Tuesday I made the crossing from Hatchet Bay, Eleuthera over to Nassau on New Providence Island. I’d spent about four days tucked into Hatchet Bay and it was time to move on, partly because I needed to be in Nassau ahead of a flight the following week and partly because a private dock had opened up for me on the southwestern side of the island.

The wind that morning was light out of the east. I set the mizzen ballooner and the genoa, which is usually a reliable light-air combination on Celtic Cross, but there just wasn’t enough breeze to keep the speed up. Since I wanted to be tied up by about 4 p.m., I ended up motor-sailing for most of the passage. Had I been sailing more than 6 hours, I would have considered flying the genoa and ballooner poled out for the downwind run.

The seas were running about two to three feet and following me the whole way, so it was an easy ride even if it wasn’t the kind of sail where the boat really stretches her legs. One of those days where the engine lends the wind a little help and the miles slide by steadily toward the dock.

📝Harbor Notes

I’m currently tied up at a dock on the southwestern side of New Providence. I’ve stayed here before—two seasons ago I spent nearly a full month tied up here while I was transitioning between roles at work. At the time the job demanded most of my attention, so sailing wasn’t really on the agenda. Having the boat secured at a dock, with grocery stores within walking distance, made life a lot easier for both me and the crew who were with me then.

The dock itself is privately owned by a couple who have lived here for more than sixty years. I won’t mention their names, because the place operates almost entirely by invitation. Generally, you only tie up here if you already know someone who has stayed before. I was fortunate to get an introduction two years ago when one of our crew members had previously stayed here and reached out as a blow was moving through the area.

Over time, a kind of informal family of cruisers has formed around this dock. Many of the boats that come through have known each other for years, sometimes decades. This week we were visited by a skipper who has been coming here for forty years. He first arrived on a sailboat with his wife and later returned many seasons on a trawler. His wife passed away within the last year, and this trip was meant to be his last visit to the Bahamas before selling the boat. He stopped here one more time to see old friends and say goodbye. It was a touching moment for everyone who gathered on the dock that evening.

Life here has its own rhythm. Every day at five o’clock people wander down for an informal happy hour. Someone brings rum drinks, someone else a bottle of wine, and everyone sets out a few snacks to share. I usually bring my guitar along, and it tends to make the rounds as the sun goes down. It’s a simple routine, but over time it’s created something special—a small, welcoming community built around a quiet dock and a shared love of the water.