ThisTravel. Central America.

Life Lessons from Crossing the Gulf Stream

My Trip from Florida to the Bahamas on a Sailboat.

I had only started sailing in the previous 6 months, helping the real Sailor move his Cheoy Lee designed sailboat, Blown Away from Rhode Island to Florida on weekends, a good way to social distance and be outside, although a tad cold. I still confused “port” with “starboard.”

If I had learned anything in the past 4 years, it is:

Say “Yes”

This applies to life. Say yes whenever possible. You only get one life. Live it.

I spent too long in a rut. I was waiting to live. I committed to saying yes to any and all adventures that came my way. This includes: portaging in the Boundary Waters of Canada, handling reindeer, going to tech school, starting my own business, and now…crossing the Gulf Stream on a sailboat.

True confessions — the boat has a motor and we used it.

I call him the Sailor because I do not know enough to sail on my own; I simply follow instructions. He was acting as the captain and I was the first mate, but as friends, we avoided those titles. This is lesson number two:

Be Coachable

Our passage would require us to cross the Gulf Stream, a warm current of water running from the Gulf of Mexico through the Atlantic up to Canada. It pushes North as we were attempting to cruise South. Its presence was first charted by Benjamin Franklin.

From the Yucatán Channel northeast through the Florida Straits, the Stream attains impressive proportions. This “river” in the sea is ninety-five miles wide, it is a mile deep, it flows with a velocity of nearly three knots, and its volume is that of several hundred Mississippis. — Rachel Carson

The trip from Lake Worth, in Florida to the West End of the Abacos is about 50 nautical miles. We had been watching the weather and it looked like it would be smooth sailing for a day or two if we left early.

We anchored in Lake Worth, near North Palm Beach on the final evening of February, after boating down the Inner Coastal Waterway, and put out a call on the VHF radio for any boaters who would be interested in joining us to make the crossing to the Bahamas. We got a reply and a request to jump to another channel almost immediately.

“Do you have any kids on board?” was the first question they put to us, after identifying ourselves. We were hearing from a woman on the Dawn Treader.

They were on their way to The Berrys aboard a catamaran. We sail a 36-foot Luder’s and hoped to drop anchor in the West End. We estimated the passage would take 8 hours, but all our estimates depended on the weather, like so much of sailing.

They were leaving at midnight and it was close to 9 p.m. when we started talking.

According to reports from Chris Parker, a weather consultant/forecaster followed by boaters, the captain of the Dawn Treader felt she needed to leave as soon as possible and encouraged us to do the same.

What?! We were planning on leaving early, but more like 5 a.m., not midnight. We both agreed that we would be no good without sleep.

I asked for more information. Where did the Sailor, get his forecasts? Had they changed since he last checked? We looked at them together. Why did Chris Parker make this claim?

We double-checked Windy.app, the application we use for weather forecasting, as well as PredictWind. We contacted the service we had used to bring the boat down the ICW, Commander Weather.

Our apps agreed; the wind would pick up to between 10–15 knots, but that was not prohibitive. Heck, we had motored through 28 knots, not pleasantly, but successfully.

Chris Parker’s prediction was not for us; our route was different and we did not have a catamaran with kids aboard. The Dawn Treader had different considerations.

Your journey is unique

No one else is navigating your route in the same vessel.

A catamaran is not a sailboat. The Berrys are further south than the West End. We did not have children on board to consider.

I am a single woman working in a male-dominated field. Somedays, I feel like a tugboat amidst a fleet of freight carriers, then I remember, those cargo carriers need tugboats.

I never thought I would be in this career or transversing the Gulf Stream. Our journeys are unique to each of us.

I went to sleep a tad concerned, determined to get up earlier, but still convinced we could make the passage.

We were prepared. We felt ready.

Taking the Dawn Treader’s admonition into consideration, we got a few hours of sleep and at 3:00 a.m. we lifted anchor in the dark. It was a calm morning, navigating out of the harbor was smooth and quiet.

Choose Faith over Fear

There are no guarantees regarding any conditions in a journey. We started the motor not fully knowing what lay ahead. It looked like the next right step, so we took it.

About an hour and a half later, close to sunrise, we hit the Gulf Stream. The Sailor added 15 degrees south to his points on the chart to compensate for the Gulf Stream’s northerly push. I could feel the change as the boat rocked a bit.

The water was a deep navy blue when the sun rose. Almost unbelievably blue. There were no birds to be seen, not a tern or a seagull, pelican, anywhere. At times, there was nothing but water, rarely any other boats.

Earlier in the week, a workman at Sea Love Marina in Ponce Inlet, FL, shared with us his experience spending 4 hours in the water as a 15-year old when his uncle’s boat sank. He refused to be in open water ever since.

I didn’t share that fear.

I wondered if it would come once I lost sight of land, but discovered open water to be a calming presence.

The world is huge, but out in nature, I know my place in it. I am both puny and significant. I belong but I am not a monumental force. I took it in.

Live in the Moment

Surrounded by only water, I didn’t fear. Water is something and we were being held. We saw a USCG cutter on the starboard side and a freight carrier pass on the port side in eight hours. I sat on the deck and breathed. This is what it is like to move through open water, I thought. I felt the wind, I smelled a little diesel, the boat rode each wave and rocked slightly side to side.

I thought about my job, my community, Covid. I would not always be here, but I want to appreciate it while I am. On this journey, change is the only constant. Today, on the open sea I have everything I need.

We put up the jib and mizzen and took some wind on the nose starting around 10 a.m. We used the motor to maintain speed at about 7 knots, which is the most efficient for this boat.

The Sailor threw out a fishing line with a few hours to go. Of course, we were under full sail when a barracuda tugged. We furled the jib, slowed the motor and he showed me how to reel it in. It flashed every time it came to the top of a wave, then dove under the waves and fought the line.

It had to be 2 feet of solid muscle and when my Sailor grabbed it tightly and took it off the hook, I turned down the opportunity to hold it. Those teeth are impressive and the last thing I wanted was a flopping wrestling match on board.

Honestly, sighting West End in the Bahamas was a bit anti-climatic. Dots appeared and then morphed into houses. Maybe, I had a sigh of relief, but I had been expecting more drama, excitement, weather since our previous day’s exchange with the Dawn Treader. Instead, I had a day’s sail across fairly calm water.

I created some drama by dropping a bumper in the harbor as we were preparing to dock. Grabbing the hook, the Sailor fished it out. This is the final lesson from my Gulf Stream crossing.

Choose Good Companions

Ultimately, it was a delightful day of sailing.

These lessons — saying ‘yes,’ remaining open to coaching, realizing your journey is unique, embracing the moment, choosing faith and a worthy companion can be applied to life as well as your next adventure, perhaps crossing the Gulf Stream.

May it be as delightful as mine.

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