Last night was horrible. Anchored, in what we thought was a pretty damn protected bay. But alas, as it always seems to happen, the side swell came up something fierce. Just for the record, this always happens after dusk while Ashley is making dinner and immediately after another boat has anchored way too close within an arms reach. I’m unsure if it’s just the Bahamas being generally unusually tide-y or our just amateur skills at choosing anchor locations. On the note of side swell, I still find it incredible that the ocean may be producing waves in one direction but as soon as they hit the edge of a (protected) bay, they wrap around sometimes beyond 90 degrees to the direction they were travelling originally.
Nonetheless, we didn’t sleep much last night while the boat bobbed side-to-side and continued on a wild merry-go-round, circling around our anchor both in forward, reverse and sideways. We have a pornstar-like anchor (Rocna) which hardly fits on our bow so that is some consolation. But there is always that tiny memory of another couple we met, also on a Lagoon 410, who had anchored in the next bay over. While happily exchanging stories and enjoying drinks in our cockpit one of them noticed a Lagoon 410 slowly going backwards, out to sea. After few short “Is that our boat?….It looks like our boat….Can’t be…..It’s our boat!…..shit….f*….we gotta go…” they quickly zoomed over and got on board and started their engines. The problem? Their chain had wrapped around the arm of their (Rocna) anchor multiple times tripping it. Long story short, we’re not big fans of the merry-go-round while at anchor. A heavy blow from one direction, no problem.
I know it may seem that working from a boat is perfect and all. But hey, sometimes there’s technical issues. The biggest one getting connected to the World Wide Web. Just yesterday I found that hoisting a cell phone half way up the mast can make all the difference in the world. From painfully waiting for emails to seeing them fly by….
We hiked to a blue hole – A brackish pond which has no bottom. It’s very eery free diving down into the blackness of this thing. You have no visual reference. You don’t know how deep you’ve dove other than your chest heaving, telling you it needs oxygen. How deep does this thing go? What’s down there?
We got suited up with camera, weight belt and snork.
And went to investigate..
Turns out not much happens in a blue hole. It lacks oxygen so most fish can’t survive. Just some algae some clams and us.