Back home on Farmers Cay
smiling in the turquoise sea
lazing in the sun at noon
dreaming safe beneath the moon
Where sky meets sand and sea
my precious island, Farmer's Cay
This is home to me and it will always be

From the Little Farmer's Cay song written by Diane Parker.

Heading North

From the Captain

2/5/14 Georgetown to Little Farmer's Cay, Bahamas. 42nm

Leaving the anchorage at Georgetown

It's up anchors and on the way by 7 am. As we motor out of the harbor, the sun is rising in the southeast off our starboard quarter. We are heading north. Toward home.

There is still a fairly strong southeast wind, in the 17-20 kt range. We are timing our departure to reach the inlet at Farmer's Cay when the tide is slack or near so. With the strong onshore wind, there is likely to be large waves in the inlet when the tidal current is strong. We figure we will make 7 kts. running before this wind, and arrive at the cut by 1 pm. High tide is around noon so the current from the outgoing tide will be minimal at this time.

Nonetheless, on the way I called Steve up in Big Farmer's Cay. He thinks the cut will be fine, but suggests we take the more southerly Galliot Cut, which is wider. And we'll reach it sooner, closer to the slack tide.

The run northward was fun. Waves were in the 4-6 foot range, and Luna rolled along in the following sea. We motor sailed with the genoa and kept speed at around 7 kts as planned. As we reached the cut, the plan was to gybe the jib and furl it partly as we motored through the cut.

There were medium sized waves in the inlet, and confused seas. Beyond, however, was the calm water of the Bahamas Bank. We gybed, then the furler jammed, and we were unable to furl the sail. Rather than head up into the wind and seas, we continued through the cut with full jib. It was fine. The jib steadied us, and I think we rolled much less than our partner boats who motored through with bare poles.

It's wonderful to be back on the banks and out of Georgetown. We had a good week down in Georgetown, and liked the beach to walk, the restaurants where you could have a meal in relaxed Bahamian time overlooking the water. If we were there longer, I imagine all the social activities would have been fun. We liked the stores and, of course, the friendly atmosphere. However, the harbor there is a wind tunnel aimed right at the prevailing wind, which funnels through kicking up the waves and howling in the rigging. We had a rough week at anchor.

And the water there is not crystal clear as it is on the banks. Partly this is due to all the visiting boats. They are urged not to discharge waste overboard into the harbor. But they do.

We anchored on the northwest side of Little Farmer's Cay, by the airstrip. Here is where the sailboat races that are the centerpiece of the 5F festival will happen. We launch the dinghy from the foredeck, attach the outboard motor, and pull up on the beach. There is a tiki bar there, called Ty's. Before getting involved with that, we explore the island with our friends.

We learn the Farmer's Cay was founded about 170 years ago by slaves freed in Exuma. The founders willed the island to their descendants, to be held as tenants in common. Today, there are about 70 residents on the island, related by blood or marriage to Chrisanna and her three children, James Michael Nixon and Adam and Eve Brown. Interestingly, because of the ownership arrangement, no one can secure a building loan from a bank. There are many homes in various stages of construction. People work long enough to earn money to complete the next construction phase, then have to leave the island to earn some more.

Our Bahamas telephone is out of prepaid minutes, so we walked over to a local spot, Ocean Cabin, to buy a couple of cards. The bar is closed, but the owner, Terry Bain, is out back cleaning up to prepare

Terry Bain in front of Ocean Cabin

for the upcoming festival. The First Friday of February on Farmers Cay Festival is actually his creation.

He seems more than happy to take a break, and lets us into the restaurant. Over beers and sodas, he tells us about the island. He is trying to recruit volunteers to help with festival activities. There is a meeting tomorrow to discuss the scavenger hunt and the wet T shirt contest. An equal opportunity sexist, he is also organizing a best legs and buns contest for the men. There is also a sexually suggestive plunger contest that I won't go into further. All in the spirit of fun.

We walk out to the Yacht Club and find some of our friends from the journey. Francie and Ken, the Vermonters from Danby, are here. We met them in St. Augustine and again in Bimini. Alan and Brenda on Haven, our Canadian friends from the Florida crossing, are here. We had left them at Allen Cay.

To return to our anchorage from the yacht club, we walk down a dirt path that ends on the runway of the airstrip. We walk down the airstrip to the beach and the tiki bar. It is happy hour. Killer rum punches are $3.00, and they are serving free conch fritters.

Terry Bain sells a Little Farmer's Cay flag, and at Ocean Cabin, he has a sheet telling the significance of the flag. At the top of the sheet, he has written, "God Bless Farmers Cay, The Bahamas and Everywhere Else." Can you imagine the President of the United States closing his speeches with, "And God bless the United States of America--and everywhere else." What a different country this might be. It will never happen, of course, but I might send a suggestion to whitehouse.gov.

As it is, the Bahamas is not burdened by the mantle of the most powerful nation on earth. Instead of an eagle with a fistful of menacing arrows, it is rather like a shaggy brown dog who rolls onto his back when you come up to him and lets you scratch its belly. Friendly, peaceful, non-threatening, lovable. And fun. The national bird of the Bahamas is, by the way, the flamingo.

Gathering at Ty's

There are thirty or so people at the bar. Some we've met before. Bob and Monique from the catamaran Last Waltz, made the crossing to Bimini with us, and we haven't seen them until now. Steve and Cindy motored up with a friend visiting from Vermont. Cindy has the commander's hat left behind last week. We stayed for sunset in the glow of this little island with a big heart.

2/6/14 Little Farmers Cay to Black Point Settlement to Little Farmers Cay 22 nm.

The group considers staying for the festival, but decides to move up to Black Point. There are tons of laundry to do. After the wet crossings in Georgetown, practically everything we own is salty. We discuss our plans from here. Mar-a-Lago really wants to move on to Eleuthera. Brian sees a cold front coming in on 2/10, and wants to cross on 2/9. Amarone II feels it is important we stay together as a group. Carol and I are in love--with Little Farmers.

Smashie in Blackpoint Settlement harbor

There is a blue racing dinghy, Smashie, anchored in the Black Point harbor off the laundromat. She is a typical Class C Bahamian sailing dinghy. Sixteen feet long, she is cat rigged with tall mast and very long boom that extends beyond the transom and holds the enormous loose footed sail. By tradition and Bahamian rules of dinghy racing, she is made of wood. More than thirty years ago, my father took us to a shop in Hopetown to watch Winer Malone building such a boat. We have a half model of a Bahamian sailing dinghy hanging on our wall back home. During that same trip, we took a dinghy for a sail around Man-O-War Cay in the Abacos. Just seeing Smashie bobbing slightly in the harbor stirs my heart. That settles it for us. We're heading back for the 5F festival and the dinghy races. There had been no doubt in the commander's mind that we would do just that.

The commander does the laundry while I refill our water jugs and dispose of the trash. She buys some fresh lettuce at the local store. We head back to Little Farmers Cay about 2 pm. The 12-15 kt east-southeast wind permits us to hoist both sails for a thrilling two-hour passage to windward. I think I have not been happier since leaving Vermont. Despite our earlier fears of large crowds of boats coming for the festival, we anchor nearly in our old spot by the airport. We are right next to our friends on Harmonium.


2/7/14 The First Friday in February. Little Farmers Cay.

The festival is starting at noon. Phil knocks on our hull in 8:30 the morning to say he and Krista and their guests, Carlos and Carleton, are taking their dinghy to shore to explore a cave a little to the north

Spelunking at Oven Rock

at Oven Rock. We meet Alan and Brenda there along with others we saw at last night's happy hour. There is a short hike up the rough limestone path off the beach through the scrubby woods. At a rock cairn, the path branches and descends into an opening in the rock.

The cave is large and fairly shallow. There are stalactites and a pool of water. A guide on Farmers Cay offers tank diving in the fresh water pool which descends hundreds of feet through an opening at the back of a cave. We wade in the shallow end. There are kids and a dog. It's quite humid inside, but fairly cool. Like all caves, it's a magical place.

Meanwhile, there is a steady stream of small airplanes landing and taking off from the airstrip. They are bringing Nixon-Brown relatives back home from Nassau. And visitors from other islands. A few large outboard boats bring people from Great Exuma Island. There is a large boat from Georgetown at the government dock in the harbor on the other side of the island from the airstrip. It is unloading passengers and several dinghies from the out islands. This is a big deal. The Deputy Prime Minister of the Bahamas flies in. Observes the commander, "It's like Joe Biden showing up at Addison County Field Days."

At noon, we walk over to the harbor to see what is happening. Terry has organized his volunteers to conduct the various games. Bob is in charge of the wet T shirt contest. Monique volunteered to organize the men's best legs and buns competition. Terry is buzzing around, chatting up everyone and taking photos of his friends and family members as well as the visitors from the cruising community. Befriend Terry Bain or Ocean Cabin on Facebook. Perhaps you will see pictures of the commander and me.

People are lined up for lunch at Ocean Cabin. Other food vendors have set up stands nearby. The commander and I split a cracked conch platter from Brenda's take out, next to the grocery store. I get most of the conch and macaroni and cheese and a little bit of the peas and rice and coleslaw.

The contest and events seem to attract the sailing crowd. No Bahamian faces there. Everyone else is over by the airport beach where the dinghy races will start. We walk the road back over to that side of the island, a half mile or less.

Ty's, the beach bar, is blaring Bahamian music from speakers on the deck. It's jumpy music, a hint of Caribbean. From the American Bandstand days, I would say it's got a great beat and is easy to dance to. In fact, it's hard to keep still. Many songs describe how good life is in the Bahamas.

Hiking out on the windward leg

But the dinghy races have started, and the dozen or so little boats are sailing a triangular course inside the boats anchored near the beach to beyond the furthest boats. Luna is among the further boats. A perfect vantage point.

The commander and I hop in the dingy and return to Luna to watch the reaching dinghies sail right past our stern, then turn and start to beat back toward the beach. As they beat into the wind, they extend boards to windward, and crew members sit outboard to level the boats. The more the boats heel, the further out, and the more crew members, sit on the heeling boards.

In the next to last circuit, Smashie is in the lead. "Go Blackpoint," we yell as they pass. In the end, Smashie is the winner. There will be another heat later in the day, and tomorrow will be the finals.

Serious money is riding on this race. Large bets are placed on favorite boats. The prize for the winner is $5,000, supplied by the regatta committee and the Bahamian government, eager to promote tradition and community in the outer islands.

Afterward, Ty's is full. People are having dinner, dancing, drinking. The mix seems equally divided between Bahamians and cruisers. The atmosphere is friendly. A cameraman and attractive anchor are filming interviews with festival participants. It seems they are mostly interested in the white ones. "Is this your first time in the Bahamas? What do you like best?" I wonder how many answered, "The rum punches!"

Glen, whom we met in No Name Harbor, has a birthday today. His wife, Deborah, a retired Mountie, has organized a party, and Monique has baked a cake. The DJ makes some comments, and all sing "Happy Birthday," which apparently is the same in the Bahamas and Canada as in the U.S.

The music continues. A small troop of Junkanoo dancers in costume shows up. The drum beat takes us back to Bimini.

Ty mixes with the crowd outside. I observe his accent doesn't really sound Bahamian. He tells me he lives in Canada, and, in fact, he played professional football in the Canadian Football League. He returns to Little Farmers regularly. He has a passion for his fast cars, particularly his Camaro with a custom 453 engine. He shows me photos of this on his i-Pad.

As the sun sets, we have dinner on the beach with Phil and Krista and their friends. The commander has a fried grouper plate, and I have barbecued spare ribs. Of course, with peas and rice and corn or macaroni and cheese. Someone puts a beer ticket in my hand, and I get a last Kalik at the bar. At some point, I will be moved to wonder, "My God, does it get any better than this?"

It does. We motor out to Harmonium where Carleton treats us to a "nightcap," a cup of decaf coffee with Tia Maria, Kahlua, and half and half we brought from Luna's fridge. The music onshore goes on well into the night. Thankfully, Luna only rocks with every third or fourth measure.

2/8/14 Little Farmers Cay to Cambridge Cay

It's hard to leave. The festival continues today, and the final dinghy races are this afternoon. But our friends, who spent yesterday at Black Point, are heading up to Cambridge Cay to make the crossing to Eleuthera tomorrow.

Should we stay or should we go? We have been discussing this for two days. Little Farmers is wonderful. The festival is really exciting. The dinghy races are interesting. The vibes are friendly. Food is great. Beer and rum punch flow. Water is sparkling and warm. There hasn't been a cold front for nearly two weeks. Days are warm and sunny. Isn't this why we are in the Bahamas? Why go anywhere? We're here! After a month in the country, we can say with conviction, "We totally get it!"

On the other hand, eventually, we will have to move north. Luna's radio still doesn't reach more than 5 or 6 miles. I will probably need to replace the antenna wire in the mast. And she's an older boat. She's doing great. But we're aware that things can happen. And if we're out of radio range, we cannot summon help. So in the end, we trade our freedom to sail our own voyage for the security of traveling with buddy boats. Plus, they're our buddies. We've grown close over the last month or two.

We make the rounds of the anchorage to say good-bye to Bob from Last Waltz; the commander's new friend, Carmen, crewing for Bill on Providence; Glen and Debbie on their C&C Landfall 38; and Phil, Krista, Carlos, and Carleton on Harmonium. Carleton and Carlos have arranged a charter flight from the airstrip here to Georgetown, where they will catch their flight back to Toronto tomorrow. They are all happy to be able to spend today here at the festival instead of making the trip back in their boat. No problem!

As we raise anchor and head north, I think of Little Farmers. I think of the Bahamas. I think how nice this adventure is getting, now that the weather has improved and we are sailing familiar waters. For some reason, Van Morrison is playing round and round in my head,

"Do you remember when,
We used to sing:
'Sha-la-la-la-la-la-la-la
la-la-ti la-ti da ?
'Sha-la-la-la-la-la-la-la
la-la-ti la-ti da ?
My brown-eyed girl.
You-oo, my brown eyed girl."

With the sails up and the wind to our backs, we motor sail up to Cambridge Cay, on the southern edge of the Land and Sea Park. There is a protected anchorage between Cambridge Cay to the east and Bell Island to the west. The park maintains mooring balls. Mar-a-Lago and Amarone II are there. We put a line through the pennant on the mooring behind Amarone.

There is a knock on the side of the hull, and Julie is there with her husband in their dinghy. They are park volunteers from Virginia on their second Bahamas cruise in 4 years. They are staying in the anchorage for a month. Their job is to collect mooring fees, maintain the trails to the ocean, and clean the flotsam from the beach. The park supplies them with water and weekly rides south to Staniel Cay for supplies. We imagine a weekly shopping excursion to the Pink Store or the Blue Store. Perhaps when the mailboat comes to bring fresh produce, the selection is better than we saw.

We gladly pay our $15 for the mooring. Julie tells us of all the beautiful places for snorkeling, walking, and general exploring near us. The water here is clearer than any we've seen so far. Floating in 12 feet of water, we can stand on Luna's deck and count the wrinkles in the sand beneath us.

None of the exploration will happen, of course. We're on a mission with a schedule, and we're leaving early in the morning for Eleuthera. Of course, there are places we'd like to explore further. We wonder, briefly, whether it would be better to spend the rest of our time looking around the Exumas in greater depth rather than continuing our present course, superficially traversing the country as a whole.

Up until now, it was not clear to me why anyone would want to make this journey twice. But now I'm beginning to see. For one thing, on the second trip, like Julie and her husband, we would know exactly where to go and where to stay. For another, there's the country itself, the beautiful brown-eyed girl in the midst of the emerald sea--"sha-la-la-la-la-la-la-la; la-la-ti-la-ti-da."

Bahamian sailing dinghies on a reach sail past Luna