In the first few years I had my 24'Topaz in Florida, we had read about how easy it is to cross the Gulfstream to the Bahamas. So my brother and I and a couple of friends decide to try it. We did all the research, figured that we wanted to go to Treasure Cay. 168 nautical miles from Stuart, FL. 17 knot boat, so we guess about 10-11 hours of running. We had to delay our departure by one day to let the remnants of a easterly wave subside, but it was not too rough to fish. We were not out too long, and decided not to top off the fuel before leaving the next day. <br /><br />The seas subsided, and at 6am the next morning, we were on our way eastward across the gulfstream. We had done a lot of research, and knew intellectually how to account for the crosstrack error of the northerly flow of the stream. Well, with all the food, ice, fishing and safety equipment, we were only able to make a "speed made good" of 14 knots. The course took us first to Memory Rock, where you can enter the bank and was our first site of anything solid in 5 hours. But all was well, we were Bahamian waters, and cruising the turquoise waters of the little Bahama bank headed for our next landmarks, Great and Little Sale Cays, still just rocks, but much bigger. As we rounded the NW corner of Sale Cay, I checked the fuel and was dismayed to see 1/4 in each tank. We still had about 60 miles to Treasure Cay, and it was about 3 O'clock in the afternoon. Thanks to our cruising guide to the Abacos, we knew there was fuel in Foxtown, the most Northern Settlement on Great Abaco Island. We decided to take our chances, and pull into the marina, even though we had not cleared customs. We read the chart and idled the last mile or so into the harbour weaving in and out of the submerged rocks we could see on the bottom. The depth finder showed 6' depths, but we could SEE these rocks and they scared us. We just were not used to the gin clear water. <br /><br />We pulled up to the fuel dock and were greeted by a half a dozen youngsters, who we gave the last of our oreos, in exchange for finding someone who could sell us some fuel. There were no adults in sight. There was a little shanty up the hill about a 100 yards or so, but that was the only building in site. Foxtown is not a Bahamian resort!! About thirty minutes later, the kids return with someone who says he can sell us some gas. We don't need gas, we need diesel fuel. "Oh, we got no diesel, mon!" Then another man appears at the top of the hill and he yells to him that we need diesel. The man yells back, "We got diesel, mon, it is in da tank behind the house". So the two of them start pulling the hose down the hill towards the dock, and I am thinking, how good can this fuel be? But of course, they are the only game around, and it is now about 5pm and we still have 40 miles to go. <br /><br />The key to my fuel fill was on a ring with the ignition key (the only one in existance) with a float with one of those medal chains. One twist to remove the fuel cap, and I hear, chink, plop, Uh oh. The chain broke and the key fell into the water, about 4 feet deep. So my buddy Tom puts on a mask and says "hold my feet". After about 30 seconds, he starts kicking wildly, and we pull him back in the boat. "Geez" he says, "I had the key as soon as I went under, why wouldn't you let me up?" Just making sure.<br /><br />So we put the nozzle in the fill, and the guy yells up the hill. "start cranking, Mon". It was a hand pump! We put in 20 gallons in each tank, thank them, pay them and we are on the way. <br /><br />Back out of the harbor and into the Abaco sound to run south along the shoreline to Treasure Cay, and it is well after six. This was in May, so we figure we had light until about 8pm. Right as we get to the beach at Treasure Cay, the last bit of daylight goes away, and we find ourselves in total darkness, with a tricky channel into the harbor. So we throw an anchor, and try to raise some help on the VHF to pilot us in. Finally, we get the guy that runs the boat rentals on the radio, and he agrees to come get us. That is after he finishes his game of pool, and takes a sandwich down to his wife. He shows up about 10 pm. "Follow me, I know a shortcut" he says, and runs his little outboard in and out of all of these rocks while we desperately try to keep up and follow his lead. And he didn't have a working stern light. Finally, we are in the main channel to the harbor and we can see the lights of the marina. It felt like that scene in the original "Apocalypse Now". He shows us where to tie up, and asks for $100, which we gladly pay him. I asked if there was anyway to summons the customs officer to clear in, and he says, "no way mon, da phones are don and he is all da way don in Marsh Harbor". "What do we do?", we ask. He just says, "fly ya yella flag, stay on da boat, and he be don in da morning".<br /><br />What a day!! And that was just the beginning of a very interesting trip. I went on to go back and forth from FL to the Bahamas many times, but I was much better prepared for what to expect. 