by Frank Durant
The year was 2007. I was in Florida aboard my 25-1/2 ft 1961 Pearson Ariel, a beautiful sailing old Alberg-designed boat.
A Gulf Stream crossing was planned and after an extended period of rough seas with wind on nose, finally a window! This would be a long crossing, from Lake Worth inlet to Port Lucaya, a distance of about 84 nautical miles.
The anchor was hauled about 8pm and off we went—the little 6hp Evinrude twin humming along happily. There was no sailing that night and you literally could’ve seen a bug in the water from 100 feet away. A gorgeous full moon rose and I sat on the foredeck watching the glowing green effervescence sparkling in our bow wake. It was truly magical, and a relief after the foul seas just the day before.
About 3am I was getting drowsy having been awake since 6am the day before, so I grabbed my cooking timer and set to having 15-minute cat naps.
The little autohelm was doing a great job in the flat seas and I could relax a bit. About the 4th time the alarm went off I sat up to do a 360 check for other boats, and a course and boat check. There was a glow in the distance that shouldn’t have been there. Out came the handheld GPS and chart. The stationary glow made no sense… there were no islands ahead, just open water on the bank.
As it was many miles off, we continued on. The next ding had me awake to see the glow seemingly bigger and brighter. What was this? I was starting to feel uncomfortable. These are not the things you want to deal with in the dark while you’re tired and alone. Another GPS and chart check confirmed nothing should be there. What was the source of this massive stationary glow, still miles ahead? Aliens? A lost city? This was, after all, Bermuda Triangle territory.
As it was still miles ahead and our speed was only 4-1/2 knots, I decided one more 15 minute snooze was in order.
The next ding awakened me to a huge panoramic glow! Much like the memory I had from driving into Vegas years before in the dark. It was eerie. There was no island ahead, and no ship could make that much light!
My mind now racing through all sorts of strange ideas about what lay ahead, I considered making a 90-degree course change out of fear, but my curiosity kept us plugging forward. After 10 more minutes of feeling on edge, the binoculars revealed the cause of this now incredibly massive glow on the sea: Three cruise ships had anchored on the edge of the bank together, I assume to enter Freeport in the morning light.
I literally laughed out loud! For several hours I’d been spooked by this “city” that shouldn’t have been there. Such is solo sailing at times…•SCA•
Good “SPOOKY” story!!
If this were me, I'd have been sitting on the Poop Deck!! Great story. I would have had my rosaries rotating, my yarmulke on my head, and my prayer rug pointed toward the East.