The sail over from Green Turtle was effortless and too short. We actually sailed past our anchorage a good bit before turning back; we didn’t want to waste the wind, after all it was a sailing charter.
There are three or 4 anchorages on Manjack (or should I say next to it, since if your boat gets on it that’s a really bad thing). We chose the southern most anchorage. The main reason was it looked to give the best protection from the prevailing wind; ok that’s not true. We chose it because it was closest to Fiddle Cay and the Stranded Naked Party taking place the next day. When we arrived there were two huge mega motor yachts there. The kind with multiple satellite domes, a paid crew and lots of toys.
All afternoon, those jet skis, jet boat tenders and such roared through the other boats in the anchorage. We just set the hook and snorkeled. The snorkeling wasn’t great and not just due to the commotion. We just didn’t see a lot on the bottom. Baker’s bay seemed to smoke this spot. Of course, the rocky motion of the ocean didn’t help. As the sun began to go down all wind disappeared and the bow of the boat pointed east to the shore. This coincidentally was the opposite direction we had set the hook. But we had buried the flukes deep into soft sand and the shank lay flat to the ocean floor, so we felt confident in our holding (especially with no wind).
Well while I lay in my bunk resting or maybe sleeping off a couple of Dark and Stormies, I felt the boat turn quickly 180 degrees. I leaped from the bunk, ran through the saloon and into the cockpit. As I did, the wind scoop from the front hatch sailed into the dodger with a loud crack, then sailed into the darkness hiding the shore behind us. A storm had come up from the only unprotected portion of the anchorage.
In short order, it was pitch black and the wind was gusting to 50 knots. Chaos reigned in the anchorage, as one of the mega yachts dragged down on the other one, losing its tender in the process and leaving some jet skis in the water. It got within 20 feet before the Captain of the dragging vessel put the boat in gear. They weighed anchor and moved to deeper water, slowly. Very slowly.
For the next two hours, we looked at our GPS and the shoreline behind us and the boat heading our way. A small wooden sailboat was dragging its anchor. When the wind finally died down we could hear the waves crashing on the lee shore astern. I decided we should put up anchor, thread our way out of the anchorage and find some clear water. It was dark. But something had happened that made me appreciate the mega yachts. They lit up the anchorage like Christmas with their search lights and made it possible for me to make out where all the boats were. We slowly motored until we found a spot far from a lee shore. Though after that storm, the mosquitoes decided it was time to feed.
In retrospect, we did not need to move. The waves crashing on the shore were the residual waves from the storm and the prevailing winds turned us in a direction that would have the lee shore off to port. But we probably had fewer bug bites since we moved. A word on the crew is in order as well. We had many days to perfect our anchor drills. Our communication was solid when we set the anchor and we did not drag. If we did it was only a few feet. The alarms never went off, so we will never know. When the storm came in, we stayed calm, kept a look out for other boats and looked out for each other. The only casualty was the $24 wind scoop. When we pulled the anchor, it was still a little windy so we had someone relay from bow to cockpit any directions. It was tense and thrilling at the same time. I gained a lot of respect for the simple act of backing down HARD on an anchor.