2 February 2024 – Bahamian Blues
We have an appointment in the Bahamas and little time to get there. Will we overcome the Bahamian Blues and still enjoy this unique country?
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Sint Maarten (NLD) – Nassau (BHA)
“The new sails have arrived!” Floris announces joyfully upon reading his e-mails. It’s the message we have been eagerly awaiting for weeks. We immediately paddle over to our friends Pleuni and Jouke on SV Olim and borrow their hand trolley. From the dinghy dock in Philipsburg, we make our way past the cruise terminals to the industrial part of town. At the shipping agent, we load our new gennaker and mainsail onto the trolley and head back, along with hordes of tourists from the cruise ships. Pleuni and Jouke help us get the sails back on board, where we hoist them with great excitement. They fit perfectly!
Now that we have replaced our damaged sails, we can finally set sail towards the United States. However, to enter that country by sailboat, we need a special visa. Months ago, we submitted very detailed application forms, after which we set an appointment for an interview at the American embassy in Nassau, the capital of the Bahamas. The date has been circled in red in our calendar ever since, constantly reminding us to keep on moving. As sailors we are used to letting the weather decide our schedule and route, not some interview date in a far away country. It has given us the jitters, a feeling we’ve dubbed the Bahamian Blues. Yet we know that there really is no way around it. Without visa, our plan to sail home via the US and then the northern “Viking Route” becomes impossible. Will we make it in time?
Sailing Westward
With quite some miles between Sint Maarten and Nassau and not much time, we will have to make choices where to stop along the way. Having waited a long time for our sails, we seize the first opportunity to shorten the distance and leave Philipsburg. We wave goodbye to Pleuni and Jouke and head west. As soon as we leave the shelter of the bay, the trade winds propel us forward at high speed. All day and night the conditions are perfect. They are expected to stay that way, so we skip the British Virgin Islands and keep on going. We also sail past the U.S. Virgin Islands and Puerto Rico. As they are territories of the United States, and we don’t have our U.S. visa yet, we cannot stop there anyway. Instead, we head to the Dominican Republic.
“It’s not even a detour,” Floris remarks with a smile. Ivar reminds him of our deadline. “You may be right, but it does mean that we have to rush through the Bahamas.” “I refuse to let the Bahamian Blues keep us from what promises to be a stunning country,” Floris responds. He is eager to see a different kind of landscape after so many small Caribbean islands. The Dominican Republic, by comparison, is huge, with mountains, rivers, and a historic capital waiting to be explored.
A Different Kind of Caribbean
We make landfall in Samaná, where we get a berth in the marina. Thanks to the friendly personnel, the beautiful setting, and two swimming pools we quickly vote it one of the nicest marinas we’ve ever stayed at. The temptation is big to hang around the pool and drink cocktails there all day, but that’s not why we’re here. Rather than try to explore the vast country by sailboat, we leave Luci in the marina and rent a car.
Over the course of five days we drive through the green countryside, hike through hilly terrain, admire waterfalls, and go on a spectacular river rafting adventure. In the capital Santo Domingo, we learn more about the country’s pre-Colombian inhabitants in the Museo del Hombre Dominicano. We admire some of the artefacts that have been found from that period. When Columbus landed on the island in 1492 he claimed it for Spain and called it ‘La Isla de Española’. Sadly, the original inhabitants did not survive colonization: they became completely extinct due to diseases, violence, and slavery. Today, hardly any traces of their culture remain. The city’s historic centre is dominated by churches and other buildings in Spanish colonial style.
Stuck, in Good Company
When we’re ready to move on, the trade winds are still blowing. Almost effortlessly, we reach the southernmost island of the Bahamas, Great Inagua. The first night we anchor off the island’s only town, Matthew Town. The next morning, we decide to tie up to the wooden jetty of the local harbour. A strong northerly wind is forecast, turning the anchorage into a lee shore.
We are not the only ones seeking shelter here, and soon we meet our neighbours. We exchange plans for the US with a friendly German couple and meet a Danish family preparing for a trip to Cuba. Their 13-year-old son steals Ivar’s heart when he asks if he can buy Luci in 30 years. “It’s my dream boat,” he beams. Steve, an English solo sailor sailing on SV Neruni, used to be in the army. He lost both legs while looking for a landmine. “I found it,” he jokes. We are overwhelmed by his optimism, humour, and skills. “Solo sailing is an achievement in itself, but to do it without legs or prosthetics is a whole other level. We can never complain about anything again!” Floris comments.
While we wait for better weather, we hike to the town’s dilapidated lighthouse and climb it. From the top, we get an impression of the island’s vast flatlands but most striking is the water colour. The blue of the Bahamian water is bright and mesmerizing. We also go on a tour of the salt flats, where salt is being produced. Perhaps even interestingly, hundreds of flamingos gather there. Their slender pink bodies and reflection in the shallow salt pools make for magnificent sights.
The wind arrives as forecast and causes Luci to list in the howling wind gusts, even at the dock. “We’re leaving the tropics, so we are under the influence of depressions north of us,” Ivar sighs. He checks the weather forecast once again and sees that strong winds will continue for a full week. He is slowly becoming concerned about our tight schedule. The Bahamian Blues is acting up again.
Thanks to our excursions, our never-ending workload of editing videos and writing articles, and evenings spent with our new sailing community, a week flies by. When the wind is favourable again and everyone goes their own way, we find it difficult to say goodbye to our new friends. At the same time, we’re happy to get a chance to move closer to Nassau.
Blue, Bluer, Bluest
We set course for the Exumas archipelago. It’s a chain of islands that runs from southeast to northwest, with immeasurably deep water on one side and a gigantic but shallow lagoon on the other. We prefer to navigate the latter, so we can sail in the shelter of the islands and reefs. However, to get to that side, we still must go through a narrow passage. Our pilot book warns of dangerous situations, in particular when the wind and the current are from opposing directions. Fortunately, we are there around high tide, and it is calm. Once in the lagoon, we immediately notice the colour of the sea. The combination of crystal clear and shallow water with the white sandy bottom creates an intense light blue colour that we’ve never experienced before. “It’s even bluer then at Great Inagua,” Ivar comments. “It gives the Bahamas Blues a whole different meaning!”
The shallow water may provide for stunning colours, but it also worries Ivar. A look at the digital charts reveals that in many places the depth is below 2 metres, meaning Luci would get stuck. In addition, there are countless coral heads. “It looks like a minefield!” Ivar laments. Did we make the right choice to choose this route, he wonders.
Swimming Pigs
Fortunately, we also spot dotted lines on the charts. They indicate routes where the water is at least 2.5 metres deep and free of coral heads. “We’ll follow those!” Ivar decides.
As we sail northwards towards Nassau, we regularly have only 50 cm of water below the keel. We can see our own shadows on the sand below us. It is quite nerve-wrecking to sail with such little water under the keel, but the dotted lines do not disappoint. They guide us safely from one anchoring spot to the next. Indeed, the lines and the weather determine our route and progress. We take every opportunity to sail as far north as possible until we need an anchorage to seek shelter again. The weather is still very variable, so we frequently spend a few days in one spot before we can move on again.
Our tactic of island hopping allows us to visit some highlights of the Bahamas. We get up close with rare iguanas, snorkel above an airplane wreck, and swim in a cave that featured in the James Bond movie Thunderball. Yet the most unusual attraction is undoubtedly the bay with swimming pigs. According to legend, a ship with pigs on board once sank here. The animals swam to shore and have been living on the beach ever since. Thanks to locals and tourists who bring them food, they manage to survive. When we paddle towards their beach, two curious pigs stroll over to our kayak. As we get into the water with pieces of apple, so do they, demonstrating their excellent swimming skills. The beautiful animals also appear to be very friendly. “Isn’t it a shame that pigs are so often mistreated in industrials farming,” Floris sighs.
Cruise Capital
The touristy ventures subdued our Bahamas Blues temporarily, but it flares back up as soon as we check the weather again. Our interview in Nassau is in one week but Ivar commands that it’s time to get going. “Tomorrow is the one suitable day before the weather turns again,” he points out. As a result, we skip all other Bahamian highlights and head straight to the capital, where we find a sheltered anchorage near historic Fort Montague. “We made it!” Floris rejoices. We are relieved that we managed to get to the location of the interview ahead of the date we set months ago. The rush, the constant need to keep on moving, making use of each possible weather window, the feeling of having no flexibility and always being behind schedule – the Bahamian Blues – is finally gone!
It’s a long paddle to shore but we don’t mind. We’re happy that we can avoid Nassau’s expensive marinas. As we walk through the city centre, we notice the scale of the tourism industry here. Everything is geared towards the thousands of daily visitors that come here for their holidays. Up to six gigantic cruise ships are moored in town at the same time, each pouring hordes of tourists over the city. As if that wasn’t enough, there are also countless resorts. The resulting hustle and bustle is perhaps Nassau’s most interesting feature of Nassau.
Coffee?
Of course, we are here for another reason. When the date of our interview comes, Ivar wonders how the process will unfold. “I hope the serve fresh coffee,” he muses. We report to the American Embassy at the set time and go through two thorough security checks. We then enter a large room with masses of people queued in a long line. It looks like a busy check-in at an airport. Ivar’s hope for coffee fades. The visa interviews take place at two counters, which completely lack privacy. We can clearly hear the questions and answers of those interviewed before us. Many of them are rejected for undisclosed reason. What does that mean for us?
After more than an hour of waiting, it’s finally our turn. Fortunately, we only get a few simple questions about our sailing plans and prior arrests – we have none. “Your visas will be granted,” our interviewer then promises. “We will send it to a local DHL office in about a week,” she explains. We leave the embassy a bit flabbergasted. Is this what we’ve been stressing about these past months? Yet the feeling of relief and joy dominate. We can set sail to the US!
Practicing Patience
While we count the days, we work on our blogs and vlogs. Ivar checks the weather forecast on a daily basis. “The conditions are favourable today and tomorrow,” he assess, “but then there are strong northerly winds for a week. I really would like to leave now!” This time Ivar gets his way. That same afternoon we receive the redeeming news from the Americans; the passports are ready. As the pick-up point is about to close, we paddle full throttle to the beach and run to the DHL office. We make it just in time. While we are still panting, a young lady retrieves our passports, with visa. We’re so happy, we could hug her.
Back on board we immediately raise the anchor. Night is falling and the weather window to reach Florida has become quite tight. Still, we’ve decided to go for it. As we leave Nassau, so do several cruise ships. They, too, set course to the northwest and accompany us all night. “We’ll always remember the Bahamas for the Bahamian Blues,” Ivar laughs. “Don’t diminish the many highlights we saw!” Floris protest. “And the many shades of blue of its waters, the other Bahamian Blues.” We agree, it certainly was a unique country!
