A learning curve, Friday, 4/6

The internet service is so sketchy, I am simply pasting my 'entry' from my journal to here.  I will attempt to load pics after, but I have a feeling it will not work.  While I am sitting here looking at ribbons of shades of blue in the most magnificent waters I have ever seen, there are certainly trying times to living and cruising in paradise.  Don't be alarmed by this post, all is truly well.  This was just one of the bad days, back on Friday, April 6th.

Friday, April 6^th was a day I’d like to give back.  I hopped on quickly to FB to give an update of our departure, and then we shoved off from Nassau.  We had about a 10 hour window to make the run to Allen’s Cay in the Northern Exumas.  The passage from Nassau to Allen’s Cay was very lumpy, and I was looking at the largest waves to date. Definitely fours and fives.  As I was sitting on the low side, I would be watching walls of water pass the lower lifeline.  My bonine and wristbands were keeping the sickness at bay, but my stomach was locked up all day.  In a word, it was rather miserable. 

Coming into the anchorage was a welcome sight.  There were about 8-10 boats already anchored, but it seemed as if there was room for more.  Anchoring was another disaster.  Eleven times, Donnie dropped and hauled the anchor.  I was struggling emotionally, and it was awful.   Our last attempt at anchoring had been back at Rose island when we tried to leave Nassau a few days before.  That was the day i really lost it.  Today's fiasco at anchoring also shook me to the core, and caused me to question what I’m even doing here.  That’s a horrible feeling.  It’s sunken in to me how ‘cut off’ I am from the outside world.  I don’t like it at all.  I need to hear from the kids.  I need to be able to call and check on mom.  Hell, I’d like to be able to send a postcard, but so far, no such luck.  I drugged myself good with Dramamine, amitryptaline, and Tylenol pm, hoping to sleep away the pit in my stomach. 

Though it was a rough passage today, I tried to enjoy the sunset.

Full moon rising... things always turn to crap during a full moon.
I should have known.

No such luck with sleeping again tonight.  I was awakened with a start at 3:00am with a THUD and then SHUDDER of the rigging- over and over and over again.  We were bumping hard aground, and the depth meter read just 2.7,  which is more like 3.7, but we need over four feet to float.  It was unnerving to say the least.  Donnie put out a ton of scope on the anchor line, as he should have, but I was concerned that we would be swinging on too wide of a circle if the wind shifted. There was a sandbar beside us, a ways out, we noticed before sundown.  My fears were realized, and that’s exactly what happened. The wind clocked around, the boat turned on the anchor, and the slamming commenced.  It was extremely scary, and I lost it, again.  We were at low tide to boot, and I was praying for water under the keel. I was of no help to Donnie whatsoever.  He delivered me to Matt and Karie’s boat, and got Matt out of bed to come and help him.  I felt terrible.  I was embarrassed, ashamed, and my husband’s sympathy for me lasted about 10 minutes, and he hit his limit.  Yelling about selling the boat and putting me on a plane home…which got me even more upset.  Not what I needed to hear at the moment.  It sounds ridiculous to be so scared in three feet of water, but I can’t describe it.  If we were to lose the boat, then what???  By 4:00am, they towed Marquesa to deeper water, and reset the anchor’s with Matt’s dinghy, and we settled in for sleep. 

For maybe an hour.

Matt’s anchor then drug, and they were drifting.  Donnie got up, and it took another hour to get their hook reset.  There was no sleeping to be had anyhow, the anchorage was so rolly polly, that I was laying on a bunk with my leg on the table to keep me from rolling out of bed and hitting the floor.  Donnie came back in by 6am, freezing after a cockpit shower, as he had fallen out of Matt’s dinghy into the water.  We slept good Saturday morning from 6:30-9:30am.  I got up and made Cap’n an omlette, my attempt at a peace offering, but my mood was still dark.  It had been a miserable night, I still felt miserably sick, and I could not appreciate the beauty around me.  Taking a dinghy ride to see the crazy begging iguanas didn’t cheer me either. 

As soon as the dinghy landed on the beach, they came begging.

We took a hike up a path on the island, that led us to
this ruins.  Matt and Donie left their mark as many
others before us had done.  Unfortunately, Donnie
left his mark all over his back- he leaned on wet paint.

Hello, Ms. Karie!

Cap'n was enjoying himself, but you can tell I wasn't feeling it.

After we went exploring, they wanted to snorkel, and I just asked to be taken back to the boat.  I needed time alone to get my head on straight.  They returned from their swim and decided to weigh anchor.  The anchorage at Allen's Cay was uncomfortable anyhow, so we decided to make the eight mile run to Norman’s Cay, and perhaps a better anchorage.  The wind was cranking like crazy, but at least it was mostly behind us.  We sailed with just the mainsail, and I only had about a dozen puke burps that trip, which was an improvement. 

The anchorage we are in now is plenty deep enough, but we are anchored in a river, the current is ripping through here at least 2.5 knots, if not more.  A huge boat nearly came down on us when they were anchoring, until they pulled and reset.  Our anchor held the first take, and my confidence improved to be back at the helm again.  Donnie took the dink out to set a second anchor, and we settled in for the evening.  I fixed chicken stir fry for all of us, and baked a batch of brownies, which did me a world of good to keep my mind occupied doing something productive.  We enjoyed the conversation and company, but then bid our good nights.  The wind has continued to build, and Windy is making power like crazy…at times 8-10 amps.  I’ve never seen it that high.  We are now just waiting on the tide to change as we will swing 180 degrees on the anchor.  I can only pray the anchors will hold when we swing, else it is going to be another scary, stressful, sleepless night.  I can’t say I’m really having fun yet. I just want a nice quite anchorage, out of the wind, in calm, 10 ft of water.  Is that too much to ask?!  Maybe tomorrow.  For tonight, I just sit with my jaw and stomach clenched, filled with dread.  Nights are the worst. G’nite y’all.