Up to the Abacos

From the Captain

2/16/14 Hatchet Bay, Eleuthera, to Spanish Wells. 27.3 nm

Current Cut lies about 16 miles northwest of Hatchet Bay. This narrow channel between rocky islands provides the exit point from Eleuthera to the northern Bahamas. As the tide reaches its peak, currents here can reach 9 knots, and waves can be quite steep. We have timed our departure so that we can reach the cut at slack tide, when the current is least.

Working backward, we know from the guidebooks and the locals that tides in Current Cut lag behind Nassau by one and half hours. High tide in Nassau today is 8:40 am. High tide at the cut will be around 10:15. At six knots, we figure it will take nearly 3 hours to reach the cut. We give ourselves some leeway by leaving at 7am.

We reach Current Cut at 10:18. There is no current and no significant waves. Transiting the cut is easy. We will have to look elsewhere for excitement this day. No problem.

There is no railroad in the Bahamas. Most everything moves by boat among these small islands. Yet, when we sail through Current Cut, I have the feeling we have crossed from the other side of the tracks. The feeling comes into sharper focus as we tie up to our mooring in the harbor of Spanish Wells.

After our time in the outer islands of the Exumas and Eleuthera, Spanish Wells seems like a prosperous little island. Sitting right off the northern tip of Eleuthera, it is the center of the Bahamian lobster industry. If you have a lobster tail at Red Lobster, and I'm not sure why you would, it likely comes through Spanish Wells. In the early European history of this country, this was an important port. Back when Spanish galleons sailed this way, they would stop here to refill their water casks.

On this side of the tracks, there is no funk. The fishing boats in the harbor are freshly painted and in good condition. No derelict boats or rusted tubs in this harbor. Buildings along the harbor are in good repair. The all ages school and pink government clinic building are well maintained.

For sale in Spanish Wells

 

We walked around the town. As far as we walked, we saw neat small bungalows with garages. They are painted in all the Bahamian colors--yellow, white, turquoise, pink, violet, pastel blue and green. No two adjacent houses are the same color. Most of the single story houses  wouldn't seem out of place in the older, less fancy, parts of Florida. A lot of houses have FOR SALE signs.

There is a huge supermarket at one end of town. A row of compressors behind, sitting in line like black birds on a telephone wire, indicates a serious amount of modern refrigeration and air conditioning here. In common with other islands in the Bahamas, everything is closed. It is Sunday.

There are few people out. A guy brakes his golf cart to a halt next to us. He hands us a card to his liquor store and snack bar. He is closed today, but will open the liquor store for us if we need anything. We don't, but appreciate the gesture. Some people driving by wave. Others don't. Nearly every face is white.

A couple black Bahamians walk past. We say, "Hi." They return the greeting quietly, eyes down. On this side of the tracks, so far, there is not the open and welcoming friendliness of the other side. We'll see how this initial impression plays out tomorrow.

Dinghy dock, Spanish Wells harbor

2/17/14 Spanish Wells.

Monday. The town came alive today. The island is two miles long and a half-mile wide, and people and cars travel along the two main streets. One street is along the waterfront. The other, a few blocks over, goes past the supermarket, the bank, stores and take aways (restaurants), and the island's radio station, Splash FM. 89.9. Here, the owner, Chris Forsythe, also fixes electronics. Today, he became our new best buddy.

I found Chris' name in our cruising guide. I had been looking for someone to take a look at our VHF radio. I called him from Rock Sound and told him our radio didn't seem to reach more than a few miles.

"How long has this been going on," he asked.

I really don't know. On Lake Champlain, we rarely use the radio, and when we do, it's not to call very far. Coming down the ICW, we called drawbridges, but used the hand-held radio. I didn't suspect anything was wrong until we were crossing the Atlantic to Bimini and couldn't hear some of the leading boats in our group.

It has been a problem for us since. In the Bahamas, we have not been able to get weather forecasts or hear the cruisers net.

"It's very dangerous to go across the ocean without good communication," Chris noted on the phone.

"Can you help us?" I asked

"That's what I do," he said. "Call when you get here."

I called this morning. Within 20 minutes, as soon as he could finish his breakfast, Chris was standing across the harbor at the gas dock. I picked him up in the dinghy. He was carrying a meter and a portable antenna with him.

He used the meter to determine that the radio works quite well. "It's a very good radio," he noted. The antenna segment from the radio to the mast is OK. The old antenna I replaced is fine. The segment of wire that goes up through the mast is reflecting energy back into the radio and needs to be replaced. His recommendation: buy an 8-foot whip antenna and attach it to the rail at the back of the boat. Interestingly, our friend, Steve, on Farmers Cay, told us the same thing.

We drove in his van a few blocks along the harbor to the marine supply and bought an antenna. He took me to his shop at the station where he soldered a connection onto the lead in wire. He sold me a mounting bracket for the rail. He was thorough and quite reasonable.

At the station, I met his wife, Jane, who is a native of Hope Town in the Abacos. She lived in Nassau, where Chris is from. I ask who lives on  Spanish Wells now. "Do a lot of the houses belong to foreigners?" "No, most are Bahamian." I wonder why there seems to be so many for sale. The economy, Chris notes, is not doing was well as it used to. Interest rates are high. Some houses are in

Walking down a street in Spanish Wells

foreclosure.

There are some large houses facing the ocean and the harbor, but in between, the houses are quite modest. Where there are names, the houses reveal families such as Sands, Albury, and Pinder.

I found the Forsythes and others we met very open and friendly. I love the small houses painted with the island colors. One side of the tracks or the other, we're still in the Bahamas, and it still feels good. I was glad to find this out.

After getting the radio back together. the commander and I dinghied in to the dock and walked around the island. We walked two miles up to the western end past the supermarket to the public beach and park. Then back along the waterfront. Cars and golf carts passed us. There seem to be about three golf carts for each car. This makes sense to me. Several golf carts full of tourists passed us as we walked up the island. They passed us again on our way back, waving as they drove by.

We stopped at the market to pick up a few things. I asked the cashier when boat day is. "Wennes Day," she replied. "But we don't get things put out until Thursday."

If you look closely at the people you can see traces of various races, and if you listen closely, you can hear echoes of different accents. I'm sure there is some English spoken that goes back to the Loyalist settlers. Perhaps the three-syllable pronunciation of Wednesday is an example of this. Chris spoke with more of a Caribbean accent, though much easier to understand than that spoken on Eleuthera or Exuma.

After shopping, we took our liquor store friend's invitation and stopped at what seemed like his house to buy a box of red wine. Hence, we met Buddha and his friendly wife. They operate a snack bar out of an old school bus on the same lot as the liquor store. At the picnic tables between store and bus were the tourists who had passed us. Someone congratulated us on our long walk.

Lunch at Buddhas

While waiting for lunch, I went into the store and bought a beer. For some reason, I thought I would try the other Bahamian beer: Sands. While we were sitting, a man came up to us, saying, "I'm glad to see you're drinking a Sands." His Massachusetts accent was clear.

An ex-pat from Cape Cod, Jack has worked arranging events for companies. There is a gray-haired man sitting with his back to us among the group of tourists. He is Mr. Sands, the brewer, and the others are his guests. He has a house at the end of Gun Point, on the island just north of us. Jack, the tour guide, gets me another Sands beer. Later, I see Mr. Sands and thank him for his beer. He is an elderly gentleman with a deep voice and a Bahamian accent. Avuncular in appearance, he could be Col. Sanders without the facial hair. "You're welcome," he said. He brews good beer.

We returned to Luna by mid afternoon to find that Mar-a-Lago and Amarone had left for Royal Island. About six miles to the west, Royal is the jumping off place for the next leg of the journey. This will be a fairly long one. It is more than 50 miles across the deep ocean Northeast Providence Channel from here to Little Harbour, Abaco.

We had thought to spend the day in Spanish Wells and leave very early to catch up with our friends tomorrow. Time to try the VHF. I put out a call on Channel 8, "B to B fleet (Biscayne to Bimini), this is Luna." Immediately, Bruce's bell-clear voice came on the radio in response. "Yes!" I thought.

The others want to leave by 6:30 in the morning and are hoping we will come to Royal this afternoon. We are done in Spanish Wells, and decide to cast off the mooring and make the hour's trip now. Before leaving, I called Chris Forsythe to thank him again for his help and tell him the radio is working perfectly, much to our comfort and delight.

2/18/14 Royal Island to Lynyard Cay, Abaco, Bahamas. 56 nm
2/19/14 Lynyard Cay to Little Harbour, Abaco. 2.2 nm.

Yesterday, the crossing from Royal Island was our third longest passage to date. It was longer by just a few miles than the one from Key Biscayne to Bimini but produced far less angst. We feel more confident in Luna and ourselves.

The wind was stronger and waves higher than the crossing to Bimini. We beat into a 12-15 kt northeast wind. Ocean swells of 4-6 feet lifted Luna but did not break over her bows. With engine running, we maintained 6-7 kts. Leaving Royal Island at 6:30 am, we arrived in the Abacos at 3:30. We passed through the inlet above Little Harbour near low slack tide. We anchored north of Little Harbour because the entrance there is too shallow to pass until the tide rises.

The Sea of Abaco is the shallow bank between the outer barrier cays and Great Abaco Island. Unlike the banks in the Exumas, cruising destinations are close together. We will not be out of sight of land, and there will be no long passages. We can come and go depending on wind direction and our own desire. In that respect, the Sea of Abaco is like Lake Champlain. We look forward to sailing here.

There is an entirely different feel here than in the Exumas and Eleuthera. We can see why this is a popular cruising destination for those who do not wish to "get away from it all." There are more facilities that appeal to cruisers. People come here and stay. Bob and Annie, our Massachusetts friends from Cape May, arrived in Man-o-War on January 27 and are still there. We met Sam and Kayda from Maine. They leave their 30-foot Cape Dory motor-sailer in Green Turtle Cay for the summer and live on it in the winter in the Abacos.

The Abaco cruisers' net starts at 8:15 on VHF channel 68. As Dorothy realized, we are not in Kansas anymore. The net goes on for at least 30 minutes. By comparison, it makes the Georgetown net look like your third grade show-and-tell. People report Abaco weather conditions up and down the chain of islands. Restaurants check in from Hope Town, Man-o-War, Little Harbour, Marsh Harbour. There is a sailboat race to mark the 50th anniversary of the Hope Town Sailing Club. There is a three-day song writers workshop. There is a Junkanoo exhibition this weekend at Marsh Harbour.

Little Harbour is a small protected anchorage at the southern end of Great Abaco Island. There are

Pete's Pub

sea turtles in the water and coconut trees on the shore.There are moorings for rent for $20 per night. Luna, Mar-a-Lago, and Amarone II occupy three of them. From our mooring, we can hear the surf breaking on the beach just on the other side of Pete's Pub and Gallery to our east.


This afternoon, we're sitting in Pete's having lunch. On the menu today is a grilled triggerfish sandwich that comes with rice and coleslaw. The waitress says it's not often they get triggerfish, and it's the best thing on the menu.

Trying to get the ring on the hook

While we're waiting, I play a pub game I saw first in South Bimini. A brass ring hangs from the ceiling on a string. On the wall, about 10 feet away, is a hook. The object of the game is to swing the ring and land it on the hook. It's actually possible to do this.

Pete's is at the head of a small beach where we leave the dinghy. It has a sand floor. Palms thatch the roof. The rafters are decorated with old T shirts left by scores of former patrons. The latter design element is not particularly pleasing to the commander. The tiki bar. After nearly two months, the reality of the Bahamas has caught up with our imagination of it. In time, we'll process it all and decide which image of the Bahamas suits us best.

Beside operating the pub and maintaining the mooring field, Pete Johnston is a sculptor in brass. So was his father, Randolph, who left his teaching position at Smith College and moved here in the early 1950's. At the time, he was disillusioned with life in America after World War II. Society had not learned the lessons of the war in his opinion, and science was devoted not to making life better but to devising more effective ways of killing.

We learned that he landed with his family in Man-O-War in 1952. When the house they were renting was sold, he bought a 47 foot schooner, Langosta. The family explored the Bahamas for two years, eventually returning to the Abacos and settling in Little Harbour. After worms attacked Langosta's bottom, Randolph Johnston moved his family into a cave on the harbor while he was building his house. Eventually he added the foundry as well. He devoted his time in the Abacos to creating art that celebrates life: images of the sea, fishermen, dolphins, coral reefs

Exploring the cave at Little Harbour

 The elder Johnston came searching for a quieter life. In Little Harbour today, there are several houses overlooking the water. The mooring field is full of boats. The pub is busy with cruisers and a boat load of tourists that just arrived from Marsh Harbour on a snorkeling expedition. Were he still alive,

Pete Johnston with Lyndon Pindling, in progress

Ran would have to look elsewhere for a quiet life.

As was his father, Pete is a sculptor of some renown. Currently, on commission from the Bahamian government, he is working on a life-size statue of the Hon. Lyndon O. Pindling, first Prime Minister of the Bahamas. We visit Pete in his studio. There will be a casting tomorrow, and all are invited to watch. We spend the evening wondering, "How can they pour molten metal into a mold and come out with a hollow sculpture?"

2/21/14 Little Harbour to Tilloo Cay, Bahamas 12.2 nm

We spent a second day in Little Harbour yesterday. Saw the studio workers pour molten bronze into three ceramic molds. Had another excellent grilled fish lunch (blackened grouper this time) at Pete's Grill. Walked a bit on the beach. Walked past some of the modest vacation homes near the harbor.

This morning, I did a boat chore: took an abrasive pad to the algae and small barnacles that were growing on Luna's waterline. It looked like she was growing a beard of green hair on her boot stripe.Then, at high tide, we untied the mooring line and headed north toward Hope Town.

You need the high tide to leave Little Harbour, and you need the high tide to enter Hope Town. High tide is at 11:15 am. We couldn't do both, so we dropped anchor in a protected spot south of Hope Town at the northern end of Tilloo Cay.

The Sea of Abaco continues to remind us of Lake Champlain as we sail north.We can see both shores. There are bays and places to anchor. And wherever we look, there are vacation cottages on the shores. There are not the empty spaces of Eleuthera and the Exumas.

The houses on the shore are not the modest Bahamian houses we saw in Spanish Wells. Like the causarina trees, these houses are foreign invaders taking over the shoreline. But the economy has not been kind to vacation homes. As in Spanish Wells, many houses in Little Harbour have For Sale signs outside.

Clearly, we are on the road more travelled up here in the Abacos. There are some signs of environmental stress from the large population of vacationers and cruisers. The conch fishery has declined here. And the water is not crystal clear as it was in the Exumas. There are more grassy patches growing up from the sandy bottom.

The commander and I discuss our plans for leaving and decide to delay things for a couple weeks. This will give us time to explore around a little. It will allow us the luxury of moving in unhurried fashion. And, if we need time for Lake Champlain to warm up before we can return to Vermont, better to wait down here than up north somewhere.

Our plan now is to sail north through the Abacos until mid March. Then, as favorable winds allow, cross the Gulf Stream northward to Ft. Pierce, FL. In between, we'll get to visit the popular Abaco places: Hope Town, Marsh Harbour, Man-O-War, Green Turtle Cay, Great Guana Cay. We start tomorrow by taking in the song writers workshop announced on the cruisers net. It's at Lubbers Landing, a restaurant and bar on the cay just north of our anchorage.

Looking back toward Spanish Wells from the beach at Little Harbor