A rainbow follows a brief shower at Tilloo Cay

Don't worry about a thing,
Cause every little thing gonna be all right.
Singing, don't worry about a thing,
Cause every little thing gonna be all right.

Bob Marley


Living large in the Abacos

From the Captain

2/23/14  Tilloo Cay to Marsh Harbour,

Yesterday started with the morning rituals: listening to the cruisers' net; checking in with our companions on VHF channel 8; bathing in the ocean; rinsing off the salt in Luna's shower, eating breakfast. A muffin for the commander. Granola for the captain. Both made in the oven on board.

We've been doing our best to keep the salt out of the cabin, but I think we're fighting a losing battle. Little by little, it has crept in, and where it lies, which is about everywhere, it holds water and creates a damp feeling. We're starting to feel it when we sit on the cushions, and it gets in the sheets. Time to do a laundry and figure out how to clean the upholstery. But in the meantime, we're looking forward to the songwriters' festival.

We take Luna over to Lubbers' Landing, the beach bar and resort on the next island north. It's only about a half-mile from us, but we're trying to spare ourselves the dinghy ride there and back. There is a south wind that is kicking up a light chop. It's worth it to move the big boat in order to stay dry. And, sitting on the deck at the Landing, it's nice to see Luna at anchor in the background.

The workshop turns out to be about a half-dozen young musicians and songwriters from Nashville.

Bruce: "Would you call this folk or country music?" Captain: "They're singing about girls, drinking, cars, and an occasional reference to Jesus. It's country."

These were musicians of some renown. Jesse Rice wrote the number one country song in 2013, a tune comparing his girl to a song that makes him want to roll down his truck windows and cruise. Everyone else in the bar, it seems, sang along. Clearly we don't follow country music.

Django Walker, left, and friends sing at Lubbers Landing

Django Walker was another performer. We are familiar with his father, Jerry Jeff. Someone asked him to do Mr. Bojangles. "I don't know that one," he said with a bit of a twinkle. We were sitting right next to the performers, and I said he must hear that request a lot. "More than you can imagine," he responded.

The concert was punctuated by an announcement of the victory of the Canadian men's hockey team over the Americans in the Olympic semifinal match. This news was greeted with great enthusiasm by many of the patrons, including our table mates.

Sitting on the deck at a bar, having lunch and a beer, listening to the concert, looking out over the water, enjoying the sunshine and the shade, one can start to feel a decadence of sorts. This would take some getting used to. But not much.

Listening to the song writers' concert

 This morning we set our sights on Marsh Harbour. Brian has called around to the marinas there and found the best one. This is Mangoes, a small facility that will take us for seventy cents a foot plus five dollars a day for water. There is a laundromat and pool. Internet on the dock. There are showers. We're in!

In the meantime, the cruiser's net is active. Snappas, a restaurant near the marina, is hosting Bocce Ball Sunday. Anyone can play. If you come alone, they will find you a partner. They note that bocce ball is being considered for an Olympic sport. This is good news--along with curling, they need another sport for athletes in the latter part of their third decade and beyond.

Bocce Ball, Bahamian style

Winch cleaning, in progress

Unfortunately for us, we'll arrive too late to sign up for bocce at Snappas. We're leaving at 11 am to take advantage of the 1 pm high tide. In the meantime, I spent the morning taking apart the mainsheet winch, cleaning the gears and regreasing them. Here could be another Olympic sport, if they're looking for one, though perhaps not as exciting to watch as curling. I would have finished dead last in the competition, but the winch sure sounds and works better. There are seven others to tackle.

From cruisers in the area, the VHF crackles with updates of the Canada vs. Sweden hockey match for the gold medal. Finally someone announces the 3-0 final score. Canada has the gold.

The south wind carried us north to Marsh Harbour. Again, to avoid shallow areas, we sailed a twisted course, but we could maintain 4.5 to 5 knots under sail alone, and arrived at the marina by 1:30 pm.

We last had a proper shower in Black Point on 2/6. The shower here was only lukewarm, but imagine how nice it felt to stand there and let the water pour over us! We have become masters of water conservation. We can shower on Luna in a quart of water. Cleaning up in the kitchen, we save the rinse water and reheat it to wash the next meal's dishes.

Luna at Mangoes
Marina

The commander did a load of laundry. We have a working internet connection right from the boat. Most of Marsh Harbour is closed on Sunday, but Curly Tails, the bar next door, is open. Six of us gather for a late lunch.

At sundown, cruisers from the other boats gather on the dock to perform the Bahamian ritual of sending off the sun to the sound of a conch shell, blown like a trumpet. Curiously, we have never seen an actual Bahamian do this. There are four conch-blowers among the cruisers. Each shell is a different size and tone. The sound vibrates horribly from the competing notes all out of tune. Silently, the sun surrenders and hurries away.

We talk with some of our neighbors. Most, it seems, keep their boats down here, living on the dock in the winter, storing the boats in the summer. The demographic is older retired. I can see the attraction. Showers, laundry, stores in town, convenient internet connection, dock parties, restaurants, nearby bars, good weather, sites to cruise if the spirit moves you.

I'm thinking how this wouldn't be a bad way to spend our time. And then the email comes. Krista, whom we left in Little Farmers Cay, sent a photo she took when she and Phil were with the group in Warderick Wells. It is a long shot. Brian is standing at the edge of a cliff, taking a photo. The water, displaying all the shades of blue, stretches to the horizon. The sky, dark and somewhat menacing, brings out the color of the sea. There is nothing else in the photo.




So which is it? The civilized side of the Bahamas, somewhat decadent, constantly on vacation? Or the rugged side with the heart-achingly beautiful vistas that delight the eyes and stir the soul? As with visiting the American southwest: Do you sleep out in the desert among the hoodoo rocks with the "billion stars all around?" Or do you check out the scenery from your car and head into town to stay at the posh Holiday Inn?

Think it over. Let me know. In the meantime, I'm heading over to the bar for a rum punch. Discuss amongst yourselves.

2/23/14-2/28/14 Marsh Harbour

This is vacation week on Luna. Rest week. We're at the dock. No pressure to move, to raise and lower the anchor. To secure the cabin, or monitor the level of fuel in the diesel tank. No concerns about water, the batteries, or the holding tank. We'd probably be bored stiff if it weren't for so much to do in Marsh Harbour.

Our visit starts with a thorough cleaning of the boat. There is water at the dock, so we attach our hose and wash the salt off Luna. We wash and rinse the rugs in the cabin and the cushions in the cockpit.  I wash the floor. I get some upholstery cleaner and clean and vacuum the cushions from the cabin. The commander does multiple loads of laundry. We've made a big dent in the level of salt in the cabin, and this feels much better.

Marsh Harbour is a fairly large town. Within walking distance of the marina are a large supermarket, a barber shop, and two large hardware stores, three if you count the NAPA auto parts store that also sells some hardware items. There is a shop that sells fresh fish right down the road. There are bakeries and several banks. There are gift and clothing stores. There's even a Kentucky Fried Chicken down the road toward the airport.

There's even a traffic light at the corner of Queen Elizabeth Drive and Don McKay Blvd. There are lots of cars. No golf carts. Very few side walks, no shoulders. It is not a pedestrian-friendly town

But you can get just about anything you need here. Except, I discover, a one-inch hose barb. Occasionally, we are getting an odor from Luna's holding tank, and I think the fitting at the discharge port is loose. I want to replace it. But it will not be done here. None of the hardware stores carry that size.

I walked up and got a haircut from the barber. We shopped at the supermarket and bought some fresh trigger fish filets from the fish vendor. I bought some freshly baked banana bread and a jar of hot pepper jelly at the bakery, which is next to the barber.

Ray, left, dock master at Mangoes, always friendly and helpful

I asked Ray, the knowledgeable and very helpful dock master at Mangoes, to recommend a mechanic. I would like to change Luna's fuel filter and set the valve clearances for the trip back. I'm not sure when these routine maintenance items were done last. Ray recommended a place right across the street, and I talked with Brian Symonette, the owner. He deals with solar installations, generators, starters, and, apparently, is a good diesel mechanic.

Brian and his assistant, Steve, came aboard and did the filter and the valves. He showed me how I could do this myself. Steve noticed the alternator belt was getting worn, and replaced and adjusted this as well. As with the VHF radio, I was very pleased with the quality and thoroughness of the work done here in the Bahamas. And the cost was reasonable.

Our group of six spreads the happy hour wealth. One day we are at Mangoes. The next day, we go next door to Snappas and have some drinks. It is pizza night there, and we get some pizzas for dinner. I decide that in the future here, I'll stick to the seafood.

Last night, staff from the tourist bureau threw a party at the marina. Open to all, the gathering featured music, dancing, beer, trivia games and prizes, and Bahamian food, including cracked conch, conch fritters, barbecue ribs, macaroni and cheese, chicken wings, and slices of fresh fruit with peach pound cake.

The first trivia question was, "Name five ways to cook conch." We've had them at least six ways: cracked (breaded and deep fried) conch, conch fritters, conch chowder, conch burgers, and, in Bimini, conch salad and conch stew. One of our Toronto friends won the prize.

Ladies from the tourist bureau welcome us to the party

The director of the bureau made a welcoming speech about how much they appreciate the part-time residents and cruisers. "Of all the places in the world, you have picked Abaco, and we are honored," she said.

This is definitely not Casablanca, where Bogey, as Rick, grouses to Sam, "In all the gin joints in all the countries in all the world, she has to walk into mine."  And it's not Vermont, where we call the tourists "flatlanders."

I am thinking, "My God, these people are thanking us?" What a wonderful, warm, hospitable place they have. I realize their economy depends heavily on tourism, and they take this very seriously. But what a kind way to promote hospitality and good feelings. I would certainly come back here. Of course, that's assuming we can tear ourselves away in the first place.

There are dance contests, a limbo contest, and a fashion show from Mangoes' boutique. The evening ends with a lively demonstration by a local Junkanoo group. I love how Junkanoo, a tradition going back to slave times when participants wore elaborate masks so their masters couldn't identify them, has become a centerpiece of the cultural interface between the Bahamians and their white visitors.

And I love Junkanoo. Delighted by the dancers, awed by the elaborate costumes, energized by the drummers, we can't keep still. At the end of the two-hour party, having had too many Kaliks, lots of Bahamian appetizers, and dancing nearly to exhaustion, I barely had room for the grilled fresh triggerfish still to come on Luna. But we managed.

Another cold front is approaching today, and there are going to be high winds and rain for the next two days. We have been aware of this front in the weather forecast, and that is one reason we are staying at the marina. It looks like we will leave here on Saturday, 3/1, for Hope Town, then north up the Abaco chain.

Junkanoo dancers