From the Captain

Toward Georgetown

1/24/24-1/26/14 Blackpoint Settlement, Great Guana Cay

We're enjoying this island, so we spent a few days here. The commander took advantage of Ida's offer for a haircut. She caught up on emails and paid some bills with the free wi fi service. On our computer, the internet service is spotty, but the best we've had since leaving Nassau. We're amazed at how large a part instant communication has come to play in our lives, and how much we are missing it.

Yesterday, we took the dinghy into shore. While the commander went to the laundromat for the internet, I filled some water jugs at the town tap. They have a reverse osmosis plant to desalinate the water and offer it for a donation to cruisers. I refilled Luna's water tank and brought two 7 gallon jugs in along with a few jugs for drinking water. For the water and the bag of trash we will leave behind, I put $10.00 into a donation box along with our boat card and a note thanking them for providing us with water and taking our trash.

There was a time when most of the water for these dry islands came from cisterns that collected rainwater. There was not water to spare. Now, it seems that the settlements have water makers, and refilling our water supply has not been a problem.

Driftwood garden at Blackpoint

We took a long walk with Brian and Jane. We walked to the south end of the island by the diesel power generation station. At one house near the end of the road an artist has created a sculpture garden with driftwood. We walked back through town to the other end where there are some new cottages facing the banks. We were able to walk to the east, down to the ocean.

We haven't seen the ocean side of the Exumas yet, and the colors are stunning. Several shades of blue, and the darkest, over the deepest water lights up with a richness we haven't seen before. Score one for God's side. Man's side, on the other hand, is not so nice. All sorts of bits of plastic, fishing nets, a swim fin, and other flotsam litter the rocky beach. Mother Nature One. Humanity Zero. I'm not sure I want to be around when the final score is tallied.

There is a blow hole over here. It's an opening to an underwater cave. We are here near high tide. As the waves come in, a plume of spray emanates from the hole in the rock. Then a geyser of water shoots up, the Old Faithful of the sea. There is a plastic gallon jug washed up next to the blow hole. On a whim, I throw it in, imagining I will see it burped up on the next wave. It does not return to the surface. Defiled yet again, the sea is in no mind to give me the satisfaction of my game.

A geyser of ocean water

We were back in town by mid-afternoon. We stopped at Scorpio for a beer and something to eat. At that time, it wasn't crowded. On this Saturday afternoon, lots of Bahamians are outside. Kids are playing in the school yard. People are walking on the street and sitting around talking. At a pavilion behind the restaurant, a group of men are shooting dice, money in hand. Others are playing dominoes . They slap the tiles loudly onto the table.

Inside, the waitress (and cook) is sitting at the other end of the long bar. She smiles at me and says, "You never got your conch fritters."

Indeed, we were there last night for a happy-hour rum punch. I stuck my head in the window of the kitchen and asked if we could have some fritters. She said, "Yes, no problem."

We were at the bar for a while. We finished our drinks. We lingered. No fritters appeared. I figured she forgot, or misunderstood. Not wanting to be out after dark again, we paid for the drinks and left.

I felt bad. "I thought you had forgotten," I told her. "And we didn't want to get back after dark." I told her about our adventure trying to find Luna the first night. I offered to pay for the fritters.

"No problem," she said. "Were you able to use them or did they go to waste?" I asked. "I ate them," she replied.

Restaurant service is slow here. There is no sense of hurry among the staff. The little kitchens seem understaffed. Brian and Jane leave. The commander and I wait almost an hour for lunch. By the time we're done, this will be dinner as well.

While we're eating, the friendly waitress, Genia, comes and sits with us. She wonders where we're from. She knows where Vermont is. She has spent some time in Pittsburgh recently, taking care of her cousin's children. While there, she saw snow for the first time, and was able to drive on the slippery roads on, for her, the wrong side of the road. (As in England, Bahamians drive on the left). She grew up in Nassau and studied culinary arts at the university there. She's the age of our youngest son and her birthday is coming up on Superbowl day. She has a delightful smile.

By the time we get back to Luna, it's nearly time for happy hour on Harmonium. Krista is offering to make painkillers. We radio over to say we're needing some down time and will catch her next time around.

1/26/14. Great Guana Cay to Big Farmer's Cay. 9.8 nm.

At morning discussion (8 am on VHF channel 8), the group decides to move south. Our goal is to take the short ride to Little Farmer's Cay. The day is cloudy and squalls appear in the east, moving toward us. The wind is from the north at 12-15 with higher gusts, but as the dark clouds approach, we elect to leave the sails furled and motor toward our destination. The wind comes up, and a light rain starts as we near the south end of Little Farmer's Cay. We tuck in near the shore in calm water, drop the anchor and have lunch.

From here, Carol and I will split off from the group for a while. We are visiting some folks next door on Big Farmer's Cay. We met Steve and Cindy in Vermont last summer. They are friends of our friends and neighbors, Diane and Charlie Gottlieb. Knowing of our plans to travel to the Bahamas, Diane invited the four of us to dinner.

Steve and Cindy have built a 15-sided vacation home on a wooded bluff overlooking a small cove.

Happy Hour at Prospect Point

There are views of the ocean to the east and the Bahama Bank to the west. Luna rests at anchor in the middle of the picturesque cove. Little Farmer's is a few hundred yards across the channel.

They have sailed extensively and once ran a yacht brokerage, and Steve entertains us with stories of boats and voyages. They tell us about the area and the small community on Little Farmer's Cay. We have cocktails out on the deck, and Cindy makes a delicious dinner of pasta with clam sauce. Upping the ante to my recipe, she adds sun-dried tomatoes and artichoke hearts to the pan.

One of the island friends visits for happy hour

They have recently arrived on the island from the U.S., and the mailboat, which brings fresh produce to the island will not be here for a couple days. We are able to contribute a head of iceberg lettuce, an onion, a few sprigs of fresh basil, and a tomato from Luna's kitchen. As well as a bar of nice dark chocolate for dessert.

Musha Cay, owned by David Copperfield, is a little south of here.  Steve and Cindy knew him in his younger days when, under a different surname, he was their high school classmate. At the time, he was the sort of guy who would come up to you and pull a quarter out of your ear. I gather this did not endear him entirely to his schoolmates, perhaps because he didn't offer to split the proceeds with them. Of course, that was in the earlier times. He was just honing his magical skills. I imagine today he could walk up to you and pull a large circus animal out of your ear, leaving you to deal with the mess that had accumulated in there.

Steve and Cindy have visited Musha Cay. Otherwise, the entire island is available for rent. For $260,000 or so  per week, you and up to 19 of your friends may stay in the five villas there. I gather there are many takers.

Steve has offered to help me check a few things on Luna. Our VHF range isn't what it should be, and I want to go up the mast to clean the contacts on the antenna. And he will take a look at the autopilot with me. He also knows some nice snorkeling spots around and offered to teach us to spear fish. So, as our group of three buddy boats moves toward Georgetown tomorrow, we will stay behind and rejoin them later in the week.

1/27/13

Luna from above

Today started on a high note. As the Royal Canadian Navy sailed out the inlet after many good byes on the radio, Steve brought out his bosun's chair and hauled me up the mast on the spare jib sheet. The commander took up the spinnaker halyard, tied on as a safety line. The water was glass calm. The view from 50 feet up was expansive, but most impressive looking down at Luna on sitting on a tabletop of turquoise. I removed the VHF antenna. The contact looked clean. Nonetheless, I cleaned the area with sandpaper and a wire brush, sprayed with WD 40, and screwed the antenna back tightly.

This did absolutely nothing to help the radio range. Later, we took the radio into the house and attached it to the VHF antenna there. We called out a radio check to any boat that could hear us. There was a clear response from Big Major Spot, more than 20 miles away. The radio is OK. I will need to go back up the mast with a new antenna. Hopefully I can find one in Georgetown.

Meanwhile Steve, a remarkable can-do sort of guy eager for a new challenge, has dived into the cockpit locker to look at the autopilot. I reviewed the diagram with him, told him what I have done so far and the challenge that has stopped me from attaching the control cable to the rudder bracket. He gets no further than I did, but takes the next step, removes the bracket, attaches the cable, reassembles the whole thing, and climbs out leaving a repaired unit. We'll see next time we're underway if this works. He is amazed we have been able to get this far without the autopilot. "Steering constantly is exhausting." We fully agree, but you don't miss what you don't know. We've never really had it to appreciate.

The weather is sunny and warm. The series of continually recurring cold fronts seems to have abated for now. We have never seen the water around here so smooth. We imagine a bar top with starfish and coral coated with a layer of clear epoxy. Steve and Cindy take us in their boat to a sandbar extending at low tide about a mile west from Musha Cay. A scene from Pirates of the Caribbean was filmed here. Johnny Depp has an island nearby.

We wade ashore bearing lunch and beach chairs. There is sand and water on both sides of us. Later, we take snorkeling gear and spearguns to a reef nearby to check out the scenery and look for dinner. Nothing suitable for the latter. Steve fires up the big outboard, and we motor out to the deeper sound to look at another coral field.

Off the beach there is a garden of elk horn coral. Swimming by, head down, was like hovering weightless over the upturned antlers of a herd of moose, standing in a magical clearing among shapes of brain coral, fan coral, little tunnels, hills, and valleys. There are more colorful fish.  A grouper sits at the opening to an underwater passage, but he's safe from us: grouper is not in season now. Back in the boat with our hosts, we return to their cove, spirits elevated by the underwater scenery even if the fish box is empty.

Later, after a shower, we motor across the channel into town. Cindy and Steve show us around. They are friendly with all fifty residents on Little Farmer's Cay, and we meet many of them. They are pleased we plan to return for their festival next week, the annual First Friday of February Festival on Farmer's Cay.

At twilight, Steve finds Aiden, who  has just returned with his fishing boat, loaded with fresh fish.They fish here mostly with traps. These are large wire cages baited and left on the bottom for several days. Steve talks to him on the dock, and he cleans and sells me a large triggerfish for the four of us and two snappers the commander and I will put in our freezer for tomorrow night. Cindy cooks the fish in a pan with oil, garlic, black beans, and tomatoes. We leave a good portion of it behind for their dinner tomorrow.

What a nice visit we have had.

Steve and Cindy, our hosts on Farmer's Cay

From the Captain   Down to Civilization

1/20/14 Staniel Cay

The front has passed, and we're due for a couple nice days before the next one comes. We move the boat closer to town and anchor just south of Thunderball Cave, a large natural cavern on one of the limestone islands in the harbor. It's a short dinghy ride to the beach next to the Staniel Cay Yacht Club. The little harbor looks so peaceful, we decide to cancel our slip at the Yacht Club.

This is a nice little place. The people in the settlement are nice. The marina has slips, sells gas, diesel fuel, and water purified and desalinated by reverse osmosis ($.40 per gallon). There is an airport for small planes and air service to Nassau and beyond. The yacht club (marina) has a restaurant and bar and several little cabins for rent on the harbor. Walk to the Atlantic side and look over the hill, and there are fancy houses being developed, a recurrent theme on these small cays. There is an exclusive club on Fowl Cay just north of here. You can stay in a cottage with an all-inclusive package for $10,000 per week.

There are three groceries on the Staniel Cay. The Blue Store, The Pink Store, and the Isles General Store. The commander walks up to all three. These are tiny, one-room stores. They're not really in competition because each sells slightly different goods. From the Blue store, we buy a quart of yogurt and a few limes.

The woman at the Pink Store is especially friendly. She tells Carol how to make peas and rice, a traditional Bahamian dish. She recommends bacon or pork, rice, peas, and thyme. Carol buys a can of pigeon peas to try it out. With the storekeeper's approval, she uses chicken stock instead of the bacon and adds a small piece of one of the goat peppers from Nassau. It makes a nice variation to the beans and rice meal. I add a few chunks of canned chicken meat to mine.

The proprietress directs us to Sandy, a local fisherman who lives around the corner. We find him at his house, but because of the rough weather, he hasn't been out and has no fresh fish to sell us.

A small subunit of the Royal Canadian Navy is here, of course. Eight of us meet at the yacht club for lunch. It's friendly, informal, Bahamian. Bar in the front. Open dining room behind. Ceiling fans. Burgees from visiting cruisers hanging from the ceiling. Photos of large fish and sailboats. Open to the outside through large screened windows. Turqoise waters and boats in the view. I have, what else, a conch burger and a Kalik. The commander has a fried fish platter.

Anchored at Thunderball Entrance

At low tide, slack current, the commander and I take the dinghy over to Thunderball cave. Anchoring the dinghy outside, we put on our fins and masks and snorkels and swim under the small arch that forms the entrance. This is underwater at high tide.

This is a magnificent place. Looking down, we're treated to colorful coral formations and even more colorful fish. The fish don't seem particularly mindful of intruders. The guidebook says to bring some bread crumbs or canned corn to feed them. We just watch.

The vault has a high ceiling, and there is another room through a passageway further on. There are other entrances to the cave, and shafts of light reach down into the sparkling blue water, illuminating the coral formations beneath. It would be a perfect movie set. In fact. it was a perfect movie set. Scenes from the James Bond movie, Thunderball, were filmed in here. This gave the cave its name. I'm not sure what it was called before. I'm anxious to see the movie, though.

light at the back entrance to Thunderball Cave

Colorful fish and coral in the cave

1/21/14-1/22/14 Staniel Cay, Bahamas

This is another nice day. Fairly warm, partly sunny, calm winds. There is another front coming tonight. This is the quiet before the storm. A typical frontal pattern starts with a calm, then the wind begins from the south, then turns clockwise through the west to the northwest to north. Tonight, predictions call for a strong wind  (22-30 kts) that will turn westward around midnight and gradually clock northward in the morning.

These cold fronts are coming through twice a week. We have two relatively calm days every week or ten days. Not what we expected, the weather continues to be a central character in this travelogue.

The marina is abuzz with news of the weather and plans for the blow. The yacht club is quite exposed to the west wind, and they suggest people leave today. Boats are leaving the harbor where we are anchored for more sheltered spots.

The group is divided on where to anchor. Some of the boats go north into a narrow passage above Staniel Cay. This is protected from all directions, but is on a channel to an inlet, so would be affected by tidal currents. We elect to return to Big Majors Spot, where we anchored two nights ago. This is protected from north and northwest. To the south and west, however, is open water for 50 miles. If the wind stays in the west, we will have a rough night. However, the anchorage is large and open with a sandy bottom. The anchor will hold well in the sand, and there is no significant current here.

Given the choice, we will take rocking in the wind over swinging unpredictably in the current. Twenty other boats, including Mar-a-Lago, feel the same. The afternoon is calm, but there is a growing sense of expectation and anxiety about the place. People are furling their flags, checking and double checking their anchors. Tying things down.

We dinghy over to neighboring boats to meet them and to see that there is enough distance between us. Our neighbors to the south are a couple from New Zealand who have been cruising for 10 years, heading west through Europe and across the Atlantic to here. To the east is a boat from Boston. The skipper says, "Chris Parker is too alarmist. I don't think it will be that bad."

It is just as predicted. The sea is like a mother with an unregulated bipolar disorder. You don't want her rocking your cradle when she's in her manic phase. Such was the state of affairs as the winds built from the west around midnight. The wind was consistent. Luna pitched in the waves. Confident in our anchor, we slept, though fitfully. Eventually, the commander placed a pillow over her head to block the noises of the internal halyards and wires banging on the inside of the mast and fell soundly asleep.

I have an internal clock that sets an hourly alarm when we have a difficult anchorage. I get up, look around, plot our position on the GPS, and make sure all is well. All is. Our anchor is holding, and we are not too close to our neighbors. On the iPad, we set a GPS point where we dropped the anchor. I can see our current position. It measures 148 feet from the anchor point. This is right. We have 110 feet of anchor rode and Luna is 35 feet long. Neither Luna nor the wind has shifted between 11 pm and 4 am. A line drawn from boat to anchor leads due west. Wind speed is measuring 18kts, gusting to 22.

Anchor line stretched tightly in rough anchorage

By morning, the line between boat and anchor is pointing more to the north northwest. The cove is still choppy. It will take a wet dinghy ride to go anywhere. So we stay aboard, reading and doing some small chores. We run the engine for an hour both to supplement the solar charger and heat up the hot water heater for a shower. We've been using our solar shower on deck after washing off in sea water. It's too cool and rough for a swim or an outdoor shower.

Jane from Mar-a-Lago calls on the radio to invite us over for happy hour. Their dinghy motor has stopped running and is over at the yacht club with Chubby, the repairman. Our skin is clean and desalinated, so we don't want to take even the short ride to their boat. Down below, we have a gin and tonic and some crackers with a hunk of Manchego cheese. Our stores are holding out pretty well, though lockers are noticeably emptier. The commander makes salmon cakes for dinner with peas from the freezer, and I grill a couple potatoes from the Pink Store.

Later, the wind has finally turned to the northeast, and the bay is quiet. Luna rocks gently. I turn in early and sleep soundly, making up for the lack of sleep the night before. I am up but once to check our position.

1/23/14 Staniel Cay to Blackpoint Settlement, Great Guana Cay, Bahamas. 9.5 nm.

Luna and the commander lean to the wind

The wind has moderated, and this is a delightful, sunny day. We pull up anchor, help Brian and Jane retrieve their dinghy motor from the  the yacht club,  reassemble the group, and sail down to Blackpoint. The wind is off our port quarter, the banks are fairly smooth. We are on a broad reach under sail only. It feels wonderful!

Blackpoint is just around the corner. Less than 5 miles away as the crow flies. Of course, the crow can fly over the series of reefs that sends us on a crooked course. By deeper water, it's 10 miles away. In other respects, it's a world away.

The first half of the Exumas have been sparsely inhabited. The cays are being bought up and developed at an alarming rate. David Copperfield owns at least one of the islands. In the view of some, he is part of a move to make the islands, as public trusts, disappear.  The wealthy developments do not cater to the cruisers. Anchoring off these cays has been like camping in the public lands of the American southwest. It's a wilderness experience.

Staniel Cay has a few stores and a marina. But you can't get a shower at the marina, and there are no public laundry machines in town. Blackpoint, on the other hand, is the first place we've encountered that seems to realize there is money to be made from the line of boats heading down the island chain.

Through history, white sails on the horizon have meant commerce to the Bahamians:

1814: "There's sails out there. Quick, Rolle, light the wrecking buoy. We'll drive her onto the rocks. Everyone, get the sledge hammers and wrecking bars. Get ready to launch the long boats."

2014: "There's sails out there. Quick, Rolle. Call Samson. Tell him to go out and get another load of conch and lobster and catch some grouper. Make sure there's enough propane for the fryer. Tell the women to set up the straw market. Herbert, make sure the bar is full; get another case of coconut rum and a few more cases of Kalik on the next mail boat. Turn up the ice machine.

Of course, in between these years the Bahamian islands have been a sea-centered thorn in America's side from the end of the pirate era. During the Civil War, Bahamian blockade runners provided a two-way conduit for Southern cotton and European manufactured goods. Then there was rum-running during the prohibition years and drug-smuggling for a time after that.

Unlike Staniel, there is a laundromat on Blackpoint. Of course, to call Rockpoint Laundry a laundromat is to call Walmart a store. Ida, the owner, has a half dozen or more new washers and dryers. She will also serve you a plate of six freshly made conch fritters for a dollar. For $10.00

Ida's waterfront Laundry in Blackpoint Settlement

($15.00 for women), she will cut your hair, right out on the deck, where people sit and use her wi-fi. She has postcards, hardware, and craft items for sale by the register. This is the only place we've found tonic water. You can take an 8-minute shower for $4.00 here. She has a few seaside cottages for rent.

George W. Bush, the axe-murderer of the English language, once said, "The problem with the French is that they have no word for entrepreneur." Ida is the entrepreneur's entrepreneur. And, obviously, she knows exactly what cruisers are looking for after having spent a couple of weeks poking around the wilderness in the northern Exumas. Laundry, shower, conch fritters, wi-fi, tonic water. What genius! She's even built a dinghy dock off the rocks in front of her seaside laundromat.

We bring in a large load of laundry. We buy two $3.50 tokens, one for the washer one from the dryer, from an American behind the counter. She is a cruiser from Martha's Vineyard. She's here for the first time, doing her wash. Roxanne had to go to a meeting and having just met, left her in charge. What more can you say about a friendly culture whose two most common words, spoken together, are "no" and "problem."

Happy Hour at Scorpios

Picking up on her entrepreneurial ways, Scorpio's, the bar across the street, advertises a two-for-one drink special for cruisers' happy hour. Ten of us meet there at 4 pm.

To the waitress: "We're here to order drinks."
"No problem. I'll send over the bartender."
"Can we order appetizers?"
"No problem."

The two-for-one rum punch specials were alluringly deadly. We stayed for dinner. No problem. The commander had fried grouper. I had an amazing Caribbean barbecue sparerib dinner. The ribs were tender and coated with a spicy sauce with echoes of coconut. It came with peas and rice, potato salad, macaroni casserole. Bill for our dinners was $24.00, including the 15% gratuity customarily added by Bahamian restaurants.

It was 7 pm when we left Scorpios. The moon is in the last quarter and not up until midnight. It was dark. Luna was unlighted, out there in the harbor somewhere. We have a solar light that for some reason I put on the dinghy. I should have left it on the sailboat.

We had a tense ride. The large schooner we had seen between us and the shore apparently had moved further out.
The dinghy dock behind us was dark. I lost our landmarks. We passed a few unlit sailboats, but none we recognized. We headed for the larger mass of anchor lights toward our friends. We came upon Amarone II. Bruce and Claude has just gotten back.

They had passed Luna on the way, and Bruce pointed out the direction. Claude gave us a flashlight. We started back just as Jacques was tying his dinghy to Millevasions. He, too, had passed Luna. He motored along side us and shepherded us back home. Luna, Millevasions, and Amarone II are in a line. Nice to have buddy boats. The commander said, "I wasn't worried." No problem.

Blackpoint Settlement harbor

Nassau to the Exumas

From the Captain

1/6-1/10/2014  Nassau Harbour

We spent a few days at the Nassau Harbour Club marina. We would rather have anchored out, but very strong north winds racked the area for three days, and we felt it best to be securely tied to a dock. Even then, Luna pitched unhappily, like a bucking horse confined in a small stall. We have not seen marinas with floating docks here, and keeping the dock lines tight in a three-foot tidal range presents its own problems. We were happy to move out on the 10th.

Nonetheless, we made the most of our time here. Nassau is a large city. Not at all like Bimini. There is congestion and noise and crime. People are not as friendly and open as on a small island. We learned first how to cross the busy one-way street in front of the marina. If you wait for cars to stop for you, you will grow old before you reach your destination. Bahamian drivers take the initiative. It's Boston on steroids. Pedestrians need to do the same. Step off the curve, make out like you're going to cross. Drivers stop to let you by. Perhaps grudgingly, but they don't honk at you. We always give a friendly wave and mouth, "Thank you."

There is a shopping center across from the marina. Here is a market. We enter the door and are transported--right back to the U.S. It's a supermarket with all the same stuff arranged in wide aisles. A little more expensive, but not grossly so. In the complex are also a Radio Shack, a Bed, Bath, and Beyond clone, and a Starbucks. We use the internet at Starbucks. Down the street are several well-stocked marine stores. We buy two booklets of Bahamian Explorer Charts for about the same price as in the U.S. When I looked in Ft. Lauderdale, there were none to be found.

There is a gas station where we can fill the fuel cans with diesel fuel. A bit beyond that is a bar, the Poop Deck, where the group meets for happy hour on the second night. Some people are going on toward the Exumas. Others are staying behind for a day or two until the strong north winds clear.

Further south, uptown, the main street, Bay Street, passes an area in transition which abruptly becomes the downtown area. Here the cruise ships dock, and there are three in port. The police are dressed in crisp white uniforms. There are high end diamond and watch shops, Gucci, fancy clothing stores. The government buildings are here, all pink colored, a throwback to the English colonial period that ended in 1974 with Bahamian independence.

The Bahamian National Gallery of Art

We walk up to the National Art Gallery of the Bahamas, a converted 19th-century mansion. The theme is 40 years of independence, and the exhibit showcases modern Bahamian artists. The style ranges from realistic to colorful island paintings to abstract. There are some politically themed works.

There is also an exhibit commemorating the sinking of the Flamingo. Shortly after independence, the new nation's defense forces ship intercepted two Cuban fishing boats in Bahamian waters. They detained the fishermen. Claiming piracy, the Cubans sent a warplane to attack the Flamingo. When the crew abandoned the ship, the plane strafed the lifeboats and swimming crew members, killing four Bahamians. In poetry and paintings, the Bahamians remembered that incident. In a series of photographs a Cuban ballerina interprets the Morse code of the Bahamian report of the survivors. We read newspaper reports and a letter from a displaced Bahamian saying, "See. I told you this would happen when you voted to leave the protection of the mother country." 

We read the Cuban government's apology to the Bahamians. The two countries currently enjoy an excellent relationship. You can get a Cuban cohiba here. And why not? Observed the commander, "You gotta love a country who names a warship 'Flamingo.' "

The Bahamian pledge goes, "I pledge my allegiance to the flag and to the Commonwealth of the Bahamas for which it stands, one people united in love and service."

On the way back down Bay Street, we stopped at Potter's Cay. This is a collection of food shacks selling fried fish and conch. I had the usual lunch, cracked conch and a Kalik. The plate came with salad and french fries. For the commander, the cook made a lovely stew of fresh snapper, onions, peppers and spices, served with peas and rice. We bought some limes, oranges, and fresh vegetables from another stall. On a second visit, we found a nearby fishing boat and bought a few Bahamian lobsters that we grilled back on Luna.

At Potter's Cay is a bridge that crosses the harbor from Nassau over to Paradise Island and the mega-resort, Atlantis. We did not take the short walk across the bridge on this visit.

The skipper with Ret. Police Inspector, Nigel Clarke

The highlight of our stay was a visit with a man my father and Siri met while cruising here 30 years ago. They became friends and have remained in contact. I have his phone number. Nigel Clarke is a retired Nassau police inspector. He was the director of the Bahamian Police Band, and played saxophone. Thus he met my father, a fellow saxophonist. Nigel picked us up. We spent the afternoon with him and his wife driving around the island, he pointing out the sights to us while calling out greetings to his many friends. It seems Nigel knows everyone in Nassau.

We passed the high wall that separated white areas from black areas before Bahamians achieved majority rule. We drove past very fancy residential areas at the west end of the island. We passed the airport and the Bahamian national university, And we stopped at Arawak Cay, another collection of better established food vendors and small restaurants. We went to Nigel's favorite fried food place. The commander and I split a bowl of conch chowder and an order of fried grouper, which came with french fries, cole slaw, and peas and rice. I loved the place, where the locals know to eat. We were nearly the only white faces there.

Mar-a-Lago, Amarone II, and Luna are the only boats left of the original fleet. We all met and discussed plans for leaving. Wind is shifting to the east then south for the next 4 or 5 days, and it looks like tomorrow we can sail to Allen's Cay, our first stop in the Exumas. We look at the charts, agree on the course, and make plans to leave.

1/10/2014  Nassau Harbour to Rose Island, southwest anchorage. 15 nm

Today was another of those days whose forecast did not match its actual weather. Expecting south winds, becoming southwest, we headed southeast for Allen's Cay, the first popular anchorage in the Exumas. The wind, uncooperative as it might be, remained southeast and built in intensity. The waves grew to 4-6 feet. Squalls passed close to us to the south.

The three boats talked on the VHF. It became apparent that at the speed we were capable of maintaining, we would not get to Allen's Cay before sunset unless the wind abated or shifted. The commander suggested we turn back and go to Rose Island, only a few miles from Nassau Harbour. Everyone jumped at the idea. We covered 15 nautical miles, but only made three miles toward our destination in the Exumas.

The anchorage at Rose Island is protected by a reef to the south, and so does not have the waves we saw on the outside. However, there are swells, and we spent an uncomfortable night rolling around on the anchor.

By morning, the winds have not abated, and it looks like the next day will be a better day to travel. There is another anchorage at Rose Island, on the north side. This should afford better protection from the swells of the night before.

Floating in the calm water of Rose Island

It happens in Vermont, where the weather can be harsh for long periods of time, that an occasional sunny day feels like a precious gift from the gods. One feels elevated on these days, lighter, happier.

The anchorage on the northern side of Rose Island was a similar gift from the gods. It sits off a white beach. The water is clear. The south wind on this side is gentle. The sun is shining.There are reefs to snorkel. Nassau is visible in the distance to the west. We have nothing to do but sit in the sun, swim, walk on the beach, admire the view. After all the traveling, we have arrived.

1/12/14 Rose Island to Allen's Cay. 33 nm.

The south wind abated and turned to the southwest. Four boats set out from the anchorage, turned the corner of the island, and set sail for Allen's Cay.

This is the first time since Pamlico Sound in North Carolina that we could actually sail somewhere. Motors off. Making 5-6 kts before a 10-12 kt wind. Luna is doing great in general, but we're most proud of her when we can hoist the sails and feel her take off in the wind. We pass Haven and Amarone II, the two other boats of similar size. Only Mar-a-Lago, the 42-footer, outdistances us.

Sailing into the sun, the fleet crosses the Bahamas Bank to the exumas

Eventually, the wind decreases, and the motors come on. Reluctantly, we motor sail to stay with the rest. We want to get to Allen's by early afternoon. Setting a destination and an arrival time is the enemy of sailing.

Halfway over, we pass the Yellow Bank. Here, coral heads reach up from the bottom, appearing as black patches in the water. Striking one would seriously damage Luna's keel. Or worse. We douse the jib so we can see forward, and the commander stands at the bow, ready to point out the right course. As it turns out, she has entered a course in the i-Pad that goes between all the charted coral heads. We never have to alter course suddenly, and we have an uneventful crossing.

Inguanas greet visitors at Allen's Cay

We reach Allen's Cay by 2:30. This is the customary first stop below Nassau, and the anchorage is already crowded. It's a lovely little harbor, ringed by beaches and coral. Iguanas live on the island and come onto the beach expecting to be fed. About the size of a chihuahua, iguanas are endangered, and it is illegal to feed them. It is clear not everyone complies. The beach is full of big lizards. They approach but are not tame. I hear the little buggers love fruit. Carve a scale model of New York City out of apples and lay it down. You could film your own version of Godzilla.

We swim in the crystal clear water. Through a swim mask, I can see a young conch traveling along the bottom. She leaves a track as she goes along. One from the group of boats organizes a happy hour on the beach, and we bring our drinks in by dinghy. Close to 20 people show up. Several bring snacks. We meet new people and discuss our adventures. Most of the group have shared the same experiences coming south. Those we haven't met already, we've heard talking on the radio along the waterway.

Another nice day. Luna gets to sail. We reach a beautiful harbor. There are iguanas. What more could one ask?

1/13/14 Allen's Cay.

We spent another day here. We're enjoying the absence of the urge to keep moving. It's not that there's that much to do here. But that's not the point. You could spend the whole day drinking in the scenery. If fact, the only reason to move at all is the thought that it might be even nicer somewhere down the line.

There was one of life's little victories today. The holding tank. When we were in Stuart, I installed a pump to drain the holding tank in the Bahamas. I tried this out on the way across from Florida. The tank indicator continued to read 2/3 full. It didn't appear the pump had worked. I tried it again coming across from Nassau with the same results.

There are few pump out facilities in the Bahamas, and if the apparatus isn't working, I don't see how we can stay here. During one of those sleepless periods, I decide I will take the pump apart, see if it needs anything, and we will have to sail back to Nassau to get parts or a new pump.

But first, I will inspect the tank itself. See if there is a clog at the outlet. Without delving into too much information, I imagine this will be an unpleasant task. After breakfast, I take the V-berth apart in the bow. The pump, tubing, and wiring look fine. The inspection port for the tank is under here. I take a breath. I open the tank--it is empty! The pump is working. The tank level indicator is not. As Click and Clack might say to a caller whose check engine light keeps going on: "Fix it with a piece of black electrical tape (over the bulb)." I am happy. We don't have to leave the group.

The group  has established a nice tradition: Happy hour beach parties. We visit and talk about leaving in the morning. There are some strong winds forecast--first from the south and then from the north. We decide to leave for Norman's Cay in the morning. Here, an anchorage on the south end affords protection from either north or south winds.

1/14/14  Allen's Cay to Norman's Cay, Exumas, Bahamas 14 nm.

The strong winds came last night. There were rain squalls, and we had to get up and close the hatches. The wind gauge read 20 kts with gusts up to 28. The boats in the harbor were moving all around their anchors, Luna was pitching and bucking. The halyards were slapping on the aluminum mast. All this made a long night with not much sleep. I spent most of the night on anchor watch, making sure we did not collide with a neighboring boat. I noticed the lights in Mar-a-Lago's cabin were on every time I looked over. For us both, all was fine.

8 am radio check time, and we decided to leave. The wind would be on our nose at 15-20 kts, but we're only going 14 miles to Norman's. We reached the anchorage on the south end. There is a strong current here that reverses with the tides. The boats at anchor stay as far apart as possible.

Norman's Cay attained some notoriety during the 1970's. In the drug trafficking days. Much of the property was bought by Colombian drug lord, Carlos Lehder. There is an airport here. He moved a lot of cocaine through this island. There is one of his DC-3's sitting in the shallow water of the harbor where it crashed after taking off from the air strip here. We are anchored near the wreck. It is a popular snorkeling site.  After the crash, he reportedly told his lieutenant, "Go out and buy another one!"

Much of the island is under development, and we met one of the new owners. They are putting in a marina, improving the airstrip to handle jets, building some luxury units, and refurbishing McDuff's, the island's restaurant. He figures it will be done in two years. Bahamian time, of course. It didn't look like much work was being done.

We took our dinghy to the beach and walked past the drug complex, decaying in the bushes. We walked down the road to the airstrip. A worn sign said, "Welcome to Norman's Cay." We met a young Bahamian pilot standing by his twin engine plane. He takes charters from the various islands to Nassau. For $500, up to five people can charter his plane one way. His company is Uhuru Airline. He is a Trekkie.

The group of sailboats has found a lovely island for happy hour. There is a palm tree here. Bruce, from Amarone II brings a bucket with a large trigger fish inside. From the boat anchored next to him, the fisherman had caught more than he could use. He offered Bruce the fish. Bruce offered a filet to the group, and we stepped up to accept.

He filleted the fish at the beach, throwing the carcass into the water by the shore. Minutes later, a 4-foot shark appeared in the shallows looking for the pieces. He was practically walking on the rocks. Not 30 minutes before this, the commander and I were swimming off the back of Luna. Would we have refrained if we knew about the shark? I doubt it. We know they are everywhere.

The sun set to the west of the small island. We saw the ephemeral green flash as the last of the sun reached the horizon. The nearly full moon rose in the east. Meanwhile, the fresh trigger fish, brushed with olive oil and rubbed with Caribbean seasoning, was excellent right off the grill. What a treat. The commander paid it forward by giving a few cuttings off the basil plant from Luna's garden as well as a few hot Bahamian goat peppers from Nassau to Krista on Harmonium.

1/15/14  Norman's Cay

More severe weather is on the way, and we elected to stay put. There is a strong south wind again today, and a strong cold front due tomorrow. This anchorage is fairly well protected from the north when the front hits.

The sky is cloudy, and the strong south wind roils the water of the anchorage. Taking the dinghy out would be a wet ride. We stay on Luna and catch up on reading, do some cleaning. We meet on Mar-a-Lago for happy hour and review the weather. Looks like we might be staying here for several days. I advocate for leaving tomorrow if we can. The anchorage at Warderick Wells offers good protection from the north, and this would be a far more interesting place to be than here.

Overnight, the storm hits. There is heavy rain. North winds reach gale force. The boats pitch and turn in the anchorage. We're wakened at least once an hour by the howling of the wind, the lurching of Luna, or the clanging of the halyards on the mast. Hourly, I mark our GPS  position on the i-Pad to make sure we are not dragging our anchor. Luna moves in an arc around the anchor as she should. Around 4 am, the wind subsides, and we manage a few hours sleep.

1/16/14 Norman's Cay to Warderick Wells 22.4 nm.

It's time for the 8 am radio check-in on VHF channel 8. There are 4 sleepy people on the air. Everyone was up all night on anchor watch. The first front has passed. It looks like there might be an opportunity today to sail south. Winds are forecast to move from west to northwest at 10-15 kts.

The rain did provide one useful benefit. There are two inches of fresh water in the dinghy. I taste it--not noticeably salty. I am able to pump five bucketsful to refill our water tank. We are using this water only for washing, but as a precaution, we dump a quarter-cup of clorox into the 28-gallon tank.

One of the group confirms our reservation for four mooring balls at Warderick Wells, and four anchors come up at 10 am. For once, the wind is in our favor, and we hoist sails after leaving the harbor entrance. The motor is off. We are making good speed.

GPS technology is so precise that it allows you to navigate from one waypoint to the next. Certain routes are actually marked on the electronic chart, and the commander can create our own route using latitude and longitude coordinates of waypoints published on the charts.

Having defined waypoints creates a certain navigational rigidity in the minds of some sailors. I am constantly reminded: watch the sails. Forget about the GPS. As long as there is deep water and no rocks, we take the waypoints and routes as suggestions only, trim the sails for the course, and play on the wind. Luna is at the front of the pack, sailing with Amarone II close behind.

As before, the group remains in communication by VHF. "Luna, I see on my chart there is a rock right off your starboard."  "Thanks, Bruce. We can see it on our chart and are passing to the north of it." There is a sense of security in traveling with buddy boats.

We are on a broad reach on a starboard tack. We sail south and east of our next waypoint to keep the jib full. We fight the urge to gybe and head toward our point. Patience.  A few miles further south, I see on the Garmin that the waypoint bears about 135 degrees, and we can keep the sails full at 180 degrees, a 45-degree difference. We gybe and can maintain a good course to the next point.

We enter the mooring field at Emerald Rock. It's in the middle of the island south of the offices of the Exumas Land and Sea Park, which is headquartered here. This is a beautiful protected harbor lined with limestone hills and small beaches. There is an expansive view to the west. In the forecast there will be no strong winds from that direction. There is land on all other sides.

The group meets on one of the beaches. Hopefully, the winds will become calm enough to allow snorkeling on all the reefs around us. There are hiking trails on the island to beaches on the ocean side. There is a lot of exploring to do. We plan to stay here for a few days.

As we leave the beach to return to the boats, the north wind picks up. The bay becomes choppier. The boats start to rock. It looks like we might be in for another rough night, but we are securely moored, and there will be no need to keep an anchor watch. All will sleep well tonight.

1/17-1/18/14 Warderick Wells

Warderick Wells. The name, Warderick, makes me smile. It suggests the second of a two-word command issued by Python Michael Palin, playing the speech-afflicted Roman emperor in the film, Life of Brian. The first word, of course, is, "we-LEASE."

The island offers hiking trails maintained by park volunteers, most of whom are cruisers. The park's roster of supporters includes some heavy hitters like Nicole Kidman, Jimmy Buffett, Tom Cruise, and the Bacardi Family. No wonder. The place is gorgeous. And we haven't had a chance to snorkel on some of the reefs yet.

Trails lead to high places with views of the harbor beyond. There are ruins of an old loyalist plantation to survey. Given the rocks, dry climate, and lack of soil, we can't imagine what they might have grown. We did learn that the island was forested at one time, but once they harvested the trees, severe weather has prevented their regrowth.

We did hike up to Boo Boo Hill. Boo Boo is a Bahamian word for ghosts, not minor skin injuries. There was a shipwreck with no survivors off the island. There is a shrine of sorts to the dead. On top of the hill, cruisers leave mementos of their boats--pieces of driftwood and other flotsam with their boat names on it. This is an offering to the weather gods for fair winds and weather. I leave Luna's name on a plaque. We need all the help we can get.

There is a series of cold fronts passing through. And the weather has been cool and cloudy for several days. Too cold and the water too rough for much swimming. Had I known this weather pattern, I might have chosen a wind charger to keep our batteries up rather than a solar panel. As it is, we are running Luna's engine for an hour twice a day to keep the batteries charged.

We're waiting out the current front, and will head out for Staniel Cay. The weather on the 19th had other plans.  We had another night of strong north winds and rough seas. Not much better by morning. Harmonium left, but we elected to stay. We took a splashy dinghy ride into the waves to the park office. Used the internet there. Registered for another night. The commander left a book at the book exchange, and I picked up an Elmore Leonard book, the kind you can read in a single day when you're bobbing at a mooring. Cloudy and cool. We hear it's 48 degrees in Marsh Harbor in the northern Bahamas. We're in the low 70's.


1/19/14 Warderick Wells to Big Major Spot, Staniel Cay Bahamas, 22.5 nm.

The wind moderated overnight. This morning, it is blowing from the north at around 15 kts, but seas are flatter. We elect to move on.

This actually happened. Three days ago, coming back from happy hour, I dropped my sunglasses in the water next to the boat. It was getting dark. I wasn't sure what I had in my pocket, so I didn't jump in after them. I made several passes with mask and snorkel in the morning, but found no sign of them. The tides here sweep the bottom clean twice a day. There is no debris on the bottom, and the water is crystal clear. No doubt the sunglasses are out to sea in some deep hole off the banks. Luckily, I have a spare clip-in pair.

Today, as we prepared to leave, the commander looked in the water and said, "I think I see your sunglasses." Bear in mind, the water is 10 feet deep, according to the depth sounder. I looked over. She could be right. There is a black shape on the sandy bottom. What the sea takes away, she could just as well serve up again.

The air is cool, but the water is warm. I put on the mask and snorkel and climb down the swim ladder and have a look. Sure enough, the glasses are on the bottom off the starboard side of the boat, where I dropped them. Flippers on, I swam down and retrieved them. While down, I saw a rag off the other side of the boat. Hung to dry on the lifeline, it had blown off two nights ago. I went back down and retrieved that also.

The trip south to Staniel Cay was an uneventful run with jib only. We left the motor on to charge the battery. We anchored in a large cove with 16 other boats. This is the site of the famous swimming pigs. It's interesting to see what inhabits Bahamian beaches. From iguanas to pigs. We saw the pigs on a distant beach. They come to you to be fed. Apparently, they like carrots. We'll see. In calmer conditions, they swim out to boats at anchor, looking for a handout.

Late in the afternoon, the sun came out, the first time in 5 days.There was a lingering sunset. Looks like the front has finally passed, though another is on the way. Our plan is to stay at the marina for a night to restock water, fuel, food. Run the battery charger. We'll do laundry. Communication has been spotty at these uninhabited out islands. and we can use the internet.  We're looking forward to having a meal or two in town.

Internet service has been a problem since we left Nassau. Our plan with Verizon has been charged for megabytes of data we haven't used, so we're off that. The public Bahamian network on the out islands is slow. They know it. Here's what the network home page has to say:

This service uses a satellite uplink for all traffic. On its best day, it will seem slow compared to any land-based service. It's 22 thousand miles to the satellite, which means it's 44 thousand miles before your request hits the Internet, and 44 thousand for the data to come back. No matter how you slice it, 88 thousand miles may take more than a few seconds for a response. So remember, you're in the Central Exumas with the most beautiful water and Cay's anywhere on the planet. Fast Internet is available at most office buildings and cubicles in the states. Would you really want to trade where you are for a cubicle?

The secret to happy surfing on a slow network?
1. Click on the link
2. Take a drink of your Kalik
3. Repeat steps 1 and 2 above until network appears to have blazing speed.




I will say, we are enjoying the Kaliks. But, publishing photos will have to wait for another day.

Hello from the Exumas

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Google maps link to our route

 https://mapsengine.google.com/map/edit?mid=zlPWJuytpGYc.k-vrJ4FHN1e0

 THis is a link to a google maps view of our route. It is a work in progress

"Swim, eat, drink, work, read, talk, read, fish, fish, swim, drink, sleep. That's Bimini"

Just then, from one of the boats tied up at Brown's dock, a rocket rose with as whoosh high into the sky and burst with a pop to light up the channel.    Ernest Hemingway, Islands in the Stream

From the Captain

On to Bimini

12/30/13 No Name Harbor, Key Biscayne, FL to Bimini, Bahamas 54nm

The Cape Florida light bids us farewell

Yesterday, before we left Key Biscayne, we decided to take a walk around Bill Baggs State Park that surrounds the small harbor. The historic Cape Florida light house is there. We climbed the stairs to the top and looked out over the Atlantic where we will be tomorrow. There is a plaque which commemorates Cape Florida as a jumping off point for slaves and black Seminole indians escaping to the Bahamas. The lighthouse effectively shut that route down, but the descendants of these travelers will be our neighbors and hosts for the next two months.

There is a pavilion next to the harbor, and people are having a meeting there. This is a group of Canadian boat people who, beside us, comprise nearly everyone else anchored in the harbor. They are discussing leaving for the Bahamas tomorrow when the weather window opens up. Thus, we joined a flotilla of 8 boats heading east. When we got to Brown's Marina in Bimini, I called ahead and said, "This is the sailing vessel, Luna. We are part of the Royal Canadian Navy fleet of eight vessels."

The crossing was uneventful. The weather window opened so wide that the wind died, and we motored over fairly calm seas across the Gulf Stream. About halfway across, we raised our sails and motor sailed into a light northeast wind. The further east we sailed, the deeper blue the water became.

Luna, crossing the gulf stream

By agreement, the group stayed more or less together and checked in on the VHF radio every hour. Bruce on Amarone lives in Toronto, and is the elected leader. He calls each boat by name and waits for a response that all is well. The group also includes Jack and Katty from Quebec City in Millevasions, Gary and Crystelle on the only power boat, Time and Tides, Allen and Linda on Haven, Phil, Krista, and Lisa on Harmonium, and Bob and Monique on the sailing catamaran, Last Waltz. Mar a Lago and Luna made up the rest of the flotilla. 

During the crossing, people call in with all sorts of information. "Water temperature is up to 87.9 degrees. We must be in the gulf stream." "A boat ahead reports showers, but going south of Bimini." From a boat a couple miles in front of us, "The wind just veered suddenly to the east, right on our nose." "From Haven, who arrived in Bimini first, "We called the marina, and they can fit all of us in."

The Atlantic is blue as we near the Bahamas

We steered south of Bimini to compensate for the north-flowing current. Leaving in the dark at 6:00 am, we arrived in Bimini at 2:30. The leading boat had arranged with the marina to reserve 8 slips for us. They had the space because 12 of their boats had left that morning, taking advantage of the calm weather to head back to the US or east to Nassau.

The guidebooks we read describe worst case scenarios and so raise anxiety. We were relieved by the easy crossing. The next hurdle was to pass customs and immigration. The book directed us to make copies of all our important documents--the boat registration, passports. Prescription medications must be clearly labelled. There are stories of customs officials changing the entry fees and allowing only shortened stays. We are directed to fly a yellow quarantine flag from our spreader when we enter the harbor. After we are officially admitted to the country, this comes down and is replaced by a Bahamian flag, flown as a courtesy to the host country.

Only the master of the vessel is allowed to disembark. I take money for the cruising permit and the commander's passport and forms to the customs office down the King's Highway, the main street of the island. The commander disembarks and stands out on the dock visiting with crew members from the other boats.

King's Highway, the major road in Bimini

I will say that in keeping with other Caribbean islands we've visited, entering customs is an easy non-event. They want to know about your dinghy and outboard motor, if you're bringing weapons or bicycles or fishing gear. What kind of GPS you have. Like similar officials everywhere, the pleasant woman behind the window seems to relish stamping things with her large stamp. Luna's official length is 34 feet, 8 inches. For the cruising permit, we pay the lower amount for boats below 35 feet in length. She didn't care to keep our copied documents.

Then, it's off to the immigration office, back toward the marina next to the straw market. The immigration officer is likewise pleasant and non-threatening. As at the customs office, there is not a computer in evidence. No background checks and apparently no random terrorist watch lists. It is far easier and more cordial for us to get into the Bahamas than it will be to get back into our own country.

I get the feeling Blackbeard himself could enter the country without resistance.

Customs agent: "Yes, Mr. Beard," stamp, stamp, "What is your business here? I see, marine salvage. Yes. Yes. I hope you enjoy your stay" stamp, stamp. "And I see your crew member, Mr. Bin Laden from Pakistan. Such a long way from home" stamp. "Well I have approved you for a three-month stay. If you want to stay longer, just check in with another customs official wherever you land."

Blackbeard:  "Thank you. And a nice day to you, eh?"

Customs agent: "Oh, you must be with the nice group from the Royal Canadian Navy. Stamp stamp. Here are your passports and entry visa."

There is no boarding of the vessel, no checking our stuff. No one seems to care about the yellow flag. The water is absolutely clear, the air warm, the vibe totally relaxed and friendly. No wonder people like to come here.

Kalik, the local Bahamian brew

Later, we walk out with Brian and Jane to get dinner. A Bahamian man we pass on the street recommends CJ's deli, up on the Queen's Highway toward the beach. We make the short walk for fried Bahamian lobster, conch fritters, cracked conch (deep fried pieces of pounded conch meat) and a couple of bottles of Kalik, the local beer.

12/31/2013. Bimini, Bahamas.

Once again, we are at the mercy of an approaching cold front, and gale force winds are predicted for the Bahamas banks starting tomorrow night. Our plan is to sail to Nassau, but this involves an overnight anchorage out on the banks, so we are waiting for a weather window. This isn't a bad place to be.

Walking up on the Queen's Highway

The island is small. We can walk to the beach. We do some business--walking up to the Bahamas Telephone Company to purchase a Bahamas cellphone and $20 worth of prepaid minutes. We are reachable in case of emergency, and we can call cruising partners if they are out of radio range.

Two names keep popping up as we walk. Ernest Hemingway discovered Bimini in the 1930's, motoring here in Pilar, his fishing boat. The tourist and sport fishing boom he started helped pick up the local economy set back by the end of prohibition in the US. During prohibition, boats and planes brought American visitors to the island. Rum-running from Bimini to Florida was a major industry.

We visited the Bimini Big Game club, one of Hemingway's places. His favorite bar, the Compleat Angler, has burned down, only its skeleton remaining.

Martin Luther King also figured in Bimini's history. He was here at least twice, and wrote his Nobel Peace Prize acceptance speech here in 1964. A local barber who cut his hair is memorialized on a plaque at his old shop, now the Labour Department. Not generally considered a partier on par with Ernest Hemingway, Dr. King is also mentioned on a plaque at the Sand Bar, also known as The Saloon at the End of the World. And on another at the Bimini Big Game Club. I can find no recorded mention that his path crossed that of Hemingway.

People are friendly, smiling as we pass and wishing us a happy New Year. In recent history, the islands' peaceful Lucayan Indians were enslaved by the Spaniards and wiped out in the time of Colombus, who likely made his initial landfall in the new world somewhere near here. Possession of the Bahamian islands passed between Spain and England. Eventually, England traded Florida to Spain for the Bahamas. In my estimation, England got the better deal.

English loyalists and their slaves settled here after the American Revolution. The island's climate, lack of water, and poor soil did not support the plantation lifestyle, however. Slavery was outlawed in the British Commonwealth in the early 19th century. As far as Britannia ruled the waves, when British naval vessel intercepted a slave ship on her way from Africa, slaves were commonly freed in the Bahamas. Thus, most people we see here are of African descent. There is a sizable boating community tied at the docks and a large resort on the north end of the island that add white faces to the mix.

Alan and Crystelle arrange a potluck on the patio for New Years' Eve. Nearly 50 people show up from the neighboring boats. The commander brings a plate of brownies, and we grill a chicken breast for ourselves before sharing the various salads, bean dishes, and breads brought by others.

The Royal Canadian Navy: Jacques, Bruce, Brian

Gary, Crystelle, Monique, Bob, Brenda, Allen

We take a walk down the King's Highway with Jane and Brian. It's a party night in town, and golf carts zoom by in both directions. We see a fireworks display from the condo development on South Bimini.

Apparently most people eventually head to the End of the World Bar and Big John's bar a half a block north. These places provide bookends to Brown's Marina. The music is loud and goes until dawn. The commander and I wake up about 2 am and walk along the King's highway, looking for evidence of the New Year's celebratory parade, Junkanoo, which may or may not occur. It is dead quiet, and the streets are deserted north of the marina.

1/1/2014.  Happy New Year. Bimini, Bahamas.

Strong winds are forecast for the next several days, and it looks like we will be in Bimini for a while. The goal-directed part of me is impatient to push onward to Nassau and south to the Exumas. But Nassau is 24 hours away, requiring two favorable days or at least a 24-hour window for an overnight sail. We are staying put for now.

The crystal clear water of Bimini

We walked to the nearby beach and went swimming in the clear Atlantic. The day is sunny and warm. We sat in the shade on lounges reading. I had a plate of cracked conch and a Kalik (beer) for lunch at the restaurant next door. At some point it strikes me that nowhere on my person was there any sort of instrument that tells time. From that point, I know that being on this pleasant little island is quite acceptable in itself, and there is no need to travel elsewhere until the conditions warrant.

Feeding the bull sharks at the Big Game Club

We walked over to the Bimini Big Game Club.
At 4 pm, they throw fish carcasses into the water, thereby attracting the local population of large bull sharks. About a half dozen showed up. For $125, you can don a dive mask and air regulator and go down in a shark cage to get a front row seat. There were actually a few takers.
We brought our happy-hour drinks and snacks over to the marina patio, and eventually the crowd here joined us. Someone has heard that the Junkanoo parade will happen at 8 pm tonight. A second gin and tonic, some shared snacks, and it was time to walk down King's Highway to the center of Alice Town.

Dinner from the Island House

People are filtering into the street, lining the sides. Excitement is building. This must be part of the experience. The parade is on island time, and will not start, finally, for another hour. In the meantime, I am getting hungry. I walk down to the Island House Bar and Grille. It is more the former. It is very dark inside. There is a DJ, and loud rap music is blaring. I am the only white face. Someone makes room for me at the bar. I get the bartender's attention, give him my empty glass and ask for a rum/fruit juice combination. I also ask him if they serve food. I have to lean over and yell in his ear.

He signals to the back, and a man comes over. He says something. I can't hear him. I lean closer. He repeats it. And again. Finally, I realize he is saying, "Can I help you?" I ask him what he is serving. He takes me in the back, through the back room with the pool table, into the kitchen, where the cook is. She reviews the menu. I ask for a bowl of conch stew. The man says he will bring it out. I walk back out to the bar and collect my rum/pineapple juice/coconut drink. The music is loud and driving. I start moving to the rhythm.

I am feeling absorbed into this friendly culture. Boundaries dissolve. I could be a character of a novel in the chapter that begins or ends, "And somehow I found myself at dawn, shirtless and barefoot, wandering down a side street in Bimini…"

The man brings out the stew in a styrofoam container and a plastic bag. I pay the bartender and return to reality and the company of our friends on the street. The parade is in sight.

Junkanoo--the muscians march

Junkanoo originated in the time of slavery. It is dancing and papier mache  and cardboard headdresses and music and especially drums. You can hear it before you see it. It is a New Orleans second line with drums. Lots of drums. Energetic dancers. Syncopated, loud, driving, colorful, totally energizing. There is a tuba, a trombone, and a few trumpets. We cannot stand still as the parade passes, then fall in behind, street-dancing in the third line.



The parade takes a break before turning around and parading back. Jane and the commander happen across a woman with the tallest headdress. Her name is Daisy, the postmistress in town. They congratulate her. She explains that she organizes Junkanoo every year. Her father brought the celebration to the island in the early 1950's. She continues the tradition, her contribution to the community. What a wonderful job she is doing.

Back on Luna, we had a late dinner of the conch stew and left over rice. It's been a wonderful day

Down time in Bimini