|  In
Search of Paradise, Part One
There is a point on the human emotional scale where an Eternal
Optimist becomes a Hopeless Romantic. Right on this cusp you will
find my husband, at least when it comes to sailing, cruising or
anything that has to do with nautical pursuits. This is especially
true in reference to our highly anticipated cruise to the Exuma
Cays of Bahama.
For months now, he has poured over cruising guides,
chart books and other paraphernalia in careful preparation of every
detail for our trip. I don’t think moon launches could have
been implemented with more care or thought. In incidental conversations
with strangers at marinas about intended destinations, he would
take his glasses off and gently fold their stems together and let
them hang around his neck on his “gator.” Then, with
his bright blue eyes basically dancing, he would look intently at
his conversant and say “We’re heading to the Exumas.”
There was a reverence about the way he said the
word “Exumas,” almost breathless, or in awe. You really
can’t fault him for this attitude. After all, the cruising
guides use such words as “paradise” and “Mecca”
and “emerald necklace bedecking the periwinkle and turquoise
waters.” Anyone conceding to be an Eternal Optimist couldn’t
help but be nudged to Hopeless Romantic by such descriptions.
In that “paradise” would be defined
as the final destination we all seek, there must by necessity be
a “River Styxx” you must cross to get there. For cruisers,
that would be the Gulf Stream. No one gets to the Bahamas unless
they cross this cantankerous, sometimes hostile flow of water that
fishermen worship and cruisers disdain. The conditions to make the
crossing must be pretty near perfect. The wind absolutely can not
come from the North or any derivation thereof. If so, it will confront
the stream’s northward flow to the extent that a foment will
occur. The height of the waves is in exact proportion to the direction
and velocity of the wind. In order to avail oneself of the pleasures
of “paradise,” the cruiser must wait patiently for the
right moment to make the crossing.
We did our waiting in “No Name Harbor”
on Key Biscayne just South of Miami. For five days we anchored at
“No Name” carefully checking the weather each day to
determine when there might be a window of opportunity to cross the
Gulf Stream. During those five days, we observed the other boats
in the anchorage. Some would come in one day and leave the next.
But, some would stay around. Over the course of time, we spotted
two other boats that seemed to be in the “holding pattern”
like us – “Windy Liz” and “Victory.”
In the early afternoon of March 7, we were sitting
in our cockpit relaxing when we noticed the dinghy from “Windy
Liz” approaching Up Jinks. On hindsight, this would be a very
significant event, but at the time, we didn’t know it.
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