Monday, March 18, 2024

George Town

We are under way northbound in the Exuma Sound, after a week anchored in Elizabeth Harbour, George Town, Great Exuma, the southernmost point of this year's cruise. George Town is just a hair north of the Tropic of Cancer. We had a nice stay, and I could have used a couple more days, but today is the weather window for the northwest run through the Sound and back to the protected waters of the bank.

After-dinner drinks on our aft deck with Chris and Erin. Erin, who has a better eye than I, suggested this sunset shot of Elizabeth Harbour. With 275 boats, it's a sea of anchor lights at night.

Shortly after my last post we arrived to the bight of Cat Island, where we found Barefeet anchored in an area known as Joe's Sound and a short distance from Rollezz Resort on the beach. That looked good to us, and they were able to relay the report on any coral heads we had to dodge, so we worked our way in and dropped the hook a short distance away (map).

Sunset over Cat Island Bight.

As we were en route, Erin invited us to dinner aboard Barefeet for Saturday night. But with a 5pm arrival on Friday, what would have been reunion cocktails also morphed into a nacho dinner aboard their boat. We always have a good time with them, and it was great to compare notes on our cruises thus far.

Rollezz Resort from the beach. Next time we'll have dinner.

Saturday turned out to be our only day at Cat Island, by dint of the weather, and it was mostly a quiet day aboard, albeit floating in some of the prettiest water thus far. I did take the tender over to the beach at Rollezz just to check it out, and if we had more time here we would have come for dinner. In the evening we tendered back over to Barefeet for a delicious pork tenderloin dinner and more great company.

There's even a road, for the landlubbers.

I suppose you could say it was also an impromptu Captains' Meeting, as we collectively concluded that Sunday was The Day for crossing to the Exumas. It was that, or stay at Cat for another week, without the benefit of the all-around protection afforded by Elizabeth Harbour. We all opted to leave first thing Sunday morning, and thus we were up with the sun and weighing anchor just as soon as we could see the corals.

A somewhat forboding sunset from the deck of Barefeet after dinner.

An hour and a half later we left the protection of Cat Island, and as we entered the deep water of the Sound things got a little bouncy. Fortunately, the closer we got to the Exumas the calmer things were, and we had a decent crossing. Barefeet left us in the dust before we even got off the bank. Our Starlink was offline for most of the crossing, so I caught up on email and other preloaded pages.

A view of Vector we seldom get. Looking east at the last reflections of sunset on the clouds.

Since our last visit to George Town, several key anchorages in the harbor have been given over to new mooring balls at $40 per night, and anchoring in the National Park has been prohibited. I had spent a couple of hours Saturday researching where we could still anchor, not knowing what was really off-limits or not. It turned out not to be a problem; there are fewer than 100 moorings and yet there were over 400 boats in the harbor the previous week for the Cruisers' Regatta.

Sunrise behind us as we depart Cat Island.

We had no trouble finding a spot in our normal location off Sand Dollar Beach (map). Just one of our previous anchor circles is now within one of the mooring fields. There were around 275 boats in the harbor when we arrived (the count is given on the morning radio net) and about the same when we left this morning. We passed Barefeet on our way in, anchored off Monument Beach. We had a quiet dinner aboard after setting the hook.

And bracketing the day, sunset over George Town. That's Amnesia in the foreground.

Monday morning we splashed the tender and I headed ashore in George Town to scope things out. I found the town mostly as we left it some six years ago, although the closer of two banks has closed up shop, and the general store was closed due to a death in the family. I checked out the produce at the grocery store before heading back to the dinghy dock.

They are building a breakwall around the Exuma Yacht Club and Kidd's Cove at the inner harbor. This is some of the material. I had to dodge some of it just below the surface, unmarked and uncharted.

There is a spigot on the dinghy dock for potable water, free for the taking. We've never needed it in the past, but with our watermaker water not tasting great, I filled up the collapsible 5-gallon jug we've been carrying for emergencies and carted it back to Vector, where we used it to fill all our drinking water pitchers. After years being stowed away, folded, the jug has a slight leak at one of the corners, and we ended up stowing it, still half full, in the wet bar sink.

The produce aisle at Exuma Market. If you look closely you will see a lot of empty bins -- not mailboat day.

Monday evening is Rake & Scrape music night at Eddy's Edgewater, and we remembered having a good time there last time around. We also remembered there were only a couple of places to sit, and so this time we figured to have dinner there first and snag one of only three tables in the whole room. We knew service was slow, so we arrived at 5:30 for a 7pm start. Our food order went in at 5:45 and our food came out at 7:15 -- island time, mon. The music scheduled for 7 did not start until 8, in keeping with the theme, so we were all finished eating.

The dinghy dock at one of the less busy times. Water spigot is next to the first dinghy on the right, about to fill his cans.

The rake & scrape band was decent and we enjoyed dancing, but the highlight of the evening was when a troupe of young Junkanoo drummers marched in playing their drums, cowbells, and whistle. I tried to capture a bit of it on video. What you can't tell in the clip is that the large drum is literally a 55-gallon oil drum with a head stretched across it, its weight resting entirely on the drummer's shoulder by means of a thick strap. Bashing a mile back through the harbor in two foot chop in the dark was the downside to our late night out.

Dancing at the rake & scrape. The band is seated in the corner, just below the crowd.

Tuesday I made my way to the new (since our last visit) Peace and Plenty Beach Club for the semi-weekly cruiser Texas Hold-em tournament. The beach club is the Stocking Island companion property to the Peace and Plenty Resort on the George Town side of the harbor; the resort shuttles its guests over to the beach club, open only in the afternoon, by boat. They graciously allow the cruisers use of an empty room for poker, but of course they sell a few drinks that way, too. I remarkably placed fourth and walked away with $20 from my $10 buy-in, which I promptly gave back in Thursday's game.

Junkanoo tum-tum drumline at the rake & scrape. In the back you will see one of the guests dancing in a Junkanoo costume that someone put on them.

While Chris and I were at poker, Erin visited with Louise aboard Vector. When poker was done our dinghy was high and dry on the beach and it took three of us to push it back into the water for the ride home. Still it was a fun afternoon. We had a quiet dinner at home, a theme which would repeat on Wednesday when neither one of us even left the boat. The harbor was choppy and we were not up for bashing anyplace.

Yet another gratuitous harbor sunset.

We made up for that on Thursday by heading ashore in the morning to the local farmers' market, by way of the grocery store. At the market Louise found a nice fresh tomato, and we also bought a small coconut-lemon-orange bread that was more like a light cake. In the afternoon we went to the Peace and Plenty Beach Club, tying up on the back side at the dock to avoid another beach push. Chris and I played poker while Erin and Louise tested out the beach bar. I joined them in due time after being eliminated before the final hands. I gave in to temptation and had a Miami Vice for the first time in many moons.

Drinks at the Peace and Plenty Beach Club. My Miami Vice started melting immediately after this shot. Photo: Erin Miller

The Bahamian Music and Heritage Festival took over part of the government landing for a few days, and Friday I decided to check it out early in the afternoon, when admission was free. It reminded me of the Rake and Scrape festival we attended on Cat Island, with one stage, a handful of craft and food vendors, no place to sit, and not a lick of shade. I judged it not worthwhile to pay to see the evening bands, but I did by myself a new hat.

Stage and two stand-up bars at the music festival. No band playing while I was there, just recorded music.

No visit to George Town is complete, it seems, without a burger and beer at the Chat 'n' Chill at Volleyball Beach on Stocking Island, and we made that dinner on Friday. CnC is packed at lunch time and is the social hub of the harbor, but it's quiet in the evening and we had no wait for our burgers. The place was the same as always, your basic beach tiki bar, albeit with a fresh crop of donated t-shirts and hats hanging from the rafters. It was a wet ride home.

This photo encompasses the entire festival grounds. A few food and craft stands, the two full bars, and the stage.

Friday evening SpaceX finally launched a Falcon-9 with a Starlink payload that had been scrubbed two nights running. We got to watch the second stage whizz by overhead with an impressive display behind it, but too faint to capture with my wimpy camera. We had seen a daytime launch earlier in the week, but that was even harder to see. Sadly, my night closed out with my laptop screen going haywire. It's a hardware issue I have no way to fix in the Bahamas, so for now I am living with the wonky screen and I have prepared a backup computer in case it blanks out altogether.

Just a few feet beyond the festival is the government dock. Here one of the mailboats is offloading; goods are delivered on truck trailers rolled onto the boats in Nassau and off at the out islands. The trailer at left of frame was just pulled off the boat by a spotting tractor.

Saturday some folks whom I had only met on the Internet, having been introduced by a mutual friend over an electrical issue, reached out to ask if we wanted to go to the lazy river. I'd been toying with the idea of going anyway, with a large group that was planning to leave at noon. Knowing it was too much midday sun for Louise, I jumped at the chance to get a ride and not have to go solo in our own dinghy.

The lazy river after the main group arrived. If you float, the current carries you around the corner to the left in almost a full u-turn, and you walk across the point to do it again.

James and Wendye from Chasing Sunsets came by at 11 in their swoopy big tender, complete with Bimini top, to pick me up, and we ran the 6+ miles down to the lazy river area in the company of two other tenders, beating the large convoy by an hour. I really enjoyed meeting them and a handful of other cruisers, and the beach and water were quite nice. By complete accident we no longer have any floaties or even pool noodles aboard, having cleaned them all out when we entered the boat yard ("we'll just get some new ones when we get to Florida") and so I had to content myself with swimming instead of floating.

I know it looks like a pool, but this is all natural. Find it here.

It was a long afternoon, and I had to turn down a cocktail stop on the way back because we were expecting Erin and Chris for dinner aboard Vector. I was home just in time to clean up, change, and do my part of the dinner setup before they arrived at 5pm. We once again had a wonderful evening, and were glad to be able to return the favor of fixing dinner. I hope we will cross paths with Changing Sunsets later on so we can have a proper cocktail meetup, Louise included.

LMK when you get tired of these.

Yesterday morning we headed ashore for final provisions, and lo and behold the grocery finally had some packages of romaine, missing on my two previous visits. Third time is the charm, I guess, and you need to show up not long after the mailboat offloads. Louise also found some cocktail tomatoes that she likes in her salad. We skipped filling the water carrier this time, as the aging plastic is imparting a taste to the water that is even less appealing that our own RO water.

Pool and bar at the main Peace and Plenty resort in George Town. One of our dinner options but we did not make it on this visit.

I spent the afternoon troubleshooting my laptop screen to no real end, and last night we tendered over to the Snappy Turtle at the St. Francis Resort on Stocking Island for a final dinner out before departing. The resort has changed hands since our last visit, and the food is now less casual and more expensive, not a change for the better. We split a single meal, a shrimp and lobster combination plate that was at least decent, if a bit small and overcooked. Still, it was nice to get off the boat one last time, and we walked to the beach on the Sound side after dinner.

The islands themselves cause these cloud formations like the one on the right, which occasionally give us a sprinkle.

We decked the tender as soon as we got home, and I squared the boat away for this morning's departure. We wanted to arrive at the cut at the northern end of the trip within an hour or so of slack tide, and so we lingered in the harbor until around 8:30, most of the way through the morning cruisers' net on the radio, before making our way out in a conga line of a half dozen boats. We angled offshore to the 3nm line to empty our tanks, and so were soon by ourselves.

The view from our deck at the Galliot Cay anchorage, with our very own beach.

Update: We are anchored just SE of Galliot Cay (map), at the first pair of cuts that leads to the inside route up the bank. Barefeet is also here, having arrived a couple of hours ahead of us, and once again we are anchored just a few boat lengths away. We are in gorgeous teal water and have our own private beach just a couple hundred yards off our stern, but I did not feel like swimming through the chop in 80° water to stake a claim. We had excellent conditions for our passage.

Tonight's sunset at Galliot Cay.

We had a quiet dinner on the aft deck, and the winds and seas have since laid down. We expect the wind to clock around to the north overnight, and so tomorrow we will continue up the inside to an anchorage with the appropriate protection. I suspect we will again be with Barefeet, as our very similar trawlers both need the same sorts of depths and protection from wind and swell, and our travel speeds are not all that different.

Friday, March 8, 2024

Going to Cat Island

We are under way in the Exuma Sound, running southeast along the southwestern coast of Eleuthera. As I begin typing, the boutique cruise ship s/v Sea Cloud Spirit, a modern square-rigger anchored just north of Cape Eleuthera, is receding behind us, and the behemoth Enchanted Princess is looming ahead of us. The Nordhavn 63 Amnesia is 500 yards to starboard on a parallel course; we've been playing leapfrog with them since Glass Window.

Passing Sea Cloud Spirit this morning.

We are about to pass the part of the island owned by Princess Cruises and renamed "Princess Cays," and the anchored ship is tendering its guests ashore. South of here we can see an enormous cruise ship pier under construction; Disney has bought part of the island as well and is building it's own private retreat, to complement the one it already operates in the Abacos.

Enchanted Princess anchored off Princess Cays, right.

Disney's enormous pier under construction at the southern tip of the island.

Shortly after my last post we arrived to the shallow harbor of Rock Sound and dropped the hook (map). We opted to be fairly close to the town dock, which put us in the middle of a cluster of sailboats in a depth of just 7.5' at low tide. We missed our friends Erin and Chris on Barefeet by less than a day; they had left in the morning to make the same passage we are on now. Storms moved through the area the whole evening, so we had dinner and a quiet evening on board, and the boat got a nice fresh water rinse.

Sunset over Rock Sound from our table at Wild Orchids.

Tuesday we splashed the tender and I headed ashore to explore a little, and see if I could find a car battery. Most of the settlement is as we remembered it from nearly a decade ago, and I loaded up on fresh produce at The Market, about 3/4 mile north of the dock. I found batteries at both gas stations, and went with the cheapest option from A Family Affair (a word play on island politics) across the street from the market. That had me carrying the battery a good distance back to the dock using a jury-rigged shoulder harness.

I bought this no-name battery for $145. We think 620 cranking amps.

This slightly smaller NAPA-branded battery right next to it was $100 more. The terminals would have made for an easier install.

Getting the new battery in place was the afternoon project, and our 12v system is back to working normally. The replacement battery is smaller than the one that died, but it should be fine for the remainder of our time in the Bahamas. I can upgrade when we get back to the US if it seems like we need the extra oomph. The project, as often happens, was bigger than anticipated because the terminals on the new battery are in recesses that made getting the cables attached a topological exercise.

Vector at anchor, as seen from the public dock.

At dinner time we returned ashore together and walked to Wild Orchids. We ate at this restaurant on our last visit, but it was in a different location a little further north. Dinner was good, but the no-see-ums here are miserable. The restaurant has their own dock, but we landed at the town dock instead because it was an easier dock and we wanted a little walk.

Louise at the Ocean Hole, a 600' deep saltwater pond, connected to the ocean underground.

Wednesday I gave myself the day off after Tuesday's extravaganza. In the morning, before the sun got too high, we tendered ashore and walked up the hill past the Ocean Hole to the other grocery store, Halls, to see if they had our last couple of provisioning items, and maybe check out the sweet goods at the bakery next door. We came away empty-handed, but enjoyed our walk through town.

Vector as seen from our table at Frigates. Named for the birds, not the warships.

In the afternoon we moved the boat a half mile north. While it was nice to be near the dinghy dock, we forgot about the nearby pavilion which sometimes has loud music. We had to close the windows Tuesday night, at least until they knocked off sometime after 10. We dropped the hook in deeper water north of the new government dock (map), which put is in very close dinghy distance to Frigates restaurant.

What's left of the rickety dock. Flux, our dinghy, is at left.

Frigates is in the same space that Wild Orchids had been on our first visit, and we heard reports that their dock was mostly destroyed and unusable. We found that to be untrue; it was more usable than many docks we've seen, and had a working ladder sturdy enough for our purposes. We tendered there for dinner, and, in hindsight, I should have used their dock to go pick up my battery, as it was much closer to the gas station.

The ladder, still serviceable, and an easier climb than many a dock.

Yesterday morning we tendered right back to their dock for a final visit to The Market to pick up more bug spray. Lamenting that we missed out on the bakery, I suggested we also make a stop at the gas station, where I had remembered seeing baked goods. We found several nice items from a local baker one town over, and we chose a miniature coconut pie.

The world's smallest coconut pie.

We decked the tender as soon as we returned to Vector and weighed anchor at mid-tide and falling to move over to Cape Eleuthera to stage for today's passage. With better charts we were able to come up the Poison Channel from the sound rather than the long way around through the Davis Channel, and we dropped the hook north of the cape (map) not far from where we anchored a few years ago. We were not motivated to go ashore here again, and had a quiet dinner (and pie!) aboard. As last time, our anchor got a tenuous hold in light sand over rock, and we put out extra chain for a comfortable night.

This hardscrabble is what we are anchored in. That's 12' down, BTW, after sunset, if that tells you how clear the water is here.

This morning we weighed anchor at sunrise; you don't want to be maneuvering in narrow rocky channels here without enough daylight to see the bottom, and in the really tricky areas you actually want the sun to be well overhead. We followed our old tracks back to the Davis Channel, passing Sea Cloud Spirit, who had dropped anchor while we were eating dinner, on our way out.

Nieuw Amsterdam anchored off Half Moon Bay. The island is giving us some shelter from the Atlantic.

As I wrap up typing and start working on photos we are just abreast of Little San Salvador Island, aka Half Moon Cay, which we visited a few years ago. The Holland America cruise ship Nieuw Amsterdam is anchored offshore, making the bay a bad choice for a stop. We have 4,000' of water under the keel and the plotter is projecting an arrival at the bight of Cat Island before 5pm, so we'll continue on without an intermediate stop further north. We might just catch up to Barefeet this time.

Monday, March 4, 2024

Toyed with by the weather gods.

We are under way across the Bight of Eleuthera, making for Rock Sound. The weather, as has been the case for weeks, is not being cooperative, and if the seas continue to build we may well be turning around to put them behind us, for the third time since arriving to Eleuthera.

Sunset from our blissfully calm anchorage at Royal Island.

We had a nice dinner on board and a very pleasant night at Royal Island harbor after I last posted here, and in the morning we left on a rising tide for the short one-hour trip to Spanish Wells. We have two different charts for the area, which are in disagreement, and so we proceeded slowly, following what was labeled the "deeper draft route" on the more reliable of the two. Deeper draft around here means two meters, or about 6.5'. We dropped the hook just south of the harbor in a small triangle between two published routes (map). We later saw the mail boat, which draws around 7', pass by on the deep draft route, stirring up plenty of sand behind her.

To find our way to the various businesses around town, I take a photo of the very detailed drawing in our Explorer chart book.

We heard there was a very nice grocery here, and, needing to replenish our lettuce supply due to the great chicken debacle, we splashed the tender and headed ashore. After scoping the entire harbor we found a spot on the seawall to tie up, and hoofed it the 3/4 mile to the Food Fair store. That turned out to be the nicest grocery we've seen in the Bahamas outside of Nassau, but all we needed was the lettuce. On the way back we made note of the waterfront restaurant, Wreckers, at the marina as a dinner option.

This may not look impressive to our stateside readers, but it's heaven here in the Bahamas.

Alas, seas in the anchorage built through the rest of the day, and while it was comfortable aboard Vector, we deemed it too choppy to bash our way ashore for dinner. With fresh salad now available we had a nice dinner aboard instead.

Conditions were not much better Wednesday morning and we just had a quiet day on board. I spent most of it trying to make more progress on the cantankerous watermaker, removing the hose from the intake through-hull, cleaning out a decade worth of crud, and blowing compressed air through it to clear any obstructions from the through-hull. None of that helped appreciably.

Dinner sunset from our anchorage off Spanish Wells.

By dinner time the winds were just slightly lower, and we decided to make our way back ashore for dinner. We tied up at Wreckers, which would be your basic waterfront burger bar anywhere in the states, but here is at the upper end of the restaurant spectrum and serves American fare to well-heeled yachtsmen. I had a salad, a rarity in the Bahamas, along with a Sands beer on draft, another rarity.

In the morning we went back ashore in calmer conditions to find a replacement T-bolt hose clamp for our stuffing box, as one of the doubled-up clamps had corroded through. We found one at the second boatyard store we entered, R&B, and were happy to have it at twice the price in the states. We rounded out our visit with a walk to the easternmost end of the island.

This ferry crosses the Current Cut to move people and goods back and forth to Current Island.

We decked the tender as soon as we got home and weighed anchor for the trip to Current Cut, which we timed to reach right after slack water. The current in this aptly-named cut can be upwards of three knots, which can make for either a wild ride or a very long transit, and can also mean steep seas if the wind is in opposition. We were just a little late, finding a knot against us but in the same direction as the wind. Our charts showed a shallow bar but we had plenty of water the whole way.

A somewhat distant view of the Glass Window.

Exiting the cut we set our sights on a familiar anchorage near the Glass Window, in the lee of a small spit of land. We tucked in as far as we could and dropped the hook (map). Better charts this time around meant we could be a little closer to shore. It was a little bouncy in the southeast wind and waves but not too uncomfortable for the night.

Sunset over Current Island from our anchorage near the Glass Window.

It was still bouncy in the morning, and so, after finishing our coffee, we weighed anchor to head for the protection of Hatchet Bay Harbour, the most protected anchorage in all of Eleuthera. It was a short run of just nine nautical miles, but we did not make it. Head seas built throughout the passage, with Vector pitching over them forcefully and rattling everything in the lockers to the point where we had to open each with extreme caution afterward. Between the pitching motion and the prospect of navigating through the very narrow rock cut into the harbor in a heavy beam sea, the crew called for a wave-off, and we made an about face just a couple of miles from the harbor entrance.

New vs. old motor brushes. This looks dramatic but only improved flow a couple of percent.

The ride was a whole lot more comfortable with the seas behind us, suggesting in hindsight that maybe we should have done Eleuthera in the other direction, as we did last time. We made our way back to the slightly more protected anchorage behind Mutton Fish Point (map), less than a mile from where we started. We were not alone, sharing the cove with several other boats, a couple of whom had turned around just as we did.

The actual culprit -- this graphite vane pump had become weak.

We still had some motion here, but less than where we started, and the cove is absolutely beautiful, with that indescribable turquoise water. Long-time readers may remember from our last visit that Lenny Kravitz has his Airstream on the beach in this cove, although it's harder to see now. I puttered around with more projects, and we again had a nice dinner on board. The motion overnight was not uncomfortable.

View from our anchorage this morning. That's the local boatyard. It's protected here, but does not have the beauty of the more remote Bahamian anchorages.

Things are often calmer in the morning, and so after coffee we weighed anchor for another attempt. Having learned our lesson the previous day, we turned around less than a quarter mile off the point, which tends to amplify things, when we found the seas not much better than last time. Several of the other boats had left the anchorage for points west, and we were able to tuck in much closer to shore (map) when we returned. A sailboat that had left right behind us also returned just after us.

Approaching and entering the Hatchet Bay Pond cut.

As it turned out, winds and seas actually calmed throughout the morning, and by 1:15 things had laid down enough for another attempt. We had a bouncy ride, but not nearly as bad as the first attempt, and we soldiered through it. We made the turn for the cut, putting the swell on the beam, I made a Sécurité call, and we powered through without a problem. Nine years ago, when we were still pretty green, this cut looked too scary to attempt, but it was really no big deal. Once inside we did a loop of the harbor before settling on the "no one anchors there" spot and dropping the hook (map).

The Alice Town dinghy dock, adjacent to Boaters' Haven.

After two nights confined to the boat we were ready for a walk, and a little before dinner time we splashed the tender and headed for the Alice Town dinghy dock. We strolled the entire town before landing back at the Boaters' Haven Bar, Grill, and Convenience Store, right at the dock, for dinner. You order your food take-out style at the c-store, and then sit in the bar area to order drinks; they had Sands in bottles. The burgers were quite tasty. Local character and bar proprietor Emmette Farrington entertained us on the guitar; apparently soon after we left a DJ took over and we heard music from the deck well into the night.

Emette entertaining his guests on the deck at Boaters' Haven.

On the way back to Vector we made a detour to the government dock to check out the dinghy ladder, so we could return yesterday for dinner at the Front Porch restaurant, a bit more upscale. We never got the chance; thunderstorms moved through the area all afternoon and into the evening, and in a very brief lull I grilled a steak instead, after spending the day in the engine room working on the watermaker. We were wise to stay on board; after sunset the thunderstorms intensified and we had winds up to 34 knots (gale force). We had excellent holding in out tight spot, swinging into 8' shallows.

The view over Hatchet Bay Pond from the deck. Vector is off to the right all by herself.

Yesterday's watermaker project was to replace the pump head, after having no luck with clearing the intake, changing the motor brushes and springs, and cleaning up all the connections. I'm mostly happy to report that changing the pump head made a huge difference, increasing feed pressure and production rate by 25%. That also brought the salinity down, but not as far as we'd like. Today under way we've been making water since leaving the harbor, but at a TDS of 650ppm. Ideally it should be less than 500.

This cat was very friendly and wanted to share our burgers.

This morning, with what passes for a weather window these days, we decked the tender first thing and made our way out of the harbor, right behind a 40' sailing catamaran. Their length and displacement was apparently just perfect for pitching violently over the waves, and they turned around and headed back to the harbor just a few minutes later. That did not bode well for us, but our waterline length is just enough larger that the wave period was not pitching us nearly as much, and we opted to press on.

This potcake puppy spread out right next to me and was content with some of our fries.

The plotter is saying we'll have the hook down in Rock Sound by 2:30. Weather for moving on to the next islands south will not arrive till Friday, so we will have a few days there. I would have liked to make some more stops along the bight, such as Governor's Harbour or some of the beautiful coves from our last visit, but Neptune and Aeolus have dictated otherwise. At least there are some restaurants, a nice grocery store, and some other services here, and maybe I can get a battery to replace one that's failing rapidly on our 12v system.