Sunday April 3rd:  Buena Vista Cay

     We left Flamingo Cay about nine-thirty and began the six hour cruise to Buena Vista Cay.  The Jumentos are described in one guide book as a line of dots, and that’s pretty much what most of the islands are - just rocks, some large enough for some vegetation and a beach.  The only settlement is on the Southern most island, Ragged Island, a place called Duncan Town with a population of less than a hundred people.  We have come to find out that once Duncan Town was bustling with several thousand people and fishing and importing goods from Cuba and Haiti was big commerce.  Now the Bahamian government has restricted the importing of goods from those two countries in favor of home-grown foods and fishing here is not what it was, as is the case in all countries.  The hearty few still live in Duncan Town, but it doesn’t offer anything for the children growing up there so the population has shrunk dramatically.

     We had a good cruise through crystal clear waters, passing rocks with names like Mushroom, which looked like a mushroom, and Loaf of Bread, which looked more like a whale to us.  The winds were light, from the South, and already clocking through the West toward the North.  The day was sunny and hot.  Perfect for being out on the water.  Buena Vista was the next stop because it was the only one that offered any real protected anchorage, on the Southern end of the island.  But first we dropped anchor in front of the long beach, intent on a short swim and a long walk.  The Jumentos are known for excellent shelling and sea beans - small round brown beans that are often polished and worn as jewelry.  (Apparently in the big days of sail and exploration, sea beans were good luck.)  We hadn’t found any sea beans yet, and so far the shelling hadn’t been that great;  we hoped it would be different on this beach.

     The water was up to eighty-five degrees here.  We passed on the wet suits and donned fins and masks for a short swim to shore.  Once ashore we were dismayed to find it littered with trash.  It really makes you think about what you do with your refuse when you see it piled on a beautiful sand beach.  Everything from plastic bottles to shoes lay in dried seaweed the entire length of the beach.  We did find a couple of rather large, heart-shaped sea beans, but the shells were mostly clam shells and very small.  But going ashore wasn’t a waste of time for us, for we met Edward here.  I was wading the water when he came out and hailed me.  I asked if this was a private beach, ready to apologize for trespassing, but he smiled, spread his arms and said “It is here for the world.”

      Edward is a man with big dreams.  He wore a yellow t-shirt that said Spring Break, Daytona Beach, 1989.  He was small and thin, with a headful of white curls, and was very pleased to have visitors.  He has a small house that is little more than a frame with a roof, wire enclosures that house ducks, chickens and peacocks, and acres of newly planted coconut palms and papaya trees.  He used to keep sheep, he said, but they were eating his newly planted trees, so he shipped them off.  He has goats, but they stay away from this area because they were afraid of his dogs.  He intends to breed large feather-footed chickens, is getting rid of the ducks because they drink too much water (the ducks are on “death row” he said, as is one of the dogs for eating his chicken eggs), and he has plans to build a restaurant and bar and hail passing cruisers on the VHF radio.  He was very proud to show off his little compound and tell us of his dreams.  A supply boat comes along once a week from Duncan Town, bringing him water, food, and building materials.  He has sons and a nephew that he hopes to entice to the island to help him.   He was sweet and charismatic and full of advice.  When he found out we swam ashore, he informed us this was bull shark territory.  “They are like Indians.  You don’t see them, you feel them.”  He saw where we were anchored and told us to go around the Southern point where the water was more protected, as the wind was going to come from the North.  Wonderful man.

Edward's house.

     We kept an eye out for those bull sharks as we swam back to the boat, a little spooked by his warning, but saw little more than a few bar jacks.  We moved the Willie around the corner into another pretty little cove.  We had the frozen mahi-mahi with roasted sweet potato for supper and watched the sun go down.  It looked promising for a green flash, but soon disappeared into a cloud bank.  Just another day in paradise.

Sunset at Buena Vista Cay.