As we made our way out of the Bimini inlet into the open Atlantic, we had a decision to make—head north around the top of the island to enter the Grand Bahama Bank, or take the southern route. Each had its pros and cons. Going north meant deeper water and less stress over our 5 ½ foot draft, but it added time. Heading south would be shorter, but we’d need to keep a constant eye on the depth. In the end, we chose the northern route.
It was a rough start. The swell was coming in on the beam, reaching six feet at times, and for a while we were getting tossed around more than we liked. We had never been so relieved to make our turn toward the west and aim for Nassau. Almost instantly, the seas settled, and we found ourselves on a broad reach. The next several hours were pure sailing bliss, smooth and steady with the wind in our favor.
But as we enjoyed our well-earned lunch and a moment of calm, the next challenge loomed ahead. We had read countless posts and articles about navigating the Northwest Channel—especially the warnings about passing through at night. Naturally, our plan had us doing exactly that.
Still, we felt confident. High tide, outgoing current, and light winds gave us a narrow but doable window. As they say, timing is everything. Just before midnight, in complete darkness, Rodney guided us carefully through the channel. I was finally able to catch a little sleep, knowing I’d be needed again in the early hours.
Around 4:30 in the morning, I woke to the sound of the VHF crackling. Rodney was hailing a ship nearby, and as I sat up and looked outside, I saw a line of massive ships stretching toward the southern entrance to Nassau. The port wasn’t open for arrivals yet, so Rodney had to stay sharp on both the helm and the radio. Ship after ship answered with “Copy that, Captain,” as he maneuvered us safely through the traffic.
By sunrise, we had cleared the port approaches and were back in open water, headed toward Highborne Cay. Rodney was dog tired and finally got a well-deserved rest. I took the helm and enjoyed one of the most peaceful sails of the trip—Nassau off to my left, clear turquoise water below, and hardly another boat in sight.
As we neared Highborne Cay, I started reading up on it. Social media was buzzing about newly installed mooring balls and conflicting reports from cruisers. We weren’t sure what to expect, but as the cay came into view, we could clearly see the moorings—and several boats already on them. We picked one near a gorgeous Vagabond, which turned out to belong to some new friends we’d soon get to know.
Safely tied off, we settled into the rhythm of island life. Sundowners in hand, dinner on deck, and the promise of a good night’s rest. Tomorrow, we’d start exploring the Exumas for the first time, and we couldn’t wait.
Patrice & Rodney,
Sailing Kismet