Anchored up in the middle of nowhere
A year afloat: to the Caribbean and back
Sam and Alex Fortescue
Sun 8 May 2011 13:04
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25:13.85N
79:08.37W
Plague ship, she might well have been called, for
both of us were ill when we left Varadero. The skipper was recovering from a
mysterious bout of food poisoning, while the First Mate was just succumbing to
something similar. Time and tide had waited for one day, but wouldn't wait a
second, so after completing the lengthy formalities of departure, we shoved off.
In truth, Varadero is not a place to be when the wind is anywhere in the south;
the gaseous outpourings of the oil refinery at nearby Cardenas fill the air with
a sickly stench that seems to adhere to every surface with an oily
sheen.
So we were pleased to leave, after a tremendous
three weeks in Cuba. In defiance of the forecast, there was good wind until 4 in
the morning. At this point, just 30 miles from the American coast, we switched
on the donk and pointed further east, towards the Bahamas. The night was long
and, for me at least, punctuated with the bad dreams you have when you're not
well. It seems extraordinary that we managed eight days and seven nights at sea
to reach Cuba from the BVI.
Nonetheless, I think we're both over the worst. As
I type, the sun has sunk out of view behind half a dozen low rocks that mark the
western edge of the Great Bahamas Bank, and noisy terns squawk back and forth,
hunting for spratlings. To the west lies the deep blue highway oof the Gulf
Stream, pouring north at up to four knots, like a watery conveyor belt. Our
route lies in the other direction - east across the great shallow bank that
curves around the Bahamas. Precisely because the water is so shallow, we've been
able to anchor up for the night, with just the rocks for company and the sea
stretching to the horizon in all directions. As we motored up to our anchorage,
we could see barracuda swimming briskly away from us, as well as fish and
turtles, so clear was the water. Now, in the dark, there is a the regular
splashing of jumping fish.
It's a treat to be able to 'pause' a journey like
this, and we should be able to do the same tomorrow night, regaining some of our
composure. Then there is a 60-mile stretch to Nassau through mile-deep
water.
...we're on our way again after a really good
night's sleep. Despite being anchored just off the Gulf Stream, with open seas
in every direction, there was not much awkward rolling during the night,
although we rigged the sea-brake as a damper just in case. We woke at sunrise,
Alex with an insatiable appetite for the melodies of Phil Collins - something
very new to her. I made the critical mistake of buying the best of Genesis in
Portugal, and have been wondering why ever since. Now I know, it is to serenade
the rising sun by miming the 'gorilla drum solo' from the Cadbury's
advertisement. Alex claims she found Big Phil in a desperate attempt to keep
herself awake during night watches. Will our lives ever be the same
again? Those amongst you, readers, who are unfamiliar with Phil Collins'
work, I am envious: it's just another day in paradise for
you...
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