After almost three months of leisurely wandering the isolated cays of the Exumas and the Abacos aboard Let’s Dance, it’s finally time to return to our other world. As with our initial jaunt across the Gulf Stream, this passage was planned with the precision of a military mission. First comes reconnaissance: chart books, guides, calculators are gathered. Angles depicting the likely push of the Gulf Stream flow are factored in as well as wind speed and direction, boat speed (or lack thereof), currents and tides. Sunrise, moon rise, possibility of rain. It’s all there. I am reminded of the old math problem wherein the eastbound train, traveling at 53 mph with 9 passengers on board etc., etc. I didn’t understand it then and I really don’t get it now, but Captain Bill made all the calculations and presented the plan to me, on paper, with drawings, arrows, lines of drift, appendices and all sorts of other data. It was impressive.
Time to move closer to our departure point, “the plan” at the ready. We trek westward until we reach the edge of the Bahama Bank where the ocean plummets from depths in the teens to depths in the thousands. We anchor in our usual efficient fashion and settle in for the last night on the bank. I am awakened at 0430 for an on time 0500 departure. Bill has figured that at 5.5 knots, with a projected 2 knot push north by the Gulf Stream that it will take us 11 hours to transit the miles between us and West Palm Beach. We set the autopilot on a course of 239 degrees even though the direct course is at 267 degrees. Aha! We will fool mother nature by heading further south than we want to go so that we end up at our destination, 22 miles to the north. It works! By 1400 hours we are within sight of land -- Florida in our future -- but wait…..we cannot enter the harbor into Lake Worth at 1400 hours. The current coming out the inlet is too strong, over 5 knots. The result of the spring full moon. It will not be at an acceptable level until 1730 at the earliest. What to do? Exercise the wing engine, of course.
And so we do, letting the little-used engine rev and stretch while we roll about off the coast. It’s time for a short break in the mission and a crew debriefing. There is a ton of information to be reviewed, remembered, recorded and retold. Some highlights for the Captain include the small, sparrow-like bird that entered the pilothouse one morning as we cruised the open seas. The little one rested his wings for a few moments, perched on the compass, while observing Bill at the helm. Refreshed, he flew back out the door, leaving an astonished Bill in his wake. Another special day brought six black fin tuna to our freezer via trolling lines in the cockpit. These guys are fighters, and more than one escaped, taking a “Tuna Treat” or “Dolphin Delight” lure with them. Then there was the day of the waterspouts! Oh, my. You don’t want to get anywhere near one of these destructively awesome displays of nature. Even from several miles away, the volume of water that is sucked up into the funnel is visible as it churns into the clouds. In one day we saw three spouts, and that was enough to last us for quite a long while, thank you.
From my perspective, the precision of the daily operation of Let’s Dance created a sense of order and routine that was both comforting and seductive. It is easy to fall into the lullaby created by the waves, the background hum of the big diesel engine and the variety of music playing at all hours. Given the aquatic backdrop, it’s natural to conjure stories of fanciful encounters with all manner of creatures -- flying fish, sea biscuits, starfish, pelicans, iguanas, wild pigs, jellyfish and dolphin, to name but a few. There are still tales to be told! In direct opposition to the lulling regimen of life at sea are the “wheeeee” moments. These occur with infrequency when we encounter mother nature in a snit. Transiting the cuts from the Sea of Abaco into the Atlantic Ocean can provide such a moment. We watch the weather always, and heed reports from other mariners, but sometimes you just gotta go. Waves in the 5 to 6 foot range can cause havoc on Let’s Dance when they smack us on the beam. The sturdy trawler has no issues, but the crew has to sit and hold on, or crab crawl to a more stable location. Likewise, dipping and rising into oncoming seas brings salty spray over the bow and onto the windshield. It’s a marine rollercoaster, well worthy of squeals of “wheeeee” and gulps of “yikes.”
Next time, we will try to summarize our adventures in a “by the numbers” style recount. But for now, we are safely home on Daufuskie Island, relishing the remembered wonders of nature that we shared aboard Let’s Dance. Here’s a small selection of the abundant natural beauty we captured..….deserted beaches, sunsets and moon rises, breaking waves, coral reefs, sandy inlets and open, endless seas.
Bahama Beaches and Sunsets. Click Here!
Monday, May 2, 2011
Sunday, April 10, 2011
On The Hook
Hello this afternoon from the sunny pilothouse of Let’s Dance. It’s a warm day here on Green Turtle Cay (almost 80) and I’m in front of a fan as I overlook this pleasant little harbor. We came in to this marina yesterday, primarily because of the availability of a semi-reliable internet connection. A bit of interface with the outside world would be nice.
Our winter retreat has now spanned 79 days and the Captain and I thought it would be interesting to review how we’ve divided our time. On seven nights, we stationed ourselves on mooring balls in two different island chains. Thirteen nights we’ve actually paid to overnight at marinas. That leaves a whopping 59 nights at anchor, or, as old salts say, nights “on the hook.”
The Land and Sea Park in the Exumas was formed to help protect the marine life and pristine reefs of the area, so naturally they prohibit dropping large metal objects onto the sea floor where coral could be damaged and fish traumatized. Instead, mooring balls are provided on a first come, first served basis for $20 a night. At the park HQ on Warderick Wells, there is a lovely woman with a lilting voice who answers radio calls from boats seeking moorings. She politely asks for the length of the vessel, sail or power and then assigns the appropriate ball for pickup until all are taken. At other locations in the park, guest “hosts” are available to answer questions and collect fees. These volunteers come from all over the world in their boats to spend time in the Exumas helping others with local knowledge and friendship. These were the same hosts we contacted by radio for aid and advice when we ran aground in the park. Rangers came to the rescue, again with our sincere thanks.
Marinas everywhere are little hotbeds of nautical activity and are absolutely unmatched for great people watching. We’ve only visited four different marinas this trip, and each was unique. In Nassau, we docked at a fairly nice marina that shared a common waterway with a commercial pier. Here the men who worked the boats lived on the boats. There must not have been much work available, however, as most vessels never left the dock. The men drank a lot of beer, smoked a lot of cigarettes and played loud music. The good news was that most of the boats looked rusty enough to sink if they had gone out, so staying in was a good idea. Our next marinas were on Man O War Cay and Green Turtle, and you already know those tales.
That leaves Spanish Cay Marina. We decided to go into this quiet harbor because the weather was due to turn and come from the northeast and we wanted some protection. Forecasts called for the possibility of 50 knot wind gusts, and, sturdy as Let’s Dance is, why be uncomfortable? The island once belonged to Clint Murchison of oil fame, and there are still remnants of a heyday there, including an old airstrip on one end of the cay. A sign very clearly states that no driving is allowed on the runway. Period. OK, then, we won’t take the golf cart we rented down that path. A good thing, too, as several single engine planes came and went over the next two days. That afternoon, ahead of the pending storm, we walked from the southern shore of Spanish Cay across the sandy flats to Goat Cay at low tide. There were some interesting shells, but nothing to compare with earlier finds farther north in the Abacos. The first night at the marina was calm and we met a brave young couple with three youngsters on a bareboat sailing charter. They were delightful and we learned that he owns Westbank Anglers in Jackson Hole ---- hmmmm, maybe we could visit them someday for a little fly fishing?
The next morning came in stormier, and by midday the skies were getting ugly and the wind beginning to gust. Captain Bill had secured us the night before, but added a few more lines, just in case. Let’s Dance looked a bit like a trussed turkey, but there was no way we could be jostled by this storm! There were about ten boats (mostly sail) in the marina, which was partially protected by a stone seawall on the western side. Let’s Dance was in a slip just three spaces in from the end, bow in to the dock. Now comes the exciting part…..a large trawler, a Grand Banks 49, radios in for a slip, and in they come. Just at the moment they pass the seawall and head to the slip next to us, the sky opens up, rains pelt down and the sea turns dark grey and angry.
Huge swells are pushing them into the dock faster than they should be coming in and it’s too late to stop their forward momentum. Helpful hands come from other boats and soon there are about ten men on the dock reaching for lines to secure the trawler. The wife is at the helm on the fly bridge and is getting directions from most of the ten helpers. Starboard thrust! Reverse idle! Go forward! Thrust to port! Stop! (That poor woman!) Her husband is on the bow, trying to get lines to the waiting men. Swells are still pushing the boat forward and Bill and some others are manning lines from her stern to keep her from ramming the dock.
Meanwhile, our anemometer reads gusts to 40 knots and the wind is pushing the trawler sideways. Luckily for Let’s Dance there was a pier between us and the unfortunate vessel, but a piling on her starboard pierced her swim platform and the teak was shredded. Finally, the vessel was secured to the dock, the helpers left to tell their tales and the couple on board were, if not the day’s “entertainment”, at least the day’s diversion.
On a lighter note, there’s the tale of the skipper. The morning of the storm, a very large yacht, which had been docked on the T end of the dock a few slips down from us, began to pull in their lines and fenders to depart. The crew of two, in matching uniforms, readied the ship as a woman in work out clothes skipped rope on the bow. OK. Exercise is good. The ship begins to back up, but winds and current push it toward the pilings on the dock. No doubt fearing ugly scars down the side of the boat from rubbing against the pilings (the fenders are already stowed) the crew grab floor mats to place between the hull and the pilings as the yacht continues to back up. They rush from piling to piling, frenzied to save the elegant navy finish on the hull. As they finally clear the dock, the crew droop against the companionway while the woman continues, uninterrupted, to skip rope. When last seen, the beautiful blue yacht, large, long scratches on her port side, motored west --- exercise class still in session for the party of one.
We like to anchor out. It’s pretty easy to see why now, don’t you think?
Only a few days remain on this winter’s Bahamian voyage for Let’s Dance, the Love Me Tender et al. We will be joined by Leslye and David, my brother and his wife, for a few days to test their sea legs, then it’s back across the Gulf Stream to Florida and points north. Time for a few more nights on the hook where the only drama we encounter will be that which we make….maybe it will be a musical!
Let’s Dance…..Carol & Bill
Our winter retreat has now spanned 79 days and the Captain and I thought it would be interesting to review how we’ve divided our time. On seven nights, we stationed ourselves on mooring balls in two different island chains. Thirteen nights we’ve actually paid to overnight at marinas. That leaves a whopping 59 nights at anchor, or, as old salts say, nights “on the hook.”
The Land and Sea Park in the Exumas was formed to help protect the marine life and pristine reefs of the area, so naturally they prohibit dropping large metal objects onto the sea floor where coral could be damaged and fish traumatized. Instead, mooring balls are provided on a first come, first served basis for $20 a night. At the park HQ on Warderick Wells, there is a lovely woman with a lilting voice who answers radio calls from boats seeking moorings. She politely asks for the length of the vessel, sail or power and then assigns the appropriate ball for pickup until all are taken. At other locations in the park, guest “hosts” are available to answer questions and collect fees. These volunteers come from all over the world in their boats to spend time in the Exumas helping others with local knowledge and friendship. These were the same hosts we contacted by radio for aid and advice when we ran aground in the park. Rangers came to the rescue, again with our sincere thanks.
Marinas everywhere are little hotbeds of nautical activity and are absolutely unmatched for great people watching. We’ve only visited four different marinas this trip, and each was unique. In Nassau, we docked at a fairly nice marina that shared a common waterway with a commercial pier. Here the men who worked the boats lived on the boats. There must not have been much work available, however, as most vessels never left the dock. The men drank a lot of beer, smoked a lot of cigarettes and played loud music. The good news was that most of the boats looked rusty enough to sink if they had gone out, so staying in was a good idea. Our next marinas were on Man O War Cay and Green Turtle, and you already know those tales.
That leaves Spanish Cay Marina. We decided to go into this quiet harbor because the weather was due to turn and come from the northeast and we wanted some protection. Forecasts called for the possibility of 50 knot wind gusts, and, sturdy as Let’s Dance is, why be uncomfortable? The island once belonged to Clint Murchison of oil fame, and there are still remnants of a heyday there, including an old airstrip on one end of the cay. A sign very clearly states that no driving is allowed on the runway. Period. OK, then, we won’t take the golf cart we rented down that path. A good thing, too, as several single engine planes came and went over the next two days. That afternoon, ahead of the pending storm, we walked from the southern shore of Spanish Cay across the sandy flats to Goat Cay at low tide. There were some interesting shells, but nothing to compare with earlier finds farther north in the Abacos. The first night at the marina was calm and we met a brave young couple with three youngsters on a bareboat sailing charter. They were delightful and we learned that he owns Westbank Anglers in Jackson Hole ---- hmmmm, maybe we could visit them someday for a little fly fishing?
The next morning came in stormier, and by midday the skies were getting ugly and the wind beginning to gust. Captain Bill had secured us the night before, but added a few more lines, just in case. Let’s Dance looked a bit like a trussed turkey, but there was no way we could be jostled by this storm! There were about ten boats (mostly sail) in the marina, which was partially protected by a stone seawall on the western side. Let’s Dance was in a slip just three spaces in from the end, bow in to the dock. Now comes the exciting part…..a large trawler, a Grand Banks 49, radios in for a slip, and in they come. Just at the moment they pass the seawall and head to the slip next to us, the sky opens up, rains pelt down and the sea turns dark grey and angry.
Huge swells are pushing them into the dock faster than they should be coming in and it’s too late to stop their forward momentum. Helpful hands come from other boats and soon there are about ten men on the dock reaching for lines to secure the trawler. The wife is at the helm on the fly bridge and is getting directions from most of the ten helpers. Starboard thrust! Reverse idle! Go forward! Thrust to port! Stop! (That poor woman!) Her husband is on the bow, trying to get lines to the waiting men. Swells are still pushing the boat forward and Bill and some others are manning lines from her stern to keep her from ramming the dock.
Meanwhile, our anemometer reads gusts to 40 knots and the wind is pushing the trawler sideways. Luckily for Let’s Dance there was a pier between us and the unfortunate vessel, but a piling on her starboard pierced her swim platform and the teak was shredded. Finally, the vessel was secured to the dock, the helpers left to tell their tales and the couple on board were, if not the day’s “entertainment”, at least the day’s diversion.
On a lighter note, there’s the tale of the skipper. The morning of the storm, a very large yacht, which had been docked on the T end of the dock a few slips down from us, began to pull in their lines and fenders to depart. The crew of two, in matching uniforms, readied the ship as a woman in work out clothes skipped rope on the bow. OK. Exercise is good. The ship begins to back up, but winds and current push it toward the pilings on the dock. No doubt fearing ugly scars down the side of the boat from rubbing against the pilings (the fenders are already stowed) the crew grab floor mats to place between the hull and the pilings as the yacht continues to back up. They rush from piling to piling, frenzied to save the elegant navy finish on the hull. As they finally clear the dock, the crew droop against the companionway while the woman continues, uninterrupted, to skip rope. When last seen, the beautiful blue yacht, large, long scratches on her port side, motored west --- exercise class still in session for the party of one.
We like to anchor out. It’s pretty easy to see why now, don’t you think?
Only a few days remain on this winter’s Bahamian voyage for Let’s Dance, the Love Me Tender et al. We will be joined by Leslye and David, my brother and his wife, for a few days to test their sea legs, then it’s back across the Gulf Stream to Florida and points north. Time for a few more nights on the hook where the only drama we encounter will be that which we make….maybe it will be a musical!
Let’s Dance…..Carol & Bill
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
This and That
We’ve made some fine discoveries along the way. Here are a few snippets for you to enjoy:
Crab Cay -- The beaches on this almost deserted little cay are quite literally “littered” with sea biscuits. These puffy little creatures are dark brown when alive, and when departed, they pale to beige and white. Their tops are covered in a pattern like a starfish. Some are chunky, some fragile, all are amazing examples of nature at its most wonderful. Several will make their lasting home on Daufuskie Island. Shhhh…
.
Spoil Cay -- Baker’s Bay on Great Guana Cay was once dredged so that cruise ships could enter the harbor. No doubt it was a grand idea at the time, but the ships never came and the sea floor that was disrupted was piled high to create the new “Spoil Cay.” Years later, the spoils have become home to myriads of small shells, conch and coral. A manmade wonder.
Fishing -- So far we’ve caught mahi mahi, mackerel, wahoo and a lone barracuda. We are getting pretty adept as we practice for the really big catch. When a fish is on the line (zing!) I take the helm and the Captain rushes to the cockpit in the back. I slow us down to a crawl as he begins to reel the unlucky fellow in. Then I come back to the cockpit, reel in the other line, unsheathe the gaff and assist in the takedown. It can get really rolly when we’re not moving forward, so we take special care not to fall into the ocean. So far, so good, and the fish have been tasty, too.
Green Turtle Marina -- We were docked here for two days, just being lazy. A 60 foot cruiser docked in the slip next to us with three couples on board. As one woman in the group alit, she dropped her credit cards and driver’s license into the water. Ouch! Everyone on the dock peered into the depths below their hull, but nothing could be clearly seen. Unconcerned, they all went to lunch and Captain Bill sprang into action. He pulled out the hookah, attached it to a tank of air, donned his wetsuit top, and in he went. Minutes later he came to the surface brandishing the credit cards. Yeah, Captain Bill! The driver’s license was later found to have settled in the door frame of the boat -- not underwater at all. For his efforts, Bill was rewarded by the clumsy lady with a fresh batch of chocolate chip cookies. Not a bad day’s work!
New Friends -- One of the most rewarding experiences of our travels is the people we meet along the way. Lola, an eighty-something local on Man O War, pedals her homemade bread from her golf cart. We’ve made the acquaintance of firemen, lawyers, CEO’s, lobstermen, restaurant and bar owners, career navy men, taxi drivers, chefs and even a TV host. Some have invited us to their boats or homes for dinner or a drink, some have shared stories of their glory days, some have asked us to visit if we cross their paths in the future. We’ve even met up with folks that we encountered last summer on our Maine odyssey…therefore, we’ve decided it is smart to be on our best behavior at all times.
Slow Dancing -- With our newly installed AIS transceiver, we are now visible on radar to other boats that
have the same system -- mostly large yachts and commercial vessels. Boats are identified by name, type and length of vessel, destination, etc. Since we can’t see ourselves, one day Bill radioed a nearby motor yacht, “Platinum”, to see if they could see us on their radar. They came back laughing that, in fact, they were dancing to our tune. Nice to know we can make people smile!
Mango Creeks -- Jimmy Buffett has a song titled “The Last Mango in Paris” which apparently got stuck in Bill’s head as he now consistently calls the mangrove swamps so prevalent here, mango swamps. We’ve led the Love Me Tender through miles of these serene waterways and it’s always a treat for the senses.
Sailboat Magnet -- It really never fails. There is a beautiful, spacious, open anchorage. It is late afternoon, nearing the cocktail hour. There is no other boat in the area. We anchor. We relax. We breathe in the calming sea air. Ahhh. Then, for no reason we can fathom, a sailboat, or two or three, enter our anchorage, get as close to us as they can, and drop their anchors. We are pretty cute, admittedly, but really, whatever happened to privacy? There is a huge ocean out there, friends. Use it!
Barefoot Man -- In the 80’s, we were blessed to have a family vacation home in the Cayman Islands. One of the must-do activities at that time was a jaunt into town to hear the Barefoot Man perform at the Holiday Inn. Now, too many years later to count, we learn that he is still out there, still singing his heart out for the tourists, and that he has gone global. He will appear at Nippers’s, a Great Guana Cay legendary hangout, next week on the tail end of his current “world tour.” We could go to see him, but why ruin a perfectly good memory? A few weeks ago we enjoyed the locally famous “Pig Roast” with Kalik beer at Nipper’s with friends. Here are some of Bill’s newest friends on the Nipper's beach. Can you spot him in the picture?
Starfish Galaxy -- Crab Cay and Fiddle Cay -- These two neighboring cays are home to the most wonderful array of marine echinoderms that we have ever seen. (Okay, I looked that up -- they include starfish, sea urchins and sea biscuits.) We travel the short distance from Let’s Dance to the shore in the Love Me Tender and just looking over the sides you can’t miss the abundance of starfish on the sea floor. They range in color from deep red to orange to a golden yellow and they are huge! After anchoring the dinghy on the sandy beach, we walk in the shallow surf and I can’t help but pick up one of these brittle guys for a closer look. He doesn’t seem to mind my touch, although how would one know? After the photo op, I return him to the safety of his watery home.
There is more, of course, including (Love Me) tender moments, to share, but for now, we’re content to let you get back to reality…..
Let’s Dance….Carol & Bill
Crab Cay -- The beaches on this almost deserted little cay are quite literally “littered” with sea biscuits. These puffy little creatures are dark brown when alive, and when departed, they pale to beige and white. Their tops are covered in a pattern like a starfish. Some are chunky, some fragile, all are amazing examples of nature at its most wonderful. Several will make their lasting home on Daufuskie Island. Shhhh…
.
Spoil Cay -- Baker’s Bay on Great Guana Cay was once dredged so that cruise ships could enter the harbor. No doubt it was a grand idea at the time, but the ships never came and the sea floor that was disrupted was piled high to create the new “Spoil Cay.” Years later, the spoils have become home to myriads of small shells, conch and coral. A manmade wonder.
Fishing -- So far we’ve caught mahi mahi, mackerel, wahoo and a lone barracuda. We are getting pretty adept as we practice for the really big catch. When a fish is on the line (zing!) I take the helm and the Captain rushes to the cockpit in the back. I slow us down to a crawl as he begins to reel the unlucky fellow in. Then I come back to the cockpit, reel in the other line, unsheathe the gaff and assist in the takedown. It can get really rolly when we’re not moving forward, so we take special care not to fall into the ocean. So far, so good, and the fish have been tasty, too.
Green Turtle Marina -- We were docked here for two days, just being lazy. A 60 foot cruiser docked in the slip next to us with three couples on board. As one woman in the group alit, she dropped her credit cards and driver’s license into the water. Ouch! Everyone on the dock peered into the depths below their hull, but nothing could be clearly seen. Unconcerned, they all went to lunch and Captain Bill sprang into action. He pulled out the hookah, attached it to a tank of air, donned his wetsuit top, and in he went. Minutes later he came to the surface brandishing the credit cards. Yeah, Captain Bill! The driver’s license was later found to have settled in the door frame of the boat -- not underwater at all. For his efforts, Bill was rewarded by the clumsy lady with a fresh batch of chocolate chip cookies. Not a bad day’s work!
New Friends -- One of the most rewarding experiences of our travels is the people we meet along the way. Lola, an eighty-something local on Man O War, pedals her homemade bread from her golf cart. We’ve made the acquaintance of firemen, lawyers, CEO’s, lobstermen, restaurant and bar owners, career navy men, taxi drivers, chefs and even a TV host. Some have invited us to their boats or homes for dinner or a drink, some have shared stories of their glory days, some have asked us to visit if we cross their paths in the future. We’ve even met up with folks that we encountered last summer on our Maine odyssey…therefore, we’ve decided it is smart to be on our best behavior at all times.
Slow Dancing -- With our newly installed AIS transceiver, we are now visible on radar to other boats that
have the same system -- mostly large yachts and commercial vessels. Boats are identified by name, type and length of vessel, destination, etc. Since we can’t see ourselves, one day Bill radioed a nearby motor yacht, “Platinum”, to see if they could see us on their radar. They came back laughing that, in fact, they were dancing to our tune. Nice to know we can make people smile!
Mango Creeks -- Jimmy Buffett has a song titled “The Last Mango in Paris” which apparently got stuck in Bill’s head as he now consistently calls the mangrove swamps so prevalent here, mango swamps. We’ve led the Love Me Tender through miles of these serene waterways and it’s always a treat for the senses.
Sailboat Magnet -- It really never fails. There is a beautiful, spacious, open anchorage. It is late afternoon, nearing the cocktail hour. There is no other boat in the area. We anchor. We relax. We breathe in the calming sea air. Ahhh. Then, for no reason we can fathom, a sailboat, or two or three, enter our anchorage, get as close to us as they can, and drop their anchors. We are pretty cute, admittedly, but really, whatever happened to privacy? There is a huge ocean out there, friends. Use it!
Barefoot Man -- In the 80’s, we were blessed to have a family vacation home in the Cayman Islands. One of the must-do activities at that time was a jaunt into town to hear the Barefoot Man perform at the Holiday Inn. Now, too many years later to count, we learn that he is still out there, still singing his heart out for the tourists, and that he has gone global. He will appear at Nippers’s, a Great Guana Cay legendary hangout, next week on the tail end of his current “world tour.” We could go to see him, but why ruin a perfectly good memory? A few weeks ago we enjoyed the locally famous “Pig Roast” with Kalik beer at Nipper’s with friends. Here are some of Bill’s newest friends on the Nipper's beach. Can you spot him in the picture?
Starfish Galaxy -- Crab Cay and Fiddle Cay -- These two neighboring cays are home to the most wonderful array of marine echinoderms that we have ever seen. (Okay, I looked that up -- they include starfish, sea urchins and sea biscuits.) We travel the short distance from Let’s Dance to the shore in the Love Me Tender and just looking over the sides you can’t miss the abundance of starfish on the sea floor. They range in color from deep red to orange to a golden yellow and they are huge! After anchoring the dinghy on the sandy beach, we walk in the shallow surf and I can’t help but pick up one of these brittle guys for a closer look. He doesn’t seem to mind my touch, although how would one know? After the photo op, I return him to the safety of his watery home.
There is more, of course, including (Love Me) tender moments, to share, but for now, we’re content to let you get back to reality…..
Let’s Dance….Carol & Bill
Monday, March 21, 2011
Man O War Cay
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
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
Monday, February 28, 2011
One Fish, Two Fish
Okay, you’re going to have to work with me a little bit here. I am incapable of putting words to the amazing experience we had the other day, so here’s what I need for you to do. Imagine yourself aboard Let’s Dance…it’s early morning, the sky is clear, but not yet showing the strength of color that will come later. We’re still anchored, preparing the boat for departure. The sea is flat. Not a wrinkle, not a wave, not a hint of movement. Follow me up the stairs from the saloon to the pilothouse. Now, let’s step outside onto the starboard deck and look down over the railing. You are about 8 feet above the water line here. Another twelve feet below is the bottom….white sand littered with giant, black starfish. They are scattered in an abstract pattern that is broken only by the occasional sea urchin and stray bit of coral.
The anchor chain hangs off the bow, falling straight down into the calm water. As it reaches the bottom, it snakes outward in a sinewy line. Let’s Dance has shifted through the night in the light current and the chain has left a distinct pattern in the sand as it stretches towards the anchor. It would be idyllic to stay here for hours, just watching the serenity of the sea floor, but we must head out sometime, so we prepare to pull up the anchor and move on. I go into back into the pilothouse, put on my headset and am ready to guide Let’s Dance to the anchor as Bill directs from the bow, using the newly repaired windlass to pull it up. Look over his shoulder as the chain is slowly pulled from the ocean floor. One of the starfish -- directly in the chain’s path -- lifts slightly to allow the heavy chain to pass under him. Smart fellow!
The anchor safely up and secured, Captain Bill takes over the command of Let’s Dance in the pilothouse. Follow me upstairs to the fly bridge where I will serve as lookout for the shallow reefs that dot this area of the Bahamas. The fly bridge is open to the fresh breezes this morning and the blue canvas cover protects me from sun. Bill has plotted our course carefully, but there are still areas to be wary of, so we’re going to use visual piloting as well as our charts. To better my vantage point, I stand on the captain’s chair. Communicating with Bill through our handy headsets, I am able to direct him between the maze of small reefs that line our path.
This is where it gets fun. Imagine now that you are on the water, sliding along beside Let’s Dance. Perhaps you have on your dive mask, swimming goggles will work as well, whatever’s comfortable. It’s twenty feet down to the ocean surface from up here, but I might as well be on the glassy surface, too. Spotting a dark area ahead, I direct Bill 15 degrees to starboard and we glide slowly by the first of the reefs. It is small, maybe 30 yards across, almost circular, and filled with various corals. Sea fans, stag horn, brain and others, intermingled, some waving up at us, others solidly attached to the sea floor. They shelter a myriad of sea creatures between and under their branches.
If you look closely you can see that the rainbow is well represented here -- fish of almost every hue dart in and out of the coral corral. You’ve probably seen them before -- at aquariums or in person…little fish, big fish, needle fish, grunts, butterfly fish, red fish, blue fish…..all represented in healthy numbers. High speed predators are here with us, too. As the shadow of Let’s Dance skims over the scene below, a few sharks, maybe a barracuda even, dash out towards the docile reef fish, hungry for a little snack. Not to worry, though, you’re floating on top and they aren’t interested in you today.
This scene repeats itself many times this morning until we’ve finally cleared the shallows and I’ve come down from the fly bridge to be with Captain Bill in the pilothouse. You can come up now, too, and dry off. We’ll have lunch soon as we’re underway. Gazpacho, perhaps. Our destination is Spanish Wells in Eleuthera as we leave the Exumas in the rearview mirror. Goodbye, Exumas! See you next year.
Thanks for coming along on the boat today -- I had fun taking you on the little tour and mixing my metaphors -- enjoy the rest of your day, and remember, you’re always welcome aboard
Let’s Dance…..Carol and Bill
The anchor chain hangs off the bow, falling straight down into the calm water. As it reaches the bottom, it snakes outward in a sinewy line. Let’s Dance has shifted through the night in the light current and the chain has left a distinct pattern in the sand as it stretches towards the anchor. It would be idyllic to stay here for hours, just watching the serenity of the sea floor, but we must head out sometime, so we prepare to pull up the anchor and move on. I go into back into the pilothouse, put on my headset and am ready to guide Let’s Dance to the anchor as Bill directs from the bow, using the newly repaired windlass to pull it up. Look over his shoulder as the chain is slowly pulled from the ocean floor. One of the starfish -- directly in the chain’s path -- lifts slightly to allow the heavy chain to pass under him. Smart fellow!
The anchor safely up and secured, Captain Bill takes over the command of Let’s Dance in the pilothouse. Follow me upstairs to the fly bridge where I will serve as lookout for the shallow reefs that dot this area of the Bahamas. The fly bridge is open to the fresh breezes this morning and the blue canvas cover protects me from sun. Bill has plotted our course carefully, but there are still areas to be wary of, so we’re going to use visual piloting as well as our charts. To better my vantage point, I stand on the captain’s chair. Communicating with Bill through our handy headsets, I am able to direct him between the maze of small reefs that line our path.
This is where it gets fun. Imagine now that you are on the water, sliding along beside Let’s Dance. Perhaps you have on your dive mask, swimming goggles will work as well, whatever’s comfortable. It’s twenty feet down to the ocean surface from up here, but I might as well be on the glassy surface, too. Spotting a dark area ahead, I direct Bill 15 degrees to starboard and we glide slowly by the first of the reefs. It is small, maybe 30 yards across, almost circular, and filled with various corals. Sea fans, stag horn, brain and others, intermingled, some waving up at us, others solidly attached to the sea floor. They shelter a myriad of sea creatures between and under their branches.
If you look closely you can see that the rainbow is well represented here -- fish of almost every hue dart in and out of the coral corral. You’ve probably seen them before -- at aquariums or in person…little fish, big fish, needle fish, grunts, butterfly fish, red fish, blue fish…..all represented in healthy numbers. High speed predators are here with us, too. As the shadow of Let’s Dance skims over the scene below, a few sharks, maybe a barracuda even, dash out towards the docile reef fish, hungry for a little snack. Not to worry, though, you’re floating on top and they aren’t interested in you today.
This scene repeats itself many times this morning until we’ve finally cleared the shallows and I’ve come down from the fly bridge to be with Captain Bill in the pilothouse. You can come up now, too, and dry off. We’ll have lunch soon as we’re underway. Gazpacho, perhaps. Our destination is Spanish Wells in Eleuthera as we leave the Exumas in the rearview mirror. Goodbye, Exumas! See you next year.
Thanks for coming along on the boat today -- I had fun taking you on the little tour and mixing my metaphors -- enjoy the rest of your day, and remember, you’re always welcome aboard
Let’s Dance…..Carol and Bill
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Lorraine's Place
Greetings from the saloon of Let’s Dance. The famous pigs of Big Major’s Spot could not be bothered to swim out to meet us after our town excursion to Staniel Cay. In fact, only one of them even ventured up from his shady siesta to give us the once over, and he apparently didn’t want to get his hoofs wet. Glad I didn’t save any scones for him! All was not lost, however, for as we watched the sun setting from the fly bridge (our nightly ritual with cocktails and snacks in hand) we saw our second ‘green flash’. This is big in these parts, and neighboring boats tooted horns and blew conch shell salutes to mother nature. It was cool!
The guide book description of Staniel Cay would have you believe that there actually was a town, when in fact, a few scattered, colorful houses, a church, small government office and Batelco (Bahamas Telephone Company) office were it. At the little market we found, much to our delight, fresh grapes, apples and a few other treats. Then we checked out the yellow, blue and pink houses…all noted in the guides. At the yellow house, we met a wonderful woman whose specialty is coconut bread. “Treat it like a baby”, she crooned as she handed me a warm loaf from her kitchen table. We can highly recommend French toast made with coconut bread -- it is a taste treat straight from heaven!
Leaving Staniel, we inched north to Sampson’s Cay -- a polar opposite of Staniel and most of the other islands we’ve seen so far. It has a small, private resort on it, with a restaurant, store and marina that is said to be one of the safest in the Exumas in heavy weather. The buildings are made of stacked stone with pale green trim and gabled roofs. Snappily dressed staff, Jimmy Buffett music and pet sharks in the dinghy dock area complete the package that can be yours for $8,000 a week in season. We got it for the price of lunch.
Black Point Settlement on Great Guana Cay gets a lot of good press in the guide books as well. Lorraine’s Café, in particular, is written up as a must do experience. Here’s our take…….we dinghy in to the Government Dock and tie up with no problem. A short walk up the pier we find two guys just hanging out in front of the “Government Building”, a 20 foot square stucco structure with peeling paint and sagging shutters. Bill asks them if there is a place open for lunch (it is Sunday) and they reply that Lorraine will probably be cooking at her place after church. Aha! This is good, we think, but it’s already past noon, when is church over? They have no idea.
We walk in the direction they have indicated, and easily find Lorraine’s -- a couple from another boat and their dog are sitting under a tree in front, busy at their computers. A quick glance inside reveals that the place is empty, however, so we wander further down the road. Blue trash bins line the road at about 50 yard intervals, and all are full or close to full, and still garbage lies along the road and in the yards of the small homes that line it. What a shame. There are few people out -- still at church, we guess, so we wander back to Lorraine’s. This time we discover that there is a back room where other boaters are congregated using their computers. One has a key to the cooler out front that he offers to unlock if we’d like something cool to drink. Lorraine left it with him. I have a water and peruse the overstuffed shelves of the lending library that makes up one side of the tiny restaurant. Bill finds a magazine and we settle down to wait for the place to open.
Finally, Lorraine herself comes in, dressed to the nines in her Sunday best, to tell those of us waiting (about 10 now) that she will be back in a bit after she changes clothes. It’s now about 2 pm and hunger is setting in for real. Lorraine leaves and the clock continues ticking. One couple finally gives up, saying they are off to find a restaurant that is actually open. Where’s the adventure in that? We wait, meet a nice couple from Arizona, check email, wait, get a beer, wait. At last, Lorraine returns in jeans and a t-shirt, ready to cook up her much touted grilled snapper sandwich. We wait. She serves us, at last, after three in the afternoon, what Captain Bill describes as an ‘adequate’ meal. I would not be that generous.
We did meet some nice people, however, who invited us to their sailboat for drinks that evening. The next morning we made new friends as we motored back north to a place called Shroud Cay -- a southbound Nordhavn hailed us and we traded tales for a bit. Further north, then, back to Ship Channel Cay to prepare for our next crossing. This one only 40 miles -- the Exumas to Eleuthra. That story next. We leave you now for a quick trip in Love Me Tender into Spanish Wells where we hope to find gasoline for the dinghy, a hose nozzle for the outside shower and maybe some groceries. All in a day’s work for this crew --
Let’s Dance -- Carol and Bill
The guide book description of Staniel Cay would have you believe that there actually was a town, when in fact, a few scattered, colorful houses, a church, small government office and Batelco (Bahamas Telephone Company) office were it. At the little market we found, much to our delight, fresh grapes, apples and a few other treats. Then we checked out the yellow, blue and pink houses…all noted in the guides. At the yellow house, we met a wonderful woman whose specialty is coconut bread. “Treat it like a baby”, she crooned as she handed me a warm loaf from her kitchen table. We can highly recommend French toast made with coconut bread -- it is a taste treat straight from heaven!
Leaving Staniel, we inched north to Sampson’s Cay -- a polar opposite of Staniel and most of the other islands we’ve seen so far. It has a small, private resort on it, with a restaurant, store and marina that is said to be one of the safest in the Exumas in heavy weather. The buildings are made of stacked stone with pale green trim and gabled roofs. Snappily dressed staff, Jimmy Buffett music and pet sharks in the dinghy dock area complete the package that can be yours for $8,000 a week in season. We got it for the price of lunch.
Black Point Settlement on Great Guana Cay gets a lot of good press in the guide books as well. Lorraine’s Café, in particular, is written up as a must do experience. Here’s our take…….we dinghy in to the Government Dock and tie up with no problem. A short walk up the pier we find two guys just hanging out in front of the “Government Building”, a 20 foot square stucco structure with peeling paint and sagging shutters. Bill asks them if there is a place open for lunch (it is Sunday) and they reply that Lorraine will probably be cooking at her place after church. Aha! This is good, we think, but it’s already past noon, when is church over? They have no idea.
We walk in the direction they have indicated, and easily find Lorraine’s -- a couple from another boat and their dog are sitting under a tree in front, busy at their computers. A quick glance inside reveals that the place is empty, however, so we wander further down the road. Blue trash bins line the road at about 50 yard intervals, and all are full or close to full, and still garbage lies along the road and in the yards of the small homes that line it. What a shame. There are few people out -- still at church, we guess, so we wander back to Lorraine’s. This time we discover that there is a back room where other boaters are congregated using their computers. One has a key to the cooler out front that he offers to unlock if we’d like something cool to drink. Lorraine left it with him. I have a water and peruse the overstuffed shelves of the lending library that makes up one side of the tiny restaurant. Bill finds a magazine and we settle down to wait for the place to open.
Finally, Lorraine herself comes in, dressed to the nines in her Sunday best, to tell those of us waiting (about 10 now) that she will be back in a bit after she changes clothes. It’s now about 2 pm and hunger is setting in for real. Lorraine leaves and the clock continues ticking. One couple finally gives up, saying they are off to find a restaurant that is actually open. Where’s the adventure in that? We wait, meet a nice couple from Arizona, check email, wait, get a beer, wait. At last, Lorraine returns in jeans and a t-shirt, ready to cook up her much touted grilled snapper sandwich. We wait. She serves us, at last, after three in the afternoon, what Captain Bill describes as an ‘adequate’ meal. I would not be that generous.
We did meet some nice people, however, who invited us to their sailboat for drinks that evening. The next morning we made new friends as we motored back north to a place called Shroud Cay -- a southbound Nordhavn hailed us and we traded tales for a bit. Further north, then, back to Ship Channel Cay to prepare for our next crossing. This one only 40 miles -- the Exumas to Eleuthra. That story next. We leave you now for a quick trip in Love Me Tender into Spanish Wells where we hope to find gasoline for the dinghy, a hose nozzle for the outside shower and maybe some groceries. All in a day’s work for this crew --
Let’s Dance -- Carol and Bill
Thursday, February 17, 2011
It Was Inevitable !
Yes, all you vicarious thrill seekers, it finally happened. We ran aground. And we did it up right! We really dug into a shallow, sandy spot off the northern end of Bell Island in the Exumas. For the prior two days we had been anchored in another area of the Exuma Land and Sea Park (more on that later) but decided to move south for a different perspective. So, after about two hours underway, in strong winds and cloudy skies, Let’s Dance missed a step and Bam! All of a sudden we’re not moving and the engine is still pumping out rpms. Didn’t take us too long to figure that we weren’t going to get out of this easily. Luckily for us, we were still within the Park, and where there is a Park, there are Park Rangers.
A few hours later, we are approached by a 24 foot, open cockpit boat with twin 150 outboard motors. Rangers to the rescue! We hope! Now it’s raining and the winds are picking up. This is not helping the situation, but all are enthusiastic, if a bit daunted. Can 300 horsepower dislodge 85,000 pounds of sand encrusted trawler? Captain Bill throws a line to the rangers which they cleat to their stern. The line goes taut -- they rev, we rev, the line snaps loose. So much for the first try! And the second, and the third. Each time, as the park boat guns their engines, they lurch at crazy angles -- and we do nothing. Finally, after about 10 attempts, they agree to give it one more go, against their better judgment, I think. It works (yeah!) and at last, after 3 hours, we are freed from the sand. Lesson Learned: Go Slow!
There have been lighter moments, too. Before the park adventures, we over-nighted in several beautiful spots -- Highbourne Cay, for example. From there it’s an easy ride in Love Me Tender to Allen’s Cay, home of the endangered Exuma iguana. These scaly creatures hang out on a tiny bit of beach, alert and aligned in rows, waiting for the next tourist to stop by. You’re not supposed to feed them but you can tell by their aggressive posturing that the rules are often broken. I picked up a small bit of white trash on the beach and, thinking I had something for them to eat, several rushed forward towards me. Yikes! Quickly back into the dinghy --- let’s move on.
Also at Highbourne, we discovered that a small school of sharks (remorrah, we think) lived under our shadow. Bill threw out an apple core, and they swarmed after it, twisting and fighting to be first in line, only to discover that they weren’t into fruit. This is tempting……what would they prefer? Hmmm….I ‘m not much of a cook, but with the help of my new, spiffy bread maker, I had made scones a few days before. Actually, they turned out to be small boulders that tasted exactly like flour and water. Oh, well. I broke one in half and threw it overboard to see if the sharks would chase it and, guess what? They loved it! Not only did the boys fight over the pastry, they devoured it. Six sharks fighting over my home cooking -- maybe they should go to culinary school!
Our next learning experience came the following morning as we began raising the anchor. I’m at my usual station in the pilothouse, Bill’s at the bow, when Crunch! Sounds of metal on metal and then nothing. We’re going nowhere today. Bill gets down and dirty in the anchor locker where he discovers that the motor for the windlass has come unbolted and fallen, taking out the electrical connection along the way. Oh boy, this is just great. What do we know about this? After assessing the situation and collecting a large amount of grease, oil and mud on himself and his clothes, Bill calls James Knight in Florida. James is the Nordhavn mechanical guru and he is able to talk Bill through the needed repairs. Thirteen phone calls and 24 hours later, we are up and running. Lesson Learned: Pre-paid cell phone is a must. (We were fortunate that this happened while we were in a covered area.)
Other adventures, of a more benign nature, include snorkeling at the Sea Aquarium off O’Brien’s Cay. Captain Bill donned his wetsuit, fins et al and jumped right into a veritable battalion of Sgt. Major fish. He reported that there were thousands of them, all curious and all trying for a closer look. Turning in any direction he found hundreds staring back at him from only a few inches away. That would have freaked me out! Today we are anchored off an island with the curious name of Big Major’s Spot. Its claim to fame is the beach where a pair of pigs (yes, pigs) will swim out to your dinghy for snacks. We’re headed into lunch at the Staniel Cay Club first, hoping to send this blog, before checking out the pigs. Too bad I ran out of scones!
Until next time……
Let’s Dance -- Carol & Bill
A few hours later, we are approached by a 24 foot, open cockpit boat with twin 150 outboard motors. Rangers to the rescue! We hope! Now it’s raining and the winds are picking up. This is not helping the situation, but all are enthusiastic, if a bit daunted. Can 300 horsepower dislodge 85,000 pounds of sand encrusted trawler? Captain Bill throws a line to the rangers which they cleat to their stern. The line goes taut -- they rev, we rev, the line snaps loose. So much for the first try! And the second, and the third. Each time, as the park boat guns their engines, they lurch at crazy angles -- and we do nothing. Finally, after about 10 attempts, they agree to give it one more go, against their better judgment, I think. It works (yeah!) and at last, after 3 hours, we are freed from the sand. Lesson Learned: Go Slow!
There have been lighter moments, too. Before the park adventures, we over-nighted in several beautiful spots -- Highbourne Cay, for example. From there it’s an easy ride in Love Me Tender to Allen’s Cay, home of the endangered Exuma iguana. These scaly creatures hang out on a tiny bit of beach, alert and aligned in rows, waiting for the next tourist to stop by. You’re not supposed to feed them but you can tell by their aggressive posturing that the rules are often broken. I picked up a small bit of white trash on the beach and, thinking I had something for them to eat, several rushed forward towards me. Yikes! Quickly back into the dinghy --- let’s move on.
Also at Highbourne, we discovered that a small school of sharks (remorrah, we think) lived under our shadow. Bill threw out an apple core, and they swarmed after it, twisting and fighting to be first in line, only to discover that they weren’t into fruit. This is tempting……what would they prefer? Hmmm….I ‘m not much of a cook, but with the help of my new, spiffy bread maker, I had made scones a few days before. Actually, they turned out to be small boulders that tasted exactly like flour and water. Oh, well. I broke one in half and threw it overboard to see if the sharks would chase it and, guess what? They loved it! Not only did the boys fight over the pastry, they devoured it. Six sharks fighting over my home cooking -- maybe they should go to culinary school!
Our next learning experience came the following morning as we began raising the anchor. I’m at my usual station in the pilothouse, Bill’s at the bow, when Crunch! Sounds of metal on metal and then nothing. We’re going nowhere today. Bill gets down and dirty in the anchor locker where he discovers that the motor for the windlass has come unbolted and fallen, taking out the electrical connection along the way. Oh boy, this is just great. What do we know about this? After assessing the situation and collecting a large amount of grease, oil and mud on himself and his clothes, Bill calls James Knight in Florida. James is the Nordhavn mechanical guru and he is able to talk Bill through the needed repairs. Thirteen phone calls and 24 hours later, we are up and running. Lesson Learned: Pre-paid cell phone is a must. (We were fortunate that this happened while we were in a covered area.)
Other adventures, of a more benign nature, include snorkeling at the Sea Aquarium off O’Brien’s Cay. Captain Bill donned his wetsuit, fins et al and jumped right into a veritable battalion of Sgt. Major fish. He reported that there were thousands of them, all curious and all trying for a closer look. Turning in any direction he found hundreds staring back at him from only a few inches away. That would have freaked me out! Today we are anchored off an island with the curious name of Big Major’s Spot. Its claim to fame is the beach where a pair of pigs (yes, pigs) will swim out to your dinghy for snacks. We’re headed into lunch at the Staniel Cay Club first, hoping to send this blog, before checking out the pigs. Too bad I ran out of scones!
Until next time……
Let’s Dance -- Carol & Bill
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