When planning a sail to the Bahamas, cruisers put a great deal of effort into planning the Gulf Stream crossing. For good reason, of course. The distance is significant, often requiring an overnight sail, and that river of current sure makes route planning tricky. But no one tells you that once you’ve successfully reached the Near Bahamas islands, you immediately need to start planning your next passage.

From Bimini, we planned on heading east across the Great Bahama Bank to the Berry Islands about 90 miles away, a distance we cannot cover in one day. It’ll require us to anchor midway across, a strategy taken by many sailors. Midway point for this passage is the famous Mackie Shoal and is plotted on most navigational charts.

Since we are in no particular hurry, we set out from Bimini aiming for an imaginary point in the middle of all that water near Mackie Shoal. The shoal is exactly what it sounds like – a giant sandbar in the middle of all that water. While you wouldn’t want to encounter the shoal by mistake, skirting the northern edge of it on purpose makes a great rest stop on the way across the Bank. Hours after we’d lost sight of land and lost cell phone coverage, we could see a few boats heading directly towards the shoal, and we veered a bit north to get off the popular route. Scanning for shallows, we decided to drop anchor in 20 feet of water surrounded by nothingness in all directions. Our boat must seemed like a very small speck in a very large ocean. But the waters were calm, the sunset was spectacular, and Claudia’s avocado toast dinner tasted way better than it ever did on land.

After a fabulous sunset, night came and the heavens opened up. The sky started to resemble astronomical charts and maps. We begin to see the band of stars that compose the Milky Way. We were in store for an astronomical treat. We didn’t need expensive equipment or possess an advanced degree in astronomy to appreciate all the night sky has to offer. Without the light pollution, we were lost in the magnificence of our universe.

Claudia and I sat in the cockpit, taking it all in. We did not want to go inside. A few times, a couple of mysterious double finned fish swam by to check us out. We think they are sharks, but we’re not really sure. Without noise pollution, we hear only the occasional creaking sounds coming from Fujiko’s riggings as she’s rocked by the gentle swells of the ocean.

Before going to sleep, not wanting to get run down by freighters or go-fast boats, we made sure there were plenty of lights outside our boat for visibility. We turned on the mast light, three other bright LED lights, hung at deck level. There’s no way you’re not seeing us unless if you’re blind. In minutes, we were fast asleep 😴.