Leaving Fort Lauderdale was incredibly hard. We had lived in the US for almost six years, and made lifelong friends. We were leaving it all for the unknown. Our plan was to sail to Sydney, and see if we liked it. Before we left for the States we lived in Perth, but Alison’s parents moved to the Eastern States while we were away.
We left on the morning of the 31 Jan, 2002, bound for Miami. We had spent the evening before with our friends Dan and Lindsay, finishing the keg from the going away party and making our goodbyes. Now all our friends and everyone from the marina we had lived in for the last couple of years lined the dock and waved as we motored down the canal for the last time.
Through the day we motored and sailed the twenty or so miles down the ICW. I tried my best to act cheerful, but I don’t think it worked, and Alison was a mess. The anxiety we felt about heading off on our first ocean voyage compounded our sadness at leaving. Calling for bridge openings, tracking our progress and sailing where possible helped to take our minds off our feelings, but they were never far from the surface.
Near Miami there is an anchorage called the Seaquarium that is sheltered on all sides and is not too far from the channel through the reef to the sea. The used to do water-ski and dolphin shows there. The Seaquarium is a beautiful spot, directly across the bay from Miami city, but is not as popular as it was because some people were murdered there. We anchored in plenty of time (well offshore) and made some last minute preparations for sailing across the Gulf Stream. While we tied everything down, packed towels around the dishes, and shackled the cockpit lockers shut, I thought of the crossing ahead.
The first trip we made across the Gulf Stream was in a rented Hunter 33, falling off fifteen foot square waves in a thirty knot northerly. The Gulf Stream is only about 40 miles wide there, but runs at up to five knots and does not like an opposing wind. The first time we did it in True Blue we had paid someone to remove our old manual bilge pump for replacement and he left the pipe from the stern hanging in the bilge. As the wind got up about 3am the boat leaned over and took on water. Al got up to go to the loo while I was up on watch and stepped into ankle deep water. We panicked for a bit, ripped everything out of the lockers and finally found the problem and pumped out, but scared the hell out of ourselves. Alison was seasick for the rest of that passage. We were always nervous crossing to the Bahamas.
Once we finished preparing we sat in the cockpit. It was a beautiful night, and the lights of the city were reflected in the water as we looked back across Biscayne Bay. We took this time to relax, not talking much, made a quiet dinner, listened to the weather, and then went to sleep.
The next morning one last check of the weather revealed perfect conditions. We planned to sail for the top of the Bimini group, into the NW Providence Channel, and wait at the northernmost island in the Berry Islands for a good time to sail for the Virgin Islands, a thousand nautical miles to the south east.

We had decided to sail directly to the Virgin Islands to avoid the upwind passages and motoring required to go there by island hopping. There are two accepted ways to get to the Eastern Caribbean- Highway 26, and the Thorny Path. Highway 26 involves sailing about 800nm East until you are pretty much north of your target. This keeps you in the variables- north of the south-easterly trade winds belt that spans about 10N to 23N latitude. You then turn south for about 600 miles, and can hopefully get to your destination without tacking.
The Thorny Path involves island-hopping down the Bahamas, Turks and Caicos, Over to Hispaniola, then using the land breeze effect in the mornings to get upwind. This takes months, and is called the Thorny Path in honour of all the reefs in the way. We had already seen a lot of the Bahamas, so we decided to go the offshore route.
In the end the passage to the Berry Islands was very calm. We had about 10kn of south wind through the day, which was enough to sail without motoring, We used the current to make our northing, and made good time, making our turn north of Bimini about midnight. We sat watches- Al stayed up from 8-11pm, it was me from 11-2am, and Al again from 2-5am, and me from 5-8am. The wind got up to about 15kn in the early morning and we used it to make a tack most of the way over to Grand Bahama island. In the late morning the wind slowly died, and we motored the final 30miles or so to the Berrys over a glassy sea. We sat on the bow while the autopilot steered. The water was so clear that we could see the bottom in over 100 feet of water. We motored into the channel between the islands and anchored in a narrow sand channel behind Great Stirrup Cay. A lighthouse towered over the low lying island.
As we sat in the cockpit, in a foreign country and a passage behind us the stress of leaving began to fall away. We dived over for a swim, had a freshwater wash, and then went back to sleep.

We stayed in Great Stirrup Cay for five days, waiting for a cold front to come. Even in the middle of winter the fronts in the Bahamas are rarely very strong, and they bring north and north westerly winds. If we could get three days of strong, favourable winds you can make over four hundred miles of easting. Each four hours I was glued to the shortwave radio with a pencil in hand, jotting down the coastguard weather report. This was difficult at first because the computer voice talks faster than you can write, but I eventually developed a shorthand that allowed me to get it all down.
The days passed slowly, with the peace being shattered occasionally by jet-skis from the cruise ships that would anchor off the beach on the north side of the island. It was hot despite being winter.
Finally we had the news were waiting for. A weak cold front was coming. Mares’ tails streaked the sky to the north. It was time to leave on our first ocean passage.