Before going into the marina, we dinghied over to
explore the little village that is here and have lunch. Bahamian villages are rough cut, with dirt
roads, what pavement might be there is cracked and potholed, litter seems to be
a part of the natural environment, and the houses are not pristine, in fact,
many of them have sustained hurricane damage and are still boarded up to keep
from collapsing.
We passed the police department and a passel of boys
playing basketball on an open air court adjacent to what looked like a field
for celebrations at the like. Turns out
the next day, the school was having their annual fair and fundraiser.
Walking on, we turned right to see the edge of town,
and passed by a bar and a variety store and a grocery store. The stores were small cinderblock squares
with only a window or two and a raggedy weather-beaten door; neither seemed to
be open.
Cooliemae's was the place for lunch; a very chill
place. We entered via the back porch
which looks out over the water. They are
famous for their sunset views. We seated
ourselves and were told that the specials of the day were chicken and chicken;
we had the chicken. Served with peas and
rice (a typical Bahamian dish--like dirty rice) and a lovely coleslaw, it was a
hearty meal.
It was early afternoon when we returned to the boat
and then we came into the marina to find out slip. Ramon, an employee, and three other guys
helps us dock up. Turns out when Gary
introduced himself, out of the three guys, two of them were also Garys. Much hilarity ensued as we attempted to pass
Elliott off as Gary Jr.
Elliott and I walked around the marina and met some
other cruisers, including the crew (Gary and Melanie) of a boat that had been
docked in Islamorada at the same time we were there a few months ago. Small world.
Found out that they had stayed there longer because they had their bow
crunched by a 50-foot houseboat who got just a bit too close; they found out
later that mishaps are de rigeur for this boat.
Oy.
Every Friday night, a local couple hosts the Chill
and Grill, where they commandeer the grill and cook up pounds and pounds of
steak, chicken, ribs, and conch for the marina folk. Ten dollars a head and you get a quarter
chicken, side of rice and peas or macaroni and/or a roll. It takes a little while, but the food is good
and we had a great time talking to other cruisers.
We met a former cop named Tony, who was out in the
anchorage with us. Nice guy, a former
cop and cruising solo until he picks up a friend next week in Fort Lauderdale to help him sail back up North. Talking cars with him, we found out that he
used to race old Chevys back in the day when cars had real engines and not
robotic, electronic masses of chaos under the hoods. He gave Elliott good advice about racing cars;
have a backup plan. (Thank you, Tony!)
The two other couples sitting with us are Canadians,
including the people we'd seen in Islamorada.
Ken and his wife told us about their recent trip to Cuba; nice photos
and they said they had great food for such little money. Music at every restaurant. He sat at a table where Che Guevera, Raoul
and Fidel Castro sat probably planning the revolution.
So, the wind is picking up, sprinkles are falling,
and who knows what the night will bring.
I am thankful that we can be in the marina for a few nights and not
bobbing around on anchor. I don't think
I could have taken another night of that, even though the wind wasn't anywhere
near terrifying, it would have just done me in.
Hope Tony is faring well out in the anchorage.
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