Captain Spice

We left Provodenciales (or Provo), the main Caicos island, to explore some of the lesser known bays and bights in the island chain. We bypassed West, North, Middle, and East Caicos to reach our first stop: South Caicos. This isle is home to Cockburn Harbor, a dry, rocky outpost. We tucked into a shallow anchorage in the bay, in the lee of the prevailing ocean easterlies. Limestone cliffs provided protection from the ocean swells and a habitat for sea birds. 

 

A group of white birds with long, graceful, swallow-like tails serenaded us with their chirping as we breakfasted in the saloon the next morning. The birds appeared to have pale green underbellies, the result of the sun reflecting off the aqua waters of the bay and onto their tummies. Pretty! We launched the Love Me Tender and prepared for a day in town. From our anchorage we can see a colorful array of small buildings along the shoreline, ripe for exploration.

So we set out in the LMT across the reef studded bay to find adventure. We are almost immediately approached and circled by a local boat with two occupants. Their vessel is peeling, painted wood, with an open cockpit, and a pretty heavy-duty engine. They come alongside to welcome us and introduce themselves. Captain Spice greets us from the helm of the 'Black Pearl' and introduces his mate in the bow. They offer us lobster, conch or fish! Our choice, and they will go catch it right now for our dining pleasure. We think this guy has a lot of potential. He has the personality, the marketing skills and the snappy patter. All he lacks are buyers. There is only one other pleasure boat in the harbor. We agree to purchase two small lobsters and head on into town.

The Sea View Marina is touted in all the guide books and charts as 'the' place on South Caicos. You can tie up for free! So, right now, empty your mind of any previously held visuals that the word "marina" evokes. Okay? Blank slate? There are no docks in this marina. It is a rectangular concrete pond in which local fishing boats tie up to PVC posts embedded in the four foot high wall to off load their catches of lobster and conch. There are an unfortunate number of boats that are no longer seaworthy and probably haven't been for many years. Their lines float lifelessly in the still water, accumulating algae and barnacles. There is a distinct fishy smell, of course, and sadly, quite a lot of floating trash despite signage to "stow it." We tie up, scramble up the wall and set out for a walk about town.

First stop is small mom and pop variety store where we score a set of dominos for a whopping $15. They are, naturally, made in China and come in their very own nifty blue vinyl carrying case. Next we amble up a small hill to catch an ocean view and are rewarded with a lovely, old fashioned Anglican church. The church was built in 1795 and is still active. The rector came by while we were admiring the altar and briefed us on the history. A retired Canadian priest, he and his wife spend the winters in this tiny, remote outpost. He told us that the people here have gentle souls and are quite religious, if not much in the way of regular attendees. A Sunday congregation of 40 (half of them children) makes him a happy man. In parting, he blessed us, our boat and our travels. Thank you, Father Otterley. And peace be with you.

We continued on through the narrow streets, marveling at the breadth of devastation that past hurricanes have left behind. Many, many houses were simply left open to the elements, weathered and vacant and sad. Scruffy, underfed dogs prowled the streets quietly or lazed in shadowy corners. People were friendly, but it was evident from the lack of pleasure boats in the large harbor that they see very few outsiders, and therefore, very few dollars. Once it may have been different. There is a large, deserted hotel on the ocean side of the island that was abandoned by its Norwegian developers in the 1980's.

We decided that lunch at the dockside restaurant looked a little dicey, so we climbed back into the LMT and set out for the comfort of Let's Dance. As we were leaving the "marina" our friends aboard the 'Black Pearl' came alongside with our dinner in hand. Bill couldn't resist a quick photo op with the lucky winners.

 

So, another evening of Bahamian-style gin, another home-cooked dinner -- lobster! -- another beautiful sunset. Life is so hard!

We're up early the next morning for the 22 mile trip to Grand Turk Island -- another new experience awaits us, but first we must endure Mother Nature's marine roller coaster. Waves splash over the bow as we dip into the troughs then soar up again before plummeting again.....eight to ten foot swells with an 8 second interval -- it could be worse! Upon our safe crossing of the Turks Island Passage, Captain Bill proudly announces, "Thank you for flying Air Let's Dance!"

Let's Dance......Carol and Bill

Simon Says

The very best way to garner "local knowledge" upon arriving in a new port is to listen in on the VHF radio, channel 16. This is the universal hailing channel for seamen and from here conversations scatter to other channels as chosen by the chatters. If a topic sounds especially interesting, we follow along and eavesdrop. It is the 21st century party line!

In Sapodilla Bay, on the southern shore of Provo, we quickly learned that most of the chats involved Simon, harbour master of the nearby South Side Marina. Arriving vessels hail him to see if dock space is available for overnight, or sometimes just for fueling, and for the all important directions into the shallow harbor. This is where Simon excels. His deep, British-tinted voice comes over the radio time and time again with very explicit instructions. Simon says, "It is imperative to follow the waypoints that I give you to enter the marina. You will see dark patches of coral below you, but if you follow the waypoints, you will be fine. There will be plenty of water!" Time and time again, doubting sailors call back to Simon, "We touched bottom, we saw coral, we turned too soon!" Simon should not be doubted.

Mornings at 0730 hours, Simon also prevails. He has his very own "Cruiser's Net" and it's great! First, he takes roll, asking for boats in the marina to check in if they are awake. Dutifully, they do. "Mojo here, good morning, Simon." "Eos on." "Adante here, Simon." Etc. When the marina occupants are accounted for he moves on to the neighboring bays, asking for new arrivals and old friends. If he thinks you're there and just being lazy, he inquires. "Nepenthe? Are you there, Alex?" He does not tolerate slackers in his realm. Even Captain Bill, usually reticent to reveal our whereabouts, chimes in and we are welcomed to the fold. Then Simon relates the upcoming weather -- tides, winds, seas -- for the next five or six days. "Come now," says Simon, if there are any questions. None being heard, he signs off for the day.

We have a week or so before son Paul arrives in Provo, so we decide to head in to the South Side Marina and Simon's world for a few days. After many radio discussions, the Captain feels confident that we can navigate the shallow channel on a high tide and we creep in, with Simon urging us onward on the radio. "Yes, that's it Let's Dance. You're right on the line, slowly now." Making the last tight turn, we are greeted by Simon in person, waving at us to lead us to our slip. Whew! It was a little tense, but we followed Simon's instructions and, in fact, there was plenty of water. Actually, make that about 6 inches of extra water. Welcome to South Side!

As marinas go, South Side is a tropical treasure. It is not the spiffiest, nor the newest, but it has floating docks (a personal favorite of mine), adequate WiFi, a boat load of interesting transient characters and, best of all...Simon and Charlyn. 

Between them, they can accomplish anything, anything at all. You need a rental car? It's yours. Ride to the grocery store? Of course. Recommendations on restaurants? Not a problem. Soon after docking, Charlyn approached, introduced herself and asked if we'd like to tag along with the group going to the market. Yes indeed, our stores were a little low. The shoppers gather at the marina's truck. Most pile into the truck bed in the back, but, because we're new, I get to ride up front. Perhaps a blessing, perhaps not. There is no A/C, radio or handle for lowering the window on my side. It is a trifle warm. Those in the back, however, must contend with the chalky dust (remember the lack of paved roads?) and the directly overhead sun. We jostle along for a mile or so before hitting a paved road, and from there it's just a short hop to the IGA. With fresh veggies, limes and milk (and a much smaller wad of cash), we truck back to the marina. 

 

Since it's Thursday, Simon says, "It's barbeque night at the marina! Bring something to grill and a side to share and your drinks. We will provide the grill, plates and silverware and ice cream sundaes for dessert." We sigh. Ice cream! Count us in! About twenty assorted sailors of all ages gather for a pitch-in feast....stories abound of past and future ports of call, fish tales, stormy weather, calm seas, broken parts, whale sightings....shared histories and new friends. A group of five travelers from the Czech Republic are staying on a sailboat in the slip next to us. Very curious. They never leave the marina, stay mainly to themselves, and at least a few of them appear to sleep on the dock every night. Their luggage and some bedding stays on the dock full time (even during the afternoon rains) and the oldest of the group spends a lot of daylight hours working on his tan. It is not a pretty sight! 

 

On Saturday, Simon says, "Let's all go to Da Conch Shack for lunch!" A head count is taken and the party is underway. We are fifteen and Simon orders rum punch and conch fritters for the table. I can usually do without conch, but really, at Da Conch Shack? How could you not? Islanders sell conch shells on the beach and I have to have one so I can blow it when the green flash is sighted. (I didn't make this up -- they do it all over the islands.) Learning how to make a decent noise, however, is really hard and I still don't have the knack. While bargaining with the seller, we witness a double baptism in the nearby shallows of the ocean. A touching experience.

With several days to explore Provo we rent a car and attempt to accomplish all the errands we've accumulated over the past weeks. We find a marine store and come away with some new anchor line, a nautical sewing needle, and a batch of frozen ballyhoo for bait. At the Five Cays Electronics store we score about ten new videos. They have binders full of ads for movies and you just write down the number and they pull a copy for you. Pirated, of course, but we were desperate for new media, and got all the recent releases. $4 each.

  At the Wine Cellar we replenished the rum supply and restocked the wine cellar. We even drove over to Grace Bay on the other side of the island.....home to the other half. Beautiful, swanky hotels, restaurants and shops abound on long, white sand beaches. Wow! This is a gorgeous island for those looking for an upscale retreat. We, however, are fine and comfortable with our new friends at South Side Marina.

After a few days ashore It's time for us to motor on and Simon says, "Come see us again and safe travels!" We will come again, with thanks for some special memories.

Let's Dance......Carol and Bill

A Big Caicos Welcome

Crossing the deep Caicos Passage from the lower Bahamas to Provo, Turks and Caicos Islands, was a study in aquatic serenity. The ocean this day was most agreeable. Surprising, and oh, so welcome.

The last nine miles (or one and a half hours) to our anchorage in Sapodilla Bay, on the south side of Provo, we were enclosed in a giant pool of shallow water with coral heads to dodge and clear water through which to admire the starfish and rays.

 When we reached the end of our charted route for the day we anchored carefully, and having raised our "quarantine" yellow flag, settled in for another quiet, star-filled night. Once again, we were treated to the sight of the famous "green flash" as we let go of the sun for another day.

Day one in the Turks and Caicos requires a trip into a Port of Entry to clear us and Let's Dance through customs. We launch the Love Me Tender gently into the sea, stuff the backpack with the necessary documentation, life vests, camera and cash. Lots of cash. From the guide books, we know that there is a customs clearing house at the island's government dock, just a short stroll up the hill from the beach. We head out walking and the adventure begins.

First, there are only two paved roads on the island of Provo, and this isn't one of them. Passing cars and trucks kick up plumes of chalky dust and we are soon liberally coated. We follow the road around several corners, and, dodging dump trucks and backhoes and cranes find ourselves at a security gate -- armed guards, no less!

They are friendly, but insist on searching our bags and persons. Since we are wearing only shorts and T-shirts, they relent on the body searches and settle for perusing our passports. We pass the test and are handed nifty little security badges to wear for the 1/4 mile walk further into the compound to the customs building. We play a short game of Dodge-em with the trucks entering and leaving the busy port. Soon we arrive at the barbed wire enclosed office and enter to meet our new best friend, Denise.

It is slow going, but we are able to answer all the questions correctly and are permitted to stay in the islands for up to three months. The quarantine flag can be replaced with the T&C courtesy flag. We choose to pay both entry and departure taxes at this time, along with the cruising permit for Let's Dance and Bill pulls out the Baggie of cash. A year ago a cruising permit cost $75 and the entry/exit stamps were $5 each -- total $85 for all this fun. Last week, however, the corrupt local government having been virtually liquidated by the British, costs have escalated and the permit ran $300 and the stamps $100!! Ouch! At any rate, we paid up and inquired about a taxi to pick us up at this off the beaten track (for tourists) locale. Can't be done, apparently, as they suggest we walk back the dusty road and around the corner to the Chalk Hill Police Station. They, we are told, will call a taxi for us. Okay, we walk.

We arrive at the station and enter, much to the surprise of the young officer at the desk. They must not get much drop-in traffic. He can't hail a taxi for us because he has no phone book. Seriously, this is what he says. He confers with other officers in the back room, and soon it is decided that his sergeant will drive us into town. Oh, my! The sergeant in question, our next best friend Tomiko, appears and we are off. He's delightful...a native of T&C who went to college in Miami to become a cop back home. Obviously an undercover cop as he's wearing ragged jeans and an old T-shirt. He drives us to the north side of the island so we can check out a marina and delivers us into the capable hands of his good friend Kyle, owner of the marina. We discuss slips -- width, length, depth -- entry to the marina at high tide (the only option for us), cost for electricity, water, internet etc. Deciding to think on it, we move next door for a quick lunch at the Tiki Hut. (Or, more aptly, A Tiki Hut.)

Big Jermaine was summoned by Kyle while we ate lunch and is on hand to taxi us back to our southern anchorage at Sapodilla Bay. Our third friendly encounter today. He and Captain Bill talk the intricacies of deep sea fishing (and catching) all the way back and the Captain learns a few new tricks. It's now late in the afternoon, and we are sated by a tasty lunch and coated with a thin film of Caicos dust. Jermaine leaves us and we wander down the beach to recover the Love Me Tender and head home. Now, there was a lesson that we learned the other week, and it entailed anchoring and tidal flow. Remember -- low tide equals beached dinghy? Apparently not a lesson well learned as the LMT is high and dry, a smug smile on her little bow.

I decide on a beach walk while the Captain chooses a short power nap in the stranded tender. What seems like hours later there is enough water below her keel to attempt a float plan and we are aided by British ex-pat Mark and his Haitian refugee friend, Francois. They have been sitting in the shade at the edge of the beach ever since we got here, and now they rush to assist. Mark, it turns out, owns the two bright yellow jet skis that are moored just beyond the low tide line. (That could have been a clue earlier.) He is adamant that he can pull our stubborn little tender into deeper water...pronto! And so he does.

End of day one in the Turks and Caicos and we feel well embraced by our new found friends. Tomorrow we will meet Simon, harbor master at South Side Marina, and begin a new chapter on the ever evolving journey of

Let's Dance.....Carol and Bill