Sunday, July 15
For the first time on this cruise we sleep in; we don't set an alarm, and it isn't until almost 9 AM that I make my way to Attitude's soggy helm. The sky is a uniform gray, and there is heavy rain. Today we are to relocate to Seaspray Marina on Elbow Cay, 20 nm to the ESE. It was to have been a casual playday; we will pass Guana, Man-O-War, Marsh Harbour, and Hopetown, and we had just planned to pursue whatever struck our fancy on the way to Seaspray. Unfortunately, it looks like a rainout.
At breakfast we are subdued. Frankly we are discouraged, demoralized; we have been fighting adverse weather since the second day of the cruise, and it's wearing us down. We are also physically exhausted, and we agree to just punch our way to Seaspray, tie up, and spend the afternoon napping or reading. This is not all bad; on previous trips we have taken a day mid-cruise to recuperate, so this action has precedence.
We walk up to Gary's condo to say 'goodbye.' He and AW are concerned that their flights may be delayed or cancelled due to the weather. They are scurrying about, packing, talking with the airlines on the telephone, calling cabs, etc. We shake hands and exchange hugs, and finally separate with a promise to rally in October at CFBM II. Bunny and I settle our bill at the marina office, pick up a load of laundry, and prepare Attitude to run.
Lines are off at 11:30, and a few moments later we are running ESE at 22 knots through steady rain and a moderate chop. A few boats are on the water this morning; we watch diligently for them, and our radar helps as well. We round Point Set Rock as the rain briefly eases and turn SE; soon we are passing White Sound Mark and are entering its channel. I hail Seaspray on the VHF and a familiar voice quickly responds: it's Junior, the Dockmaster, our best friend in Abaco. Junior directs us into a slip diagonally across from the marina office and the fish cleaning table, takes our lines, quickly laments that the power is off, then we all hurry to shelter as the next squall line bears down.
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Attitude can make her own power; she carries a 6.5 kilowatt Onan generator that actually supplies more electricity than dockside 50 amp shore power. While Attitude has "all the comforts of home," each "comfort" has limitations. For example, she has a 40-gallon freshwater tank that supplies water for ice, cooking, the toilet, washing dishes and kitchen paraphernalia, and limited bathing. Typically I have to refill the tank about every 36 hours. We have a small hot water heater, 6 gallons; we turn it up very hot so we only have to use small amounts. If we heat water in the morning, it stays hot all day, so we can still take a warm shower after diving or swimming at 5 in the afternoon. The holding tank (it "holds" what we flush) is 12 gallons, so periodically we have to dump it; by US law this can only be done offshore. Thus it pays to use marina facilities when we are in port.
Attitude's electrical system is a little complicated. There are actually two systems: the first is 12-volt, like you have in your car, and the second is 110-volt, like you have at home. The 12-volt system is powered by 4 large 6D lead acid batteries, and provides electricity for cabin lights and the refrigerator, the boat's electronics and navigation lights, and for starting the engines. In port we get 110-volt power from a utility station at dockside; a large yellow cord brings a maximum of 50 amps into the boat. When we are at home we rarely think about the amount of electricity we use for various tasks. On a boat with 50-amp 110-volt electric, it's necessary to be very aware of how much power is being used. Amperes, or "amps," is the currency of electricity. Each electrical device requires a certain amount of amps; for example, the air conditioner needs 12 amps when it cycles, the water heater needs 12, the microwave needs 10, the stove needs 10-15, a hair dryer needs 10, etc. If you were to turn all these on at once, the power consumption would exceed 50 amps, and either the breaker at the utility station on the dock or one of the boat's main breakers would trip, cutting off all 110-volt power to the boat. Fortunately, there are gauges on Attitude's electrical panel, so it's possible to tell how much power we are currently drawing, as well as how much each device uses. When Bunny cooks, she turns off the hot water heater and anything else that is eating more than an amp or so, then turns on each cooking appliance as needed. She may have to turn the stove off for a moment while she runs the microwave; you have to consider these issues when you cook with relatively limited electricity.
Attitude's generator can actually produce 60 amps, but there are two down sides to its use. First it is noisy, really noisy. Second, we are not able to use the generator while we are running at more than about ten knots. The generator is cooled by "raw" seawater that is brought in through a brass port on her underside. Attitude has a "performance hull," and as we accelerate and bring her up on a running plane, about half her length comes up out of the water. As she runs enough turbulence forms under her hull such that a substantial amount of air is drawn into the generator's raw water intake. This causes the generator to overheat, and it shuts itself down. This we can only run the generator when we are moving at slow speeds. Because of the intense summer heat, we usually throttle back a mile or so from our destination, turn on the generator and air conditioner, and take a few moments to unwind before we tie up. Once we get squared away at the dock and connect to shore power, we are able to turn off the generator and go below where it is nice and cool.
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After we tie up at Seaspray, we leave the generator running, thus assuring we'll have power for whatever we need until the electricity at the marina has been restored. We can see the BEC crew working on a utility box at the foot of the dock, and at one point one of them approaches us and asks to borrow some WD40. We carry heavy duty Corrosion Block that he is delighted to see; he takes it and hustles back to his crew. During a break in the rain we walk over to the office and full out registration paperwork while we catch up on the latest news with our pal Junior. In the past year owner Monty Albury's illness and the loss of two other key staff members have placed a heavy load on Junior's broad shoulders. During the next week we see Junior all day every day, often well into the night, attending to his duties. Junior is the man to see if you want something such as a dinner reservation, if you are having trouble with your boat, or you need advice about potential spots to visit or explore. We spend an hour with our friend on this nasty Sunday afternoon; unfortunately, it is really the only time we have to chat with him. But we do learn that he has just built and moved into a new home, so when we return to the boat we decide to get Junior a housewarming present. But we're perplexed: what should we get him?
The rain continues, and we settle into my bunk to watch movies. The power comes back on at about 5, so we switch over to dockside power and kill the generator. We have dinner reservations at 8 at the Abaco Inn; their van is to pick us up at 7:15. We take our time showering and dressing, and I do a little wound care. As luck would have it the rain relents just as the van pulls up to take us to dinner. At the Inn we bump into another old friend, Patty Pinder, who has previously worked as Resort Manager at Seaspray. At the bar we sit with her and her friend Adam, he now runs the rental boat concession at Seaspray, and ask about a present for Junior. Patty becomes very animated: she tells us that Junior loves flowering plants, and that we should try Pinewood Nursery in Marsh Harbour. It may be possible to call them and have a plant delivered to the dock at Seaspray. We put this on the list for tomorrow or Tuesday. As the hostess leads us to our table, I happen to notice a gorgeous orange sunset to our west. Hmmm, haven't seen that in a few days.
Dinner at the Abaco Inn is exceptional. The waitress suggests filet minion with sautéed shrimp, and it is fabulous. We don't often order beef when we're down island, but the waitress had been very enthusiastic, and we are thrilled. The ambience at the Inn is so pleasant, there's a soft breeze coming off the ocean, the air is fresh and dry, a few stars are out... WHAT?! Stars, how can there be stars? And an easterly; and dry air?? I anxiously walk out onto the pool deck, something has definitely changed. Clear skies and dry air from the east, could that mean that the trough that has whipped us for eight days has finally dissipated?
No pictures today, the weather was too nasty!
