THE BAHAMAS 2025
FLOATING ON CRYSTAL CLEAR WATER | The Berry Islands, Bahamas
MARCH 9 - MAY 29, 2025
I wake up to the warmth of the Caribbean sun on my face. Because there is no air conditioning onboard, the hatch above our V-berth is always open. The familiar calls of gulls filter through the opening along with the gentle trade winds. Meriah is still asleep. Wiping my eyes, I stand and peek my head through the hatch. Novella is floating on what appears to be someone’s backyard swimming pool, except it has no sides — it goes on ad infinitum. The water is illuminated like a turquoise lamp with rippling bands of light at the surface and perfectly clear to the white bottom 12 feet below. I swear I’m inside a pop art painting of a pool in some gallery somewhere — the ripple edges are too defined; the water’s hue too mesmerizing to be real. The scene is so inviting I want to dive into it, as if an unseen magnet is pulling me in, but I am acutely aware this particular pool is teeming with sharks – hammerheads, tigers, and bulls. If I can control this dream, I’d rather avoid the kind where I am the prey and my lead-filled arms are worthless for escape.
I blink a few more times, but as the seconds pass I do not wake up. The breeze is still on my face. This is where I live, inside this dream.
The window to this dream was pried open three years earlier, in the winter of 2022.
Meriah and I had just flown to the Bahamas for the first time, escaping work and the arctic air enveloping Iowa. The “out island” of Eleuthera (which we had never heard of) sounded ideal for a 4-night getaway — no cruise ship port, relatively few tourists, and miles of pink sand beaches to explore.
Watching the sunset one evening, we noticed a sailboat anchored in the harbor. The couple aboard motored their dinghy to shore and took a walk along the beach. I was instantly intrigued, and inexplicably envious.
I wondered, “What does it take to be able to live a life like that?” The very thought of such a lifestyle seemed forever out of reach to someone due back in the office in two days, someone with a mortgage in a landlocked state.
Three years later, we sailed to that very harbor, in a 25-foot sailboat, and dropped our anchor. Now I know what it takes.
It took selling our home and nearly everything we owned. It meant ending a thriving career in hopes our small business would sustain us. It meant saying goodbye to our friends and families, entering an isolated life where friendships are fleeting or limited to phone calls and interactions on a screen. In exchange, we are now the couple that vacationers watch from the beach. The question I often ask is, “Was it worth it?”
On most days, this question has no chance to enter our minds. Back when I shared my dream with Meriah, I said we should be “living a life of adventure” instead of traveling only a few weeks per year. It sounds a bit cringy now, but I had had two mai tais. Nonetheless, I was growing tired of doing the same things in the same places day after day.
When sailing feels like an adventure, it feels like we are living up to my expectations. That sense of adventure is palpable anytime we make a crossing. The nervousness the night before is enough to rob me of sleep. With no land in sight in any direction, Novella is a tiny dot in the great blue wavy ocean, at times 15,000 feet above whatever lives way down below.
ENJOYABLE SAILING
Our crossing from The Berry Islands to Nassau was forecast to be smooth and filled with fun, but nature did not get the memo. We had visions of trolling for tuna, playing music and laughing along the route. Instead we were spotting waterspouts and crashing upwind into stiff four-footers. Happily arriving in Nassau Harbour, we motored closely past the six mammoth cruise ships docked there before receiving permission from Harbour Control to anchor for up to three days. As it turned out, one day would be more than enough.
The moment we dropped anchor, a pair of jet skis rocketed by just feet away, splashing both of us on deck — incredible recklessness. I screamed at them, but they were already out of earshot and didn’t seem interested in our reaction. It was the weekend, and the tour boats and local show-offs were out in force. Boats here apparently have two speeds: idle and full throttle. We took our lives into our hands by dinghy-ing in for a Bahamian dinner at a ramshackle waterside grill. Speed boats raced through, rounding corners blindly and throwing big wakes. When we returned to Novella, she was rolling so hard we had to wait to approach so we weren’t hit in the head by one of the stanchions. Later as we were trying to fall asleep, we heard voices close by. I peered out the window to see a speedboat loaded with partiers drifting right toward us. Someone on board alerted the “captain”, who threw it into reverse just in time to miss colliding with us. In the morning we paid a steep $20 to dock Puff, loaded up at a real grocery store, then were happy to leave Nassau in our wake.
NOT ENJOYABLE SAILING
Rose Island seemed like a more peaceful stop, but it became our first introduction to wraparound swell. In the States, it’s easy to find a calm anchorage protected from natural waves. In the Bahamas, you are lucky to find protection from 180 degrees. Often, one may think they’ll have protection only to find waves wrapping around the island to roll their boat from side to side. In our narrow hull, this can make it nearly impossible to sleep. Anything unsecured crashes around the boat as our bodies literally get rolled uncontrollably back and forth in bed.
The next day, we sailed to Eleuthera while dodging thunderstorms forming all around us. As we approached the island, lightning-producing cells were closing in. We decided to change our destination and duck into Hatchet Bay, a rare hurricane hole in the Bahamas. High winds would keep us here for a full week, so we fell into a slow pace in the tiny settlement of Alice Town. This was a calm and easy place to live “on the hook”, with the famous Boater’s Haven Convenience Store and Grill only a few hundred feet away. We enjoyed relaxing at the settlement’s beautiful town beach and ordering the $5 wings with fries “snack” in town, an incredible deal in the islands.
We sailed on to Governor’s Harbour, the very place we first saw that sailboat years ago. It was just as beautiful as we remembered, except this time it was packed full of boats. They were seeking shelter from another round of incoming high winds, and April must be a more popular cruising time than February.
Lulled by sunset after sunset, and beach walk after beach walk, the sense of adventure began to wane, but who cares? We deserved a break. We had spent a full calendar year running the marathon of the Loop, then raced against winter to get to Florida where we toiled for months preparing the boat and meticulously stocking our hull full of provisions.
Despite feeling desperately in need of a vacation, life aboard Novella never provides one, even in paradise. The main factor is we both still work full time running our business. It’s a double-edged sword. We are incredibly grateful to have the ability to work remotely, but we find ourselves in breathtaking locations where we spend more time wishing we were enjoying them than actually enjoying them. Our stunning pictures on Instagram typically come from a 30-minute excursion at the end of the workday, after we’ve been cramped inside the cabin of Novella, sweating and staring at laptops.
Also, living on a boat is far more difficult than one would imagine. We’ve seen marinas and boatyards from the Great Lakes to the Caribbean littered with the rotting hulls of countless broken dreams. Many dreamers never even leave the dock. Some go out for a season, realize it’s not a vacation, and never go out again.
For the rare few who do venture out, there are annoyances that slowly begin to stack up after enough time living aboard a small boat. These may seem like charming quirks on a weeklong journey, but they become irritating facts of life after months on end. When life on board sometimes feels tiring, I think of everyone at home envious of our surroundings and how they would feel if they heard me complain. Only a fool would try to describe to others the annoyances of living in paradise.
GOVERNOR’S HARBOUR | Eleuthera, Bahamas
Cabin fever. Lack of exercise. Things are always breaking. Everything costs a fortune. Being waked by other boats. The bottom needs cleaned. Getting up throughout the night to check a noise or close a hatch for rain. When we want to sail, the wind isn’t blowing, or is blowing too hard, or coming from the direction we want to go. It gets lonely. We may make friends for a night, then we are on to the next island. There are few places to relax comfortably. We shower from a bag with neighbors watching, when we can shower at all. When trying to locate anything in the fridge, all the other food has to come out first. Every drop of water we use must be lugged in heavy jugs. Due to the preciousness of fresh water, we scrub our dishes in the cockpit in salt water, with a final “rinse” from a spray bottle. This means the last bites of a meal can sometimes taste of dish soap. Everything we need is under something else, so a simple task like cooking leaves the cabin an absolute mess. Our laundry must be dinghied to shore and hauled to a laundromat. The dinghy motor must be lowered or lifted each time we change locations. We can’t stand up straight. We have to contort our bodies to get in or out of the boat or complete common tasks.
A TYPICAL WATER HAUL
For cruisers with enough money, all the daily annoyances of living on board can be solved with a large and luxurious boat and deep enough pockets to pay someone else to do everything for them. We meet many boaters in the Bahamas who fit that description, and a few who are scraggly like us. We also frequently encounter the extreme end of the spectrum — the MEGA YACHTS. They’re anchored just a few hundred feet away, enjoying all the same locations, but on much, much different terms. Their vessels are larger than the average home in the US, let alone the home of your average Bahamian. Once they anchor, their giant waterslides inflate from the top deck, the jet skis are deployed from the garage, and their onboard swimming pool is uncovered for lounging. Sometimes the owners or guests arrive on the vessel’s helipad. Their dinghy alone is many feet longer than Novella and they have crew to handle their every whim and desire. Massage therapists, watersports teams, nannies, and chefs are among the many crew onboard to offer a lavish experience that lies outside the imagination of everyone in our social or professional circles.
It can feel nice to be pampered for a while. I’ve never been to an all-inclusive resort, on a cruise ship, or to a spa. That’s just not my thing (although admittedly I do love a good massage every couple of years). For me, I love the thrill of being the captain, of holding our lives in my hands. I love gaining knowledge on how to navigate, time the tides and currents, and safely move us through a treacherous cut. I feel accomplishment in the fact that I outfitted my own vessel, know every bolt and wire, and can fix almost anything with my little bag of carefully selected tools. If I feel any pride it’s in how little I spent to be out here, not in how much. Certainly the guests on MEGA YACHTS can’t relate, nor have any desire to. We are an annoying speck in their pristine anchorage. When they shower on deck, it is the epitome of class. When we shower on deck, we are the filth of the sea. If only the ocean were for sale, they would buy it and evict us.
OUR LITTLE OFFICE
One day we snuck away from work to go snorkel “the aquarium”. This is a small rock formation in the Exumas with some decent coral and thick schools of resident tropical fish that are so used to visitors they encircle them without a single care. The area is protected from fishing and they must have been told. As we were leaving, a “dinghy” from a MEGA YACHT arrived. I have to admit I was jealous; not of their boats or luxuries, but the fact they had time. They can explore this beautiful place to their heart’s content, while I am stuck working in my boat all day. It’s an embarrassing way to feel, an ungrateful attitude that deserves no airtime while I am living out my dream, no matter how “difficult” it may feel at times.
I thought back to Hatchet Bay where I was handed a lesson by a Bahamian gentleman about my age. I saw him fishing from shore each and every time we would dinghy over to walk the island. He asked me if I had any fishing hooks on board my “yacht” I could spare. I laughed and told him I would be happy to give him some hooks since I can’t seem to catch anything with them, but I certainly didn’t have a yacht. He asked, “Which boat is yours?” I pointed past a standard size sailboat to little Novella.
“Yeah, man, that’s a yacht!”
I thought he didn’t see. “No, do you see the tiny little sailboat out there? It’s only 25 feet. It’s definitely not a yacht.”
“Man, I tell you, that is a YACHT! You sleep on it, yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“OK, that’s a yacht! We call anything you can sleep on a yacht. You’ve seen where I live!”
He gestured to the 10’x10’ shack at the edge of the water. I knew he slept there, but it was so full of stuff I didn’t know how he found room. He doesn’t have a boat of any kind, but I’m sure if he did he would have more opportunity. He spends all day, everyday, fishing from this one dock in the hot sun, ripping the guts out of fish so he can scrape out an existence.
In my mind, no yacht owner would dare stand on this shore and talk to this man. To him, I was the yacht owner.
I should be a little more grateful when I taste that soap.
LOVING THAT SHALLOW DRAFT | Governor’s Harbour, Eleuthera
Since Governor’s Harbour is among the most beautiful towns in the Bahamas and we felt a special connection with this place, our attempt at a working “vacation” here lingered on. In addition, a critical piece broke on our head (known as a “toilet” to landlubbers) and we had to solve the puzzle of how to get a new one sent to us. This proved to not be an easy task. We ended up staying more than two weeks here waiting for the part and began to get to know, and be known, by some of the locals. The proprietor of the local grocery would ask me each time I entered, “Hey buddy, any luck getting that fan yet?” He continued to offer ideas and advice each day, which was really kind.
The harbor was a fantastic place to swim and we took full advantage of doing so along the beach there. We walked to the Levy Wildlife Preserve, which is full of native plants and an incredible pond full of turtles, and then hitched a ride back. We hitchhiked to and from the local farm for fresh produce. While hitchhiking is something we would never dream of doing in the US, it is common here and perfectly safe. One guy even gave us his number in case we needed a ride later. Another time a professional taxi offered us a free ride as we walked along the rural highway. None of these people would accept our money. Bahamians are among the friendliest and most generous people we’ve ever met.
On our first trip here we had missed the famed “Fish Fry”, so it was time to make things right. The Fish Fry is a beach shack that only opens on Friday nights and was rumored to be quite the party spot. We envisioned a lively gathering where locals and visitors dined and partied together and danced to local music into the night. They pride themselves on the “Rum Bubba”, a supposedly dangerously strong cocktail made of a mystery concoction of various alcohols and fruit juices. The DJ is a pusher of the drinks as he wants to extend the average visit time and keep the party going into the late hours. As it turns out, every single person that comes to the Fish Fry is a tourist. Once the meal is done, the party takes over the street and you’ll soon see your grandma or aunt or cousins doing the limbo competition or getting wild in ways you’ve never seen, thanks to the Rum Bubbas. This is when the locals show up. They want to see “the show”, and who could blame them? This is free entertainment!
After our first visit, we had the Fish Fry figured out and were free to explore other options (like the delicious and affordable Mattie’s Grill), or listen to the same Fish Fry playlist each Friday from the comfort of our boat. But no matter how tired we were, we were drawn to dinghy over once the limbo competition started, and watch the show with the locals. One night we were enjoying the entertainment when a man approached, laughing at the antics on display. He came up to us and chatted for a while, happily telling us about his cousin that was there helping with the event. It was a great night under the palm trees, with the refreshing sea breeze and the music fueling the party. Soon after, he came up to us again with a seriousness in his eyes.
“That man, right there. He killed my best friend.”
Among the music, the joy, and the bustling crowd, I wasn’t sure I heard him correctly. The Bahamian accent can be elusive to me sometimes. I asked him to repeat what he had said.
“That man, right there,” with tears welling up in his eyes and his quivering finger pointing, “He killed my best friend!”
My blood ran cold. He said it loud enough for the man to hear, but not loud enough to break the focus of the tourists in the limbo line.
Our new friend had clearly been drinking the rum heavily this night, and I studied the accused with great interest. The man never looked at me or acknowledged his accuser, he just bobbed along to the music. Of course, my mind was filled with questions that seemed inappropriate to ask of anyone. This is not my home and none of this should be my business.
I was taken back to days earlier, sitting on the beach with another local who partook heavily of his rum each and every day I saw him. He had told me he knew everyone in town and purposely kept his distance from certain people he grew up with because they were criminals who would rob and assault people on the island with wild abandon, even in broad daylight. I had challenged him in my own very gentle way because I had never seen anything even remotely dangerous on the island during my two visits, and what little crime there was seemed widely reported. I told him if visitors or cruisers were being assaulted or robbed I would have definitely heard of it. Another later incident seemed to confirm his paranoia was likely intensified by the cheap and abundant rum. Nonetheless, he wanted to be our friend. He wanted to help us. He never presented a danger. In fact, in his mind he was our protector.
Whether what we witnessed is the residual trauma of violence, mental illness, or addiction remains unknown. What I do know is that it exists to some degree in every country around the world, and in the US we have the same issues by the truckload.
Nowhere is paradise. Not even paradise.
With our “head” repaired, we were finally able to move on to the southern edge of Eleuthera. This time we were in Rock Sound, waiting to cross the often rough Exuma Sound to the Exuma island chain, one of the most popular locations for cruisers in the Bahamas. We needed a semi-calm day to get Novella across this body of water and through the dangerous cuts of the island chain, but it just wasn’t appearing.
Day after day, the wind kept us pinned in Rock Sound, so we did all the typical things cruisers do here. We dove into the Ocean Hole, a 600-foot-deep inland saltwater blue hole connected to the ocean through an extensive cave system. We explored and climbed the gorgeous Cathedral Cave.
Rock Sound is a very local-centric Bahamian settlement with far fewer tourists than other areas, so they heavily cater to the cruisers for income. There’s fresh water plumbed right to the shoreline for us, a huge well-built dinghy dock that is free to use with free trash drop-off, and a well-stocked grocery store that is designed to resemble something we would see back home.
Unfortunately, Rock Sound is home to many stray island dogs known as “Potcakes”. On our first walk here, one of them growled at us from all the way across the street. I began to carry my pepper spray. One evening we were walking when we disturbed two dogs lying unseen behind a wall. They emerged and began barking aggressively, following us down the block. This alerted all the other Potcakes in town that something was going on, and before long an entire pack (around seven or more) began to follow us closely. This was quite alarming, and we did our best to remain calm and ignore them. Some became bored, while others stayed right behind us all the way across town and back to the dock. Just a couple weeks after we left, we saw the news that a local man had been attacked and bitten badly on the torso and the leg, requiring stitches and antibiotics.
A FRIENDLY POTCAKE
The wind was still too high to leave, but Easter was coming, and it was clear Rock Sound was gearing up for a “Homecoming” celebration of epic proportions. Word on the street was Bahamians from all the “family islands” and Nassau were pouring in on ferries or flying in to celebrate with family. A large stage, food vendors, and decorations were lining the main highway along the shoreline. We made some new friends with Jeff and Claire aboard Nara, a comparatively huge and luxurious 46’ Hunter. They joined us for the final night of celebrations, where we danced in the street surrounded by locals as some of the top musicians of the Bahamas graced the stage. We made an instant connection with the crew of Nara and hope to see them sometime again, but they were headed north and we still had the southern islands to explore.
With our only friends gone, we were beginning to feel restless, lonely, uncomfortable, and hungry for adventure. Finally, the forecast looked agreeable enough for us to give it a try. Since the Exumas are the most expensive place in the already pricey Bahamas, we loaded Novella to the gills and did as many chores as we could, including laundry by hand at the roadside tap (the local laundromat was closed).
On April 27th, we enjoyed an exhilarating and fast downwind crossing to the Exumas, Puff surfing down the following waves and bumping into our stern. As we approached the islands we noticed unusual creatures approaching us, dolphin-like but much larger. Upon some research, we determined they were a pod of right whales that had swam right under our boat. We anchored inside the protection of Allan’s Cay, a tiny cluster of islands home to an endangered species of iguana that scurries to the shore each time a visitor approaches. (They are trained by the tour operators that come over from Nassau and feed them grapes, even though it’s technically against the rules.)
NORTHERN BAHAMIAN ROCK IGUANA
The beauty of the Exumas was worth the wait. “Three hundred and sixty five islands — one for every day of the year,” the locals love to say. They are postcard perfect, all the shades of blue and green on display like a watercolorist’s palette, depending on the depth. Swaying palm trees above gorgeous soft beaches all to ourselves, with the fury of the deep Atlantic on one side and calm Caribbean waters on the other. Thanks to the protection of the islands, we could sail practically every day regardless of conditions, hopping south from island to island as we pleased. Everything had changed. It was so gorgeous, and there was so much to do and see, but we were working most of the time. This was the height of the previously described “tropical depression.” Still, we made the most of it. Morning coffee on the beach, work, work, work. Maybe a swim at 5 or 6pm, or a hike. We always had to get some kind of picture for the daily Instagram followers, even if we didn’t really leave the boat.
We sailed into the Exuma Cays (pronounced “keys”) Land and Sea Park boundary, encompassing 176 square miles. This is the first place on earth we’ve ever had to pay to anchor, and there is no fishing of any kind allowed. We made time for some fun by visiting the “washing machine”. To get there, we had to leave precisely at the time of high tide, and dinghy a couple of miles through the mangrove-lined creeks to arrive at the Atlantic side of Shroud Cay right before the tide began to go out. When the water poured out at a pace resembling rapids, we dove in and were promptly swept out to sea! This is all safe thanks to a shallow sandbar that stops you before any chance of danger. We felt like kids going on a ride again and again and left with big smiles. “We need to be doing more things like this,” Meriah said. But the laptops were calling.
We moved on to the main island of the park, Waderick Wells. As we motored the last leg to our anchorage spot, the Honda 9.9 kept sputtering and dying at idle. What a place this would be to lose the motor! There aren’t any part stores here, not even any settlements. We’ll deal with it later. In the meantime, we made a plaque out of driftwood with Novella’s name scrawled in with our Dremel tool. As is customary, we affixed it to the top of Booboo Hill, the tallest point on the island. We hiked as much as possible and swam off the breathtaking beach near the rustic park office, which would sell us luxurious bagged ice at the luxurious price of $10 per five-pound bag. Our hikes here were brutally hot. We could feel every bit of the tropical sun’s radiation as the trade winds died down. Summer is almost here. We need to get to our furthest point south quickly.
OUR OFFERING | Boo Boo Hill, Waderick Well, The Exumas
I worked on the motor from Puff. The waves were choppy and moving me and the motor around at different intervals. The prospect of dropping a motor piece overboard was terrifying. And then, I did drop something. My screwdriver drifted down and left my sight, even in the perfectly clear waters. I donned my snorkel and couldn’t find it — the boat was rotating at anchor so I had no reference for where it fell. Widening my search area, I saw the orange handle protruding from the sand. I was not happy to be working in these conditions, but I managed to tune the motor enough to hold an idle.
We made our quick stop to snorkel the aforementioned Aquarium and then moved on to the Black Point settlement. We were ready for a little civilization and a break. We hadn’t had a real hot water shower in 50 days and desperately needed to do laundry. Rockside Laundry, with perhaps the best view from a laundromat in the world, was our savior. They even had showers for $4 each! We absolutely adored this island. It was quaint, low key, and the locals were so happy to have us. Unlike the rest of the Exumas that cater to the MEGA YACHTS (we skipped one famous stop that offers a $34 cheeseburger), this little island depends on the scrappy, grungy cruisers like us. They even have affordable restaurants along the shoreline. We went wild at the Black Point Yacht Club’s happy hour, ordering whatever we wanted and leaving with a bill that was lower than your average place in Florida. We met some charming locals and loved hiking here.
I shared with Meriah that my entire outlook had improved, I was feeling in a much better mental state and was feeling much more grateful to be on this adventure. She felt the same way and asked what had changed? “I guess all we needed was a shower and a dinner out?” We laughed and wondered if that was truly the case. Nonetheless, Black Point had recharged us for the rest of the journey.
I could have stayed in Black Point a very long time, but Georgetown was calling.
To get further south, we would have to enter the Exuma Sound again and contend with some more challenging cuts that connect the shallow banks to the vast expanse of the Atlantic. When the tide shifts, an incredible amount of water pours through the cuts, and can create huge standing waves — incredibly dangerous for a little sailboat. If the wind is opposing the current, the “rage” produced could be a catastrophic end for Novella and its crew. In addition, the abundant rocks lining the channels or hidden beneath the surface create a huge number of hazards to avoid. Timing is everything, and the captain must always be very aware of their location.
I chose Rudder Cay Cut after much research, and we had an uneventful exit on an outgoing tide and reasonable trade winds, although I became confused at one point as to which visible rock I was passing, which could have led us into danger. It was a long, wet upwind sail to Conch Cay Cut and the protection of Elizabeth Harbour, but we had made it. Georgetown, a mecca for cruisers. Very, very few O’Day 25’s have ever entered these waters, and we were by far the smallest boat in the harbour.
Many cruisers spend an entire season here or even make it their long-term home. There is a large, established cruising community and a daily “cruiser’s net” on the VHF. We only stayed five days. We greatly enjoyed the hikes on Stocking Island, but the anchorages were busy with dangerous tour boat operators and the town was not a highlight for us.
I was tempted to keep pointing Novella south and trying to set some kind of record for an O’Day 25 completing the entire Caribbean — I wasn’t ready for the adventure to end, and heading home doesn’t feel like much of an adventure. In the end, I decided that while I would like to do the route, it probably wasn’t very wise in this vessel.
We headed back north on a good breeze and sizeable following waves. It was an uncomfortable day and we were ready for the protection of the Exumas again, but to get the timing right I would have to keep sailing for hours. I decided that the angle of the wind would make it safe enough to enter Rudder Cay Cut again, since I had a proven route tracked on the chartplotter and I thought the outgoing tide wouldn’t present too many challenges. It was fine last time and the conditions were similar. Besides, we were only a couple more hours from the ideal time to enter, so it would be fine. I was very wrong.
I told Meriah to close up all the hatches just in case, and to put her lifejacket on. If she was going to join me in the cockpit she would have to be tethered in like I was. She decided to join me. I tried my best to get a view of conditions through binoculars as we approached the cut, but the height of the waves was blocking my view. I knew there would be a point of no return if I kept going and I would have no choice but to continue in. Turning around in breaking waves would be a guaranteed disaster.
As we got closer, I began to regret my choice. We were going for a ride. The following waves began to break on our stern, and I told Meriah to hang on for her life. We were in a rage. I tried to keep Novella straight with the waves, but I feared with too much pressure I would break the rudder and then we’d be tumbled or heading for the rocks. The waves were so large that the propeller was being lifted out of the water and the motor would make an unsettling roar as the exhaust and prop were exposed to air. We were being pushed not only askew but would tilt frighteningly to one side each time, as if we would be spilled out of the cockpit. My heart was pounding in my chest as I saw us get closer and closer to the rocks on the sides of the cut. We managed to surf down the worst of the waves and eventually we found ourselves in calmer waters. We got lucky and learned an incredibly valuable lesson — don’t underestimate cuts and inlets! I already knew this but only from reading.
If I was looking for adventure, I had found it.
We island-hopped back up the Exuma chain, stopping for a few attractions we had missed. First up was Thunderball Grotto, which earned its name from 60’s James Bond film it was featured in. Snorkeling through caves with light pouring in from a crumbling rock dome above was magical. Because we were outside the busy season, we even had it to ourselves for a few minutes. “Rachel’s Bubble Bath” was another natural formation we just had to see — a natural “swimming pool” that gets overflowed by waves breaking over rocks from the Atlantic side. We shared our swim with a baby lemon shark that was trapped in with us until the next tide. We brought floaties and everything and had a real good time. We also had to stop for just one drink at at the famous Staniel Cay Yacht Club.
We crossed back to Eleuthera and made it all the way to the northernmost tip before another crossing to the Abacos, a full day’s sail punctuated by the arrival of our first true summer thunderstorm, blowing 35 knots. We were lucky to not encounter it in open waters. Thanks to the off-season, we secured a mooring ball in gorgeous Hopetown, which included use of the marina’s two swimming pools. It was my birthday, and the weekend, and for just this once the trip felt a little like a vacation. We went to a coffee shop, enjoyed fresh conch salad at a no-frills hut, and chatted up the locals. Meriah decided to use the downtime to check on a boat we had been watching before we left for the Bahamas. It was the exact boat we would want if we were going to keep cruising, but it was way out of our budget, so we had let it go. It was landlocked on an inland lake in North Carolina. Over the months we were in the Bahamas, the price had dropped considerably because no one wanted the hassle of arranging transport to bigger waters.
At 36 feet and with a 12-foot beam, the S2 11A is around three times Novella’s size and weight. While technically considered a “coastal cruiser”, they are sturdy boats. Two of them have circumnavigated the globe.
Novella was the perfect first boat, and an amazing boat for doing the Loop on a budget. She served us so well in taking us more than 7,000 nautical miles, through situations her designers surely never imagined. After two years living aboard, we were feeling ready for a little more comfort and the ability to explore new waters. Could a larger, more comfortable vessel help us enjoy cruising enough to keep going full-time?
On my birthday, we decided to make an offer. Later at the pool, we learned we were owners of a beautiful new sailboat.
It was time to head back to the States and see our new home.
DAILY TRAVEL LOG | TO THE BAHAMAS & BACK
Day 103 • an afternoon walk/hitchhike, placed an order for coconut bread, cocktails under the gazebo, a chance run-in with Tucker from day 63 of the loop, allowed the air-tagged kitten to wander the docks, watched a storm roll in from the hammock
Great Harbor Cay, Bahamas
Day 104 • without even leaving the marina we saw several big crabs, assorted tropical fish including a colorful parrotfish, a feeding nurse shark, and a farting manatee
Day 105 • changed both oils on the big outboard, took pictures of cats
Day 106 • changed the oils on the dinghy motor this time, learned how to clean a fish, watched a couple of nurse sharks and a lemon eat scraps, failed at fishing like always
Day 107 • favorite breakfast, lots of regular work, even more boat work (new faucet, new plumbing, a start on installing the new inverter), bbq dinner with musical acts, rum punch, favorite kind of dog (scruffy), rum punch, made friends, said see you later to friends
Day 108 • finished the inverter install, fixed all the things we accidentally disconnected along the way, cooked rice with only the power of the sun, solo beach adventure (first time in the sea), William the coconut, little pizzas
Day 109 • slept in, patched the dinghy, walked to the beach, ate lunch and took a dip in the clear water
Day 110 • filled up on water and left the marina, we’re hanging out in the harbor while we wait for the wind to die down
Great Harbour Cay Marina to the harbor at Great Harbour Cay, Bahamas
Day 111 • afternoon hike to the grocery store, subjected Coconut William to an arsenal of tools only to discover he was unfit for consumption, found some books and a shirt
Day 112 • today felt like the Bahamas - sailed on top of crystal clear water, swam in the blue hole at Hoffman’s Cay, strolled the beach, two turtles, one shark
Great Harbour Cay to Hoffman’s Cay, Bahamas
Day 113 • we’ve leveled up by accomplishing a major Bahamas goal - to eat from the sea! first we dinghied face-first until we found a suitable conch, only slightly traumatized ourselves with the harvesting, hammered (literally) the meat real good, then we battered and fried up a tasty little snack
Hoffman’s Cay to Frazier’s Hog Cay, Bahamas
Day 114 • explored the beach forest, took a long dinghy ride after work, fried rice and coconut cookies
Day 115 • lazy beach day, swimming and snorkeling, found another conch but it looked “off”, spotted a couple of flashes from what appeared to be little glowing fish
Day 116 • got licked by the tongue of the ocean, saw a waterspout, tossed out the Cuban yoyo but the tuna said no no, filled up on fried carbs and seafood, looking forward to leaving this anchorage as soon as possible
Frazier’s Hog Cay to Nassau, Bahamas
Day 117 • attempted to grab a coffee and see the sights this morning but everything was closed (found a mango and some cake instead), pleasantly surprised at the grocery store (great produce selection with decent prices), left for a new anchorage (took three times to find a location we could stomach)
Nassau to Rose Island, Bahamas
Day 118 • rough and rolly all day, dodged some thunderstorms, a change of plans, excited to check out this part of the island
Rose Island to Alice Town, Eleuthera, Bahamas
Day 119 • cooked and cleaned, island chickens, beach dogs, baby kitties
Day 120 • each evening we emerge from our work cave, dinghy to shore, crawl up the dock, take a walk around the village, and cheers to the beach with a Kalik
Day 121 • it’s too windy to leave the boat unattended (highest winds we’ve experienced while anchored), thankfully our anchor has never dragged (unlike some other boats here in the harbor…)
Day 122 • the sweetest little hug, five dollar wing snacks, hung out at Boater’s Haven with books and burgers, belly rubs and chin scratches for Miss Tild’s 15th birthday
Day 123 • lazy morning with rain and books, visited the land animals, chilled out with some fellow sailors
Day 124 • morning coffee at the beach, more climbing up stuff, a hot hike for water, lots of little fishies
Day 125 • a return to where we first fell in love with beach dogs, shallow water swimming, the sound of drum beats lured us towards shore in the dark of night but dissipated before we were able to reach land
Alice Town to Governor’s Harbour, Eleuthera, Bahamas
Day 126 • a warm morning walk, got bit by a dog, the toilet broke
Day 127 • continued our quest for a tiny fan, pastries and warm “chicken patty” meat pockets, a sweaty hike to the laundromat and back, found Kaliks featuring a favorite fruit, cooled off in the sea
Day 128 • more meat pockets and a cheese danish, Friday night fish fry, chicken dinners and limboympians, pure joy watching others get low, rum bubbas and the rum bubba song
Day 129 • coffee and pastries, a long walk to the plant preserve, so many turtles (with pictures), lunch out beachside, a burger and a big salad with beets, hitchhiked home, refreshed with a swim, spent the evening chilling
Day 130 • one of the many perks to Novie’s shallow draft is our ability to nearly beach the boat when anchoring, emphasis on beach - no packing a bag and trekking to the nearest stretch of sand, just jump in and enjoy
Day 131 • the anchorage was rollier than we cared for today and the lack of a breeze made for a warm day, enjoyed an afternoon swim and an evening walk
Day 132 • set the stern anchor to help battle the rolls, a low tide shelling, the long awaited shipment of ice cream finally arrived
Day 133 • while nearly beaching a boat is neat, actually hitting bottom is not - today was full of adjustments as we dealt with storms and the never-ending swell that rocks us side to side; we ended up moving an anchorage over and spent the evening eating lamb on a catamaran while sharing some great stories
Day 134 • this morning the Hats went to the casino to make a money transfer, shared a refreshing coconut boba, and picked up even more meat pockets before heading home for a day of work followed by some boat projects and chill time in the cockpit with our new plant Phil
Day 135 • joined the early morning crowd gathered for the mail boat, our fan replacement arrived, watched others enjoy the Friday night fish fry from the comfort of our home
Day 136 • these two bougie sailors fixed the toilet, cleaned the boat, hung a basil plant, hitchhiked to and from the farm for fresh produce, enjoyed cliffside cocktails followed by rib and steak dinners out on a picnic table under the sun
Day 137 • separate slow mornings (a documentary for one and a book for the other), green curry with fresh veggies, scrubbed the growth off the waterline, an evening walk and floral portraits
Day 138 • moved back to our original anchorage, tried to get drinking water but there were too many people, tried to get shower water but too many bees, made the best little BBQ chicken pizzas
Day 139 • Bahamas now and then. Little did we know back in 2022 that the act of looking out across this very harbor would set off a chain of events leading us back to this exact spot years later, only this time in our own boat. Today was spent lugging 25 gallons of water, 12 gallons of gas, several cases of beer, a load of laundry and two backpacks full of groceries home by foot and dinghy. This is the reality of cruising on a budget. However, in with the tide came several rays, big and small, and an assortment of tropical fish, making it all worth while.
Day 140 • a casual day of sailing on candy-colored water (however a little too wavy to work comfortably down below), we’re settled at the edge of the sound which is similar in size to our training lake in Nebraska
Governor’s Harbour to Rock Sound, Eleuthera, Bahamas
Day 141 • a quick sail within the anchorage to change position, joined new friends on their spacious boat for drinks and fun conversation, took a brief tour of town before the sun set
Day 142 • worked, cleaned the boat a bit, went into town for some ice but everything was closed, currently resting up for an adventurous weekend
Day 143 • a full and fun day - walked to the market, spent most of our afternoon at the Rock Sound Homecoming, watched kids race little sailboats, bought a snack from the Gizzard Lady, drank beers in the sand, ate some jerk chicken and pork chops, hung out with friends on our boat, joined them on a trip back to town for live music, made it home just before real midnight
Day 144 • walked to the boiling hole, explored cathedral caves, saw some bats, climbed rocks, walked to the ocean hole where we met some fearless children who were eager to jump and dive with Evan
Day 145 • the homecoming festival continues on and there has been music nearly every night since our arrival, we stopped by after work and stretched our legs, back at the dock a couple of boys asked for a ride in the dinghy, Evan returned them a few minutes later with giant smiles
Day 146 • tried to go for a long walk but two barking dogs quickly turned into a pack of dogs, they followed us all the way back to the dock, we think some were probably friendly but didn’t want to risk finding out for sure
Day 147 • we are patiently waiting for a crossing window, today we went on our daily walk, checked out the grocery store and found some ice
Day 148 • took a long walk to the other side of the island, checked out Pink Beach and a very wavy Atlantic, bumped into some friendly dogs and a glowing crab this time
Day 149 • we’re prepping to leave - enjoyed a scenic little lunch, carried loads of laundry to a closed laundromat and back, grabbed some groceries, stopped for ice cream, filled up on gas and water
Day 150 • an exhausting day of boat chores - hand-washed two loads of laundry using a single bucket on the beach, decorated Novi with an assortment of flapping clothes and sheets, carted around the final provisions of groceries, beverages and ice, sailed to our next location, finally dropped anchor as the sunset
Rock Sound to Cape Eleuthera, Eleuthera, Bahamas
Day 151 • we made it to the Exumas! while we failed to catch a fish during the crossing we did see a pod of whales, navigating the narrow channels lined with coral was a little stressful, we are now anchored next to an island inhabited by endangered iguanas
Cape Eleuthera, Eleuthera to Allan’s Cay, Exumas, Bahamas
Day 152 • morning beach coffee with lazy lizards, moved anchorages but can’t escape the rolling
Allan’s Cay to Norman’s Cay, Exumas, Bahamas
Day 153 • we’re anchored in the Exuma Cays Land and Sea park, however due to weather and work we were not able to get off the boat today, luckily some nature came to us
Norman’s Cay to Shroud Cay, Exumas, Bahamas
Day 154 • morning coffee on a tiny beach, dinghy exploration and an afternoon excursion to the washing machine, swam in the current, climbed up to the lookout, on the way home we saw several sea turtles
Day 155 • the spray, crashing and near constant 15° lean while sailing upwind coupled with issues from our main motor made for some salty (and crusty) sailors today
Shroud Cay to Warderick Wells Cay, Exumas, Bahamas
Day 156 • a quick morning hike, lots of work, spotted a large nurse shark, a waterspout and someone we recognize from Instagram all while doing dishes
Day 157 • decorated our found piece of driftwood, hiked up to the top of boo boo hill, left our offering, checked out some whale bones, had a picnic lunch, spent the afternoon lounging in partially submerged beach chairs
Day 158 • went snorkeling for a screwdriver, got some steps in while dodging poisonwood trees on a very hot hike, cooled off at the beach, packed up and spent another afternoon lounging in pool water
Day 159 • we finally went snorkeling for real
Warderick Wells Cay to O’Briens Cay, Bahamas
Day 160 • a real shower followed by happy hour with a view - the joys of being clean and not having to cook
O’Briens Cay to Black Point, Exumas, Bahamas
Day 161 • early morning route planning and invoicing at the laundromat, bought some coconut bread before heading home to work, found the tiny shell motherload, visited a blowhole, enjoyed dockside drinks with a couple of sharks and rays (the rocket launch was from last night)
Day 162 • today marked the *hopeful* end of upwind sailing for a long time - it was a hard day for the captain with challenging cuts to navigate, the first mate worked below until they could no longer stomach to do so, and the admiral’s desires to walk the deck were in need of constant correction
Black Point to Stocking Island, Exumas, Bahamas
Day 163 • we moved within the harbour a bit, caught up on work, saw people dangle from a helicopter, stayed in and watched TV
Stocking Island to George Town, Exumas, Bahamas
Day 164 • coconut bread french toast, moved the boat, hiked up Monument Hill and down to the beach, frozen drinks and stingrays at chat ‘n’ chill, checked out George Town, visited the straw market, bought a souvenir, more drinkies and chicken wings, got soaked on the long dinghy ride home, sunset hammock time
George Town to Stocking Island, Exumas, Bahamas
Day 165 • climbed up to the monument again this time for an aerial photo, hiked to the bubble bath and played in the pools, the tiny shell collection is turning micro, prepped some salads for the week, lots of hammock and floaty time, played a board game together, practiced guitar, early to bed
Day 166 • a computery day, lots of work and research, managed to get the paddle board out and enjoyed the beach for a bit
Day 167 • went our separate ways in order to complete our prep for tomorrow’s departure, pleasantly surprised by the ease and affordability of healthcare here, treated ourselves to lunch out, scraped the furry sludge off the hull
Day 168 • a mostly unpleasant day dealing with large following waves and not feeling the best, learned to time our cuts better after going through a rager, enjoyed conversation with a couple who spent seven years circumnavigating
Stocking Island to Black Point, Exumas, Bahamas
Day 169 • work and chores as usual, spotted lots of sharks, spent time socializing on a boat that has gone around the world twice
Day 170 • snorkeled in the grotto, grabbed a drink at the yacht club, felt the grainy texture of a nurse shark
Black Point to Staniel Cay, Exumas, Bahamas
Day 171 • packed a picnic for the beach, spent the day floating in the bubble bath, hung out with a baby lemon shark and little tropical fish, took a nap
Staniel Cay to Compass Cay, Exumas, Bahamas
Day 172 • said goodbye to the Exumas, it was a long, hot and nearly windless day, we were visited by a couple of chirpy birds, went to bed super early
Compass Cay, Exumas to Rock Sound, Eleuthera, Bahamas
Day 173 • woke up to our new bird friends chattering above, finished our provisioning early and decided to move on, another hot and still day on the water, went for a sweaty walk, cooled off with a swim
Rock Sound to Governor’s Harbour, Eleuthera, Bahamas
Day 174 • today was the third travel day in a row where the *same* two birds have landed on the mast as soon as we anchor, they like to drop perfectly clean little seeds among other less clean things onto the deck, they can’t be the same set of birds each time, right?
Governor’s Harbour to Hatchet Bay, Eleuthera, Bahamas
Day 175 • the birds returned but perched on a neighbor’s boat instead, pretty sure their seeds are not gifts from the beak but rather projectiles from the butt - we took a short walk around town before retiring to our floating sweat lodge
Hatchet Bay to Spanish Wells, Eleuthera, Bahamas
Day 176 • it has been a while since we’ve endured a 12-hour passage, this one included a thunderstorm with lightning in the distance, we’ve pushed hard for five days to get here - there’s a birthday to celebrate this weekend
Spanish Wells, Eleuthera to Hope Town, The Abacos, Bahamas
Day 177 • wrapped up work projects before the long holiday weekend, read books at the pool, had a fun time at the conch salad bar
Day 178 • today was spent celebrating the captain’s birthday - morning coffee, an afternoon at the pool, drinks by the ocean, more scorched conch and burgers to go
Day 179 • we marinated in the pool all day long, so much so that we even tended to our laundry during, we are down to one phone now, so the photo production is taking a hit
Day 180 • attempted to cool off with an original Goombay smash (no photos due to heat-induced delirium), checked out the sculpture garden before grabbing two bags of ice and rushing them home to the boat
Hope Town to Green Turtle Cay, The Abacos, Bahamas
Day 181 • another 12+ hour travel day, took turns alternating between piloting the boat and running the business, at one point, we were quickly passed by a group of small racing catamarans
Green Turtle Cay to Great Sale Cay, The Abacos, Bahamas
Day 182 • woke up to pigs on the beach, dodged a squall, filled up on fuel, prepped the boat for crossing the Gulf Stream, took one last dip in the sea
Great Sale Cay to West End, Grand Bahama, Bahamas
Day 183 • compared to previous crossings, this one was decent (swell, squalls, rain, too much sun, a rough inlet) however, we are still exhausted, barely celebrated with dinner out and draft beers
West End, Bahamas to Jensen Beach, Florida
