We’ve been in Georgetown for a week, arriving just in time to provision and find a protected anchorage for the Big Blow that arrived on Sunday. There have been so many adventures since I last posted. I’d planned to fill in the blanks as time allowed and post our stories in sequence but, now, everything has changed.
On our sail to Great Exuma from Rat Cay, James discovered a crack in our mast. Bagatelle is a Freedom 30 — her mast is one long carbon fiber pole that requires no stays, nothing to get in the way on her deck or to obstruct her jib. Nothing to support a weakened mast.
She had survived Hurricane Dorian at Green Turtle Cay, Abaco in late summer of 2019 — the only boat in the yard that the wind hadn’t blown over. Her mast, however, had been lopped off by a flying object. Her owner, at the time, repaired the mast by inserting a four-foot carbon fiber sleeve at the point of the break. It seemed like a strong and reasonable fix. She was going strong like this when James purchased her four years later. The access to the spinnaker halyard had not been restored however, so, before our adventure began, James made the insert. This may have weakened the point of the original break. We have no way of knowing for sure what caused the crack but the decision was made, for safety’s sake, to motor home and not raise her sails again.
Before this event, the plan had been to sell Bagatelle and purchase a somewhat larger boat that would better accommodate our needs. James had already posted listings on several sailboat sites. We had planned to complete our winter on her and sail to many other points in the southern Bahamas before heading up to Nassau for a visit with James’ daughter, Evie. Then we would cross over to Florida, put her in storage, and look at a more suitable sailboat. Now, limited by the power of a 20 HP engine, no sails, and questionable weather, we have decided that the best, safest course is to head directly back to Florida. Meanwhile, James is offering Bagatelle at a greatly reduced price and fielding inquiries from around the globe. While we hope that she finds a worthy new home and are looking toward the future, the losses are many: financial, of course, but also the cutting short of this particular adventure, and missing out on time spent with Evie. This only begins to describe it. We’re aware of how fortunate we are but, still, it’s heartbreaking.
Morning walk to the other side of the island to walk on the beach and watch the big waves. Mesmerizing!
Since discovering the damaged mast on February 2, there have been several twists and turns, great joys and huge challenges. It seems to me that we are in a tempest of growth and learning, and imagine that the greatest lessons won’t become evident until this is storm is far behind us. I think I can speak for both of us when I say that we’re grateful for the safe harbor here in Georgetown, knowledgable and supportive friends we’ve met in the sailing community along the way, and the understanding and support of our family and friends back in Canada and the US. Perhaps more than anything, I am particularly grateful to be on this adventure with a man who, through it all, has remained patient, positive, steady and kind — even as the boat tosses about in the wild wind and waves.
The clouds continue to be jaw-dropping. Like the waves and the water, I cannot get enough.