Thursday, May 26th

I pulled anchor in Georgetown and eased Celtic Cross out through the cut at the northwest end of Elizabeth Harbor, turning her bow north toward Eleuthera. One hundred twenty-five miles in total, but I decided to break it into two legs.

Crossing Exuma Sound was everything you hope for on an open-water reach. The wind and seas were both out of the east, 15–20 knots steady. The swell was on the beam — spaced about four seconds apart.

At one point she stretched her legs to 7.5 knots. Great sailing.

As I made my way across the Sound, the seas gradually laid down to a gentler one to two feet. You could feel the system easing. I knew the forecast called for the wind to soften overnight, and I didn’t want to be ghosting along in the dark.

So instead of pressing on, as I tuned into Davis Channel at the end of Eluethera Cape, I peeled off towards shore just north of Chub Rock. Around 2:30 a.m., I dropped anchor in about 15 feet of water. Quiet. Slight roll.

I slept until 6 a.m.

At first light, coffee on, anchor up, and the final 36 miles unfolded easily toward Hatchet Bay. The wind had dropped to 5 knots. Not enough to sail, so I motored and charged my batteries from the alternator to 100 percent.

Two legs. Good breeze. Open water behind me. Hatchet Bay ahead.

Hatchet Bay sits on the northern end of Eleuthera, and the entrance looks like it was blown straight out of the rock.

A 20–25-foot rock cliff rises on either side, with maybe a 100-foot slit carved clean through it. From offshore, it doesn’t look like a harbor. It looks like a mistake in the stone. The first time you line up to take a sailboat through there, it gets your blood flowing.

But as a friend reminded me, the mail boat runs in and out of that cut all the time. Last night I saw a large car ferry from Nassau exit through the cut. So it just takes a steady hand on the wheel and some confidence.

Once you clear the rock walls, it opens suddenly up to harbor — about half a mile wide — with a sandy, muddy bottom and protection nearly all the way around. For swell to make its way inside, it would have to be blowing hard out in the Sound. It’s the complete opposite of Elizabeth Harbor when a southeast swell sneaks in and sets everything to rolling.

Here, it’s calm. Quiet. Contained.

There isn’t much in Hatchet Bay — a government dock and a small store/bar called Boater’s Haven. I pulled the dinghy up there yesterday afternoon to explore. As I was circling, looking for a place to tie off, a man walked down the dock and called out, asking where I thought I was going.

“I’m the dockmaster,” he said.

A few seconds later he started laughing. Just pulling my leg.

His name’s Etienne.

He helped me secure the dinghy, then gave me the unofficial walking tour. Turns out I’d landed near a neighborhood called The Bottom. He pointed out the small grocery store and walked with me over. I bought us each a Kalik (official beer of the Bahamas) to properly continue the tour.

He showed me a couple of restaurants within walking distance — Twin Brothers which, he said, had been featured on several network food shows. That’s where I ended up having dinner last night.

He also introduced me to his uncle Emmett, the owner/bartender at Boater’s Haven.

More on Uncle Emmett later.

For now, Hatchet Bay feels like the other end of the spectrum from Georgetown. Just still water inside a rock wall and the kind of place where you go to relax.

It’s a good landing after a 125-mile run.