The
Plan was hatched after months of intermittent research and
development. It was simple. Travel to a remote island chain in the
Bahamas where self reliance was essential and contact with the
outside world minimal. A test of our marine mettle, if you will.
Our
charts warn of unsurveyed swaths of ocean floor, covered with
slightly submerged coral heads, dark patches of weed and grass, and
dangerous bars of exposed rock and marl. Mariners are advised that
the positions of all features on the charts are approximate and that
VPR (Visual Piloting Rules), including bottom reading skills, good
weather and sunlight, apply. Okay, then! Off we go!
We
set our course to 271 degrees from Long Island to tackle the wide
open passage to the Ragged Islands. Most vessels making this little
trip would use the cut at Hog Cay near the southern end of Little
Exuma Island. But, being the big bruiser of a boat that we are, we
opted for the longer, but deeper, Comer Channel. Captain Bill
calculated the tides with practiced precision and planned our arrival
at the eastern end of the channel for just before high tide. This is
significant because Let's Dance draws 6 feet of water and the charts
indicate depths in the Comer from 1.7 to 2 meters at mean low tide.
(You will, of course, remember from grade school that 1 meter equals
3.3 feet.)
We
traverse the channel successfully -- slowing as the sea floor rises
to meet us, and speeding up (a relative term for Let's Dance) as
water depths increase. Our trusty depth finder never showed less
than 1.3 feet of sea water below our keel. Good news! Soon the
first outcroppings of the Raggeds, known locally as the Jumentos
Cays, come into view to our port side. "Jumentos"
translates to donkey in Spanish, but none were to be seen. We pass
by cays with scenic names like "No Bush" and "Little
Pear" on one side and "The Driers" on the other. With
a notation on the chart that reads "Caution: Rocks, ledges and
coral. Strong current, tide, rips and frequent breakers" it is
no wonder that The Driers are deserted. Our first stop then in the
Ragged Island odyssey is the unexpectedly beautiful and deep
anchorage of Water Cay.
The
evening was calm and a sleek trimaran in the cove next door proved
that at least one other crew shared our fortitude. Morning brought
back the age of rock 'n roll as long, offshore swells created an
uncomfortable bucking horse motion in the anchorage. We left Water
Cay behind and headed further south to Flamingo Cay. A delightful
French Canadian family on a tiny little sailboat greeted us upon
arrival with an offer of fresh conch and thoughts on local
exploration. A narrow beach and spooky low-water cave proved to be
the major attractions and we took the self-guided tour. In the late
afternoon, a quartet of seasoned sailors bound for Cuba arrived to
rest before their final push south. Hmmmm......Small children and
seniors.....
A
brief rain shower brought a 180 degree rainbow to delight us as we
raised the anchor and motored on down to Jamaica Cay where, according
to the guidebook, a new resort is planned. Well, you know what they
say about the best laid plans.....
The
story goes that the construction activity surrounding the proposed
"resort" was really just a front for drug runners of the
80's and that no guests were ever planned to sun on the beach or
wade in the shallows of the bay. Sounds right to us -- this place is
a real eyesore! We encountered two more sailboats here, one a
monohull with a single hand and the other a cat with a young couple
aboard. Once again, they have both gone by morning, and we are left
to wonder at the lack of anticipated solitude. Bill took the Love Me
tender out fishing and had a great time but caught no fish, so it's
off again to parts south.
By
Buena Vista Cay, we no longer expected privacy. The preferred
anchorage included two more sailboats and "Lady Marie", a
fishing craft, and her rough-voiced captain, George. The fishing
expeditions in this area of the Bahamas generally consist of a
mothership with a flock of small skiffs. The leader tows the small
boats to a potentially fertile area and looses them to spread out
along the inlets and rocky bars. Each skiff contains two men....one
to drive and one to dive with hookah hose for air and net for the
catch. They are after lobster, and often go lower than 80 feet in
search of their treasure. This is illegal, of course, but the nearest
constable is hundreds of miles away. We are offered lobster in trade
for cigarettes. They leave empty handed.
Our
stay in the Ragged Island Range coincided with the moon waxing to
fullness. Every night, each seemingly clearer than the one before,
the moon would rise behind a scruffy, rocky cay to the east and cast
her light onto the flat bay waters. The sand on the slender beaches
appeared to glow in the bright moonlight. Even the dim anchor lights
atop the masts of the unwelcome sailboats did little to interfere
with our appreciation of the constellation-filled skies.
We
spent about a week traversing the shallow waters of the Ragged Island
Range. The islands themselves are low and windswept, with stunted
bushes and few palms. The biggest surprise, of course, was the
number of other boats that we encountered. Our Explorer Chartbook,
Exumas and Ragged Islands, specifically says, (and I quote), "There
is a palpable sense of remoteness and adventure which draws a few
dozen explorers each year." Right. We encountered at least 8
sailboats and heard that another 20 or so were anchored further south
at the 'settlement' of Duncantown -- there for the season and ready
to party! At this rate we could wake up to find the entire Seventh
Fleet in our sights one morning!
So,
we turned and pointed our bow back north -- passing "Loaf of
Bread" and "Nurse", "Brig" and "Seal
Pup" cays on the way. The Plan led to a successful, safe
mission for Captain and crew. We felt good about going to the Ragged
Islands now, because soon it will be said, "Nobody goes there
anymore. It's too crowded!"
Let's
Dance.....Carol and Bill
