It's over.

We are under way across the Strait of Florida, with the Bahamas receding behind us. I expect to be offline most of the day, posting this as we reacquire our Starlink signal somewhere offshore of Jensen Beach. We will come back into the US at the Fort Pierce inlet, drop the hook, and clear Customs online, bringing to a close our 2024 Bahamas cruise.

Our welcoming committee, a dozen miles offshore of Fort Pierce.

We have mixed feelings about this cruise. We enjoy the Bahamas and it is always a little sad to be leaving, but we are very much looking forward to being back in the states. This has been a very challenging season, with the worst weather we've had in a Bahamas season, and lots of things breaking. As a litmus test, my mask and snorkel have not come out of storage throughout the whole trip, and my swimsuit made it into the water exactly once.

The tanker Leo Sun passes astern of us this morning. He had to alter course to miss us.

When last I posted here, over two weeks ago, we were still at Treasure Cay. I'm glad we stayed, because that turned out to be one of the nicest stops of the season. We spent a little more time strolling the beach and the island, and we made it back to the Bahama Beach Club for dinner on Italian night. That proved to be a prix fixe affair that involved way too much food, so we had leftovers, but the entrees were decent if not stellar, and they had a surprisingly good tiramisu for dessert.

On our walk we encountered this sculpture in a roundabout. It's the logo of the Treasure Cay resort, and it looks a lot like the Santa Maria from the coat of arms of the Bahamas. It just needs the base to be barry wavy of four Azure and Argent. 

Wednesday at high tide the motor tanker Ocean Trader arrived and tied up at the fuel dock to offload.  The crew tendered over to Cafe Florence and we passed them there on our walk. They spent the night, which meant we had to pass them close aboard on our way out Thursday, once we had enough tide. Good thing, because we had been anchored pretty much where they needed to turn around when they left at sunset.

Ocean Trader taking most of the deep water on our departure.

Thursday morning we stopped in the mini-mart and then had a short two-hour cruise over to Great Guana Cay. We pulled into Fishers Bay and tucked in as close as we could get to shore for protection from southeasterlies (map), which put us closer than many of the other boats. That made it a fairly short tender ride to the dock at Grabber's Beach Bar and Grill, which was a good thing, as the dinghy overheating problem was still plaguing us.

Sunset over Vector and the anchorage at Fishers Bay.

We splashed the temperamental tender and made the short ride over to Grabber's for dinner. I'm sorry I did not wear my suit, as their pool looked inviting. Not so the tables, which were picnic tables set so high that your feet hardly touched the sand. We opted to eat at the bar instead, where the stools were more comfortable but it was a lot louder. The food was decent and the beer was cold, and they gave us tiny samples of the house frozen concoction, which will knock you on your butt. I would definitely return. We strolled the small settlement after dinner.

The chicken is very fresh at Grabber's.

Friday we returned ashore for an early dinner at Nippers, the other tiki bar atop a hill on the ocean side. They, too, have a pool, interestingly set across two levels. The burgers were excellent, but honestly we did not jell with the vibe of the place, even though it is incredibly popular during the daytime and especially so for the Sunday pig roast. The joint closes at 7, and seems not as popular for dinner. We liked Grabber's better.

Early dinner at the bar at Nippers. That's the Atlantic in the background.

Our choice to anchor as close in as possible for protection turned out to be something of a liability later in the evening, even though it was mostly comfortable throughout the day, apart from a few high-speed wakes. Friday night is evidently Karaoke night at Grabber's. Or, at least, we hope it was Karaoke, because if those were professional singers, they are in the wrong business. It was loud and it went into the wee hours; it was still wafting across the anchorage when I turned in. We'll try to avoid Friday night if we come back; it was much quieter Thursday.

Th upper level of Nippers pool.

Saturday morning our window arrived to cross The Whale, and we got an early start before the anchorage got bumpy from a wind shift. The Whale cut was a complete non-event, and we arrived to Green Turtle Cay at dead low tide. We dropped a lunch hook outside Settlement Creek, off New Plymouth (map) to wait on tide to enter the harbor. Once the tide came up above half we weighed anchor and followed our old track into White Sound with 6" under keel, dropping the hook in the tight harbor just a hundred yards or so from where we anchored nine years ago (map).

We kept finding water in the engine room bilge. The pressure switch on the fresh water pump was the culprit; here I have fitted the spare. It's just a well pump switch from the big-box store.

Barefeet was already in the harbor, docked over at the Bluff House Marina, and they invited us over for dinner. We did not set out to "buddy boat" with them this season, but our itineraries overlapped and we had a great time connecting in several different places. We dropped the tender and headed over for some delicious meatloaf, and cocktails and conversation well into the evening. They also supplied us with some more of their r/o water, as our tank was now up over 400ppm. We had a quiet and comfortable night aboard.

The beach at Grabber's.

Sunday I took the tender around the harbor, sounding it out and seeing if we could get into the adjacent bay for when the winds were forecast to pick up on Monday. I only found 5' at the entrance, but I learned later I had not quite found dead center of the channel they had dredged after Dorian for relief vessels. In any event, we decided we'd need to leave the harbor Monday, with not enough holding for the forecast winds.

Vector in White Sound. This photo belies how steep this hill is.

In the evening we returned to Barefeet and the four of us walked over the hill to the Tranquil Turtle for dinner. We could see in the distance on Great Abaco the smoke from an enormous wildland fire; shifting wind would later send that smoke right to us in the anchorage, making for an unpleasant night. Chris allowed that the burger was the best he had yet had in the Bahamas.

Dinner with Erin and Chris at the Tranquil Turtle, our last evening together.

The smoke turned out to be an indicator that the wind forecasted for Monday afternoon had instead arrived Sunday night, and around 2:30am the anchor alarm went off. We had once again yanked out a ball of grass roots and were slowly moving. Worse, we had no escape, as we need tidal help and good light to leave the harbor. We weighed and re-set the anchor in the blind, paid out more chain, and hoped for the best. It held till morning, again letting go just as we were making ready to weigh anyhow.

Vector seen through the end of the courtesy dock at Grabber's.

The wind was not conducive to staying anywhere on the outside of Green Turtle, and so instead we motored about an hour northwest and dropped the hook bewteen Nunjack Cay, also known as Manjack Cay, and Rat Cay (map), tucked up as close to Nunjack as we could get for some lee. By mid-afternoon there were over a dozen boats doing the same thing, and we're glad we arrived early. It was bouncy when we arrived, flat calm at dinner time, a little "jiggly" later in the evening, and very comfortable overnight.

An entire 4-pack of 50μ watermaker filters failed in exactly this way.

This turned out to be one of the prettiest anchorages we've seen in the Abacos. It used to be possible to land on the beach and walk a ways on some trails, but no longer. Instead we took the tender into the shallow "harbor" between the islands Tuesday morning, where we found loads of rays and turtles. We saw Barefeet passing in the distance, on their way from Green Turtle to Allans-Pensacola Cay. We enjoyed our stay at Nunjack/Manjack Cay (I could find no explanation for why there are two names).

The town dock at New Plymouth, complete with free trash dumpster.

After lunch we weighed anchor and motored back to Green Turtle, where winds were such that we could again tuck up near Settlement Creek (map) to get ashore. I walked the town of New Plymouth, refreshing my memory from a decade ago and checking out the several restaurants and other shops. I walked the entire waterfront and stopped at the Loyalist monument. The town has mostly come back since the storm.

Arriving ashore.

In the evening we came back ashore for dinner at Pineapples, which has its own dock, but we opted for the longer walk from the town landing. We offloaded our accumulated trash there, where the town provides a free dumpster for cruisers, a rare luxury in the islands. We returned ashore in the morning for some fresh veggies from the local grocer, and also ended up with a pair of delicious brownies from the "bakery" on a woman's porch. That provided dessert for two nights.

Pineapples. Very popular with locals and visitors alike. Burgers were good.

When we got back from our morning walk and grocery stop we decked the tender and got under way for Allans-Pensacola Cay, on recommendation of Erin. They were kind enough to provide us their soundings, and we were able to get quite a ways into the lovely natural harbor to drop the hook in beautiful clear sand (map). There is just enough protection here from the trades for a comfortable stay.

Loyalist monument.

This is another beautiful spot, and we finally caught a break on weather and it was pleasant to be out on deck. (Still just a bit too cold for swimming, sadly.) With perfect conditions, I ... I ... I got into my work clothes and went up on the boat deck to work on the tender. It's too vital to risk it quitting far from help, and I could not squander good working conditions on trivial pursuits such as enjoying the raw beauty of the islands.

En route to Allans we were passed by a phalanx of Palm Beach Motor Yachts on full plane. Some kind of brand rally; they all ended up in Marsh Harbour.

I was able to jury-rig the incorrect but new and supple impeller into the pump housing, and take it for a spin in the calm protected harbor, where paddling back to Vector would have at least been possible, if not pleasant. Sadly, that did not fix the issue. The telltale showed excellent water flow but the engine was still overheating. At least now I knew it was not the impeller, and I was glad I had not dropped a ton of money on flying one out from the states.

These plastic trays are cairns for a trail on Allans. Lots of other flotsam as well, such as pot floats. The sheer number of these bins tells me a container of them fell off a ship someplace. The Atlantic side of every island is littered with plastic that landed in the ocean.

I next pulled the thermostat, which was, unsurprisingly, badly encrusted with salt and scale. I cleaned it up and tested it, and it seemed to be opening at about the right temperature, but slowly. And I ran the engine with the housing open long enough to confirm water flow. The problem was still with me after the next test run, so next I removed the thermostat altogether, and that made the issue go away. I've ordered a new thermostat to the next stop, and I hope that will be the end of it. In the meantime, we have a working dinghy that just takes longer to warm up.

Thermostat looking a little crusty.

With the dinghy working I headed ashore with what was left of my afternoon, to walk the trail from the beach over to the ocean side, in search of "The Naming Tree," a tree where numerous cruisers have left mementos of their visit involving their boat names, usually on a piece of driftwood or flotsam from the beach. I ended up taking the wrong trail, well-marked with more flotsam, and ended up at a rope swing instead of the tree. I did not have it in me to try again with the right trail, so that's an exercise for a possible return visit.

The start of the very serpentine trail I took, marked with the aforementioned cairns.

We could have stayed here several days, and in hindsight perhaps we should have, but we had only a single weather window to get ashore and walk around at Fox Town, across the bay on Little Abaco. So Thursday afternoon we weighed anchor for the short cruise across the Sea of Abaco, worked our way in behind Hawksbill Cay, and dropped the hook as close to town as we could get, just a short distance from where we stopped nine years ago (map). We had a quiet dinner on board.

The swing. Yes, I availed myself; it was very relaxing.

Friday morning we tendered ashore at the public landing to get in a nice walk on dry land. Little did we know it would be the last place we'd set foot in the Bahamas for this trip. By the time we get ashore tomorrow night it will have been over a week since we stepped onto land. We had a nice walk through the small settlement, which we missed the last time through. There is one restaurant, a small but well-stocked store where we bought milk, and a gas station. We were the only foreigners in town; there was a single other cruising boat anchored a short distance from Vector.

Small store at Fox Town. A little of everything.

We weighed anchor before the easterlies picked up, and headed for the shelter of Northwest Harbor, in the lee of Great Sale Cay, a five hour cruise. We tucked in closer to shore than we dared on our first visit here and dropped the hook (map). On that occasion we were also seeking shelter from strong easterlies, which pinned us down here for three days. This time it would be a week.

Either a sunset or a hotel logo.

It was a great place to ride out the 30-knot winds we saw over the next day, and we had plenty of company. Monday, after the first windstorm has blown through, we weighed anchor and headed for Little Grand Cay, our very first Bahamian port of call lo those many years ago, where we knew there was a settlement with a nice restaurant and place to get ashore. Winds were supposed to be light for just a single night.

We get a lot of nice sunsets out here.

Alas, it was not to be. After about an hour under way, winds were back up to near 20 knots, on a forecast of less than ten. It became a rough ride, but, more importantly, there is no comfortable anchorage at Grand for those kind of winds. We debated on taking the chance that conditions would improve on arrival, but if they did not, which was likely, we'd have made a six-hour round trip from Great Sale. We turned around and make it a two-hour round trip instead.

Pot float tree at Great Guana.

Pulling back into the anchorage, tail between our legs, we pulled up even closer to shore and dropped the hook (map). And there we would remain until winds finally let up yesterday. We had plenty of company every night, with a dozen or so boats each night and 22 for the worst of it. Boats came and went, mostly inbound toward Green Turtle with a few headed for West End.

Maybe hard to tell in this photo, but Vector is closer to the windward shore than everyone else by at least a hundred feet. We probably have the deepest draft in the anchorage.

Yearning to get off the boat, we splashed the tender and explorer the entire enormous harbor. There are no beaches, only very sharp rock. The remains of an old landing for a long-gone space tracking station looked promising, but we could not get close without running our aluminum tender onto a rock bottom. I did not want to risk it, though we noticed a couple of smaller dinghys made the landing during our stay.

Sunset over Great Sale.

Yesterday we finally got our chance to get out of Dodge, weighing anchor first thing to have a fair tide to Mangrove Cay. This is a tiny island, barely 2,000' long, which can provide a very limited break from easterly fetch in mostly settled conditions. We pulled in as close to the island as depth would allow and set the hook (map). We were alone when we arrived, with our choice of spots, but by the end of the day we had eight other boats with us. There is a weird eddy here and we made a strange ground track on anchor.

Best my cell phone could do with moonrise over the opposite shore.

This morning we had the anchor up before dawn. The plotter is projecting an 8:30 arrival for a little over 14 hours on passage. As I wrap up typing we've just finished dinner, and I am driving directly into the sun. We'll have to claw our way in the inlet against over two knots of current, but that's just how it goes sometimes.

Legend has it that this is the end of a marriage. For us I guess it's just the end of a Bahamas cruise.

After we catch our breath, we will begin a somewhat leisurely trip north. We've booked a dock at the yacht club in Indian Harbour Beach so we can go to a real honest American grocery store and fill our tank with nice fresh city water for the first time since leaving Fort Lauderdale in February. It's good to be home.

Sunset from our deck at Allans-Pensacola.

For the schadenfreude crowd, here is a partial list of things that broke since we left the US:

• Watermaker membrane (increased salinity)
• Watermaker feed pump
• Watermaker J-tube
• Watermaker pre-filters
• My laptop screen
• Main plotter display
• Dinghy cooling system
• Fresh water pump pressure switch
• Wireless phone charging pad

Comfort Inn, I think.

Bahamas cruise by the numbers:

• Miles: 935
• Tach hours: 157
• Generator hours: 132
• Anchorages: 39
• Docks: 1

We arrived to Fort Pierce Inlet just as the sun set. A CG cutter is ahead of us.

Update: Even after a ten hour crossing, I still did not have the blog post done before I had to pay full attention to the inlet, which was a mess with nearly three knots of outgoing current against an incoming surf. We're now safely anchored in a familiar spot in Fort Pierce (map), cleared in with CBP, and have had a relaxing beer.