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Looking pensively into the deep—
very deep—cobalt blue waters of
the Gulf Stream on my passage to the
Bahamas gave me both a sense of
melancholy and of optimism. I was
making the crossing on my boat not
only from one country to another but
also symbolically from one part of my
life to another. This voyage was in my
head for years and kept me going
while I worked through a painful family
situation and, concurrently, the
made it through to deeper water with
no problems.
From there to Marsh Harbour was
a two-day run in some of the most
beautiful water on Earth. The colors
were brown, white, blue and green
and that iridescent turquoise that took
your breath away. To add to the magic,
dolphins came alongside Liberty to
welcome us and to play in our wake.
The cays (pronounced keys) are
each separated by that beautiful water,
fresh 15- to 20-knot breeze our bow
rose up and settled down with a pitching
motion I had not experienced
before. Ahead, the early morning sun
was directly in our eyes blocking
much of our vision of what lay ahead,
and salt spray was being blown into
our faces. I had the helm and Lee was
standing beside me giving me guidance
on the passage.
I looked ahead, and in the blinding
morning sun, I could make out
The Stream &
The Whale—
Crossings
By John Galloway
John and Lee on arrival in Marsh Harbour after going through The Whale.
breaking up and sale of my family
business. Surely, something this beautiful
foretold of renewal, exploration
and a new world not yet experienced...and
it lay just ahead over the
horizon.
Being a single-handed sailor for
years, I finally succumbed to the relative
ease of running a powerboat, and
I ran solo on my 36-foot trawler Liberty
from Tampa to Key Biscayne where
my buddy Lee Culbreath joined me.
We took our first shot at crossing the
Gulf Stream on Saturday, but a little
way out, we realized it was way too
rough, and we turned back to fight
another day. The seas were like lumpy
mashed potatoes, except that they
were dark blue and were moving in
several different directions at once.
The next day was indeed better,
and we made it across the Gulf Stream
in about 10 hours in relatively calmer
waters. Approaching the Great
Bahama Bank near West End, our
water depth changed from about 2000
feet to about seven feet of water in
about a 10-minute period. The water
was no longer cobalt blue but a shimmering
iridescent turquoise. Lee
knew the unmarked channel and we
and each island stands out individually
like a painting hanging in an art
gallery. We later tied up overnight at
Green Turtle Cay in anticipation of the
next day’s challenging crossing of
“The Whale.”
Crossing The Whale is the crossing
where legend meets fear and often
brings about a questioning of your
judgment for being in this part of the
Bahamas. Just south of Green Turtle
Cay there is Whale Cay, and because
the water is so shallow there in the Sea
of Abaco, you have to go outside in the
Atlantic a few miles and then come
back in on the other side of Whale Cay
back into the Sea of Abaco. If the ocean
swells are big and breaking, it is called
a “rage” and you do not pass through
for fear of broaching and losing your
boat. The marine radio is usually
buzzing with people wanting to know
how The Whale is on any given day
before they make their passage, but we
were there very early so we were the
first boat through and had no knowledge
of the conditions.
Approaching The Whale I noticed
the seas were building, and we were
rolling more than usual. Turning to
port directly into the seas and into the
something I could not understand. It
looked like a short, wide wall but
moving around from side to side. Lee
said they were breaking seas, and we
should adjust our timing to go when
the seas directly in front of us were not
breaking too bad. About this time, I
am thinking that stamp collecting
would be a much more appropriate
hobby for me than being out here
doing this. But with my male ego
telling me I can’t possibly look like
a…well, you know…I gave the throttle
a shot and put the bow directly into
the seas. As the boat rose up into the 6-
to 8-foot swells—and then quickly
down into the troughs—I kept us moving
forward, dodging the breakers as
best I could. Liberty took the seas
directly on the bow and pushed them
aside as we powered through to relatively
calmer waters on the other side
of the breakers. Looking back at the
breakers that were now behind us
made me shudder.
As nerve-racking as the seas were,
the greatest danger would have been
from me had I done something stupid
like slowing down or turning side-
See CROSSINGS continued on page 76
78 September 2010 SOUTHWINDS www.southwindsmagazine.com