The North Exuma Cays

For four nights we waited for good weather at Cape Eleuthera Marina, at the southwest edge of the Island. It was worth it: the kids caught up with their school work; their parents caught up with laundry, a bit of work, and some basic boat maintenance. We also grilled a bag of lobsters that I bought from a local fisherman for $29.

We also rented a car and day-tripped our way to Rock Sound, a nice little town with a good grocery store and a single restaurant called Frigates, which we were happy to patronize. 

Crossing the Exuma Sound

On Monday, January 11, we sailed southwest, across the Exuma Sound, on a beam reach and flat seas. The compass course (our “heading”) to landfall was 151° and stretched about 30nm. Within a few miles, however, while trying to keep our heading, our beam reach became a broad reach, and then a run. Something wasn’t right.

In addition to what we thought was erratic wind—because how could our expensive Raymarine compass be off— our “course over ground” (which is the compass course as established by satellite) read 114° rather than 151°. “That’s not right, maybe there’s a strong current,” I thought. We adjusted our course to approximate course over ground, which put us back on a beam reach for the remainder of the passage. As we got closer to shore, however, our heading didn’t change, as should be expected if the current in the Exuma Sound affected our course over ground. There must be something wrong with our onboard digital compass—that’s not good.

After a long, rolling day crossing the Exuma Sound, we made landfall at Highbourne Cay, in the northern Exuma island chain. More hardcore sailors would have gone straight to anchor on the leeward side of the island. But the kids, and their mom (frankly, all of us), really detest rolling anchorages, especially after a day rolling through open water. So, we opted to stay at the Marina for a few nights. 

The name, “Highbourne Cay” speaks for itself. It is a privately owned island, frequented by the uber-wealthy, either in their 150ft.+ mega-yachts, or in their hillside palaces. Our 34’ OG was something of a curiosity to some. But many would stop over, drinks in hand, and comment “we should have done something like that with our kids when they were younger.” We hiked, played plenty of Rummikub and spent time on the beach. I even entertained an offer of employment, managing a meat-packing operation, once back in Chicago, from a man who looked and sounded like Tony Soprano.

On Tuesday, January 14, we left Highbourne Cay, for Allan Cays, a series of small islands situated only two nm to the north. To avoid some shallow reefs, however, we jogged 3 nm west, before making a right-hand turn and motoring another 3nm into the protected anchorage. During this small passage, however, our heading deviated over 200° from our analogue compass and our course over ground. Something was definitely wrong with our onboard digital compass. 

We stayed anchored in Allan Cays for two nights waiting for conditions for sailing south. The first night was pretty great. We dinghied into shore at Cabbage Cay to meet the famous Bahamian marine iguanas. The iguanas were huge, some almost 4 feet. Hand-feeding them was a big hit with the kids.

We also met a family from Michigan, who sailed from the Great Lakes down the east coast of the US, to the the Bahamas; their final destination being New Zealand. They are in a 40ft. Valiant. 

One of the Michiganders worked as a tech for Raymarine before setting sail for New Zealand. Barefoot in the sand, while watching our kids feed carrots to iguanas, Zane suggested that I check the area surrounding the digital compass for any interference—“anything metal within 3 feet of the compass can throw it off.”

Once back on the boat we ate dinner and settled in for the evening under a canopy of bright stars against the black silhouettes of Cabbage Cay and Southwest Allans Cay. Pretty great. While the kids watched Shrek on my laptop, I emptied the entire storage compartment beneath the starboard settee where the digital onboard compass is mounted. There, I found a full bag of canned beans leaning right against the onboard digital compass. Problem identified and solved.

Then things began to suck.

Our luck began to change at sunup the next day. What was predicted to be a mild low-pressure system working its way into the Central Bahamas, picked up speed and strength. Anticipating a pre-frontal wind shift to the south, we pulled anchor and motored 200 yards or so into the lee of Southwest Allans Cay, which offered better protection. What followed for this day and the next was utter misery as we waited out the gale. All night, the boat rolled from gunwale to gunwale as the kids battled seasickness while attempting to finish this week’s homework. A sleepless night, as I walked the deck every 20-30 minutes to make sure that the anchor remained set. It did. 

With what appeared to be a small break in the otherwise unrelenting wind, we pulled up anchor the following day and sailed south towards Normans Cay. The wind blew 20-23 knts across the deck as we sailed past the leeward side of Highbourne Cay—only 12-15knts were forecasted. With only a triple reefed headsail driving the boat, we sailed about 8nm south to “Normans Cut,” the eastern entrance to Normans Cay. 

We dropped the anchor once in protected waters but the wind did not relent. It blew 20, then 25, with gusts to 30knts, preventing us from leaving the boat for a third day. But, the horseshoe shape of the island provided great protection from ocean swell and tidal current. It blew hard, but the boat was flat. The wind finally relented at about midnight on the 17th, after 3 days battling seasickness, mounting homework, and a pretty severe cold that Joy had developed over the previous 48 hours. Utter misery for all.

At 800 on January 17, with the wind subsided but facing a few more days of cloudy overcast and rain, we decided to give everyone a break and sail further south for Staniel Cay, the next major port in the Exuma chain. Spirits were pretty low, and Joy’s cold had turned into an ear infection. With the decision made, everyone settled into a long 35mn sail south, for a few days off the boat and access to a medical center, if our onboard antibiotics fail to do the trick. Hopefully, a few days (or maybe a week) off will recharge everyone’s batteries. 

We finished the day at the Staniel Cay Yacht Club, for some fried conch and fish tacos. By the time of completing this entry, spirits had already improved.