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