Folks have asked me if Big Duck will ever make the run across the Gulf Stream to the Bahamas. What do you think after reading this log entry from July 2000?
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I saw a guy on the stage. He chained a girl in a small box, then pushed swords through the box in several places. Then he hid the box behind a curtain. When he removed the curtain, the girl was sitting on top of the box, unhurt. Another fellow made the Statue of Liberty disappear during a live show. This may be entertaining, but it’s not magic.
Magic is when you enter the Gulf Stream and the water changes to a color that defies description. Magic is when flying fish appear out of nowhere, skitter for 10 to 15 seconds above the wave tops and disappear. Magic is the way porpoise will accompany you for a spell on your journey across the Gulf Stream, and somehow you know they are welcoming you to their world. Magic is the appearance of an island after you’ve been staring into the infinity of the horizon for hours. Magic is being able to see a Bahamian sea shell the size of a quarter, on the bottom in 50 feet of water. Color you can only imagine, fish that fly, porpoise that communicate with humans, islands that appear out of nowhere, crystal clear water…this is magic.
My wife and I had been to the Bahamas often when we lived aboard our 27’ sailboat in the early 70’s. In ’77 we turned our back to the sea to raise a family ashore, but while Neptune relaxed his grip on us during those years, he never turned us completely loose. The call of the water is now stronger than ever. I answer that call with weekends aboard once a month and hopefully a longer adventure a couple times a year.
This adventure of magic began Friday morning, July 7th 2000, at about 9:30. NICKY, a Seaswirl 1850 WA (cuddy cabin) powered by a 115 Ficht outboard motor, was packed and ready. Trailer wheel bearings had been checked, all lights on the trailer and ‘Old Green’, my ’72 Ford Pick-up, were functional and all tire pressures were brought up to spec.
Old Green has about 200,000 miles on her, but is still quite content pulling the 3,500 lb boat/trailer as long as I feed her premium gas. We get about 11 ½ mpg while towing with the air conditioner on. We made Manatee Pocket near Stuart FL a little after 1 o’clock Saturday morning. I considered splashing NICKY, but decided against it - I just slept aboard in the parking lot at the ramp. I was up and on my way south a little after 6am on Saturday.
I completed the 723 mile run from home to the ramp at John Lloyd State Park at 8:25 Saturday morning. The ramp is just off the ICW (Intra Coastal Waterway) a mile or so south of the Fort Lauderdale Inlet. I splashed NICKY and meandered up the ICW past the old 17th Street Bridge. It’s a new high level bridge now; I’ll miss the timers that used to advise boaters how many minutes until the next scheduled opening.
I tied up at the Lauderdale Marina small boat dock. I bought ice and asked the whereabouts of the Offshore Towing headquarters. I learned that the Offshore Towing office was right around back, upstairs. Before committing, I wanted to talk to them about venturing across the Gulf Stream to Bimini in an 18 ½’ boat. You can also file a float plan with them if you like.
The guys in the towing office were knowledgeable and friendly, and even though they said their antenna would pick up a VHF radio call from Bimini, and they occasionally tow boats back from there, they wouldn’t bless my trip. “So you don’t think it’s a good idea for an 18 ½ foot boat to make the run across?”
“Ehhhhhh,” was the reply.
“It’s only 60 miles. I could make it in a couple hours. What do you think?”
“Ehhhhhh,” was again the reply. “If you had a problem, you could get into trouble waiting for help if the weather turned on you.”
They were being cautious and polite. I don’t blame them. If I didn’t know me, I’d think I was crazy too. I told them that the NOAA weather forecast called for calm seas with the weather holding until tomorrow and that I’d run out the inlet and have a look.
“Ehhhhhh.”
The inlet was a pussy cat. The Gulf Stream was inviting. I went out 5 miles, turned off the engine and gave the boat a thorough going over. All systems were A-OK. Another five miles, another ‘boat check’ and another A-OK. I re-confirmed the favorable NOAA forecast. The cell phone still had a faint signal…I called home at about 11am and left a message, “I’m going for Bimini.”
I took off the life jacket (always worn when running an inlet) and put it on the seat next to me along with the handheld VHF, cell phone and spare GPS. I was as ready as I’d ever be. I clipped the ignition kill lanyard to my belt loop. I patted NICKY and said, “Let’s do it!”
I set the GPS to ‘highway’ mode with Bimini as the destination waypoint. I could easily see when I was on the GPS defined road, and the arrow pointed in the direction to steer. This is the cat’s pajamas compared to the rigamarole we went through navigating on the sailboat to make the same passage. I put NICKY at 18 mph and settled in for the now 50 miles of open water.
In the next 10 miles I was passed by 2 boats. I fell in behind the second one and goosed the throttle to keep up. I’m not sure why, but being behind another boat was comforting. I questioned the feeling and decided it was a false comfort. If I did have a problem, I would simply fade out of sight in his rear view mirror. I slowed and watched him disappear into the horizon.
A few minutes later, I spotted something in the water up ahead. I diverted to see what it was. As I approached, I saw that although it was painted like a beachball, it was actually a flimsy vinyl balloon. I plucked it out of the water and put it below. I have an informal collection of stuff I’ve picked up while boating that includes fishing bobbers, boat fenders, even a duck decoy from an inland lake.
So I’m just getting her on a plane again after a 5 mile ‘boat check’, thinking about how I’m alone ‘out here’ when I hear a rustle and feel a nudge at my shoulder. I turn and see a girl’s eyes just inches from my face. “Holy S***!”
Then with another rustle, the beach ball balloon - with a women’s face on the other side of it - is whisked off the boat back into the water. I guess she just wanted to say, “Thanks for the lift.”
About 12:30 I spotted something on the horizon. “Well I’ll be damned,” it’s Bimini. It caught me totally off guard. What a rush - discovering an island in the middle of nowhere.
I don’t condone cruising without charts, but I usually do not have them, especially if I have a cruising guide. In this case, I had The Bahamas Cruising Guide by Mathew Wilson. I was using Mathew’s GPS waypoint for the Bimini landfall. I also felt comfortable with Mathew’s instructions for the Bimini approach. When I arrived at the waypoint, I could easily spot the range on the beach that was described in the cruising guide. I got on the range, crossed the bar and made my way slowly into Bimini harbor.
I anchored at the far end of the harbor as suggested in the cruising guide and knocked back an ice cold bottle of Bartles and Jaymes, Bahama Mamma which I had stashed in the cooler in anticipation of celebrating a successful passage. Man did it taste good, and man, did I feel good. Me, my little boat, Bimini, finally…this was the 3rd attempt.
I have to admit, I don’t know much about the land side of Bimini. I didn’t go ashore. From the water Bimini is a paradox, a potential paradise with little substance. Small dilapidated buildings, no doubt housing shops and bars if you’re into that. There don’t appear to be any of the lush hotels or resorts one normally associates with an affluent land based paradise. This was of no concern to me, because my paradise encompasses very little land side, but if your paradise is primarily land based, there is hope for you. Nearby Bimini Sands (http://www.bimini.com/) is under construction and already sports a few condos, swimming pool and a large marina. It would be a GREAT base for a Bimini holiday.
After about ½ hr of marveling at the cruising boats and fish in the clear waters of the harbor, I headed south to Gun Cay. There’s a little anchorage there called Honeymoon Harbor. It’s about 10 miles from Bimini to Gun, a journey I wasn’t in any hurry to complete - the Bahamian waters are so pleasant and inviting.
Honeymoon Harbor was crowded, but I had no trouble finding a place to drop the hook in about 18” of water. There were several large Sport Fisherman, many power cruisers and a couple water maggots in the anchorage, but I was undoubtedly the smallest boat there that had made the crossing on it’s own bottom. Sailboats had their own place, they were anchored on the backside of Gun in the more protected waters, but they didn’t have a nice beach. I did go ashore at Gun, I took some pictures from the beach, then went back aboard and made preparations for the return trip across the Gulf Stream. I wanted to get back across The Stream while the weather was so accommodating.
I left Gun about 2:45pm, heading toward Ft Lauderdale at 24 mph. It wasn’t long before I overtook a trawler. As I glanced at him astern, I noticed a Sport Fisherman coming up on me. As the Sport Stink came along side, I slid the throttle forward to match his speed. He was doing 30 mph. I gave it a little more gas, approaching 35 mph. As I pulled away from the Sport Stink, I realized that if someone wanted to feel comfortable by being near another boat, real comfort would be realized by being in front of, not behind, a companion. That way, if you developed a problem you’d have a chance to flag down the other boat as he passed. I slowed back to 30 but the Sport Stink lagged farther and farther behind. Maybe all he wanted was to get a look at me?
I kept her at 30 mph. I felt like a Ski Do dancing on the tops of the waves, but when I did come down I came down easy and stayed dry. The feeling was pure exubilaration (exuberance/exhilaration), but a guy couldn’t accomplish much more than hanging on at this speed in a boat my size, even taking a sip from a can of pop was impossible. Nonetheless, I kept up the speed until I made the sea buoy at Lauderdale. The return trip across the Gulf Stream had taken a little over 2 hours. I did drop the speed back some to run the inlet. The wind had picked up and I had to negotiate some chop - but at this point a little spray in the face every now and then just added to the excitement. As I rollercoasted my way through the inlet, I was passed by an 80 foot pleasure boat – they were having drinks on the fantail, oblivious to the sea conditions. Size matters when comfort at sea is concerned.
The weather both going and coming had been perfect - I had not tasted sea spray once, or taken even a drop aboard the whole time over and back. There were no systems failures, the motor never missed a beat and nothing broke off, or fell off the boat. It was an ideal experience. Don’t be fooled though, it’s not always like this. There are nightmares out there as well as magic. An open water passage is never to be taken lightly. Also, I’ve got to mention the Bahamian sun, it’s different there. In the US, the sun has many other things to do than just shine. In the Bahamas, the sun’s only job it to find places on human bodies that haven’t been protected by sunblock. All day, every day, the Bahamian sun searches for places that you missed. Maybe it’s the top or inside of your ears, a small spot near your hairline, the bottoms of your feet, the inside of your nose, or your eyelids. If you miss even the tiniest place with the sunblock, the Bahamian sun will find it and toast it - guaranteed.
Once in the harbor, I made my way north up the ICW a short way to the shoal at the junction of the ICW and the New River. It’s a favorite spot of mine, right in the middle of everything including a respected no wake zone. I dropped the hook there, regrouped and knocked back the last ice cold bottle of Bahama Mamma.
You can’t be in Lauderdale without doing the New River. The New River is a boaters wonder. There are boats of all kinds moored along both sides of a 4 or 5 mile stretch. High dollar water front real estate, luxury boat builders and upscale repair facilities abound. There are also do it yourself yards and shacks along the way. It’s truly an amazing area. About 5 miles up, there’s an area void of development. I believe it’s a preserve of some sort. It was 7pm as I approached this quiet area. I dropped the hook and curled up below for a nap.
I woke up at 2am. Not wanting to miss an opportunity for a little night cruise, I brought the anchor aboard and lit up the outboard. I made my way back, at 5 mph in the dark. There was no other boat traffic; I had the river to myself. The glow coming from boat portholes, landscaping illumination and domestic lights add a whole new perspective to the area. And of course there are the stars. The smells are different too - the fragrance of flowers along the banks, the aroma of steak and ribs from the nightclubs and bars along the way, the smells of sawdust and fresh paint from new construction, and an occasional whiff of perfume from women holding drinks on the big yachts. Boating at night is rewarding, but it does have it’s challenges…the markers can be hard to see, the deep water can be elusive, and it’s hard to see floating obstacles. But if you keep the speed down and stay vigilant a nighttime cruise offers one of the great pleasures of boating.
I finally made my way back to my shoal at the junction of the New River and ICW and hooked out for the remainder of the night. I was up early and had the coffee water boiling before sunrise. I use those ‘coffee singles’, a one serving ‘tea bag’ of coffee that you put in boiling water. I’d been advised by Peggie Hall, Head Mistress of rec.boats, that the flavor is enhanced if you keep the cup covered while the coffee is brewing. I killed two birds with one stone by covering the brewing coffee in my styrofoam cup with a foil package of Pop Tarts. In a few minutes I had tasty steaming coffee and a warm toaster pastry. Believe me, Peggie is right on when she recommends keeping a cover on the brewing coffee. The used bags of coffee can be a nuisance to dispose of, so I just leave them in the cup and drink around them…then throw away the bags with the cup.
Hot coffee in hand, I watched the sunrise while exploring the floating real estate in Bahia Mar. It’s hard to believe anyone has enough money to buy and maintain one of those monster yachts, but there they are, row upon row of them. Bahia Mar is also the home of the Jungle Queen. The Jungle Queen is a tour boat that takes you along the New River. If you’re ever in Lauderdale without a boat, you must take this cruise. Even if you’re not a boater, you can still appreciate the scenery in Fort Lauderdale, “The Venice of America”.
By this time it was nearing 8am. John Lloyd opens at eight, and I knew even if I put NICKY back on the trailer before then, I wouldn’t be able to get out of the park, so I hadn’t been in a hurry to get to the ramp. Even now, I wasn’t ready to take NICKY ashore, but I motored into the little bay anyway, just to get a feel for activity at the ramp. I put NICKY’s bow on the beach across from the ramp, and tied a line to an overhanging branch. I enjoy watching people launching their boats and getting ready for a day on the water. Before I knew it, the cars/trailers were backed up about a quarter mile waiting for their turn at the ramp. I untied NICKY and headed south down the ICW to The Dania Cutoff.
The Dania Cutoff parallels the New River both geographically and scenery wise. The Cutoff is generally a little less upscale, a little shallower and a little narrower, but it has a charm of it’s own. In a small boat, you can follow the Cutoff inland to a point where it intersects with the New River. I’d done that loop on the last trip, but it wasn’t in the cards for today. It was getting time to be hitting the road for home.
Bu the time I got back to the ramp, all the morning boaters were well on their way. I had the place to myself. I had NICKY loaded and road ready in about 15 minutes. I was officially on my way back home at 9:45 am Sunday.
I pulled into my driveway in Spartanburg about 24 hours later - Monday morning at 9:20 am. It had taken a while to get home because I’d drive a while, pull over and crawl into the boat for a nap. Get up, drive a while, another nap…basically the same routine as when I’m on the boat.
It’s been suggested that all those road miles must be tedious and boring, especially since I don’t even have a radio in the truck. But my mind loves the unstimulated freedom. I contemplate and plan on the way down, and reflect all the way back. This is easily accomplished because I totally ignore all speed limit signs; I also never change lanes to pass - you hate me because I’m going 52 miles/hour, but I’m enjoying the trip.
The magic isn’t over just because I’m back home. On my way home I’ve planned another boating adventure – and the magic begins again in the preparation for that voyage.
Would I cross The Stream alone again in a small boat?
I’ll go if you will.
Nick in Spartanburg, SC
Land miles = 1,423
Car gallons = 123.3
Boat miles = 158.1
Engine hours = 12.1
Boat gallons = 30.9
‘Old Green’ at John Lloyd Park in Lauderdale NICKY at Honeymoon Harbor - Bahamas
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