Central Exumas: Staniel Cay to Georgetown

23.62°N — 75.92°W. It’s been a while since we’ve posted. So, this is a bit of a long one. Bear with us.

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One of the things we have come appreciate about the tropics is the accuracy of the marine forecasts, especially this time of year. We have advance notice of “northers” and have certainly come to respect these weather systems. A “norther” is a cold front, traveling southeast across the US to the tropics. If it’s cold and windy in Chicago, chances are that in 5 days it will suck in the Bahamas. We’ve been dodging northers since December, through the Eleuthera and Exuma island chains. Most of the time, we have been successful.

In anticipation of a strong norther forecasted to arrive on January 30, we decided to sail for Cave Cay Marina, a “hurricane hole” half-way between Staniel Cay and Georgetown. We allowed ourselves three days to sail about 30nm southeast, along the leeward side of the island chain.

We left Staniel on January 26, on a light northwest breeze and calm waters. Once we successfully navigated the shoals to the west—by eyesight, no longer trusting our nautical charts in shallow waters—we pointed the bow to 131° towards Black Point Settlement. Dropping the anchor in Black Point Harbor at approximately 1500, we straightened our lines, prepped the boat for an evening at anchor, and then dinghied into shore to see the town.

Like so many we’ve encountered, Black Point Settlement is quite poor with few amenities. It was a pleasure to put some money into their economy and residents seemed genuinely happy for the return of tourists. We made our way to the Ocean Breeze restaurant, where we met “MJ,” a hilarious 4-year-old who loved Sprite and insisted on sitting with the “white people.” We finished the evening on anchor, swinging peacefully, while dining on pineapple rice and chicken Quesadillas.

The following day we continued southeast to Little Farmers Cay, about 15nm. Like Black Point, Little Farmers is a small, poor, Bahamian settlement—frankly, they are all starting to blend together. The island offers modest opportunities for provisions, similar to those found in other Bahamian settlements. On our stroll into town we purchased fresh pomegranates and herbs from a local farmer named Denzel, and a bag of lobsters from a surly fisherman. If I’m being honest, I think we’ve all had enough lobster at this point.

We tied up at Little Farmers Yacht Club, which in actuality is a small house with a dock, situated on the northernmost aspect of the island. The club is owned and operated by Roosevelt and Shirley Nixon, an elderly couple who were pleasant enough, but who did not miss an opportunity to extract a few extra dollars from a passing family (e.g., dinner: 2 cheeseburgers, 2 fish sticks $120 + $10 bag of ice). 

The following day we set sail for Cave Cay. It was an easy 5nm sail through the shallows on the leeward side of the island chain. Absent the periods of watching the depth sounder in terror—2’ beneath the keel, then 1.8, .8, then 3, 3.5’ — it was a pretty easy sail. We roped up in the hurricane hole by noon and let the kids play at the beach while we doubled-up our dock lines and fenders. Other vessels joined us throughout the day, all waiting for the forecasted norther to arrive.

As forecasted, a strong low pressure system passed through the mid-Exumas around sundown, blowing hard and kicking up huge waves on the windward side of the island. Even in our protected harbor, our anemometer measured 40 knts out of the north. Inside the harbor, conditions remained calm, but loud as hell, as wind ripped through our rigging, and that of every other sailboat in the harbor. It did not relent for two days.

Cave Cay is pretty spartan, by any objective standard, with no amenities, and no connectivity—only a half-finished compound maintained by a middle-aged Bahamian man named “Shark.” We took the opportunity to get to know other marooned sailors and participated in “cruisers pot luck.” After three days, however, everyone was eager to leave Cave Cay to continue south towards Georgetown. 

At 900 January 30—in a flotilla of 5 other boats—we left the protection of Cave Cay. On a rising tide, we motored out Galliot Cut into the Exuma Sound, in conditions that resembled a washing machine. For the next five hours, we motor-sailed, under a reefed main and headsail, at times struggling to make 4knts against increasing headwind.

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By mid-day, we made our way into the relative protection of Emerald Bay Marina, just north of Georgetown, exhausted and ready for a few nights off the rolling OG. 

After the first night in Emerald Bay, the manager of the marina referred us to Paradise Bay cottages, located about 1/2 mile to the north. Initially, we booked 3 nights, just to get off the boat for a bit. Paradise Bay, however, was totally empty because of Covid. So we wound up staying 7 more nights, with the entire compound to ourselves.

Some nights were spent enjoying the ocean-front simple cottage and everything that solitude can offer. We played games, did school work, built bonfires and played bocce. Other days were spent at Stocking Island, where most of our flotilla remained at anchor. There, the kids fed stingrays, played volleyball and made new friends.

Kids shared their experiences of difficult passages and it reminded me of the older cruising couple we met in Sister Bay, WI a few years earlier, reminding us that: “it’s brave to cruise with kids. But we’re all better for those experiences.”

At the end of this week we’ll be at our half-way mark. We will have been living the “voyaging life” since late December. Homesickness is starting to creep in, but pictures and news from home keep us from booking flights to O’Hare. It’s been very challenging at times—like surfing down large waves, seasick, trying to make landfall at Emerald Bay. Amazing at others, like playing tag with a dolphin, or making new friends. But, this experience has certainly been rewarding since the day we cast off. From here, we start our long sail back north, and back to Chicago.