Opportunity strikes in the oddest places sometimes. On the flip side, the need to increase adaptability always strikes at the most inconvenient time and place. For example, our unplanned month in Bermuda, which was one of unexpected delight.
Bermuda Bound
After months of research and work, my family of five departed the Caribbean island of St. Martin, where we’d spent the last eight weeks preparing our 1972 Bowman Mug Up for our trans-Atlantic crossing. The first leg to Bermuda was planned for five to seven days at sea to travel 985 miles.
The weather in late May and early June, 2024, between the northern Caribbean islands and Bermuda, was volatile. Heavy squalls kept rolling through the Sargasso Sea between us and our destination. Being patient was certainly the hardest part of the whole passage.
We finally left June 20, 2024, averaging six to seven knots the first 48 hours on a beam reach. Excitement and anxiety held my hands. Our week at sea saw the spectrum of squalls, no wind, stunning spinnaker sailing, and the always popular “beat the next low system into port.”
Bermuda, ever popular destination just 600 miles off the East Coast of the United States, is an archipelago of seven low-lying islands and 170 islets and rocks. Discovered in the early 1500s, it’s been a beacon and hazard for sailors for hundreds of years. And in modern times, the crisp Bermuda radio as far as 30 miles out to sea, is a welcome sound. Hearing them on the radio the night before landfall brought a smile to all our faces.
Given its profile and the heavy gray clouds of the low system we attempted to beat, we were closer than three miles to shore before I could identify the island against the horizon.
Docked at the customs dock of St. George’s, the kids stretched their legs while Jeremy checked us in, and we dropped the hook in St. George’s Harbor. We intended to spend five to seven days to clean laundry, visit Nelson’s Dockyard in Hamilton, rest, reprovision, and head east for the Azores.
When things get leaky
We felt reinvigorated after celebrating my eldest’s 14th birthday in conjunction with landfall, texting our friends and family that we were anchored and safe and collapsing into bed for a well-deserved, uninterrupted sleep. After coffee and breakfast the next day, Jeremy did his customary check of the engine only to discover a transmission leak from the rear seal.
Our Perkins 4-108 is the workhorse everyone says it is. Rebuilt right before we purchased Mug Up in 2018, it has faithfully done its job, as has the transmission. A Hurth 360-2R, a now obsolete transmission, hadn’t given us any cause for concern. Discovering the transmission seal leaking—about eight ounces over a four-hour period—was a devastating, panicky blow to our celebration of being in Bermuda.
As we walked around St. George’s, loving the pretty white roofs and garden flowers and friendly people, we pondered our options. Both the Bermudian mechanics and those on the East Coast couldn’t assess anything without pulling the transmission off the engine: a concern as we make water and occasionally charge the batteries with our engine. Studying the maintenance drawings, we deduced the leak was from a seal and an O-ring, with little interaction with anything else.
Before going to drastic measures of removing the transmission, Jeremy decided we would attempt to replace the seals ourselves. After confirming the size of seal we needed, we were able to source the parts on eBay. Jeremy spoke to customs to get an import number; we ordered the seal. Now, we just had to wait.
Also, we had made landfall June 27. We couldn’t forget that hurricane season was underway.
We stayed at anchor in St. George’s and kept an eye on the forecast. I made a list of things to do beyond the obvious tourist attractions. We bought bus tickets and became very familiar with the bus routes. Beyond the “popular” attractions of Nelson’s Dockyard and Gibb’s Hill Lighthouse, we trekked to the library in downtown Hamilton; hiked the perimeter of St. George’s Island, visiting the forts and cemeteries; and walked to Cooper’s Island Nature Reserve.
We even bought a membership to the Bermuda Aquarium, Museum, and Zoo, and packed picnic lunches to spend afternoons there bringing sketch books to draw the animals and plants. Inspired by “Swallows and Amazons,” our latest book read as a family, we kayaked to the little islands near the anchorage to cook over a campfire and roast marshmallows.
When “go!” turns to “slow”
Sometimes in cruising, we’re in a “Go! Go! Go!” mentality. See the things, get to the next place, repeat. Many times, though, we travel at a slower pace, trying to savor the moment, dive into a place and really get to know it.
We arrived in Bermuda with the Go! mindset. We were crossing the Atlantic Ocean; no time to dilly-dally! But now, we were forced, gifted the time, to slow down and savor it. It is hard sometimes to relax when feeling the strain of “what if,” and the clock working against us. We had to work hard to get unplanned work done and also enjoy the blues of Bermuda surrounding us.
The kids did their schoolwork. After reading “Trumpet of the Swan,” my youngest asked for a slate and chalk, which we found in Hamilton. Her spelling words were done (and are still done) on that slate. Our wooden toe rail looked worse for wear, so we sanded it, bought varnish, and got to work. A couple of cars on our mainsail broke on passage, so Jeremy carried the sail to the local sail loft to have it and the sail bag repaired.
As July ticked on and we checked in with friends after Hurricane Beryl plowed through Carriacou, we kept one eye on the weather and one eye on the tracking for our transmission seal. Jeremy and I started to ponder if it would make sense to continue east, or if we needed to pivot—back south, or to the East Coast, or north to Nova Scotia. We had so many options before us. But in the end, it came down to the mail and the weather gods.
On July 18, Jeremy picked up our transmission seal from the customs office in St. George’s. It took him just a couple of hours to replace, and then a day of testing his work—driving Mug Up around the bay with a clean drip pan to watch for leakage.
When east is the way to go
Success! Though it was late July, our forecast to go east to the Azores, which would take us 14 days, was a green light. To the east and north of us, volatile, squally weather blocked our path. Clearly, east was the only way to go.
Final re-provisioning done—yes, the five of us had done a thorough job working though our passage provisions—we checked out of Bermuda July 26, put the dinghy on the foredeck, and weighed anchor for the Azores. Hurricane Ernesto made landfall at Bermuda on August 20.
We motored the first 24 hours out of the Bermuda high in order to catch the wind. Bermuda quickly faded into the distance, engulfed in blue, as we pointed our bow toward the volcanic mountains of the Azores. Our unplanned month in Bermuda was one of unexpected delight. We were able to savor our time there, and it will always have a place in our hearts.
by Jillian Greenawalt
About the Author: Jillian Greenawalt’s husband Jeremy learned to sail while in college on the Chesapeake Bay and taught her to sail. With a family of five, for four years they have cruised on their 1972 Bowman 46 Mug Up down the East Coast and Chesapeake, to the Caribbean, and now the Mediterranean Sea.
