26:24.757N

078:39.91W

We've gone from boom to bust in less than 24 hours.

 

Just before we left yesterday afternoon, we assembled in the Poop Deck for a farewell-to-Nassau drink. There, Alex and I found Graham (who was waiting for us) ensconced in a conversation with a group of locals who'd ducked in for what looked like a fairly regularly lunchtime snifter. Among the three men he was chatting to were a noted oncologist, whose father had tailored for King Edward VII, the architect of the Atlantis casino opposite and a financial services expert. They engaged in a delightful but often random series of reminiscences and discussion on everything from the NHS postcode lottery to getting drunk with Edward VII in exile. However, all seemed concerned about our plan to put to sea and sail to the Chesapeake.

 

Dismissing their fears as those of landlubbers, we pulled up the hook at about 4pm and motored west out of Nassau Harbour into a stiff 20 knotter (the forecast was for 12 knots). And found ourselves directly under a torrential squall. Then another. And another - so strong that the waves apperead to boil and shimmer like velvet. We were all feeling green about the gills as Summer Song lurched and rolled off the crests of a surprisingly large swell. She buzzed along at 7 knots, but as the sun set, there was no let up in the seas. It was only when we reached the relative shelter of the Abaco islands that the motion of the boat calmed down a bit and we managed to snatch a little sleep.

 

Because of the violent motion, we've changed our sleeping arrangements. I'm sleeping across the forward berth, with my feet braced against one hull and my head against the other. Alex, meanwhile, has moved into the starboard side single berth in the saloon. The only thing that keeps her off the floor is the generous 'lee cloth' which we've hitched up along the open side of the bed, making a deep nest. Graham is back in his time honoured position in the main saloon berth, where he seems to sleep like a baby, in spite of regular soakings when people use the taps.

 

The night grew progressively quieter and we shook out the reefs to keep speed up. We grazed the Berry islands, leaving them very close to port, and kept an eye on the cruise liners and cargo ships that criss cross these waters. Forty miles behind us, Nassau's lights showed up as a great white halo above the horizon. Stars twinkled fitfully from behind a ragged blanket of cloud. The morning dawned bright and still and we now find ourselves sliding along with the long-neglected spinnaker billowing out before us. In just 10 knots of wind, we're struggling to stay above 4 knotsof speed. The trade off is deep cobalt blue waters all around and a view of Grand Bahama as we wheel around it into the north flowing Gulf Stream. There's hope of greater pace once we turn north for Cape Hatteras, 600 miles away.