April 21, 2015 -- Man 0' War Cay--What? No Alcohol????, Boatbuilding and Sailmaking Happens Here

Ootching our way into the marina at Man o'War was tight, but we finally found a decent mooring.  Only decent, because I watched the boat behind us come so very close to us when the wind picked up.  It was a little nerve wracking.  Then a catamaran came in not long after, speeding along very confidently, and they hooked in behind us. 

I would only recommend staying on the inside if you had a smaller boat than 46 feet and if the winds made it impossible to anchor outside.

When we got settled, an older man motored out in a small boat and asked us to pay him for the mooring.  He was David Albury, of the legendary Albury family that settled in these parts a long time ago.  He managed the moorings.  We had gotten down to very little cash, so we had to finagle a deal to take $15 for the night instead of the normal $20.

Lesson here:  Always bring more cash than you think you need to the Bahamas.  Many places still don't take credit cards and if they do, they request a purchase of at least $20 or $50.  It can cause some headaches.  The "bank" only comes once a week on a regular weekday from 10am to 2pm.  Gary was in line at 9:45am and being the gentleman he is, when a few of the town's ladies showed up behind him, he offered to let them go ahead of him, but they politely declined and let him go first.

A new Albury boat being built in the boat shed

Man o' War Cay is best known for their boatbuilding and sailmaking expertise, as we evidenced by a shore excursion later that day.  The noise and smell of sanding came from one building while another used fiberglass molds to make new boats.  The noise went on all day, stopping around 4 or so in the afternoon, when a lot of workers left their jobs and took the ferry back to their homes on other islands. 

Because of the work ethic there and a no-alcohol policy, I wasn't sure what type of island this would turn out to be.  The accents were an interesting mix of Boston, Canadian, and further up the North Atlantic.

Joe Albury's newest project:  a hand-built
sailing dinghy

We needed some repairs done to our genoa, so we took it down and hauled it over to Jay, the island sail repair dude.  An American, he said he will never go back to the States.  He lives in a beautiful, large home overlooking the inner harbor with his daughter (and maybe a wife, though the guys never saw her).  We had to stay for as long as it would take him to finish the sail and a charter company had the slot before us, so we knew we'd be in the area for at least a few days.

We met the couple, Day and Cray, on the catamaran behind us, and Rich, who was on a Tayana in front of us in the mooring field.  All very nice people, and we ended up having lunch with Day and Cray at the newly opened Hibiscus Cafe.  They are rusty, using a menu from another restaurant down the street, and a little overpriced, but we had a good time.

While walking around town, we noticed a flyer for a school fundraiser; they would be serving lunch the next day and all monies would be going to a field trip fund for the students (whom we later found out numbered 10 total).  We sauntered up to the school a little later than the scheduled time to find not much left, but we walked away with some interesting dishes:  spaghetti with chicken wings, hot dogs and rice, and for me, cornbread salad and a Rice Krispies treat bar.  I had also picked up half a papaya at the grocery store, so we had quite the eclectic feast at a picnic table by a playground.

We decided after a nervous night on the mooring to move to the outside and anchor.  We saw all kinds of "stuff" in the water as we anchored; Elliott was curious enough to don snorkel gear and check things out.  He found barrels (who knows what they had held, but they were cracked open now), and a large satellite dish, which our anchor snugged up to nicely. 

The next day, as we dinghied toward the cut into the harbor, we noticed an Albury boat with two guys aboard paddling towards shore.  We went over to them and asked if they needed help; they were certainly glad to have it their engine was messed up and the one oar was okay, but the other was just a mop handle.

We tied up and pulled them in, without getting their names, but we got many thanks.  

Very nice guys.  Funny thing was, over the next 24 hours, we saw the older guy (maybe 30 years in age or so) about six times.  We'd laugh and wave every time.

On the same pole that we saw the flyer for the field trip fundraiser, we saw a notice that the school was having a film showing that Thursday.  Five bucks got you into the show with popcorn.  Elliott decided to go as he'd never seen the movie, "Cool Runnings."  He got to meet some of the local kids and he brought fresh coconut to share.

Island living means that everyone knows each other and they all look out for each other.  We found this out the hard way.  I had gone to the marina to check out their book swap; I traded some of my books for new ones.  But I had about six books and they were heavy and we had planned on walking down island for a look-see at some of the private residences.  Gary came up with the plan to put the books under a milk crate he saw on one of the docks.  I wasn't keen on it because I assumed the crate belonged to someone, but he went ahead.  Even before he had gotten done with putting the books under the crate, I could hear a local behind me telling on Gary.  "That guy just went and turned over your crate, Joe." 

In a few seconds, Joe Albury, proprietor of a dock front store, walked down the dock to check things out.  Gary told him what he was doing and the guy said okay, but I could tell he wasn't happy about it.  He's probably thinking that he'll be much better off when the durn tourists go home.  I was uncomfortable with it, so I asked Gary to retrieve the books.  Some other folks we knew on the boat New Passage offered to take the stack of books to our boat for us when they left.  I was grateful.  I wouldn't want anyone messing with my stuff either.

We did some grocery shopping to top up on a few things and went back to the boat to wait for the phone call from the sail repair guy.

That call came later the next day.  In the meantime, we noticed that when we thought we were buying one can of Arizona tea that we'd been charged for a whole case to the tune of $26.00.  We got that refund fast!

Almost all the rest of our money went to pay for the sail repair, but so far, it seems money well spent.  (We've noticed a difference when we tack that the sail no longer gets hung up on the spreader where it had been wearing thin and thready.)

April 19, 2015 -- Part II, Elliott Hogs the Glory, No Name to Crab Cay, Abacos, Bahamas

Before we got underway again to escape any more potential porcine pokes, Elliott decided that he wanted to singlehand all the way back to the especially fragrant Crab Cay where we would anchor for an evening or so before heading over to Man O' War Cay.  That means he had to lift anchor, hoist the sail, trim the sail, plot the course, man the helm, and then re-anchor when we got to Crab Cay.

Not a good shot; he was moving too fast
for me to catch him in action!

The best part of this sail was watching Elliott deal with every challenge that came his way with no panicking, with thorough thinking through of the problem and how to handle it, and as a result for us, his parents, we realized just how smart he really is and how much he has picked up from our time on the boat.  I've been sailing with Gary for a bzillion years and had not even picked up any where near the information that Elliott had to plow through to make this single-hand sail a success!

Doing his best "Hans and Franz" (from SNL) imitation

April 19, 2015 -- Here Piggy, Piggy! No Name Cay, Abaco, Bahamas

First of all, I want to mention that if someone or some entity can name an island No Name  Cay, then why didn't they just go ahead and give it a substantial real name?  I don't get it.

Anyway, while we were visiting New Plymouth (that's the town at Green Turtle Cay which is appropriate considering the Loyalist background), we came upon a sign at the government offices notifying folks that the pigs on No Name Cay would love for you to share in your foodstuffs and water for their care.  The Pig Whisperer, also known as a guy named Craig, usually went out on the weekends to take them bread, fruits, cookies, etc.  He put together a flier to ask that residents and tourists feel free to make donations to the food fund or take food themselves to the island.  He mentioned that there were boxes for food and a tub and buckets for fresh water.

I thought it would be a nice thing to do for the pigs.  We had heard about another island in the Exumas, called Staniel Cay, where the wild pigs were quite the tourist draw.

So we left Green Turtle and sailed over to No Name.  When we arrived, we noticed a small motorboat near shore.  We anchored and dinghied over; we had bananas and biscuits and apples with us.

The guide of the boat had taken food up to the stores on land and tootled his horn when he got back on the boat.  The horn must have woken up the mama pigs from their afternoon slumber; one came running down the beach from the brush and shortly thereafter, another came along.  Fairly big sows they were; one brown and one with stripes.  A woman from the other boat, around my age, got in the water to throw food to the pigs, but she was smart; as they started swimming toward her, she rightly got back on her boat.

That boat left the beach and the pigs saw us with their little steely eyes; they started swimming over.  We threw some biscuits near to shore to distract them because Gary wanted to take the bag of stuff to the shore side where the babies (we heard there were babies!) might get a nibble.

The striped mama got a little overzealous and attempted to clamber into the dinghy, an action that I, as the acting safety officer, was not happy about.   (And it scared me.  These were not small cute pink piggies.  These were pigs that could make a nice meal out of a person.  Did you ever see that episode of "Deadwood" where the dead bodies were thrown into the pig sty for proper gustatory disposal?  Forget the cute pinkness of the pig from Charlotte's Web.  Seriously.)

Herding Pigs?

Gary hopped out of the boat and walked to shore, under the watchful eyes of the mama pigs.  I really did not want him to get out and told him so.  Don't do it, don't do it, don't do it.  He was carrying the bag of food and the pigs really wanted the food, no matter what.  So Gary put the bag behind his back and walked slowly backwards with the pigs following.  I wanted to close my eyes and just wait for the screams and squeals.  Elliott followed from a distance.

Gary got to the food store area and threw some of what we had brought into the containers, and then I saw him put the bag high up in a tree.  (He later told me that he wanted to keep the pigs from bothering him and figured if the food was not around, they'd calm down.  Yeah, right.)  Well, one of the mama pigs was not having anything to do with that idea and she came up to Gary and nipped him on the butt.  I could hear him yell and he smacked her in the schnozz, dumped the food, and then slowly made his way back out of the woods, onto the sand, into the water, and, seemingly weeks later, into the dinghy, while the pigs watched his every step from the shelter of the shady pines.

That's when I found out about the bite, so we raced back to the boat to clean the wound and put antiseptic on it right away. 

While we were playing doctor on board, another guided boat came along, and that guide had a bigger bag of what seemed like grain that he poured out on the sand.  At this point, we saw two babies racing down the beach toward the mamas.  They were adorable; one was brown and one was striped.  A few minutes later, another mama trundled out of the woods and SHE had three piglets with her, two brown and one striped.  We didn't see any males, but it was obviously a fecund feral family.  As we sailed away from that interesting adventure, we saw the whole lot of them happily nibbling away on the beach.  That'll do, pig; that'll do.

April 18, 2015 -- My Boy Turns 16!!! Finding Treasure, Treasure Cay, Abacos, Bahamas

Just like the songs say, every cloud has a silver lining, every rose has its thorn, every case of diarrhea has its . . . oh, never mind.  I think you get my gist. 

After uncurling myself and rejoining the functioning world, I found that we were coming into a marina on Treasure Cay.  Here we would relax and maybe meet up with our friends Ken and Len (late of Goombay Smash at  Miss Emily's fame).  We did both.  Len was actually docked just a little ways from us on the same pier.   One of the most beautiful sailboats I've ever seen was docked right across from us; we later found out from its crew that it was a Cherubini.  Just a gorgeous boat and this guy was always working on it to make sure it stayed kept up and beautiful.

The bar at this marina is called the Tipsy Seagull.  We visited there to check out the place and see the pool.  We had drinks with Ken and Len.  Elliott and I played the ring game and I actually made the point after just three tries; Elliott got it twice after me.

We had a crowd cheering us on; I think that helped and the Goombay Smash could have played a small role, too.  (This Goombay Smash was okay, but nowhere near as good as those on Green Turtle Cay.)

It was a nice enough marina; water, fuel if we needed it, showers, laundry nearby if you needed it, a grocery store about a block away.  We were hot and sweaty, so the pool beckoned.  Elliott's friends from Great Harbour Cay Marina were there, so I got to meet them formally.  One of the guys in the group reminds me so much of folksinger Pierce Pettis; really strong resemblance.

All that was good, but it wasn't until the next full day that we found the real treasure of Treasure Cay--the beach!

Now, you would think that I would be getting sick of beaches, having seen so many on this trip.  Like chickens, we crossed the road to get to the other side of the island and there it was, Crossing Bay lapping gently at the shores of an incredible sight for sore eyes.  The colors were indescribable, the gentle water clear and temperate, and the sand like silk.  Like a broad horseshoe in shape, the land sloped down to the water, with beach chairs for lounging and palapas set up for shade.  I wanted to stay here forever.

We spent a great afternoon enjoying the water and yes, I did get in and swim.  It was irresistible and it met all my criteria.  I felt safe because you could see far out to where the underwater grasses began.  

Gary originally wanted to spend just one night, but I insisted on two; smart me.  That gave us time to get a few groceries, too, before we left to anchor out before heading east to Guana Cay, where the famous bar called Nipper's beckoned. 

Now, you might also think we're quite the lushes, but that is so off base.  We are still in the extreme lightweight category of drinking and as you can tell, we mostly drink fruity rum beverages.  This is not something we'll continue to do when we get back to the States.

A friend of ours told us that Nipper's is really like Red Eyes Dock Bar on the Eastern Shore of Maryland, which sure can be a mess on the weekends.  Red Eyes has bikini contests and lots of drinking and retching into bushes.  So, we don't go during those hours; we'd been to Red Eyes quite a bit, especially during our boat's convalescence at the marina there after being struck by lightning, and we enjoyed the food and the camaraderie of our boat friends (whom we still stay in touch with).

So we did the same thing with Nipper's; we went early.  The road to Nipper's is off the main road and has been cleared a bit, but remains jungle-y and cool at the same time.  The only other people there were a couple with young children.  Nipper's is like a big tree house on the beach cliff; they also have a pool that customers can use.  It is filled with seawater and we jumped right in while waiting for our lunch.

The beach below Nipper's on Guana Cay

After we ate, we walked down the steep set of stairs to get a better look at the beach.  Here again, the surprise of beauty floored us.  There is no blue to describe the blue of the sky, nor the streaks of blue in the water, near and far.  The waves were up and the coral reef near, so the explosions of water over rock were crisp and loud and raging and never ending. 

I took many photos and have one of Gary just before a large wave washed over rocks and gave him a bit of a dousing.  I am sorry (not really) to say that I was laughing while I snapped the shots.

The bar was filling as we left; one woman came in and with her best Valley-Girl accent, lifted her arms and exclaimed, "I LOVE this bar!"  We were happy to be going the other way.

We had anchored out at Guana Cay and we had to pass another bar on the way to the dinghy.  We did not imbibe, but Elliott and I played some more of the ring game.  The balance on this one was off a bit and I did not do well, but Elliott kicked some butt. 

Another beautiful sunset, and then we were off again, back to Green Turtle Cay.  This was Elliott's wish as it is his birthday today.  My youngest is 16 years old!!!!  I made him a birthday brownie so that we could sing to him terribly as he entered his Sweet 16 day.

We anchored at Green Turtle, hopped into the dinghy and went ashore.  At the dock, we saw the lobster man (he also makes conch salad--like a ceviche).  He and some friends were chatting and one of the friends chatted us up and then, they made the fatal mistake.  They had us try a bite of the lobster salad; oh my!!!  I'm not a big lobster fan but what this guy does to lobster is just short of amazing.  We said we had errands to run and that we would be sure to stop by on our way back out of town.

One errand had to do with getting another Goombay Smash at Miss Emily's Blue Bee Bar.  Gary needed a drink that day; when we were making our way in to the anchorage at Green Turtle, we had some trouble with our genoa and we encountered an especially low tide and couldn't make it any further than an outer lay.  While there at the bar this time, we found out that Miss Emily had died in 1997 and that her daughter Violet was now the proprietor.  Very nice woman who is outgoing and very smiley.

If only the server at the restaurant where we went for Elliott's birthday were just a tad more happy.  We did have a great lunch at McIntosh Bakery and Restaurant (Elliott had a grilled lobster).  Everything is always good there, and I'm always surprised that the place is not packed, though they do seem to have a steady stream of folks stopping by.  No bread was available, unfortunately, so we said we'd come back in the morning to get a loaf.  It was as we were attempting to settle our bill that our server mentioned that the phone lines were down so we could not use our credit card.  We might have had about ten dollars on us.

We didn't load up with cash like we should have and now we were stuck.  So, we had to ask her to trust us and let us finish paying for the meal, too, the next morning.  Frustrating that she didn't mention it to us BEFORE we ordered.

We had a little time, so we walked around town some more; we found a sculpture garden paying homage to the original Loyalists who had settled the town.  A large statue in the middle was flanked by busts of notable townfolks on a design like the British flag.  

This guy and the one following were much
respected, but gave me the heebie jeegies;
Day of the Dead zombies!

In my ignorance, I figured "Bahamians" had settled here long ago and that the white folks came later.  Lucayan Indians were on the land first and they were enslaved and deciminated as a race by the Spanish explorers who never even settled here permanently.  Those Lucayans not killed by harsh living conditions of slavery and disease were shipped elsewhere as slaves to work on other plantations.  The Spanish just came here out of greed for gold and human expense was of no consideration.

Then there was an English wave sparked by trade and Eleuthera became a haven for Puritans leaving England in the late 1600s.   Privateers, buccanneers, and pirates provided trade of other shorts in the Bahamas.  At one point, there were a thousand pirates in Nassau.

Finally, the British sent a governor to take control and the success of that effort brought on English Parliamentary rule.  Later in that century, the Loyalists emigrated from England to populate many of these islands, thus the statuary garden in their honor.  The Bahamas is now an independent commonwealth who thinks Queen Elizabeth is the bomb!

Lobsta'!!!

After our history lesson, we stopped back by the lobster shack and ordered the lobster salad.  A couple of guys were sitting around shooting the breeze, arguing about vitamins and whether it was a good idea to take them.  The discussion shifted into a bit of an argument with raised voices and heated words, but nothing more, thankfully.  Another sailing couple came up to get some lobster, so after Elliott signed the lobster man's cart with "Goldens on s/v Nalani," we chatted briefly with the couple on s/v Harmony and went back to our boat. 

April 15, 2015 -- Green Turtle Cay, No Conch, and How About that Water Spout?, Abaco, Bahamas

The aforementioned Wrecking Tree was not open, so we, hungry trio that we were, continued on down the skinny streets hoping to pick up the aroma of a place that served some kind of food.  Just a block away, we found McIntosh Cafe and Bakery.  Bread was also on my list of must-haves from here; Bahamian bread is so good.  And I was about to win a mini jackpot!

We noticed the "Specials" board just outside and my mouth started drooling when I came upon Chicken Curry.  We even were able to get sweet tea!  The guys got lobster wraps with mango and were very happy with their choices.  As we were settling the bill, I asked for the loaf of bread and was told it was coconut bread!  Bonus!

 

We noticed the weather getting iffy, of course, it's Green Turtle Cay (remember what I mentioned about Gary and his friends getting stuck here during a bad bit of weather?).  It seemed to follow us after all those intervening years.  Elliott high-tailed it to the boat via dinghy to close hatches and ports and bring in anything that might take flight if the wind picks up.

I didn't mind the rain, but high winds scare me; we were spared that drama, thankfully.

We decided that we wanted to go back to Crab Cay (just 20 minutes away) to get some more of that aromatherapy over night.  The weather seemed to be clearing and Gary called a Crew Cruise, where the crew (Elliott and me) would take care of everything from here to there.  That meant bringing up the anchor, setting the sail, steering, sail adjustments as necessary, and then anchoring again in the new spot.

While Gary was down below, Elliott and I just picked up and got on the move.  It was easy.  As we were figuring out which direction the wind was coming from, Elliott shared his secret:  He just turns his head until both ears feel fuzzy.  It worked!   I felt comfortable at the helm and Elliott was gentle in correcting if we needed to adjust our route; he would tell me how many degrees port or starboard to steer. 

The clouds had been hovering mainly away from us over Great Abaco, but I noticed that it seemed they had turned.  We toodled along, figuring we had plenty of time to get into our snug place before rain started again.  But, it was then as I was scanning the horizon that I noticed a tornado or water spout over the island across the water.  I had never seen one before and I wish I could explain the feeling my body had at that moment.   Ever feel like peeing your pants and losing your ability to stand at the same time?  That's kind of what it felt like.  And my chest hurt like hell.  Maybe I had forgotten to breathe.

We couldn't make out whether it was traveling down the island or coming our way, though Gary thought it could pose a big problem for us if it did meet us.  We quickly jibed and started a return trip to the Green Turtle area.  THEN, Gary was not so sure that was a good idea, so we turned again (thank goodness Nalani can turn on a dime) and we headed back the way we'd originally been heading.  THEN, we turned again because Gary saw a small anchorage closer than Green Turtle that we could duck into to wait out the storm.

The tornado dissipated in due time and never came closer; I still felt like I was going to be sick.  We stayed in place for a while and then picked up anchor again and headed to Crab Cay for the night.

Very nervous and shaken by then, just because of the preceding events, I asked the Captain to take over for the anchoring portion of the evening's festivities.  He looked at me with grey eyes and announced, "I am not available."  It was the Crew Cruise; we started and had to finish.

Something happened that I can't quite explain, but I fell apart crying and didn't handle it well, though with Elliott's good instructions, I did motor us into the anchorage, find a spot, and get us set tight for the night.

Then I went down below and curled up into a ball for about 24 hours.  

April 12, 2015 -- Green Turtle Cay, Abaco, Bahamas

Twenty-six years ago, Gary and some of his friends from college were stuck here when a norther came through, wrecking their plans of sun and surf with rain and wind and more wind.  Many of the days were spent wandering around town, visiting bars, and strat)egizing whether to move the boats or just wait out the storms.

Yesterday, we visited Miss Emily's Blue Bee Bar to have an honorary Goombay Smash for the memory of that visit and Gary's friends who were on that trip.  This guy, Ken, said he's referred dozens of cases to our company, IMIS, over the years.  How freaking small is the world, eh?  Ken asked me to take a picture of him and Gary together because he thought his business associates would get a kick out of it.

Ken kept saying how great it was that we are doing this trip with Elliott; that he hopes Elliott knows what a wonderful experience this is for him.  (I think Elliott knows.)

We had a blast at Miss Emily's with those two; the dad, Len, is 84 years old, and still boating, though not single-handing a sailboat like back in the day.  He is on a big trawler right now.  He has had an interesting life, for sure.  He used to fly planes in and out of Bimini, taking passengers on sight-seeing tours or back to the mainland.  His son lived there with him and would sell polished conch shells and shellacked starfish to tourists just coming in off the planes or ferries.  He tells of how he always had money in his pocket.  He's met Sting, Peter Tosh, and Bob Marley, Bob when he had to flee Jamaica.  Said he used to play pool with Ziggy Marley.  What a life.

So, Gary and I finished our Goombay Smash, which the Blue Bee Bar is famous for and then Ken bought us another round.  Now, Gary and are I lightweights in the drinking game, and one Smash was doing a pretty good job upside our heads, so two was quite amazing.  We weren't falling down drunk, but any anxiety I may have ever felt in my life melted away. 

Perfectly-Named Boat

And I actually drank about a fourth of Gary's second drink because it was just sitting there.  It was a good time and when Len and Ken decided to go to the Wrecking Tree for a meal, we thought we might go, then we thought we might go to Sundowners (another bar), but decided to go back to the boat instead.  Elliott fixed up a nice supper, which I slightly remember eating, and then I passed out for about five hours in the cockpit.  I was awakened by loud music coming from shore.

Sundowners, another local bar, was having some party (I later found out it was a wedding party), with lights and music and dancing!  I kept thinking about how those folks are going to feel in the morning once the church bells start ringing.

The bells have rung and gone and we are getting ready to head back to shore in the hopes that The Wrecking Tree is open on a Sunday so that Gary can try their much-recommended Cracked Conch.

April 11, 2015 -- Crab Cay, Abaco, Bahamas

We moved from Manjack Cay to Crab Cay to get out of lumpy water in the anchorage.  It was a great move.  Even though there were quite a few other boats there, we received a very unexpected gift.

Gary had turned in early after doing some reading.  Around 10:30 in the evening, I went topsides and told Elliott to come up and look at the stars.  

As the breeze wafted over the breeze from the nearby island of Crab, we were surrounded by the intoxicating aroma that we had noticed on our walk from one side of Manjack Cay to the other.  A heady mix of magnolia and honeysuckle, we believe it to be the blooming sea grapes that are such a large part of the flora on the islands.  

Taking big gulps of it, we wanted it to be absorbed into every cell.  We brought out articulated chairs to sit on the bow and stare up at the stars.  I've never seen such a sky; the bright twinkling orbs, millions and millions of them, made us feel very small but very special at the same time.  A beautiful sensory overload.

My son and I talked about lots of things, including the vastness of space and asking questions such as, what if planets had life on them in other stages of evolution?  And I saw a shooting star.  It was a wonderful bit of time with my boy.

April 10, 2015 -- Manjack Cay, Abacos, Bahamas

Since I last wrote, Angie has departed for the U.S.  She had a friend come in to help with the crossing.  If you are interested in sailing lessons this summer, let me know and I'll hook you up with her.  She's out of Deale, Maryland, and would be a great asset to your sailing learning curve.

The day before we left Marsh Harbor ourselves, I noticed a nice-looking blue-hulled boat coming into the harbor.  I squinted to see it more clearly and said that it looks a lot like OUR boat; HEY, it could have been our boat--it was a rare sighting of another Moody 46!   They sailed right by us without any sign of recognition and went further up in the anchorage, but doubled back when it seemed too tight.  Again, they sailed right by us, close enough that Gary remarked to them, "Ahoy!  Fine looking vessel you have there!"  After a few seconds, you could see the eyes of the Captain widen as he realized he was moving by another Moody.  They came over later in their dinghy and introduced themselves; they're from California, but keep their boat in Florida for easy access to these perfect cruising grounds.

Later that evening, we had the crew of Tara on board for taco night. All Elliott's idea--we made another grocery run to provision.  Mark and Caitie are a fun couple who quit their jobs, bought a boat, and are now sailing the seas for a year.  They call their blog Operation Tropication.  Look them up; they are smart.  Not too much text and lots of pictures, unlike mine which is neverending words.

Yesterday, we anchored here at Manjack Cay on recommendation from Angie for a sweet beach and privacy.  On our way here, we entered New Plymouth harbor on Green Turtle Cay to get brief internet for Elliott so that he could download a school assignment. We watched a bunch of kids jumping off the docks there, swim over to steps, climb up again, and jump again.  Their joy was contagious!   Right after that, we saw a group of dolphins swimming our way; as they passed alongside us, they were all four turned on their sides so that they could keep a good eye on the big animal in front of them; what a time not to have my camera ready!  But, like Elliott always recommends, I was soaking it up emotionally.

There's one other boat here in the anchorage, a motorboat.  Gary and Elliott went on shore yesterday while I started dinner and found a path that leads over to the beach, which we'll be visiting later this morning. 

Finished two books of an interesting series: Maisie Dobbs by Jacqueline Winspear.  Especially to all my Anglophile friends, you will love this book and the following one and I understand there's a third.  Interesting premise and interesting how she brings certain forward-thinking ideas into detective work.  Read it and let me know what you think.  I picked these up at the Great Harbour Marina bookswap shelf; love the book swaps!

The beach on both sides of Manjack Cay are just glorious!  We came ashore, sat awhile in the shade on this side while Elliott played with some curly tail lizards, then took the path to the other side.

There's a nice pavilion on the beach side which served as a great base camp.  The guys immediately went into the water, swimming and bodysurfing.

April 7, 2015 -- Marsh Harbor, Abacos, Bahamas

I can see why people like to live here in the Abacos.  The sound is perfect for sailing and we actually see sailboat and catamarans spreading their wings and sailing all over the place.  This is unlike other spots, where it seems that most cats and sailboats motor everywhere.  Even though a blow would not be unusual, the weather here is usually gorgeous, breezy, and perfect on the water.

An island ahead of us piqued our interest as it had a nice house on it, with several smaller houses around it; Gary said our friend John had told him that the CEO of Garmin owned the island and home.  Not too shabby, Mr. CEO guy.

We had a great sail up to Marsh Harbor.  We passed a boat we'd seen in Norfolk (do you remember the squall story?  This boat, Fuzzy Duck, was the only boat that didn't drag that night.)

We also noticed a sister ship to a boat some friends of ours have, which is an interesting coincidence, because Gary had just been emailing back and forth with one-half the owners.  When we were in Little Harbor, Gary remembered that our friends had friends who owned some land at Little Harbor.  In response to a query, our friend said that the lot is right above Pete's Pub and is for sale.  Oh how tempting!

Except . . . we hear that a developer has plans to add a marina there, including 60 slips, which, even though I'd only been there a day or so, is downright crazy.  It would totally change the atmosphere and mood of Little Harbor.  But usually greed wins out over everything and I fear that Little Harbor may not be saved.  Sad.

So, back to the Tartan (sistership of our friends).  Gary has this idea, obviously shared by other sailors, that when two or more sailboats are within close proximity of each other, their destination turns into a race.  The other boat, Tara, took a shortcut across some shallows and then tacked right behind us on the way into the harbor.  We had taken the longer route with better depth -- those two-digit numbers sure do make me happy, even when they're only 13 or so.  Anyway, they had a good run, as we did, but we made it into the harbor first as they had to do that last tack.

We were anchored and tidying things up when they came in and anchored behind us.  Elliott looked at them more closely and said, "Hey, I know who they are!  They have a blog!"  So once they were settled, he took the dinghy over and welcomed them.  They visited us briefly by dinghy and then we saw them again on the way to the grocery store on Marsh Harbor.

After we got back from our provisioning run, we offloaded the groceries and Elliott so that Gary and I could go find Angie on her boat in the anchorage and make sure that dinner was still on.  She was on board and we got to chat a bit; we agreed to meet back at her boat at 7 to head to shore.

 As we clambered out of our respective dinghies and started climbing the ladder to a restaurant on the far shore, I saw a sparkle come to Angie's eyes and she said, "You know, let's go somewhere else for dinner.  I've got a good idea."  So we got back in our dinghies and followed her a little bit down the shore, zigzagging around pilings tossed about by previous storms.  We arrived at Conky's Restaurant and Bar and it was perfect; felt more like a place the locals would go to and I believe we were the only tourists there.  Sometimes they're open; sometimes they're not.  No rhyme or reason, but that's the way it goes.

Angie is a great sailor and sailing instructor and is a born storyteller.  She had us in stitches telling us about some of her recent experiences in the Bahamas and past experiences back home in Maryland from when she was first learning to sail--as she said, "Lots of mistakes! Crash, and again--crash." 

Being from Tennessee, Angie has a great drawl.  One rosy red rum drink down my gullet and with some spillage down the front of my white hoodie, we enjoyed a good meal of chicken, fish, fresh vegetables, and salad. 

As we were leaving, we noticed that Angie's dinghy had gotten stuck under the pilings of the restaurant; Gary finessed it back out the other way and we were on our way, making promises to see each other tomorrow.

April 6, 2015 -- A Sailor Looks at Fifty (Apologies to Jimmy Buffett) -- Tilloo Cay, Abacos, Bahamas

My Captain is 50 years old today; for just a few months, I will be only six years older than him, rather than 7.  My mother was older than my father, just by a 13 months, but the time between May 24 (her birthday) and June 1 (his birthday), we used to give her such grief about being TWO WHOLE YEARS older than my father.  A funny coincidence, because my other sisters are married to younger men, too. 

So Gary turned 50.  I made him a birthday biscuit as I had no cake makings on board.  No birthday candles either, so we stuck a piece of craft store dowel in the biscuit, lit it, and serenaded him rather badly, but he smiled through it all.

Later, we took a short hop from over to Cracker P's for lunch, which, of course, as is our luck, was not open for another two days.  So we did a U-turn in the dinghy and tied up at Lubber's Landing to check it out as it was right next door to Cracker P's.  Now, we wanted to go to Cracker P's because of the history involved; apparently, this guy, in a legal dispute over a chicken, shot a sheriff somewhere in the United States.  In running from the law, he made his way to the Bahamas and wound up living as a hermit on Lubber's Quarter, what was then a small uninhabited cay.  Locals knew him as the "Naked Man" who came in occasionally for supplies without the benefit of clothing.  We don't know if it's true, but it was on the internet, so it must be.

Lubber's was a great second choice; we ordered a rum drink for me, a Kalik for Gary, and water for Elliott.  We started with cauliflower, breaded and deep-fried, smothered in a lovely spicy Bahamian sauce.  The guys had tuna burgers and I had an awesome salad, with dressing that had a hint of heat, too.  It was so good.  I get salads whenever I can because lettuce just doesn't keep well on a boat.  Cabbage is good and we use it all the time, but cabbage is just not lettuce.

I was keeping my eye on an occupied table the whole time we were ordering and waiting and as soon as they occupants got up, I was on it like a fly on, oh well, you know what I mean.  Kind of in a corner, it was a U-shaped couch with wide seats and large fluffy pillows abutting a table right down the center.  With the straw mat on the walls and the tropical breeze wafting through slatted windows, it was a perfect afternoon of drinking, eating, and people watching.

We lounged around long enough to close down the place, at which point, we were asked kindly to clear the premises.  We took the dinghy over Cracker P's beach, where we figured that he wouldn't mind our trespassing on their off day.  As we walked up the beach, a woman and man came out of the gate that said "Private," and the man got into a boat a left.  We chatted with the woman, who turned out to be the owner.  She said, "We'll be open on Wednesday."  We asked whether we could take the beach trail to the other side of the island, and she said, "Sure; just be sure to reenter the trailhead at the two palm trees." Good advice.

We noticed that she was recovering from an ankle injury; she said that in the 15 years that she's been living there, she'd never had a problem, but on a recent walk on the trail, her foot got caught under a tree root and she ended up having a break.  She was still nursing it as it was tender in the last stages of healing.  I know that feeling.

She looked at my shoes and said that I should be okay; I'm guessing flip-flops would have been out of the question.  Once we entered the trail, it felt like we were in a tropical jungle; birdsong and bugs hit us from all sides.  I got aggravated because I kept hearing new bird sounds, but could not see the birds to take a photo to get them identified.  There are several bird species here that are not found anywhere else in the world and they were being camera shy.  (My friend R. Bruce would certainly know how to get them to come out and pose, I'm sure!)

It was hot and still on the trail and you had to pay attention; roots snaked across the trail every which way and rounded coral heads popped up like the game "Whack-a-Mole," surprising you at every turn.

The water on the other side was flat calm, low tide.  We saw some interesting holes in the sand that were dug by larger animals than the crabs were are used to, so we walked with our heads down in case we ran into any of these strange digging animals. 

A little ways down the beach, there was a nice wooden lounge and a flotsam-fabricated bar called Cracker G's Tiki Bar.  Don't know if people really used it as a beach hangout, but Elliott stopped by to take a call on the shell phone.

It was a good day for a birthday.  When we got back to the boat, I checked Facebook as I'd been looking forward to connecting with Captain Angie Wilson again--we had first run into her at Riviera Beach (she was the one who visited us bearing ice for a Christmas present). 

She told me where she'd been giving her sailing lessons out of and we were only about 8 miles away!  I asked Gary whether we could go see her even though it would be changing his plans a bit; he was a little hesitant, but since we also had some provisioning to do, he agreed to the sail to Marsh Harbor tomorrow.  Angie and I made plans to meet for dinner.  Yay!

Sunday, April 5, 2015 -- Lynard Cay/Tilloo Cay or "So I Don't Swim? What's The Big Deal?"

The guys just left on the maiden voyage of their newly sail-rigged dinghy.  Another dinghy had gone by earlier from another boat and they were sailing and it seemed to inspire them to finish the project.

PVC pipes and canvas and drills and line littered the aft deck for two days while they worked; when they went off yesterday to explore the aforementioned reef, I took up the sewing of the sail and finished it off for Gary as a surprise.  They had some luck at the reef, but the current has picked up so quickly that they feared becoming separated from the boat, so they scrambled back on and came back.

Elliott saw some large fish under the boat earlier and set about rigging his fishing line, but to no avail. 

Gary was a dear, and plugged into some lively music, did the dishes for me.

We will be leaving here some time today to take an 8-mile sail to our next anchorage, which, Gary presented, has two dockside restaurants.  Looking forward to that, though I've been quite proud of myself for coming up with meals from seemingly nothing.  We're down to barely any fresh vegetables and only apples and oranges, and a soon-to-be-cracked coconut, so rice and beans may become a staple.  I used the last of the cabbage to make a lovely slaw yesterday and that was lunch; we had a little turkey meat left over so I hobbled together burgers, using cracker meal and eggs, onions and spices as filler.  They were pretty awesome.

We do have plenty of canned goods, but fresh is so much better; I hope we run into an open-air market or something like that on this portion of the trip because I'd like to try some new vegetables or fruit.

I am adventurous in some aspects; hah.  Speaking of which, I feel I must address my hesitancy in swimming.  I am a huge fan of water, seas, ponds, lakes, rivers, creeks.  I adore them and respect our dependence on them for sustenance in so many ways.  But while they fill a spiritual niche for me, I do not feel it is necessary to be swallowed up by them.  I especially respect their strength.

My earliest memories of water are being pushed into a deep ditch in Mississippi by the neighbor boy/sometimes bully Bubba.  I was quite small, maybe 5 or so.  As I was floundering about, he said, "Watch out for the snakes!"  I was traumatized.  It was sad and that experience, unfortunately, marks me to this day.  For those who think I ought to swim everywhere, I was "baptized" in the muddy Mississippi River, whose countenance was tricky at best.  Hurling around bends, watery fingers would latch onto you and pull you down to the bottom in a second, with nary a concern for your comfort.  I remember being caught in that current and having to be pulled out by family.  Swimming with gar, catfish, and snakes scared the bejesus out of me and I can still smell the cracked mudflats at rivers' edge, the oozing suck of which would bury you up to your knees and steal your shoes if you weren't wary enough to keep a fast and light step.

And maybe I'm remembering with a heavy heart a boy I had taken a fancy to early in high school.  He and a group of friends went swimming at a local swimming hole one day after school and he dove into the water and never resurfaced, drowning in the tangle of limbs of a submerged tree. 

So, when I do swim, I have to be comfortable and feel very safe.  It's just who I am and I don't think that I'm getting any less from this voyage because of it.