We arrived in San Salvador in the Bahamas on Wednesday,
March 13. We had enjoyed a nice overnight sail from Mayaguana, which lies south
and east. It quickly became clear that the exposed anchorage was going to be very rough, so we moved into the Rolling Rock Marina, our first one since Africa. We spent Thursday doing laundry and
generally cleaning the boat to prepare for our next guests.
On Friday the 14th, the boys and I walked 15 minutes
down the road to the San Salvador international airport to greet my brother and
sister-in-law. The boys were super excited to see Uncle Kevin and Auntie B, and
not just because they came with treats and gifts. Three minutes outside of the
airport, we were offered a ride and jumped into the back of a Ford pickup.
The Rabbit explaining all kinds of details to Auntie B
The wind had shifted around to the west and the waves that had made the anchorage rough were now coming into the man-made harbor. Sila moved constantly, bucking back and forth on the spring lines, much more than normal for a marina. We worried that it would be an uncomfortable first night for Kevin and Bec, carefully checked and adjusted our dock lines and fenders, but otherwise thought nothing of it.
Saturday morning found us getting ready to sail to
Conception Island, an island that promised to have some lovely walks and good snorkeling.
The sail cover was stowed, sunscreen applied, the engine checked, and
everything was in its place. And then the engine had sort of a rough start followed
by a horrible rattling sound. We stopped it instantly. And then it would not
start.
Christopher then discovered what looked like sea water in the oil. What moments before had been beautiful clean, black oil, was now milky and overflowing. This was bad. We then spent all of Saturday trying to find the cause of the problem, getting the sea water out of the oil (multiple oil changes), attempting to locate a diesel mechanic on San Salvador on a Saturday (not happening), and going nowhere. On Sunday, we found a local mechanic who confirmed Christopher's assertion that the engine was seized. That is, we got sea water in the cylinders and then bent a connecting rod.
Kevin and Bec walk on the beach while the boys swim and while we all wait...
Then it was decision time. We considered a variety of ways to stay on San Salvador and get the engine repaired there, but ultimately decided to sail for Florida. We were sad to say goodbye to Bec who opted to stay on San Salvador and fly home on schedule rather than up to a week later.
In some ways, the most challenging part was during the first
ten minutes. A couple of kind local Bahamians helped to push Sila off the dock
as I pulled out the Genoa. With Christopher at the helm, Kevin sheeted in the
headsail and I hoisted the main as fast as I could. As we were headed across
the wind to get out of the harbor, raising the mainsail was no easy feat. We
needed to sail on a beam reach through a narrow channel that was about 200
meters long. And we needed to get the boat moving forward quickly so we would
not be pushed onto the rocks on the north side of the channel. Once we cleared
the channel, we would have open water. With the main about two-thirds of the
way up, I heard Christopher encouraging me to crank faster. Just then, I noticed
out of the corner of my eye that we were just a few feet away from the rocks at
the edge of the channel. A couple of hard cranks and a few moments later and we
were clear. This was our first collective sigh of relief.
Sailing
350 miles offshore, through shipping channels and what seemed like a
cruise ship superhighway, and across the Gulf Stream without
an engine is somewhat akin to skiing in the Colorado backcountry without
a
transceiver. That is, I like to think that I choose my ski runs such
that I don't
need the transceiver but it is nice to have...
I
also like to believe that we sail such that we don’t really
need the engine. But actually sailing without an engine is very
different. A lee shore is the downwind coast. If you furled the sails,
it is where the wind
and waves would naturally push the boat. While we try to avoid getting
close to
a lee shore all the time, we always know in the back of our minds that
we have
the engine to help bail us out of trouble. This time, we did not have
that
safety net and it absolutely changed both the way we sailed the boat
(more
conservatively and farther offshore) and the way I felt about it (more
vigilant
and a little more anxious).
The
other safety net that the engine provides is power
generation. Whenever we run the engine, the alternator charges the
batteries. There
are many systems on the boat that are dependent on our bank of
batteries. We
use an iPad and GPS for navigation. Radar and our AIS (Automatic
Identification
System) both use power. To run the propane stove, we need power to turn
on the
solenoid switch. We also use the batteries for lights, both onboard and
navigational lights so big ships can see us at night, and then for
charging the
iPods that supply our music for dance parties. While we have a wind
steering
device, which we call the wizard because we are amazed by how well it
works, we also have an autopilot that uses power to steer the boat to a
given course. We
have solar panels and a wind generator that charge the all-important
batteries.
But when sailing downwind, the apparent wind is low so we become
dependent on
the solar panels, which only work when the sun shines!
So now in addition to sailing more conservatively than
normal, we were also in power conservation mode. We had light wind for most of
the trip, so the wizard (wind pilot) was not very effective. Because of the
drain on the batteries, we chose to minimize the use of the auto pilot. This really just meant
that we needed to steer the boat by hand. I love being at the helm and steering
but it is difficult to do 24 hours a day while taking care of the rest of the
business of the boat, like feeding everyone, keeping track of and staying away
from big boats, navigating, sleeping etc.
The asymmetrical sail was mighty helpful during our day of very light wind. It allowed us to go over 3 knots when there was less than 6 knots of wind.
Uncle Kevin helps Porter to steer a straight compass course. When you curve all around, he calls it cheese doodles. Instead, you want to aim to be straight as a pretzel stick,. Porter was pretty good at avoiding the cheese doodles
This photo of the radar screen may not look like much, but his was taken at night when there were at least 12 boats in sight, 8 of them show up on radar.
Five days after leaving San Salvador, we sailed right into Port Everglades harbor (Fort Lauderdale) under our own sail power. We followed a 200 meter long container ship into the port and were passed by several large motor yachts (at least one of which inspired some cursing as he cut us off and left us in his wake despite a request on the radio from us for a bit of deference), numerous fishing boats, and more little motor boats than I could count. Once inside the harbor, in the shadows of no less than five huge cruise ships, we hooked up to a tiny tug boat. This was our second sigh of relief. The tug then pulled us south down the ICW (Inter Coastal Waterway) to the Royale Palms Marina where we are now safely tied up. As you might imagine, tying up to the dock inspired the third and final sigh of relief.
The yacht in the background of this picture is not the one that cut us off!
Entering Port Everglades
Steel Towing backing up to meet us as we sailed into the harbor
Sila under tow as Christopher and I furl the main
Being towed down one of the small channels off the ICW, filled with marinas and other boats
They say that good judgment comes from experience, and
experience comes from bad judgment. We do not yet know the definitive cause of the sea
water in the engine so I am not yet prepared to own the mistake; however, I feel
both relieved and proud that we had another successful, even smooth, offshore
passage in the face of some very different but decidedly non-trivial challenges. - Molly
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