Today we leave our homeport, Halifax Harbor in Daytona Beach, for Abaco. Our boat, Attitude Adjustment, is loaded, fueled, and ready. We have taken all week to prepare her. It has been a relaxed process, minimal stress, we are rested and ready.

Attitude is a 33-foot sportfisherman. She is a Pro-Line 3250, built in early 1997. Her direct ancestor is the Donzi 3250, a pure cruising boat with luxury appointments. Pro-Line and Donzi came into common ownership in the mid-1990s, and this boat was a cooperative effort. She was built in the Donzi factory in Sarasota, her hull and forward sections are identical to the Donzi 3250, but she has a "fishing" cockpit and a tower. She is powered by twin Mercruiser 454 EFIs, has Bravo III sterndrives, and she's capable of 40 knots (about 48 mph). Attitude is surprising fuel-efficient: at speeds of 25 to 30 knots she gets 1.1 nautical miles per gallon. The down side is that her modified deep vee bogs in heavy seas, and going into a 3-4 foot head sea drops her nmpg to about 0.7. She carries 250 gallons, so her range in "good water" is about 250 nautical miles; this can drop to below 200 in bad weather. Attitude carries a Raytheon electronics package that includes GPS, depth sounder, plotter, autopilot, radar, and Flow Scan which interfaces with the GPS, giving us real time fuel efficiency. She draws about three feet, but we can raise the drives and pick up another foot of draft. She is the ultimate "go-fast" cruising boat for the Bahama Banks.

Pro-line built only a few of these boats; the projected demand just wasn't there. But she is perfect for Bunny and I, and we love living on her. During her construction, Pro-Line allowed us to visit the factory several times. Bunny was able to select the interior fabrics and trim. Attitude's color scheme features black, gold, and buffs. Her black leatherette settee and jungle animal prints give her interior an exotic look. There are two berths, one forward and one aft athwartships. Her galley has a sink, two-burner stove, a microwave, large toaster oven, refrigerator, and several drawers and storage bins. The boat is air-conditioned, she has hot water, and there is a nice private head (bathroom) with a wonderful Vacuflush toilet and stainless steel sink. We really love this boat, even when we tie up next to a million dollar fifty footer.

Sunday morning dawns to sunshine, light winds, and a flat ocean. We throw off our lines at 7:30 and enter the ocean through Ponce Inlet at 8:45. It is almost flat calm, and we head south at 25 knots. Our destination is Walker's Cay, and dock to dock the distance is about 190 nautical miles. The northward flow of the Gulf Stream adds about 10 nm to the trip, making it 200 nm. If we run directly to Walker's and have good weather, we have enough fuel with an extra margin of 50 gallons. If the weather turns foul and we bog down, our margin would shrink rapidly, possible leaving us shy of our destination. The course would take us across 170 nm of open ocean on a route that has minimal traffic. We discussed this during our trip planning, and elected to take two days to get to Walker's rather than using the direct route. Day One will take us down the coast to Ft. Pierce, about 120 nm, Day Two will take us across the Gulf Stream to the Little Bahama Bank and on into Walker's Cay, the most northern island in the Bahamas, a distance of 110 nm.

We pass New Smyrna and Canaveral National Seashore, Kennedy Space Center, then Port Canaveral. By now it is 11:00 and the sea has glassed off. There is no wind, no motion, no sound. We shut down the motors for a few moments to savor the quiet. I stare SE and my mind drifts into "what ifs:" we are 134 nm from Walker's, I could run into Port Canaveral, pick up some fuel, and on this flat ocean probably make Walker's by 6 PM. BUT, late afternoon is when the thunderstorms come to play, we want to be in port by 3 or so, so we elect to continue on to Ft. Pierce. It may have been the wrong decision.

As the afternoon passes, we stop to play and fish, and finally tie up at Harbortown Marina in Ft. Pierce at about 3 PM. We take on fuel, settle into our slip, build a rum drink, and wander over to the pool. It's a welcome respite from the heat, but after an hour we are chased back to the boat by the first of several thunderstorms. During breaks in the squalls we walk the docks and converse with our fellow boaters. This is one of our favorite aspects of cruising. Most boaters are a friendly and cooperative lot. We are all on an adventure, we're happy, excited, and a little concerned at how vulnerable we are to the whims of the weather and the gremlins that suddenly can cause mechanic problems in our complex vehicles. Down near the end of the dock we see a family of four washing down a Luhrs 40. The husband is in the tower, two boys aged 10-12 are washing the cockpit, and Mom is directing traffic. We marvel at how well they work as a team, no tension. Later, Mom walks by Attitude carrying a giant bag of laundry. She has a large bulky dressing on her left thumb, and I have to inquire.

Barbara is the prototype fishing/cruising Wonderwoman. She is fortyish, slender, wears no makeup, her brunette hair is plastered to her head with rain and sweat, and she has a very ready smile. My guess is that after a shower and change of clothes she would be a knockout. There is a thick southern accent and the accompanying bubbly personality. Her family has just returned from Walker's where they fished and played for a week. Barbara is a pediatric trauma nurse, which implies that she has seen the absolute worst. Bunny asks about the thumb:

"Well, we were dragging lures off Grand Cay in a thousand feet and this big old yellowfin hit the center rigger. One of the boys got to it first and somehow put the reel in freespool, and the thing birdnested on us. I was trying to pull it out when the fish lunged, somehow a loop of line got caught around my thumb, next thing I know part of my thumb is missing." I ask how long ago this happened. "Oh, it's been a few days. Wanna see?"

Bunny doesn't do well with what I think we are about to see, so I warn her. She turns away as Barbara pops off her dressing. Indeed, the right lateral side of her left thumb is, well, missing, and the only good news here as I gaze at raw meat and tendon is that the wound is clean, no infection. Barbara the trauma nurse has done a good job of taking care of her wound. I ask when she's going to get it looked at. "Oh, I'll get around to it." So now I play the gentle game of nudging someone whose extensive knowledge of trauma butts heads with her personal sense of duty to her family as well as well as the "it'll be OK" mindset into going to the ER which she should have done days ago.

"You know, that's going to need a graft."

"You think?" her eyes are wide.

"If this was one of your boys......"

"OK, OK, maybe in the morning." That's as far as I'm going to get. Two hours later I'm trying to coax our grill into firing despite a steady rain; there's some noise up by the ramp that extends from the bulkhead to our dock. Barbara is trying to bring a large cart loaded with laundry and groceries down the slippery ramp while holding her bandaged thumb aloft in the driving rain. I run to the ramp and help her with the cart. She still hasn't begun to clean up, although her three men have long since showered and dressed.

"When is it time for Mom?"

She smiles, "Oh, I just have a few more things to do." Bunny offers, "How 'bout sharing a drink with us while those boys carry this stuff?"

"Oh, they're all cleaned up, I'm almost done." Off she goes to her boat, thumb in the air. We'll never see her again, and I wonder what will become of her thumb and her life, and I wonder what the Gulf Stream holds for us in the morning.

 

Dok-tor, Super beginning trip report! Wise decision on your route-taking. The 'stream is the one spot where hurrying-up will get you into trouble. Sounds like Barbara is definitely NOT on island time. Even tho I admire her sense-of-duty, she needs to learn to "stop and smell the roses". Hope you guys have a magnificent trip in your pedigree yachet. I'll be ya it handles better around the docks than the aforementioned 50 footer! Keep in touch. Ken

 

We never made it across either. We are living our adventure through all of you who are leaving journals/reports, etc. We really enjoy them and I know that most everyone else does also. Thanks for sharing your lives all of us. Knowledge is a scary thing!!! Thanks......

 

Now I'm getting really mad I never made it!

 

Sounds like the beginnings of a great advanture.

Love to see a pic of your vessel!!!

 

Glad you and Bunny made it back safely! Anxiously awaiting the next report!