Foxtown |
| Monday,
May 26: Around 7:00pm, I sailed in as close as I dared to Foxtown's rocky waterfront, and anchored outside the big rocks off Little Abaco in 9' of water using the Claw anchor. On the way in, I set a few additional 'FOXTN_' GPS waypoints to help dodge the rocks when leaving. The house bank was showing 12.27V, 2/5 hydrometer balls floating in the three cells which were spot checked. I decided to fire up the Honda generator. I jury rigged a fuel transfer hose from the main gas tank to the generator. Running the generator for about 2hrs. brought the house bank up to 12.5V, an estimated 25% increase in state of charge. |
| Tuesday,
May 27: Starting at 9:00am, I ran the Honda generator about another hour, until the charging current dipped to 16A while I fixed breakfast of apricot pancakes and fresh pressed coffee. After charging and resting, the house bank was at 12.9V. Foxtown was a forlorn looking little village. This impression may have been due to recent severe hurricane damage. The waterfront is guarded by several large tabletop rocks, and many smaller ones at or below the waterline. The entire inventory of Foxtown Shell's general store wouldn't fill two pickup trucks. The only electricity flowing seemed to be for a chest freezer with a broken lid lashed together with tape and wire. I got 5.6gal. of gas and 3 bags of solid ice, all the while trying not to take my eyes off my boat for more than a few seconds. Left Foxtown a bit before noon, following my new 'FOXTN_' GPS waypoints out to deep water. I was sailing under main alone at 3 to 4 knots in maybe 10 knots of SE wind with some whitecaps, bound for the Sea of Abaco via the route between Crab Cay and Spanish Cay. When I rounded Crab Cay and headed up onto a close reach, I raised the 110% jib and single reefed the mainsail. I was making 4 to 5 knots over ground as I passed Cooperstown, Little Abaco around 5:00pm bound for either Green Turtle Cay or Manjack Cay. |
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or just scroll down for the next stop in the Abacos. |
Green Turtle Cay(White Sound) |
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| Tuesday,
May 27 (continued): Around 8:00pm I sailed into a cove between Manjack Cay and Crab Cay right at sunset as the south wind died. (There are more than one "Crab Cay" in the Abacos it seems.) There were about a dozen boats there when I arrived. The first time I tried to set the Claw anchor, it dragged when I backed down on it hard. I moved and reset it, and it held fine. (N26*.48.995',W070*21.789') I ended up anchored near the larger of the two charted wrecks -- some sort of steel and/or wooden barge up against a rocky ledge. The anchorage was too crowded to run the generator without being rude. I took a bath, and had a dinner of curried rice with Heineken beer. Later, I entered some more GPS waypoints for the Hub of the Abacos area. Turned in around 11:00pm. |
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| Wednesday,
May 28: Sailed into the very sheltered harbour of White Sound, Green Turtle Cay and dropped anchor. I rowed ashore and visited Jolly Roger Bar & Grill (part of the Bluff House resort) where I slurped down a killer frozen Margarita, took a shower, and did laundry. Later, after returning the laundry to the boat, I rowed back in and had a nice seafood dinner. |
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or just scroll down for the next stop in the Abacos. |
Marsh Harbor (anchored) |
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| Thursday,
May 29: The winds were kicking around 15 knots with 1' to 3' whitecaps on the Sea of Abaco. I sailed over to Marsh Harbour. It was a wet ride, but good sailing. The anchorage there is large, but was very full and crowded. Immediately after I anchored, I had to move over at the request of the nearest other vessel. As soon as I settled on the hook a second time, another boat began to anchor too close to me. The skipper seemed determined, and perhaps a bit oblivious to my close proximity. I smiled and shook my head "no" at his foredeck crew. The smiled back and shrugged, nodding towards their cockpit. Before long, the skipper decided to move. When they tried to raise anchor, it was fouled. They stalled their electric windlass with the chain vertical. Next, the skipper tried to motor the anchor out. After much thrashing around, they finally got thir anchor to the surface, only to discover it was fouled on another anchor rode. Fortunately, it wasn't the rode of any boat there at the time -- it must have been lost or abandoned sometime in the past. I urged the crew to retrieve the abondoned anchor it for it's potential resale value, but the owner just wanted to get out of there, so they dropped it back in for someone else to snag on another day. I must confess, I enjoyed some small amount of smug amument at his predicament. Bad anchoring karma... |
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| I put the electric trolling motor and one of the
house
batteries on
the dinghy, and set off to run errands in Marsh Harbour.
The town of Marsh Harbour has (for the Abacos) lots of stores, a surprising amount of vehicle traffic, an actual traffic light (the only one I saw in the Bahamas), and perhaps the early symptoms of urban blight. I made some phone calls at one of the few working public phones I encountered in the Abacos. I inquired at the pet shop, "Pets Are People Too", about what becomes of stray kittens in the Abacos, and got some referrals. I also shopped at a hardware store or two, a boat store, and visited a grocery store. I also just walked around a lot, taking in the scene. Back at the boat around sundown, I rigged the dinghy for sailing, and zig-zagged through the crowded anchorage. I received many nice comments and questions about my little homemade wooden dinghy. I also spotted another Catalina 25 from the U.S., "SO FAR" with a couple, and maybe a dog aboard. |
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| Friday,
May 30: I think I spent two nights in Marsh Harbour, which was plenty enough. It wasn't that great an anchorage, what with all the motor vessel traffic. Once the shopping was done, there didn't seem to be much else to keep me there. It was time to move on. |
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or just scroll down for the next stop in the Abacos. |
Hopetown |
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| Saturday,
May 31: I sailed from Marsh Harbour to Hope Town Harbour on Elbow Cay. Hope Town, and in particular its lighthouse, were on my list of things not to miss in the Abacos. I anchored in the excellent sheltered harbour there near the town's waterfront. I had lunch and a drink at a nearby restaurant overlooking the waterfront. I then walked around town admiring the beautifully maintained historic homes and other buildings. On the ocean side of the island (a two block walk from the harbour side) there are lava cliffs, sandy beaches, and there seem to be reefs in close enough to swim to. (But my snorkeling gear was back on the boat on the other side of the island, and I didn't take the time to go get it). |
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(insert images of Elbow Cay beach scenes.)
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| While out walking, I happened upon the boarded up
former
home of the
island's cat lady. She had passed away a year or two
before.
There was a bouquet of flowers on the door, and a note explaining that
she was gone, but not to worry about the cats. On the porch
were
cookie sheets of dried cat food. There were containers of
unopened
cat food stacked on a pallet out of the weather. The note
explained the
townspeople had taken over responsibility for caring for her stray
cats.
Whenever a passerby would notice the cats looked hungry, they would
put out some more food for them. I saw several creaky old
cats
lying around
in the shade. None of them looked particularly thin.
I also stopped to buy two loaves of fresh baked coconut bread at Vernon's Grocery. This was the finest bread I've ever tasted. I wish I could have had more of it, but I correctly calculated that it would spoil if not eaten quickly. As it was, I only had to discard the last heel from the last loaf because of mold. The "streets" in Hope Town are no more than wide sidewalks, and in many cases quite steep. The street signs are just names crudely painted on scraps of driftwood nailed to houses, trees, poles, and corner fence posts. No motor vehicles are allowed in town without a special permit from the town councel. Even golf carts have to park at the outskirts. |
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| Sunday,
June 1: For me, the most significant feature of Hope Town is its ancient, but still working, pre-electric lighthouse. I rowed over in my dinghy to visit it, and shot an entire roll of film in and around it. It dates back to 1863. The lense assembly rotates with almost no friction while floating on a pool of liquid mercury. The rotation is powered by weights hanging from wire ropes, much like a huge grandfather clock which has to be wound at least every couple of hours throughout the night. There is a very precise centrifigal speed governor to keep the lighthouse's unique flash signature consistant. The light source is pressurized, vaporized, and heated kerosene, much like an old Coleman lantern. The light output is around 1/3 million candlepower. The panoramic view from a narrow catwalk around the outer protective lense is fantastically beautiful. Even on a day hot enough to melt tourists on the sidewalk, the breezes up there were cool and refreshing. What is local treasure that old lighthouse is! |
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(insert a bunch of photos from Elbow Reef
lighthouse.)
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| Rather than me going on and on about the
colorful and
fastinating
history of Hope Town, let me refer you to a nice little book on the
subject.
"A Guide and History of Hope Town" White Sound Press, |
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| After visiting the lighthouse, I bought ice, and
washed my
laundry at Lighthouse
Marina. When I finally went to raise my anchor in Hope Town harbor, it was fouled. With the chain vertical and taut, I found I could motor forward, slowly dragging whatever it was under the boat. I did that, heading for a deserted sandy beach nearby. I stopped frequently to take up slack in the chain, and raise the swing keel, as I moved into ever shallower water. In about 4' of water, I could finally see some of what I was up against once the mud settled or drifted away. Whatever had a hold of my anchor included a fan or propeller, and some rusty steel framework. By carefully manipulating the anchor chain, manuevering the bow of the boat, and lifting hard at the right moments, I was eventually able to retrieve my anchor without having to go swiming. (I assume this was some sort of cosmic payback for smirking at the guy with the fouled anchor next to me in Marsh Harbour.) |
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or just scroll down for the next stop in the Abacos. |
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Tilloo Cay |
| Sunday,
June 1 (continued): While anchored in Hope Town harbor, I contacted a lady on Tilloo Cay via VHF radio who had a litter of kittens, free to good homes. Although we both agreed that they were probably too young to travel by sailboat, she said I could come see them anyway. I reached Tilloo Cut late in the day, and determined by trial and error that the shifting sandbore there, and the deep way around it, weren't where the charts indicated. I eventually stumbled upon enough deep water to get past. I anchored near where the kittens lived around sundown in a shifting current coming from Tilloo Cut. As I passed Tahiti Beach, it looked to me like Yahoe's beachfront bar on Lubbers Quarters was closed down and abandoned. |
| Monday,
June 2: I hailed the kitten caretaker on the radio after breakfast, and rowed my dinghy to their dock, where I was met by large friendly dogs. Up at their beautiful house high on the island, I met many, many cats who gathered around my feet to be pet. The tiny kittens were very cute, but clearly too young to leave home. Besides, all the males were spoken for, and I wanted a male kitten or none at all. The lady suggested I visit Joe's Studio on Man O'War Cay to check out some more kittens and cats. My island hopping was beginning to take on a theme -- visiting felines. |
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or just scroll down for the next stop in the Abacos. |
Man O' War Cay |
| Tuesday,
June 3: I arrived at the entrance to the Man O'War harbor around mid day, which is fortunate. The incredibly small entrance is made even more narrow by the presence of submerged rock ledges on either side of the deep channel. I'd hate to find those the hard way entering there for the first time at night. Once inside the long narrow harbor, one must immediately choose between turning south to an anchorage, or north to a mooring field. I went north, which looked to have the more interesting waterfront. I picked up a mooring very convenient to a grocery store out on a warf. The owner of the mooring arrived within ten minutes in a colorfully painted outboard powered workboat to collect his $10/day fee. During a brief chat, he said he normally wouldn't charge me for day use, but that there were three other cruising sailboats coming in right behind me who had radioed ahead seeking a mooring for the night. I could see these boats approaching from the south as we spoke. I cheerfully handed over the modest fee. Having already cruised the entire mooring field, I knew this was the best, and possibly only, mooring available. |
| (insert images from Man O'War harbor.) |
| I rowed ashore at the grocery store, which was almost
next
door to
Joe's Studio (where I had been told I could check out more
cats).
A very nice young lady at Joe's Studio confirmed that I was in the
right
place, but said I needed to come back at a specific time that evening
to
meet the cats. As I left the shop, I noticed maybe two or
three
cats
lounging around in various shady spots.
Having a few hours to kill, I went sight seeing. The main theme of Man O'War Cay (besides harvesting tourist dollars) seems to be both traditional and modern boat building and repair. There were several beautiful examples of traditional Bahamian sailing craft, which I took my time admiring. Like Hope Town, the streets were too narrow for anything larger than a golf cart. The small wooden houses were very old, well built, and immaculately maintained, as were the yards. While I was waiting for cat time to arrive, I enjoyed an ice cream cone and picked up ice for the boat at the grocery store bult out on a warf near where I had moored. At the appointed hour, I was returning to Joe's Studio, when I spotted a golf cart slowly approaching from the opposite direction along the waterfront street. Behind the cart, cats were coming out from under buildings, down out of trees, from behind bushes, and everywhere else a cat could nap in the shade. They were all falling into line behind this golf cart, like a multi colored furry parade. The cart stopped at Joe's Studio. In the bed of the cart was a big fresh bag of cat food. It was cat feeding time on Man O'War! |
| (insert images of Abaco dinghies, Man O'War harbor cats, etc. outside Joe's Studio.) |
| Also in the rear of the golfcart was a pet carrier
cage
containing two kittens
who were there to meet me. One kitten was not feeling well,
but
the
other appeared quite healthy. He was all white except for
black
ears
and tail and a bold asymetrical black band diagonally across his
face. I thought he was great, but he didn't take to me at
all.
He didn't want to be held, squirmed to get away from me, sulked, and
generally
acted unhappy with the situation. After a long discussion
about
the
importance and responsibility of adopting this unique and special
kitten,
I suggested that we not make any final decision that day.
After visiting with the assembled friendly (and hungry) cats, I rowed back to my boat to spend the night on the paid up mooring. |
| Wednesday,
June 4: After breakfast, I contacted the local cat lady again. I told her that I didn't think the white kitten was happy to have met me. She said he'd been depressed ever since he'd seen me. We agreed that wasn't the kitten for me, but she asked about my schedule in the Abacos, and said she'd keep my call sign handy, as the availability of kittens tended to change without warning. |
| While at Joe's Studio, I picked up an interesting
book on
the history
of Bahamian sailing craft.
(insert info on book) |
|
or just scroll down for the next stop in the Abacos. |
Great Guana Cay(and half-day ferry trip back to Marsh Harbour) |
| Wednesday,
June 4 (continued): A few days before, some one else had mentioned on the morning VHF radio network that they had an extra kitten up on Great Guana Cay. I contacted them by radio to confirm the description and availability of the kitten, and their approximate location. I then raised anchor. As I reached the south end of Great Guana Cay, one of the now routine summer afternoon thunderstorms pounced on me, pushing me towards the shores of Guana with about 30 knot winds and 3' whitecaps. First I lowered the jib, reefed the main, and tried to tack back and forth until the wind and rain abated. It looked like I might be loosing ground toward the rocky lee shore. Not wishing to take unneccesary risks, I finally fired up the engine, lowered the sail, gained some sea room, and put down two anchors to wait out the storm. Within an hour or two, the weather improved, and I sailed on toward the north end of Great Guana Cay. There I picked up a private mooring and rowed in to a long dock out to deep water from a sandy beach. After walking past a large guest house and up a hill, I came to a mansion build high on two huge columns almost like a huge siamese mushroom overlooking the ocean from the top of a volcanic rock cliff. The family with the spare kitten are wonderful people. |
| (insert images of Northstar estate.) |
| All along, I had secretly decided that if I adopted a
kitten in the
Abacos, I would name him "Abaco". I hadn't
mentioned this
to anyone, especially the people offering kittens. What cat
lover
wants to hear that the first thing the new pet owner is going to do is
discard the name you've carefully chosen for this dear precious little
ball of fluff? Well, when I was introduced to the available
kitten,
they told me his name is "Abaco".
The kitten and I
hit it off immediately. He seemed very comfortable being
handled
by me,
and was quite relaxed, not squirming to get away and run hide.
The family and I both knew the next day was veteranarian day in the Abacos islands. The lady had already planned to take Abaco's mother and brother to be neutered. We now added getting Abaco his traveling papers to the list. We agreed we would travel together to the vet the next day. They graciously offered to let me spend the night in their guest house. Abaco joined me, and I fed him his dinner which they had thoughtfully sent along. I tried to get to sleep, but I kept worrying about the condition of the mooring my boat was on. When I first picked it up, I noticed that the loop of the penant was about half worn through. What shape was the rest of the mooring in? At 10pm I got out of bed and rowed back out to the boat, which was hard to find because I'd forgotten to leave an anchor light on. I was trying to row in 2' to 3' waves while peering over my shoulder into the darkness with a flashlight to keep track of my floating destination. I moved the boat off the questionable mooring and onto its own anchors with chafing gear and an anchor light. I was back in bed by 11:pm and was quickly lulled to sleep by the purring kitten. |
| Thursday,
June 5: Thursday started early. Abaco's former master, a teenage boy, needed to get to school. The three cats needed to get boxed up, but there were no cat carriers available. The lady emptied her sewing kit out of a plastic carpenter's toolbox, and attacked it with a drill to create air holes. She stuffed her two cats in the toolbox with room to spare. I suggested that all three would fit, and would work it out OK, as they were family and all. Instead, she produced a woven basket with a lid, and a ribbon to tie it closed for Abaco. Abaco the kitten began screaming with every breath as soon as the lid was on his basket, and didn't stop screaming throughout the rest of the day's adventures. We all piled into a small old pickup truck (lady, teenager, me, and three packaged cats), and roared off to catch the morning ferry. There aren't a lot of "roads" on this island. It was a trip of several miles along two twisting muddy wheel ruts through the jungle. I suspect the lady is one of those people who is perpetually late. She drove like we were competing in the Paris-Dakar Rally. Leaves, branches and vines were flogging the truck as it carreened between the trees. Approaching the many blind turns, she would lay on the horn while continuing to stand on the throttle. I assume the rest of the islanders know that if they hear that combination of blaring horn and wailing truck engine coming towards them, that their lives depend on jumping or swerving into the bushes within the next couple of seconds. We skidded to a dusty stop in the dirt parking lot at the ferry dock just in time to scramble aboard with our feline luggage. The kitten was still screaming. The ferry was crowded with people commuting to jobs on other islands, kids on their way to school in March Harbour, shoppers, etc. The grumpy, possibly hung over, ferry captain grumbled something about hating cats, especially crying kittens. I stratigically chose the passenger seat farthest from the helm. The howl of the huge turbo diesel engine accelerating out across the Sea of Abaco terrified the kitten into even more desperate screams of panic. As soon as we had boarded, all the school kids immediately locked onto the fact that I had a kitten in the basket. They mobbed me. They wanted to know the story behind the kitten in the basket, and where I was taking it. Why did it have to go to the vet? Was it sick? Would it be OK? They wanted to see it, touch it, hold it, take it to school with them, buy it, take it home with them. They wanted to know how much kittens cost, and where they could get another one. The kitten wailed for me not to let them take him alive. I'm sure I made several parents' days by pointing out to the attentive crowd of children that kittens are always available for free to good homes. And that if a parent tells you otherwise, you just haven't yet done a good enough job of convincing them how badly you really want a kitten. It must be true, right? I mean an adult said it, and he had a kitten right there as proof. |
| (insert images of ferry ride.) |
| Two little sisters in particular, maybe around first
grade
age, took
a persistant interest in the kitten. The younger one quickly
claimed
the empty spot on the bench seat on the opposite side of the kitten
basket
from me, and put her arm on the basket as if to indicate to the other
kids
that if anyone was going to get any closer to the kitten, it was going
to be her. Her sister stood there for a moment frowning,
clearly
feeling that as the older one, she should be first in line for any
special
priviledges, and kicking herself mentally for not thinking of that
preemptive
manuever first. Then her face lit up with devious
inspiration.
Smiling, she politely asked me if she could sit in my lap (the ferry
wasn't
really crowded enough for seat sharing to be necessary), and didn't
give
me time to answer before scrambling up. The two girls then
took
turns
distracting me with conversation, while the other one fiddled with the
knotted ribbon holding the lid on the kitten basket. During
the
half
hour boat ride, we arrived a a workable compromise. If the
sisters
would be nice and take turns, I'd pry the basket lid open just far
enough
for one little brown hand at a time to reach in and touch the top of
kitten's head.
When the ferry finally docked at Marsh Harbour, there were several empty Bahamian taxi cabs waiting. As we approached the driver of a worn out rusty minivan with our makeshift containers of wailing cats, she just said, "Vet?" "Yes, to the vet", we replied as she gave the minivan's side door a precise sharp blow to unstick it. A few minutes later, we unloaded our meowing luggage on the doorstep of the local animal clinic to await the hoped for arrival of the traveling veteranarian. There was also a stray dog that had been hit by a car brought in on a stretcher improvised from a piece of old carpet. He didn't appear to be real badly injured. When the vet arrived, he quickly asked us each why we were there, and did a sort of triage prioritizing of his patients. The wounded dog might take a while, but wasn't life-or-death urgent. The cats to be neutered could be done anytime. A kitten for a physical and a shot looked quick and easy. Abaco kitten was in luck. There was no vet assistant or other staff, so I restrained the kitten on the table while the doctor poked, prodded, and injected him. A few minutes later Abaco was back in his basket, and the stray dog was up on the table. The lady left the tool box of cats with the vet, and we hiked back through town together, me carrying the still screaming kitten in the basket on my shoulder. Our next stop was the pet shop, "Pets Are People Too". There I bought a real cat carrier, some kitten kibble, and a tiny harness that a weasle couldn't squirm out of. It may have been intended for ferrets, but it looked like just the thing to prevent a kitten from abandoning ship at an inopportune time. I asked about getting some kitty litter, but the Bahamian looked at me like I was from another planet. "Mon, the cats here, they use sand. We have a lot of it." On the counter was a huge Hymalian cat looking rather inanimate in the tropical heat. I commented that it was alive after all as I petted it. The pet shop clerk said that the huge cat had originally come to her from Freeport, Grand Bahama, where it been discovered as a tiny oil soaked kitten in the filthy bilge water under the engines of a freighter just arrived from the port of Miami. Obviously a lucky cat, it probably had fewer than the usual nine lives remaining. Outside the pet shop, the lady and I headed off in different directions, she to do shopping and run other errands in town, me to hop the next ferry back to Great Guana Cay. I asked her how I might get through the miles of jungle from Great Guana Cay ferry dock back to my anchored boat. She said, "No problem! When the ferry is about half way across the Sea of Abaco, just call Guana Seaside Village (a tourist resort near her estate) on your handheld VHF radio. Tell them you'd like to have lunch, and could they send a car to meet you at the ferry dock." It sounded too good to be true. "Are you sure this will work?", I asked. "I just say I'll order lunch and they come get me?" "Oh, sure. We do it all the time!" she assured me. Well, what do I know? I'm just a stranger in a strange land. I arrived back at the ferry dock just in time to board the next ferry for Great Guana Cay. Once on the ferry, I quickly realized that the roar of the engine would drown out any attempt to use the radio. After I got off the the ferry back on the Great Guana Cay ferry dock, I tried to make my lunch arrangements using my handheld radio. No luck, its antenna and transmitter didn't have the needed range. I could hear the resort talking to other people, but the resort couldn't hear me hailing them. Looking around, I spotted a tall antenna atop the local liquer store. A sure sign that they, like most businesses in the Abacos, had a VHF radio. Leaving my still screaming cargo outside, I asked to use their radio. "Sure! Here, I'll switch it for you", the clerk said. When Guana Seaside Village answered, I gave my well rehersed request for transportation to lunch. "How many in your party?", the radio asked. Oh, oh. A potential snag in the plan. The kitten meowed. "Two", I lied. "Sorry, we only provide transport for parties of three or more. Have a nice day!" Well, it had sounded too good to be true. Back outside by the ferry dock, there was an old shade tree surrounded by a circular picnic table. Lounging about on the table were several Bahamians awaiting rides or the next boat. I inquired as to whether anyone would like to make a few dollars driving me out to the resort. They all agreed that they'd be happy to help, but none of them had a car. I asked which direction I should start walking in. They said, "Mon, you don' wan' be walkin' tha' far in th' jungle in dis heat." (Mid day in the tropics, very hot and humid.) I allowed as how I didn't seem to have much choice. The kitten sounded like he was melting in the carrier. They suggested I try to flag a ride, and indicated which of the three "roads" to start down. The first vehicle I met, a jittney (sort of a large golf cart for carrying passengers), was headed for Nipper's, a popular tourist destination in the opposite direction. The driver stopped and enquired about my situation. He was simpathetic to my need for a ride, but he as headed in the opposite direction, and the jitney was already full to overflowing with passengers. The second vehicle to happen along was heading my way. It was a tiny Japanese Land Rover/Jeep sort of thing which look empty except for the driver, who stopped to ask why I was on foot. He said he was only going a couple of miles in my direction, maybe a third of the distance to my boat. He repeated the warning about trying to walk any distance through the jungle in the heat of the day. I offered money for a ride as far as he was going, but he declined and said to hop in. As it turned out, my chauffer was the owner of a resort, but not the one I needed to reach. As he drove we chatted, and I explained why I had a crying kitten in the carrier. He stopped me and said, "If you're takin' an extra cat off this island, God love ya, mon. I'll see you get to your boat somehow. When we get to the resort, I'll have one of my staff drive you the rest of the way out there." When we pulled in at the resort, he said, "Wait here, I'll be right back. An' don' you open that cage!", indicating the cat carrier. He returned several minutes later. He had been unable to find anyone who worked for him. However, he said his guests were all happily relaxing with frozen tropical rum drinks under the palm trees by the sea, and seemed unlikely to miss either him or his staff for a little while. He shrugged, and then drove me the rest of the way to the gates of the estate where I had left my boat anchored. Once I had hiked the rest of the way to the guest house, I gathered up my overnight baggage, scooped up some beach sand for the cat box, dragged my dinghy down to the water, and piled everything in it for the wet row out to my anchored boat. The water was choppy with whitecaps, and salt spray was flying everywhere as I rowed, including into the cat carrier. The kitten was crying louder than ever. From his point of view, this day had been nothing but one bad experience after another. When I finally got the dinghy along side my boat, the first thing I did was transfer the cat carrier to the sailboat's cockpit. As soon as the carrier hit the cockpit seat, the crying stopped. The kitten didn't cry again for a week. |
|
or just scroll down for the next stop in the Abacos. |
Green Turtle Cay(Black Sound) |
| Thursday,
June 5 (continued): After securing things in the cabin for rough water, I radioed ahead for a report on conditions in Whale Cay passage. Some one replied that there were 3' seas and a storm was approaching, but that the passage was usable at the moment. I retrieved my anchors, and headed that way. Whale Cay passage demanded my full attention, but not miserable. A large thunderstorm threatened to pounce on me the whole time I was outside the Whale, but didn't actually catch up with me. The kitten snoozed on the cabin the entire time. While still within radio range of the folks who gave me the cat, I called to let them know he was doing fine, and had finally stopped crying. That night, I anchored off New Plymouth, on the south end of Green Turtle Cay, just outside of Black Sound. |
| Friday,
June 6: The next morning, inquiries made over the radio regarding the availability of fuel and ice weren't encouraging. It was the beginning of a four-day holiday weekend in the Bahamas, and many businesses were going to be closed. After hearing Other Shore Club Marina in Black Sound doing business over the VHF, I headed that way. Access to the only available dockside fuel was temporarily blocked by an inter-island tanker which was having trouble disconnecting their transfer line, or something. I milled about along with a few other boats in need of fuel. Eventually the tanker left, and fuel became available. While I waited, I tied up and helped the dock crew muscle a 40' to 50' sailboat to a different slip as a favor to its singlehanding owner. There was also a Westsail style cruising sailboat there, with the owner doing an amazing amount of work to the teak decks. I thought, now that's an aspect of owning teak decks that the sailing magazines tend to gloss over... Eventually I got my fuel, their last three bags of ice, and dropped off my trash. I would have liked to slurp down a frozen rum concoction at a nearby sea side bar I noticed, but I didn't want to leave my boat blocking the fuel pumps. |
| (insert images from Black Sound.) |
| At this point in my adventure (June 6), I had decided
that
it would
be a good time to start wandering back towards home. The
weather
was becoming consistantly rainy, and I now had the adopted kitten
aboard
to deal with. My original "schedule" of about a month away
from
home,
give or take a week or so, indicated that I shouldn't linger much
longer
this far out. Also, it was now officially a week into
hurricane
season.
I set course for the Cooperstown area. Leaving Black Sound and sailing along the northeast coast of Great Abaco Island, I had very good sailing winds from a beam reach to a broad reach. As sundown approached, I was conveniently close to a good anchorage just west of Angel Fish Point. I joined a small number of cruising sailboats there for the night. After a pleasant dinner of potato and leek soup, the kitten insisted on washing the dishes. |
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