#6 Family reunited

Don’t worry, be happy

We had a few days in the Bahamas to catch our breath, wait for the weather to improve and work out how to enter the US and it was a pretty cruisy time summed up by this exchange between ever friendly Tom and a dreadlocked local.

Tom: “Hey man, what are you doing this afternoon?”

Dreadlock “I’m gonna get high man, aint notin’ else to do on dis island man”

For some reason this came across as a really positive statement and everyone did seem very very happy. One thing that perplexed us was that often when we asked a question to a Bahamian like “does this airport have a cafe?”, we would be met with giggling and sometimes full guffaws of laughter. It happened more with females and Tom seemed to illicit this response a bit more than me. We couldn’t work out whether it was the question we were asking or the way we were asking it. I suspect it was the accent which explains why Tom in full Hugh Grant bumbling Englishman (he would hate me calling him that, Welsh certainly, Scottish maybe, even Kiwi but not English) got the bigger response.

There were six cruising boats in our little group, a mix of sailing catamarans, monohulls and a motor trawler from the US and Canada (we were the only non North Americans), of all ages and backgrounds and it included a young family. Everyone was incredibly friendly and helpful and keen to hear about our passage from Colombia and gave us some great tips on where to go in the Bahamas. The motor trawler was aghast to find out we had spent exactly $58 in diesel traveling 1,200 miles and he estimated he would have spent $1,000 for the same trip.

We had a lot of admin and boat jobs to do but we did make time for an evening at “Coconut Brians” a local character specialising in insanely strong rum and coconut based cocktails. I don’t even remember getting back to the boat after that one. He was just one of the local characters that everyone knew, it being such a small island. The other was “Lobster Man”. It wasn’t clear whether he was always stoned or repeated deep water diving had permanently affected him but what was clear was that he had the best lobsters on the island and one of the best straplines “I aint the batman, i aint the spiderman, I am the LOBSTER MAN!”.

Ridiculous logistics & 3 Gulf Stream crossings

OK, so here is the deal and bear with me. Citizens of many countries including most of Europe and Australia can enter the USA without a visa under the Visa Waiver Programme also known as ESTA. But here is the rub, that only applies if you enter by air or by cruise liner. If you wish to enter by private vessel you need a visa. Being the planner that I am, I applied for a US visa 4 months before we were due to arrive, paid my $800 (!!!!) and then was told I must have an interview in person at one of the three Australian Consulates those being in Melbourne, Sydney and Perth. The first interview slot available in Melbourne was in December, two months after I would have left, Sydney was even worse (February 2022) but Perth had a slot just 3 days from the time I applied. The only problem was Perth had shut its borders to the entire world and especially Melbourne for what seemed like forever.

What to do? Well, if this adventure has taught me anything its that there is always a solution if you look hard enough. And voila, there was! Sail to the Bahamas, take a very short flight across the Gulf Stream to arrive officially by air allowing you 90 days unlimited entries and exits by whatever means and then fly back to the boat, sail the boat in and there you have it! A completely legitimate way to enter the USA by private vessel without a visa.

The only problem was that we were in Bimini, a tiny pimple of an island with a population of 17 people and 12 dogs. But again, we were not to be foxed. We ended up devising a plan that involved catching the twice a week turbo prop from Bimini to Fort Lauderdale, spending the night there and then joining a private fishing charter seaplane that had a couple of free seats for the trip back. I won’t even bore you with the COVID logistics but suffice to say our nostrils certainly look a little more flared than before we started this adventure.

The return journey was by far the best. The plane was tiny, smaller than a minibus and sitting in row 1, it felt like I could give the pilot a hand if he needed it. We took off behind a massive jet on the main runway at the international airport and landed 25 minutes later on the water in Bimini after a low level pass to scare off the pelicans from sitting on the “runway”. The flight was so short that the pilot took on board a couple of hot subway foot long sandwiches which he handed over to the immigration lady at the other end still warm, obviously his way of sweetening his passage through. I can’t imagine there is a shorter international flight anywhere on the planet. What was great was that the cloud cover was very low so we had to fly even lower which gave us a chance to recce the Gulf Stream before we planned to cross it the next day. A stiff northerly was blowing and it did not look pretty. Its always hard to guage the size of waves from the air, even at low altitude, but the sight of a northbound cargo ship rising up and crashing down into the waves sending spume flying halfway along its superstructure was enough to convince us that today was not the day to cross.

We flew out of Fort Lauderdale about 6 hours before Lottie and the kids flew in from LA which was a little gutting, so close!

With the forecast predicting the wind shifting to a more favourable easterly and easing throughout the day it was marginal call, but anxious to see our loved ones again we decided to give the Gulf Stream a go the next day on the condition that we would turn back if it was too unpleasant. We left under a pre-dawn sky with two of our new friends from different boats unprompted getting up when they heard our engines fire up and casting our lines off to help us out of the very tight marina berth. What nice people yachties are!

As predicted, the Gulf Stream was lumpy and wet with spray regularly flying over the boat but it was manageable and as the day went on conditions improved even to the point where we decided to fish and promptly lost one. The shipping was a bit crazy and at one point we ended up being the meat in a ship sandwich but with both captains chatting about how they were going to pass each other and us (deciding it would be funny to squeeze us in between them), it was comforting to know the Automatic Identification System (AIS) was doing its job. With the skyscrapers of Florida coming over the horizon well before we saw actual land, we had now crossed the Gulf Stream three times in three days by turbo prop, seaplane and yacht.

Welcome to Miami…

With Will Smith’s song playing in my head we entered the Lake Worth Inlet into the calm waters of the Intracoastal Waterway near West Palm Beach. Not quite Miami but close enough to make no difference and enough skyscrapers to provide a similar vibe. However, that is when the fun really started.

What happened next should be prefaced with a reminder of Florida’s long and well documented history with drug trafficking. It started in the 20s with prohibition and “rum runners”, the illegal import of rum by sea from the West Indies via the myriad of Bahamian Islands but really came to a head in the 70s and 80s when, according to the New York Times, 70% of all cocaine smuggled into the USA came through Florida, most of which originated in Colombia. At his peak, Pablo Escobar and his mates were shifting 15 tonnes of the powder a day!

Fast forward 40 years and as soon as Kilauea was inside the breakwater we spotted a huge, grey and black rigid inflatable with no less than four 350 horsepower engines strapped to the back and with six fully tooled up blokes that looked like marines all staring at us grimly. Being excited to have finally made it to the US, I gave them a cheery wave but they all remained unmoved except the shortest one at the back who raised his hand briefly until a scowl from the boss with the severest crewcut quickly dropped it again.

We motored past at 4 knots then when we were 100m away the driver opened up all engines and roared across to us in milliseconds, presumably to show us that escape in our 100 horsepower yacht was futile. The boat came alongside (leaving a large black smudge on the hull I later found) and the boss in a crewcut addresses us:

Crewcut: “Who is the captain of this vessel?”

Me sticking chest out with pride “That would be me!”

Crewcut: “Where have you come from?”

Me confidently: “Just Bimini in the Bahamas, it was pretty rough actually and…”

Crewcut: “and before that?”

Me in much smaller voice: “err, would you believe Colombia?”

Crewcut’s men start fingering their weapons more intently thinking they may get some action at last: “and you two men are the only ones on board are you? What is the purpose of your visit to the US?”

Me: “err yes its just us but I’m meeting my family here and I guess you would describe our visit as a delivery… but of this boat itself not of other stuff and…”

Crewcut: “OK I’ve heard enough, stand exactly where you are, keep your hands visible at all times, we are boarding your vessel”

Three blokes then jumped on board with their very black soled rubber boots (why can’t they have white soled shoes?) each with at least two firearms and, as Tom noted, even a hunting knife presumably for hand to hand combat. If they had only seen my pathetic performance in the last fight I was in at high school (think the fight scene from Bridget Jones) they probably wouldn’t have looked so serious. Tom being the well brought up polite man he is went to shake one of their hands and the weapons came up as if he was attacking them.

At this stage I was expecting the full cavity search and was grateful I was wearing one of my newest pairs of undies (still unsoiled despite the threat) but fortunately they were more interested in the boat. While one man guarded us, hands always on a weapon, another disappeared down below to do who knows what and the third covered him with his weapon presumably in case a crazy Colombian leaped out of one of the lockers with a machete like that scene out of The Hangover.

Suffice to say, after what appeared to be a pretty half hearted attempt at a search and after seeing Lottie and the kids waving from the marina wondering why we were motoring round in circles, crewcut finally relaxed and even appologised for taking so long. “I’m sorry captain <I’ll never get bored of being called that> as we are a federal agency we ultimately work for Biden which is why we are so inefficient”. Our first taste of American politics and we hadn’t even stepped ashore yet! With a strong current pushing us away from the dock we had one aborted attempt to dock before nailing it the second time and there were hugs and few tears all round. We’d delivered the boat to the USA within one day of Charlotte and the kids arriving there and the full crew were finally all together and on board. We just needed to get the boat ready for the Pacific now!