Chapter 14 All at Sea Again Florida to Bermuda June 1993 We finally left West Palm Beach on June 2nd in a flat calm. We decided that rather than sitting at anchor for another day and cooking in the heat; we would be better off drifting north in the gulf stream. At least we would be getting a free seventy five mile lift in the next twenty four hours. Our plan was to ride the gulf stream north through the area of predominantly east winds to about thirty degrees latitude where we should pick up westerlies to carry us to Bermuda. As it happened our drift north only lasted a couple of hours before we found a light south east breeze and we were doing four or five knots through the water or seven or eight over the bottom. Next morning the wind increased a bit out of the south and we turned east in perfect sailing conditions—a beam wind and smooth seas. We clocked up two consecutive days with 160 mile runs and in three days we were at the half way point. On the 4th we encountered another yacht at sea, an unusual occurrence in my experience, she was the american yacht Eprouve en route from Sampson Cay in the Exumas to Newport RI. Nice to have a chat with another boat One unexpected occurrence was running low on power for the first time in two years. I suppose we use a little more on a passage with the navigation lights on every night and the Autohelm and navigation equipment running twenty four hours a day, but the main reason I think was the solar panels. With my fixed installation only one of them can be running at peak efficiency at any one time, and if that one happens to be in the shadow of a sail for much of the day there is a net loss in the system. After three days I had to run the generator for a few hours. Later, on a different course and with a different sail set the batteries stayed up. The conditions were too good to last though, the winds gradually got lighter and on the seventh a weak cold front passed through followed by light headwinds. We made slow progress close hauled for a couple of days and then the wind fell away to nothing, a flat calm. Oborea drifted slowly in circles. There were no waves and just a slow swell from the north heaved the surface of the sea slightly. As we had sailed along we had seen several tropic birds. These beautiful white birds with their long trailing tail feathers are encountered far out at sea, always flapping strenuously. They would circle the boat for several minutes, inspecting it at close range before flying off to the annoyance of the cats. The other open ocean birds, the petrels and the shearwaters just ignore the boat, going about their own business; except for one shearwater. While we were becalmed he landed a short distance away and then paddled over to check us out. He swam right under our bows with the cats hanging over the side above him and then around to the stern. Iris decided to throw him a canned sardine to see what he would do. The sardine sank, but the shearwater swam around rapidly with his head under water until he had located his target and then made a dive for it. The little pig went through two cans of sardines while we took pictures and he hung around the rest of the day hoping for more. As the sun set in a glorious wash of reds and golds reflected in the smooth sea he was still there. After midnight we finally got a light breeze from the west and by morning we were bowling along at a comfortable six knots or so, and just before eleven Iris spotted land on the port bow. It was the Gibbs Hill area near the southern point of Bermuda about ten miles ahead. The only entrance through the reefs is near the north east corner of the island another fifteen miles along. As we sailed up the south coast in the sunshine we could see vacationers on the beaches and fishing boats working the edges of the reefs. Just before four we put the engine on and dropped sails to enter Town Cut against the wind, and by half past we were anchored in St Georges Harbour. 962 miles from West Palm Beach in eight days, seven and a half hours. This has to be one of the nicest places to enter, the harbour is perfectly sheltered and surrounded by little hills with brightly painted white roofed houses. The customs officials are as pleasant as you could hope to meet anywhere (and that alone is exceptional) in fact everyone on the islands is friendly. The only negative factor is that the islands are very expensive, but as Donald Street points out in his Transatlantic Crossing Guide:  Remember that the Bermudians have been in the tourist business since the 1870s. They are so adept but so polite at relieving you of your money that it doesn't even hurt. I have never heard of anyone complain of being ripped off in Bermuda, but neither have I heard of anyone who left the island with any money in his pockets. The following day we took one of the little pink and blue buses into the capital, Hamilton, to pick up mail. The one hour drive along the narrow winding lanes was like a drive through one huge garden. Great banks of oleander blooms overhang the road and the bus brushed against hedges of hibiscus. Every home has its neatly landscaped garden surrounded by hedges of flowers. The houses with their white roofs and pastel painted walls all look freshly scrubbed and between the flowers there are glimpses of a turquoise sea washing on pink beaches... It's a story-book island. We plan to be here a week resting and refreshing, and then it will be on east to the Azores.  

St George’s Harbour

Iris rows ashore

Bermuda street