on Finesse and Doug and I headed off on the dinghy to the outer reef to spearfish for meals for the onward sail back to the USA. As dinghy jockey, I was required to keep 360 degree observation, whilst staying as close to Doug as possible so that when he shot a fish he could get it into the boat without too much disturbance and blood. It was challenging as the windage of the boat meant I was always trying to keep up, so when I noticed a rather large, unfriendly looking bull shark in hunting mode about 15m from me, Doug was a fair distance from me in hot pursuit of a grouper that looked tasty. Pure adrenalin enabled me to finally grab his flipper just before he shot the fish and I frantically indicated the problem. With his speargun aimed straight at the beast’s face, now about three metres off, Doug heaved my bum over the pontoon into an undignified heap, whilst watching in amazement as the bull shark accelerated towards the grouper and took the unsuspecting fish out.
A bull shark or Zambezi.
We were to have more awful seas as we headed north and back to the mainland, and after trying to make headway around Cape May for about 10 hours, we finally relented and sought the protection of the intra-coastal waterways. This turned out to be a blessing in disguise. There is so much more to see this way than the grey windswept water of the north Atlantic. There are all sorts of fun and exciting places as one negotiates the waterways and interconnecting rivers and canals, bridges that open for you, birds and crabs and other boats, and when we got to Norfolk, the entire naval base lay before us with strike craft and aircraft carriers, military jets in formation flying, museums and tours. We were grateful for the detour and would do it again anyday. Once across Chesapeak Bay we by passed the Pontomac winding its way up to Washington DC, and made Annapolis our home for a while. Anchored off the magnificent naval academy, we were woken before sunrise every morning with the immaculate drills and motivational singing of the patriotic recruits. The beautiful academy buildings are surrounded by enormous trees, and acres of green lawns and fields – not a shabby place to find ourselves.
It was whilst we were here that we decided that it was time to head back home to SA. It was a testing time as we weighed up all considerations but finally we acknowledged that there had been many signals that the time had come. Dylan was due to start high school in a year’s time and was keen to start playing rugby, have friends his own age and lead a more normal life. A year at primary school would be a good introduction to formal schooling again. Kate had been hankering for years for a pony, having been living this dream in her forepeak bunk with scores of Barbies on horses, my little ponies, lego stables and horsey story books. We had saddled up the boom with stirrups and bridle on numerous occasions so that she could ‘ride’, but this was no longer cutting it! Whilst getting Finesse in ship shape condition to put her on the market, we took time out to make several trips to Washington DC, and marvelled at the Annapolis ‘fall’. There was so much to take care of and so many decisions to make that the next few weeks were a blur of activity; but one thing remains indelibly imbebbed in my memory and that was the final morning leaving Finesse. I felt like a traitor abandoning her in the boat yard, after so many years of providing us with not only a fabulous home, but a safe and sea-worthy vessel. It felt like we were leaving a devoted and well loved pet at the SPCA in the vague hope that someone after us might love and adopt it. Doug scoffed at my sentiments but I was inconsolable! What was to follow was a nightmare trip to New York in a bakers van to catch our flight home, just to ensure my nerves and emotions were totally frayed and shattered!
How damn difficult can it be just to hire a vehicle to get us to New York. You may well ask! The problem was that an ordinary sedan would not fit us and all our luggage into it and would require us to do a double trip, something which would take two days and not be cost effective or logistically viable. We could find no hiring company with a mini van or SUV, with rear seatbelts, at a reasonable rate and all required that these vehicles be returned to Annapolis rather than left in New York or charged an unaffordable levy for this privilege. Finally Doug found a commercial hiring company but the smallest vehicle was a three ton bakers van with two little side seats in the rear, complete with seatbelts – it seemed the only solution at the time. The volume in the back swallowed up our 37kg each for the flight as well as our little children tucked into their seats on the sides, and off we set. Before long, the atmosphere in the van was one of prickly silence as we took wrong turns, got snagged in the Baltimore traffic, cursed and bickered. We found ourselves being sucked along the multilane highways with a road map that was difficult to read and exits that seemed to contradict themselves. The van seemed enormous, the extended side mirrors were at danger of being wiped off by passing traffic, there were no side windows to the van and Doug battled to judge the speeding cars. The kids regressed into wide eyed, stunned silence as we negotiated the route and each other. When several hours later we finally approached the Big Apple and thought there was light at the end of the tunnel, we had another shock. Vehicles of three ton are not allowed on the highway to JFK, (where we had booked a hotel for two nights); one is peeled off at an exit and thereafter our map had no detail to try find our way. We ended up in a dubious part of Brooklyn doing endless 3 point turns in this ridiculous van, there are many arched bridges to pass under for which our van was 10cm too high and the roads here are narrow. That we eventually threw the van back at the hire company with both it and ourselves unscathed was a miracle in itself.
We had planned to keep it for the two days in New York to do some sight seeing but Doug threatened dire consequences if ever again he were required to drive the damn thing! The little sight seeing we did do we caught a taxi! Having left Finesse with reluctance and the inevitable sadness when one leaves their home, I was now ready to fly to our new home and new life!
– Val
Captions to be added at a later stage.
Sailing Katlyn 