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.