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.

By: Nat Manning

Leaving Nassau Harbor consists of a rapid transition from the quiet calm of the seaport to the deep ocean swells of the Tongue of the Ocean. From calm to six foot waves in just a few minutes. From the forty feet of the ship channel through the cut, to over three thousand feet of the Tongue in less than a mile. From inshore to blue water in less time than it takes to make a grilled cheese sandwich. 

While sailing through plunging six foot waves and 25 knots of wind broad off the starboard quarter, I didn’t pay as much attention to Nassau growing smaller and sinking astern as I wanted to.

Leaving port always divides me between the regret of leaving the safe port that I’ve grown to love, and the excitement of sailing off the edge of the world, over the horizon, to a new and exciting destination that promises magic and mysteries waiting to be discovered. I was abruptly snatched from my reverie by the Skipper screaming, “Stop that driveling before I nail your lips to the boom again!”

Though rough, the forty mile voyage from Nassau to Chub Cay in the Berry Islands went very well and quickly. The barren ruggedness of the rocky islands perched at the north edge of the deep abysmal tongue was not lost on the Skipper as we skirted past the famous landmark islands of Whale Cay, Fraziers Hog, Moma Roda, and Diamond Rocks. 

Approaching The inlet at Chub Cay, the Skipper cranked the engine and furled the sails only moments before I crapped in my pants. Though the charts indicated waters to shallow, we followed some of the few navigation aids in the Bahamas into the canal of the marina without ever seeing less than nine feet of water. It has been so long now since we’ve been aground that we are discussing looking for a sand bar to plow into.

Entering the canal into the marina, the sailors world transpires from rugged natural to smooth modern manmade protection as you inter the marina basin from the concrete wall lined canal. Inside, the modern marina has new floating concrete docks and slips with all the class of any three star resort facility. Looking around at the nicest marina we have seen this whole trip, the Skipper got a real dreamy look on his face that frightened me a little bit. In a choked, raspy voice, he said, “We’re staying over here an extra day!”

Chub Cay Marina is a true hurricane hole that would provide complete protection in any weather except a hurricane. Though the wind howled outside and heavy surf pounded the harsh rocky shore, we spent the stillest and quietest night I think of our whole trip. The next day, the Skipper rented a golf cart for the day and we explored the whole island, even visiting the international airport located at the north end of the island. I didn’t get pictures of the airport, but just insert the pictures of the Bimini Airport, it’s close enough.

We became good friends with Harry, the bartender in “Harry’s Bar” and enjoyed the beauty and hospitality of the island. I took lots of pictures, then found a brochure book of the island with better pictures than the ones I took, go figure. Chub Cay is a beautiful place and comes highly recommended for it’s beauty and secluded beaches. 

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On Wednesday, February 4, 2009 Elise II arrived in Nassau around five o’clock in the morning. As the Skipper tided up the boat and secured all the equipment from the overnight passage, I (Gilligan) spent most of the day in the bunk sleeping, much to the chagrin of the Skipper. After sufficient rest, and thinking that the Skipper must have completed all of the hard work, I roused and readied myself for a very important mission.

A couple of years ago, while cruising aboard my trusty ship Snap One with my dear sweet Mom, we had stopped in Nassau for reprovisioning enroute to the Exumas. While there, my dear Mother was possessed by a voodoo demon and drawn into the clutches of a place known by locals and cruisers as “The Poop Deck”. She was wickedly seduced into the consumption of conch fritters and a dangerous island rum fruit drink called a “Yellow Bird”.

Mom quickly descended into a pit of decadence, consumed by conch fritters and yellow birds. She required constant supervision and disappeared everytime I turned my back, only to be found at the Poop Deck, eating and drinking herself into a stupor. She often created a scene as she was being drug out of the place and back to the boat. It was almost as if she had been abducted by a cult. She was only cured through several months of sea therapy in the out islands.

Anyway, upon hearing that I was returning to Nassau, she made me promise to go to the Poop Deck and have an order of conch fritters and a yellow bird for her. So, I prepared myself and set out to the Poop Deck to fulfill my obligation and have an order of conch fritters and a yellow bird in honor of my Mother, which I did.

The Bahamas produce a beer known as Kalik, which looks and tastes a lot like good quality beers found in America. It needs to be warned though that it is stronger than American beer and if not respected accordingly, will cause impaired faculties and abnormal behavior such as singing loudly and dancing alone with no music.

I have to admit that several times while in Nassau, I fell victim to the ill effects of Kalik Beer. After exhaustive research, I determined that the two best places in Nassau to imbibe the cold bubbly amber foamy fluid is The Poop Deck and The Green Parrot. The Poop Deck is actually shown on some nautical charts. The Green Parrot is next to BASRA (Bahamas Air Sea Rescue Association) and both places have dinghy docks. It is a good idea to go ahead and enroll in an alcohol program before you leave so that you can check right in upon your return. Three more classes and I’ll be finished.

It’s a place some people hate, with all the hustle bustle of a busy large seaport. It has all the trash, crime, dirt, and chaos that you will find in every big city. I can’t wait to get back there again. In many ways, New Providence Island really hasn’t changed all that much from the days that Edward Teach (Blackbeard), Jack Rackam, Mary Reed, and Anne Bonnie, as well as many other pirates anchored and docked roamed, drank and partied in the exactly same places that sailors do today. I feel priviledged to walk the same streets and sidewalks. To spit off the same seawalls as so many sailors before me. On Sunday, the 8th of February, we left Nassau and part of my heart after a much too short 4 days. As the island slowly sinks into the ocean astern, I look forward to someday returning.

The intrepid crew of the mighty ship Elice II had arrived in Bimini on the 28th day of January, 2009. The last day of January was a sad day aboard Elice II as it was the Admirals last day with us. We rode the water taxi and caught the jitney to the airport to see her off. She was a great shipmate and will be greatly missed.

The Skipper informed me that with the Admiral gone, all the responsibility fell upon him now and on occasion, I might have to flog myself. That night we dined with uncharacteristic silence aboard on beef stew and rice. Things are not going to be the same from here on out. I fear that discipline will suffer. 

On Tuesday the 3rd of February, the Skipper and I cast off at 0800hrs eastern standard time and raised the mainsail as we steamed out of the harbor into a strong west wind and 6 to 8 foot seas. Turning south along the coast the Skipper ordered the engine shut down and we sailed down the coast of Bimini, retracing our route. Upon passing onto the Grand Bahama Bank and through the Turtle Rocks, the large ocean waves were left behind and we sailed on the smooth quiet waters of the bank with the bottom clearly in sight. Rounding the waypoint off Cat Cay, we unfurled the jib and were soon flying along at speeds sometimes hitting 8 knots. The bottom of the ocean, a mere ten feet below us appeared to be flying by at great speed.

We had drug the green skirt down the Gulf of Mexico, across the Gulf Stream, and it seemed appropriate to string it out and continue our trolling program.

The day seemed to slip by all too quick and with the sun low in the Western sky, the Skipper ordered the main furled and we continued under the jib alone at 5 to 6 knots. Darkness settled over us, but the moving map and radar kept us safe and on course as we plowed through the night. I passed the whole day without a flogging, see, discipline is already slipping. Around 2200hrs, we sailed past the Northwest Channel Light and watched the depth sounder go from twenty feet to off soundings within a mile as we sailed off the bank and into the Tongue of The Ocean. 

As I had napped during the day in my cabin to the Skippers “lazy sea scum!” the Skipper went down for a short rest as we were in deep water and he mumbled something like “even an idiot can run the boat out here.” So, suddenly, I am the Officer of the Watch! Gliding along in the night with the autohelm steering, I felt the weight of the world on my shoulders. I told myself to relax, “nothing can go wrong out here!”

Then I saw a spot on the radar out around 15 miles where nothing should be. I tried wiping the spot off with a towel. Thirty minutes later I saw lights ahead and the spot on the radar had moved! Oh Turds! A ship was coming directly at us. I tagged the ship with the cursor the way the Skipper had taught me and the MARPA window told me that the ship would pass one quarter mile off my port side. I touched the button on the autopilot and the radar now said that the ship would pass one half mile off the left side. That was much better. I watched the behemoth pass through my binoculars and wondered what kind of grub was being served in their mess tonight. I politely asked the autopilot to turn back on course, but then I saw more lights ahead and the radar confirmed that they were coming toward me too. I turned back away from the rhumb line and watched the mega yacht pass, wondering what gourmet meal was being served in their dining room tonight. I was about to turn back on course when I noticed another target on the radar and half an hour later watched another freighter pass off our port side, wondering what kind of grub was being served in their mess tonight.

Soon, with all the traffic behind us, I was headed to rejoin the rhumb line when the Skipper came back on deck and immediately saw that we were off course. After the flogging, I told him I had deviated for traffic. He looked around and said, “What traffic?” He flogged me again for lying. He is a fine Skipper and is determined to make a sailor out of me. 

The turn toward Nassau as we came off the Great Bahama Bank put the wind directly off the stern, but as we were in the lee of the Berry Islands, the seas were calm and the ride good. About two in the morning when we cleared the Berry Islands though, the seas started running pretty high. It was hard to tell in the dark. The Skipper said they were running about six feet, but I think it was more like thirty six. With the wind on the stern, the sail was not providing any roll stability and the mighty ship began to roll from side to side as she sailed along straight as an arrow at 6 knots and greater. The ride was very uncomfortable and we could hear crashes below as the contents of the cabins began to scramble themselves again as they had back in the Gulf Stream. Our arrival time at the sea buoy at Nassau Harbor was at five in the morning, so we had three hours to hang on as our vessel ran for New Providence Island like a runaway horse. 

At a little after four in the morning with the lights of Nassau clearly in sight and the boat still rolling violently at six and a half knots, I went to reel in the green skirt, only to discover that a fish was pulling hard on it in the other direction. The Skipper gave me a look that would freeze seawater. I began fighting the fish as I tried to hang on for dear life in the rolling cockpit. After what seemed like forever, I was soaked with sweat in spite of the coldness of the night at sea. I had caught a monster of a fish that must have been 10 feet long, even though the skipper says it was only 3 feet long. With the whale up to the boat we went back to navigating the boat through the ship channel into the quiet stillness of the sheltered waters of Nassau Harbor. It was still pitch dark and all the shore lights were blinding. We could barely see the cruise ship docks as we slipped past, furling the sails and becoming a motor vessel. At this point, we had drug the poor fish till he was very unhappy. I reeled him up and tried to lift him into the cockpit, but he was just too heavy and the line broke. With the ship underway in a dark harbor, losing the fish was the best thing that could have happened to us at that time. We crept through the darkness, under the Paradise Island bridges, and landed on the outside dock at Nassau Yacht Haven Marina, tying up and securing the boat as the sky turned grey in the East. I went to my bunk to get some rest as the Skipper straightened up the boat and did all the work. Later that afternoon, he flogged me for an hour. We have completed another great passage in our epic adventure. Can we have a moment of silence for the loss of the green skirt? Stay tuned for the next episode.

Bimini deserves it’s own article. Why? Because Bimini is a very special place. In essence, it really isn’t that much to look at. Most baseball players can stand in the water on one side of North Bimini and hit a ball into the water on the other side of North Bimini. The island only has two roads. One that runs up the west side, and the main road that runs up the east side. They are only a small block apart. As a tourist, you could actually arrive late, see everything on the island, leave, and get home before supper. It’s hard to put your finger exactly on what makes Bimini special, but it’s a feel that the place has. It’s like a frontier town perched at the edge of the Gulf Stream. You almost imagine that John Wayne and Clint Eastwood could suddenly step out of the End Of The World Bar, or the Bimini Breeze, and have a shootout in the street while wearing flip flops and flower printed shirts.

You can feel the presence of Papa Hemingway in everything you touch on the island. Though his old digs, the Complete Angler has recently burned down, many pictures of Papa and his fish catches still adorn many walls, yellowed and fading. The fireplace chimney is still standing amidst the ruins and you can’t help looking at the fireplace and imagining Hemingway and the many colorful characters that surely sat in front of it as the weather roared and moaned outside.

The End of the World Bar is one of the most despicable places I have ever been in with a sand floor, rough plank benches in front of a rough plank bar. The place has rendered a certain softness though its walls, and the ceiling is literally covered with women’s underclothing that has been signed, dated, and tacked up, giving it a very homey feel. There is word that the End of the World may be coming to the end of its world. I certainly hope not, but am trying to arrange providing a good home for all the panties and bras.

The Bimini Breeze is another must stop as it is the digs of Mr. Yama Bahama. To enlighten you, Mr. Yama Bahama was born in Bimini and as an early man was flown to Miami where he trained as a boxer by some dude that trained lots of famous boxers, some you would recognize. He went on to box in New York, Chicago, some places in Europe, you get it, in the early 1900′s he was a quite successful boxer. At the time this is being written, he is 76 years old, has boxing pictures and memorabilia all over the walls, and serves Kalik Beer so ice cold that you can’t drink it fast. He is an interesting, colorful character and tells great stories about boxing and growing up in early Bimini. 

The Anchorage Restaurant is owned and operated by Miss Betty and besides serving good food and drinks; she is a very nice and colorful character, though a bit refined for the likes of Gilligan.

Hang with me; this is not an advertisement campaign or even an endorsement. I do have to mention that we ate breakfast every morning at Capt Bobs as it was right across from the marina.

A walk south along the main road past the End of the World takes you through the old Chalks Airline ramp and ticket terminal. Sad to see that that era is now past and gone forever. Don’t stop, you have to continue south to the very tip of the island, then up the West coast. A trip to the island isn’t complete till you visit the rusting remains of a little island freighter that got blown onto the rocks during a storm. You can get almost close enough to touch it without getting wet. It is just too cool. 

At the government dock you can catch the water taxi across to South Bimini where the jitney will take you to the Bimini International Airport. This is worth looking at if you are very, very, bored. It is a little one runway strip carved out of the mangrove jungle with a small parking area and a little concrete apron. The terminal building is sparse and archaic and it kind of comes as a surprise when this almost deserted airport with no control tower has a Continental Commuter land to discharge adventurous passengers and pick up those looking to escape the numbing peacefulness of the Bimini Islands.

The people of Bimini are as special as their island. They are warm, friendly, and genuinely glad that you are there. The island has lived with a boom ebb rhythm since the days the islanders settled here. The ebb of sponging gave way to the boom of rum running during prohibition to the ebb after the repeal of the liquor ban. The island boomed again during the heyday of the big game fishermen, but that too passed. There was another boom during the drug smuggling days of the seventies, but that too has mostly become history. The island seems to be in ebb now, but the Biminites are maintaining their island time stride and are content to await the next boom, whatever it may be. If you take your time and listen, you can feel the vibrations of the past, present, and future in the tropical breeze that incessantly blows across the beautiful people and island of Bimini, The Island in the Stream.

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On the 21st day of January, in the year – yea we made it this time, leaving the dock at around four, or four thirty, or five, ok, I don’t know what time it was. Lets try to recapture the magnificence and glory of the moment please! Not an easy task. Just out of sight of the dock, around the corner, we promptly ran aground in the channel. Twenty minutes of waiting in the flow of the incoming tide and we were clear and on our way.

Dark came quickly as we motored through the blackness of the night, dodging the thousands of lit and unlit buoys as I tried to learn the operation of a new chart plotter and radar controls. The fact that we cleared Egmont Key and set out into the open waters of the Gulf of Mexico fours hours later without incident was not my fault.

With the turn to the South in the open waters, the Skipper rolled out the sails and we settled in for the long night. That’s when I noticed the cold. With frost warnings facing the dirt dwellers, the night was bitter cold and there’s not much to say except that it was just one of those nights that seem to never end. My goose-bumps were actually hugging one another, trying to stay warm. After several eternities, the sky began graying in the east and eventually gave way to what turned out to be a very pleasant day.

Our little ship continued its southward voyage through the day on calm seas and when Sanibel Island was cleared abeam, we angled in, closing with the coast slowly until we entered Capri Pass and steamed up the Marco River to the Marco River Marina, deftly backing into the same slip where I parked my own ship, Snap One in several years ago. As always, the marina staff is very helpful, professional, and courteous, making it a favorite of mine. By five p.m. we were secured and ready for some well earned rest.

Morning came much too soon and in short order we were casting off the lines and on our way again. With the anticipation of another big day at sea, and needing to make good time, we charged down the Marco River and promptly ran aground at the “Y”
intersection at Capri Pass. Are we seeing a pattern emerging here?

Within twenty minutes the tide had floated us free and we were on our way again. With the light winds today, we kept the iron beast in the bilge roaring to help the sails speed us on our way to adventure. Today we rigged our trolling rod with a rather attractive greenish skirt and began trolling in anticipation of catching enough fish to feed the crew and most of the children of Somalia. I’m not sure what’s going on. I found the green skirt to be very attractive. I had the Skipper examine it and he advised that not only did he find it very attractive, but that if he was a fish, he would surely bite it. The Admiral just frowned. We drug the skirt all day and with fish jumping all around, none found the skirt as attractive as the Skipper and I.

Barely winning our race with the sun, we approached and entered the Little Shark River and lowered the anchor in the Florida Everglades. Not long after we settled in, the Skipper killed the only mosquito that was seen as night settled over the jungle river like a black shroud. The reason for the lack of mosquitoes might have something to do with the Admiral tasking me with the grilling of the chicken. This led to an eleven alarm fire that took the entire ships complement to control. The chicken turned our great though and no damage was done to the boat. Admiral says that my eyebrows should grow back within a couple of weeks.

Refreshed from a good nights sleep in the comfort and safety of the River, we hoisted the anchor and got underway with a growing excitement, knowing today we will cross the infamous Florida Bay. Of course, we ran aground in the mouth of the Little Shark River. After about ten minutes this time, the rising tide floated us free and we were on our way. The Skipper is confident that the fish will discover our skirt today. The Admiral just frowned.

It would be best to summarize the voyage across Florida Bay then jump to the approach to the Florida Keys and the seven mile bridge. Crossing Florida Bay we drug the very attractive greenish skirt to no avail. We picked up one of the seventy four million crab pots and dragged it about a quarter mile before we backed up and set it free. I was flogged once by the Admiral and three times by the Skipper. We had a jarring crash with an underwater object at full speed. The Skipper said that it was a submarine. I have no comment. Approaching the seven mile bridge, the Skipper advised that we either had the standard mast of 63 feet, or the high mast model of 67 feet. The bridge clearance is 65 feet, so the difference in masts heights is a bit more traumatic than it at first seems. In the end, we came up with the very effective scientific plan of having the ships complement duck as we reached the bridge. We ducked, the ship passed under the bridge without touching, and we emerged armed with the knowledge that our mast height is 63 feet. I wept and soiled my pants. The Admiral ordered the entire crew (me) flogged.

We arrived at the Marathon Marina at eight bells in the afternoon watch, took on fuel, and disposed of my pants. Dinner at the marina restaurant of Mahi Mahi and continuous rounds of Margaritas helped to put the day’s passage behind us. Both the Skipper and Admiral insisted that I take a shower. Next, crossing the Gulf Stream.

22 Jan 09
The intrepid crew of Elice II has made it through our first night. I’m pretty sure we are in the Bering Sea even though we just passed Boca Grande Pass about an hour ago. The winds are light and we are motor-sailing. Everyone is still speaking. Hope you are all doing as well as we are. Love and hugs all around……. Elice II

23 Jan 09
Hey everybody! We are safely tied up for the night at the Marco River Marina. Tomorrow we leave for Little Shark River on the edge of the Everglades where we will experience our first real loss of cell phone coverage so, if you wanna talk to us by phone, tonight is the last night till we get within range of Marathon the following day. Having a great time and everyone is still speaking. Hope everyone is getting along well. Hugs to all from Elice II.

24 Jan 09
We’re leaving Marco Island for Little Shark River. After a great night’s sleep, the weather is beautiful. Wish you were all here! Hope we can get another letter out tonight, but with the connections I’ve been getting at night, don’t worry if you don’t hear from us. Have met several other boats heading there today, so we will have friends and lots of help if needed. Fair Winds…Elice II

Location of the EliseII

We made it!!! We are safely anchored in Little Shark River with about 12 other boats. We had a great motor sail with perfect weather arriving at 6:00 pm. No phone coverage here but we send out all our love. We should be back in cell range tomorrow afternoon. We are all still speaking but the Skipper and Admiral have staked out some of the same territory. I should be capable arbitrating and keeping them separated. Tonight our thoughts are with you all as we settle in here in the Florida Everglades. Elice II

— No mail, apparently the Elise II is crossing the Gulf Stream towards the Bahamas—

27 Jan 09
We have arrived safely and are all still speaking. No internet connection yet, we are hopeful. If not we leave here tomorrow and travel the 8 miles to Bimini and will try again. Love and hugs from Elice II
28 Jan 09
Hello Folks! We have made it to Bimini and are at the Bimini Blue Water Marina. We had a beautiful sail up from Cat Cay, the water is beautiful beyond description. Yes, they have internet wifi here. It’s down until Batelco gets back online. The most definite answer that we got on getting it fixed is “try again later mon.” As we and more importantly they, are on island time, I don’t know when we will have real internet. We are planning on staying here about 5 more days. I hope everything is well with you all and we will keep in touch. Also for those that keep pestering us, our danged latitude is 25 43.5 and longitude is 79 16.5. We are having a great time and are still speaking at the time of this transmission. Love to all…. Elice II.

http://marinas.com/view/marina/9545
29 Jan 09
Hey LA!!! I’ve been so busy underway or so exhausted from a passage that I’ve not had much time for anything but navigation. We are going to be here in Bimini for a few days for a frontal passage so I will catch up and get you an email. It’s pretty as usual over here and water, indescribable. I think about you often. Give Sheree a big hug for me and as soon as Batelco gets internet back on the island I will send you something. Love,,, Nat

http://www.geographia.com/bahamas/bsciin01.htm
1 Feb 09
Everybody knows we’re sitting here in Bimini drinking rum and waiting for weather. Life is rough here in paradise. Well, gotta run, Skipper wants to go eat again…. Nat
3 Feb 09
News Flash! We are underway. We liked what we saw in the latest weather forecasts and left the dock at 0800. It was pretty rough outside Bimini but as soon as we crossed onto the banks at Turtle Rocks it calmed out to almost no waves. We are sailing East at 6 to 7 kts and it looks like a lake out here. The Skipper is hungry again, so I’m going to fix him up something. 5 boats are leaving behind us so we will have plenty of company if they can catch us. Hugs to all… Elice II
Editors note:
Nat’s emails are coming to me via a ham radio link which requires them to be short, and without photos. Believe me, I’ve made all the standard threats concerning lots of photos of this adventure, and will post them when I get them. He needs to be at a location that has a normal internet connection before he can include them in an email.
And last but not least, I’m jealous as hell! Nothing beats a great adventure in beautiful pristine waters-