Monday April 25th - Friday April 29th: Governor's Harbor to Spanish Wells

     What a beautiful week we've had exploring central and Northern Eleuthera.  This long island has some of the prettiest places and some of the nicest people we've encountered so far in the Bahamas.  The island is close to 100 miles long, and at its widest it's 5 miles wide.  In some places it's less than 1/2 mile wide.  The Western side has a mainly rocky coast and that is where the towns and their harbors are.  The Eastern side is reefs and beaches.  Cruisers tend to favor the Western side, and that is where we spent most of our time.
     Our next stop after Rock Sound was Governor's Harbor.  This was once where the Governor of the Bahamas lived, and the affluence that comes with such residence is still apparent in the colorful Victorian houses with landscaped lawns.  There are many part time residents here who have houses in the US and in Europe.  The old Club Med is now an exclusive marina village that can accommodate mega yachts two at a time.  Dan and I spent several hours walking through town.  We also walked up over the spine of the center of Eleuthera to the beach on the Atlantic side.  We didn't bother with the shops - their signs touting importing "resort ware" and duty-free perfumes.  Not the kind of thing we're interested in, but it does tell you who this town caters to.

Wille Dawes and tender at Governor's Harbor.

Atlantic beach, Governor's Harbor.  Note the pinkish sand - Eleuthera is known for it.

Stop or yield?  Yield & stop?  They do have normal stop signs too.

Stone steps leading to one of the houses.  See the steep angle of the street.

Haynes Library, Governor's Harbor.  

     After Governor's Harbor we traveled about ten miles up the coast to another little town, this one much, much different.  Alice Town, in Hatchet Bay, proclaims itself the "nation's safest harbor."  In one regard, this is probably true.  The small, well-protected harbor has a narrow, man-made entrance and one can probably ride out a hurricane without worry here.  However, the holding is dubious due to the collection of debris (old pilings, sunken vessels) and this is pretty much a reflection of the town.   There is a brand-new dinghy dock leading to a small town crowded with very colorful houses, but on closer examination you see the abandoned dinghies tied to the new wharf, broken fences and shutters on the houses, and trash strewn everywhere.  It's as if Alice Town has given up on trying to keep tidy.

A supply boat navigates the narrow entrance/exit to Hatchet Bay

     Here in the harbor we met up with our friends Leigh and Brian on Presence-ing.  They'd been here for a couple of nights and were filled with suggestions.  We invited them to dinner aboard the Willie.  Over over chicken on the grill and the fresh salad they brought, they told us about a nearby pond with seahorses and farther down the road, the entrance to an extensive run of caves.  Leigh also mentioned an organic farm stand where she'd purchased handpicked arugula.  Sounded good, we thought.  On Wednesday Presence-ing took off to pick up guests farther up the coast, and Dan and I went to town to begin what we thought would be short walk to the pond to see the seahorses.
     We walked through the town and beyond, and walked.  And walked.  By now we'd understood that the Bahamas doesn't really advertise its sites, and we didn't expect to see any You-Are-Here signs or a billboard proclaiming the wonders of this pond, but we did expect to see something that led to it.
     We walked single file down the main highway, taking in scrubby fields on both sides, noting the abandoned silos that are remnants of when someone thought this part of Eleuthera would make a good cattle farm.  (Eleuthera, unlike much of the Bahamas, does have plenty of fresh water, but apparently not enough to sustain the vegetation and the cattle.  The venture didn't last long.)  We finally spotted what looked like a very large pond, and started down a dirt track that led to it.  A few mosquitoes, what looked like a construction dump site, and we were at the rocky ledge that overlooked the water.  If there were seahorses, we didn't see them.  Maybe this wasn't it, we thought, so we backtracked to the main road and kept going until we found another dirt track to the water.  This one didn't go all the way to the water, and neither of us felt like bushwhacking, so we thought, one more time.  We walked to the next dirt track, absurdly guarded by stone pillars and headed down into a grassy field that ended well short of any water, but there was a sort of sign.  Dan's first thought was that this was an abandoned housing project.  I walked over to the sign and called back to him "We've walked to the caves."  This was the entrance.

Abandoned silos.

Entrance to the Hatchet Bay Caves.

     We hadn't planned to go to, let alone into the caves, and didn't have flashlights, so we only descended into the first cave where there was still some light to see.  This apparently was an archaeological find - a burial site for the Lucayan natives that once lived here - but it has been extensively vandalized.  Stalagtites and stalagmites have long been broken off and there was a lot of graffiti.  Pretty sad to see, but not unexpected.  There isn't money or staff to take care of such places.
     The way back to Alice Town was long and hot.  We were within the town borders when a kind soul picked us up and offered us a ride back to the dock.  He saved us about five minutes of walking, but we were grateful.  We stopped at the little grocery store for a chicken to roast for supper, and headed back to the boat.
     Dan looked at a map and informed me we'd walked over five miles that morning, and though we'd found the caves, we had missed the pond.  The large body of water we'd seen was about a half mile beyond the little one with seahorses.
     We decided we'd seen enough of Alice Town, so we weighed anchor and went a few more miles North and anchored off a little beach.  Here we jumped in for some snorkeling.  After our long, hot walk, the cool water was very welcoming.  We saw baby jellyfish and a couple of very large puffer fish hiding out under the ledges.  It's such a wonder to us that no matter how much we snorkel, we see something new.
     Thursday we left the main island of Eleuthera and traveled through Current Cut up to Spanish Wells.  Spanish Wells is a very popular town with tourists, but not so exclusively affluent as Governor's Harbor.  This place is Bahama's fishing capital; 90% of the lobsters caught in this country are caught by fishermen who live here.  Lobstering is over until the end of summer, but the fishermen are busy with charters, taking small groups of people offshore to catch mahi-mahi, wahoo, and tuna.  The town is a cluster of businesses, natives, and rental cottages, and all the people we've encountered here have been very friendly.  The locals all have a sort of British lilt to their speech - we've not really noticed such an accent before.

Cape Cod cat boat in Spanish Wells.

Some of the fishing fleet in Spanish Wells.

     Thursday afternoon we temporarily anchored off the Atlantic side of Eleuthera to snorkel an ocean reef.  The water was deeper than we are used to, so it was hard to dive to the bottom to examine shells or ledges more closely.  We saw a few new things here - ocean trigger fish, a spotted trigger fish, and black grouper.  We also saw a school of squid.  I reminded Dan that hammerhead sharks like to feed on squid, so we kept a wary eye out, but fortunately didn't see any of those nasty predators.  We snorkeled until we were chilled, there was so much to see.
     We moved the boat to the other side of Spanish Wells, anchoring with several other cruisers for the night.  Friday morning (this morning) we went into town for a good walk around and to make use of the local wi-fi.  Tomorrow we're planning to cross up to the Abacos.  It's a fifty mile run, and will take us all day.
   
     

Saturday and Sunday April 23 & 24: Rock Sound, Eleuthera

     Saturday morning we were up early, intent on making the crossing to Eleuthera today.  The winds had died down in the night, but the big question was how active were the seas on the Sound?  We wouldn’t know until we got out there.  Neither of us wanted to have to turn back, but crashing headlong into rolling waves for thirty miles didn’t sound like fun either.  We scurried around getting ready for a possibly rough crossing.

     It wasn’t the calmest sea we’ve ever crossed, but it wasn’t too rough either.  By nine in the morning we were well on our way, and Dan set up the fishing lines.  Ever the hopeful fisherman.  Shortly thereafter he hooked a mahi-mahi.  Now, we’ve not had the best luck, and people near and far have been giving us all sorts of advice, from what kind of bait, to what kind of lure, to how to let the fish play.

     This fish wasn’t in the mood to be pulled in, and quickly gave a great yank and spit out the hook.  “We know they’re out there.”  Dan said resignedly.  At least we didn’t lose any gear.

     The fishing rods remained active for several more hours.  When we were in sight of Eleuthera, we got another bite.  This time we’d let the fish drag some, tire him out, we thought.  Forty minutes later he was still fighting.  Eventually he seemed quieter and Dan began to reel him in.  Slowly.  The fish would give a great jerk and Dan stop.  Then the reel broke on the fishing rod, and the fish took advantage of the sudden slack, spit the hook and left.  After all that, no fish for dinner, and a broken reel to boot.  I won’t repeat what Dan said then.

     We got in to Rock Sound, a pretty little town with a big white Anglican church right on the beach in front of the anchorage, about three-thirty.  The guide book told of cruiser-friendly businesses, multiple opportunities for provisioning, and free water.  There was also a large blue hole park to visit.  Today was Saturday, and most everything would close at five, not to open up again until Monday.  So we quickly got our act together and got into the dinghy to go find the grocery store and at least get our shopping done, but we were unsure which grocery store was the best one to go to.  Sometimes what is listed as a grocery store is a small place with a few cans on the shelves and a bin of sweet potatoes or plantains.

St. Luke's Anglican Church.  On the beach and literally on the road.  One of 15 churches in this small town.

     We dinghied over to the next boat, a Cadley Crogan cruiser named Erben Renewal we’d seen before.  We met Julia, who told us her opinion of the better grocery store.  She was awaiting her husband Steve who was off snorkeling;  she needed milk, she said, but it could wait if Steve didn’t return in time to get to the grocery store.  We thanked her and headed for the appropriate access dock for the Rock Sound Market.  

     The grocery store occupies a small strip mall along with a hardware store.  We ducked into the hardware store first and headed over to the fishing section to check out lures and hooks.  A man came up behind us, joking “Leave some for me.”  He and Dan struck up a conversation, with Dan telling him our fish stories, and he offering his advice.  Introductions were made, boat cards exchanged - turns out this was Steve from Erben Renewal.  Erben is their last name.  “Your wife thinks you are snorkeling.”  Dan joked, and then told him to bring home some milk.  Steve told us to drop by the boat on our way back to the Willie, that he would give us some mahi-mahi for supper from their freezer.  

     Well stocked with groceries, we did stop by Erben Renewal and Julia gave us a small bag of frozen fish - enough for two meals.  “You’re doing us a favor.”  She assured us, saying they had too much fish in their freezer.  We had fish for dinner after all.  They also shared with us some corn a local had given them from his farm, but it was too tough to eat.  Nevertheless, we had a feast for dinner, and yet more advice about fishing.  Steve said not to slow the boat down too much, and not to give the fish much play at all.  The guy at the hardware store also told Dan that mahi-mahi change color from bright blue to gray when they are all tired out. Maybe next time we’ll get one aboard the boat, and then we can be the people sharing with other cruisers.

     Sunday we went into town mid-morning to walk around and check out the blue hole park.  We brought along a baggy of the shucked corn from last night’s meal.  The guide book said it was ok to feed the fish in the blue hole.  The day was sunny and already quite warm and humid.  

     Rock Sound is a small but busy town with many different churches and several small businesses.  The churches would be open soon, but most of the businesses would remain closed all day.  We found the public water spigot where Dan would return later to fill our water jugs, and walked down to the blue hole park.  If we didn’t understand about blue holes (deep pools of ocean water with access to the ocean itself) we would have thought this was a quarry swimming hole.  It was ringed by a stone wall and surrounded by a park.  There were several picnic tables and many little signs telling us what kind of tree or flower, as well as an historical sign about Eleuthera and an informative sign about the blue hole itself.  This one has a high sulfur and mineral content and people are urged to take a swim in its healing waters.  (We declined.)  We did feed the corn to the fish and they loved it.  We saw several kinds of snapper, as well as blue tangs and grunts.  

Feeding the fish in the blue hole.

This view shows you how clear the water is.  We were looking straight down at the fish.

     On our walk we encountered a bakery/deli/convenience store that was open and wandered in to see what they had.  Coconut bread is thing here.  We’ve never had some, so we bought some to try it.  In the process we met Evan, who owns and runs the place.  Really nice man, curious about us and our lifestyle, eager to share his knowledge of the history of this island.  We spent a good twenty minutes talking with him, while his cat ‘Kitty’ and his dog ‘Pepper’ came around looking for attention.  

     We also found the laundromat which has scattered hours due to its being Sunday, and I went back later in the afternoon to do the laundry I haven’t been able to do by hand.  (Sheets, towels.)  Dan refilled all the water tanks and jugs and settled down for a few hours’ worth of sewing.  (There’s very little that man can’t do…)  I had a long conversation with the man who ran the laundromat - Walton Cooper - who once played center field for the Bahamian National Softball team and traveled extensively to play other countries’ teams.  Born and raised in Rock Sound, he wouldn’t rather be anywhere else.  He returned here after the softball career to work for the town water department and now “as a hobby” works in the laundromat.  Really nice guy, I enjoyed meeting him and talking with him. 

Dan is working on a window shade that will work as a sun shield and a rain shield.

     Mahi-mahi again for supper, this time with broccoli and mashed potatoes.   Afterward we went back ashore for a quick walk down to the edge of town to view another blue hole.  We didn't see fish in this one, but watched some yellow-crowned night herons for a little while.  The mosquitoes were starting to gather for their dinner, so we didn't spend a lot of time there.  I didn't get pictures of the herons, so I'll end this blog with pictures of a Wilsons storm petrel which was playing around the boat this morning.

Friday April 22nd: Norman’s Cay

Easterly winds at Norman's Cay

    The wind has been literally howling in the rigging for several days now.  We decided to change anchorages, but didn’t go farther than a couple of miles, as it was choppy even in the Exuma Banks.  We’d been to Norman’s Cay on the way down, and this time thought we’d try for Norman’s Pond, a much touted hurricane hole kind of a anchorage just North of the more popular anchorage.  However, with the wind blowing against the current in the Sound, and the tide being high either at eight-thirty in the morning or nine-at night prevented us from going to the Pond.  The entrance is on the Sound side, and is tricky even on a calm half-tide.  Dan had toyed with the idea of making the crossing to Eleuthera today, but a few minutes into the Wax Cay Cut to the Sound changed his mind.  We settled for the popular anchorage at Norman’s Cay, almost in the same spot we’d been to in January.  Back then this area was filled with boats heading South.  Today we were one of two boats when we got there, one of four by nightfall.

     We decided to take the dinghy out to see if we could find an inland passage into the Pond, where the guidebook says hammerhead sharks come to spawn in the spring, but the water was too shallow to get there from here, so we opted for another beach walk.  We are out of the Park now, so shelling and sea-beaning was allowed.  We spent a good couple of hours beach combing.  I did find some small shells to add to my collection, and Dan made several scores picking through the jetsam.  One was a large piece of foam in excellent condition, probably from someone’s cockpit cushions.  Cut up, it will make good padding. 

     In the afternoon we donned our wetsuits and went out for a snorkel.  Dan was hoping for some conch for dinner.  The current was very strong at the boat, so we went around one of the small cays to snorkel in the lea.  There were some very active reefs with many different kinds of fish, but the live conch were too immature to take.  Still, it was a good snorkel, though we were both chilled by the cool water.  We managed to get into the dinghy (a tough and very ungraceful feat for me, so usually I swim back to the boat while Dan follows with the dinghy) when we came to the current, and returned to the boat.  I lathered up and jumped back in to rinse off while Dan made hot chocolate to warm us up, and I found the current too strong for me to get back to the ladder.  I managed to swim to the braided line meant to rescue Tommie if she falls overboard, but Dan had to toss me a line and tow me back to the boarding ladder.  Good lesson for us - test the current before jumping in!! 

     All clean and settled in for the nightly ritual of watching the sun go down, we were hailed by a passing cruiser in a 1920s Chesapeake Bay buy-boat.  Yamacraw was letting us know how much they admired the Willie Dawes.  Dan immediately got on the radio and returned the compliment.  Yamacraw was a beautiful boat and probably makes a wonderful live-aboard.

Yamacraw 

Thursday April 21st: Shroud Cay

     Thursday morning we set off in the dinghy to explore the mangroves.  At first we didn’t pay much attention to the tide, but as we got into one of the channels we realized how shallow everything could get.  The inland lake on our charts was covered with about two feet of water.  Sand bars were emerging.  Long extensions of the mangrove’s roots struck out for the deeper water, and small shoots a few inches long were starting to show.  We decided to head across the island to the Sound side where waves were crashing magnificently along the beach.  A long beach walk while we waited out the tide sounded like a great idea.

     What a pretty place!  We had the whole beach to ourselves and we took our time exploring it.  Being on the Sound side, it was strewn with debris, and Dan had a great time poking through the rubble looking for something worth keeping.  He’s found many things on these beaches: useable wood, lengths of plastic for some project or other, old bait bags to use for lures, etc.  On this one he found more little treasures, and I found a perfectly good ping pong ball for Tommie.  I wish we could do something with all the rest of the junk - it’s sad to have to leave it behind.  He did find a piece of Lobster trap from Friendship Trap, Maine.  (In the Jumentos we found one from Brooks Trap Mill in Thomaston, Maine.)

     When we’d had our fill, we meandered the mangrove passages back the way we came and returned to the Willie.  En route we saw several little sharks.  We couldn’t get enough of a look to see what kind they were, but we suspect they were sand sharks as they were in very shallow water over the sand bars.  

     Later in the afternoon we went for another walk in a small pond area adjacent to our anchorage.  Dan remarked that the landscape was like something from a science fiction movie: very desert-like despite the standing water around the mangrove shoots, and blackened by oxidization.  We aren’t familiar enough with the geology to explain it well, but we have learned that these islands aren’t so much as eroding limestone as they are building it.  Sand deposits mix with coral and glue together, forming the jagged, hole-y rock that allows water to percolate through it.  (We had thought the limestone was the base layer that was eroding.)

     Dan found some interesting driftwood that he will turn into lamps one day.  I took apart two fire rings some irresponsible cruisers had been using.  I have done this on many a Maine island too.  People do love a fire on the beach, but there are better places and more responsible ways to do it.   

    We didn’t snorkel this area because the water temperature had dropped to the low seventies and we were feeling a bit wimpy.  We did meet another cruiser - Jamie, from a nearby catamaran - who said he’d seen some very large groupers and snappers and possibly a spotted drum, which we’ve not seen yet.  We debated going in the water after we spoke with him, but opted for rum punches on the Willie instead, and spent a quiet evening watching the sun go down.

Tuesday & Wednesday April 19 & 20th: Warderick Wells 

     Tuesday we threaded the shallows of Pipe Creek back into the Exuma bank and continued North.  Today’s intended destination was Warderick Wells.  We had spent five nights at anchor on the back side of the island, in Hog Cay, waiting out a Northwesterly front.  This time we thought we’d take a mooring in the coveted North Mooring field, adjacent to the Exuma Land and Sea Park headquarters.  It was only about six nautical miles from Pipe Creek as the crow flies, but we had to follow a path that took us a few miles to the West before turning back toward the cays, because of the sand bars and coral studded shallows.  (Like in Maine, sometimes you can’t get there from here.)  

     We’d been assigned mooring #21.  When we entered the beautiful, pristine waters of the North Mooring field, we discovered the channel to be a very narrow ‘U’ shape, surrounded by sand bars. Mooring #21 was almost to the very end of it.  We carefully passed by the occupied moorings, sometimes within a few feet of the boat.  We startled the occupants of a fifteen foot wide catamaran: they had clearly not been expecting to see another boat come across their stern while they were enjoying a late lunch.  We continued around the bottom of the ‘U’ passing near dinghy moorings where people were snorkeling, and up to our own mooring without incident.  

Exuma Land and Sea Park Headquarters from our anchorage.  See the sand bar in the middle of the 'U'.  

     Dan and I tidied up and broke out the snorkel gear.  We thought we’d just snorkel from the boat, everything was so close by.  Once in the water, we discovered a very strong current.  We quickly understood we couldn’t swim down to the reef at the bottom of the ‘U’ - we’d never make it back to the Willie.  We decided to try for the rocks near the entrance of the mooring field, in the top of the ‘U’.  The surrounding sand bars came in very handy - we pulled ourselves along with our hands as we kicked.  It was quite the aerobic work out.  We managed to make it to and around the two rocks marking the top of the mooring field, where protected coral and fish flourished, but there was no hanging around to look at anything.  It took a lot of effort just to get around those rocks, and once around, the current was forcing us back toward the Willie Dawes.  I remarked to Dan “We’re going to get one shot at this, aren’t we?”, meaning grabbing the boarding ladder.  It’s a good thing we’re both strong and confident swimmers.   

     The guide book talked in glowing terms about the excellent snorkeling in the North Mooring Field, but it made little reference to the current.  Back on board, we watched other boats navigate the channel to their moorings.  One missed their pickup and collided with another boat.  Another slipped sideways into the bottom of the ‘U’, managed to snag the mooring but ended up dropping it boathook and all, before regaining control.  I turned to Dan to thank him for his piloting skills.  He’s so good at the helm neither of us noticed how strong the current really was when we entered this field.  It also was to our advantage that we had to round the ‘U’ for our mooring; the current was against us, not shoving us forward.  Far easier to pick up a mooring when you are heading into the current.  

     Wednesday we went ashore and met Sherry, the office worker who monitors the radio, assigns moorings, fields questions like “can we use our jet ski?” (answer - not in the mooring fields), and sells souvenirs and ice.  We got a copy of the Warderick Wells snorkeling map and went to explore the island itself.  This Park is terribly underfunded and understaffed, but they manage to maintain a few trails on the island and get around the many cays in a staff boat to try to oversee the many mooring fields.  It’s a sad comment on cruisers to note that some of them take advantage of the lack of staff to anchor in mooring fields to avoid the $20 nightly payment, to leave behind momentoes  other than driftwood (a sign asks people specifically not to use nails, plastic, or rope of any kind when adding to the pile of boat-related we-were-here signs), and to poach shells, conchs, and fish.  This is an incredibly beautiful area.  Some people just don’t believe rules apply to them.

     We followed the trail to Boo-Boo Hill, where a schooner was once wrecked with all had lost and the souls supposedly haunt the area, especially on a full moon.  Along the way there were many informative signs talking about the various indigenous flora and explaining the geology.  On the top of the Hill, which commands an impressive view of both sides of the island, there are many blow holes.  We weren’t there at high tide, so they weren’t active, but they were noisy and we could feel the air coming out as the waves slammed into the limestone below.  

<--Bank side ... Atlantic side -->

Looking straight down the cliff at waves slamming the side.

Dan feels the air come up through the blow hole.

     Back aboard the Willie we weighed anchor and big goodbye to Sherry and Warderick Wells and headed North about fifteen miles to anchor off Shroud Cay.  This is the edge of the Land and Sea Park, in the Northern Exumas, and apparently is a favorite stopover for people heading to the marina at Highborne Cay or going all the way to Nassau.  We anchored here with about fifteen other boats.  Shroud Cay is also known for scenic dinghy passages through mangroves.  We’ll explore them tomorrow.

Sunset from Shroud Cay.

Sunday & Monday April 17 & 18: Piano, Pigs, Pipe Creek

Internet stock photo

     Sunday morning we launched the dinghy and went around the point to dive on the sunken piano.  When first installed, it had a mirror finish.  Most of it is tarnished now but in a few spots the polished steel is still visible.  It’s a grand piano with the lid raised, complete with ‘quilted’ bench seat, on which the mermaid rests her arm.  (See the picture at the end of the previous blog.) The whole thing sits on a platform bolted to the sea floor.  It’s literally in the middle of nowhere, and we were surprised that it’s in that particular spot - it’s possible for someone to unknowingly hook it with their anchor.  We took turns diving the twelve or so feet to sit on the bench and pretend to play the piano - easier for Dan to do than me, because he sinks better than I do.  When we’d had our fill of the sculpture, we slowly snorkeled back to the Willie, Dan towing the dinghy along as he swam. 

     Rudder Cut Cay itself is private, but we went to the beach anyway for a quick look around.  Someone must come and remove all the debris - it was one of the cleanest beaches we’ve seen.  Not only no trash, but no shells or anything else.  

     Back on the Willie we made ready for departure.  The NE wind was still blowing strong enough for white caps, but we made easy progress through it all with just the mainsail, cruising the fifteen miles to Staniel Cay and nearby Big Majors Cay where the swimming pigs are.

     The last time we were in this area, we snorkeled in the famous Thunderball Grotto.  We’d spent one night on the back side of Big Major’s Cay, but the pigs weren’t on that side.  Apparently long ago some sailors dropped the pigs off, intending to come back and slaughter them for food.  Pigs have been there ever since, and have learned to swim.  They are now quite the tourist attraction.

     We arrived in the anchorage about four o’clock, dropping the hook amongst thirty other boats.  It’s the biggest gathering of cruisers we’ve seen since George Town.  Several familiar boats were here, including Jabulani, the power cat we met in Flamingo Cay.  We also met the owners of Baby Blue, a boat that once held a mooring near ours in Rockport, Maine.  Other boats we recognized from George Town.  Most of us are making our way North and eventually back to the States.

     We decided not to launch the dinghy that night, and so had a quiet, relaxing dinner and watched the people around us while the sun went down into a cloud bank most unspectacularly.  I guess not every night has a beautiful sunset.

     Monday morning we took the dinghy over to Pig Beach.  We decided not to bring food, as we’d heard the pigs can be particularly aggressive if they know you have something to eat; they will even try to board your dinghy.  They apparently knew we had nothing for them, because they were hard put to get up from their resting places in the sand.  When we ran the dinghy ashore, though, they all got up and came right over.  Some of them are really big!!  It was pretty exciting for a minute or two while Dan leaped out to push us back off shore, cutting his foot on a rock in the process.  The pigs grunted in disgust and didn’t come after us.  However, at that moment a launch came zipping around the point and they all got right into the water to greet him.  They obviously recognized the sound, as did the flock of laughing gulls and the roosters who also reside on the island.  The launch came from a restaurant in Staniel Cay, with a couple buckets of compost.  There was much squealing, grunting, crowing, and bird shrieking as the launch operator tossed the contents of the buckets onto the sand for the ensuing feeding frenzy.  He grinned at us, waved and took off and we hovered a few feet offshore to watch all the animals fight for the food.  Bahamas barnyard.  Amazing sight.

     Now that we’ve crossed the Exuma swimming pigs off our list, we weighed anchor to head North.  When we were in the Jumentos, it was so nice to be away from the crowded anchorages and all the hoopla that goes along with nearby resorts.  We’re a bit spoiled, I think.  We weren’t sorry to bid goodbye to Big Majors Cay - especially to those jet skis - to find something more quiet.

     We found it in Pipe Creek.  This is a narrow and very shallow channel between many little cays just South of the Exuma Land & SeaPark.  The chart shows a few anchorages but getting to them is tricky and requires trust in the dotted path on the page and a lot of visual piloting.  We slowly entered the area, mindful of the brownish-yellow spots that might mark sand bars, watching the standing waves that might mark reefs, and paying close attention to very dark spots that could be coral heads.  We didn’t go too far before Dan decided he’d been stressed enough and told me to standby the anchor.  

Pipe Creek Anchorage.

     It’s a lovely spot, and fairly private, although there are a scattering of second (or third) homes for the rich and tasteless.  There are no other boats anchored here, but there have been occasional motor boats and even a sea plane coming through.  Many of the surrounding cays are privately owned and they have a lot of power toys to get them where they might want to go.  Dan opted to rest and do a little sewing while I jumped in for a snorkel around.  A strong current kept me close to the boat, but there was abundant sea life to observe, and I found an unoccupied shell to add to my collection.  Back on the boat we spent a leisurely afternoon and a quiet evening while the NE winds still blew and occasional clouds threw a few raindrops our way.

Dan's leisure time included making a couple of fender covers.

Saturday April 16: Back to the Exumas

     Dan was up at 6:30 am to catch Chris Parker’s forecast.  When I arose he told me he thought it would be better for us to cross back over to the Exumas, that he was afraid the anchorage at Little San Salvadore was not the best place for the wind that was predicted.  Like many of these Northers, this would last a couple of days, and any place we went to would have to be a place we could stay for the duration.  After our experience at Little Exuma during the last blow, Dan wanted to make sure we would be comfortable this time around.  We wanted to see a few things in the Exumas that we hadn’t seen on the way down, and if we headed North with the other two boats, we might end up bypassing the Exumas altogether.  So we made ready for our passage back across the Sound and bid goodbye to Freed Spirit and Presence-ing.  They too had decided to change their plans, and last we heard they were headed to a marina in Eleuthera some sixty miles North, to stay there for the next few days.

     We had a fairly calm crossing.  There was a small swell, but the winds were enough to give us an extra half-knot.  We raised both main and jib.  When we got into the deep water, Dan rigged one of the fishing rods and set down to fashion a new plug lure from a piece of driftwood he’d salvaged at Cat Island.  He is nothing if not resourceful!  By lunch time we had two rods cast.  Around one pm we had one bite that looked promising, but the fish spit the hook and swam away.  At least he didn’t take the lure!  We never had another bite.  We don’t have the best luck at fishing.

Dan's new lure.

     We got to our intended destination - Musha Cay - around four-thirty.  The magician David Copperfield owns this and several surrounding cays and we’d heard about an underwater sculpture of a steel piano and stone mermaid that he’d commissioned.  This was one of the things we’d come back to the Exumas to see.  Our guide book had a picture of it and somewhere - though we couldn’t for the life of us find where - we’d seen a chart that marked the spot with a small piano.  We cruised in through the Mucha Cay cut and around the backside of the Cay itself, anchoring near the beach of the extremely exclusive Copperfield Resort.  ($37,500/night - no kidding!) People were obnoxiously zipping around on jet skis and in very large well-equipped fishing boats, but no one was snorkeling or SCUBA diving anywhere.  We launched the dinghy and motored around, looking for any sign of the piano and mermaid but found nothing.  All we had to go on was the picture in the guide book and the advice from Nieve on Freed Spirit to go at slack water because there was a strong current.  A bit frustrated after forty minutes of searching, we went back to the Willie to make use of the internet.  This was also a bit frustrating - Google searches came up with many sailing blogs where people described snorkeling or diving at the mermaid, but they didn’t say where the thing was.  Then I Googled “GPS location” along with Copperfield piano and mermaid and came up with yet another sailing blog that gave exactly that information.  I relayed it to Dan who plugged it into our chart plotter.  Turns out the sculpture isn’t at Musha Cay at all, but at Rudder Cut Cay, and just around the corner from an anchorage we’d used on our way to George Town back in January.  

     We hauled anchor and went over to Rudder Cut Cay and there it was, in about twelve feet of water.  There is no cell phone coverage here, though, so no internet to help us spread the word right now.  We anchored in a snug little cove nearby that is out of the current, and will protect us from wind and swell.  We will go snorkel the piano tomorrow.  

"The Musician" - internet stock photo.

Friday April 15: Cat Island

     We gathered on the beach with new friends Nieve and Gary from Freed Spirit and Lee and Brian from Presence-ing for a walk up to Mt. Alvernia. Father Jerome (aka John Hawes) was a Briton who studied architecture and theology.  He came to the Bahamas in 1908 and devoted himself to rebuilding storm-devastated churches throughout the islands.  He modeled his preaching and his lifestyle after the simplicity of St. Francis of Assisi.  A devout Anglican, he eventually adopted Roman Catholicism and became an ordained priest.  On Mt. Alvernia, the highest point in the Bahamas, he built a steep path with Stations of the Cross leading to a replica of Christ’s tomb, complete with roll away stone.  There he lived in a tiny stone room adjacent to a small chapel, from 1938 until he died in 1956.  It’s quite impressive to see and commands a great view of the harbor.  There are other John Hawes churches in the Bahamas, many of them are on nearby Long Island.

One of the Stations of the Cross

The ascent through the Stations of the Cross

Replica of Christ's tomb.

The interior of the chapel.

     Dan and I talked with a few local people, learning they were rebuilding a different storm-damaged church, and that good food could be had in the town of New Bight and in various restaurants along the beach.  We walked the beach to do a little shelling, but mostly we picked up glass.  There was an awful amount of sharp shards scattered all along the beach.  

Laughing gulls on the beach.

     We made plans to join Presence-ing in their anchorage around the point, and to go out to dinner with them and our friends from Freed Spirit, and after a late lunch we weighed anchor and set off around to the next cove to the North.  Our guide book promised this area had better snorkeling.  As soon as we settled in our new anchorage, we launched the dinghy and broke out the snorkel gear.  There was a large rocky reef in the harbor and we started our exploring over there.  We saw an abundance of small fish and found another new-to-us species, a colorful fish called a puddingwife.  For the first time in a long time, there were no barracudas around.  We snorkeled quite a while, making our way slowly back to the Willie.  

Puddingwife - stock internet photo.

     Presence-ing was hosting everyone for cocktails before we all headed ashore to a local resort for buffet dinner of surf and turf, so we had deck showers and put on ‘going ashore’ clothes and jumped back in the dinghy to head over to their catamaran.  They gave us a tour and we all had a good time getting to know each other a little.  

     The resort we went to for dinner was very elegant and yet very relaxed.  There was an honor bar - you poured your own and filled out a little card to hand to the waiter at dinner.  The dinner was excellent - beef tenderloin perfectly cooked, lobster tails, chilled asparagus, home made yeast rolls, and a large green salad.  We all dug into the salad with much appreciation - leafy greens just aren’t a part of our usual diets here in this warm climate.  They probably don’t grow well here and they certainly don’t last long in the heat.  For dessert, we had ‘upside down pumpkin cake’ which was more like a pumpkin pie without the crust.  Delicious!  The six of us had a table on the deck overlooking the harbor where only our three boats rocked gently at anchor.  There were perhaps six other people total there for the dinner, this being a bit between seasons at the resort.  After dinner we sat around a bonfire on the beach with a young couple from Texas who were staying at the resort.  Such a great day spent in the company of really nice people.  We made tentative plans to buddy boat with both Presence-ing and Freed Spirit,  though we all had different goals for our individual Bahamas experience.  We knew there was yet another Northerly blow coming early Sunday morning, and we decided collectively that a stop at Little San Salvadore Island might be a good spot to weather it.  We left it that we would listen to the updated forecast in the morning and confirm our plans then.

Thursday April 14: New Bight, Cat Island

     0610 and we are underway, saying goodbye to Elizabeth Harbor, and on to Cat Island to the East.

     It was a little hard to sleep last nite as we could hear the roar of the surf on the East side of Stocking Island.  The alarm came early, and I was skeptical that we could make the trip, due to adverse wind and ocean swell.

     We had our breakfast porridge while still in the lee of Stocking Island, then began to roll as we came between the reefs at the North end of the harbor.  In Conch Cut we took some spray, but going on the premise that it would be calmer in the deeper offshore water, and a good forecast, we plowed on.

Sunrise as we left Elizabeth Harbor.

     We had arranged with another boat, the catamaran Presence-ing to make the run together to Cat Island, and were also joined by the 40 foot sloop Free d Spirit, which on the radio all day I mis-spoke as “Great” Spirit.  They were both just behind us leaving the Cut.

     As hoped, the wind driven waves did die down and it turned out to be a perfect day to motor-sail the 50 miles to Cat Island.

     As soon as the seas moderated, we started getting our fishing gear out, as we were covering some deep water today.  About an hour into our fishing we had a strike, and it gave a mighty pull.  Our big rod was in one of our deck drains, which we have been using as rod holders, and after the fish took all the line, it pulled so hard that it put a 20 degree bend in the pole’s handle!

     I reeled it in and we watched as it jumped several times.  This was clearly a Dolphin Fish, aka Mahi-Mahi.  We had it right beside the boat, a 12 to 15 pounder when it spit the hook.  Bummer!  But wait, there were three of them and they swam around the boat for about ten minutes, but even though they hit my lure several more times, they would not take the hook.

     Okay, excitement over, for now, back underway.  Our friends in the catamaran had passed us while we were stopped trying to land the fish.  they were fishing as well but had had no hits.

     An hour or so later we had another strike and this one was even stronger.  I reeled him in several times and several times he pulled all my line back out.  He had a will.  I figured to let him tire out so we would have a better chance of boating him.  We could see him clearly as he swam alongside the boat.  We both have polarized glasses, unfortunately our camera does not.  We could see the pink hair from our lure and the bright blue pectoral fins, and the large yellow tail.

     Finally we got him alongside but were unable to get the net under him, so I yanked him right up onto the rail, and our leader parted off, there goes dinner!

     Same as before, there had been 2 other Mahi-Mahi in this little school, but when our fish escaped, they all vanished.

     We still had two hours to go in the deep water, so we set new gear, but had no more luck, well only to say that when I pulled in my lure as we approached Cat Island, I realized that I had forgotten to remove the masking tape that is wrap around the hooks for stowage!  I guess that last effort was just practice.

     After making the Hawks Nest Point we still had almost 2 hours to go to our anchorage off the Hermitage, a shrine built by a single monk. All this was shallow water, and very calm.  Very strange to go from over 1000 feet of water to 30 in a matter of several hundred feet.  It must be some steep drop-off.

The Hermitage, overlooking New Bight settlement - highest point in the entire Bahamas.  206.7 ft.

     Our friends on the Free d Spirit had passed us when we were losing our second fish, so we followed them in to the anchorage, joining 3 other sloops already anchored.  Strangely though, no sign of the catamaran, though we are sure he was ahead of us.  Throughout the rest of the afternoon he kept calling first the Free d Spirit then the Willie Dawes.  But when we tried to answer we got no response.  All we could figure was that since he was so far ahead of us, that he had gone to a different anchorage….

     This is a wide open roadstead, with fifty miles of water off our stern, and the main road of the island off our bow.  This is the middle of three settlements on the island and  we will go ashore in the morning and see what the town is all about and see if the monk did a good job.

     And don’t forget the great pork tenderloin we cooked on the grill!

Tuesday & Wednesday April 12 & 13:  One Last Time in George Town

     We raised anchor around eight am, happy to leave our rolly anchorage at Little Exuma behind.  The winds were finally calming down, but it would take awhile for the seas to follow suit.  We weren’t more than five minutes underway when I dropped my dry-bag laundry bag in the water and we had to perform a man overboard drill.  I was filling it with a little sea water to do a small load and it got away from me.  Dan marked the spot on the chart plotter, turned around, and told me to get the anchor ready.  The bag was already sinking, and we weren’t sure which way the current was going.  By the time the anchor was down, we’d lost sight of it.

     We don’t want to be responsible for more plastic in the water, let alone on the beach, so we broke out the wetsuits and snorkel gear and jumped into the water to find it.  It took a good twenty minutes of searching, but Dan did manage to find it.  By nine o'clock we were once more on our way to George Town.

     Rain squalls marked the end of the front.  Dan piloted from inside and I stayed outside to help the water collection system and to have a shower.  It’s the second rain shower I’ve been able to take - quite exhilarating!  The laundry was already hanging on the lifeline then, and it benefited from a good fresh water rinse.

     The skies cleared and the weather turned hot.  When we reached Kidd’s Cove off George Town you wouldn’t have known there had been a front or rain - it was like a hot summer day in Maine.  We collected the water and fuel jugs and I gathered up all the large laundry (sheets and towels are too hard to wash by hand) and the backpack and we loaded the dinghy for a trip to town.  Dan made several trips back and forth to the boat with water and fuel (purchased or collected in five gallon jugs) while I spent one last time in the Corner Laundromat and purchased a backpack full of fresh produce and meat.  

     We enjoyed steak on the grill and broccoli for supper and retired early - it had been a very long couple of days and we were tired.

     Wednesday we went back into town for another grocery run - this time to stock up on canned goods - and I visited the cute little post office to purchase some stamps and mail some letters.  (It’s only 63 cents to mail a letter from here to the US!)  Dan brought along a couple of spoons and we purchased a treat for ourselves: a pint of butter pecan ice cream, which we ate in the shade near the dinghy dock.  It’s been awhile since we’ve had ice cream and it was good.

Dan uses the free wifi at Redboone Cafe.

     We moved the boat from Kidd’s Cove across the harbor to the beach off Chat n Chill.   Cruisers were having a Treasures from the Bilge sale and Dan was eager to look over what people were selling and giving away.  He always finds something - this time it was a couple of brass hooks, a plastic case for binoculars, and an inflatable fender.  We also found peanut butter.  One of the boats was preparing to go into storage (many yearly Bahama cruisers leave their boat here for the summer) and was clearing out their food storage.  So far we haven’t donated any of our stuff to these sales, but one day we’ll probably find we have a few things that can find a good home somewhere else.  

Treasures from the Bilge.

     While we were there we finally hung a buoy with our names on the Chat n Chill sign post.  We’d been meaning to do it for a long time, and I mentioned to Dan that we’d better do it now or it wouldn’t happen.  So we’ve left our mark here in George Town, and hope to come back to see it some day.

     We are planning a run to Cat Island tomorrow.  (Not to be confused with Cat Cay.)  We mentioned this on the cruisers net this morning and later another boat hailed us.  They want to go with us.  We haven’t actually met them face to face yet, but we agreed to buddy boat with them, and hope to set off at 6 am as it’s a good 50 miles to our destination.  We’re spending the rest of today preparing for that early morning departure.