A Travellerspoint blog

Home is where the Anchor Is…Sailing the Exumas Day 6

Take Two Rum Punches & Call Me in the Morning.

Day Six Itinerary: Staniel Cay to Blackpoint Settlement (6 miles)

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We enjoyed a peaceful morning at Big Major Spot. Maybe the rough patches were finally behind us and we’d have smooth sailing (pun intended) from this point forward.

It's funny how you never get up hope....

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We all wanted to see the pigs again, so we took the dingy back to Pig Beach. We had heard from other cruisers that there were baby pigs. We had not seen them the previous day, so we were hoping they’d be out.

Who knows, maybe the baby pigs would be "adorable." Everything is cute as a baby.

We needed baby pigs!

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I'm sorry. Even as babies, these pigs are not adorable. They just aren’t.

Okay, well, maybe this little guy was kind of cute in a "my nose is too big for my face and I have serious eye boogers" kind of way.

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After the pigs, Matt and I took the dingy for a ride over to Sandy Cay. The water was simply ridiculous on the ride over. It looked unnatural.

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When we reached Sandy Cay, a tiny uninhabited speck with an amazing beach, we had it all to ourselves. A sandbar was just beginning to form.

It was perfect.

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We headed back to Island Girl in time to get back to Staniel Cay for low tide. The group wanted to snorkel the Grotto again and we needed to get fuel and ice at the marina. I was also still determined to find those hot dog buns.

I bet that Yacht Party had hot dog buns.

The short ride from Big Major Spot to the Staniel Cay Yacht Club was beautiful.

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The first thing we learned at Staniel Cay was how not to dock a catamaran. As we neared the dock, Matt jumped off with the rope. Then there was a lot of shouting of random instructions. Matt, John, and Keith all started going in different directions. There was more shouting. The boat suddenly jerked into reverse. Matt was still holding the rope. Matt nearly lost an arm. Keith leapt off the helm. The boat was still in reverse. The rope went in the water. There was more shouting. More running. We finally got the boat in place. Matt regained consciousness, checked to see if he still had 2 arms, and picked himself up off the dock.

Success?

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The guys focued on water and fuel and I walked back to the Blue and Pink Stores. Maybe some hot dog buns had materialized overnight.

No luck.

Apparently, finding hot dog buns in the Exumas is like spotting a unicorn.

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We headed back over to Thunderball Grotto for another snorkel and to grill the leftover hamburgers and (bunless) hot dogs for lunch. It was as beautiful as it had been the day before.

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The grill wouldn’t light. Despite my insistence that we could, indeed, cook hot dogs and hamburgers on the stove, the guys kept working on the grill.

Remember how I said a man will put a bike together wrong 4 times before he'll read the instructions? Yeah. It was something like that.

An hour later, looking at the tools strewn all about the deck, getting hot and hungry, I started yelling.

You know that person that is really bossy, always talks but never listens, has a really bad temper and is always starting fights?

Apparently, that’s me.

I cussed everyone out. Matt threw a few hamburgers in the ocean. Sydney got a headache. I started crying. John was just happy that he wasn’t the one fighting with me this time. Teresa just wished her mattress was dry so she could go hide in her cabin. Keith popped open a beer and wondered why the hell he was on a boat with these people.

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After lunch (cooked on the stove) and a second round of snorkeling, we pulled up our anchor and headed toward Blackpoint Settlement on Great Guana Cay.

We stopped on Bitter Guana Cay, just before Blackpoint, to see the endangered Rock Iguanas.

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Blackpoint Settlement is touted as the largest settlement in the Exuma cays. I think I expected it to be bigger, but I should have known better after George Town.

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This time it was John & Matt who leapt off the boat before even getting a shower. They were headed to Scorpio’s Happier Hour where they could drink and play pool without any women glaring at them.

Teresa went in to town hoping to find some shops still open.

Sydney still had a headache and was sleeping in her cabin.

I grabbed a quick shower and had Keith take me to the settlement dock so I could find Teresa. He stayed with Sydney.

I found Teresa and she told me the guys were at Scorpio’s.

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We headed that way and found a seat at the bar. The guys were playing pool. We ignored them. They ignored us. It was all very 7th grade.

Teresa and I found that Scorpio’s was still having what they called “Happier Hour.” This meant 2-for-1 rum punches. Since they were only $3.50 each, it seemed like a good idea to drink as many of them as we could, despite the fact that they could have stripped the paint off my house

I was feeling happier already.

After a few rum punches, we forgot to be mad.

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Lessons Learned on Island Girl So Far:

1) Every morning is going to be sunny and fun.
2) Every afternoon one of three things is going to happen: a) Someone is going to get hurt. b) We are going to break something. c) Vicki is going to get in a fight with someone.
3) Every evening all the ills of the day can be cured with rum punch.
4) No one has proper bathroom signs.

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See? We were getting the hang of it.

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We walked down to Lorraine’s Café for dinner. While the pig feet and sheep tongue souse sounded mighty tasty, I went boring and got the ribs.
Not expecting much, I was surprised at just how good the ribs were. Although, it could have just been the rum punch. It made everything seem awesome.

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For dessert, the waitress brought us a plate of the ugliest, but most delicious little cupcakes ever.

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It was late. We stumbled down to the dock and suddenly realized we didn’t have a way to contact Keith and let him know we were ready for a pick up.

We yelled. We jumped up and down. We whistled. Finally, he came to get us and we made a bone-jarring, wet, and slow dingy ride back to the boat at oh-dark-hundred.

Posted by vicki_h 05:13 Archived in Bahamas Tagged island tropical bahamas exumas george_town staniel_cay great_exuma little_farmers_cay blackpoint Comments (1)

Home is where the Anchor Is…Sailing the Exumas Day 5

I Smell Bacon.

Day Five Itinerary: Little Farmer’s Cay to Staniel Cay (16 miles)

We woke up not completely hating each other and figured that was a good enough reason to continue on.

Mornings on the boat were my favorite time. Not only was the sky painted in soft colors and the world still soft and quiet, it was the point in each day where no one was mad, we weren't lost, and no body parts were getting broken.

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John & Teresa’s bedding still wasn’t dry and we’d been schlepping it in and out every day hoping it would eventually dry out so that they could return to their cabin. At this point, pieces of their bedding were getting seriously moldy.

We stowed their moldy, wet stuff back inside, made a quick breakfast, and bid "good bye" to Farmer's Cay.

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We were headed for Staniel Cay. As we moved along the inside passage, through shallows, past sandbars, beside uninhabited cays, EVERY DAY was simply amazing.

The water in the Exumas beats anything I have seen anywhere. It's simply mesmerizing.

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We made it to Staniel by 10:30. We wanted to snorkel at low tide, so we moored near Thunderball Grotto.

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We took the dingy in to the Yacht Club to grab some lunch. They didn’t start serving lunch until noon, so we did the only other thing we could. We drank.

Besides, when you've endured a couple of tension filled days, there is nothing wrong with an 11:00 a.m. buzz.

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The girls decided to walk up to the grocery store. We had some leftover hot dogs and were still determined to find the elusive Exuma hot dog buns.

Staniel Cay has two small stores. Combine the contents of both stores and you have the equivalent of a badly stocked 7 Eleven.

We tried the Blue Store first. They did not have hot dog buns. But they did have peanut butter and dish soap, so it wasn’t a total loss.

We walked over to the Pink Store next. They did not have hot dog buns, but they did have Ruffles. Unfortunately, they also had a complete lack of air conditioning or breathable oxygen inside. We almost died.

Really.

But it was worth it for the chips.

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We returned to the Yacht Club for a quick bite before returning to the boat to snorkel the Grotto.

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You know how some things get really trumped up and, when you finally get to experience them, you find that they are severely overrated? Like visiting the Empire State Building, overnight travel on a train, or anything in Las Vegas?

Thunderball Grotto is not one of those things.

It is just as amazing as you think it’s going to be.

The Grotto is a marine cave that you can swim into at low tide. A hole at the top lets shimmering shafts of sunlight beam down into the water below. Underwater is teeming with fish and beautiful coral that you can see in water that is as clear as glass.

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When we’d had our fill of the Grotto, we moved the boat over to Big Major Spot, home of Pig Beach, to anchor for the night.

Apparently, our invitation to the Yacht Party had gotten lost in the mail.

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I saw an article on Huffington Post that said, “You can swim with adorable pigs in the Bahamas.”

I saw another online article that read, “It's decided: there is no better combination than adorable pigs and a tropical island. There exists on this humble planet a place where humans and wild pigs can frolic on a tropical beach together.”

Okay, let’s get a couple of things straight, because I don’t want anyone to be misled.

Yes, there are swimming pigs in the Bahamas. Yes, they are kind of cool.

But adorable they are not.

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Nor can you “frolic on a tropical beach together,” unless your definition of “frolicking” involves running for your life with a two-day old bagel in your hand while being chased by 5 giant pigs who outweigh you by at least 100 lbs or beating pig hooves off the side of your dingy with a pool noodle so he doesn’t sink you both.

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We swam with the pigs. We fed the pigs. We watched Sydney get chased down the beach by the pigs (my personal favorite).

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We spent the rest of the beautiful afternoon on the boat doing our thing. Apparently, my thing is jumping on the trampoline. Apparently, enough rum can make a person think that is an ACTUAL TRAMPOLINE.

It’s not.

It's a lot like jumping up and down on the sidewalk.

But good luck telling me that after I have had a few rum punches.

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The afternoon was enjoyed on the boat, doing absolutely nothing. It was heavenly.

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We had discovered “Taste & Sea” Restaurant on our previous trip to Staniel Cay and had actually enjoyed it more for dinner than the very slow and very overpriced Yacht Club. So, everyone got cleaned up and we headed inland to celebrate our first day at sea where nothing got broken, no one got hurt, no one cried, and no one got in a fight.

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We celebrated with rum punch, coconut shrimp, and key lime pie.

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And then there was Bobby.

We loved Bobby.

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When it was time to leave, Sydney left a huge tip with a note, “Please use the extra tip money to give Bobby a bath.”

We had made it through an entire day without tearing anything up, getting lost, or getting in a fight. Things were looking up.

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Posted by vicki_h 07:10 Archived in Bahamas Tagged island tropical bahamas exumas george_town staniel_cay great_exuma little_farmers_cay Comments (3)

Home is where the Anchor Is…Sailing the Exumas Day 4

Day Four: Mermaids and M*&%ER F&*@ERS

Day Four Itinerary: Rat Cay to Little Farmer’s Cay – 24 miles

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I don’t know about everyone else, but I woke up EXHAUSTED.

We had survived Sailing in the Bahamas for Dummies on Day 1 and hoped the learning curve was going to get easier.

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Our plan for the day was to sail from Rat Cay to Rudder Cut Cay, where we would anchor for lunch before continuing on to Little Farmer’s Cay where the first “settlement” after leaving Great Exuma waited for us. We were looking forward to finding the submerged piano sculpture that was rumored to be off Rudder Cut and have a dinner at an actual restaurant where we could eat at a table that didn’t rock back and forth and require you to hold onto your silverware to keep it from sliding into the floor.

The morning sail was uneventful. The water was beautiful. Starfish the size of dinner plates rested on the sand below and the bottoms of the clouds overhead were tinted with turquoise from water below. Everywhere we looked, there was a different shade of blue.

We enjoyed a calm, peaceful ride, alternating between naps on the trampoline and reading on the back deck.

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We arrived at Rudder Cut Cay before noon. Rudder Cut Cay is beautiful, but the beach is off limits because the island is privately owned by David Copperfield. It holds the airstrip that transports guests to and from Copperfield’s gajillion-dollar-a-night private resort island, Musha Cay.

There were actually signs on the beach telling people to "keep off" and I have read that there are guard dogs that patrol the beach to keep riff-raff like us away.

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It is said that David Copperfield had a sculpture made from a mirror finished piano that is a replica of a life size Steinway Concert Grand Piano. A mermaid sits on the bench, a sculpture fashioned after the woman who was Copperfield’s girlfriend at the time the sculpture was made.

Adam, the guy who checked us out on the boat, told us he’d never been able to find it. Finding a piano in the ocean is like trying to find a fart in a sandstorm.

We didn’t have a chance.

But we really wanted to find that piano.

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Matt and John swam back and forth across the bay where we believed the sculpture to be. Back and forth. Back and forth. Forth and back. Back and forth.

Just when we were about to give up, a day tour boat passed and stopped at the cave on Rudder Cut. Matt swam over and asked them where it was. They directed us to go back one bay, around the point. "Once you see it, you can't miss it," they said.

They were right. From the surface, it looks pretty much like a piano in the water.

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I hate to overuse the word awesome, but it was AWESOME.

I mean...A mermaid! And a piano! In the water!

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We planned to visit the nearby 2 mile sandbar, as low tide was just approaching, but some ugly clouds and choppy waves were approaching too, so we decided not to try our luck.

This was as close as we got.

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Instead, we made lobster rolls with lobster Sydney had brought down from Canada and buttered, toasted baguettes. Apparently, Syd does not like it when her hands smell like lobster. I was starting to wonder if she was going to make lobster salad or perform a rectal exam.

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The morning had been fantastic. Our spirits were high. We had found the mermaid. We were sailing through the water like a hot knife through butter. We had a fantastic lunch instead of a rectal exam.

We had this Bahamas sailing thing DOWN. We were IN THE KNOW. We had this.

Life was good.

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Until we got to Little Farmer’s Cay.

We were moving along fine, having just reached Little Farmer’s Cay, and then, all of a sudden, there was a JOLT. And we weren’t moving anymore.

Damn.

One minute, the sun is shining. You’re sipping a rum punch. You’re cruising along with your favorite song playing and then. Wham. You’re on a sandbar.

The boat guide says, “If you do hit a sand bar, the first thing you should do is shut off the engine. Make sure that everyone on board is okay, because there is sure to be a hard jolt, and if you are not prepared for it you may go flying and get hurt. “

That’s as far as we got before the fight started.

Unfortunately, we didn’t get as far as “Stay calm. Getting irate will not help you dislodge your boat and it will only make things worse for the people on board.”

Fingers were pointing. Charts were flying. Sydney was waving her arms. Teresa was crying again. John and I had a shouting match that would have made our mothers wash our mouths out with soap. Everyone blamed everyone.

Thankfully, Matt kept reading as the rest of us alternated between screaming, shouting, crying, and curling up into a fetal position and repeating, “Mommy loves Daddy. Mommy loves Daddy. Mommy loves Daddy.”

“Disembark and make sure that there is no structural damage. If not, then then push your boat backwards from where you came.”

Before we knew it, we were off the sandbar.

We all calmed down long enough to find some mooring balls and secure the boat. The mooring wasn’t strong and it looked like a storm was coming.

This caused another shouting match.

The women on the boat were demanding that we use the VHF to call the Yacht Club because the guide book said you could call them if you needed help navigating your way in and someone would help you.

A man will drive 40 miles out of his way before he'll stop and ask directions. A man will put a bicycle together wong 4 times before he'll actually read the instructions. Did we really think they were going to radio some other guy and admit they needed help navigating in?

Things were tense.

We finally called the Little Farmer’s Yacht Club and they told us how to get in and where to find a stronger mooring. When we got the boat secured at the second mooring, I practically leapt off the boat.

There are moments on a boat when the only thing that matters is getting off that boat.

Matt and I had Keith take us over to Little Farmer’s on the dingy and drop us off. I needed some “me time,” and Matt got dragged along for the ride.

Little Farmer’s Cay was unique.

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Little Farmer’s was settled by a freed slave from Great Exuma named Chrisanna. She bought the island from the British Crown and moved there with her three young children. Mostly undeveloped, this small cay is home to about 50 residents who are mostly descendants of the original residents.

There was nothing “fancy” about Little Farmer’s. It was simple and basic, but it was pretty. As we walked, we noticed most people were outside and every single person greeted us with a happy, friendly greeting. These people were not rich, but they were happy and they were kind.

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They had a very interesting Post Office:

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Given the sight of the Post Office and the Grocery Store, and the fact that there was an honor box on the beach where you could either buy a cabbage for $3.00 or drop off garbage for $3.00 (I never was sure ....), I knew Matt was making a mistake when he strolled into this Bar thinking he was going to find an actual BAR.

The rusted out Jeep should have been a clue. There were more posters of alcohol on the outside of the door than there were actual bottles of alcohol inside.

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There was a counter with 2 bottles of rum and a can of pineapple juice. Oh, and some warm sodas. He didn’t have any ice.

Well, once you are the only patrons inside, you are going to be ordering something, now aren’t you? So Matt had a rum and pineapple juice. No ice.

We met a man who was collecting buckets and had his tennis shoes tied with blades of grass. We found a tiny stray kitten. We were followed by laughing children.

We also found what appears to be the Farmer's Cay hotel, although, I would SERIOUSLY like to know who is going to walk up to that door, ring that bell, and tell them they want to sleep there for $10.

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Maybe if I had just spent 3 weeks on a life raft. No. Not even then.

Eventually, I had regained enough normalcy that I thought I could be with other people without slapping anyone, so we made our way to the Ocean Cabin, THE restaurant on Little Farmer’s Cay.

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Ocean Cabin is owned and operated by Terry Bain and his wife, Ernestine. Terry was born in the Bahamas but was sent to England and to Libya for his education. It shines through in his articulate manner and his ability to talk about any subject whatsoever. When you go to the Ocean Cabin, you don’t just get fed well, you get entertained and you get educated.

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When Matt and I walked into the Ocean Cabin’s small bar, the others were gathered around the bar, staring at a blue drink.

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“We’re trying to guess what’s in it,” Sydney said.

Terry told me that the drink was not blue, it was aquamarine. It’s the Ocean Cabin’s signature drink and it is pre-mixed in a jug, so you don’t get to see what actually goes into it. We spent a good 30 minutes trying to guess all of the ingredients. Spend a few days on a boat and that’s what happens to you. Everything becomes entertainment.

We finally managed to guess them all, but by then, we were all drunk, so no one remembers what they were.

So that’s how he keeps the ingredients secret. Terry is a smart man.

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We had pre-ordered dinner via VHF radio shortly before I leapt off the boat for sanity purposes, and as we moved into the dining room, delicious plates of food started arriving.

Matt, Teresa, and I all ordered the lobster. 1) The lobster tails were HUGE. 2) We have no idea how they cooked them, but they were the most delicious, tender lobster tails any of us had ever had. They had some sort of hot sauce butter mixture on them that was out of this world.

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After dinner, Terry told us that we could have any flavor of ice cream that we wanted.

As long as it was rum raisin.

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The drinks, the conversation, the amazing dinner, the ice cream….the long evening had been filled with wonderful things. And every time we thought that was it, it was like that old Ginsu Knives commercial.

“But WAIT! That’s not all. You also get seven free kittens and a new car!”

After ice cream, Terry went around and handed everyone a piece of paper. On it was a song.

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We sang it.

Together.

As a group.

We rocked it.

Little Farmer’s Cay –
smiling in the turquoise sea,
lazing in the sun at noon,
dreaming safe beneath the moon.
Where sky meets sand and sea –
my precious island, Farmer’s Cay.
This is home to me and it will always be.

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“But WAIT! That’s not all! You also get a bag of diamonds and a bubble making machine!”

Just when we thought there couldn’t be anything else, Terry showed up with a tray of shot glasses and a bottle of Nassau Royale liqueur, which he proceed to pour, light on fire, and teach us how to dip our fingers into it and take the fire to our mouths.

WE ATE FIRE.

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That’s better than 7 kittens and a bubble machine.

The best part was that Terry reminded us how much fun we were having and how much we loved each other. Spending the evening with Terry at the Ocean Cabin was worth getting tossed around, flooded, banged up, and run aground.

I even forgave John for calling me a M*&%ER F&*@ER.

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Posted by vicki_h 05:36 Archived in Bahamas Tagged island tropical bahamas exumas george_town staniel_cay great_exuma little_farmers_cay Comments (2)

Home is where the Anchor Is…Sailing the Exumas Day 3

The Day All Hell Broke Loose

Day Three Itinerary: Stocking Island to Rat Cay (23 miles)

It was our first morning on the boat. We were all excited about getting underway.

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Unfortunately, we hit our first snag of the day early. Apparently, the cruising permit for the boat had expired and we didn't have a new one yet. We couldn’t leave Elizabeth Harbor without it.

While we were waiting, Teresa twisted her ankle. I blame myself. I had talked her out of her comfortable, familiar, strappy, hiking sandals and convinced her to buy a pair of flip flops. Apparently, it is not a good idea to wear flip flops for the first time at the age of 58, particularly when your first experience with the flip flops is on a slick, wet, perpetually moving surface. We iced her ankle down and continued to wait.

Snag #3 came when we realized the air conditioning was not working on one side of the boat.

The guy finally showed up with the permit, but by then, we needed the a/c fixed, so he spent the next hour fixing the air conditioner. And while he was at it, we asked him to see if he could get the fan in John & Teresa's cabin working.

It was finally time to go. (He was probably really happy to see us leave).

We would sail on the rough outside passage for about 20 miles, then we would take a narrow, current and rock filled cut to the inside passage, where we would spend the remainder of our trip.

Keith and Sydney were used to sailing the Virgin Islands and this was their first experience in the shallow waters of the Bahamas, where eyeball navigation is more necessary than a fancy GPS. John & Teresa had never been on a sailboat for more than a day trip. Matt and I know about power boats, but not sailboats. We were all a little nervous.

“Anyone who has sailed the Exumas chain in the Bahamas knows about cuts….the cuts tend to be rather narrow, so the amount of water flowing through a cut can be quite impressive….add a little wind opposing the current flow and you can very quickly develop 6 to 7 foot seas in a very confused state combined with a vicious current making for a dangerous situation with land on both sides of you.”

We all took a deep breath, battened down the hatches (literally), secured anything loose, emptied the toilets, and strapped an ice bag to Teresa’s ankle.

This day was already a doozy and we hadn’t even made it out of the harbor yet.

The morning started off great. We cruised along the length of Great Exuma and the water was fairly calm. We lounged. We listened to music. We napped (because some of us hadn't slept well the night before...ahem).

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Snag #4 came in the form of this ominous tornado looking cloud that brought with it torrential rain that lasted just long enough to get everything good and wet and make the waves really big.

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We were starting to worry that this day was not going well, but then there was this beautiful rainbow. Maybe all our bad luck had been frontloaded and the rest of the day was going to be a breeze. (And maybe a dingy filled with singing gnomes was going to show up with a pot of gold. Yeah. Right.)

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We continued on until we were at what we believed to be the correct cut. We were already testy because of all the mishaps that had occurred that morning, and knowing how treacherous the cuts could be, we were extremely on edge.

As we made our way toward the cut, we began to get pummeled by 7-10 foot waves. That’s when the rope to the jib came loose.

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Did you know the term “three sheets to the wind” refers to a boat whose sheets have come loose? That should give you a visual of what was happening to us at that point, in 10 foot waves and strong currents with our sail flapping uncontrollably and the boat meandering at the mercy of the waves.

We couldn’t go into the cut. We couldn’t keep sailing past it. We couldn’t just sit still. So we started going in circles while the guys tried to catch and contain the jib.

Do you know what happens when a boat goes in circles in 10 foot waves? 10 foot waves wash over the boat sideways.

Unfortunately, when Teresa (and her purple foot) had “battened down the hatches” in her room, she didn’t latch the giant hatch over her bed properly.

As we sat up top, clutching anything that looked stable with white knuckles and trying not to cry or vomit, water was POURING into her cabin and flooding her bed.

It was about this time that I heard a loud “BANG!” in my cabin, so I ran (rocking and swaying like a mad woman) down to see what was going on. The hatch in my head had popped and water was pouring into my bathroom. The floor was completely flooded and was about to overflow onto the wood floors of my cabin. I did the only thing I could, I braced myself inside the shower as the boat rocked violently back and forth, and depressed the drain button.

Do you have any idea how long it takes to drain the water from a boat shower? It is agonizingly slow. Worse than the toilet. The best part is that you have to continue to hold the button down until it is completely drained. This took about 6 minutes.

By the time I got back up to the salon, Teresa had discovered her flooded cabin. She managed to re-latch her hatch, but the damage was already done. Her bedding and mattress were saturated and there was about 3 inches of water in the storage area under the bed.

“Leave it,” I said. “There’s nothing we can do about it right now.” She looked miserable.

The guys had gotten the sail secured and we were headed back into the cut. The narrow passage between the rocks literally seemed smaller than the boat. The currents were insane. The water was rough and we were all rattled.

Waves started pitching over the boat again. We heard a lot of commotion up at the helm. That’s when Keith jumped down, hit the deck that was now covered with slick salt water, and fell on his face. Literally landed right on his face. He jumped up, eye bleeding, grabbed a chart book and ran back up to the helm.

You know how, when someone falls, you don't know whether to laugh or pretend to be concerned? Well. It wasn't like that. We were HORRIFIED. Blood was pouring down the side of his face and we were pretty sure he had lacerated his brain and his eye was going to fall out. Sydney, Teresa, and I stared at each other wide-eyed.

We crept through the cut and came out the other side unscathed. The water was calm, the sky blue. It was as though the world on the other side of that cut didn’t even exist.

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Everyone was shaken and unhappy. Teresa’s foot was swollen. Keith’s eye was turning blue and he was bleeding. One of the cabins was completely soaked. That’s when I got the great idea to make lunch.

Yes. I am an idiot. I'm that person that thinks a ham sandwich can cure cancer. "You just lost both of your feet in a car accident? I'm sorry. Here. Have a cupcake."

Food makes everyone happy, right? We were through the cut, we were in calm water, the bad stuff was over. As we made our way to our anchorage, I would surprise everyone by having a lunch spread ready by the time we stopped the boat.

I started making a fruit platter. When that was done, I cut up cheese and salami and put it on another platter with an assortment of crackers. I was smiling and patting myself on the back when I felt the boat make a 180 turn.

“Wha…..?????”

“We’re at the wrong cut,” I heard Matt say. “We have to go back out.”

Teresa started to cry. Sydney put her head in her hands.

I braced myself in a corner, holding a platter of meat and cheese in one hand and a platter of fruit in the other so they wouldn’t pitch over when the waves hit us again. Stupid cheese. Stupid crackers. I hated them. I wanted to throw them overboard.

Apparently, I suffered from premature mastication.

I held those damn platters for 20 minutes until we found ourselves at the correct cut and were safely on the inside passage at Rat Cay. It was remarkable how beautiful the world was on this side of the cut.

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We found a safe anchorage at Pigeon Cay and stopped to assess the damage.

John and Teresa’s bed was soaked. Keith had a black eye. Teresa had a sprained ankle. The davit clip that held the dingy up out of the water had broken and the dingy dangled sadly from one hook. We looked like a Chinese laundry boat with John & Teresa’s mattress, pillows and bedding strapped to every available surface.

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It had been a day.

We ate our smoked salmon wraps in silence, happy to be alive.

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Everyone spent the afternoon doing what made them happy. That meant Matt and I took the dingy over to a nearby deserted beach with rum punches.

It’s amazing how easily an hour on a deserted beach with a rum punch can completely wipe away a bad morning.

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As we pulled up to Island Girl, she looked more like a Haitian refugee boat than a cruising yacht, loaded down with wet blankets and foam mattress pads, but she was ours and she had brought us safely through the cut. Twice. She was family.

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As the sun began to set on our first eventful day, we fired up the grill and made burgers and hot dogs. You think God could have thrown us a mercy pass at this point, but no. It just couldn't be that easy. As with everything on a boat, nothing is “quite right.” The grill had two speeds: raw or on fire. It was more like cooking on a campfire than a grill.

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We couldn’t find a metal spatula for the grill, so I had to use a pie server. The fact that the grill was on fire and the pie server was only about 5 inches long made this quite a challenge. It was also tilted at an angle and there was no lip or edge, so I lost a few hot dogs that just rolled off into the water. That meant I had to hold them onto the grill with my 5 inch pie server.

And we never had found those hot dog buns, so we had “hot dog baguettes.”

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But with a bottle of wine, good friends, and a beautiful sunset at sea….it was all good.

It was a rough start, but we knew there would be a learning curve. We just knew tomorrow would be better.

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Posted by vicki_h 05:58 Archived in Bahamas Tagged island tropical bahamas exumas george_town staniel_cay great_exuma Comments (2)

Home is where the Anchor Is…Sailing the Exumas Day 2

How to Provision a Boat and Get Diarrhea All in One Day

Day Two Itinerary: Sailing from Elizabeth Harbor, Great Exuma to Stocking Island (1/2 Mile)

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We had tricky logistics for the morning. The grocery store closed at 11:00 a.m. Our sailing charter didn’t start until noon. Our sailing friends from Canada arrived at 2:00 p.m.

So, we decided to just make a trip to the beach because thinking about all of those logistics made our head hurt.

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We headed to the grocery store at 10:00 a.m. The plan was to get all the provisioning done by 11:00 and beg the young couple cleaning the boat to let us go ahead and put our food away even though it was an hour before our charter started.

If begging didn't work, Plan B was to bribe them with our $300 box of liquor. If we had to go to Plan C, we were going to need some duct tape and a plunger, so we hoped we didn't have to go to Plan C.

I have shopped in a small Bahamian grocery store before, so I am not unaccustomed to the rather odd, sometimes random, and always limited selections that you encounter there. However, I had never provisioned a boat for 7 days for 6 adults, knowing there would be very limited opportunities to pick up any additional provisions during the trip (because the only thing you could find on the smaller cays is the equivalent of a small town gas station mini-market where you might be able to score a pack of crackers and a can of soda if you are lucky).

Lessons for provisioning a boat in the Bahamas:

• If you don’t eat it at home, you won’t eat it on a boat. Just because you’re on a boat doesn’t mean you have to resort to lots of dried beans, tomato paste, and sardines. Unless you are sailing to Africa, you can probably stick to your normal diet.

• You can never have too much alcohol. 12 bottles of liquor, 1 bottle of champagne, 2 cases of beer, and 4 bottles of wine may sound like a ridiculous amount of alcohol for 6 people to get through in just seven days, but it’s amazing what you can accomplish with a little focus and determination.

• Be patient because nothing in the store will be where it should be. For example, at the Exuma Market, I found the toothpaste with the rat poison. The pizza crusts were with the salsa and chips, not with the Italian foods. And hot dog buns? Well. I never did find the hot dog buns. Probably because the hot dog buns were not with the bread, but were actually with the lighter fluid, and I didn’t think to look there.

• Be flexible. So you wanted Doritos. Bob’s Cheesy Nacho Strips are probably just as good. Want Sprite? You may have to settle for Club Soda and a box of Splenda. The important thing to remember is that there is no food you can’t live without for a week. Especially if you have 17 bottles of liquor and 2 cases of beer.

• Expect things to cost more. That $2.99 box of cereal you buy at home is going to cost you at least 3 times that in the Bahamas. I find that one tends to question one's actual NEED for Oreos when those Oreos cost $11.25.

• Be aware of your space limitations. A week’s worth of food for 6 adults has to fit in a space the size of your high school gym locker. And, after about 3 days it will smell the same. However, despite space limitations, you can never have too much water, ice, zip-loc bags, or toilet paper. Tie them with rope and wear them as a hat if you have to.

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We pushed 3 grocery carts across the rutted, pocked, potholed pavement to the boat. Not only did the kind couple cleaning the boat let us go ahead and load up an hour early, they helped us put things away!

We didn't need that duct tape after all.

We were finally introduced to Island Girl, our home for the next week. While the outdoor and common spaces were AWESOMELY HUGE for a boat, the cabins left me with heart palpitations. It wasn’t my first time on a sailboat, however, and I knew to expect my bedroom to be exactly the size of my (very small) bed with a shoe box sized locker to put all of my things in and a bathroom (head) that could cause the hardiest individual to become claustrophobic in an instant.

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We had the boat provisioned and our things put away by 11:00 a.m. and we weren’t expecting Sydney and Keith until 2:00, so we grabbed a taxi to the Fish Fry, a tangle of colorful one-room shacks located on the shore a couple of miles from George Town. It’s beyond casual and most of the places don’t seem to have regular hours but open when it’s convenient or they simply have nothing else to do.

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Roland, our taxi driver, had recommended Shirley’s. Soon enough, we found her bright yellow building with the doors open, welcoming us inside with the smell of fresh fried seafood. Her menu was simple, featuring local seafoods, curries, and BBQ.

Matt and I ordered the conch fritters, cracked lobster and the coconut grouper to share. I’m not sure what we enjoyed most – the friendly service, the fresh food, the rum punch, or the delicious breeze blowing in off the ocean.

Shirley’s was a HIT.

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It was about 1:30, so it was time to make our way back to the Exuma Yacht Club to wait for Keith & Sydney to arrive.

The term “Yacht Club” is loosely applied on Great Exuma.

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We were surprised to find our friends already on board when we arrived back at Island Girl. After a short briefing, we were ready to set sail.

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Because it was late in the day, our plans were not ambitious. We’d make the ½ mile trip across Elizabeth Harbor to Stocking Island, home of Volleyball Beach and the Chat n’Chill. The short ride across the harbor was beautiful and we all started to get really excited about the week ahead.

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We managed to get there for the tail end of the Chat n’Chill’s Sunday BBQ. Dinner was complete with a Goombay Smash with a Splash and a dog named Butter that would let you throw his coconut.

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We went to be that night full of BBQ, rum, and the hope and promise of our first day at sea.

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Unfortunately for me, I was also full of something else.

Do you know where tap water comes from on a sailboat? Unfortunately, it is not sweet flower dew brought down by fairies. Ask 100 sailors if they drink the water from their holding tanks and I guarantee that at least 99 of them will say “no.” The water looks bad, smells bad, and tastes bad. That’s because it’s likely contaminated with dirt, rust flakes, paint chips, bacteria, cysts, or chemicals. You don’t know where the water in the tank comes from.

It could come from anywhere. You also don’t know how long it’s been since that tank was cleaned. Water tanks that haven’t been cleaned in a while have a thick layer of crud in the bottom and deposits of icky in the PVC lines.

I knew it the instant I did it. I was innocently brushing my teeth when I realized I hadn’t gotten a glass of water from the “clean water jugs” up in the salon. I was already undressed and really didn’t want to put on clothes and schlep back upstairs, so I used the water from the tap.

It was just like the scene in Sex and the City when Charlotte drinks the water in Mexico. I knew my mistake the second I swallowed some of the tank water. I could already imagine the bacteria coursing through my digestive tract, planning to take up residence in some cozy corner of my abdomen, waiting to burst out of me like that thing from ALIEN.

It was about 3:00 am when it hit me. I tried to creep into the head, but there is simply no way to be discreet or quiet on a boat. Your toilet is about 10 feet from the next cabin's bed, separated by a thin wall of fiberglass.

Sound carries.

And smell travels.

Odors are made of gas molecules. Gas molecules are in continual motion. They travel as fast as a bullet. Humid air (like the air in a boat, for example) traps smells and causes them to linger even longer than normal. Small, enclosed areas (like a boat, for example) limit the amount of dilution possible, which further intensifies the smell.

I mean, it’s like a sailboat cabin is the “Perfect Storm” of the olfactory universe. When an odor is released, the small enclosed area and thick, humid air allow the odor to remain in a smellable concentration for an eternity. And privacy? On a boat? Forget about it.

You have no choice but to flush.

Even if it is 3:00 a.m. and the flush is loud enough to wake up the people on the next boat.

Because a boat head doesn't flush like a household toilet. The flush is excruciatingly slow and it is deafeningly loud. You have to hold the button down for about 10 seconds to get a good, clean bowl. It sounds like an 18 wheeler running through a cement wall.

I know there was nothing to be ashamed of. Diarrhea happens to everyone….nuns, princesses, grandmothers…even the Queen gets diarrhea. But I still tried to be discreet.

By my 7th visit to the head, I didn't give a damn about being quiet anymore. In fact, some passive aggressive part of me wanted to take an eye dropper and pour tank water into each of their sleeping mouths so that they too could experience the midnight joy of having their guts turned into molten lava.

Ka-whooooooosh-whooooosh-whooooooooooossssshhhhh (one one thousand.....two one thousand...) kaaaaa-wwwhhooooosssh (three one thousand)….

Oh what a night.

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Posted by vicki_h 06:08 Archived in Bahamas Tagged island tropical bahamas exumas george_town staniel_cay great_exuma Comments (0)

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