On to northern Florida

From the Captain

3/23/14 Nasa Space Center to Adventure Yacht Center, Port Orange, FL. 44.4 nm.

We're told that the climatic dividing line between north and south Florida runs across the state at the top of Lake Okachobee. On the east coast, this line ends at Vero Beach. North of that line, as we are, temperature will start to be a factor in the trip. Compared to other cruisers making this trip, we are somewhat early, the start of the line of snowbirds migrating north. We'll plan to check the weather, and linger at stops before heading further north.

Today, we made an easy passage, motorsailing with the jib when we could against a light northwest wind. We are seeing dolphins in the cooler water now. They were rare in the Bahamas. It's nice to have them back.

Adventure Yacht Harbor is a friendly place a little south of the Seven Seas Marina where we stayed on the way down. Phil and Nancy stayed here on Emerald Sunset and recommended it. Of all the places we've stayed, it's the first we could receive a workable wifi signal right on the boat.

Dinner with Jerry, Siri, and Friends in Ormond Beach

However, we weren't there for long. My father and Siri drove down from Ormond Beach and took us back to their place for a couple nights. We had a short visit and did a little more shopping. I took my father to Advance Auto Parts to buy a new supply of Rotella (oil) and a couple new filters. Motor oil costs less at Advance than at West Marine, and the former will let you dump your used oil.

Jerry and Siri were the early inspirations for our trip, and we were eager to share experiences of the Bahamas as we found them. They also invited a couple for dinner. Shirley, was a cruising friend from 25 years ago, and she had spent time in the Bahamas as well.

The counter clockwise wind shifts from two days before indicating the arrival of another cold front. We're getting used to spotting these. Our day in Daytona was cool with a brisk north wind. The flannel shirt, fleeces, and jackets have come out.

3/24/14 Adventure Yacht Center to Cement Plant Anchorage, north of Flagler Beach, Florida. 26.5 nm

We returned to the marina mid morning and said good-bye once again to my father and Siri. The temperature was still cool, but the sun was out and the wind seemed to have moderated. We decided to motor north toward St. Augustine. I emptied one of the jerry cans of fuel into the tank and refilled it as we checked out of the marina. Once on the open waterway, we found the wind  stronger than on shore. There are no significant waves in the river, but plodding into a headwind is slow. Our average speed dropped by a knot to about five.

We considered returning to shore, but decided to solider on. The forecast calls for diminishing winds tomorrow. We won't get very far today, though. We looked at the Garmin Blue Chart on the I-pad. There is a protected anchorage in a basin served by a narrow canal above Flagler Beach. There is an idle cement plant here and the factory that makes Sea Ray boats. The evaluations from other sailors who have stayed here suggest the view is OK in certain directions, and the anchor holding is fair. No one mentioned the huge barge parked in the middle of the basin.

Quiet anchorage past the Sea Ray boat factory

 Somehow, we managed to get a little beyond the barge and set a stern anchor so we wouldn't swing into it. The wind built and howled overnight. The water in the little cove remained smooth as glass. Luna did swing a little, but stayed a good distance from the barge. The Rocna anchor on the bow held the bottom without problem.

3/26/14 North Flagler Beach to Rivers Edge Marina, St. Augustine, FL 27.7 nm.

When we woke in the morning, the cabin temperature was 52 degrees, thanks to the passing cold front. The wind showed no sign of moderating as predicted. We could spend another day here--not much fun--or continue fighting the wind, and now the cold, to St. Augustine. We chose St. Augustine. Rather than spend a cold, rough day and night on one of the public moorings, we called ahead to reserve a slip up on the San Sebastian River. Our friends on Mar-a-Lago and Mighty Fine (Brian and Jane, Craig and Donna) had stayed here coming south.

On the way north, the cold was intense. We were bundled with hooded jackets, gloves. We steered in 30-minute shifts. Between shifts, we hunkered down in the sun in the front of the cockpit under the dodger and out of the wind. We questioned our sanity and judgment. We soldiered on. The north wind drove the cold right through the clothes. I noticed, however, that occupants in the boats heading south were dressed similarly to us.

Get used to it--we're not in the Bahamas any more. We're headed north. It's cold up there. We resolved to pay more attention to the forecasts, try to stay behind the cold, and avoid north wind passages when we can. A better option might have been to wait out the weather back in Daytona. We could have made the entire 54-mile passage to St. Augustine on 3/27, when the wind abated and turned eastward and the temperature rose.

On the other hand, here we are. We'll have a nice sunny day in St. Augustine. As Brian told us when he suggested we stop here, Rivers Edge Marina seems like a nice, friendly place. On our way in, Paul, the dock master, was standing out on the T-dock. He directed us to slip A-11 on the VHF radio. In my head, Richard Thompson was singing of lost love:

I don't know you from Adam,
But if you're going to play the jukebox,
Please don't play A-11.
Please don't play A-11

 "There's a flood current," Paul called out. "Go up past us and turn around into it, if you would like."

If we would like? We were most grateful for such sound advice based on local knowledge. We went up the wide channel, turned 180 degrees, and approached the slip against the current. Luna slid in easily, and Paul helped us with our lines. It was our smoothest docking experience so far.

Luna in her slip at Rivers Edge

Here is another luxury we have missed in the Bahamas: floating docks. These rise and fail with the tide. So we can tie our lines to the dock rather than to the pilings. Luna stays tight to the dock, and the lines don't need adjusting to compensate for the tides. The nicest marinas have floating docks, but we saw none in the Bahamas. We can step off luna onto a floating dock, but at low tide with a fixed dock, we've had to perform some interesting gymnastics to climb on or off Luna in some marinas.

Our friend, Tom, drove over from Hastings, and we had happy hour on Luna. Plugged into shore power, we turned on the electric space heater. The wind finally decreased. We walked a short distance to King Street for a dinner at Carmelo's Pizza. I recommend Tom's favorite vegetarian Supreme Pizza. We split a piece of peanut butter pie for dessert.

4/27/14 Rivers Edge Marina, St. Augustine, FL

Rivers Edge could be my favorite marina. It's small enough so the services--bathrooms, laundry, office, holding tank pumpout--are close by. There is a huge fruit and vegetable stand right out on Rt 1, just a block away. There is a supermarket, West Marine, Home Depot within walking distance to the south. St. Augustine itself is within walking distance to the north and east.

The marina is just funky enough so Luna does not seem out of place. Most of the boats are near her size and general condition. No shiny mega-yachts here. The dock master, Paul, is very friendly and helpful. When we pulled in, he said, "Nice boat." We signed up for the weekly rate to wait out some stormy weather forecast for this weekend.

There is a restaurant, Hurricane Patty's, at the other end of the parking lot. As a marina guest, we get happy hour prices all day. They serve seafood dishes. We learn it has an interesting personal history. To us, it looks like a popular, somewhat grungy waterfront dive. To our friend, Tom, it's "the scene of the crime."

Tom likes to work with kids. He teaches guitar and drums and has several students. Until last year, he also had a job as assistant music teacher at the Hastings elementary school. He created an after school program for kids who wanted to form a rock band. He was very proud of his band that was of mixed cultural and racial background and included a singer, a couple guitarists, bass, and drums. They rehearsed twice a week. Tom said the band was the pride of the school and certainly of the musicians and their families.

The band's most famous, and last, gig was at Hurricane Patty's. Tom arranged for them to play there. Their parents, friends, teachers, school principal, and community came. They were great. The principal suggested they pass the hat, and they raised $300 to support the school music program.

Everyone was proud and happy. Until, that is, the school superintendent learned of the event. He called in the principal and promptly fired him for allowing the students to play in a place that served alcohol. The music teacher left. Tom was out of a job.

Tom put out the word and has formed a new band of private students. They rehearse every Saturday. They are called "Good Puppy!" and their debut is coming up on April 5. Unfortunately, we'll be gone by then.

In the meantime, we have a few days in St. Augustine. Paul told us about a new exhibit at the Visitor's Center, down by the old Spanish fort. The exhibition, called "Journey," celebrates the 450-year history of African-Americans in St. Augustine. This year is the 50th anniversary of the passage of the Civil Rights Act, and the city played a large part in the struggle to gain that legislation A guidebook directs us past culturally significant locations beyond the Visitor's Center.

We learned that free Africans and slaves came to St. Augustine with the earliest Spanish settlers in the 16th century. The Spanish governor established Ft. Mose (Mo-see) north of the town in 1738. This was the first legally sanctioned black settlement in America. Early on, the Underground Railroad actually ran south--to Florida.

After the Civil War, freed slaves established Little Africa in St. Augustine in 1866. This area of the city, now called Lincolnville, features Victorian-era homes, many of historical significance. We walked through the neighborhood in the afternoon.

Wells Fargo Bank is the former Woolworth's

The civil rights movement played prominently in St. Augustine. We passed the house of one of the four teenagers who sat at the Woolworth lunch counter and ordered a hamburger and a coke. The four were arrested and sent by the judge to the reformatory. The case received national attention. Martin Luther King came to St. Augustine. The governor later released the four, and they were escorted home by Jackie Robinson.The Woolworth store is now a bank on King Street opposite the public square where the old slave market stands.

The steps of the Manson Motor Lodge (now the Hilton Historic Bayfront Hotel) are still there. Here black protesters gained entry to the "whites only" motel's swimming pool as guests of a white patron. The manager, James Brock, ran out with gallons of muriatic acid pool cleaner and poured them into the pool and onto the swimmers. The photographs of this event went as viral as they could in 1964, appearing in newspapers, magazines, and on TV.

Some sources credit this as the event that finally turned President Lyndon Johnson firmly to the course of civil rights. He was able to break the filibuster of southern Democrats and attain passage of the Civil Rights Act. The moving swimming pool photo and many others are on display at the Visitor's Center.

The civil rights legislation advanced the rights of African Americans but not the fortunes of the Democratic party. Following the Johnson presidency, the election of Richard Nixon was facilitated by the cunningly cynical southern strategy that converted the racist southern Democrats into racist southern Republicans. Gone with the Civil Rights Act are overt references to segregation. That language is replaced by the new hate language of inequality, subtly directed toward disenfranchised people of color--"No expansion of the Medicaid rolls. Individual responsibility. Get the government off our backs." Fittingly, the exhibition at the Visitor's Center ends with the campaign posters of President Barack Obama promising hope and change

3/29/14 Rivers Edge Marina, St. Augustine FL.

I don't think we're capable of spending more than two days in a marina without undertaking some sort of major boat project. Perhaps no one is. So, while the commander has been busy defrosting the refrigerator, doing a couple loads of laundry, and reorganizing the cabin, I've been thinking about the holding tank. While we're at the marina, we're not using the head on board, but underway, there is a faint, but distinct odor in the forward cabin over the holding tank. It's worse when the hatches are closed as we expect them to be as the weather turns colder up north.

My thought is that the fitting at the tank outlet is loose. When I installed the Y valve before leaving for the Bahamas, I was unable to tighten the fitting fully because it is a right angle and if I tightened it all the way, it pointed in the wrong direction. The plan is to install a straight fitting and cement a PVC elbow to this then reconnect the drain hose.

I have been collecting parts from West Marine and Ace Hardware along the way, but I'm not sure of the size of the holding tank outlet and want another straight fitting of a different size. Getting the thing apart will be bad enough. Lacking the proper fitting, being unable to get it back together would be worse. This marina doesn't offer a courtesy car, but it has a few courtesy bicycles. I find the black one with two large baskets on the back and a front wheel vaguely resembling a warped taco. It's serviceable, and the baskets will be useful.

I ride up to Home Depot and get the needed fitting. The next morning, we back out of the slip and motor over to the pump out station to empty and rinse the holding tank. Returning to our slip, we are eyed by the grouchy looking Texan standing at the stern of his large trawler, ready to shove us off if we get too close. We don't. Unlike nearly all other boaters, he doesn't even bother to wave.

Today is a good day to stay in the cabin and work on the boat. The forecast is for thundershowers and heavy rains. Everything is ready, but the PVC cement we have is dried out and useless. Back on the bike? Fortunately, Donnie, a live aboard on the sport fisherman next door has a new can he lets me use. I am doubly grateful. No sooner am I back on Luna then the rain starts in a torrent.

The repair goes smoothly. I like to do these sorts of things when we're in marinas, because I can use the power tools if necessary. The multi tool is perfect for cutting the think vinyl tubing. To complete the job and because there's been an odor in the head as well, I also replaced the check valve that prevents the contents of the holding tank from backing up into the toilet. This is called a joker valve because some look like one of those rubber things you blow through and it makes a raspberry sound. I don't know of anyone who has actually tried this.

The projects are done, and everything is back in order. We reassemble our bed in the bow over the holding tank. We'll see if the repairs were helpful as we leave here and start to spend more time at anchor. The sun comes out in the afternoon. A beach party at Hurricane Patty's starts up. I take a shower. For his help, I give Donny a couple Bahamian beers, a Kalik and a Sands, from Luna's locker.   It takes awhile to work out the kinks from spending the morning being in weird positions, but the stiffness resolves as we take a walk. Then I ride the bike up to the supermarket. We're back in fresh shrimp country.

Dinner is grilled shrimp, red peppers, italian tomatoes and onions in fajitas. Accompanied by the music from the beach party next door and a glass of nice red wine. We've been drinking red box wine recently. We throw away the cardboard and just keep the filled  vinyl bladder. It's much easier to carry and store than bottled wine, and it keeps for quite a long time as the bladder collapses and excludes air. In the Bahamas, we found a Burgandy from Almaden that we like. We haven't seen it in this country yet.

It's neither a blessing nor a curse I decide, that the opposites buffet you. The ability to maintain mental flexibility is a great necessity for boat cruisers. One minute, it's pouring rain, and the next, the sun comes out. One minute, you're mired in your holding tank, and the next, you're drinking red wine and eating grilled shrimp fajitas as the sun sets and the boat moves gently in the wind. What a life!

3/30/14 St. Augustine, FL

We have another day in St. Augustine. There is a Sunday farmer's market in Lincolnville that will give us another opportunity to walk. We've met a boat neighbor, Don and Carol, from Maryland. They've invited us over to their Tartan 35 for happy hour. They travelled down the ICW from Solomon's, MD, and spent the winter here. Naturally, they'd like to hear about our adventures in the Bahamas.

We plan to leave tomorrow for Fernandina Beach, the northernmost Florida town. We'll anchor overnight, then set out on an ocean passage to Charleston, SC, the next day. Forecast is for warming temperatures and light winds. We're looking forward to being on the move again.

Fountain at the St. Augustine Visitors Center

They took all the trees and put 'em in a tree museum,
And they charged all the people a dollar and a half just to see 'em.
Don't it always seem to go
You don't know what you got till it's gone
They paved paradise, put up a parking lot.

Jonie Mitchell

From the Captain

Moving north

3/22/14 Vero Beach to NASA Space Center Causeway, 59.4

We woke early and left our mooring at the Vero Beach Minicipal Marina. It feels good to be moving again. We have spent the last 5 days visiting my mom in Boynton Beach. Time to heat up, if that's the polar opposite of chill out. Time to rewind, to compress, to discharge the inner battery.

Moving up the waterway, lost in the rhythm of the red and green channel markers, I am wondering, "If you take a vacation from a vacation, is that the same as work?" Not unlike combining two negative phrases to make a positive statement.

We wonder how long we could live this nautical life. If you discount missing friends, family, and community, that is. Thoreau lived at Walton Pond for two years, and I'm not sure why he gave it up. I'm going to re-read the book. Perhaps he accomplished what he set out to prove--that a simple life lived close to nature was the way to restore a sense of humanity he found missing in 1845. Of course, that was before television. In Florida, we have learned of an airliner missing over the southern ocean. No one has a clue yet of its whereabouts, but talking heads on TV discuss "new developments" in a non-stop fashion. When there is nothing else to talk about, they make news out of people's tweets to the program. I can tell you who is at risk of elimination from this weeks Dancing with the Stars and which videos are popular on You Tube. Civilization in Henry David's time may have taken people away from nature. Today, it's taking us away from humanity.

But, despite the TV, we got a chance to spend time with my mom. We had just a short visit on the way down. Here in the land of cars, I would have loved to have seen one narrow street with cute houses and golf carts. But it's hard to be too negative about anywhere you can walk around in a T shirt and shorts. Especially with the winter they've been having back home.

The commander has an old friend, Gerry, who is here with her husband, Bud. We joined them for lunch one day. Turns out their favorite restaurant down here is our favorite restaurant: Johnny G's. Formerly in a great location in Lake Worth on the beach, it is a victim of urban renewal and now resides in a shopping center in Lantana. Same huge sandwiches and friendly atmosphere. We walked off lunch along the beach in Delray, had happy hour at the fancy Marriott there, and a pizza dinner down the street at the Mellow Mushroom.

At the Mellow Mushroom

And shopping! We've only been gone for two-and-a-half months, but seeing all the stuff in the stores really surprised us. We found a Whole Foods, a Costco, a West Marine, and an Ace hardware store. We finished up at a Publix supermarket on the way back to Vero Beach, where we dropped off the rental car. Believe it or not, of all the things to buy, I was most happy to be back in the U.S. for potato chips. We found them in the Bahamas, but at $4.50 for a small bag, I just couldn't do it. And I never saw them served in restaurants there.

The other thing that surprised me was pulling up to the fuel dock, taking out a hose, and filling our water tank. Free, clean water is something I had taken for granted until it was not available in the Bahamas.

Returning the rental car

Back at the marina, we managed to get a trunkful of food, laundry, and purchases from our rental car into our dinghy. Amazingly, we could do it all in one trip. The Enterprise driver took our car away, and we were back on Luna.

We met Jamie sailing by in his dinghy, which is also named Luna. He stopped by when he saw our boat name. We had seen him before, in Bimini. He sailed out of Massachusetts with his wife and three young daughters on a fairly small boat. He had made the crossing from the Exumas to Lake Worth in one 36-hour stretch a day after we had crossed from the Abacos. We compared experiences. He marveled at the change in his abilities and confidence. When they left New England, the girls were seasick in light winds. He worried about crossing the inlets on the Intracoastal Waterway because of currents and waves. Now, he sailed all night back to the U.S. He encountered a brisk wind at his back and high waves in the Gulf Stream. He enjoyed the sail over. His daughters asked, "When is it going to get windy?"

They had undergone the same transformation as I think we have. We all started out as people who loved to sail. Somehow, along the journey, we have become sailors. At least fair weather sailors. So far, we've been able to pick our days and have not yet been tested by the terrible triad: wet, cold, and scared.

The trip north from Vero Beach was a straight line north up the narrow waterway. We had a gentle breeze clocking from the south to the west and eventually to the north that allowed us to put the sails up for most of the trip.

The commander at the helm for a sunrise departure

The anchorage off the Space Center causeway was one of the nicest. There is deep water to the north and south of the road on both sides of the channel. The wind is forecast to pick up from the south at 10-20kts then turn west late tonight. We picked a site on the north west side of the causeway. Other boats near us anchored on the east side, so we had this space to ourselves. We had an unobstructed view of the sunset, the sunrise, and the space center buildings to the east.



We arrived in time for me to change the oil in the diesel engine and still sit and admire the view for happy hour. We were shaded from the wind. There were no neighbors to hear, so I tried a blast on the conch shell at sunset. Still a work in progress, but getting better.

Carol and Gerry walking on Delray Beach

Green Turtle Cay and Across the Atlantic

From the Captain

3/11/13 Great Guana Cay to Black Sound, Green Turtle Cay, Abaco, Bahamas 15 nm.

Green Turtle Cay and beyond to the north are separated from the rest of the Abacos by a shallow sandy bar extending from Great Abaco Island on the west to Whale Cay at the eastern edge. To travel north requires a short passage at the edge of the Atlantic. This passage is known to those who listen to the Abaco cruisers' net as, "The Whale." The Whale can be problematic when there is an incoming ocean swell and an outgoing tide. If the swell is strong enough, choppy seas and breaking waves, called a "rage," pose a danger to passing vessels. The morning cruisers' net always includes reports, when available, on conditions at the Whale and other passages among the barrier islands.

Today, after two days of light winds and a mild northwest wind at present, we could have traversed the Whale in our dinghy. It was that calm. Once back in the Sea of Abaco, we sailed the short distance from the northern tip of Whale Cay to the harbor at Green Turtle Cay.

Our friends on Amarone II and Mar-a-Lago stayed on the south side of the Whale. They have more time to spend in the Abacos and are off to Treasure Cay. We made the rounds in our dinghy and said goodbye to them for the last time in the Bahamas. We have been together since No Name Harbor in Key Biscayne. In the two-and-a-half months, we have become good friends.

The Whale marks a boundary of sorts. South of here is the hub of the Abacos, where all the cruisers tend to congregate. North of the Whale, beyond Green Turtle, there are few settlements and lots of empty cays. North of the Whale, sailors are either coming to or leaving the Bahamas. Not without regret are we joining the latter group. As if to emphasize that point, our VHF radio cannot pick up the Abaco cruisers' net from Green Turtle Cay.

On the way out of Great Guana, we could see the new development and large homes on the northern tip of the island. It was as Maria Albury at Dive Guana had said: newly constructed homes seem two or three times larger than others. A fancy new marina and resort are going in at the tip of the island.

I reflected on this scale of development as we sailed by. We saw the same pattern in Hope Town, in Man-O-War, in Guana, and we will see it on Green Turtle. The native settlements around the protected harbors have remained intact. Vacation homes seem limited to the ends of the islands, along the ocean shore, beyond the settlements. This seems OK to me. Development in this case brings the demands for more goods and services, which help the local economy.

Of course, with development might also come demands for better and wider roads, more reliable electric power, police and fire protection, upgraded water and sewer services. Taxes to support these could drive the native Bahamians from their homes, as they do in America when neighborhoods become gentrified. So far, the Bahamians seem smarter than this and don't seem inclined to raise taxes. Someone in Spanish Wells told me that foreigners can't buy houses worth less than $250,000. This policy would keep the second homes out of town.

There are two very well-protected harbors on the west side of Green Turtle Cay. White Sound, to the north, is home to two upscale marinas, the Green Turtle Club and the Bluff House. Moorings and dockage are available here, and the fee can be deducted from your bar and restaurant tab.

New Plymouth Settlement, Green Turtle Cay

To the south, by the original settlement, New Plymouth, is Black Sound. There are several small marinas and boatyards lining the shores. People leave their boats here on the off season. Moorings are inexpensive, and the settlement is within walking distance. We steered toward Black Sound.

There are moorings at the bottom of the harbor, and we picked up an available one belonging to Donnie. Donnie has a few slips at his dock, and boats can stay on a mooring or in one of the slips for $10.00 per night. Internet access, which we can get intermittently from the mooring, is an extra dollar a night.

We get a better wifi connection by taking the dinghy to the dock. This is important because we are keeping track of the weather. We can't hear the cruisers' net. We are no longer sailing with Amarone, though Bruce, in radio contact from Treasure Cay across the way, continues to email us updates from Chris Parker. With the internet, we can get daily Abaco forecasts from barometerbob.net. He gives information on the Gulf Stream crossings as well. We can also get the NOAA forecasts for the Gulf Stream and for Florida from a smart phone app called Marine Weather Pro. And we have another app for wind conditions called Wind Finder.

All our weather sources are in agreement.  After the cold front passes, the north wind moderates and swings toward the east and south. Gulf Stream conditions for 3/16 look perfect, but then another cold front approaches 3/17. Our plan is holding: we'll set out from Green Turtle on 3/15. Stop to rest at Great Sale Cay, about 60 miles and eight hours to the west. Then we'll leave there at 10 pm, sail across the banks, and arrive at the deep ocean and the Gulf Stream by dawn for the nine-hour sail to Ft. Pierce, FL.

Miss Emily's Blue Bee Bar

In the meantime, we have a few days to explore the island. Gilliam Sound is a long beach across the road from us. We had a nice long walk and a brief swim. We walked through the New Plymouth settlement. A little larger than the ones after Marsh Harbour, the town has several restaurants, two hardware stores, three or four groceries. Miss Emily's Blue Bee Bar, with bragging rights to the original Goombay Smash, is here.

The fancier places at the other end of the island at White Sound are beyond dinghy range for us. There are lots of places to rent golf carts, but we have enough to see right here.

We visited an interesting sculpture garden featuring busts of prominent citizens. In the center is a monument to the colonial Loyalists, who with their slaves were the first immigrants to settle here. Busts of more recent residents memorialize contributions to farming, teaching, boat-building and boat-piloting, politics, law, and the merchant trade. There are a few black faces, including Sir Lyndon Pindling's wife, Lady Marguerite Pindling, who raised money for the Red Cross and was active in the political movement which led to majority rule and later independence from Britain. Names on the busts in the sculpture garden are mirrored in the nearby cemetery--Roberts, Curry, Albury, and Lowe most common among them. A student of the American Revolution might find the same names among prominent Tory families in Charleston, Savannah, and possibly New York City.

3/14/14 Green Turtle Cay to Great Sale Cay to Fort Pierce, FL 180 nm.

As we see so often, weather forecasts change. No matter how much jargon the weatherman uses, his is an inexact science at best. As we close in on our planned departure, Sunday's perfect window for the Gulf Stream looks like it is collapsing: Monday's cold front is approaching faster than predicted.

We talked to several other boats who were thinking of taking advantage of the same opportunity. All are going to put off their leaving until the weather is forecast to improve next Wednesday and Thursday (really??). The commander and I discuss our situation. The best course seems to leave today. Winds across the Sea of Abaco are 15-20 from the northeast, moderating and turning east in the afternoon. Gulf Stream conditions tomorrow look like light southerly winds and a moderate sea. The advantage to us is being back in Florida and on our way. We would rather take the certain window now than count on a forecast, uncertain at best, for five days out. The disadvantage is having to make the trip without a buddy boat or two. And, significantly, we will miss the happy hour Goombay Smash at Miss Emily's and the special lobster dinner we had planned for our last night here.

It took just a little time to get ready to leave. We paid Donnie for the mooring. We lifted the outboard motor off the dinghy and fastened it to the bracket on Luna's stern rail. We lifted the dinghy onto the foredeck and lashed it down. We stowed things in the cabin, expecting an exciting passage out of Green Turtle. We untied the mooring lines and left the harbor two hours after high tide, a little later than we would have liked, at 10:30 am.

The passage across the Sea of Abaco under jib and reefed main did not disappoint. Reluctantly, when the wind turned east, we dropped the mainsail, then added the motor to keep our speed over 6 kts. We had calculated our passage times based on a 6-kt speed to arrive at our destination, the Ft. Pierce inlet, in late afternoon, when the current is slack.

The northern part of the Abacos is sparsely populated. Small cays might have a large vacation house, but there are only two small settlements toward the tip of Great Abaco and Little Abaco islands: Cooperstown and Fox Town. Beyond that, we are mostly out of sight of land until Great Sale Cay. Though the island is uninhabited, there is a protected anchorage and a popular stopping-off place for cruisers crossing the Bahamas banks. There are three boats in the anchorage when we arrived.

We stopped for dinner, took showers, rested. We watched the sunset and the nearly full moon rising. At 10 pm, we pulled up the anchor and motored out past the other boats.

The moderate east wind continued, and we motor-sailed across the banks in the moonlight. We had the sea to ourselves--not another boat came into sight. The experience was serene. The commander and I changed places at the helm every 90 minutes and rested in between.

By 7 am we were at the Little Bahama Bank GPS waypoint and ready to enter the Florida Straits and the Gulf Stream. The south wind we had expected never materialized, and we motored across the pond. The ocean swells, still fairly high from the frontal winds, created a moderately rough passage, but we enjoyed surfing off the backs of the waves as they passed. Luna handled the situation easily of course.

Ft. Pierce inlet is wide and used by large freighters taking goods back and forth from, it turns out, the Bahamas. The inlet has a reputation for swift currents, and slowly moving boats are advised to arrive at slack current. On our chart, slack current is at 4:11 pm. We arrived at the inlet at 4:17pm. Our plan had worked out perfectly.

Of course, we didn't plan for the culture shock--the large buildings, condos, bridges, cars, motor boats rushing in and out of the inlet, brown water. After the clear turquoise of the Bahamas, it's the water we noticed first. We headed back to the ICW, turned south, turned east beyond the high Ft. Pierce bridge, and found an anchorage for the night. All is not lost, of course. Off the anchorage, the sun set, the moon rose. And, by sailing into Ft. Pierce, we had missed all the drawbridges and the monstrous yachts and houses of south Florida.

But, suddenly, here we are, back in the USA. It may take awhile to process all this. I think of some remarkable jazz tunes I've heard. They start off with a melody, the head. After a while, the soloist takes off. The solo takes you to some other place entirely, dives and soars, twists and turns. The excitement builds, then resolves as the band returns to the head. Lose yourself in the music, and the best of these solos can leave you breathless. And at the end, back in the familiar melody, you are left wondering, "Did that really just happen?"

Sun rises over the anchorage, Ft. Pierce, FL

 Don't give me no dirty looks.
Your father's hip, he knows what cooks.
Just tell your little friends outside,
you ain't got time to take a ride

Yackety Yak (Don't talk back)

Jerry Lieber and Mike Stoller/The Coasters

Great Guana Cay

From the Captain

Man-O-War to Great Guana Cay, Abaco, Bahamas 8.4 miles.

Guana Cay is our next stop up the chain of islands from Man-O-War. It is eight-and-a-half miles and a world away. If Man-O-War is the aging parent you visit in the rest home, Guana is the guy you'd like to have a beer with. And you would, too. All the alcohol that is not sold in Man-O-War seems to flow here. The island is bookended by two well-known beach bars, Nippers to the east and Grabbers to the west.

Nippers boasts a pig roast on the beach on Sundays. Not by coincidence alone, we have arrived on Saturday.


We entered Settlement Harbour, found a mooring, and took the dinghy into the dock. Right off, we came to the grocery, small but very well stocked. We bought a bottle of safflower oil here and admired the fresh vegetables. We walked along the harbor on the familiar narrow street, past neat houses, dodging golf carts. We passed the requisite bougainvillea (does one ever tire of these?), a few gift shops, a tiki bar, and the public docks to arrive at Grabbers. Here, between the outdoor bar and the pool and around the tables near the outdoor grill, we continued to the beach.

Tan your toes in the Abacos

Lounge chairs and hammocks among the coconut trees face the beach. The view is to the west, out over Fisher's Bay and the Sea of Abaco, toward the sunset.

We promptly returned to Luna and moved her to a mooring here. The bay is wide open, and hence the moorings are not advisable in a west wind. But the forecast is for light north and northeast winds for the next few days, and the expansive view is lovely. We have not been in such an open anchorage since Little Farmers Cay, and we've missed it. The view is better, and the gentle swells of the Sea of Abaco will rock us at night in a way that doesn't happen in a protected harbor. We've come to like the easy rocking.

The sun treated us to a glorious show in its descent. In Mangoes Marina, we had met Ron and Sharon on their Morgan 51. Ron is a man with a Sawzall and a passion for conch-blowing. He cut the end off one of the shells we collected and sanded the opening. He epoxied the hole that was made when the conch was removed from its shell. Like an out of state license plate, we now bear the true mark of a tourist--a conch shell trumpet.

And I have been practicing daily to make the thing work. "You blow it like a trumpet," said Brian, who used to play the trumpet. He advised that you don't make farting sounds with your lips when you blow through the opening in the end. "You make your lips vibrate," said Ken, one of the conch musicians at Marsh Harbour. Sage advice, but not particularly helpful, especially if you've never played a trumpet.

At first, I could make the sound of a gerbil who has been fed too many baked beans. Then an elephant with a really bad cold on the heels of a moderately debilitating intestinal virus. "Perseverance furthers," cites the I Ching. "Not yet," notes the commander, her ears assaulted by another failed attempt.

However, at the sunset over Fishers Bay, I picked up the shell and produced a clear note for the first time. And for a very brief instant, I had it. This is still a work in progress.

The next morning, we motored the dinghy to the beach at Grabbers and walked through the town to the beach on the ocean side. The Atlantic beach is wide and long. The sand is fine and soft. You don't need to walk far to feel you've had a good work out. We went a mile or so in each direction and ended at the set of stairs that leads up to Nippers.

Looking down the beach from Nippers

This is a lively place with a great view of the beach. It is a bar and a Bahamian restaurant. There is a pool and a gift shop. It is loaded with tourists. We plan to return later when our friends from Mar-A-Lago and Amarone catch up with us. They are leaving from Hope Town on the high tide. All have expressed an interest in the barbecue. The commander will be satisfied with a fresh lobster salad--and who wouldn't?

Outside the small settlement, there are vacation homes extending in both direction. We were imagining this would be a great place to rent a cottage for a time in the winter. And then, after our friends came, we returned to Nippers and found it absolutely full of young people, apparently on spring break. Party central. The official drinking age in the Bahamas is 18. There was dancing to music too loud, and the atmosphere was not conducive, one might say, to the dining experience we had planned.

We returned to Grabbers. Here too there was a drunken party with loud music for those over age 25. It was like Nippers with larger bathing suits. We took to the boats and retreated to the harbor. Since we didn't want to eat in town, we shared resources with Brian and Jane and had tacos with chicken and the left-over wahoo we had grilled the night before. Far enough away from the noise at Grabbers, we were entertained by another spectacular sunset.

Sunset over Fishers Bay, Great Guana Cay

The moorings at Guana Cay are maintained by Troy Albury (of the Man-O-War Alburys), owner of Dive Guana. Here he runs diving and snorkeling trips, rents golf carts and bicycles, and manages rental properties. Luna is moored near his dock. We signed up for a half-day snorkeling trip in the morning. But before leaving, I visited  Guana Cay Hardware, a large outfit in a new metal quonset hut conveniently right up the narrow street from Dive Guana.

I am coming to believe that you can gauge the amount of second-home development on these little cays by the size of the island hardware store. By that measure, Guana Cay is being developed rapidly. Troy's wife, Maria, who helps out in the dive shop, confirmed this. "In the last year, the size of the homes being built has tripled," she notes. The owners are mostly Americans. Score one for the American economic recovery. Score zero for a  social oncologist, concerned that the malignant megamansions of southern Florida might metastasize to the little Bahamian islands.

The hardware store has a propane refill station, and I took Luna's tank here. The boat never came to Man-O-War to pick up our tank last week. Getting propane in these Abaco islands has not been easy, nor fast. The staff offered to refill it while I waited, though I was happy to leave it until after our snorkel trip. I believe this is the easiest propane source in all the Bahamas.

Troy and his helper, Colin, took us and a couple from Milwaukee along with eight scuba divers to a series of reefs off the northeastern end of Man-O-War Cay. He navigated his large dive boat through the coral heads to a mooring in a clear spot with reefs visible all around. This is part of the Bahamian national park system and a protected area. The reefs and fish were wonderful, though we weren't able to dive deep enough to see or pet the large groupers as the scuba divers did. We did see several sea turtles grazing in a grassy area that Troy pointed out to us.

Troy Albury, owner of Dive Guana

We visited two separate reefs and were in the water for an hour at each one.The air temperature was low 70's, the water almost 80 degrees. We were not wearing wet suits. Several times, I turned to the commander and asked if she was cold. "Yes, freezing." she noted. "Should we go back?" "No!" she insisted. The snorkeling was that good.

The commander with snorkel off Man-O-War Cay

≈

Man-O-War Cay.

From the Captain

3/5/14 Hope Town to Man-O-War Cay, Abaco, Bahamas. 4.5 nm

3/5-3/8 Man-O-War

It is but a short ride on a straight course from Hope Town to Man-O-War. To the cruisers, those two settlements along with Marsh Harbour make up the hub of the Abacos.

We called ahead to the Man-O-War Marina to make sure there were mooring balls available in the harbor. They assured us there were. Nonetheless, we left a float with our name on it on our Hope Town mooring to be removed by our friends when we were safely planted at the next stop.

We made fast to a mooring in the north harbor. This is nearest the town. There are more moorings and places to anchor in Eastern Harbour, the so-called American Harbour, but this is a long dinghy ride in. We find an empty mooring right off the docks of the marina, so it's an easy ride into town.

The boats are packed into the harbor as in Hope Town, though perhaps even more tightly. We are between a couple of large catamarans that just miss us as we all swing with the wind and current. I'm not sure I'd park anything longer than Luna's 35 feet here.

Boats fill the American Harbor at Man-O-War Cay

We took the dinghy in to register. At the dock, we ran into Bob and Annie on Spindrift. We met them first in Cape May, then had dinner together in Annapolis. They have been here for three weeks and have no plans to leave. Except for a brief trip to Hope Town in a couple weeks. They will be married there by Vernon Malone. We are invited, but, unfortunately, we should be back in Florida by then.

We have not seen Man-O-War in 35 years, and we walk around the settlement. Narrow paved streets and neat houses are as we remember them. There are more golf carts. Nobody walks. Other than the carts, we have the streets to ourselves. People don't generally wave. There are very few people out on this Tuesday afternoon. After the energy of Marsh Harbor and Hope Town, my reaction is, "This is like death, on steroids." In the English tradition, the people are reserved, but the affects here seem flatter than Death Valley.

Thirty-five years ago, there were only a few vacation homes on the island. The residents did not sell land to foreigners. Now, however, there are new vacation homes and "private" signs at both ends of the island, north and south of the settlement. We were told that the vacation home owners used to be called Americans. Now they are called foreigners. Travelers from as far away as Sweden have built second homes here.

Albury Brothers fiberglass runabout

The permanent residents of Man-O-War are an industrious lot, and currency flows into the island from their work as shipwrights. Edwin's Boatyard is regarded as the best place in the Bahamas for boat repairs and maintenance. Next door, the Albury Brothers have a factory where they make fiberglass runabouts. Annie Albury still runs Norman's Sail Makers, which now produces canvas bags and totes. Here we meet Sandra Albury, who used to run the Dock and Dine restaurant in the old days. And we meet Fanny Albury, who had the Bite Site where she served conch burgers and ice cream to us and our kids. Both of these women remember my father and Siri, who lived here on their boat in the 1970's and 80's.

There are several carpentry shops by the harbor. Joe Albury still makes traditional Abaco dinghies and models. He has a large gift shop and studio.

At work in Albury's sail shop

I'm sure the vacation residents and cruisers help the economy, but the islanders don't seem to cater all that much to the tourist trade. There are very few shops here. Only a couple restaurants, and, as we will see, no bars. It becomes clear we will have a very quiet and relaxed stay here.

The longer we're here, the better I'm feeling about this laid-back community. Once you get past the lack of smiles, the lack of waves as we pass, we start to see the positives. The Man-O-War Hardware is the best we've seen in the Bahamas. Albury's Market, on Front Street by the harbor, sells nice looking vegetables and frozen grouper and mahi-mahi filets. The marina is quietly competent. They have the fastest internet connection we've seen in the Bahamas, and there is no charge for this.They sell diesel fuel, and we can fill our jerry cans. They have a nice laundry, showers, a place to dump trash, and a pool. There is a sign that the facilities are reserved for dock residents only. However, like nearly everywhere else in town, closing time is 5 pm, and the staff goes home.

I asked about refilling our propane tank, which we last topped off in Georgetown almost six weeks ago. If we leave it at the office, someone will come by, take it to Marsh Harbour for filling, then return it the next day. "When will he come again?" I asked.

"I think he will come tomorrow," Tommy Albury said. So after breakfast, I disconnected the tank and brought it to the office. "Is he coming today?"

"I don't know, let me make a call." Tommy wasn't able to get an answer but told me to call back at 10 am. At 10 he told me, "Yes, he is coming today, and will bring the tank back tomorrow." The guide books says it can take up to 48 hours to have your tank refilled. These folks do what they say they will do, and in some respects exceed expectations.

Without our propane tank, we can't cook dinner, so we go in to the new Dock and Dine at the marina. Man-O-War is a dry settlement. They do not sell alcohol in the restaurant or in the stores. We are here without our friends, so there is no happy hour. It's very quiet. In fact, it's so quiet we can almost hear our livers sighing with relief, "Oh, yes, there is a God. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you!" Of course, the Good Lord does allow a bit of ceremonial red wine. We bring our own to the restaurant. They supply the glasses.

Walking about town, we see very few black faces. Man-O-War has a higher percentage of white folks than a Republican national convention, if that's possible. Sandra, the postmistress, confirms that even now there are no black families living in town. There are black workers in the boat yards and black construction workers, and they may stay overnight during the work week if their employer has a place to house them. This is Tory country. In fact, we even see a few Romney/Ryan and McCain/Palin stickers on golf carts here, though we can't imagine why.

Walking down the Queens Highway, southern end of Man-O-War

Man-O-War is a great island for walking. Where the pavement ends, dirt roads extend to the ends of

Sea of Abaco, right, Atlantic Ocean, left

the island. We walked nearly six miles between the two. The northern end is the more interesting. After awhile, the island narrows, and at one point, we could almost put a foot in both the Sea of Abaco to the west and the Atlantic Ocean to the right. There are new houses along the road and house lots for sale.


We considered moving early to Guana Cay, but a cold front passed on 3/6. Thunderstorms dumped inches of rain, strong winds clocked from southwest to west to northwest. The Guana harbor is exposed to the west, so this would not have been a comfortable anchorage. The mooring in Man-O-War harbor was quite comfortable. The wind howled outside, but Luna did not pitch or roll. The harbor was calm enough for us to take the dinghy to the marina and back. We spent a nice happy hour with the Massachusetts accented Bob and Annie on Spindrift.

By 3/8, the wind had moderated and shifted to north-northwest. Under these conditions, the harbor at Guana, in the lee of the island, will be calmer. We dinghied into the dock, settled our bill with Tommy, bought a few last items at the grocery, and resumed our northward journey.

Beachfront property for sale

3/1/14




Hope Town

From the Captain

We pulled away from Marsh Harbour on the high tide. With the rain the past two days, Hope Town harbor has been full of boats. We have a friend, Frank, on Eleanor Q, there. When we checked in on VHF channel 8, he reported that several boats have already left and he expects others will follow. There are already empty mooring balls in the harbor.

Amarone II was the first to leave. Having the deepest draft, Bruce is most concerned with tides. He will arrive first and reserve two other moorings for Luna and Mar-a-Lago. He will make the reservation by tying a floating fender to the pennant of an unoccupied mooring.

We will follow behind, but first we need to pump out our holding tank. We will sail several miles out of our way to do this.

A couple days ago, before the front passed, we took the dinghy and our snorkel gear across the harbor to the Marsh Harbour Marina. From there, we walked a quarter-mile or so down the road to a path leading to a rocky beach. Off the beach is a sign for Mermaid Reef. Mermaid Reef is an artificial reef created by a local SCUBA dive shop several years ago. It was an easy swim out, and the reef was full of colorful fish. The fish somehow know the area is a wildlife sanctuary, and we hear the local guides feed them. They are not shy. Schools of them swim right by. They don't hurry away from us. They seem close enough to touch, but are just out of reach. It was lovely.

And the water was murky.

I'm sure one pleasure boat pumping its holding tank near the shore will not affect water clarity. But if all do it, as most probably do, water quality suffers.

We are concerned with water quality in the area. We have a pamphlet from an Abaco environmental group that advises not pumping waste within three miles of shore. On the way to Hope Town, we use the measuring function on the GPS to select a point near the cut to the ocean north of Man-O-War that's three miles from Marsh Harbour and Great Abaco Island to the west and the barrier islands to the east. The tide is going out, and here we open the valve and turn on the macerator pump to empty the tank. The tide scours the Sea of Abaco, changing 50% of its water with each cycle.

We arrived at Hope Town harbor right behind Mar-a-Lago. The iconic red-and-white-striped lighthouse guided us to the harbor's mouth. When we visited here 35 years ago, there was a very narrow channel into the harbor. There was a range to guide boats in and very few boats anchored here.

Now, there is a wider, dredged and buoyed channel. Entering the harbor is not difficult. Even two hours after high tide, the water depth measures 6.5 feet. And Hope Town is no longer a quiet little settlement. The harbor is full of moorings, very close together. Like sardines in a can, boats fill the harbor. The engineering is sound. Boats swing, but do not touch. It costs us $20 per night for the mooring.

Hope Town harbor moorings

 The little town has become a popular tourist destination with several resort hotels and many cottages for rent. Water taxis motor through and around the anchorage. We get settled and motor over to a dinghy dock.

Beyond the shore, the town is as we remembered it. Neatly kept houses line paved streets no wider than sidewalks. Bougainvillea add color. Other vegetation is lush There are no cars. The island, Elbow Cay, is narrow, so there is one street by the water front that travels all the way down to the tip, where Tahiti Beach is a popular anchorage across the water from Lubbers' Landing. There are golf carts on the low road. But there are none, or very few, on Back Street, Hope Town's high road toward the beach.

There are more shops than I remember. We visited the tourist bureau right next to the ice cream shop down by the main dinghy landing and government dock. There was a party and bake sale in town to benefit the fire department. The firemen were giving kids a ride on the shiny red Isuzu fire truck. We visited the Wyannie Malone Museum. She was the first woman to settle in Hope Town, and the museum shows early life on the island. There is an interesting sea shell collection, and reference to wrecking and salvage of ships on the reef, but otherwise, the artifacts are not all that different from what you'd find in a small town in Kansas or even Vermont.

And, of course, we walked on the beach. The sand is fine and has a pinkish cast. Just a sampler today. We'll take a longer walk tomorrow. We climbed back into town and walked down to the harbor. At the Harbour's Edge Restaurant we met the group for happy hour and dinner. It's pizza night on Saturdays. Remembering Snappas, I had the jerk chicken quesadilla.



Somewhat more balanced in an international sense, the group now includes Frank. He is from southern New Jersey and keeps his lovely Gozzard 41 sloop,  Eleanor Q, in Annapolis. MaryMarie, his wife, is visiting family in the States and is due back in a couple of days.

We watched as the sun set next to the candy-striped lighthouse. As darkness fell, the light came on, and its five-lens clockwork mechanism began to turn. Five focused rays of light pierce the darkness. Then there is a period of dim light called the "soul."  The pattern repeats itself every 15 seconds. On the nautical charts, this is noted, "GP fl w (5) ev 15 sec 120FT 15M" -- a group of 5 white flashes every 15 seconds 120 feet above sea level visible for 15 nautical miles.

3/2/14 Hope Town

The Hope Town lighthouse is open to the public, and we took the the short dinghy ride to the landing, right at the harbor. The lighthouse sits at the top of a very well trimmed lawn with soft grass. A hedge of purple morning glories lines the western border. It keeps watch over  the town and the harbor. 

There are 101 stairs to the top. The view of the harbor, of the ocean beyond, and of the Sea of Abaco on the west side were worth the effort. As was the opportunity to learn about the history of the lighthouse and to see the clockwork mechanism up close.

The British built lighthouses in the Bahamas in 1864 in order to protect its ships from the deadly offshore reefs. At the time, many Abaconians made their living from salvaging shipwrecks, so the lighthouse was not popular. In 1936, the (British) Imperial Lighthouse Service added the clockwork mechanism and lenses that extended seaward the visibility of the light.

In the Hope Town lighthouse

The rotating mechanism, manufactured in England in 1900, weighs between 3 and 4 tons and turns in a bath of liquid mercury. There is a series of gears to turn the light, turned by a long cable wrapped around a shaft and attached to a weight in the center of the lighthouse. Once every two hours, the light keeper must climb the stairs and wind the cable back up with a crank. The whole thing works like a giant grandfather clock. It's one of only three hand-wound lighthouses left in the world.

The light itself is a huge kerosene vaporizer that lights a mantle similar to a camping lantern. There is no electricity involved in this lighthouse. At the end of the world, when all the power goes down and the GPS no longer works, you'll still be able to find your way safely around the Elbow Cay reef.

Currently, the Elbow Reef Lighthouse Society maintains and operates the lighthouse. In the age of electronic beacons, this lighthouse is for show only. We hear there were three lighthouse keepers. One has passed on. One is nursing a foot injury from last fall and can't climb the stairs to wind the mechanism. The third climbed up last night, wound the mechanism, and lit the lamp. The light turned next to the new moon, its five sharp rays repeating every 15 seconds. After two hours, when the mechanism wound down, the lighthouse was dark for the rest of the night.

View of the harbor and the ocean from the Hope Town lighthouse

The next day, six of us rented bicycles to explore the island. Elbow Cay is six miles long, and Hope Town sits near the northern end. We checked the bikes out at the T shirt shop at the public dock and rode south. The narrow road took us past some restaurants and resorts, and we stopped to check out possible lunch spots.

The most interesting was On Da Beach, which is, as might be imagined, right on the beach, a mile or so south of town. The sign announced, "No shirt, no shoes, no problem. Closed Mondays." There was one problem. It was Monday.

The Firefly Resort looks out on the Sea of Abaco. The Abaco Inn faces the sea. The Boathouse Resort and Marina has an outdoor restaurant and bar. The defunct Elbow Cay Club looks like a hurricane hit it and is decaying on the beach.These are toward the southern end of the island, which is built up with the resorts and vacation homes. Vacant ocean front lots are for sale. Homes range from modest to

Bicycling in Hope Town

mega, though more are in the mid range. With access to a golf cart and a go-fast boat, you could spend your vacation here happily.

The road ends at Tahiti Beach, a huge sandy peninsula extending into the Sea of Abaco between Elbow Cay and Lubbers. At mid tide, when we arrived, much was still underwater. Yachts are anchored in the little bay to the north. We had a brief swim in the shallow sea. There is no surf here.

On the way back, we stopped at The Boathouse for lunch, then rode back into town. There is a mile or so of island north of Hope Town, and we rode there before returning our bikes.

The northern end of the island is by far the more interesting. The pavement stops just above the town. There is a narrow dirt road to the north. Here the vegetation lining the road is thick and there are older vacation homes on shaded lots with well established landscaping. These must be the homes of the original vacationers to Hope Town. The ones on the southern end are newer, and seem a little tackier by comparison.

We rode to the tip of the island, and the road circled back. Above the T Shirt shop, where we left the bicycles, we rewarded ourselves at the ice cream shop. We'd spent the whole day exploring the small island in Bahamian time. After a short walk to the Harbour View Grocery for a half gallon of orange juice, six cans of quinine water, and some fresh lettuce, we were back on Luna in time for happy hour.

On Tuesday, we had breakfast at the coffee shop and used their free wifi connection. Then, we went across the harbor to the marina where for $4.00, you can use their shower. The group gathered at a table in the outdoor restaurant to discuss plans for moving on. There is a cold front coming in two days, and Mar-a-Lago and Amarone are inclined to wait here in Hope Town. We, on the other hand, are anxious to move on, and will leave in the morning for Man-O-War, about five miles to the north. They will catch up with us later in the week.


We walked around the town searching for the dinghy maker, Wyner Malone. Two of his traditionally-built wooden Abaco dinghies are on display at the lighthouse. We checked in the

Wyner Malone in his workshop

museum to see if he is still around. "He lives near Vernon's Grocery. Check with them," the attendant told us.

Vernon Malone runs the town's second grocery, up on the Back Road, and performs marriages in his spare time. He pointed us to a house two doors away Under a flat roof, Wyner was in his outdoor shop hand-sawing a rib out of a piece of tree root or branch curved perfectly for the shape he needed. "I don't do this much anymore," he said. "I get younger people to saw the ribs. I mostly make models now." There is a partially-built sailing dinghy next to him. In his eighties, he has been building boats for over 50 years. There is not a power tool visible in his shop. Nor any plans or drawings.

Abaco Dinghy

We went back to thank Vernon for pointing us in the right direction. We had also read that he makes and sells legendary key lime pies here. We walked out with a couple nice tomatoes and a warm key lime pie that must have just left the oven. The pie passed our make-or-break initial test--it was covered with meringue instead of whipped cream. These days, we find, very few are made this way.

We will not see our friends for awhile, so I suggested we all meet at Captain Jacks, a restaurant on the harbor not very far from Luna's mooring. Tonight is margarita and taco night. Two fish tacos (grouper) for $6.00 and margaritas for happy hour, dos para uno. None could resist. All eight of us gathered (Frank's wife, MaryMarie, arrived by plane to Marsh Harbour and ferry to Hope Town today) for a dinner that extended from 5-8 pm, beginning with the margaritas and ending with a slice of Vernon Malone's excellent key lime pie.

In many respects, Hope Town has been our nicest anchorage. It is a well-protected harbor like Hatchet Bay. Luna sits on a secure mooring. The town is visually appealing, wonderfully pleasant, and there are a lot of interesting restaurants and shops. You can walk or bike everywhere. There is only one thing we have not found here: the Bahamian smile.

Keep watch over the Hope Town inlet

Occasionally in the out islands, we have run across a person whose smile lights our day. Sidney Poitier is Bahamian, born at the southern end of the island chain on Cat Island. His is that wide, very open face and welcoming smile that we have seen as we travelled. Shanee, the manager of Da Spot in Hatchet Bay has such a smile. The last time we saw it was on Monique, our server at Mangoes restaurant. Imagine such positive energy focussed right on you. It's so warm you could melt.  I find it hard to describe otherwise--you know it when you see it.

I have no way of knowing this, but perhaps that smile is the living remnant of the Lucayan Indian culture that Columbus found when he landed here. A branch of the Arawak Indians of the Caribbean, the Lucayans were described as very friendly. Of course, the Spaniards subsequently managed to eliminate the culture through enslavement and disease. The drawings of Lucayans in the books suggest a people with thinner faces and finer features than those with African ancestry on whom we see the smile now.

In any case, most of the people in Hope Town are of English ancestry and much more reserved. We met a lot of ex-pats here, and there are loads of vacationers and yachties. Everyone seems to be enjoying themselves. The atmosphere is relaxed. The vibes are happy. But nowhere that omigod smile.

On the beach at Hope Town