Sampson - Cambridge 4-3 to 4-4, 2009
As we left you, we were fully fueled and watered, and ready to go to
Cambridge Cay.
As the route was a bit tricky, and convoluted due to all the shoals on
the way, we'd wanted to leave earlier than we did, but we sailed off
the dock at about 3:30, in moderate winds of about 10-15 knots. While
the sail over was pretty uneventful, despite the many sail
configuration changes, it got exciting later.
We've had these new sails for quite some time ago, and I'm still
tweaking the adjustments for the genoa. Our prior experiences at being
extremely close-hauled, with our second-hand 110 (110% of a "full"
jib, that being the bottom end of the sail reaching to the mast, and
any larger defining the distance beyond the mast, measured at the foot
of the sail), had been very good - possibly the best point of sail we
had.
However, with the turning block (adjustable along the toe rail) in the
position we'd had it, to allow for the fishing poles at the aft end of
the side gates not to interfere with the sheets on the genoa, our foot
of the genoa never really flattened out when we were close-hauled, and
our telltales, the little strips of cloth which tell you how your sail
is trimmed, never really behaved as I'd have expected.
Accordingly, I moved the turning blocks back several feet, and
relocated the fishing pole holders to the next stanchion aft. That
made a tremendous difference, and while I'll probably fiddle with it
some more before finishing with it, our upwind performance increased
dramatically, allowing us to sail on a balanced basis (the helm needs
little to no fiddling to keep her on course) while extremely close
hauled.
Our travels to Cambridge Cay involved pretty much every point of sail,
and very constant attention to route, as some of the deep-water parts
were very narrow. As we were approaching the top of Bell Island, we
found ourselves slightly aground in the sandy shoal adjacent to the
channel. By that time the wind had dropped considerably, so I'd rolled
up the genoa and we were on main alone. Fortunately, I was able to
point us, by turning on the engine, back to deeper water, directly
abeam of the wind, and by tightening the main extremely, created
enough heel that we sailed off the sand in short order.
However, in the course of doing that, we looked at the choke point we'd
have to go through, close enough to see clearly while we were getting
off the bar. One side was the evidently shifting shoal (as we were
following the chart's directions for where to be and still ran
aground), and the other was a very ugly pointed rock. Others had told
us that this was the route to take, having done it very recently, but
with the recent grounding in my mind, I didn't much like the
possibility of being aground with only a sharp rocky point available
to get off! So, despite it now being well after 4PM, we turned around,
followed our course back out between the shoals, and turned for Conch
Cut.
Conch cut is very do-able, but requires attention as well, as there's
a rock awash right in the middle of it. As the wind was dying, with
sunset not far off, and we already had the engine on, we were
motorsailing for all we were worth. Unfortunately, whether from
not-enough water coming in (we still had the hose issue with the raw
water pump intake), or just not liking all the full-throttle stuff,
about halfway up the outside of Cambridge Cay, we got an overheat
buzzer.
Continuing under main alone, we inched northward, downwind in the
dying breeze. Soon enough, the engine cooled, and we applied somewhat
less throttle in the approaching sunset. The entrance to Cambridge Cay
from the ocean side is no less tricky than the other, it being part of
the same route we'd have taken once over the top of Bell Island, so we
paid close attention to the depth sounder and VPR (visual piloting
rules) as we came in, wandering around the prominent shoals just off
the rocks.
Cambridge Cay has several moorings maintained by the Exuma Cays Land
and Sea Park but they were all full. We anchored to the west of the
field, in about 20 feet of water, just before sunset. Doing our usual
anchoring routine, still easily able to see the anchor set, we put out
200' of chain, and rested comfortably.
The host boat came by in the morning and registered us; anchoring is
free, but the moorings have a scaled cost of between $15 and $100 per
day, with our length requiring a $20 daily payment. As we felt
entirely secure, we passed on taking one of the moorings that vacated
that morning. During our check-in, the host boat gave us a brochure
showing locations of all the dive and snorkel sites, in great
abundance in this area. Many were parks maintained, with dinghy buoys
adjacent for free tie-ups while enjoying the attraction.
As all the dive and snorkel spots were at some distance from the boat,
I made it a point to redo the recoil starter on the old 15HP outboard,
which would get us to and from in much more satisfactory fashion than
the 6HP we normally used on the Porta-Bote. Having done it once before
made the pulling of the flywheel much easier, and the accomplishment
and restoration of the rebuilt recoil starter only took about an hour,
so we hustled down to our swim with the sharks.
About noon, our host boat again showed up aside, and told us of a
meet-and-greet, bring your own drinks and appetizer to share, on an
adjacent tiny island. We enthusiastically agreed and met another dozen
or so people there, enjoying each other's company and watching the sun
go down in all its glory. The last several days have had clouds on the
horizon, so while the sunsets were still spectacular, there was no
chance for the green flash.
In between, before the evening's activities, we went up to the marine
aquarium, a miniature wall dive of a site with quite a few fish. On
the way up, we saw One Eyed Parrots, a boat we'd met in Georgetown,
and they gave us a looky-bucket (a bucket with a plastic bottom so one
could look over the side and see what was going on below) to borrow.
Everyone we talked to who'd been to the natural aquarium raved about
it, so we were looking forward to it with great anticipation. After
having heard that we would be covered up in fish, this was a bit
anticlimactic, having fed the fish in the Thunderball grotto, where we
literally WERE covered up in fish, but the coral and other bottom
stuff was still beautiful to explore. And, there were many lovely
fish - just not so thick that you couldn't see more than a foot in
front of you!
When I free dive, I use some weights to make me just the slightest bit
buoyant, but by the time I'm down 20' or so, the air in my lungs has
compressed enough that I'm negatively buoyant and can easily swim
along the bottom, enjoying the fish nibbling on the coral face to
face. While we were there, we were joined by a couple of other boats,
so I had to do some turning around on my ascents to make sure I wasn't
coming up under either a boat or someone else, but it was a great time
under water. I used to figure I loved diving as much as I do because I'm
a frustrated flier, having been, eventually, despite very heavy
recruitment by the Navy, having been in love with airplanes since I
was a small child, rejected for marginal red-green colorblindness.
Diving is as close to flying as I'm likely to get, other than as a
passenger :{))
Lydia's mom got in the water with a mask for the first time in our
trip on this excursion. She'd looked over the side in the bucket, and,
having had her appetite whetted, she decided to brave it and go over.
She was so enthralled that she wants to come back to it before we
leave. I don't know that we'll get the opportunity to do that, but it
just emphasizes how sorry we were that we didn't manage to coerce her
to go in at Thunderball.
As this is likely to be too long, there having been so much to see and
do at Cambridge and the surrounding area, I'll leave you here.
Until next time.
Stay tuned!
L8R
Skip and crew
Morgan 461 #2
SV Flying Pig KI4MPC
See our galleries at www.justpickone.org/skip/gallery !
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"And then again, when you sit at the helm of your little ship on a
clear
night, and gaze at the countless stars overhead, and realize that you
are
quite alone on a wide, wide sea, it is apt to occur to you that in the
general scheme of things you are merely an insignificant speck on the
surface of the ocean; and are not nearly so important or as
self-sufficient
as you thought you were. Which is an exceedingly wholesome thought,
and one
that may effect a permanent change in your deportment that will be
greatly
appreciated by your friends."- James S. Pitkin
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