The BIG Jump: Crossing the Gulf Stream

It's sea turtles - I promise!

As we approached the Channel 5 Bridge, there were two sailboats coming at us from the Atlantic side, a case that was a first for us and Calypso’s Fire: going through an unknown bridge for the first time while negotiating how wide the opening was and the speeds of other boats.  All went well and as planned, though, with us passing under the bridge between the two on-coming ships.  As the nose of the boat entered the sun’s 4:00 shadow cast by the bridge, I noticed a flipper coming up from the surface of the water, as to wave us “goodbye” and “good luck” on our journey.  I was fairly certain it was a sea turtle and as we came right up on it, I learned I was right and wrong: the flipper belonged to a sea turtle, alright, but we weren’t seeing just one turtle, it was two... and the two we were seeing may have been a little wrapped up in their mating to care about our departure from the United States!

The sapphire color is impossible to capture!

What 2000+ feet deep looks like

Motoring through the channel and anxiously waiting for the time when I could finally kill the engine with sails flying over us, the Captain and I surveyed the area and became excited about the sparkling blue water that surrounded us.  While it felt wonderful to see such clear water, we had no idea the blues that awaited for us as we crossed the Gulf Stream… but I’ll come to that in a bit.  First, we had to keep an open for eye out for the Gulf Stream itself, knowing that we weren’t really going to see it like the freeway flow on “Finding Nemo”, but searching for it anyway in my child-like excitement.

What I found, instead, was a dislike and discomfort with the rolling waves: uuuup, dooooown, uuuuuup, dooooooooown, uuuuuuuuuup, doooooooooooown.  Soon, I found myself in an all-too-familiar pose as of late that I like to call the “At Least I Can Make It Off the Side of the Boat” pose, an unfortunate thing that thankfully the cats have learned to no longer need.  The Captain keeps telling me that I’ll get used to the motion of the waves and will no longer get sick…  One part of me wants to trust the man who was in the Navy for four years and went out on long cruises throughout the world.  The other part of me knows that he has only once been sea sick in his life and that was with ~90% of the crew on board because of the harshness of that day’s waves.  In short, I don’t know whether or not I trust his “it’ll get better” speech anymore.

The plan was for us to take three-hour shifts once we were really going: one of us would sleep while the other steered for those three hours.  Because I had known of the plan, I had thought we would stay up late the night before, sleep late, and not need sleep for quite a while once we were sailing.  Instead, the Captain had fallen asleep early, woken up early, and I had a restless night of sleeping and waking, then was up early with the Captain because I couldn’t sleep through his breakfast-making and deck-cleaning.  Needless to say, I was quite tired and the sea sickness was not helping this; down into the aft cabin (our room) I went for my first three-hour nap, one fraught with panicked awakenings at weird noises and a rolling body.

Once I finally got used to the rhythm and found a way for the boat’s rocking to be comforting, I drifted off to sleep for what felt like 20 seconds, though it was about two hours.  The Captain was exhausted at 11:30 and needed me to be ready to take the helm.  Whether I had slept two hours or 20 seconds, I needed to take over and let him get some rest – that’s how it works on a boat.

With cold – but very strong – coffee in hand, I took the wheel, looked out on the peaceful horizon of stars and cruise ships, and figured out which set of stars I needed to keep on my starboard (right-hand side of the boat) in order to stay on course.  I had the next three hours to: sit; to hold and steer the wheel; to stare off into the distance; to listen to the sounds the boat makes as it cuts through the ocean; to delight at the incandescent greenish sparkles of tiny creatures that live in the water and only can be seen when there is movement; to think about the fact that a year ago, this was as close to a pipe dream as I can imagine; to reflect on the people I have met and the lessons I have learned in the sailing world; to give thanks for all I have…  It was actually probably the fastest two hours and 40 minutes I have had in quite a while.  The last 20 minutes of my watch were harsh because my body was ready to go to sleep.

Beautiful rainbow

We can haz fish?

In the morning, the nausea was coming back, but I tried SO hard to watch the beautiful blue of seas that are more than 2,000 feet deep; our depth sounder stopped trying to tell us how deep it was at 745 feet!  Though the stomach was not in the best of moods, I tried my hardest to have fun in it.  Between the beautiful rainbow I was greeted by in the morning and watching the Captain clean a fish he had hooked on his trolling line for the cats, the morning was fun and adventurous! 

And the fact that we were sailing our home to another country just kept astounding me!

The entrance to the Bimini Islands

By the time we were sailing into North Bimini, the Bahamas, we were cracking lunatic jokes and getting anxious about being there.  It was around 1:30 in the afternoon and we had hoped to be pulling in around 6:30 in the morning, so our timing was a bit off.  We had been warned to be careful of how we went in and so we were; that didn’t really matter though, because we still did it wrong, coming into the shallowest water we had yet to be in while surfing in waves toward a rock wall.  By grace and the Captain’s good eye, we were able to get safely into the channel and start our way into the Bahamas.

Bimini Bay Marina

We had been told that there are marinas where you can stay for $1 per foot; however, while coming in, we tried almost every marina and didn’t get answered until we were calling the one furthest from us – the one which is $2 per foot.  That’s the one big thing that’ll get you after the boat is paid off: the bigger it is, the more it hurts when they charge by the foot.  The Captain, too exhausted to worry about whether or not we were moving when we dropped the anchor for the night said that we should just go to the marina and pay for the comfort of a good night’s sleep.  As we had learned through the regatta that sometimes money needs to be spent, we went to the marina for the night.

After parking in the marina (yep, will need to work on those skills!) and having the most well-deserved beer either of us had earned in quite a while, we headed to Customs and Immigration, having been surprised to learn that, yes, they are open on a Sunday afternoon.  We rode our bikes the three miles through half the island of North Bimini, realizing that this government office must be the only thing open on a Sunday at 4:15 in the afternoon.  Though a few people were out, the streets were quiet and we soon learned that a “good afternoon” and a smile was customary when passing someone on the road.

Customs and Immigration was – amazingly! - a breeze.  We were overwhelmingly relieved to find after such a long trip.  Customs saw our personal and boat documentation, the laminated certificates for the cats of their vaccinations and proof of being fixed (which I don’t think he even cared about), and found out what we have on-board (two bikes, one dinghy, and one motor on that dinghy – it’s to make sure people are not importing goods by boat in order to avoid paying import duty).  Finally, they gave us our fishing license, took our money, and reminded us to go to Immigration.  There, the friendly desk clerk looked at our documents, told us we get to stay for 90 days, stamped our passports, and wished us a great day.  He was a super friendly, helpful young man – something most other government agencies are lacking Mondays-Fridays; could you imagine what they would be like if tourists came in 20 minutes before closing on a SUNDAY?!?!

Getting started right - sunset on the beach!

That night, the Captain and I cooked dinner on the boat, drank a few cold beers (though we were both so exhausted that only a few felt like a case!), and relaxed in the sauna pool under the Bahamian stars.  As we stretched in the warm water, patting ourselves on the back for a job well-done, we realized that – once again – paying the money that we have but can’t spend freely was well worth it!  After all, anyone who crosses the Gulf Stream eight months and fourteen days since making the decision to do so deserves a little pampering!