Across the Yellow Bank into a wall Lindsay McRory June 16, 1996 We met a fellow in Nassau who takes honors for being the first person to bring his computer and job on the boat with him. Somehow he managed to stuff a IBM mainframe into his 50-foot sailboat. He uses it to maintain hotel reservation systems (using an assembler and COBOL). He travels from marina to marina because of the enormous power requirements of his computer. It has been working well for him for the last 15 years. His approach is to use the mail service for specifications and magnetic tapes. This has left him a little out-of-date technically. He has never used or seen a PC. He thinks relational databases couldn't deal with large systems, UNIX is for universities, and that the Internet is another BBS. In fact, he reminded me of the Japanese soldier left on a deserted South Pacific island who fought the war for 20 years after it was over. I didn't have the heart to tell him about the slight decline of the mainframe industry. Nassau Harbor has the same navigation traps as any other harbor or bay in the Bahamas. Given the large number of boats, you might think they would put some markers up or do some dredging. Not even. We watched a 60-foot sailboat shoot across the harbor right across an unmarked, but highly visible, reef. In fact, he hit it so hard the top of his mast fell down. That hurts. The morning of our departure was filled with doubt. We got up at 7 a.m. for a 36-nautical-mile run to Allans Key in the Exuma Island group. The weather didn't look right. The forecast was good--the wind was southeast at 10 knots. Denise and I sat on the deck for a hour and watched the wind, clouds, and swell. Finally, we left at 9 a.m. because we couldn't find a reason not to leave. Five miles south of Nassau a squall paid us a visit, bringing rain and winds of 30 knots. The rain eased after a few minutes and the wind settled down to 20 knots on the nose. Uncomfortable, but bearable. Yellow Bank is a shallow bank south of New Providence Island en route to the Exumas. The average depth is about 14 feet, sprinkled with widely spaced, intensely black coral heads. Even with poor light conditions these heads can be seen from a considerable distance. It took two hours to thread our way through Yellow Bank. Once we got through, the sun came out and the winds and seas settled down. We had 15 miles left to go to Allans Cay. We only experienced a ten-knot wind and a two-foot chop. We were approaching a light rain shower that looked to be some three miles away. Without warning, the wind generator started spinning like a blender on high speed. We couldn't feel it in the cockpit, and the seas gave no indication. I braked the wind generator and looked for some sort of explanation, then ... wham. Hakuna Matata was spun on her side. The autopilot gave up and I took the wheel. She wouldn't go head into the wind. It was only after I over-revved the engine that she came around. But we still didn't see any waves and the rain shower looked to be more than a mile away. It was freaky. Then I saw a white line a few hundred yards in front of us. When it hit, it was like we were nailed by a dozen fire hoses. Horizontal driving spray. It was completely bizarre. The waves picked up to 10 feet and the rain started. It was all I could do to keep us bow to the wind. The GPS showed us doing two knots backward. It was over in a hour. Things settled back down like nothing happened. But the dodger will not take another hit like that. Entering Allans Cay is fairly straightforward. Boats were already anchored in the nice, sandy bottom, leaving us with grass over hard sand. It took us more than two hours to get three anchors down. There is not a lot of room where we anchored because the tidal current is strong and we're just a little bit rattled by the weird weather. Denise thinks we are anchoring-challenged because it takes us so long. Allans Cay and Leaf Cay are home to hundreds of iguanas. Just pull up on the beach, stay still for a few minutes, then dozens of large iguanas will slowly come up to beg for a little food. These were pretty friendly as far as iguanas go. It was a good thing we had all that ground tackle out last night. The winds piped up to 35 knots for over a hour. We didn't move an inch. We'll hang out here for another day and lick our wounds; then, weather providing, we're off to Staniel Cay and then the infamous Georgetown.