Post #58: Talking to Each Other

Thursday, February 4, 2021

Back when our kids were in elementary school we owned a gourmet food store in the Burlington Mall and being self-employed, we were able to take a month’s “working” vacation in August. We’d pack up both cars with our desktop computer and fax machine, as well as bathing suits, water skis and beach chairs and head north to Newfound Lake in New Hampshire.  The ride was only about 100 miles but in those pre-cell phone days, we wished we’d had a way to communicate between the two cars.  “Ye Olde Pen on Paper Held Up to the Window” method worked pretty well for messages like, “HUNGRY...Exit 18.” But it was even better when we bought walkie-talkies and the kids could chit chat for the 2-hour ride.

VHF radio works the same way when 6 boats head together across the Great Bahama Bank.

• “We’re pulling a trolling line, hoping to catch a fish or two for dinner,” (Jason on Pleiades)     
• “We are, too.” (Rich on Miss Adventure).                                                                                     
• “Great! We’ll all be over for dinner—y’all let us know what time.” (Sherry on Fantasea)

It’s turquoise blue water as far as the eye can see since the Great Bahama Bank is only about 10’ to18’ deep on our route. However, the charts can be a bit disconcerting as they read 3.5, 4.1, 4.6, etc.—alarming numbers to a sailboat with a 5’4” draft.  But they’re in meters (or metres in the Bahamas) so I’ve had to call up my 3.3 times tables, which, admittedly, are pretty darn rusty!

I’ve spent a lot of time staring at charts over the past 4-5 months. It’s impossible not to be intrigued and inspired by the markings and names on the map of the Great Bahama Bank: Hens and Chickens, Riding Rocks, Slaughter Harbor (what happened there?), Lignum Vitae Cay, Gingerbread Ground (inspired by Candyland?), a flashing lighted navigation aid named “Sylvia” and another named “Russell.” (Who were they?)

My favorite has to be this note in small print in the middle of a 3.1 metre area (quick—what’s that in feet?): “Less water reported (1920)”  That’s not a typo. 

Let’s see, to put that comment in perspective, in just 35 years we’ve gone from pieces of paper  held up to car windows to GPS and communication systems so accurate they can identify our car on I-93 in real time and tell us how fast we’re traveling.  Yet we still rely on paper charts with hundred-year old depth soundings?

The sea bottom changes daily if not hourly in some sections and mariners need all the tools they can muster for safe passage so we pay attention to any information we can access.  Nonetheless, the mighty ocean still manages to keep many of her secrets from mere mortals, which, indeed, only adds to her mysterious allure. 

We arrived at our chosen destination, east of Mackie Shoal, in the middle of the Bank.  Like the pioneers of yore, we “circled the wagons,” turned on anchor lights at the top of our masts, and slept soundly. We knew that we’d be visible to any passing ferry, cargo ship or fishing boat on their radar or AIS (Automatic Identification System) because....well, it’s not 1920.