Ta da. I went swimming today in the ocean.

Didn't make Lucaya. About 3 am, Randy got on the VHF and consulted with the convoy and we all agreed we'd had enough of beating ourselves up in seas, and suggested we ease up and head for West End on Grand Bahama - an easier course, and shorter distance under the conditions (which were NOT what was forecast). We'd been beating into 6-8 foot seas with wind nearly on the nose at 25 knots. It's never what you expect.

But it did get marginally better for a short stretch once we changed course, then the wind picked up some more, and it was bounce, roll, roll, bounce, and repeat, until dawn when we galloped up to West End, dropped the sails, and tied up at a slip and waited for the Customs Ladies (and the rest of the convoy) to arrive.
Randy had the longest night, since he did almost all the steering, with breaks for navigation checks. He managed a couple of hours of sleep today while Tom and I did the beach.

We sat in Bill and Leona's cockpit tonight and reviewed the trip. Leaks? Yes. On our boat, just in the main cabin, blowing through the vents, soaking one of the dinette cushions and the crew member reclined thereupon (moi). Also the forward end of the forward cabin bunk, nullifying the monster laundry job of washing and drying the duvet, just completed at great expense in Ft Launderdale. Sigh. Otherwise, boat was watertight. Vixen had much the same sort of leakage, and a port light leak, and they also lost the use of their jib when the head pulled out. Tom went up their mast this afternoon to retrieve the halyard and the dangling grommet. Voyageur C and Sea Holly did okay, but we all agreed that our stowing skills were only up to ICW conditions. As of this afternoon, we were all still wading through crap on the cabin soles. On Nancy D, this included about 30 vitamin C pills, 4 plastic bottles, the broom, one roll of Christmas wrapping, all my clothes and bins in which they used to reside in my locker (the door latch let go), 8 books I've read and was going to dump at the last book exchange shelf, the settee cushions, shoes, mustard bottle, four baseball caps, and things which have made their way into the bilge which will screw up our lives in other ways in the days to come. The passage was rough enough that I have several new bruises, not news really, given the map that I carry on my shins (lead with the shins, lead with the shins, where did I get that advice?), rough enough that we all agreed that it was difficult to sort out how to brace yourself with enough of an angle to pee, and be well enough braced to sort out one's clothing without being tossed into the opposite wall before you got your foulies pulled up. Tom puts his foot on the opposite wall. Muther has a rather more difficult time of it. Ah, it's all good for your abs.

Part-way through the night I remembered what it was that I hate about this sailing stuff: sailing. Things look better in the daylight, with the turquoise water just a glowing all round. And Tom and I did go swimming. Water was great (guess what, cold at first), about 23 degrees. We took our snorkels and masks and just wandered around the beach just around the corner from the marina. Nothing spectacular, sandy, grassy, but we saw a big ray while we walked along the beach, and fish, starfish, conch, dead bottles, coral, sand, bubbles, all sorts of good stuff snorkelling. And it was just us on the beach and in the water. Yay. Yay. Yay. It's lovely.

Now I'm going to sleep. For the first time in 36 hours.