Boy I need to do this more often," sighed Steve Creel. We were two days into our voyage from the Virgin Islands to Ft. Lauderdale, and Steve was discovering the joys of a long ocean passage. For me, the anxiety that usually accompanies the first day at sea dissipates as I ease into a routine. Obligations fade, and my mind becomes clutter-free. Most of my mental power (a diminishing resource these days) is applied to getting from one port to the other and keeping the ship running.And then I too eventually realize, that I also "need to do this more often."

Steve, a BOAT DIGEST contributor and old friend joined me along with my good friend Tom Brener for the 1,200-mile spring passage to Lauderdale. We were tasked with delivering the Grand Banks 46 Classic Oceans Apart for the owner. Tight schedules and commitments at home constricted the three of us, and we hoped to make the trip in 7 days. Our planned course would take us from St. Thomas to Puerto Rico for a fuel stop, then up the Silver Banks to the north of the Turks and Caicos, where we would layover in Providenciales (Provo), Turks and Caicos for a day.Then we would head for the southern Exumas. Our final leg would be non-stop to Lauderdale. On paper, it sounded feasible, and if the weather cooperated and we had no issues with the boat, we could make it happen.

I've completed several deliveries between Florida, the Virgins, and the West Indies, on both power and sail. In my opinion, a well-found powerboat like a Grand Banks 46 is as perfectly suited for the mission as any sailboat. In fact, I've become spoiled by the comforts of a powerboat these days and I wonder why more powerboats don't make the trip past the south-ern Bahamas.With direct flights from the East Coast to the Turks and Caicos and St. Thomas, the area is an appealing alternative for owners looking to extend their cruising season.

Oceans Apart was equipped with twin 320 hp Caterpillar 3208Ts, which gave her a cruising speed of around 13 knots. Since our primary goal was range, especially for the 400-mile plus legs, we backed her down to 1500 rpm and averaged about 9 knots. Sometimes we were a little faster thanks to the prevailing trade winds and seas pushing our stern. The Westerbeke generator kept the 110-volt holding plate refrigerator boxes chilled (we had two refrigerators and one freezer) and better yet, kept us chilled thanks to the three air conditioning units. I think running the air conditioning is key to maintaining a pleasant environment on these offshore legs. There is often too much salt and water flying around, so opening windows is not always an option. A stuffy, hot and moist cabin is never pleasant.

On the first day, long, ocean rollers cresting to 8 feet lifted our stern and pushed us towards San Juan. We served up a big salad with blackened chicken and roasted red peppers, had the obligatory Jimmy Buffet tunes spewing from the speakers, cracked a cold Heineken and began enjoying ourselves.

After topping off our tanks in San Juan, which gave us the necessary reserves for the long slog to Provo, we headed out of the old harbor with a falling sun. In the past, I've hugged the northern coast of Puerto Rico, passed through the Mona Passage, along the coast of the Dominican Republic, and then headed for the western tip of the Turks and Caicos chain. But Tom, our designated navigator, determined it was shorter if we jumped off from San Juan on a course of 318 degrees, taking us north of the Silver Banks, Grand Turk, and into Provo. I'm the first to admit that I'm a creature of habit and was a bit reluctant to stray so far from land, thus eliminating our bail out options. However, the weather window was favorable, the boat was in fine shape, and if there was an issue, Steve is the best damn mechanic I know.

Our ambitious 400-mile run accelerated our life weary crew into adventure mode. By the second day, cell phones and Blackberrys were stashed deep underneath cruising guides and navigational tools, shoes were cast off-in my case lost-and we welcomed the safety of the sea. We steered, cooked, navigated, checked the engines, and slept. Our watch system of two hours on, and four hours off gave each of us plenty of time to chill out. Boredom was never an issue.

"There's plenty to keep you busy. We have toilets that need cleaning, gensets that need to be fixed, oil that needs to be checked, all kinds of stuff," said Steve one morning when we discussed the possibility of running out of things to do.

We covered 223 miles in the first 24 hours after leaving San Juan and would need to spend another night at sea before arriving in Provo. There was no sign of life on the ocean except for our little ship and salty crew.

Soon, the rumbling of the engines was not annoying, but soothing. The sound of water parting at the bow provided an equally calming chorus. Phosphorescence danced in the white froth of each parting wave. On a long passage, the mind opens to absorb the subtle and not so subtle beauty of your surroundings and life on board. Eventually you begin to wonder how many golden sunsets you missed while battling rush hour traffic. Although moments of shore side life and responsibility occasionally creep into your thoughts, they are easily dismissed, simply outweighed by the moment.

At the tail end of my 1 a.m. to 3 a.m. watch on our third day, I spotted the lights of Grand Turk about 60 miles in the distance. Around 10 a.m. we arrived at the entrance to Turtle Cove at Sellars Cut. I've made this entrance several times and always have difficulty finding the markers, which sometimes lie nearly horizontal in a heavy breeze.We contacted the dockmaster at the Turtle Cove Marina, and they offered to send a boat to guide us through the coral heads and shallow channel. I never refuse a guide, especially when you're a little fogged over from a few days on the ocean. Do yourself a favor and check the ego back on the dock.

We pumped 370 gallons of diesel, cleared customs, and took a slip for the evening at Turtle Cove Marina. Provo is a great layover for boats travelling between the Bahamas and the Virgin Islands.You'll find all the provisions you need, good eats, and the marina can help facilitate any repairs. We kicked back at the Tiki Hut bar (I'm a sucker for poolside bars) and wallowed like seals in the hotel's pool, welcoming the freshwater on our salt encrusted skin. Provo deserves much more than a day, and is in fact host to several large resorts. Although I would be more than happy staying at Turtle Cove. After a dinner of fresh fish and good wine back on board Oceans Apart, we crashed and quickly entered a deep, uninterrupted sleep, ready for our 365-mile leg.

The next morning, Tom plotted a rhumb line from Provo, past the northern tip of Long Island, into Exuma Sound, and finally to Staniel Cay. "I don't even know what day it is and I don?Ĵt care," Steve said as we ate a huge pasta dinner on the flybridge that evening, as the autopilot steered a steady course past Mayaguana Island. West of Mayaguana, you'll pass the uninhabited Plana Cays. As a side note, I've stopped there on a previous delivery. You have to navigate around a few coral heads, but there is plenty of shelter from easterlies along a white sand, palm-laden beach. It's a good place to get some rest and tend to any projects.

"I've never missed a watch, but the motion put me under," was how Tom announced his late arrival to the 3am watch. My God, he was only 25 minutes late. Hopefully I wasn't running that tight of a ship! But relaxing and decompressing is a big draw of passagemaking for me. And apparently Tom too.

As the sun rose, we passed Rum Cay, heading towards the Exuma Sound. If we weren't in delivery mode, I would have loved to deviate to Rum Cay. Steve checked the fuel sight gauges, and we decided we had enough to increase the throttle and speed up our arrival in Staniel Cay. (Fuel flow meters would have been a huge help on this passage. See article in September issue.)

We took on another 350 gallons of diesel and a slip at the Staniel Cay Yacht Club. Afterwards, we rented a golf cart and explored every part of the island, eventually finding some big waves, perfect for a little body surfing. That night we had dinner at the informal Yacht Club, which has one seating where everyone orders at the bar by 5 p.m. We bumped into my friend John Clemans, who was cruising the Bahamas on his 23-foot inflatable with his friend Dick Devito.

The next morning, our ambitious schedule began to crumble. While exploring with John and Dick, I turned to Tom and Steve and asked, "What do you guys think about staying here for one more day?" They both answered in the affirmative without hesitation.

Make sure you take the time to dive or snorkel Thunderball Cave, made famous in the James Bond flick by the same name. Plan your excursion at low water and slack tide. Also the brighter the sun, the more splendid the display. There are two entrances to the cave, and once inside there is plenty of air space.

Something I?Ĵve never done before this trip was to feed swimming pigs.Yup, swimming pigs.We grabbed a bucket of slop from the Yacht Club, headed across the harbor to a nearby Cay. As soon as we approached the beach a family of pigs came onto the beach. The most ambitious of the herd swam out to John?Ĵs boat, and actually grabbed the painter and began to pull into shore. Dick jumped in the water and took the bucket to the shore. "Why am always the one jumping in the water, feeding the pigs, feeding the sharks you son of a bitch!" screamed Dick, giving a friendly zinger to his friend John, who was snapping pictures in delight as the pigs almost mauled Dick.

The weather report was calling for 9-foot seas for our Gulf Stream crossing. "It will be uncomfortable, but shouldn?Ĵt be a problem," Steve said. We agreed we would make the crossing. We left mid-morning after a hearty breakfast at the Yacht Club with John and Dick. Our course would take us across the Yellow Bank, where we needed to pay close attention to the coral heads, and then through the Tongue of the Ocean, to the Northwest Providence Channel, before making the Gulf Stream Crossing to Ft. Lauderdale. There was a slight chop and a few showers, but overall we continued to enjoy rather benign weather.

We sighted New Providence at sunset. The sky was fire red with bellows of smoky clouds, painting a breathtaking canvas for our last night on the ocean. The large seas we expected in the Gulf Stream never materialized, and the crossing was painless. Often the anticipation creates a far bleaker picture than the actual event.We sighted a few of the tall condo towers of Ft. Lauderdale, and applied a little more throttle for the final 50 miles.We pulled into Hal Jones and Company, took care of customs and immigration, and began the big clean.

I?Ĵm always a bit melancholy while putting a boat away after a long trip. It?Ĵs like saying goodbye to an old friend. The first few days of looking for switches, handholds and learning about a boat?Ĵs quirks seem long gone. The boat becomes intimately familiar, especially after delivering you safely to your destination. Plus you know your brief divergence from the real world is over, and its back to the grind.

I've just returned from a brief four-day trip from Newport to Annapolis, and got hit with the bug again. I'm already putting out some feelers, looking to spend some time on the ocean, escaping to the safety of the sea.