I'm back on the boat and staged in Bimini, Bahamas after crossing over from Nassau last week.

The plan is to sit here and wait for a weather window to move on to Florida. For now, the pattern has been consistent—northeast to north winds holding steady, with a few stronger pushes mixed in. A few days ago it built into the 40-knot range.

Despite that, the anchorage has held up well. It’s protected enough that there’s been very little motion—mostly just wind through the rigging and the occasional reminder of what’s happening outside.

Conditions have settled slightly since then, but the overall pattern hasn’t shifted much. Still waiting.

After a few weeks away from the boat, it’s been a straightforward reset—systems checked, everything back online, and back into the rhythm of watching weather again.

For now, it’s just a matter of timing the next move.

📝Harbor Notes

I’m anchored on the east side of North Bimini in what’s commonly referred to as the Bimini North Anchorage.

Access is straightforward but narrow. You come down to the southern end of North Bimini, enter through the channel there, then run back up along the east side through a man-made canal. It’s tight in spots, but manageable, and it eventually opens up into a wider basin near the casino and hotel.

The anchorage itself sits in about 17–18 feet and is well protected, especially from the north. That’s mattered this week.

The first night, we had 25–30 knots come through. I didn’t have enough scope out and ended up dragging about 25–30 feet overnight. Nothing dramatic, but enough to get my attention. The next day I reset with more rode and gave myself room to swing properly. No issues since.

There’s decent access ashore. Several marinas are within reach, and you can get to groceries and basic services without much trouble. The casino is right there if that’s your thing. Not really mine, but it’s hard to miss—and not cheap. Beer was running around $10.

For staging a crossing or waiting on weather, it’s a solid spot. Protected, accessible, and easy enough to work in and out of once you know the approach.

While I was in Austin in March, I had a chance to reconnect with some old friends and play music again with the Dale West band.

I moved next door to Dale in July of 2020 when I first got to Austin. One of the reasons I moved there was to get better—play with musicians who were further along than I was. I got lucky. Dale had been in the Austin scene for years, a working singer-songwriter, and he welcomed me in right away.

At the time, I was pretty limited—mostly banjo, a little guitar. During the tail end of COVID, before things opened back up, we’d spend weekends playing together, spaced out in the yard, just working through songs. Eventually that turned into playing a few local venues. It was the first time I’d ever really been part of a band.

So getting back together with them this March meant a lot.

One of the songs we always came back to was Paradise by John Prine. It’s one of those songs that settles into a group—everyone knows where it goes, and you don’t have to think too much about it.

Mike, our fiddle player, brought along a couple of instruments, including one called a Stroh—basically a fiddle run through a horn, giving it a really distinct, almost brassy edge. Not something you hear every day.

He also handed me an electric violin to play. It wasn’t even plugged in—just acoustic through the body—but it didn’t matter. We weren’t there for the setup. Just the chance to play together again.

We rolled through Paradise like we used to.

Here’s a recording from that afternoon.

Not much in the way of major projects this week—mostly getting the boat back online after sitting for about a month.

The run over from Nassau to Bimini was an overnight, about 20 hours all in. No issues underway. Systems all behaved the way they should, which is always what you’re hoping for after time away.

Since getting here, it’s been a reset. Going through everything, checking systems, making sure nothing was missed before I left. A bit of cleaning and reorganizing—putting things back where they belong.

Today was more of a full field day. Cleaned both heads, vacuumed, wiped everything down. Just getting the boat back into a state where it feels ready again.

I did rewire the loudspeaker/hailer and got it operational. Tested it in the anchorage—it’s working well. I’ve got it mounted under the solar panels for now. Ideally, I’d like it higher up on the mast for better range, probably on the spreaders, but that’ll have to wait until there’s a reason to pull the mast and clear out some of the old wiring runs. Space is tight up there.

Other than that, just small things—cleaning the deck, touching up some brightwork.

Everything is working as it should. Boat’s in good shape and ready for the next move once the weather lines up.

It’s good to be back on the boat.

I didn’t realize how much I needed the break until I took it. A few days with friends in Austin, then out to Hawaii to spend time with my son. I was there about a week and a half, just hanging out, no real agenda. That time mattered more than I expected.

Being away gave me some space to think about what I actually want to do next.

For a while, I had been planning to cross the Atlantic this year. But stepping back from it, it started to feel like I was pushing toward something instead of choosing it. It’s a long passage to get to Europe—and then there’s the return. Meanwhile, there are still places closer to home that I haven’t really explored.

So I’m not going across this year.

Instead, I’m heading north.

Last summer gave me a glimpse of what’s up there—Nova Scotia, the coastline, the pace of it. I got there late and never had enough time to really settle in. This year I want to do it differently. Get there earlier. Take my time moving up through Nova Scotia, past Halifax, and out toward Cape Breton and Prince Edward Island. Maybe even push as far as Newfoundland if the season allows.

Cape Breton, especially, has been on my mind. The Celtic music tradition there runs deep—fiddles, small halls, local sessions that aren’t put on for visitors so much as they’re just part of life. It’s the kind of place where the music isn’t a performance, it’s just happening. I want to spend some time around that and see what I find.

It feels like the right call. Less about distance, more about depth.

For now, I’m back on the boat, getting things ready, waiting on a window to head for Florida and start working my way north again.