Passage South. Crooked Island to Aclins

Day 1  George Town to Long Island

Day 2  Long Island to Crooked Island

 

Passages South map

Passages South map

Day 3 Crooked Island to Aclins

Tuesday, March 11

After we rest for a day in Pittstown, we lift anchor early the next morning but it takes us 3 hours to cover 2 miles in almost becalmed winds until we pass Bird Rock with its 1876 lighthouse.

Bird Rock Lighthouse

Bird Rock Lighthouse

Built from Crooked Island stone with nineteen-century mechanism and Frensel lenses, the lighthouse machinery got damaged by a lightning strike and is no longer working today. Abandoned, it is rapidly deteriorating and the recent attempt by the Bahamas Defense Force to fix it failed. There had been an idea at some point to turn the lighthouse keepers’ quarters into an ‘out-of-the-way’ refuge but it is still just an idea. As we pass very slowly only a few feet from the small island the lighthouse sits on, we have the opportunity to kind of explore it.

Bird Roch Lighthouse  close-up

Bird Roch Lighthouse
close-up

When we round the corner the winds pick up and we are back in business.

We sail all day near the north side of Crooked Island direction east-southeast, tacking many times as the wind has now turned from east, blowing at 10-15 kt, and thus we cover almost double the distance, which is 35 NM from Pittstoun Landing to Atwood Harbour. We are getting the prevailing inevitable Trade Winds, but very mild and easy to deal with. The sea is calm, slow Atlantic waves coming from port. Fata Morgana is doing about 4 kts, smooth slow sailing, no stress on the boat and crew, and at about 9:30 p.m. we enter through the breakers inside the vast remote anchorage in Atwood Harbour. The anchorage is more like quick rest-stop for cruising boats as it offers nothing but refuge from east, west, and south winds (don’t go there in north winds). There is no marina, no settlement, no nothing but a beach and mangroves around a shallow sandy bay.

The cruising guide says that entering Atwood Harbor “requires care and attention and good light. In the last few years about dozens of boats have run into trouble entering Atwood. Be warned!” For us it is one of the easiest going-through-the-breakers entries at night, no problem whatsoever. But I guess the wind and waves can make a difference. The place could turn to a monster in strong northern winds and swells. Yet, with the light easterlies we are getting, it is a pussy-cat. Good planning again!

We drop anchor, sleep like bay-bees, lift anchor the next morning, and sail some more, perfect like sailing-nerds.

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Pittstown, Crooked Island

Maya and Evo Welcome to Crooked Island

Maya and Evo
Welcome to Crooked Island

The next morning we wake up late, in paradise, and we take the day off.

Sunrise in Crooked Island

Sunrise in Crooked Island

The beach is a few feet away. Evo and Maya go spearfishing. There is so much fish around the boat, that Evo asks me what I prefer for lunch, grouper or snapper. He spears two decent-sized Nassau groupers, much more tender and safe to eat than barracuda.

Maya with a grooper

Maya with a grooper

Later, we take a walk on the beach, about a mile south to the tiny settlement of a few houses, to find internet and check the weather updates.

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Pittstown is charming with its stone walls and banana trees around perfectly trimmed loans, its fishing-boat harbor cut in the rock where young people gather at sunset to dive and swim and chat.

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Inside the library

Inside the library

 

Afternoon in the harbour

Afternoon in the harbor

 

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In just a few minutes we see more wildlife here than anywhere in the Bahamas.

Osprey

Osprey

 

Green Heron

Green Heron

American Oysercatcher

American Oysercatcher

 

Osprey with lunch, Bird Rock Lighthouse in the background.

Osprey with lunch, Bird Rock Lighthouse in the background.

Almost no one comes to Pittstown, Crooked Island, ‘the unexplored Bahamas,’ remote and unspoiled, and maybe this is the reasons why we love it so much. (Even though, sadly, they are out of ice cream for months now.)

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The girl working at the small library makes us sign the town’s guestbook.

          How long are you staying?, she asks.

         We wish we could stay a few more days but the wind is good now; we have to keep sailing. We are leaving first thing tomorrow morning, we answer.

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Passage South. Long Island to Crooked Island

Map of our Passage South

Map of our Passage South

Day 1– George Town to Long Island

Day 2

Sunday, March 9

In the afternoon, after snorkeling in Dean’s Blue Hole for a few hours, we continue sailing south along Long Island west bank for 15 NM more. We round Long Island South Point around 5 p.m. and set course for Crooked Island, some 30 NM southeast, across Crooked Island Passage.

The wind is from northeast at 10-15 kt, dropping to 2-6 kt for a few hours, and then picking up to 10-12 kt again. The seas are calm, the sailing is beautiful.

We arrive in Pittstown, on the northwest side of Crooked Island, in the middle of the night, 3:30 a.m., and drop anchor exactly where the charts indicate an anchorage. The place doesn’t really look like an anchorage, a long straight shoreline exposed to northwest, west, and southwest winds and swells, but we calculated that in the northeast to east winds we are getting, it would be calm and smooth as a lake. And it is.

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The Big Blue

Mira

Mira

Some time ago, friends told us that about 35 nautical miles south from George Town, on Long Island, there is a blue hole, check it out.

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A blue hole is a vertical cave in the interior of an island, a hollow in the rocks filled with seawater. There are many blue holes in the Bahamas, big and small, but the most famous one is Dean’s Blue Hole on Long Island because it is the world’s deepest saltwater blue hole.

Dean's Blue Hole

Dean’s Blue Hole

Free-diving competitions are held annually here and a few professional divers have found their death inside the underwater cave trying to set a new world record for the deepest dive without oxygen.

A memorial plaque near Dean's Blue Hole

A memorial plaque near Dean’s Blue Hole

There is a great Luc Besson film called The Big Blue, a fictionalized account of the rivalry between two legendary free divers, Jacques Mayol and Enzo Maiorka. It might clarify the mystery why anyone who is not suicidal would take one last deep breath and swim downward into the abyss knowing he might never resurface alive.

The rope used by the divers

The rope used by the divers

As it is on our passage south, we stop on the west shallow bank of Long Island, Turnbull Landing, to check out Dean’s Blue Hole.

After a two-mile walk up and down scenic road across the island we get to a small harbor on the east side.

Going down the road

Maya, Viktor, Evo going down the road

There, on the edge of the land, is a small round pool surrounded by rocks and sand. The contrast between its pale turquoise shallow rim and dark blue like ink interior is dramatic.

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It gets deep so suddenly, Maya can jump in deeper waters from the shore, like in a swimming pool.

Evo and Maya

Evo and Maya

A small white platform used by divers is stationed in the center, vacant. There is no one else here but the four of us.

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We go for a swim a bit scared by all the signs and commemorative death-plaques around the place, as if the blue hole would suck us down and swallow us.

Mira

Mira

But then, as we snorkel on the shallow edge of the underwater cave, a large sea turtle slowly passes by, undisturbed, takes a deep breath and heads for the hole, making a sign: follow me.

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She is flying through the dark water in cadence with such hypnotizing circular movements of her wings it looks so easy, not dangerous at all, so logical to just follow her deep inside the dark hole.

Evo going to the edge of the blue hole

Evo

But the growing pressure in the head, the lungs struggling for air, reminds us way too soon what obsolete fish humans are.

Mira

Mira

Farewell, sea turtle, say hi to all the underwater-monsters hiding in the deep.

Evo

Evo

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Passage South. George Town to Long Island

Map of our Passage South

Map of our Passage South

Day 1

Saturday, March 8

 

After carefully studding the charts, cruising guides, and weather forecasts, we begin the 260 nautical miles passage south from George Town, Bahamas to Luperon, Dominican Republic, a passage most of the thousands of sailors who cruise regularly in the Bahamas will never undertake.

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260 nautical miles may sound like a few hours of driving distance for those who never sailed. For us, getting to Dominican Republic means 3 one-day (30-40 NM) ocean passages, 4 one to two-day (25-30 NM) island passages (along the shore and in shallow bank waters), and 1 two-day (100 NM) ocean passage. It also means waiting at anchor in-between passages for a weather window (favorable winds: force and direction) for as long as it takes.

 

That is, if everything goes well. Moreover, we tend to be slower than most other sailboats, as most other sailboats ‘motor-sail’; they go on engine all the time in order to get faster to their destination (before sunset), or to avoid tacking or heeling too much (tacking is when you zigzag towards destination instead of going in straight line, because the wind is blowing from the direction you want to go). Often, they don’t even bother hoisting the sails, motoring all day, their masts remaining bare like sad winter trees even when the wind is good, behind them. For us ‘motoring’ is ‘cheating’. We strictly sail; the engines are for emergency only, which saves us a lot of cash and hustle. Last time we fueled was in Key West Florida, about four months ago, and our fuel tanks are still full to the brim. We never motored in the Bahamas, and we don’t even know what the fuel price around here is… We even go in and out of anchorages and cuts through the reefs full-sail, often at night.

 

In our Bahamas Cruising Guide the part covering south of George Town is called Far Horizons. The Unexplored Bahamas. This is how the chapter starts:

 

“The generally perceived wisdom that it is different south of George Town is true. Below latitude 23 30N, the tropic of Cancer, you are in the real tropics and in a different game. You are exposed to the Atlantic, you have legendary passages to negotiate, there are almost no all-weather anchorages, and few settlements. You shouldn’t venture into these waters in a craft that isn’t well found and well equipped. If passage making or cruising in an area like this lies outside your experience think twice about going that way.”

 

As we lift the hook from the anchorage in George Town and set sail for Long Island, a first of four island passages, suspiciously too many other boats from all the anchorages around the harbor lift their hooks as well and start sailing in the same direction. We find ourselves in the middle of a spectacular procession of about one hundred sailboats, all sailing (none motoring) southeast with us! It is beautiful.

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Our departure has coincided with the Long Island Rally. The rally is escorting us to Goat Cay for about two hours where our paths finally separate. The boats continue northeast to a waypoint from where they turn back northwest to George Town; we head south through Goat Cay Cut.

 

With the wind blowing from north at 10-15 knots, forecasted to turn from northeast the next day, we decide sailing south-southeast on the west lee side of Long Island would be best, as the island, 80 mi long north to south, will act as a shield from the Atlantic waves which tend to always come from the same direction as the wind.

 

The same cruising guide warns us about sailing on the west side of Long Island:

 

“The west coast of Long Island is a No-Go for the long-haul passage maker. (That’s us). The west coast is the Bank side, with sandbores and shoals which effectively bars that side as a cruising ground. A Bank transit path does not exist. Only local captains can safely cross the southeast corner of the Great Bahama Bank. Underline that word ‘local.’ It requires local knowledge.”

 

All we get from the previous paragraph is: ‘It’s shallow, but people do it’. Our very limited experience with cruising guides tells us that they should not always be trusted. Some of the information they provide is useful but passage making is ultimately dependent on weather conditions in relation to geography, sailing skills and experience, and boat specifics. There is no one general best way to go. Cruising guides are overprotective and I think they consider the average cruisers (for whom they are intended) to be semi-blind elderly people with no common sense aboard 7-8 feet draft vessels.

 

Many fellow-sailors we met in George Town told us not to even think of sailing south to Dominican Republic without following the exact steps described in Bruce Van Sant’s book with the suspicious sexist title The Gentleman’s Guide to Passages South. “Just read the book and do exactly what he says if you want to make it.” they told us, most of them never made the passage nor read the book. Luckily, we had The Book aboard. I think it came with the boat along with lots of other stuff left from the previous owners. Problem is, this book too had nothing to say about Long Island’s west bank, not an option according to Mr. Van Sant. He too insists on sailing on the east side of Long Island, covering more than a 130 NM from George Town to Clarence Town, three days of sailing, battling Atlantic waves and current.

 

We study the charts and the west Bank side looks shallow but doable with a distance of only 55 NM from George Town to Clarence Town (west side of the island), a real short cut. Our boat’s draft is less than four feet. We close the cruising guides which have nothing more to say about sailing on the side we chose: the west Bank of Long Island.

 

Around 10 a.m. we pass through the narrow shallow Goat Cay Cut between Great Exuma and Little Exuma at mid-tide. The starboard keel lightly touches the sand for a second once we are through the cut, but from then on we have no troubles sailing in the uncharted Bank along the west shores of Long Island. We keep away from the shoals and coral heads and always have enough water under the keels; the island stops the waves as we have expected and sailing is pleasure. We make a beautiful progress of 55 NM the first day with the wind behind us and the boat doing 6 to 8 kt. Evo catches 9 barracudas that day, I think this is a world record, and we keep the 3 smaller one to eat in the next few days. They are delicious.

 

After Stephenson Rock, we turn port; carefully approach a white-sand beach looking out for coral heads. The water surface is flat like a mirror. There is no sign of civilization. We drop anchor for the night just before sunset. Dean’s Blue Hole is right across on the other side of the island, a couple of miles north of Clarence Town. We’ll visit it the next day.

 

We sleep like babies and dream of cruising guides.

 

 

Fata Morgana anchored on the west side of Long Island, Bahamas

Fata Morgana anchored on the west side of Long Island, Bahamas

 

 

 

 

 

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Our Friends, The Forbidden Island, David Copperfield, And The Barracudas.

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When our friends came to visit us in the Bahamas for a week they surely didn’t imagine that so many crazy things can happen in just a few days. Ivan, one of our best friends ever, his 16-year-old daughter Nanny, and 18-year-old son Nikola who is also Viktor’s best friend (the mastermind behind Viktor’s Achievement List), landed in George Town and survived a week aboard Fata Morgana sailing in good weather and in bad weather complete with a 35-knot squall and huge waves, entering through a narrow cut between rocks and breakers at night with the current against the boat and both the skipper and the helmsman (Evo and Mira) panicking, discovering a magical island and its enchanted inhabitant, spearfishing in barracuda-infested waters, snorkeling with stingrays and starfishes, swimming with sharks and mermaids, kayaking in a small grotto at night where the only light is from the photoluminescence in the water, almost burning down a palm tree, feeding coconuts to a man-eating dog, and eating barracudas every day.

Evo and Ivan sailing into the sunset.

Evo and Ivan sailing into the sunset.

About 35 miles north of George Town is Rudder Cay. It is a private island with a few remote beaches and beautiful rocks with a small cave owned by the famous illusionist David Copperfield.

Rudder Cay, cave and beach

Rudder Cay, cave and beach

We were told that there are video cameras surveying the shores and a man-eating dog guarding the island’s secrets, so better don’t go ashore, you don’t want to mess with a magician and his rabid dog.

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As we get to the island, first thing’s first, we go ashore. Some of us swim, some of us pile on the kayak and we are all on the private beach in two minutes. We can’t wait to meet David Copperfield; he would be the first famous person we meet in the Bahamas.

Kayaking to the forbidden island.

Kayaking to the forbidden island.

We roam the island, collect coconuts, and explore the cave, but no sign of the magician.

inside the cave

inside the cave

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Mira

Mira

 

Then suddenly, as we are peacefully chopping coconuts on the beach, a dark hungry creature emerges from of the bush. Is it David Copperfield? Is it Robinson Crusoe? Is it Tom Hanks? Is it the man-eating dog? We are seven people. Three say it’s a dog, four say it’s David Copperfield. Finally we agree it is the illusionist who, after a magic-trick-gone-wrong, turned himself into a dog.

Evo getting some coconuts.

Evo getting some coconuts.

Evo opening coconuts

Evo opening coconuts

 

A dog shows up.

David Copperfield

Poor David Copperfield, his fur matted and smelly, his nails overgrown, marooned on his island with no company, no food, and no freshwater.

David Copperfield is our friend

David Copperfield is our friend

He avidly eats about four coconuts, and from then on becomes our good island-friend and guide. We call him David for short.

David eating coconuts

David eating coconuts

The next day, while Ivan and Evo go spearfishing in the reefs, the kids, David, and I go to the other side of the island where we discover another secret beach. We bring leftover chicken bones and give them one by one to David. We have lots of fun. Everyone is happy.

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Maya making weapons, just in case, before the private island exploration

Maya making weapons, just in case, before the private island exploration

 

Viktor and Nick

Viktor and Nick

Viktor, Maya, Mira

Viktor, Maya, Mira

 

same people, in the air

same people, in the air

 

Back on the boat, we organize a jumping competition.

Viktor, Maya, Nick

Viktor, Maya, Nick

Same people, in the air

Same people, in the air

 

Evo doing a halo

Evo doing a halo

Vick and Nick

Vick and Nick

 

Nick and Maya

Nick and Maya

In the evening, we go back to shore with a huge bone we promised David and we make a huge bonfire on the beach with driftwood and dry palm leafs. 

Fire on the beach

Fire on the beach

Nanny and David

Nanny and David

 

Around the fire

Around the fire

Evo, the pyromaniac, is having lots of fun that evening.

Evo burning down the house

Evo burning down the house

no explanation...

no explanation…

 

The next day, we discover another of this enchanted place’ secrets: a mermaid playing a grand piano underwater.

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The life-size sculpture commissioned by Copperfield made of stainless steel is submerged in about ten feet of water, and the trick is to find where exactly it is.

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Nick

Nick

 

Mira

Mira

Best time to see it is at low tide, when the current is not too strong.

Ivan (!?)

Ivan (!?)

We are all sad leaving the island after a couple of days, especially leaving David behind, alone again. Nanny really wants to adopt him.

Please, if anyone ever goes there, bring some food and freshwater to the dog who is not dangerous and is completely abandoned. He survives on spiders and lizards, and drinks seawater… We all thought abandoning a dog alone on an island (to guard the private property from trespassers) is an example of animal cruelty, and whether David Copperfield or someone else is responsible for this, it is not an honorable thing to do.

Next, we spend a few more days sailing from one island to another, spearfishing, snorkeling, exploring, swimming, jumping, and kayaking some more. Everyone has a blast. We even eat the barracudas Ivan catches all the time. People say you can get ciguatera poisoning from barracudas: a bacteria found in big predators who eat smaller fishes who eat corral, but Ivan has come to the Bahamas to fish and eat fish, and nothing could stop him from eating barracudas! Still, we take precautions: we only keep the smaller barracudas which are safer than the bigger ones and we let our guest taste a little piece of the fish first. Then we wait about an hour to see if something unusual will happen to our friend. If he is still alive after an hour, means the barracuda is safe to eat, and we stuff ourselves with the white tender filets. It is one of the best tasting fish we ever had, and is the easiest fish to catch. Yum!

Nick with grunt

Nick with grunt

Nanny with starfish

Nanny with starfish

 

Assorted fishes

Assorted fishes

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Vick and Nick

Vick and Nick

Ivan and Evo with barracuda

Ivan and Evo with barracuda

 

Thus, a week passes way too fast, and when our friends leave it is hard to get used to the boat without them… We surely miss them.

Evo and Ivan

Evo and Ivan

Nick

Nick

 

Nanny

Nanny

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George Town Regatta

George Town is a mad place especially in winter and especially during regatta week.

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Of course, with our luck, this is exactly the time we show up. We approach the town at night and we take the hundreds of lights in the distance for city lights. Must be a big city, we think. But it turns out these are the anchor lights on top of the masts of hundreds of sailboats anchored in the vast shallow harbor across from George Town.

The town itself is much like any other town in the Bahamas: tranquil in the perpetual tropical heat, small buildings strewn along the one-way street, a car passing now and then, people sitting in the shade near the small shops and restaurants greeting good morning how are you are you enjoying your stay. Except for the huge permanent cruising community, there is nothing special about George Town. The cruising community is in fact at least three times more numerous than the local population and the entire economy of the place thrives because of the cruisers even though they remain separated from the locals and from Georgetown spending their time on Volleyball Beach and Hamburger Beach socializing between each other, and only dinghy to town now and then to do some grocery shopping, fill their propane bottles, and most importantly: do their washing in the huge public laundry.

Dinghies on Volleyball Beach

Dinghies on Volleyball Beach

 

Hundreds of sailboats, many Canadian, spend the winter months in Georgetown escaping the cold in the North, enjoying organized activities like yoga on the beach, volleyball games, domino and scrabble games, arts and crafts classes, poker tournaments, children’s activities, seminars, and many more. And during regatta week, the last week of February each year, the boats are even more numerous, somewhere between three and four hundred.

We remain anchored on the opposite side of the channel in front of Peace and Plenty hotel, alone, away from all other boats, near the town, avoiding the crowded anchorage and the cruising community. Huge beach crowds and participating in organized activities (like playing dominos with Canadian folks) is not something we enjoy in particular.

Fata Morgana anchored in front of Peace$Plenty hotel, George Town

Fata Morgana anchored in front of Peace$Plenty hotel, George Town

 

Yet, we meet some great people and make a few new friends here in Georgetown: Shane, Mary and their three-years-old son Franklin aboard s/v Sea Change, Jan and Susanne aboard s/v Peter Pan, a metal boat they built all by themselves back in Germany and sailed across the Atlantic, Jason aboard s/v Argo and his friend and crew Arno, an expert fisherman, both young guys in their twenties, and finally Tom aboard s/v Triad and his friend and crew Jim.

Tom needed extra crew for his trimaran Triad for the regatta and we thought it would be a great experience participating in the race, so we contacted him on the cruisers net. But there were a bunch of other sailors with a lot more sailing and racing experience than us who also showed up and we didn’t get to crew on Triad for the first two days of the races, broke my heart.  

Triad in the middle

Triad in the middle

 

We watch from our lonely anchorage as Triad and at least thirty other boats spread their sails and the harbor suddenly becomes a blue field populated by white butterflies rushing in all direction. A sort of a sailing chaos, the most beautiful sight: sailboats of all sizes and makes flying in the wind, one coming close to another, a sharp tack, sails flap for a moment then tighten and fill with wind again, the sound of the hulls swooshing through the sea, the monohulls heeling at a great angle, the catamarans steady, Triad with one leg in the air, going at an incredible speed. Go Triad, go!

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Triad won first place in both races.

After each race there were celebrations, free food, dancing, and for an entire week many other activities take place too: a coconut race, small boat races, volleyball tournament, arts and crafts exhibition, a talent show and many more.

On the third day of the regatta Ivo and I were supposed to finally crew on Triad, but the race got canceled as the wind was expected to drop. However, Tom invites us to go sailing anyway, just for fun, and thus we got to go on an around-the-island sail on Triad, the fastest boat in Georgetown, and it was amazing.

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We are about ten people on board, crew and passengers, the weather sunny and nice, the wind about ten knots from south-southwest, the waves on the Exuma Sound side calm, just perfect.

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Triad flying as fast as the wind, skimming the water surface with such lightness it feels as if we will lift off any minute. When the wind pushes from port, her port hull lifts in the air completely and when she tacks she lifts the starboard one, the same way you would jump across a puddle from one foot to the other, your legs wide spread.

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Tom is great too.

Tome with ropes

Tome with ropes

He knows exactly what he is doing, as he has done it a thousand times. Or more. He is concentrated on the sails and the ropes but relaxed and at ease. Sometimes too relaxed. When we return in the anchorage, Tom on the helm, Triad is flying with about 6 knots directly towards an anchored boat. Tom is fixing something on the autopilot and doesn’t look where the boat is going for what seems the longest time. But then exactly when I am thinking it is already too late, we will crash, he pops up and with a swift move pulls the tiller and Triad turns just enough to pass inches from the anchored boat. Then Tom is down again continuing his work on the autopilot, Triad heading towards another boat…

Tom and Evo

Tom and Evo

 

After a perfect around-the-island four-hour sail, Triad the Champion is back in Georgetown. We drop anchor and bring down the sails. Just then a mother dolphin with two babies shows up in the anchorage peacefully swimming between the boats and before we know it, Tom is in the water with them. Jim and Ivo join immediately. They swim with the dolphins for about half an hour. Ivo takes his underwater camera and films them and I take pictures from the boat. A perfect finale for a perfect day at sea.

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More pictures from George Town regatta

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More pictures sailing-around-the-island on Triad

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Triad’s sexy crews

(These are portraits I took for my on-going photo project The Sexy Skipper, which features sailor at their sexiest. We have seen enough sexy bikini-girls on boats in magazines and commercials. Time to pleasure our vision with some sexy guys in speedos !)

Captain Tom Cox, s/v Triad

Captain Tom Cox, s/v Triad

Jason Bashaw, s/v Argo

Jason Bashaw, s/v Argo

 

Jim Flint, s/v Triad

Jim Flint, s/v Triad

 

Evo, s/v Fata Morgana

Evo, s/v Fata Morgana

More pictures Swimming with Dolphins

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Tom with dolphins

Tom with dolphins

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Jim with dolphins

Jim with dolphins

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Evo with dolphins

Evo with dolphins

 

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