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
