I’m sitting in Laughing Gull’s cockpit, snugged into a well protected slip at Palm Cay, on the southeastern shore of New Providence. The sun is out behind me, but a large, angry, squall cloud is approaching from the northwest. More rain and squalls are on the way. Today the squalls are intermittent and relatively benign. Last night, there was lightning and winds gusting well into the 30s. Other parts of the Bahamas saw 40-plus, and hail (which is very rare here). Lots of reports of boats dragging through anchorages across the Bahamas, and some even ending up on the beach.
This is all courtesy of an unusually powerful low pressure system that is meandering its way east off the Georgia coast. In its wake, gale force winds were forecast (though I’ve yet to see winds that strong). Active fronts, one following another every 3-5 days, is a regular pattern this winter in the Bahamas. Mostly, they weaken enough that they are no big deal, especially as you get farther south. Some rain, some wind, perhaps gusting into the 30s, followed by some northerlies that slowly ease and clock east and then southeast. Life is good again. Then the next front starts to loom, the winds continue clocking around into the south and then southwest, and strengthen. And you do it all over again.
Dodging fronts and keeping a constant weather eye. That’s just life on a boat in the Bahamas. You move from anchorage to anchorage, according to what phase of the cycle you are in, which dictates what direction the wind comes from. This current system, and its freakishly strong front, was a little more worrisome. All over the Bahamas, cruisers scurried into the best protected anchorages they could find, and asked advice about which marinas and hidey-holes were already full. Here in Palm Cay, a very active charter hub for both the Moorings and Dream Yacht Charters, a parade of big catamarans with glum looking guests made their way back into the marina yesterday, to ride this one out.
Even though the cycle of fronts is eminently manageable, it takes a cycle or two once you are here to sufficiently deepen your connection to the weather, and its distinctive personality. One great pleasure of living on a boat is to be fully immersed in the natural world, and feel on your skin and in your soul the cycles of the wind, sun and waves. But it is also a more tenuous existence. If you live in a house, dramatic weather has the power to keep you indoors. But it doesn’t feel particularly threatening. There is a reason humanity took to dwelling in rigid and increasingly well-built structures. They offer a high level of protection and peace of mind.
On a boat in contrast, you feel the weather roaring around you even if you are well anchored in a good harbor. Strong winds heel the boat over and sail the boat around on the anchor until the anchor chain and snubber jerk tight with a groan. Rain hammers on the cabin top, and constantly seeks a way inside. You keep your waterproof gear ready, set an anchor alarm, and think through the steps you will take if that alarm goes off. If it is bad enough, you and other boats in the anchorage monitor the VHF radio so any trouble can quickly be broadcast, and help, if needed, can be mobilized. Restful sleep is more elusive. You live and plan by the 3-5 day forecast, and feel grateful for the modern sailor’s easy access to a wealth of weather models and the ease with which they can be displayed and examined. If you are paying attention it is hard to be caught out. But you still need to have a plan. In the back of your mind you are always running your options for coming weather, both good and bad.
It is a more vulnerable existence (and one also lived by many around the globe who don’t have access to good shelter). But you are protected enough, and start to revel in the intimate connection you develop with the local climate, its habits, and nuances. You start to grasp its whims and its dark moods, as well as its bright possibilities. It is a more primal life that maybe bonds you, distantly, to previous human generations who did not have secure shelter and also could not afford to let their guard down or ignore what was happening in the skies and waters around them. It can make you feel more alive. And it certainly makes you feel like you are fully using perhaps dormant and atavistic senses which are needed get in true synch with the physical forces which drive the weather systems in your quadrant of the planet. That seems like a good thing. Anyone who has that connection better understands the longer term changes occurring with climate, rainfall, and storm intensity. They become impossible to ignore.
The trick is to take what the weather gives, and be humble when it wants to take. I overnighted last week from Grand Bahama to New Providence, a 100 mile jump south, during a break in the previous cycle. And in coming days there will be perhaps a week of good wind and sun (hope I didn’t just jinx it!). That means it is the perfect time to take Laughing Gull across the shallow, coral head strewn, banks to the Exumas, where many dozens of remote cays and beautiful anchorages await. Chris Parker, a professional forecaster who sends out invaluable daily forecasts for the Bahamas says that this current system could set up another month or more of active and regular fronts. So the dance will continue, and the connection will deepen. I’ll learn lots about where to go in the Exumas for all wind directions and conditions. I look forward to that.
News And Notes:
Ugh: Royal Caribbean just launched Icon Of The Seas, the largest cruise ship on the planet, and makes headway convincing the gullible NYTs that it might be eco-friendly. (It really isn’t, especially if you consider the embedded carbon in its construction and all the flights passengers take to and from the ship). And there is this:
Royal Caribbean has made much of the fact that Icon of the Seas runs on liquified natural gas (LNG), describing it as the “cleanest-burning marine fuel”. However, Bryan Comer, director of the International Council on Clean Transportation’s marine programme, says using such fuel shows an industry “investing in false climate solutions”.
“They are doubling down by calling LNG a green fuel when the engine is emitting 70 to 80% more greenhouse gas emissions per trip than if it used regular marine fuel,” he said. “Icon has the largest LNG tanks ever installed in a ship. It is greenwashing.”
Using LNG rather than other marine fuels cuts carbon dioxide emissions by a quarter. But a cruise ship using LNG emits more greenhouse gas emissions overall, because of something called “methane slip”, Comer said. This is where some gas is not burned, leading to emissions of methane, a climate gas far more potent than carbon dioxide. Methane traps about 80 times more heat than CO2 during the 20 years after it is released into the atmosphere.
I look forward to seeing this monstrosity, and all like it, becoming stranded assets in the coming decade.
Snow Leopard Insanity: Talk about commitment and focus. This tells you all you need to know about what it takes to survive in the wild (click on image for video):
I feel bruised. And I need to go check the weather again. Bye for now.
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