Delivering Receta

    Back on November 29th, 2025 I saw a posting on the Sea People app that I use, it was a call for help to deliver a newly purchased boat from the Caribbean island of  St. Martin back to Stuart Florida. I answered it, hit it off with Adam Martin from Iowa and agreed to crew for him on his delivery at the end of January. It is on my list of things to do, cross an ocean on someone else's boat. This trip is half an ocean, but a good start, so I signed on. Thus begins the tail of two voyages, sailing Kismet to 900 south miles to Stuart and then sailing Receta 1100 plus miles north west to Stuart. At this point Kismet was not scheduled to be hauled out for bottom work for another five days, the clock was ticking. Schedules again.     

   Receta is a 1981 Tartan 42 foot sailing vessel with a inboard diesel auxiliary engine. It's similar in size and mass to Kismet, my Passport 40, and is equally robust, this was a major factor in my decision to sail 1100 miles on an unfamiliar boat. I suggested to Adam M. that a third sailor would be optimum for the trip as two people get mighty tired after a few days, and this trip would take a minimum of eight days; I was guessing ten. 

   So, there would be three; Adam M. found another willing sailor for the voyage; Bobby Pooley joins the crew. On Monday, 26 January, an engineer, a scientist and a bible translator step onto a boat in Saint Martin, write your own jokes about that. Tuesday we set sail by early afternoon. Yes, early afternoon; we had to clear customs which is outside the lagoon but the lift bridge was out of commission on that side so we had to motor half way around the island, anchor, dinghy into town to do the paperwork and then finally get out of Dodge. Have you ever noticed nothing is ever easy? This goes for voyaging under sail too, no surprise. 

   We used a number of apps to plan the trip, Windy to check, well, wind. Predict Wind is a nifty app can estimate your speed sailing in different winds and to optimize your route and provide a good arrival estimate. Navionics is a charting program that is constantly updated by Garmin and users, so it's very handy in places where charts are less perfect than in the USA. All this was facilitated by Starlink which allows internet at sea, for an extra fee. Well worth it for an extended offshore passage; have you ever trusted a weather report beyond two or three days? We needed updates, we need data!

   And we did actually need weather updates often as mother nature and King Neptune were not cooperating with our plans, there was no direct weather window to get us back to Florida without stopping; but I'm getting ahead of myself. We headed out to sea at the edge of the windward islands of the Caribbean with several bailout spots picked out if things got bad before we got half way; these were marinas in Puerto Rico and The Dominican Republic but we expected to to get to an anchorage at Great Inagua Island in the Bahamas. Below is an example of a wind map showing one of the high wind events that stood in our way. Twice during our trip there were near hurricane force storms heading toward Bermuda and dishing up plenty of leftover wind for us down south.  

   We had a pretty uneventful first couple of days at sea, we stood our watches at night, four hours each on a rotation so you would have the next later watch each night which helped break up the routine. I agreed to do the cooking after both Adam M. and Bobby said nobody would be happy with their cooking or something like that. We had a pretty good haul of groceries delivered to us in St. Martin and on the second night we had Tilapia over tomato couscous. I tried to keep everyone fed and didn't hear any complaints, even when early in the planning I suggested a vegan/pescatarian menu; they were just happy to fed. 

   Day three was more of the same, some sailing, mostly motoring until I announced that we would pass over the edge of the Puerto Rico Trench in a couple of hours. I had explained to the crew on What's App about a month earlier that I intended to swim in the Milwaukee Deep, the deepest spot in the Atlantic Ocean; I don't know if they believed me or not. 

   So, mid afternoon on Thursday, 29 January, we turned off the motor, mainsail still up, doing nothing in the calm, and jumped off Receta into an abyss 22315 feet deep! The Milwaukee Deep is almost a mile deeper, but it would have been 50 miles out of the way to jump in there, and I don't think anyone would know the difference, and I doubt any of us will swim in deeper water, ever! The temperature was lovely and the color was unimaginably dark blue. A simple thing to jump off a boat into the water, quite another thing to imagine the bottom is four miles away. It turned out to be one of the highlights of the trip, a wonderful break in the work of sailing long distances. Our daring must have pleased Neptune. 

   Friday brought more of the same routine that we were all getting used to. I made red beans and rice with chips and salsa for the crew, all enjoyed the comfort food. The weather held and we didn't have to use any of the bail out options, we would sail for Great Inagua Island and anchor for three nights. But getting there proved to be harder than expected, the wind was not supposed to build until the next day, but it built anyway and 60 degrees off our port bow, first 20, then 25 knots, then gusting up to 31! The waves were so steep they looked like they were going to fall right into the boat and on top of us, we all wore are harnesses and kept them tethered to the boat. We were crashing into the waves which slowed us down, so we motor-sailed to keep up our speed so we could anchor before dark. Then we ran out of fuel. 

   The timing was perfect, that is to say, it could have been much worse. We had five hours to go to reach our anchorage, so five hours to solve the problem of refueling the diesel tank from a jerry can while sailing on an angry sea. Adam M. was always a hundred percent focused on solving the problem at hand and we quickly decided that it would be better to refuel the tank inside the boat through an inspection port to avoid getting water in the tank by refueling on deck. Water in the tank would have been a far worse problem! This step actually went quite well with minimal spillage and the cabin sole was oh so shinny after we cleaned up the small mess. Next we started the motor and it ran beautifully for about seven seconds and died. As expected, air was sucked into the line from running it dry. Time to bleed the injector pump. 

    Luckily I had bleed the pump on Kismet before and Receta's engine was very similar, only this one is mounted backwards making it slightly confusing when looking for things. Of course the bleed lever was difficult to reach but we managed to crack the bleed screw and pump the air out in just a few minutes and just like that we had a working diesel engine again; teamwork was never an issue on the trip. We arrived at our anchorage at sunset and were all secure before dark with five other yachts also seeking shelter from the weather in the middle of nowhere on a Saturday night. Nice to know we weren't the only people on earth that thought this was a good place to hunker down. 

   We filled our time for the next three days cooking and cleaning, fixing and repairing, resting and relaxing the best we could. Thankfully we never had any interpersonal issues in the tight quarters, everyone was respectful of one another and their things and their space. We also put the other two jerry cans of diesel in the tank, it works better there and was easier to do on deck when the waves died down.

   The next bit of excitement came when we tried to reposition the boat in the anchorage and found that the windless would not raise the anchor, it only worked in the down direction, interesting... I quickly discovered that the solenoid that controls the downward rotation of the motor was not working and no matter how much I banged on it, it still wouldn't move. I decided to swap the huge power cables on the motor so that the working solenoid would power the contact for the up direction of the motor. One problem solved but now anchoring would require a manual deployment. Anchors away! This is not difficult but requires some practice, and gloves!

   Finally, Tuesday morning arrives; we had arranged to meet Don, the fuel guy, along with customs and immigration at the fuel dock at 0630. We had an early start; nobody complained after waiting so long. Refueling the boat may sound like a mundane task, but at Great Inagua it was anything but. Don showed up at 0645 in his compact hatchback car and there were no pumps at the dock. To our surprise, he pulled a 20 gallon jug of fuel out of his back seat and there were three more in the hatch. He connected his pump to the car battery and quickly started filling our jerry cans. The hose was too short to reach the fuel port on the boat, and it was too complicated to turn the boat around and re-rig all the fenders and lines. We hand poured about eight five gallon jerry cans into the boat, talk about isometric exercise, I was surprised I could stand strait the next day. 

    Don also mentioned a grocery store and when I asked for some rice he offered me a ride. The grocery delivery in St. Martin neglected to include the two pounds of rice we ordered and now we were out. The cook was not happy and running out of pasta options. A half mile from the dock was a nice little grocery that had everything I needed, but a can of beans cost almost $5. I got a few essentials and headed back to the boat, we had miles to cover.

   I should note, as we waited in the anchorage eight miles from the harbor for 56 hours, we studied up on Grand Inagua Island and learned that it was home to a Morton Salt mine and is also a logistics hub for surrounding islands, including Haiti. We were hoping to see one of these Haitian cargo boats, sailing cargo boats! We were in luck, but the Haitians were not; their boat was damaged, probably in the blow that made us sit at anchor. They were working on it but most of the starboard rail was missing from the boat. I imagined that it was not very water tight in this condition. I wish them success on their return home, about 81 miles southeast from Matthew Town, Great Inagua. If their was heroism on this trip it was on that Haitian boat, brave soles determined to bring food and supplies back to their families.

   With our fuel tank and jerry cans full we cast off on the second let of a trip that was supposed to be one leg. And for a second time our destination would not be Florida, more contrary winds waited if we approached Florida directly so we were forced to take a longer route with better wind and another layover stop. We sailed for Eleuthera Island, Bahamas; this was now officially an odyssey. Maybe it's my luck, last time I sailed overseas I visited Ithaca, the home of Odysseus; penance now paid, hopefully. 

   We headed North Northeast and quickly turned off the engine, for we had lovely sailing winds. Receta is a fast boat, hitting seven knots with ease and we made good time. We sailed through the night and well into Wednesday before the winds eased and forced us to employ the Yanmar diesel once more. On my night shift of the second day, a new terrible noise spontaneously emanated from the boat. I didn't know what it was, it didn't sound like the engine, it didn't sound like something caught on the propeller, I felt dread as another possibility crept into my consciousness. I reached for the autopilot and put it in standby, the noise stopped, the dread stayed. I started steering by hand and waited until another crew member relieved me. I made breakfast for the men, we would all need nourishment for this new incessant chore. They call it "the tyranny of the tiller" for a reason. The helm must be manned every second.

   With Adam M. awake we looked closer at the problem hoping for an easy solution, something obvious, something easy, there was nothing of the kind. We turned on the autopilot one more time with our heads in the void where the actuator lives, it made a terrible grinding noise, the internal gears had stripped. There would be no fix for this without brand new parts, likely unavailable until we reached Florida, the dread continued along with the hand steering of the boat.

   We motored on with two hour shifts at the helm, day and night. Now there were islands close by and we could always see at least one, we passed Crooked Island, Long Cay, Long Island, Rum Cay Island, Conception Island and Cat Island before Eleuthera was in sight in the morning sun. Elueuthera has a huge lagoon which we entered from the southeast then carefully navigated around a mile long sandbar before approaching our anchorage near Dunmore Town. I dropped the anchor, by hand, in a patch of sand and we were done traveling for a couple more days.

       With time to kill at Eleuthera Island we took to fixing less critical things, Adam M. and Bobby hoisted me part way up the mast to reattach the port lazy-jack cable so that we could more easily drop and stow the mainsail. On the second day I decided we should get off the boat for our own sanity and called a water taxi, no problem they said. Within ten minutes Mark from Andres Rentals showed up and we jumped on board for the five minute ride to the city dock. We were all glad we didn't try to dock Receta there, it was more of a concrete island with no bumpers and questionable water depth. The first priority was to locate the grocery store so I could asses our meal plan options. We stopped by the local Piggly Wiggly, definitely not a corporate store; but they had everything we needed. 

 

   After our shopping we decided having lunch out would be nice and we stopped at Arthur's Bakery and had an exceptionally delicious lunch of lobster wraps; these were so go I would recommend traveling to Eleuthera just for lunch, wow! Next we walked around and found a spot to take the above picture of Receta from shore, shopped for some gifts and memorabilia and decided to head back to the boat. Mark was at the dock and returned us to Receta. Three people, two five minute rides each, $50! Should have negotiated that one, no more trips ashore.

   There would be one more expense before we were free from Eleuthera, we needed to leave by the north passage out of the lagoon. The passage is called "The Devils Backbone", no I'm not kidding and neither was the harbor pilot when he said it would $150 for guided passage to the relative safety of the North Atlantic in winter. We agreed to meet said pilot, Little Woody, at 0630 near the entrance of Devil's Backbone. We moved the boat to a position on the north end of the lagoon for our early morning departure. 

   I hate being in a rush in the morning so I was awake at 5am to make coffee and breakfast for the crew, we would need to be ready to go when our pilot arrived. At 0615 we went to raise the anchor but it did not rise by electrical propulsion, new problems arose with the anchor windless that could not be corrected without parts. Through teamwork we got the anchor up by hand just as Little Woody's boat approached. Luckily, this departure was for Stuart Florida and would end at a marina, not an anchorage, we were done with the anchor and windless. Adam M. paid Woody and Woody gave him a cake and said follow me out. You can't make this stuff up. We followed. You can see Woody's little boat in the picture and the beach 30 yards to port, even closer to starboard there were rocks, the Devil's Backbone, barely covered by water. Having a pilot was a good idea. 
 

 

 

   After a half hour of following Little Woody, he called on the radio and said we were clear from here. Off we went hand steering Receta due West on one hour stints for the next 33 hours. We had good wind so we sailed but this required two people on deck, one to steer and one to trim sails, watch AIS, get snacks, et cetera, while the third person rested. Sometime in the night the wind died, we furled the jib and pulled the main in tight amidships to lessen roll in the swell; this allowed one person to handle the boat while two people rested, a much easier watch rotation. 

    Shortly after sunrise, hints of civilization appeared on the horizon with the skyscraper beach hotels of Fort Lauderdale and West Palm Beach slowly coming into view. The Gulf Stream steadily pushed us north as we pointed west and soon the channel markers guided us into the St Lucie river. We still had to motor 90 minutes up the river to our destination, Adam M.'s family waited for us on the first bridge to wave us on. It was heart warming to see their support and appreciation for all of us bringing their new home to them. 

   We were excited to complete the journey, just a couple of miles and three bridges to go. All three are within a hundred yard stretch of water. The first bridge is 65 feet above the water and we could pass under, the second is a railroad crossing and is open until a train approaches, the third is a motor way that opens on demand. We neared the three bridges, five minutes away when a hail came on the radio that the rail bride would close in four minutes, we had to wait. We waited four minutes for the bridge to start lowering, five more for it to get fully closed, ten more for the first train and ten more for the second train, not that we were impatient, NOT AT ALL!!!

   Ten minutes after all the bridges were open we were in Sunset Marina and got Receta tied up in her slip. It was somewhat anti-climatic, we stopped the boat, jumped off, tied up and it was done. Just like that. After trying so hard for two weeks, just tying up the boat like we were out for a day sail seemed too easy, funny how perspective changes everything. 

   It's a strange thing that happens in the sailing community, people show up to help one another. We all could have been doing other things, but we showed up to help one of our own. Bobby and I volunteered for the trip for our own reasons, but for Adam M. it was the promise of a new life for his family away from the cold Iowa winter. There was also their personal deadline, today was his and Julie's 24th wedding anniversary. I'm sure Bobby was as proud as myself to get Adam home before that important day had passed. 

    For me, with a week of perspective that already feels like a month, the trip was an adventure, a test, training, and in the end, it's ten more days at sea in my logbook. It was the biggest offshore passage I have done so far and I learned some lessons. The best decision of the trip was made a month in advance, having three people on board did in fact make the workload sustainable even when we had to hand steer. Second, we had discussions before and throughout the trip about whether we should go initially and later about to continue from different points. There was never any disagreement about continuing, but we talked about it and agreed. Adam M., despite his looming anniversary, never put schedule ahead of safety so it was really just luck that the weather allowed us to complete our journey on that particular day. 

   As the old saying goes, sometimes it's better to be lucky than good. Bobby had the couple extra vacation days available to take from work, I got a couple more days in my logbook, and Adam M. got to spend part of his anniversary with his family, an anniversary they will always remember. 

 I made it back to Kismet that evening, everything untouched except by the birds. I hosed her down, shoved off the dock and drifted 200 yards, put down my anchor, and laid down in my own bed. 

Until next time, dear readers,