Squall in the Night

Yesterday (Tuesday, March 14), dozens more boat arrived in the anchorage to the west of Sand Dollar Beach, seeing shelter from the predicted high winds. We watched them circling around trying to find places close to shore to anchor; by the end of the day, at least a hundred boats were in the area, from shore to the channel. 

We were busy on a variety of tasks. Peter worked on taxes and ordering parts and spent time in the engine room. (What happens in the engine room stays in the engine room--because I am clueless about the jobs he accomplishes there.) After breakfast, I started my work by peeling off the inch wide white glossy tape that I had applied a couple of years ago to protect the seals along the caulking lines between the glass windows of the pilot house and the fiberglass. At the corners, the tape had started to lift and trap water, creating a habitat for green and black microorganisms. Some of the gummy but hard adhesive from the tape remained stuck to the the surfaces, as did the green and black gunk. Various products including Oxiclean and acetone (not together!) failed to make an impact in removing it. Peter noticed that a place where the tape had been missing for at least a year was perfectly clean of gummy residue, so we decided to let the sun and rain work on the mess for a while before making further attempts to eliminate it.

I was not pleased to leave a spotless surface, but I moved on to my next job, cleaning out seven jerry cans which had been last filled with salt water to create ballast for getting under the bridge at Jensen Beach. Jerry cans are color-coded. There was one blue one (potable water), one orange (gasoline) and six yellow (diesel fuel) that needed to be cleaned to remove all remnants of the salt water. We have never used the jerry cans; on this boat, they are intended for ocean crossings, which we have not yet done. Working on the swim platform, I used Oxiclean and dishwashing soap with fresh water, sloshing it around in one can before transferring the liquid, with aid of a funnel, to the next. Then I repeated the process with two rounds of fresh water to remove the cleaning products. I was unsatisfied with the results because dots of gunk still clung to the bottoms and vertical surfaces inside the cans, and I had no tools to use to scrape it off. Bleach, my friend, would have done the trick, I think, but Peter forbade its use. So, once again that day, I was less than happy with the results of my labor.

Jerry cans drying in the sun

I had to jump in the turquoise water to retrieve a cap that went overboard and as was coming up the swim ladder noticed how filthy the various round holes for exhaust and drainage and ventilation were. So, I took the dishwashing soap and my long pipe cleaning brushes (circular bristles on both ends of a 3-ft long flexible spring, which hadn't worked on the jerry cans) and shoved them in each one as far as they would go to get out as much dirt as possible. The holes are not immaculate and never will be no matter how much effort I put into the job, but I did the best I could, and the water from the cockpit drains more quickly now. 

I showered and dressed after all that hard work, made wraps for a very late lunch and then rested until 6 p.m., when we dinghied the short distance to hear the performance from S/V Singing Piano and watch the sunset.

Part of the crowd of 60 or so dinghies

Sherri and Peter listening to the concert from their dinghy

Sunset from the concert venue

Before going to bed, we dogged down all the hatches, took down flags, removed the life jackets from the dinghy and checked the sacrificial zincs Peter had hung from the shrouds (to ground lighting). Predicted were heavy rain and northeast winds gusting up to 40 knots in the night. Around 5 a.m., a squall descended from the skies with lashing rain which made it difficult to see any boats around us. I can only report second-hand on this because I slept through it all! Peter, as did many other skippers, started the engine in preparation for the possibility of needing power and maneuverability, but luckily we had no problems. However, at least three boats were grounded, one catamaran and two monohulls. They had to wait for high tide to get free of the sand, although they made various attempts (putting up sails, gunning the engine) to break free before that to no avail. Between 1:45 and 2:00 p.m., they all floated free, to applause and horn blowing from other boats around them.

Cloud of fine sand in the water astern of an Abel-designed boat after an attempt to get off

A monohull and a cat, both waiting for the rising tide

Electronic instrument record of our movement before dawn

In the late morning today, Peter and I kayaked to shore. We walked along the beach to get a better look at the grounded vessels and then walked across the island, from Elizabeth Harbour to Exuma Sound, along the Artists' Trail. Most of the art work has been made by kids on boats using natural materials such as dried coconuts, shells and rocks as well as rope and paint. Below are some examples.

Peter at the trailhead

Before we crested the small hill to reach the Atlantic side beach, we could hear the crashing and pounding of the waves on the rocks, beaches and cliffs. The views and the sound are dramatic and awe-inspiring.

Exuma Sound side of Stocking Island

Shells and broken pieces of coral on the beach

Now we will have a late lunch. At 4 :00, I will see if I have enough connectivity to the outside world to join my Gold River book club for our monthly meeting.