Our Moorings 372 powercat had room for two couples plus children.

Wherever you are – as you read this – is probably cold, perhaps with snow or at least slush on the ground. When you left your warm home or office today, you bundled up from galoshes to gloves.

As I write this, I am not cold. In fact, it’s in the 80s, the sun is shining at SPF40 level, and I’m wearing shorts and a t-shirt. When I finish this paragraph, my wife and I plan to take the dinghy ashore for a picnic lunch on a pristine crescent of white sand, where we will put the first footprints of the day. When we land on the beach, we’ll step into gin-clear water that is as warm as a baby’s bathwater, and the sugary sand will be soft on our bare feet. With not too much luck, we’ll find another scarlet-rimmed conch shell to add to our growing collection.

The brochure had been intriguing. An announcement that The Moorings, the largest charter boat company in the world, had formed a division devoted not to the sailboats that are the usual Caribbean charter fare, but to powerboats. An opportunity had been created for non-sailors to enjoy the delights of chartering, and it wasn’t long before we were on a Continental Express flight from Fort Lauderdale to Marsh Harbor, the social centre of the Abacos islands that stretch along the north side of the Bahamas.

“Town” can be just a collection of cheerfully painted houses plus a good grocery store.

After cursory customs, we were soon climbing aboard Goodnight Moon, our 37-ft, twin-hulled home for the next week. Our charter started the next morning, but we’d arranged to stay aboard that night to give ourselves a chance to stow our gear and get used to the boat. Sam, an ebulliently cheerful Moorings employee, arrived with her annotated copy of Cruising Guide to the Abacos and gave us a thorough check-out on the Abacos. She provided an invaluable insider’s advice on the best snorkelling, the best anchorages, and the best food.

Our Moorings 372 was built to Moorings spec by French builder Fountaine Pajot, and the thoughtful design provides comfortable accommodation for two couples, plus a couple of kids. Each hull is an identical private cabin with large double berths, private heads and stall showers. The salon joining the hulls has an inside helm, a big convertible dinette, and a galley with everything from microwave to refrigerator/freezer. Best of all, the 372 has a generator that not only keeps the microwave popping popcorn and the blender making slushy drinks, but powers dual air conditioning systems that keep the salon and cabins comfortably cool even on the hottest days. Up a curving flight of stairs is the bridge, with a helm shaded by a bimini top and a bench seat.

Standard equipment is very comprehensive, including a rigid-bottomed inflatable dinghy with outboard, barbecue grill, stereo with CD, snorkelling gear, more than ample linens and towels, and full electronics from chartplotter/GPS to VHF radio. In the Abacos, the depthsounder is essential but a little frightening until you get used to the fact that the water is so shallow that much of your cruising is in 10-12 feet. Don’t worry, though, because the 372 draws just 3’6” of water and the props are protected by twin skegs against occasional groundings.

Unlike Moorings’ sailboat charters where prospective charterers need to document sailing experience that would daunt Horatio Hornblower, the power charters are available to anyone with basic powerboat experience. And, if you aren’t comfortable at first with twin engines and a boat of this size, The Moorings can provide a skipper for a day or two to hone your boat handling and anchoring skills.

The disctinctive red-and-white striped lighthouse of Hope Town.

After stocking up with provisions at a local market (we chose to do our own provisioning rather than use the Moorings plan), we cast off to explore the Sea of Abaco. Our first stop was Fowl Cay, a Sam-recommended snorkelling and shelling spot where we anchored in 9ft of water and dinghied onto the beach that provided the first of many conch shells. Later, after a pleasant lunch in the air conditioned cabin where we enjoyed the rock-solid stability that the nearly 17ft beam provided, we upped anchor and cruised past Scotland Cay and along Great Guana Cay.

We decided to spend our first night at Orchid Bay Marina in Great Guana’s Settlement Harbour, a spotlessly maintained facility where we hooked up to shore power, took hot showers, barbecued steaks and made the first of the rum drinks we later dubbed “No Brainers” for their end result.

The next day, we listened in to the local cruiser’s VHF radio net, where boaters trade information on weather and sea conditions around the Abacos, as well as tips on marina deals, restaurant specials and even local flea markets. We’d planned to head for Green Turtle Cay, but our plans were changed by a local condition called “rage sea”. The wind and swells sometimes create breaking seas in the passages between the Sea of Abaco and the Atlantic, making them impassable. In our case, the remains of a storm far to the north had created huge surf in Whale Cay Passage and we would have to wait for another day to reach Green Turtle. In the Abacos, that’s “No problem, mon”.

Instead, we walked into “town”, which is mostly a collection of cheerfully painted houses plus a good grocery that provided a few items we’d forgotten. A local conch vendor had a table arrayed with his wares, but we were delighted with our own finds and knew we’d discover more.

We used the afternoon to venture up to Baker’s Bay at the end of Great Guana, where we could clearly see massive breakers rolling through the passage in the distance. We anchored in water so clear we worried that our anchor would knock a starfish that we could easily see on the bottom, and again we explored the beach, discovering several additional conchs.

We had heard about nearby Treasure Island, a huge facility that once provided cruise ship passengers with a Disney-like atmosphere in a tropical setting of restaurants, beaches, water activities and bars until it was suddenly abandoned a decade ago. We tied up to the rundown pier and walked up the weedy path into the facility that is overgrown and eerie. Feeling like we’d discovered Jungleland after a nuclear holocaust, we explored the vine-covered amphitheatre and restaurants with palms growing through their floors until multi-engined mosquitos drove us back to the beach.

The rage continued the next day, so we opted to visit Treasure Cay, a resort marina on Great Abaco. En route, I let the autopilot steer while we enjoyed quesadillas and icy beers. Finding the entry was a bit tricky because it’s invisible until you’re close but, once inside, we picked up a transient dock right in front of the swimming pool. Shorepower and water were inexpensive, so I hosed down the boat to get rid of salt and sand, and we tucked in for the evening with the air conditioning keeping us pleasantly cool. The next morning, we explored the Treasure Cay area, which lays claim to one of the best beaches in the world. That night, we dined ashore at the Tipsy Bar (aptly named if you sample their Goombay Smashes) and enjoyed lobster with Caesar salads.

A brilliant sunset over the low-lying islands caps another perfect day.

The next day, we headed for Elbow Cay and the harbour of Hopetown. Even with charts and GPS, the entrance is twisty and we got down to 5ft of water before we slid into the pretty harbour marked by the candy-cane red-and-white striped lighthouse. Opting for shorepower dockside rather than the generator at anchor, we chose the Hope Town Marina, where the friendly dockmaster warped us into a slip with a view of the lighthouse. We shared hors d’oeuvres with a couple honeymooning on a Sea Ray at the next pier and, later, the steady sweep of the 138-year-old kerosene light (seen on everything from postage stamps to Bahamas currency) hypnotised us into a deep sleep.

We explored Hopetown by dinghy and foot the next day, marvelling at the brilliantly painted houses that somehow managed to survive Hurricane Floyd’s 229-mph winds and then topped off our provisions (and rum) before heading for Man O’War Cay nearby.

Over incredibly blue-green water, we cruised through Man O’War’s harbour but decided not to pay to tie up temporarily to explore ashore, knowing that we would also be saving money we would have spent at Albury’s canvas shop to buy bags and gifts. Besides, Man O’War is a dry island (no alcohol sold or, theoretically, consumed), so we couldn’t even enjoy a pub. We anchored in the eastern harbour for lunch, and decided to return to the Moorings base that night, since our charter ended the next morning and we had an early flight home.
It had been a relaxing charter, with none of the muscle needed to handle the lines on sailing charters (even our anchor windlass was electric!), the comfortably protected Sea of Abaco hadn’t challenged our skills, and we could recommend it to novice charterers wholeheartedly.

Moorings offers three powerboats: our 372 catamaran, the 341 which is a charter version of the nifty Luhrs lobsterboat-styled express cruiser that is perfect for a couple, and the 454, a larger catamaran with four staterooms, each with private heads and showers. In addition to the Abacos base at Marsh Harbour, The Moorings has a new base in St Thomas, where charterers can explore the US and British Virgin Islands, which are a bit more demanding of boating skills than the Bahamas.
Whether your interests lie in snorkelling through crystal clear waters among squadrons of brilliant tropical fish, hunting conch shells on beaches where yours are the first footprints, or simply relaxing at anchor with a trashy paperback, The Moorings and the Abacos have just what you want. We’ll be back soon.

Chartering Tips

How To Get There: Several airlines fly from Miami, Ft. Lauderdale and Palm Beach airports direct to Marsh Harbour in the Bahamas.

Cost: The season is the key, with the most expensive season during the Christmas holidays and from late February to July, while the low season is mid-August to mid-October. In the prime season, our 372 is $760 a day, dropping to $610 for the mid season and $540 for the low. A good way to save is to book immediately before or after a more expensive season, when you’ll get the same weather at a discount. Add in provisioning, either at a store or through the Moorings plans that provide several choices ranging from $20 to $45 per day depending on the number of meals. You should probably take insurance at $35 a day, and our fuel cost for the week was less than $75. If you want to tie up to a mooring buoy or in a marina rather than anchoring, expect to pay from $10 to $40 per night plus electricity and water.

How To Save $$: In addition to chartering in the off season, we save by taking a lot of our own food. We stock up on steaks, chicken, fish and shrimp at discount stores, freeze them hard, and ship them in an ice chest to save on the often exorbitant island prices. Enjoy happy hour on your boat, because rum is dirt cheap but prices can be $6 to $10 per drink in a shoreside pub. Besides, you’ve got a better view on your own boat. Shop airfares for discounts, or use frequent flier miles to keep travel costs down.

What To Take: Everyone takes too much, so pare down. In a soft-sided easy-to-store duffel, pack a couple of swimsuits (so one can dry), t-shirts, deck shoes, beach sandals, and a light jacket for cool days in the off season. In the Abacos, you’ll live in a swimsuit, but bring a nice shirt and shorts if you want to dine ashore. You’ll need a good hat, polarized sunglasses to see into the water, and strong sunscreen to prevent burns. Take tons of film and/or batteries for the camera, some CDs for the stereo, and a canvas tote to carry cameras or gear ashore (and conchs back).

Must Read: Let me immodestly suggest Chartering A Boat, written by yours truly, Chris Caswell, and published by Sheridan House, at bookstores everywhere.

Editor’s note: For more information about charters in the Abacos, visit our Bahamas page.