Crossing the Grand Bahama Bank Lindsay McRory April 24, 1996 Up before the dawn, hook raised, and we were off. Great Bahama Bank was flat as a pancake. We motored for the first couple of hours under blue skies. While the crew slept below, I enjoyed a nice sunrise and started on a little office work. Gradually the wind filled from the northwest. With raised sails we lumbered along at a comfortable seven knots in 12 knots of wind. I thought of putting up some more canvas to gain an extra knot or two, but there were some clouds building and I was feeling a little lazy. Shortly before lunch the trolling rod buzzed off like an alarm as it played out line to our next dinner. It took about 20 minutes to reel in a five-foot barracuda. Getting a big fish on the deck of a moving sailboat is no small task and can actually be quite dangerous. We use a three-foot fishhook to grab them through the gills and hold them beside the boat. Now came the task of killing the fish before he came on board. I've heard a few different methods for doing this, usually involving ice picks or clubs. With the combination of thrashing fish, hooks hanging all over, and the motion of the boat, I didn't want to get close to him. While in Titusville, Florida, we met a half-crazed Englishman who had sailed across the Atlantic more times than he'd had birthdays. He frequently caught big fish at sea. His solution was to raise the fish up on a fishhook, then pour a bit of gin down his throat (that's the fish's throat, so he said). The only hard liquor we had on board was an unopened bottle of 20-year-old rum. I held the fish with the hook while Denise went for the rum. Up she came with a completely full glass. I started laughing because she had enough to kill five big tuna. I was going to stop her, but it was too late; I was laughing too hard. The barracuda drank the whole glass. One final thrash and it was over. He went with a twinkle in his eye. It worked amazingly well. The sad part is we couldn't eat it because barracuda frequently eat poisonous reef fish, which can be poisonous to us. Sadly, we cast the pickled corpse back to the ocean. A few hours later Denise caught a ten-pound mackerel. He was small enough that we didn't have to give him the rum treatment. Within a hour he was filleted and in the fridge. Crossing Great Bahama Bank was a nice, enjoyable sail. It's true that you can't rely on Bahamian lights. None of the lights we've seen so far work. The Northwest channel beacon was supposed to be 33 feet tall with a flashing light. Instead, it was gone. All that was left were four stumps. We arrived at Chub Cay at 4:30 p.m. The plan was to anchor for the night. The northwest winds had created quite an uncomfortable surge in the area so we headed on to Frazer Hogg Cay, where we would have shelter from the wind. The anchorage at Frazer Hogg Cay is completely unmarked and a little on the tricky side. Water shallows quickly as you approach the point. When you're about to kiss the rocks, you change course and keep the shoreline about 20 feet off your beam. By 6 p.m. we were snug as bugs. It was a long but very enjoyable day. In fact, it was one of the best passages we've had so far. We were glad we waited for a good weather window. The Great Bahama Bank can be a pretty unforgiving place.