The Great Bahamas trip: Part 6 / Chub Cay to Bimini

Two Years Before the Mast – Chub Cay to Bimini

By: Nat Manning

After a nice layover in Chub Cay, we cast off on Tuesday, the 10th of February and motored out clear of the reefs off Moma Roda Rock. We unfurled the sail and slowly slid down the underside of the Berry Islands, past an almost submerged cargo ship, and once again onto the shallow Grand Bahama Bank at the Northwest Passage Marker. It was a nice sail and truly an enjoyable experience, though near the end of the day, the wind began picking up and as darkness descended upon us, we dropped anchor southwest of Mackie Shoal near Larks Two Fathom Bridge. The wind and darkness increased together and the night was spent in a pitching boat with the wind howling in the rigging. Not the best of nights spent on the banks, but better than a sharp stick in the eye. 

Morning saw us eager to be on our way and not long after daylight, with breakfast behind us, the engine was running and I was on the bow. We were ready to winch in the anchor and put some miles behind us. I deftly stepped on the button to bring up the anchor but the winch turned without turning the wildcat that pulls the anchor chain. So nothing happened. It was broke. I turned around and attempted to communicate my problem to the Skipper at the controls. He in turn completed a series of hand and arm gestures to communicate to me. The communications became more and more intense as the meanings separated into ones less understood and ones more understood. Finally, in complete frustration, the Skipper grabbed a whip, a baseball bat, and a hat with Mickey Mouse ears, and came storming out on deck to find out what the heck was going on. He rapidly assessed that I had broken the windlass and that getting the anchor up was going to be a real chore.

While I curled up in the fecal position and rocked, the Skipper went down below, found the manual for the windlass, read it, and determined that I had somehow loosened the clutch. He got a screwdriver, tightened the clutch, looked at me as if I were a malignant puss wart, and told me to raise the something or other anchor. He went back to the controls, and I raised the anchor. We were underway, though not at daybreak like we had intended. 

As the light of day increased and the sun climbed clear of the water and into the sky, the wind decreased from the hurricane force that we had enjoyed through the night to ten knots. So light that we had to crank up the iron monster in the bilge and motorsail most of the way back to Bimini, where we were looking forward to something to eat besides my cooking. Our last day on the Bahama Banks was everything we could ask, with calm seas, clear waters, and even an aquatic show by a pod of bottlenose dolphins at the edge of the Bank as we passed through the Bimini chain into the darker deeper waters of the Gulf Stream and skirted the islands back up and into the harbor at Bimini again and into our same spot on the dock at Bimini Blue Water Marina.

There, we met up with some of our Canadian friends who were still waiting for a good weather window from when we were there last time. Which causes me to end this narrative with a story.

Bush made a grave error in not attacking Canada. These people are absolutely dangerous. They travel in naval task forces of sailboats with big grins and a distinct party atmosphere about them. They invade small defenseless islands like Bimini, drink up all the beer, and soak up all of the fun. They take up most of the room at the marinas and anchorages and act as if they had as much right to be there as any other foreigner. Something needs to be done about the Canadian aggression taking place throughout the islands and waterways. I made a serious attempt to infiltrate their ranks and gather intelligence, but found that I lost interest after several Kaliks and a lot of laughing. 

I did attain a dramatic piece of intel of an impending attempt by the Canadian navy to overthrow the government on Bimini. It seems that a dispute had arisen about the dock slip fees they were being charged. They went to the Ministry of Tourism, The Ministry of Business, and were sent to the Bimini division of the Bahamas National Police Force. An appointment was made for the police to show up at the marina office the next day for a confrontation between the marina and the sailors. The whole island went to bed that night with the feeling of electricity in the air at the anticipation of a revolt taking place. Or at least the boaters did.

The next morning sunrise found me in a vantage point with my camera in hand as the Canadian navy approached the battlefield. Upon assembling, they waited. The cops never showed. The marina people didn’t show for several hours. Nobody with any authority from the marina showed at all. Time passed. The revolution lost momentum. Everybody lost interest. Everybody eventually paid their bills and left. The Whole Canadian / Bahamian War was very anticlimactic. That’s the way wars are fought on island time. 

With the Canadian Navy having pulled out, it was a quiet day and last night in Bimini. I will miss the Canadians, the Bahamians, and our fellow cruisers that proudly fly the Stars and Bars. There’s no need to tell you how sad it is to me to say goodbye to the Bahamas, the people, the islands, the water, and the spirit that hangs over the whole ménage like a living picture of a paradise world that we can visit, but never possess. Home is forty-five miles away across the Gulf Stream. This is it. This is the end of our island adventure and the beginning of our voyage home. Home to the people we love and miss.

Filed Under: Travels

Tags: Bahamas • travel