#11 Racing catamarans

“They’re getting away from us, what can we do?”

“The only thing we can do, put more sail up!”

Before we get into a blow by blow account of the big race between Womble and Kilauea I want to first describe the owners, Katrina and Dale. They’re about 10 years older than us but you wouldn’t know it from looking at them.  Katrina is one of the loveliest people you will ever meet. You can’t motor past their boat in the dinghy without her waving you over, “come aboard, I’ll put the kettle on and I’m sure I have a packet of hob-nobs somewhere”. That kind of person.  As for Dale, well imagine a charming cross between Bear Grylls (who happens to be Dale’s mate) and Richard Branson, a man with more stories to tell than there are sundowners to hear them. These include such adventures as circumnavigating Britain in a hobie cat which he did for a bet (probably the first and last to do such a ridiculous thing) and rebuilding a motorbike during the Dakar rally which he’s done multiple times. And that’s not to mention his army stories from all over the world which he can tell you but would then have to kill you unless he’s had more than two rums and then its fine. As Lottie would say, I struck up a bit of a bromance with Dale, he’s kind of the person that in another life I would quite like to have been!

Anyway, their boat, a Seawind 1600, is beautiful. Its designed as a high performance cruising cat and with its lifting dagger boards and rudders it can sneak into the shallowest of anchorages. Its beautifully fitted out as well and has struck a near perfect compromise between performance and comfort. Its longer, and, having no fixed keels, has less drag than Kilauea and should therefore be quite a bit faster. Beating it was going to take more than shear boat speed.

The race start was delayed while Dale and his offspring spent 20 minutes untangling the brand new spinnaker that they had just unwrapped and finally once it was hoisted and we had our big red Code D up we were off with Kilauea slightly ahead. Speeds were pretty much matched until Dale realised he hadn’t folded his propellors and once this was done, the boat became more hydrodynamic and they started drawing ahead. We were constantly bantering on the radio and the call came in from Son no. 1 that they would save us a spot in the next anchorage, the implication being they would arrive way before us. That’s when the call came from the captain to hoist more sail and we executed a manoeuvre we hadn’t tried before which was to hoist the mainsail whilst sailing downwind. After a bit of messing around with the lazy jacks (another sailing term that amuses Lottie) this worked and was yet another skill we could bank on for use at a later stage.

With the extra sail up we caught and then passed Womble who then put their main sail up and came charging up behind us. This is when I put my yacht racing skills into action. Womble couldn’t overtake us on the downwind side because as soon as they came alongside our Code D sail would blanket their spinnaker and they slowed down. Womble then turned sharply to pass on our upwind side and, in response, we pushed them higher and higher until their spinnaker collapsed as we could sail closer to the wind with our Code D than they could with their spinnaker. At times we were racing at 8 or 9 knots just metres away from each other although if our insurers had asked it was “cruising in company” (we’re not insured for racing).  It was very exciting and with these tactics in play and despite the fact Womble was the quicker boat we managed to keep them behind us until we crossed the virtual finish line and they conceded defeat. We had won!

Our destination was Staniel Cay home to the famous Yacht Club of the same name. The bar was festooned with burgees from a hundred other yacht clubs from around the world and with its old driftwood bar, low ceilings and profusion of rum based drinks, there was something very pirate-y about the place. It was also the first bar / pub we had been to in months and we had a raucous evening with the Wombles trying different rum cocktails and reliving the critical moments in the race.

We anchored for Christmas off Cruisers Beach on Big Farmers Cay amongst our friends on Womble, Noonsun and Swift and we all had plenty of playdates which included even one for the captain. The captains of Swift and Noonsun (Morgan and Ted) are keen kite boarders and they took me to a great kiteboarding beach on Christmas Eve.  I practiced handling my inflatable wing while they kited and then they took me upwind to have a go at wing foiling for the first time!  First, the positives.  I got up on the board first time and I was able to handle the wing pretty well sailing on a beam reach backwards and forwards and even managing to gybe once.  Then came the moment that I came up on the foil for the first time.  Pumping the wing, I could feel the board getting lighter and lighter before suddenly rising on its foil right out of the water.  So excited that I was actually flying I lost complete control, the board flipped over on its side and all 82kg of me landed on the thin edge of the board with my ribs taking all the impact load.  It was all I could do to sprawl on the board on my back gasping and twitching like a fish suddenly hauled out of the sea.  I was so winded I couldn’t even respond when Morgan asked me if I was OK other than in groans and gasps and vague pointing at my midriff.  Dale who had broken countless bones in various mishaps involving parachutes and motorbikes diagnosed me as not having broken anything but deep bruising that would take a long time to heal.  As I write this 5 weeks later I still have pain and I had to sleep on my back for 3 weeks.  For the rest of our time in the Bahamas I was unable to try the wing foil again or even hold my breath for long periods under water due to the pain.  Merry Christmas!

Christmas Day itself was no less magical for being afloat for the first time and Lottie’s efforts went a long way to ensure this.  We were all a little nervous that Santa wouldn’t be able to find us despite the two letters we sent him (does he have an AIS machine?) and so we decided to deck the boat out as best we could to attract him with fairy lights around the cockpit, home made decorations in the cabin and even a 1 foot high Christmas tree. We awoke to the sound of Jasmine shouting “wake up Hugo, he came, he actually came!” when she discovered all the presents around our little tree.  We had a great family day, a lovely joint of beef fillet for lunch and drinks with our friends on the trampolines in the afternoon.

The day after Boxing Day we decided we had been stationary for long enough and the four boats split up and went our separate ways with Noonsun staying around the Staniel Cay area, Swift picking up friends, Womble heading south to get their crew back to Georgetown and us deciding to head back north again to visit a couple of places we had missed on our race south.

First stop was O’Neil Cay where we anchored on our own off yet another perfect little uninhabited island with its perfect little empty beach. The next morning at slack tide we motored the dinghy over to the “aquarium”, a beautiful little coral garden famous for its numerous and varied fish.  It did not disappoint providing us with our best snorkelling to date and reminded me very much of some of the opening scenes of Finding Nemo.  At one stage a big stingray swept around the coral garden amongst the gem like fish of all colours and you almost could imagine him singing like “Ray” in the movie picking up the kid fish to take them to school.  We also had a little snoop at Johnny Depp’s Island but couldn’t find his dogs ( Pistol & Boo) that caused such as stir with Barnaby Joyce, in Australia.

Next stop was Cambridge Cay which provided us with a great walk around the windward side of the island including, shock horror, a climb of an actual hill! As we were cooling off in the shallows after the trek we started chatting to a nice Superyacht captain from Dorset who had set up his sun-downer beach bar for his guests who were the family that own Caesar’s Palace casino in Las Vegas.  I jokingly asked if he was selling beer and he replied no but he was giving them away for free.  Ice cold free beer, served from a paddle board bar while floating around in the shallows bantering with a Captain from Dorset and his hostess.  Maybe not heaven but close to it!  Two days before we had learned of a major collision at night near Nassau between a super yacht and a Bahamian propane gas supply ship with the latter being sunk with all crew fortunately saved.  When I asked the Captain for his take on what happened, he responded with:

“Youtube” 

“Eh?”. 

“The superyacht captain was probably on youtube, most don’t keep much of a lookout and you can’t see much from the steering position of these things. The old Bahamian ships often don’t switch their AIS on so he wouldn’t have seen him on his instruments.”  I shudder to think of 100 tonnes of yacht screaming through the water at 30 knots at night while the captain was watching funny memes about cats on his phone oblivious to anyone else who might be in the way.  What would Lord Nelson have made of that state of affairs?

Keeping a more vigilant look out than normal, we set sail the next day for another near deserted anchorage at Pipe Cay (other than the superyacht anchored next to us of course) which is a short dinghy ride from the famous Compass Cay Marina and its colony of nurse sharks.  The marina is popular with game fishing boats and about a dozen large nurse sharks hang out there all day hoping to pick up some scraps from the fish gutting area.  They are (allegedly) extremely docile and (allegedly) harmless so we joined a few other gritted teeth people and entered the water with them, that was before we saw the warning signs of course.  “We’re going to have to get used to sharks in the Pacific so we may as well start now!” I told my dubious looking family.  All was fine until one came up behind us and swam through the narrow gap between my legs and those of Jasmine raking its fins against us and scaring the bejusus out of both of us (and anyone else in earshot of our yelps/screams). There was also a bar there on the dock so this made it our second brush with large marine animals whilst holding a beer (the other being a manatee), my favourite type of nature watching.

By now it was the day before New Year’s Eve and we planned to celebrate the end of the bizarre year that was 2021 at North Point Settlement which was supposed to have reasonable provisioning shops and a couple of restaurants. As we approached the anchorage, Noonsun came on the radio calling us up.  They were just leaving and said the mail boat (which brings all the supplies to the island including food) wasn’t due in until tomorrow and the shops had no fresh food so why not head a couple of miles down the coast with them where they had heard about a cave you can swim in?  One of the wonderful things about cruising is the incredible freedom you have so just like that we changed our plans and headed off to Oven Rock.

After an emotional reunion between the kids, our expedition headed off into the island along a vague track until we came across, almost by accident, the site of the cave.  We stepped steeply down into the cavern and as eyes adjusted large stalactites and stalagmites loomed out of the darkness.  Shining torches at the ceiling we could see bats huddled up in corners waiting for night time to feed.  The pool of water was relatively small but there was a seemingly bottomless section in the middle which apparently links up to a whole series of deep underwater caves that cave divers sometimes explore.  The thought of descending through a narrow hole into the cold inky blackness as a fun activity was utterly bewildering to me.

We saw the green flash that night after a fun evening on board Noonsun and the next day, New Year’s Eve, we hoisted our big red Code D sail almost from anchor and sailed the 2 hours back to North Point Settlement anchoring up just as the mail boat came in and started unloading. There would be fresh food in the shops today!  This was true to a point but the cost was extreme.  Tomatoes came in at $2US per tomato, (3 Aussie dollars!) and for the next few days I made sure everyone savoured every slice of the bloody things.  That’s 50 cents you’ve left on your plate Hugo!

We somehow managed to stay awake to see in the New Year wondering if we would be doing the same next year on Kilauea but in Sydney Harbour.  It seemed a very long way away and made me think of our log book.  Boats like ours keep a constantly updated record on all major passages called a log book.  You generally fill this in either every hour or at the very least at the change of watch to record your position, distance made, weather conditions and any other notable things such as ships, seen fish caught or who won at cards.  Anyway, you fill in certain details about the passage when you start.  There’s a box for “from” where you fill out the port you embarked from but instead of “to” the log says “towards”.  I like this because you’re not 100% committing to going somewhere specific, just generally towards somewhere.  It reflects the fact that weather, some minor disaster or just a change in whim could intervene and you could end up somewhere else.  I say this because its very daunting to think we are sailing to Sydney and the huge ocean and distance we have to cross to get there.  Its much more comforting to say we are heading towards Sydney rather than to it, giving us some wiggle room if we’re not up to the job!

Anyway, time for the lessons learned / dodgy seamanship section of the post.  On New Year’s Day we decided to sail to Little Farmers Cay but instead of taking the cruisy route on the banks side we decided to head out into the Atlantic side and try to catch some decent fish.  This involved heading through one of the many cuts through which the current rushes with each change of tide.  The chart says “steep braking waves can occur when a strong ebb tide opposes an East wind.”  OK, let’s be honest I only actually read those words and thought about the state of the tide (it was ebbing) and wind direction (er yes, it was from the East) as we approached what looked like the rapids of a river but by then we were fully committed with Kilauea in the grips of the outgoing current. Before we knew it waves were braking over the boat, through open hatches soaking 2 of our three beds, I was alone at the helm and Charlotte said all she could see from the cabin was bright blue sky followed by deep blue ocean as the boat pitched up and down in the waves.  The kids clung onto the cushions in the lounge screaming “are we all going to die?!” and Lottie was trying to both console them and hold back the bottles of spirits that were intent of throwing themselves around the cabin.  Save the gin or comfort the kids?  A moral maze if ever there was one.  Meanwhile, I was thinking that this was a great way to test the boat in heavy seas and was enjoying gunning the powerful engines to keep the boat heading the right way.

Anyway, as soon as it started it seemed to be over and we were in the long manageable swell of the Atlantic Ocean where we swapped terror for mild seasickness.  Out with the fishing lines as we headed offshore quickly passing over the 1,000m deep contour line.  Almost as soon as we did the rod buckled and we had our first fish, a beautiful mahi mahi that leapt and dived like a crazed thing before throwing the hook.  Out with the lure again and within the hour we had landed a brace of mahi mahi each one providing two family meals.  The new freezer we had had delivered to us in Staniel Cay was starting to pay for itself already.

We came through the cut at Little Farmers Cay this time with the wind and current and it was like a mill pond.  We anchored off the channel opposite the tiny yacht club and went in search of the famous local turtles.  In the 4 weeks we had started our cruising adventure we had already had some pretty cool experiences but swimming with turtles was absolutely top of the pile for all of us.  One would loom out of the slightly stirred up water and take a couple of laps around us allowing us to stroke its shell as it swept by.  I took my favourite underwater photo to date during this encounter.

The next day saw us experience a major challenge as we attempted to bring up the anchor. We were in a strong current that was flowing towards a shallow bank of sand.  As we brought up the anchor, Lottie called from the bow, “Er, you need to see this, we seem to be stuck to the sea bed”.  The anchor would not come up no matter what we did, it seemed to be attached to seabed somehow.  I grabbed my mask and flippers and dived in.  Our anchor was attached to an old mooring that someone had laid down many years ago and then abandoned and we must have got tangled as we swung with the tide.  The problem was twofold.  Firstly, there were multiple ropes wrapped around our anchor which meant there was no way to easily free ourselves and secondly the mooring line was attached to an old car engine which was too heavy to lift up but not heavy enough to stop us dragging slowly but surely towards the shallows.  With the current increasing, if we didn’t do anything we would soon be fast aground on the sand bank possibly damaging the boat.  What to do?

Our solution was to drop the anchor again which fortunately held and so that at least we would stop dragging towards the bank and then grab the kitchen knife and dive on the anchor to try to cut through the ropes attaching it to the old engine.  The problem was the tide was running so strongly now it was all I could do, paddling furiously, to stay stationary above the underwater knotted nightmare.  I then had to dive down, saw through the old thick barnacle encrusted rope like crazy cutting as much as I could before running out of puff and then getting back to the surface and trying desperately to re-oxygenate before having another go.  I could do about half a rope per dive and with about 6 ropes I managed to free the anchor in about a dozen dives and then swim back to the boat and gun the engines and raise the anchor and get the hell out of there!

Next stop was Rudder Cut Cay where we again reunited with Noonsun (our rum was really taking a hit by this stage) and snorkelled the really cool underwater art installation designed by David Copperfield which took the form of a mermaid relaxing against a piano.  I also observed an incredible phenomenon that I had only seen once before about 30 years ago.  I woke up around 3am and went on deck to have a look around.  The sky was incredibly clear, there was no moon and the stars were as bright as I can remember them.  At the same time, the water was absolutely completely calm, like there was no water at all but a giant mirror that the 5 or 6 boats in the anchorage were embedded in.  The result was that all the stars were reflected perfectly in the jet black water and this gave the illusion that the boats were all floating in space surrounded by stars both above, below and all around them.  A really surreal experience and one that was impossible to catch on my iPhone camera. The next stop after Rudder Cut Cay was GeorgeTown the capital of the Exumas and the place where we were to meet up with our delivery crew and set off for our biggest challenge to date as a family, the 1,000 mile week long passage across the Caribbean Sea back to Panama.  How did we go?  Find out in the next instalment!