Destination DR
Continuing our south by north strategy, we skirted past the coral heads east and north of our anchorage off Ambergris Cay around Fish Cay and into the deep water of the Columbus Passage mid morning on April 13. This was our second attempt to wend our way through the treacherous coral heads around Ambergris. The morning before we found ourselves dodging coral heads, getting off course and narrow escaping a bad end. Discretion and exhaustion led us back through the coral maze in which we had found ourselves to our previous anchorage and our new found friends, Robin and Diana on S/V Solveig. The core value in cruising being flexibility, we cast off our frayed plan and took advantage of the situation at hand. Circumstances and bad navigation prevented our intended departure but provided the opportunity for a delightful evening of good food and wonderful conversation on Solveig. Robin, a retired CERN nuclear physicist and Diana, a former British spy, proved to be entertaining and gracious hosts as we dined well and held forth on a variety of topics with intelligence and insight. In other words, we agreed on just about everything.
Like the New Zealanders, they were also a part of the band of Southbounders we had met in George Town. They had originally planned to reach Trinidad, but their plans changed when their bottom paint began peeling off in large sheets from their steel hulled sloop. Apparently, when the boat yard in Ft. Lauderdale painted the bottom earlier in the year, the temperature was so cold the paint never cured properly, meaning that it had to be done over. So, instead of continuing south, they were spending the next couple of weeks in the Turks and Caicos. They would haul the boat in Provo and have the bottom painted and leave the boat there, on the hard, during hurricane season and return home to the UK. In the meantime they would explore the beautiful and relatively unspoiled Turks and Caicos.
After sailing several hours north to avoid the coral reefs, we finally turned south, southeast toward Luperon, on the north coast of the Dominican Republic. With an east and east southeast wind of 16-20 knots, we were able to sail and motor sail pretty much in the desired direction. We made as much easterly as we could, knowing that the wind would back to the southeast. Again we had a current working against us. Still, in great weather and 2-4' seas, we had as fine a passage as could be expected. Sailing all night in a tunnel of darkness, we emerged in the morning to see the hazy mountains of the Dominican Republic. On a dying wind and flat seas, we headed for the Luperon inlet watching dolphins lazily feeding just ahead. The entrance was fairly easy to spot. We identified what the chart called a “conspicuous house” just west of the mouth of the inlet. With a waypoint, a heading and using a distinctive mountain profile as a range, we slowly proceeded into the harbor. The water is deep almost to shore and the cruising guide provided excellent directions. The murky inlet water gave no clue as to depth, but we easily made our way into this very protected anchorage. As we passed M/T Essential Parts, Tom, the captain came out on deck to provide good advice regarding anchoring. While the harbor is generally deep, there are a few very shallow spots that aren't obvious. Just as we dropped anchor, we heard a friendly, “Hola, excellente (referencing our anchoring skills)!” Papo, motored alongside. He explained in a mix of Spanish and English that he can supply us with whatever we need. We call him the (gun toting) 'consegliere' of the harbor. We have called him when we needed anything from drinking water to diesel fuel. He comes right out with whatever you want, which is good, because there is no marina into which you can go to fuel up. He called the “Comandante” on the radio to inform him of our arrival and explained that we should wait to be boarded and cleared, but if after several hours no one came out, we could head into the government dock and proceed to the Aduana.
We cleaned up the boat as we waited...and waited...and waited. Three hours later, still no Comandante In the DR, the naval Comandante often has no access to a boat. Therefore, he has to get a ride with someone. The vessel being cleared is expected to help pay for the gas. That may explain the delay. Tired of waiting and hungry, we lowered the dinghy and headed to shore, walked to the Aduana and began the process of clearing in. Many cruisers have decried cruising in the DR, complaining of bribe taking and confusing, changing requirements. Our experience doesn't support those complaints. Even with our poor command of Spanish, the officials patiently worked through the minimal paperwork, insisted on providing receipts for each transaction and even let us get lunch in town while waiting for the Comandante and the Agricultural inspector to be available.
Back on the boat and two hours later, the navy ties up alongside with ½ dozen men, including an agricultural inspector. One man in street shoes, removes them before boarding to avoid marking up the deck. The whole process goes smoothly and I offer, but must insist upon, a couple of dollars to defray the cost of gas. I believe, based on our experience, that as tourism has increased in the DR, the government has taken steps to reduce the incidence of bribe taking and standardize the process. We ended up paying about $130 US to enter and received receipts for everything, except the gas money. Reputation, language and ignorance often create unwarranted suspicions. We met an American couple from Texas who believed the fees were outrageous and worried that they had been cheated. They pointed to a schedule of fees and exclaimed that the $350 per person fee until we pointed out that the prices were in pesos, not dollars and equivalent to about $10 US.
Luperon, a small, rural, town, 2 hours from the nearest airport and not far from Haiti, sits on the shore of one of the most protected harbors in the Eastern Caribbean. Surrounded by mountains and protected from the sea by a dogleg inlet, no safer spot could be found. Mangrove trees line the harbor providing both a soft landing for any boat that goes adrift as well. They also offer a means to secure lines to shore in the event of a storm. The town itself consists of 2 primary streets that converge at the dock. Goats, dogs and chickens compete with cars, burros, and 'motoconchos' (small motorcycles that provide taxi service) on Calle Duarte, the main street. Lined with a mix of shabby, small vegetable stores, a welding shop, one room residences and restaurants, the street bustles with activity. People greet each other and strangers cheerfully. With the houses sitting right on the street, the sidewalk becomes an extension of the homes and businesses. Men and women play dominoes at tables, slamming the pieces down with enthusiasm. Girls braid each others' hair, farmers sell produce from the back of their trucks and a loudspeaker broadcasts clucking chickens, announcing the arrival of a pickup carrying freshly killed birds for sale, whole or cut to order.
Always on the lookout for a good meal after being on the water for a couple of days, we take the steps up to a second floor restaurant overlooking the main intersection with the town's sole traffic light (non-working). Andre, the owner/manager, soon appears, welcomes us in French accented English. A French Canadian who sailed into Luperon 5 years ago with the intention of continuing on through the Caribbean, he opened the restaurant only recently. As the food is served he advises us that, “If you don't like the food, you don't have to pay!” An American, sitting next to us, empty plate in front of him, tells Andre with a smile that his meal was terrible! “Too late”, replies Andre. Our neighbor introduces himself and we learn that he is Bill from Logan, Ohio, not far from where my mother was born and raised! He too sailed to Luperon several years ago, planning to sail to Australia, only to get caught up the this dynamic, friendly, beautiful but poor country. He is retired from the Boy Scouts of America, where he organized camps, excursions, etc. for hundreds of boys at a time. He decided to use his organizing skills here in his retirement. He runs a nonprofit, nondenominational mission that builds homes for the poor and helps the local people by procuring school supplies, medicine, whatever is needed.
The friendly, industrious people of Luperon reflect a lively and diverse culture and leave a positive impression. At the same time, the economic poverty is obvious. Andre told us the average employee earns about $3 USD a day and while prices for some things are low, many items are at least as expensive as they are in the States. Still, nearly everyone you pass offers a friendly “Hola!” People seem to care greatly about their personal appearance, dressing well considering their apparent lack of means. We get numerous offers for assistance, with some gratuity expected, but few beggars. Nearly everyone, young and old seem to be looking for a way to hustle a few pesos. If a service is provided they expect compensation, but no handouts. If you don't wish the service offered, a simple, "No, gracious" moves them on to the next prospective customer.
We are excited to be at last in the Caribbean. The people, the landscape and the Spanish heritage all promise a refreshing contrast to the former English colonies of the Bahamas. On top of that, we hope to visit my cousin Byron who lives in Santo Domingo.
Note: Pictures to follow. No high speed internet available and life is short.
Like the New Zealanders, they were also a part of the band of Southbounders we had met in George Town. They had originally planned to reach Trinidad, but their plans changed when their bottom paint began peeling off in large sheets from their steel hulled sloop. Apparently, when the boat yard in Ft. Lauderdale painted the bottom earlier in the year, the temperature was so cold the paint never cured properly, meaning that it had to be done over. So, instead of continuing south, they were spending the next couple of weeks in the Turks and Caicos. They would haul the boat in Provo and have the bottom painted and leave the boat there, on the hard, during hurricane season and return home to the UK. In the meantime they would explore the beautiful and relatively unspoiled Turks and Caicos.
After sailing several hours north to avoid the coral reefs, we finally turned south, southeast toward Luperon, on the north coast of the Dominican Republic. With an east and east southeast wind of 16-20 knots, we were able to sail and motor sail pretty much in the desired direction. We made as much easterly as we could, knowing that the wind would back to the southeast. Again we had a current working against us. Still, in great weather and 2-4' seas, we had as fine a passage as could be expected. Sailing all night in a tunnel of darkness, we emerged in the morning to see the hazy mountains of the Dominican Republic. On a dying wind and flat seas, we headed for the Luperon inlet watching dolphins lazily feeding just ahead. The entrance was fairly easy to spot. We identified what the chart called a “conspicuous house” just west of the mouth of the inlet. With a waypoint, a heading and using a distinctive mountain profile as a range, we slowly proceeded into the harbor. The water is deep almost to shore and the cruising guide provided excellent directions. The murky inlet water gave no clue as to depth, but we easily made our way into this very protected anchorage. As we passed M/T Essential Parts, Tom, the captain came out on deck to provide good advice regarding anchoring. While the harbor is generally deep, there are a few very shallow spots that aren't obvious. Just as we dropped anchor, we heard a friendly, “Hola, excellente (referencing our anchoring skills)!” Papo, motored alongside. He explained in a mix of Spanish and English that he can supply us with whatever we need. We call him the (gun toting) 'consegliere' of the harbor. We have called him when we needed anything from drinking water to diesel fuel. He comes right out with whatever you want, which is good, because there is no marina into which you can go to fuel up. He called the “Comandante” on the radio to inform him of our arrival and explained that we should wait to be boarded and cleared, but if after several hours no one came out, we could head into the government dock and proceed to the Aduana.
We cleaned up the boat as we waited...and waited...and waited. Three hours later, still no Comandante In the DR, the naval Comandante often has no access to a boat. Therefore, he has to get a ride with someone. The vessel being cleared is expected to help pay for the gas. That may explain the delay. Tired of waiting and hungry, we lowered the dinghy and headed to shore, walked to the Aduana and began the process of clearing in. Many cruisers have decried cruising in the DR, complaining of bribe taking and confusing, changing requirements. Our experience doesn't support those complaints. Even with our poor command of Spanish, the officials patiently worked through the minimal paperwork, insisted on providing receipts for each transaction and even let us get lunch in town while waiting for the Comandante and the Agricultural inspector to be available.
Back on the boat and two hours later, the navy ties up alongside with ½ dozen men, including an agricultural inspector. One man in street shoes, removes them before boarding to avoid marking up the deck. The whole process goes smoothly and I offer, but must insist upon, a couple of dollars to defray the cost of gas. I believe, based on our experience, that as tourism has increased in the DR, the government has taken steps to reduce the incidence of bribe taking and standardize the process. We ended up paying about $130 US to enter and received receipts for everything, except the gas money. Reputation, language and ignorance often create unwarranted suspicions. We met an American couple from Texas who believed the fees were outrageous and worried that they had been cheated. They pointed to a schedule of fees and exclaimed that the $350 per person fee until we pointed out that the prices were in pesos, not dollars and equivalent to about $10 US.
Luperon, a small, rural, town, 2 hours from the nearest airport and not far from Haiti, sits on the shore of one of the most protected harbors in the Eastern Caribbean. Surrounded by mountains and protected from the sea by a dogleg inlet, no safer spot could be found. Mangrove trees line the harbor providing both a soft landing for any boat that goes adrift as well. They also offer a means to secure lines to shore in the event of a storm. The town itself consists of 2 primary streets that converge at the dock. Goats, dogs and chickens compete with cars, burros, and 'motoconchos' (small motorcycles that provide taxi service) on Calle Duarte, the main street. Lined with a mix of shabby, small vegetable stores, a welding shop, one room residences and restaurants, the street bustles with activity. People greet each other and strangers cheerfully. With the houses sitting right on the street, the sidewalk becomes an extension of the homes and businesses. Men and women play dominoes at tables, slamming the pieces down with enthusiasm. Girls braid each others' hair, farmers sell produce from the back of their trucks and a loudspeaker broadcasts clucking chickens, announcing the arrival of a pickup carrying freshly killed birds for sale, whole or cut to order.
Always on the lookout for a good meal after being on the water for a couple of days, we take the steps up to a second floor restaurant overlooking the main intersection with the town's sole traffic light (non-working). Andre, the owner/manager, soon appears, welcomes us in French accented English. A French Canadian who sailed into Luperon 5 years ago with the intention of continuing on through the Caribbean, he opened the restaurant only recently. As the food is served he advises us that, “If you don't like the food, you don't have to pay!” An American, sitting next to us, empty plate in front of him, tells Andre with a smile that his meal was terrible! “Too late”, replies Andre. Our neighbor introduces himself and we learn that he is Bill from Logan, Ohio, not far from where my mother was born and raised! He too sailed to Luperon several years ago, planning to sail to Australia, only to get caught up the this dynamic, friendly, beautiful but poor country. He is retired from the Boy Scouts of America, where he organized camps, excursions, etc. for hundreds of boys at a time. He decided to use his organizing skills here in his retirement. He runs a nonprofit, nondenominational mission that builds homes for the poor and helps the local people by procuring school supplies, medicine, whatever is needed.
The friendly, industrious people of Luperon reflect a lively and diverse culture and leave a positive impression. At the same time, the economic poverty is obvious. Andre told us the average employee earns about $3 USD a day and while prices for some things are low, many items are at least as expensive as they are in the States. Still, nearly everyone you pass offers a friendly “Hola!” People seem to care greatly about their personal appearance, dressing well considering their apparent lack of means. We get numerous offers for assistance, with some gratuity expected, but few beggars. Nearly everyone, young and old seem to be looking for a way to hustle a few pesos. If a service is provided they expect compensation, but no handouts. If you don't wish the service offered, a simple, "No, gracious" moves them on to the next prospective customer.
We are excited to be at last in the Caribbean. The people, the landscape and the Spanish heritage all promise a refreshing contrast to the former English colonies of the Bahamas. On top of that, we hope to visit my cousin Byron who lives in Santo Domingo.
Note: Pictures to follow. No high speed internet available and life is short.
South by North
Patience worn thin awaiting favorable weather was finally rewarded as we exited Elizabeth Harbour, George Town, March 29, around noon into bright sunshine and a south by southeast 20 knot wind. Still, George Town presented one last sticking point. Gusty, strong winds the week before had caused everyone to let out additional anchor chain. The depth and opacity of the water obscured the fact that our closest neighbor, S/V Helen Irene, now rested nearly over our anchor. Ted and Judy, her owners, were attending beach side church services as we edged carefully forward. In spite of premonitions of punishment for not attending church, Pat skillfully maneuvered Live Now into position as we finessed the anchor up and were aweigh, perhaps blessed by the influence of fervent prayer ashore.
Once clear of the inlet, with all sail flying, we headed northeast toward Long Island. But wait! Going North to go South? Shallow water requires a route that takes you a bit north of George Town, around Long Island then south, southeast toward our next destination, the Dominican Republic. Since the prevailing wind is southeast, the direction you want to go, you must take advantage of the brief periods when the wind breaks from it's usual pattern to get as far east as possible, even if it means going a little north. That way, when the prevailing winds return, you can turn. Because the breaks in the prevailing pattern are brief, unless you want to face strong headwinds and uncomfortable seas, heading southeast from the Bahamas usually involves short hops and long waits in sometimes uncomfortable anchorages or heading east far out to sea. We were prepared to stop at either Long Island, Rum Cay or Conception as conditions dictated. As it turned out, however, for once, the arbitrary and capricious wind gods favored us and just as we rounded Cape Santa Maria, Long Island, it obligingly backed east, allowing us to make the turn south, pretty much on the rhumb line for our destination. The result: a nearly perfect beam reach sail in 15 to 20 knot winds in 2' seas for the first half of our cruise. We sailed so well we actually passed another boat, the S/V Venture, a noteworthy event for its rarity. Trolling for fish as we sailed, I caught a small, fierce looking barracuda but released it after recalling that barracuda cause more fish poisoning than any other.
The barracuda proved luckier than several flying fish that found their way on board on their own. I couldn't get Pat to attempt a mouth to gill resuscitation. So after briefly considering eating them, we held a 'scaled' down memorial service and returned them to a watery grave .
As night fell a clocking wind and adverse 1/2 knot current dictated a combination sailing and motor sailing toward Mayaquana, our last stop in the Bahamas. We timed our arrived with the sunrise and were treated to a truly sublime moment as we sat in the lee of the island, 2 miles off the coast: sails furled, motor off, motionless on a silent, mill pond sea; waiting for what proved to be a spectacular dawn. We found a deserted anchorage in Betsy Bay and, I, having had the last watch went to bed while Pat cleaned up the boat and made ready for the next leg of our journey.
Just before dusk the same day, refreshed from 6 hours sleep and a meal, we raised the anchor and headed south around Devil's Point toward Providenciales, finding hope in a route that left the devil astern and headed for “divine guidance”. Apparently, that guidance did not include a favorable wind as we found that it had continued to clock southeast, putting it right on our nose. With the wind and the current pushing us the wrong direction, we struggled to make our way. Sailing close with a 16 knot wind we could barely make headway, so, we bore off almost due south tacking northeast just north of Little Inagua then finally back southeast and our destination. Rather then the planned early morning arrival, we now approached the the low-lying Turks and Caicos in the middle of the day. In reviewing the charts and the advice they provided, the Pony Cut entrance to the Banks looked more promising than the generally recommended Sandbore Channel, so, in the late afternoon, we entered the Cut and dropped anchor behind the reef in clean sand and 9 feet of water. Submerged reef on either side of us gave us a unsettled, vulnerable feeling. However, the anchorage proved to be quite comfortable and safe. We had planned to go on to Providenciales (Provo) about 9 nm away but the all night sail and lateness in the day prompted us to elect to stay put until morning.
After a peaceful night, we followed the Pony Channel across the shallow Caicos Banks to Provo. The channel is wide, the water clear and we anchored in Sapodilla Bay around 10:00 am. The Turks and Caicos, originally a Spanish possession but settled by the British in the 1700's, remains a British Crown Colony. After debating about whether you pronounce Sapodilla in the Spanish manner, giving the “ll” a “y” sound, I, correctly, as it turned out, used the English pronunciation and in accordance with all written guidance, attempted to contact Immigration by VHF radio. Now, Immigration and other officials can be very particular about following the protocol. On occasion, we have gotten no response and occasionally a hostile response, for failing to correctly and precisely identify the party to whom we wished to speak. In Nassau, for example, if you try to raise the Nassau Harbour “Master”, the more common title for those controlling the harbor, you'll get no response because you must contact Nassau Harbour “Control”. Once failing to raise anyone on the official hailing channel, Channel 16, I went to their known working channel, Channel 9. They responded, informing me that the hailing channel was 16. I hailed them again on Channel 16 and they responded, directing me to Channel 9! The cruising guides are sometimes unclear, ambiguous or contradictory as to the procedure. The published protocol for entering the Turks and Caicos requires contacting the port of entry Harbour Master as soon as you are within radio range and you'll be directed to an anchorage or dock. We, dutifully, attempted to do that 3 times on the designated channel (16) a couple of miles from the harbor, no response. We anchored and once again called, trying different combinations of titles and locations. Not completely surprised by this, we began to lower the dinghy and seek someone with whom to clear. Finally, we hear a BBC quality voice come over the airwaves announcing, “Live Now, Live Now, this is Southside Marina, Southside Marina.” Simon, a British expatriate, with his educated, modulated voice, in the most welcoming manner, informs us that the process here is to beach your dinghy and make your way to Immigration & Customs just over the hill from the anchorage. He also mentions that the Marina, some miles away, is having a soiree and dinner and they would be “frightfully pleased, if we could attend”. There's no charge of course, it's just something they do every Thursday night and a car and driver will “be round” to pick us up at, “...shall we say 6:00?” Well, having eaten canned beef stew for two nights running, we're something short of reluctant to accept and say that of course we'll be “delighted”.
Still to check in, I lowered the dinghy, motored to shore, and proceeded up the dirt road following Simon's directions. It was fortunate that I had directions because I found no sign of anything resembling an official building, in fact, I found no signs at all. Sapadillo Bay is the most frequent port of entry for cruisers so one might expect a “All Visitors Must Immediately Report to ….” Or, “This Way to Immigration”. I wandered up the road, took the first right and approached a gated dock area. Still no signs or even flags flying that would suggest that officialdom resides here. One of the four civilian Security guards issued me an id and directed me to Immigration, a nondescript concrete building with “Immigration” painted in small letters over the entrance. Of course, now it's noon and I found no one there. The door was locked. I went up the stairs to find a uniformed man trying to break into an office. He looked up sheepishly and explained that he left his keys at home. I really couldn't help him and inquired about clearing in. He really couldn't help me, suggested I try the office downstairs. I told him that no one's there, he said you might try Customs. I went back downstairs and out the door, round the building to a side entrance marked, helpfully, “Customs”. There I found people eating lunch. I said that I could come back later, they insisted on starting the paperwork. The process proved refreshingly simple and informal (and cost a fraction of what it cost to enter the Bahamas). I completed a couple of forms: “Firearms...No.” “Pets...No.” “Purpose of your visit...Pleasure”. “Stores...Umm??...Neiman-Marcus?” They told me that there's no need for my wife to fill out the forms, that I can sign for both of us, no problem. I asked about Immigration and pointed out that there was no one in the office. They told me not to worry about it, I didn't need to go to Immigration. Everyone was friendly and in response to my polite questioning, I learned about life on the island and their families. This was not the usual treatment you get and I was favorably impressed.
Other than the initial frustration in contacting and locating the office, the process went exceedingly well. In case you think the confusion I experienced is somehow associated with “third world countries”, we and others have found US Customs & Immigration just as loose or maybe worse. A British couple we met came from Cuba to the US (remember they are our sworn enemies--the Cubans, not the British). Heeding dire official warnings covering visitors entering the US from Cuba, they headed immediately for the Immigration office in Ft. Lauderdale. US Immigration and Customs had no clue of what to do. After calling around and checking manuals, our friends were finally told to go away and pretend that they hadn't even gone to Cuba! We were once told to wait 3 days in Key West before clearing customs when we returned from Cuba (a perfectly legal visit, well mostly legal anyway). We were told to stay on-board until then. I explained to the the authorities that by then we would have drunk all the rum, smoked all the cigars and the illegals would have been long gone! Sympathetic, they 'expedited' the process and came the next day (a holiday weekend resulting in my paying overtime for the service—receiving no credit for the beer they drank while conducting the inspection).
That night, we arrived on the Sapadilla Bay beach to await our ride to dinner. There we found Roy & Doon of S/V Alianta and Sim & Rosie of S/V Bold Endeavour. We had met with them briefly in George Town several weeks before as a part of a group heading south. They had left George Town two weeks before us and gotten stuck first in Mayaquana and now here waiting for good weather. Both couples are from New Zealand. They met in Florida and have been “buddy boating” ever since. Bob, the Marina owner, arrives shortly and we all pile into his 4 seater 4X4 (meaning that Doon climbs over the back seat and hunches and Rosie sits on Sim's lap). The roads are atrocious and we bounce our way around the bay to Southside Marina and a fantastic meal of grilled grouper, rice & beans, 3 kinds of salad and Pat's ever popular cream cheese concoction. Simon and his wife Charlyne, along with Bob are gracious hosts, sharing their stories, that are almost becoming common, of intentions to sail the world interrupted by arrival in “Velcro” paradise where they get stuck (Simon arrived 4 years ago). We are trying to take more of a “Post-It” approach to paradise, staying put for awhile then moving on. Ron, soloing a large wooden trawler, grilled the fish that he'd caught earlier that day and shared his story. He's really just passing through and has only been in Provo for about 4 months. We met another couple from Germany, Frank and Dorte, cruising south on their Morgan 41, S/V Elan. Appetites sated and exhaustion setting in, Bob returned us to Sapadilla Bay. Bob turns his car so that his headlights illuminate the beach as we carried/drug our dinghies, stranded by the low tide, 200 feet to the water, a process made more difficult by our earlier overindulgence (speaking for the others, of course, not ourselves—primarily because this was a BYOB and we had forgotten our "B").
The Turks and Caicos consist of 30 times more water than land. Unmarked coral heads that poke the surface from as deep as 20 feet dot the shallow Banks. There are no navigation aids. Given that, they must be transited in daylight with good visibility, meaning fairly flat seas so that you can see the reefs. We had planned to motor to Ambergris Cay on the southeast edge of the banks in the morning in preparation for exiting the Turks the following day. However, the morning, contrary to the forecast, brought a 20 knot southeast wind, meaning a slow uncomfortable slog that might end with us on the Banks in the dark. So, with laundry to do and emails to check, we motored instead a couple of miles to a more comfortable anchorage in the basin of the incomplete but well protected Cooper Marina (known as the Southside Annex) located within a mile of the Southside Marina. There we found Ron, our chef from the night before, on his trawler, Cruzin Fools. We spent the remainder of the day doing a month's worth of laundry, reading and visiting with our new found friends at Southside. Tomorrow we set sail for Ambergris Cay.
NOTE: More pictures to follow. High speed internet not available.
Once clear of the inlet, with all sail flying, we headed northeast toward Long Island. But wait! Going North to go South? Shallow water requires a route that takes you a bit north of George Town, around Long Island then south, southeast toward our next destination, the Dominican Republic. Since the prevailing wind is southeast, the direction you want to go, you must take advantage of the brief periods when the wind breaks from it's usual pattern to get as far east as possible, even if it means going a little north. That way, when the prevailing winds return, you can turn. Because the breaks in the prevailing pattern are brief, unless you want to face strong headwinds and uncomfortable seas, heading southeast from the Bahamas usually involves short hops and long waits in sometimes uncomfortable anchorages or heading east far out to sea. We were prepared to stop at either Long Island, Rum Cay or Conception as conditions dictated. As it turned out, however, for once, the arbitrary and capricious wind gods favored us and just as we rounded Cape Santa Maria, Long Island, it obligingly backed east, allowing us to make the turn south, pretty much on the rhumb line for our destination. The result: a nearly perfect beam reach sail in 15 to 20 knot winds in 2' seas for the first half of our cruise. We sailed so well we actually passed another boat, the S/V Venture, a noteworthy event for its rarity. Trolling for fish as we sailed, I caught a small, fierce looking barracuda but released it after recalling that barracuda cause more fish poisoning than any other.
The barracuda proved luckier than several flying fish that found their way on board on their own. I couldn't get Pat to attempt a mouth to gill resuscitation. So after briefly considering eating them, we held a 'scaled' down memorial service and returned them to a watery grave .
As night fell a clocking wind and adverse 1/2 knot current dictated a combination sailing and motor sailing toward Mayaquana, our last stop in the Bahamas. We timed our arrived with the sunrise and were treated to a truly sublime moment as we sat in the lee of the island, 2 miles off the coast: sails furled, motor off, motionless on a silent, mill pond sea; waiting for what proved to be a spectacular dawn. We found a deserted anchorage in Betsy Bay and, I, having had the last watch went to bed while Pat cleaned up the boat and made ready for the next leg of our journey.
Just before dusk the same day, refreshed from 6 hours sleep and a meal, we raised the anchor and headed south around Devil's Point toward Providenciales, finding hope in a route that left the devil astern and headed for “divine guidance”. Apparently, that guidance did not include a favorable wind as we found that it had continued to clock southeast, putting it right on our nose. With the wind and the current pushing us the wrong direction, we struggled to make our way. Sailing close with a 16 knot wind we could barely make headway, so, we bore off almost due south tacking northeast just north of Little Inagua then finally back southeast and our destination. Rather then the planned early morning arrival, we now approached the the low-lying Turks and Caicos in the middle of the day. In reviewing the charts and the advice they provided, the Pony Cut entrance to the Banks looked more promising than the generally recommended Sandbore Channel, so, in the late afternoon, we entered the Cut and dropped anchor behind the reef in clean sand and 9 feet of water. Submerged reef on either side of us gave us a unsettled, vulnerable feeling. However, the anchorage proved to be quite comfortable and safe. We had planned to go on to Providenciales (Provo) about 9 nm away but the all night sail and lateness in the day prompted us to elect to stay put until morning.
After a peaceful night, we followed the Pony Channel across the shallow Caicos Banks to Provo. The channel is wide, the water clear and we anchored in Sapodilla Bay around 10:00 am. The Turks and Caicos, originally a Spanish possession but settled by the British in the 1700's, remains a British Crown Colony. After debating about whether you pronounce Sapodilla in the Spanish manner, giving the “ll” a “y” sound, I, correctly, as it turned out, used the English pronunciation and in accordance with all written guidance, attempted to contact Immigration by VHF radio. Now, Immigration and other officials can be very particular about following the protocol. On occasion, we have gotten no response and occasionally a hostile response, for failing to correctly and precisely identify the party to whom we wished to speak. In Nassau, for example, if you try to raise the Nassau Harbour “Master”, the more common title for those controlling the harbor, you'll get no response because you must contact Nassau Harbour “Control”. Once failing to raise anyone on the official hailing channel, Channel 16, I went to their known working channel, Channel 9. They responded, informing me that the hailing channel was 16. I hailed them again on Channel 16 and they responded, directing me to Channel 9! The cruising guides are sometimes unclear, ambiguous or contradictory as to the procedure. The published protocol for entering the Turks and Caicos requires contacting the port of entry Harbour Master as soon as you are within radio range and you'll be directed to an anchorage or dock. We, dutifully, attempted to do that 3 times on the designated channel (16) a couple of miles from the harbor, no response. We anchored and once again called, trying different combinations of titles and locations. Not completely surprised by this, we began to lower the dinghy and seek someone with whom to clear. Finally, we hear a BBC quality voice come over the airwaves announcing, “Live Now, Live Now, this is Southside Marina, Southside Marina.” Simon, a British expatriate, with his educated, modulated voice, in the most welcoming manner, informs us that the process here is to beach your dinghy and make your way to Immigration & Customs just over the hill from the anchorage. He also mentions that the Marina, some miles away, is having a soiree and dinner and they would be “frightfully pleased, if we could attend”. There's no charge of course, it's just something they do every Thursday night and a car and driver will “be round” to pick us up at, “...shall we say 6:00?” Well, having eaten canned beef stew for two nights running, we're something short of reluctant to accept and say that of course we'll be “delighted”.
Still to check in, I lowered the dinghy, motored to shore, and proceeded up the dirt road following Simon's directions. It was fortunate that I had directions because I found no sign of anything resembling an official building, in fact, I found no signs at all. Sapadillo Bay is the most frequent port of entry for cruisers so one might expect a “All Visitors Must Immediately Report to ….” Or, “This Way to Immigration”. I wandered up the road, took the first right and approached a gated dock area. Still no signs or even flags flying that would suggest that officialdom resides here. One of the four civilian Security guards issued me an id and directed me to Immigration, a nondescript concrete building with “Immigration” painted in small letters over the entrance. Of course, now it's noon and I found no one there. The door was locked. I went up the stairs to find a uniformed man trying to break into an office. He looked up sheepishly and explained that he left his keys at home. I really couldn't help him and inquired about clearing in. He really couldn't help me, suggested I try the office downstairs. I told him that no one's there, he said you might try Customs. I went back downstairs and out the door, round the building to a side entrance marked, helpfully, “Customs”. There I found people eating lunch. I said that I could come back later, they insisted on starting the paperwork. The process proved refreshingly simple and informal (and cost a fraction of what it cost to enter the Bahamas). I completed a couple of forms: “Firearms...No.” “Pets...No.” “Purpose of your visit...Pleasure”. “Stores...Umm??...Neiman-Marcus?” They told me that there's no need for my wife to fill out the forms, that I can sign for both of us, no problem. I asked about Immigration and pointed out that there was no one in the office. They told me not to worry about it, I didn't need to go to Immigration. Everyone was friendly and in response to my polite questioning, I learned about life on the island and their families. This was not the usual treatment you get and I was favorably impressed.
Other than the initial frustration in contacting and locating the office, the process went exceedingly well. In case you think the confusion I experienced is somehow associated with “third world countries”, we and others have found US Customs & Immigration just as loose or maybe worse. A British couple we met came from Cuba to the US (remember they are our sworn enemies--the Cubans, not the British). Heeding dire official warnings covering visitors entering the US from Cuba, they headed immediately for the Immigration office in Ft. Lauderdale. US Immigration and Customs had no clue of what to do. After calling around and checking manuals, our friends were finally told to go away and pretend that they hadn't even gone to Cuba! We were once told to wait 3 days in Key West before clearing customs when we returned from Cuba (a perfectly legal visit, well mostly legal anyway). We were told to stay on-board until then. I explained to the the authorities that by then we would have drunk all the rum, smoked all the cigars and the illegals would have been long gone! Sympathetic, they 'expedited' the process and came the next day (a holiday weekend resulting in my paying overtime for the service—receiving no credit for the beer they drank while conducting the inspection).
That night, we arrived on the Sapadilla Bay beach to await our ride to dinner. There we found Roy & Doon of S/V Alianta and Sim & Rosie of S/V Bold Endeavour. We had met with them briefly in George Town several weeks before as a part of a group heading south. They had left George Town two weeks before us and gotten stuck first in Mayaquana and now here waiting for good weather. Both couples are from New Zealand. They met in Florida and have been “buddy boating” ever since. Bob, the Marina owner, arrives shortly and we all pile into his 4 seater 4X4 (meaning that Doon climbs over the back seat and hunches and Rosie sits on Sim's lap). The roads are atrocious and we bounce our way around the bay to Southside Marina and a fantastic meal of grilled grouper, rice & beans, 3 kinds of salad and Pat's ever popular cream cheese concoction. Simon and his wife Charlyne, along with Bob are gracious hosts, sharing their stories, that are almost becoming common, of intentions to sail the world interrupted by arrival in “Velcro” paradise where they get stuck (Simon arrived 4 years ago). We are trying to take more of a “Post-It” approach to paradise, staying put for awhile then moving on. Ron, soloing a large wooden trawler, grilled the fish that he'd caught earlier that day and shared his story. He's really just passing through and has only been in Provo for about 4 months. We met another couple from Germany, Frank and Dorte, cruising south on their Morgan 41, S/V Elan. Appetites sated and exhaustion setting in, Bob returned us to Sapadilla Bay. Bob turns his car so that his headlights illuminate the beach as we carried/drug our dinghies, stranded by the low tide, 200 feet to the water, a process made more difficult by our earlier overindulgence (speaking for the others, of course, not ourselves—primarily because this was a BYOB and we had forgotten our "B").
The Turks and Caicos consist of 30 times more water than land. Unmarked coral heads that poke the surface from as deep as 20 feet dot the shallow Banks. There are no navigation aids. Given that, they must be transited in daylight with good visibility, meaning fairly flat seas so that you can see the reefs. We had planned to motor to Ambergris Cay on the southeast edge of the banks in the morning in preparation for exiting the Turks the following day. However, the morning, contrary to the forecast, brought a 20 knot southeast wind, meaning a slow uncomfortable slog that might end with us on the Banks in the dark. So, with laundry to do and emails to check, we motored instead a couple of miles to a more comfortable anchorage in the basin of the incomplete but well protected Cooper Marina (known as the Southside Annex) located within a mile of the Southside Marina. There we found Ron, our chef from the night before, on his trawler, Cruzin Fools. We spent the remainder of the day doing a month's worth of laundry, reading and visiting with our new found friends at Southside. Tomorrow we set sail for Ambergris Cay.
NOTE: More pictures to follow. High speed internet not available.
The 'You Gotta Regatta' ~~ or ~~ Kids, What you Parents Are Really Doing When They Think You Are Not Looking
“Strike one!” the Umpire intones as the ball flies over the catcher's head into the backstop. The Bahamian batter turns incredulously to the Ump. “Strike?”, he challenges meekly. “Yeah, strike, and the next one's a strike too!” as he confiscates the bat as “illegal” and hands him a broom. “Use this!” The Umpire imperiously directs the next batter, a right hander, to the opposite side of the plate, forcing him to bat left handed. The batter dribbles a ball to the shortstop, who, with men on 1st and 2nd, quickly tosses it over the head of the 3rd baseman for an attempted forced out. The game announcer, mike in hand, keeps up a constant patter as he trots onto the field, deftly fields the overthrown ball with his free hand and throws it to 3rd for the out. “You're out!” shouts the Ump. “Everybody's out!” He commands, even though the scoreboard shows there were no outs prior to the play. And so, the game between the Bahamian home town team and the “Cruisers” continues. The Cruisers come to bat. Gabrielle, the right fielder, struts to the plate humming, “Do-wah-diddy-diddy-dum-diddy-do”, leans over with her balloon enhanced, curvaceous form, obscuring fully ½ the strike zone and provocatively wiggles herself into some semblance of a batting stance. All the while, her designated “runner” prepares to sprint to 1st. It's all a part of the two week long Georgetown Cruisers' Regatta.
What else would you do when you are 'stuck' in Georgetown during Regatta Week except take in the festivities: coconut races (running with a partner with a coconut between your bodies~~no hands allowed), sailboat races, talent shows, softball games, dances, arts and crafts, sandcastle competitions, volleyball tournaments, scavenger hunts and more. Ah, visions of Pine Mountain Church Camp~~except we're not having a 'backwards day'. Here we are, truly 'stuck' in Georgetown: suffering through 70* temperatures, aquamarine water, and monotonously clear skies; 'stuck'... awaiting parts for the generator. Actually, we got the part yesterday, but it didn't do the trick. However, Customs was nice enough to charge us import duties: On a $60 part, they charged us $100 duties, plus duties on the cost of the expedited overnight Fed Ex package that took 5 days to arrive! It would have been cheaper and faster to fly to back to the states, get the part and return. Well, live and learn, they say.
'Coconut Race'
Clearly, in spite of the frustrations, being 'stuck' in Georgetown during the Regatta has it's good points. The Georgetown Cruiser Regatta is to cruisers what Margaritaville is for serious drinkers. It's where you want to be. In addition to sailboat races, it offers games for the kids, weather seminars, beach side church services, yoga classes and AA meetings(for Margaritaville burnouts). But almost everything has a family flavor. A young couple and their 7 or 8 year old daughter pulled alongside us in their dinghy last Sunday afternoon. They were on a scavenger hunt. They were looking for red things: such as a ketchup packet, a red high heel, a red feather boa~~all those things you have on-board in great abundance! We were able to help them out with the ketchup packet and a picture of Captain Jack Sparrow with his red bandanna.
But, back to that softball game, probably the best thing for me so far. What a hoot! The umpire (who had to be one of us, judging from the way he cheated for our team) wore a black suit, white shirt, black tie with his pants pulled up around the bottom of his suit jacket, revealing his white socks and his Keen sandals. When our team (the “Cruisers” ~~ called very loudly by a French-speaking woman sitting next to me the “Losers” (and she was on OUR side! Apparently a Toronto Blue Jays fan!) ~~ began to get way behind, the umpire started taking bribes from our team. When a bribe from the home team was not forthcoming, he would handicap them outrageously; like the way he made them bat left handed and called them out, taking away points when they hit a home-run! I don't know who was controlling the scoreboard, but when we would make a run, the score went up by 2 points. When the Bahamians made a run, nothing happened. It was reported the next day that the outcome of the game was still in dispute! The 'natives' however, are very gracious and I don't think it will go to the commissioner of baseball for a settlement.
Monday evening brought the talent show with a mixture of island and cruising people. A lack of talent didn't deter the performance of and enthusiasm for a wide range of skits, songs, and dance routines. As with the ball game, however, it seemed that most of the talent rested with the local Bahamians. Still, it was all great fun: reminiscent of church and summer camp. This whole thing is a fund raiser for the islanders regatta later this month.
Bahamian Dancers, Georgetown
Still 'stuck' is 'stuck'! With good company, wide ranging activities, a safe anchorage, free potable water and good provisioning, and a good excuse, it's hard to get 'unstuck'. We met a guy the other day who came to Georgetown last January, not intending to stay more than a few days. He's still here. In addition to waiting for stuff, attending whacky events and working on the boat, this time presents an opportunity to make new friends (and see old ones). There is definitively a sense of community here. Every morning volunteers host a 'Cruisernet' on the VHF radio. Weather, general information, announcements (like “the propane tanker will be arriving next Thursday or “the lower part of a bikini has been found; to be returned to its owner on Honeymoon Beach at 10:00 tonight, come alone.”), and advice sought and given regarding boat repairs, computer problems, etc. For example, based on an announcement, we started meeting with a group of people who, like us, plan to continue on south. We had a wonderful get together Thursday and plan to keep in touch by radio as we continue towards the Dominican Republic and Puerto Rico. There were probably 8 or 9 Americans, 3-4 Canadians, one Austrian and two couples from New Zealand. Its a really eclectic and representative group. It consists mostly of middle aged couples but some young people as well. It includes both rich and poor, experienced and inexperienced. Boats range from 70' custom built motor yachts to 29' 1970 era production sailboats. Common experience, interests and concerns bring all together. We share weather and route information and make sure we keep an eye on each other as we travel. We check in every night at 6:30 on the single side band radio (like a HAM radio). Among the most popular topics of discussion, other than where you have been and where you plan to go, is boat repairs and insurance, constant concerns.
Even though there's alot going on, in the absence of movie theaters, shopping malls, TV, 24 hour news, and the hectic pace of nearly every place else, we actually have time to read... like...books! ! I got really excited because we went to the library yesterday and I have 5 new books. We read constantly. All cruisers do, because you need a break from boat repairs! Anyway, all down any coast at any marina, yacht club, etc., you will find lending libraries where you bring in your old books and take whatever you want from the library. When you finish, you can exchange at your next port of call and get something new. It's just a way of sharing that works very well. And reading takes the edge off of being stuck.
Sunset from Our Anchorage off Honeymoon Beach
So all things considered, being 'stuck' isn't all that bad. We do need to get moving...but maybe we should stay just a little longer. You know, the Family Island Regatta starts here in a few weeks. I mean when will be get a chance to see that again!
What else would you do when you are 'stuck' in Georgetown during Regatta Week except take in the festivities: coconut races (running with a partner with a coconut between your bodies~~no hands allowed), sailboat races, talent shows, softball games, dances, arts and crafts, sandcastle competitions, volleyball tournaments, scavenger hunts and more. Ah, visions of Pine Mountain Church Camp~~except we're not having a 'backwards day'. Here we are, truly 'stuck' in Georgetown: suffering through 70* temperatures, aquamarine water, and monotonously clear skies; 'stuck'... awaiting parts for the generator. Actually, we got the part yesterday, but it didn't do the trick. However, Customs was nice enough to charge us import duties: On a $60 part, they charged us $100 duties, plus duties on the cost of the expedited overnight Fed Ex package that took 5 days to arrive! It would have been cheaper and faster to fly to back to the states, get the part and return. Well, live and learn, they say.
'Coconut Race'
Clearly, in spite of the frustrations, being 'stuck' in Georgetown during the Regatta has it's good points. The Georgetown Cruiser Regatta is to cruisers what Margaritaville is for serious drinkers. It's where you want to be. In addition to sailboat races, it offers games for the kids, weather seminars, beach side church services, yoga classes and AA meetings(for Margaritaville burnouts). But almost everything has a family flavor. A young couple and their 7 or 8 year old daughter pulled alongside us in their dinghy last Sunday afternoon. They were on a scavenger hunt. They were looking for red things: such as a ketchup packet, a red high heel, a red feather boa~~all those things you have on-board in great abundance! We were able to help them out with the ketchup packet and a picture of Captain Jack Sparrow with his red bandanna.
But, back to that softball game, probably the best thing for me so far. What a hoot! The umpire (who had to be one of us, judging from the way he cheated for our team) wore a black suit, white shirt, black tie with his pants pulled up around the bottom of his suit jacket, revealing his white socks and his Keen sandals. When our team (the “Cruisers” ~~ called very loudly by a French-speaking woman sitting next to me the “Losers” (and she was on OUR side! Apparently a Toronto Blue Jays fan!) ~~ began to get way behind, the umpire started taking bribes from our team. When a bribe from the home team was not forthcoming, he would handicap them outrageously; like the way he made them bat left handed and called them out, taking away points when they hit a home-run! I don't know who was controlling the scoreboard, but when we would make a run, the score went up by 2 points. When the Bahamians made a run, nothing happened. It was reported the next day that the outcome of the game was still in dispute! The 'natives' however, are very gracious and I don't think it will go to the commissioner of baseball for a settlement.
Monday evening brought the talent show with a mixture of island and cruising people. A lack of talent didn't deter the performance of and enthusiasm for a wide range of skits, songs, and dance routines. As with the ball game, however, it seemed that most of the talent rested with the local Bahamians. Still, it was all great fun: reminiscent of church and summer camp. This whole thing is a fund raiser for the islanders regatta later this month.
Bahamian Dancers, Georgetown
Still 'stuck' is 'stuck'! With good company, wide ranging activities, a safe anchorage, free potable water and good provisioning, and a good excuse, it's hard to get 'unstuck'. We met a guy the other day who came to Georgetown last January, not intending to stay more than a few days. He's still here. In addition to waiting for stuff, attending whacky events and working on the boat, this time presents an opportunity to make new friends (and see old ones). There is definitively a sense of community here. Every morning volunteers host a 'Cruisernet' on the VHF radio. Weather, general information, announcements (like “the propane tanker will be arriving next Thursday or “the lower part of a bikini has been found; to be returned to its owner on Honeymoon Beach at 10:00 tonight, come alone.”), and advice sought and given regarding boat repairs, computer problems, etc. For example, based on an announcement, we started meeting with a group of people who, like us, plan to continue on south. We had a wonderful get together Thursday and plan to keep in touch by radio as we continue towards the Dominican Republic and Puerto Rico. There were probably 8 or 9 Americans, 3-4 Canadians, one Austrian and two couples from New Zealand. Its a really eclectic and representative group. It consists mostly of middle aged couples but some young people as well. It includes both rich and poor, experienced and inexperienced. Boats range from 70' custom built motor yachts to 29' 1970 era production sailboats. Common experience, interests and concerns bring all together. We share weather and route information and make sure we keep an eye on each other as we travel. We check in every night at 6:30 on the single side band radio (like a HAM radio). Among the most popular topics of discussion, other than where you have been and where you plan to go, is boat repairs and insurance, constant concerns.
Even though there's alot going on, in the absence of movie theaters, shopping malls, TV, 24 hour news, and the hectic pace of nearly every place else, we actually have time to read... like...books! ! I got really excited because we went to the library yesterday and I have 5 new books. We read constantly. All cruisers do, because you need a break from boat repairs! Anyway, all down any coast at any marina, yacht club, etc., you will find lending libraries where you bring in your old books and take whatever you want from the library. When you finish, you can exchange at your next port of call and get something new. It's just a way of sharing that works very well. And reading takes the edge off of being stuck.
Sunset from Our Anchorage off Honeymoon Beach
So all things considered, being 'stuck' isn't all that bad. We do need to get moving...but maybe we should stay just a little longer. You know, the Family Island Regatta starts here in a few weeks. I mean when will be get a chance to see that again!
Hurry Up and Wait
Leaving our fellow 'Brunswickians' and the 'faint at heart' tied to the dock at the Nassau Harbour Club, we backed out of our slip at 8:00 am on February 18th, joining several other cruisers heading for the Exumas. Unlike our visit last year when the Bahamas was a primary destination, this time we saw it as a stepping stone to the Eastern Caribbean. Due to currents and the fact that Trade Winds are easterly and you need to go southeast to reach the islands (into the wind), the best way to reach the Eastern and Western Caribbean islands from the east coast of the United States is not the direct route. Instead, the 'Thorny Path', as it's called, takes you on clockwise from Florida's east coast riding favorable or at least light winds that follow the periodic cold fronts; hiding in protected harbors as the the next front approaches. Bruce Van Sant's A Gentleman's Guide to Passages South details what is generally considered the easiest way to get from Florida to Venezuela. However, it requires a clear understanding of the weather, how islands affect the wind and above all, patience.
We have tapped into many resources for understanding the weather and with a single side band radio have found many great sources for weather forecasting and passage advice (Chris Parker's broadcasts being the best). Patience, however, is a different matter. It must be an on-board resource. One axiom for cruisers maintains that 'the most dangerous thing on board a vessel is a schedule'. Understanding that is one thing, living it something else. Few of us can or even want to live without a schedule. Whether due to family ties, doctors appointments or other commitments, at some point we all have to be some specific place at some specific time. This fact pushes against that schedule axiom. Ken's need to get home (his volunteer enlistment was nearly up) and our need to get someplace where we could leave the boat while attending my father's 90th birthday in April kept us moving forward.
Contrary to our expectation or, rather, hope, we left the protected Nassau harbor into a 20 knot wind that stayed ESE. This put it right on our nose and made for a hobby horse, uncomfortable ride. We tried several times unsuccessfully to sail, changing our destination further south in an attempt to 'close haul' our way across the Yellow Bank with its dangerously scattered coral heads. Rather than Allens Cay and its large iguana population (the little monsters that had chased our niece Eleni off the beach last winter), we charted a more southerly course to Norman's Cay with its colorful drug running history. Of course, we could have tacked back and forth into the headwind like true sailors and eventually made it, but entering an unmarked, coral laden anchorage at night seemed like a bad idea. So, we raised the 'iron jenny' and bulled our way through moderate waves, anchoring in the lee of Norman's Cay around 3:00 pm. Even though the day was bright and warm, the skies clear and we successfully avoided hitting anything, we were happy when it was over.
Norman's Cay Anchorage
The wind moderated the next morning and moved a bit south of east, clocking as a cold front passed. We took a nice dinghy ride to the Exuma Sound side of the island, passing the sunken drug runners plane, and coming ashore on a beautiful, deserted beach just north of the Whale's Tale and North Compass Point. Ken, an experienced crater and scavenger, soon set up camp with all the comforts of home. We snorkeled along the reef and although we eventually found small nice spots, we were dismayed at the unhealthy appearance of most of the coral. Still, we had a great time, eating lunch alfresco and enjoying this beautiful crescent moon, powdered sugar beach. Our return trip took us through a shallow salt pond where, due a rough running engine and concern about low fuel, we (meaning Ken and I) began pulling the dinghy (the 'Commodore' remaining on board to provide motivation and advice). As scenes from the African Queen passed through my imagination, a lady in her dinghy passed us literally. Being an astute and conscientious person, she asked if we needed any help and offered a tow. We accepted. With Ken joining our Good Samaritan, Cindy, in her dinghy (after she made sure he cleaned the sand from his sandals – not only a conscientious, but a scrupulously neat Samaritan), we soon rounded Battery Point from where we easily motored back to Live Now. With the wind clocking the west, we upped anchor and moved between Norman's and Wax Cay, spending a comfortable evening amongst several other boats.
With the wind SW, we moved through Norman's Cut the next morning, heading to Cambridge Cay. Cambridge, a part of the Exuma National Land and Sea Park, offers some of the best snorkeling in the islands. We had an easy sail arriving at Bell Cut late in the afternoon. With the sun in our eyes, navigating past the corals heads that lie just inside the inlet proved challenging but we were soon anchored off Bell Island in 9 or 10 feet of water along with 3 other boats. The anchor dug deep into into clean sand and with the island to windward, we had an early cockpit dinner prepared by Chef Ken; the boat gently rocking in a steady 20 knot west wind.
The next morning we moved the boat to a mooring just off Cambridge Cay. The wind had moderated and Ken and I dinghied up to the 'Sea Aquarium', a favorite snorkeling spot. Tying up at a buoy provided by the park, we enjoyed the best snorkeling either of us had experienced. The fish, routinely fed by tourist, cluster around as you enter the water and follow you in schools as you explore this 20 foot wall of brightly colored, fantastically formed coral. We had ideal conditions with the small cay sheltering us from the wind and the sun shining brightly overhead. We picked up another snorkel buoy on our return trip and dove on anther plane wreck (do drug runners have flight insurance?), seeing fish large enough that one alone would have fed us for a week.
Galliot Cay Anchorage
The wind backed to the north and east as we dropped our mooring at Cambridge and headed back onto the Exuma Banks. The Exumas, being a narrow string of islands with numerous cuts provide a unique opportunity to almost always sail in the lee of the islands when the wind picks up. With the wind east and northeast, we moved to the west side of the chain and sailed quietly to our next stop, Staniel Cay. Staniel hosts several marinas, a couple of grocery stores, and a general store. It's the only place you can reasonably resupply on your way to Georgetown. We anchored behind Big Major Cay along with maybe 50 other boats. Ken and I had another great snorkeling experience diving the Thunderball Grotto (named after the 007 movie). With little chance of seeing Sean Connery, Pat stayed aboard Lived Now as Ken and I visited the cave in hopes of maybe finding a Bond girl or two hanging out. That hope went unfulfilled but the snorkeling proved fabulous. Entering the grotto is almost unworldly as light streaming from a hole in the limestone ceiling pierces the blue water, highlighting iridescent coral and schools of tropical fish. Ken discovered a nurse shark resting on the bottom that must have been 9 or 10 feet long! Rooms and corridors off the grotto offer other delights with spiny sea urchins, damsel fish and angel fish, snapper, parrot fish and conch a foot in diameter.
Returning to the boat, we all dinghied onto the beach at Big Majors to be greeted by Spot, the wild pig. Years ago, a number of pigs and few goats were left on this unoccupied island. Visiting cruisers over the years bringing treats of fruit and vegetables quickly taught the pigs to welcome visitors, even swimming out to the boats as they approach. Our gift of an orange couldn't compete with the apparently more enticing bananas brought by another visitor, but Spot eventually consumed it much like a reluctant child finishes her vegetables (but only after Pat peeled it however!).
Spot the Pig
The Staniel Cay Yacht Club serves great meals and the three of us feasted on lobster, fresh snapper and steak (Pat being a non-fish eater). Excellent! Our leisurely dinner meant a dark dinghy ride back to the boat. No moon and an overcast night merged water, land and sky into a black as deep and dark as the inside of a whale! We only had to round Big Major, about a one mile to our north and keep the island to our starboard. We couldn't help but run into Live Now. I had even remembered to leave our anchor light on in anticipation of an evening return and we carried a flashlight. The wind had picked up and the tide was flowing as we confidently set out from the dock. With nothing to orient us and with the wind and tide pushing swiftly away from land, we apparently and very quickly blew by the anchorage. We did see anchor lights to our right but thinking to ourselves that we they were too close on we ran until reaching the opposite side of cove and reaching the obvious conclusion that we had missed the anchorage entirely. But, reversing our direction and with the lights to guide us, we soon arrived back at our boat. Ken thought we had missed the anchorage by a mile, but as usual, he exaggerated. In the morning, I checked and we had overshot the anchorage by only .9 of a mile!
Monday morning, the 23rd, we once again weighed anchor and continued down the Banks. Another great sailing day ended at another great anchorage, this time just off a beautiful beach behind Galliot Cay. The wind had been blowing up to 25 knots with higher gusts for several days. While this made for a terrific sailing in the lee of the cays, it also made an exit through the cuts untenable. With a 5.5' draft, we could not go much further south on the Exuma Banks side due to shallow water. We had to wait for the wind to either drop or shift before we could enter the Exuma Sound and proceed to Georgetown. We spent the next several days waiting here and at Cave Cay. Both spots were beautiful and Cave Cay offered fantastic snorkeling, but the delay had already caused Ken to miss his doctors appointment and without being able to communicate with the outside world, we worried that others may be anxious for our safety. As sure as the tides, however, we knew that the wind would eventually cooperate. On Friday, the 27th, we finally felt confident to run Cave Cay Cut. The wind was still out of the east but had dropped to less than 15 knots. Nevertheless, we still expected and got 6 foot waves and confused seas with a lee shore. Cave Cay Cut proved to be one of the easiest but we had a rocky ride down the coast. To complicate matters, we continued to have steering problems. In investigating why the auto-helm couldn't hold our course, I discovered a worn 'key' in key-way of the rudder post. when the auto-helm couldn't hold our course. This allowed the steering arm, when under strain, to slip a bit on the rudder post – not a good thing. Tightening the collar that attaches the steering arm to the post once again gave us full control but clearly something that needed attention soon.
Worry over the steering hampered our sojourn to Georgetown, particularly with the wind now blowing over 20 knots out of the ENE. We expected to see rough water entering Conch Cay Cut, the inlet into Elizabeth Harbour and Georgetown. However, timing our entrance with a slack tide mitigated the turbulence and we had no problems negotiating our way into this much feared but straight forward cut. There are reefs just inside and just south of the Cut necessitating a zigzag run, but good way points and diligent 'eyeballing' the water got us to anchor just off Kidd Cove in time for dinner at the Peace & Plenty Hotel.
Sunset Georgetown
We are not alone. Three hundred and fifty boats grace Georgetown as it gears up for the annual Cruisers Regatta. This is THE social event of the year for cruising sailors in the Bahamas. Completely volunteer-run, the Regatta sponsors volleyball, golf and tennis tournaments, sand castle competition, sail boat races , Cruiser Vs Bahamian baseball game, seminars, talent shows and nutty competitions – like, coconuts relays. Unfortunately Ken had to leave us. I can't thank him enough for his help. Joining us in Brunswick Georgia, he persevered our travails down the freezing and shallow ICW, night passages in below freezing weather, a 20 knot headwind slog across the Yellow Banks, and a seemingly endless wait for favorable winds (concurrent with the break down of our generator and the attendant loss of cold beverages). As he did last year, Ken greatly aided us in our effort to get the boat from Point A to Point B. Keeping the boat moving is not a vacation, particularly as this is the time when previously little or unused systems on the boat break down. Pat and I really appreciate Ken's help and look forward to when he and hopefully, Cindy, can joins us when we have no place to go and no schedule to keep. Thanks Ken!
Now, again, we wait. We wait for a generator part and we wait for weather. We must time our departure for after we get everything fixed and just after a passing cold front. From here we head toward Long Island Cay, Rum Cay, Mayaguana, Provo in the Turks & Caicos, then the Dominican Republic where, most likely, we'll leave the boat and return to the States for a brief visit to celebrate my father's birthday.
We have tapped into many resources for understanding the weather and with a single side band radio have found many great sources for weather forecasting and passage advice (Chris Parker's broadcasts being the best). Patience, however, is a different matter. It must be an on-board resource. One axiom for cruisers maintains that 'the most dangerous thing on board a vessel is a schedule'. Understanding that is one thing, living it something else. Few of us can or even want to live without a schedule. Whether due to family ties, doctors appointments or other commitments, at some point we all have to be some specific place at some specific time. This fact pushes against that schedule axiom. Ken's need to get home (his volunteer enlistment was nearly up) and our need to get someplace where we could leave the boat while attending my father's 90th birthday in April kept us moving forward.
Contrary to our expectation or, rather, hope, we left the protected Nassau harbor into a 20 knot wind that stayed ESE. This put it right on our nose and made for a hobby horse, uncomfortable ride. We tried several times unsuccessfully to sail, changing our destination further south in an attempt to 'close haul' our way across the Yellow Bank with its dangerously scattered coral heads. Rather than Allens Cay and its large iguana population (the little monsters that had chased our niece Eleni off the beach last winter), we charted a more southerly course to Norman's Cay with its colorful drug running history. Of course, we could have tacked back and forth into the headwind like true sailors and eventually made it, but entering an unmarked, coral laden anchorage at night seemed like a bad idea. So, we raised the 'iron jenny' and bulled our way through moderate waves, anchoring in the lee of Norman's Cay around 3:00 pm. Even though the day was bright and warm, the skies clear and we successfully avoided hitting anything, we were happy when it was over.
Norman's Cay Anchorage
The wind moderated the next morning and moved a bit south of east, clocking as a cold front passed. We took a nice dinghy ride to the Exuma Sound side of the island, passing the sunken drug runners plane, and coming ashore on a beautiful, deserted beach just north of the Whale's Tale and North Compass Point. Ken, an experienced crater and scavenger, soon set up camp with all the comforts of home. We snorkeled along the reef and although we eventually found small nice spots, we were dismayed at the unhealthy appearance of most of the coral. Still, we had a great time, eating lunch alfresco and enjoying this beautiful crescent moon, powdered sugar beach. Our return trip took us through a shallow salt pond where, due a rough running engine and concern about low fuel, we (meaning Ken and I) began pulling the dinghy (the 'Commodore' remaining on board to provide motivation and advice). As scenes from the African Queen passed through my imagination, a lady in her dinghy passed us literally. Being an astute and conscientious person, she asked if we needed any help and offered a tow. We accepted. With Ken joining our Good Samaritan, Cindy, in her dinghy (after she made sure he cleaned the sand from his sandals – not only a conscientious, but a scrupulously neat Samaritan), we soon rounded Battery Point from where we easily motored back to Live Now. With the wind clocking the west, we upped anchor and moved between Norman's and Wax Cay, spending a comfortable evening amongst several other boats.
With the wind SW, we moved through Norman's Cut the next morning, heading to Cambridge Cay. Cambridge, a part of the Exuma National Land and Sea Park, offers some of the best snorkeling in the islands. We had an easy sail arriving at Bell Cut late in the afternoon. With the sun in our eyes, navigating past the corals heads that lie just inside the inlet proved challenging but we were soon anchored off Bell Island in 9 or 10 feet of water along with 3 other boats. The anchor dug deep into into clean sand and with the island to windward, we had an early cockpit dinner prepared by Chef Ken; the boat gently rocking in a steady 20 knot west wind.
The next morning we moved the boat to a mooring just off Cambridge Cay. The wind had moderated and Ken and I dinghied up to the 'Sea Aquarium', a favorite snorkeling spot. Tying up at a buoy provided by the park, we enjoyed the best snorkeling either of us had experienced. The fish, routinely fed by tourist, cluster around as you enter the water and follow you in schools as you explore this 20 foot wall of brightly colored, fantastically formed coral. We had ideal conditions with the small cay sheltering us from the wind and the sun shining brightly overhead. We picked up another snorkel buoy on our return trip and dove on anther plane wreck (do drug runners have flight insurance?), seeing fish large enough that one alone would have fed us for a week.
Galliot Cay Anchorage
The wind backed to the north and east as we dropped our mooring at Cambridge and headed back onto the Exuma Banks. The Exumas, being a narrow string of islands with numerous cuts provide a unique opportunity to almost always sail in the lee of the islands when the wind picks up. With the wind east and northeast, we moved to the west side of the chain and sailed quietly to our next stop, Staniel Cay. Staniel hosts several marinas, a couple of grocery stores, and a general store. It's the only place you can reasonably resupply on your way to Georgetown. We anchored behind Big Major Cay along with maybe 50 other boats. Ken and I had another great snorkeling experience diving the Thunderball Grotto (named after the 007 movie). With little chance of seeing Sean Connery, Pat stayed aboard Lived Now as Ken and I visited the cave in hopes of maybe finding a Bond girl or two hanging out. That hope went unfulfilled but the snorkeling proved fabulous. Entering the grotto is almost unworldly as light streaming from a hole in the limestone ceiling pierces the blue water, highlighting iridescent coral and schools of tropical fish. Ken discovered a nurse shark resting on the bottom that must have been 9 or 10 feet long! Rooms and corridors off the grotto offer other delights with spiny sea urchins, damsel fish and angel fish, snapper, parrot fish and conch a foot in diameter.
Returning to the boat, we all dinghied onto the beach at Big Majors to be greeted by Spot, the wild pig. Years ago, a number of pigs and few goats were left on this unoccupied island. Visiting cruisers over the years bringing treats of fruit and vegetables quickly taught the pigs to welcome visitors, even swimming out to the boats as they approach. Our gift of an orange couldn't compete with the apparently more enticing bananas brought by another visitor, but Spot eventually consumed it much like a reluctant child finishes her vegetables (but only after Pat peeled it however!).
Spot the Pig
The Staniel Cay Yacht Club serves great meals and the three of us feasted on lobster, fresh snapper and steak (Pat being a non-fish eater). Excellent! Our leisurely dinner meant a dark dinghy ride back to the boat. No moon and an overcast night merged water, land and sky into a black as deep and dark as the inside of a whale! We only had to round Big Major, about a one mile to our north and keep the island to our starboard. We couldn't help but run into Live Now. I had even remembered to leave our anchor light on in anticipation of an evening return and we carried a flashlight. The wind had picked up and the tide was flowing as we confidently set out from the dock. With nothing to orient us and with the wind and tide pushing swiftly away from land, we apparently and very quickly blew by the anchorage. We did see anchor lights to our right but thinking to ourselves that we they were too close on we ran until reaching the opposite side of cove and reaching the obvious conclusion that we had missed the anchorage entirely. But, reversing our direction and with the lights to guide us, we soon arrived back at our boat. Ken thought we had missed the anchorage by a mile, but as usual, he exaggerated. In the morning, I checked and we had overshot the anchorage by only .9 of a mile!
Monday morning, the 23rd, we once again weighed anchor and continued down the Banks. Another great sailing day ended at another great anchorage, this time just off a beautiful beach behind Galliot Cay. The wind had been blowing up to 25 knots with higher gusts for several days. While this made for a terrific sailing in the lee of the cays, it also made an exit through the cuts untenable. With a 5.5' draft, we could not go much further south on the Exuma Banks side due to shallow water. We had to wait for the wind to either drop or shift before we could enter the Exuma Sound and proceed to Georgetown. We spent the next several days waiting here and at Cave Cay. Both spots were beautiful and Cave Cay offered fantastic snorkeling, but the delay had already caused Ken to miss his doctors appointment and without being able to communicate with the outside world, we worried that others may be anxious for our safety. As sure as the tides, however, we knew that the wind would eventually cooperate. On Friday, the 27th, we finally felt confident to run Cave Cay Cut. The wind was still out of the east but had dropped to less than 15 knots. Nevertheless, we still expected and got 6 foot waves and confused seas with a lee shore. Cave Cay Cut proved to be one of the easiest but we had a rocky ride down the coast. To complicate matters, we continued to have steering problems. In investigating why the auto-helm couldn't hold our course, I discovered a worn 'key' in key-way of the rudder post. when the auto-helm couldn't hold our course. This allowed the steering arm, when under strain, to slip a bit on the rudder post – not a good thing. Tightening the collar that attaches the steering arm to the post once again gave us full control but clearly something that needed attention soon.
Worry over the steering hampered our sojourn to Georgetown, particularly with the wind now blowing over 20 knots out of the ENE. We expected to see rough water entering Conch Cay Cut, the inlet into Elizabeth Harbour and Georgetown. However, timing our entrance with a slack tide mitigated the turbulence and we had no problems negotiating our way into this much feared but straight forward cut. There are reefs just inside and just south of the Cut necessitating a zigzag run, but good way points and diligent 'eyeballing' the water got us to anchor just off Kidd Cove in time for dinner at the Peace & Plenty Hotel.
Sunset Georgetown
We are not alone. Three hundred and fifty boats grace Georgetown as it gears up for the annual Cruisers Regatta. This is THE social event of the year for cruising sailors in the Bahamas. Completely volunteer-run, the Regatta sponsors volleyball, golf and tennis tournaments, sand castle competition, sail boat races , Cruiser Vs Bahamian baseball game, seminars, talent shows and nutty competitions – like, coconuts relays. Unfortunately Ken had to leave us. I can't thank him enough for his help. Joining us in Brunswick Georgia, he persevered our travails down the freezing and shallow ICW, night passages in below freezing weather, a 20 knot headwind slog across the Yellow Banks, and a seemingly endless wait for favorable winds (concurrent with the break down of our generator and the attendant loss of cold beverages). As he did last year, Ken greatly aided us in our effort to get the boat from Point A to Point B. Keeping the boat moving is not a vacation, particularly as this is the time when previously little or unused systems on the boat break down. Pat and I really appreciate Ken's help and look forward to when he and hopefully, Cindy, can joins us when we have no place to go and no schedule to keep. Thanks Ken!
Now, again, we wait. We wait for a generator part and we wait for weather. We must time our departure for after we get everything fixed and just after a passing cold front. From here we head toward Long Island Cay, Rum Cay, Mayaguana, Provo in the Turks & Caicos, then the Dominican Republic where, most likely, we'll leave the boat and return to the States for a brief visit to celebrate my father's birthday.
What Nassau
Comfortably ensconced in our slip at the Nassau Harbour Club, we took full advantage of their meager but adequate facilities (they had showers). Immediately we met some fellow travelers from the Brunswick Landing Marina where we had stayed during the storm and holiday seasons, none of whom we had previously met. They had been in Nassau for several days waiting for a good weather window to head toward the Exumas. All were there when we left.
The Harbour Club sits just across the street from a shopping center that includes a hardware store, Radio Shack, Starbucks (with wifi), KFC, a drug store, a bank, a liquor store, a modern grocery store, a home store, and more. Anyone from the U.S. would be comforted by the familiar array of stores, compromised only by the requirement to be ‘buzzed into’ some retail stores, including the liquor store and any store selling electronic equipment. Apparently, these steel barred stores are at risk of robbery and you have to press a door bell and be visually checked out before entering. The whole process seems at odds with the sense of safety you feel otherwise. None of our several visits to Nassau have caused us any safety concern. The string of islands that make up the Exumas are nearly devoid of provisioning sources (including potable water). What you bring is what you have until you reach Staniel Cay, about a 2 day sail. So, the shopping center and other supporting infrastructure provide a welcome and last opportunity to stock up.
Nassau presents a unique and contrasting picture of the Bahamas. This is the primary Bahamas destination for cruise ships and the streets are filled with tourists from all over the world. Most, however, see only the Disney-like Atlantis Resort on Paradise Island and the old colonial section across the harbor; home to Government House, Straw Market and picturesque Bay Street. As you stroll down this busy retail palisade with its colonial two-story balconied buildings, you have your choice of high end jewelry (from Cartier and the like), fine LLadro porcelain figurines, Cuban cigars and duty free rum. The winding, covered Straw Market offers a combination of native crafts items and the usual cheap made-in- china tourist offerings of t-shirts, carved wooden knick-knacks, shell & bead bracelets and baseball caps.
Government House Nassau
Busy Bay Street
Obama T-Shirts at the Straw Market
Two blocks over presents a more subdued picture. Quiet streets, rundown shops, weather beaten homes give an impression not of hopeless poverty but certainly not affluence in the U.S. sense (poverty being relative). You see few, if any, panhandlers or homeless (certainly not like Providence RI where I was approached daily on my way to and from the office and saw people sleeping outside routinely in all weather). And, you definitively don’t get a sense of ghetto with its palpable, barely suppressed anger. On our last visit, Pat and I took the public bus (fare, $1.25) and toured the island. The crowded bus gave us a chance to meet and talk with several locals (nothing like obviously not knowing what you’re doing to bring out the best in others) and see how most of the island lives. The general impression we got was one of a generally good natured, unobtrusively friendly people, joking with each other, and complaining about the same things we all complain about: prices, weather, government, “kids today”. When asked about crime, we got variations on one of two responses: there is no crime or all crime is committed by illegal immigrants, i.e., Haitians. Although most cruisers avoid stopping here if they can, we've always enjoyed our visits with its services and interesting contrasts.
So, with the weather window firmly closed for at least a day (a passing front brought strong SE winds putting it right on our nose for reaching the Exumas), Pat and I introduced Ken to Nassau. After checking emails at Starbucks and doing some shopping, we took the bus downtown. We toured the Straw Market where Ken skillfully bargained for T-Shirts (I think they were “buy 2 @ $5/each and get one free”. Ken got them down to 3 for $10). Coming out of the Straw Market we needed to find a restroom and found ourselves seated at Senor Frog’s Mexican Restaurant, on the waterfront. After we ordered drinks, cruise ship passengers filled the Karaoke infused air with something less than a sober rendition of “Light My Fire” or something like it. We looked at each other and quickly agreed that this was one Bahamian experience we could do without. We finished our drinks, left and walked one block over to a less touristy place and had a wonderful lunch of fresh red snapper, peas & rice, and salad for $10 (probably the best meal bargain in the Bahamas – my beer at Frogs alone was $5).
We spent the rest of the day finalizing our preparation for heading to the Exumas. Ken met an Australian couple on a boat on the next dock that entered the harbor just after us. They were surprised at the warm welcome they received by Harbour Control compared to that which they overheard on the radio when we entered. The admittedly short, commanding tone taken with us contrasted sharply with the “Welcome, welcome to our island, what can we do for you!” that they experienced (we were boarded by two officials in a process that took over an hour while they weren’t boarded at all and were given an end dock – easier docking Vs our less convenient head-in slip in which another boat was already parked). Not that anyone was hostile (I wouldn’t have even commented on our treatment if not pointed out), just that, I guess, familiarity with Americans breeds something less than warmth. Mostly, our experience with officialdom and Nassau retail service personnel could be characterized as “manner of fact”. Still, our Nassau visit enabled us to fill our larder and we went to bed early to catch a slack tide for our exit to our next stop. The forecast made our departure look doable but probably not comfortable. If we didn’t leave tomorrow, however, we faced getting stuck in Nassau for several days. Ominously, most of our fellow cruisers planned on waiting.
The Harbour Club sits just across the street from a shopping center that includes a hardware store, Radio Shack, Starbucks (with wifi), KFC, a drug store, a bank, a liquor store, a modern grocery store, a home store, and more. Anyone from the U.S. would be comforted by the familiar array of stores, compromised only by the requirement to be ‘buzzed into’ some retail stores, including the liquor store and any store selling electronic equipment. Apparently, these steel barred stores are at risk of robbery and you have to press a door bell and be visually checked out before entering. The whole process seems at odds with the sense of safety you feel otherwise. None of our several visits to Nassau have caused us any safety concern. The string of islands that make up the Exumas are nearly devoid of provisioning sources (including potable water). What you bring is what you have until you reach Staniel Cay, about a 2 day sail. So, the shopping center and other supporting infrastructure provide a welcome and last opportunity to stock up.
Nassau presents a unique and contrasting picture of the Bahamas. This is the primary Bahamas destination for cruise ships and the streets are filled with tourists from all over the world. Most, however, see only the Disney-like Atlantis Resort on Paradise Island and the old colonial section across the harbor; home to Government House, Straw Market and picturesque Bay Street. As you stroll down this busy retail palisade with its colonial two-story balconied buildings, you have your choice of high end jewelry (from Cartier and the like), fine LLadro porcelain figurines, Cuban cigars and duty free rum. The winding, covered Straw Market offers a combination of native crafts items and the usual cheap made-in- china tourist offerings of t-shirts, carved wooden knick-knacks, shell & bead bracelets and baseball caps.
Government House Nassau
Busy Bay Street
Obama T-Shirts at the Straw Market
Two blocks over presents a more subdued picture. Quiet streets, rundown shops, weather beaten homes give an impression not of hopeless poverty but certainly not affluence in the U.S. sense (poverty being relative). You see few, if any, panhandlers or homeless (certainly not like Providence RI where I was approached daily on my way to and from the office and saw people sleeping outside routinely in all weather). And, you definitively don’t get a sense of ghetto with its palpable, barely suppressed anger. On our last visit, Pat and I took the public bus (fare, $1.25) and toured the island. The crowded bus gave us a chance to meet and talk with several locals (nothing like obviously not knowing what you’re doing to bring out the best in others) and see how most of the island lives. The general impression we got was one of a generally good natured, unobtrusively friendly people, joking with each other, and complaining about the same things we all complain about: prices, weather, government, “kids today”. When asked about crime, we got variations on one of two responses: there is no crime or all crime is committed by illegal immigrants, i.e., Haitians. Although most cruisers avoid stopping here if they can, we've always enjoyed our visits with its services and interesting contrasts.
So, with the weather window firmly closed for at least a day (a passing front brought strong SE winds putting it right on our nose for reaching the Exumas), Pat and I introduced Ken to Nassau. After checking emails at Starbucks and doing some shopping, we took the bus downtown. We toured the Straw Market where Ken skillfully bargained for T-Shirts (I think they were “buy 2 @ $5/each and get one free”. Ken got them down to 3 for $10). Coming out of the Straw Market we needed to find a restroom and found ourselves seated at Senor Frog’s Mexican Restaurant, on the waterfront. After we ordered drinks, cruise ship passengers filled the Karaoke infused air with something less than a sober rendition of “Light My Fire” or something like it. We looked at each other and quickly agreed that this was one Bahamian experience we could do without. We finished our drinks, left and walked one block over to a less touristy place and had a wonderful lunch of fresh red snapper, peas & rice, and salad for $10 (probably the best meal bargain in the Bahamas – my beer at Frogs alone was $5).
We spent the rest of the day finalizing our preparation for heading to the Exumas. Ken met an Australian couple on a boat on the next dock that entered the harbor just after us. They were surprised at the warm welcome they received by Harbour Control compared to that which they overheard on the radio when we entered. The admittedly short, commanding tone taken with us contrasted sharply with the “Welcome, welcome to our island, what can we do for you!” that they experienced (we were boarded by two officials in a process that took over an hour while they weren’t boarded at all and were given an end dock – easier docking Vs our less convenient head-in slip in which another boat was already parked). Not that anyone was hostile (I wouldn’t have even commented on our treatment if not pointed out), just that, I guess, familiarity with Americans breeds something less than warmth. Mostly, our experience with officialdom and Nassau retail service personnel could be characterized as “manner of fact”. Still, our Nassau visit enabled us to fill our larder and we went to bed early to catch a slack tide for our exit to our next stop. The forecast made our departure look doable but probably not comfortable. If we didn’t leave tomorrow, however, we faced getting stuck in Nassau for several days. Ominously, most of our fellow cruisers planned on waiting.
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