20 NM / 3 hours 57 minutes Post #7
You know that rare feeling when you pull into an anchorage and everything feels right? No squalls chasing you, no weather windows to calculate. Just calm seas, sunshine, and that slow, deep exhale you didn’t know you were holding.
After weeks of dodging fronts and riding out rough nights, we dropped the hook at Big Major, finally, no rush, no stress. Just us, Kismet, and a sea full of possibilities.
Anchored and at Ease
We rolled in among a mix of mega yachts and salty cruisers like us, found a good spot, and dropped anchor. A quick weather check confirmed it, we could finally just be.
That evening, we dinghied over to Cruisers Beach for some impromptu sundowners, the kind of casual beach hangout that makes this lifestyle so special. Around 30 fellow cruisers showed up, sharing drinks, telling stories, and soaking in the magic of the moment.
It was the first time we met our now-dear friends on Sailing Tova, Sarah and Mike. If you know Sarah, you know she’s a walking party: high energy, full of laughter, and always ready to stir up a good time. She threw this little shin-dig together like it was nothing, and it turned into one of those nights we’ll always remember.
We’d go on to cross paths with them many more times as we made our way through the Exumas to Georgetown, but this was the beginning.
That night, after all the laughter and beach vibes, we headed back to Kismet and tucked in. It was quiet, calm, and completely uneventful… until it wasn’t.
When 1:30 AM Looks Like a Spotlight
Right around 1:30 a.m., the inside of our cabin lit up like a crime scene. My heart instantly kicked into gear. That kind of light usually means one of two things:
- You’re dragging.
- Someone else is.
Turns out, it was the second one. A powerboat had drifted right to our bow. They hadn’t let out enough rode, and the incoming tide carried them straight into us.
Rodney jumped out of bed and fired up the engine. I, half-asleep and barefoot, was already up on deck, ready to fend off. I yelled at the other boat while Rodney used the bow thruster to push us off.
His dog finally started barking and woke him up, and he had the nerve to be irritated that we woke him. Unreal.
Eventually, he re-anchored, let out proper scope, and we backed down again to make sure we were holding. By now it was almost 3 a.m. I went back to bed, but Rodney laid out in the cockpit waiting for his favorite crew member to show up: the sun.
There’s something about that early morning light, when your surroundings come back into view, and it all just feels okay again.
Pigs, Propane, and the Floating Fuel Circus
With the drama behind us, we kicked off the next morning with a cruise over to Pig Beach , yes, that Pig Beach. But apparently, things had changed. A big new sign said you had to pay to land.
No thanks.
So we hovered offshore. Sure enough, a few pigs swam out like they were expecting room service. It’s ridiculous and hilarious all at once, watching giant pigs float through the clear Bahamian water like they own it.
From there, we headed to Staniel Cay Marine with our empty jerry cans. We tuned into the VHF as we eased around the bend and dock talk was flying left and right.
The dockmaster? All business. He waved us in, filled our cans, and got us moving so the big boats could take their spot. We weren’t even allowed to pay him there. We had to dinghy to the dock office to settle up.
We loaded everything back onto Kismet, topped off the tanks, and got ready for the next leg.
Onward to Black Point
The forecast was spot on the next morning, blue skies and a perfect breeze. We pulled anchor and pointed Kismet toward Black Point Settlement, where a new stretch of our adventure was waiting.
Stick Around
There’s always more where this came from. From night watch chaos to floating pigs and fuel dock politics, life aboard Kismet never stays still for long.
Come back soon — we’ve got plenty more stories to tell.
Cheers,
Patrice & Rodney