The current is so strong the town is called The Current

To continue our way north we had to go through a narrow passage between two long stretches of land. That channel provides very little room for the whole lot of water on either side that wants to perpetually follow the tide. The consequence is “vicious currents” of “monumental proportions” that scare cruisers, especially first-timers.

So, what’s the name of that cut? You guessed, it’s called Current Cut. And the name of the island south of the cut (the one on the north being actually Eleuthera)? Yup, Current Island indeed. And the rock you would hit if you don’t turn on time? Correct, that’s Current Rock. And the nearby town? Right again, that’s no other than The Current. And what island is The Current on? Nope, you didn’t guess this time, sorry. The Current is not on Current Island, but on the Eleuthera side of Current Cut. I guess it was founded by the same bright guys who founded Kansas City in Missouri.

They say the current at Current Cut can exceed ten knots. That’s about two knots more than the top motoring speed of Ñandú. So, yeah, fighting a strong opposing current is a lost battle. A strong favoring current may seem like a good deal, but it’s not. You need some speed over the water for the rudders to be effective, and going twelve-plus knots when you have to avoid rocks might also lead to a lost battle. Only you’d lose in a more spectacular way than with an opposing current. In fact, if I had to go with such a strong favorable current I’d probably motor against the current in order to reduce the speed over ground (read “speed over the rocks”). What I’m not sure is whether I’d do it facing forward and motoring in reverse, or facing backwards and motoring forward.

People will of course tell you to pass with slack water, but that’s quite a piece of unhelpful advice. Not so much because it’s obvious, but because there’s no reliable way to know when the current goes slack. It’s supposed to be about two hours after high or low tide… except when it’s not, because the wind strength and direction can have a significant effect. And even if we knew exactly when slack was, we were more than 30 nautical miles away. With our wildly variable sailing speed, it could have taken us anywhere between four and eight hours to get there; no easy way to time the arrival anyway. A much simpler and equally sound advice would be “just go there and see what happens”. Even better if there’s someone ahead of you.

As it happened, we reached Current Cut two hours after low tide, and faced an already increasing but manageable opposing current of two knots. There was no other boat doing the Cut ahead of us, though. Too bad, because I was really looking forward to ask for “The Current’s current current” on the radio.

All that stress anticipating an epic battle left us exhausted, even if the battle didn’t occur.  We swiftly anchored right after the crossing and the next morning we beached the dinghy and strolled around The Current. It turned out to be a lovely and slow-paced town.