Five days and almost 100 nautical miles farther north since last we wrote, we find ourselves in the small harbor of Man O War Cay in the Abacos. We picked up a mooring ball for Let’s Dance just a few hundred feet from the fuel dock of the local marina. There will be exploring tomorrow, but for today we just conclude our standard arrival check list and prepare for another Bahamian sunset. All systems turned off and mooring lines secured, Captain Bill turns on the generator to re-charge our batteries. The generator splutters, gags and then shuts down with a loud thunk. Hmmmm…..this is not part of the standard arrival procedure. Not at all.
We study the guide books and chart information to learn that one of the best mechanics in the entire Abacos works out of this harbor. This is great news! He can come over to the boat, analyze the problem, solve it, and we’ll be set to leave in a day or so at our leisure. Next morning, the captain goes ashore to check it out to learn that indeed, there is a great mechanic, but he is off island and may return in a day or two. Okay, we can wait, but we can’t stay on the mooring, because without the generator we will soon run out of power since the engine isn’t running to charge the battery bank. (Too much information? Sorry.) The marina has room for us and they supply power, water, showers and camaraderie, we learn. As we attempt to snuggle up to the dock, several nice men come over to take our lines and help us tie up. This is a good thing because my throwing arm is way out of shape and even tossing a line the few remaining feet to the dock is a challenge. After successfully throwing the spring line into the water, twice, I manage to lob it onto the dock and we are secured. Neil and Peter, our helpers, laugh with us (at us?) and confirm that as a boater, when you are docking you are “the entertainment” for those already secured. We could go national!
Docked at the marina, we have a front row seat to the activity in the harbor. There is a continuous ebb and flow of commercial and recreational traffic. Small passenger ferries bring tourists from Marsh Harbor. Rental sailboats and cats steam in and out at regular intervals. A long, steel gray barge, probably a WWII relic, arrives daily to bring supplies and fuel. It is a noisy, chaotic, irreverent little harbor and we are loving the show. Then, we notice a rather rundown sport fishing boat, with some of its windows boarded up, approaching the fuel dock right in front of us. It is named “Hideout” and it sounds like a good tune-up is in order. Something is odd here, though. The captain, up on the fly bridge, has on fatigues and a helmet; the crew carry shot guns. Whoa! What is this about?
As we watch in wonder, and just a tiny hint of concern, one of the crew retrieves a red, rolling suitcase from the interior cabin. Drugs? No, we soon learn, money! While the captain remains at the helm, keeping the rundown boat at the dock, the two crew members alight with the suitcase and the shot guns and head up the dock towards town, checking closely for any unwanted advances. They return, sans suitcase, about fifteen minutes later, drop completed. Very interesting. About three hours later, Hideout returns noisily, crew with guns are discharged and return with the mysterious red suitcase -- now presumably filled with deposits.
Peter and Neil, our helpful dock hands, both have boats stationed at the marina. Neil and his wife are from Hungry Horse, MT (not widely known as a boating mecca), while Peter and Diane are from Hull, MA. The Windemere, Peter’s boat, is a real life lobster boat, complete with winches and hoses and an open cockpit, that they brought down for a few months of sun in the Bahamas. There was a real feel of community at the marina and we soon knew almost everyone there. One day, fifteen of us were invited aboard the Windemere and ferried over to Marsh Harbor for lunch. It was Fajita Friday at the Jib Room, after all.
Many of the people that we’ve met along the journey spend days, even weeks, at marinas. At Man O War Marina, some had been there for months. Our style is much more peripatetic -- we like to move every two or three days…just because we can. And so, generator malfunction righted (it was, once again, a simple case of operator error) we are off to the next adventure. Two months into the dance, the Captain and I are still communicating, and this is a good thing. Fresh fish for dinner tonight aboard
Let’s Dance…….Carol & Bill
