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.
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