19 July 2008
The contrast between our last few days in the Exumas and the hoopla of Nassau is unsettling. I got used to our slow days and quiet evenings in empty anchorages more than I realized. I thought I was missing the civilization of restaurants, stores and entertainment, yet when I got all of that in Nassau, I wished we were still in the Exumas. There is a lesson in this observation and despite the fact that we have spent a lot of time thinking and talking about “living in the now” on this trip, apparently I have not quite succeeded. Like the lizard above, I should learn to just stay still and soak the moment in for as long as I can.
The last few cays of the Exumas provided some memorable moments for us. Sometimes the best comes when not much is expected. On chart, Shroud Cay didn’t appear to hold much interest. The shores are lined with mangroves which makes exploration on foot impossible. Instead we hopped in the dinghy and started exploring the shallow channels that crisscross the Cay, calmly winding its way among the mangroves, providing shelter for birds and fish. In fact, for a shallow draft boat, the channels could provide a decent hurricane shelter. We meandered through many turns until the channel suddenly widened and opened to the other side of the island with one of the most spect
acular beaches we have seen. The water was a deep turquoise in the middle of the channel, changing to the slightest shade where it spilled onto the white sandy beach with just a hint of pink. With the change of tide the water in the channel was running quite fast and we kept floating down the mouth to the sandbar just outside in the ocean, then running back to do it over again. The water, even on the wild side of the islands is warm, but when we dig our hands half a foot into the sand, it is nice and cool. No wonder so many of the sea creatures live inside the sand.
Leaving Shroud Cay the next day, we stop at Norman’s Cay, a private island with shady history tied to the Medellin drug cartel. Purchased by its boss sometime in the seventies, it served as a waypoint to smugg
le drugs to the US. There is a wreck of a good sized plane in the bay that sits just below the surface and we anchor close by to check it out. I heard and read two stories about the plane. One said that it was shot down, the other that the pilot was high on drugs and missed the runway. He missed by a lot I might add. We snorkel around the plane that is still in an amazingly good shape, including the full body (sans cargo) and wings, a propeller on one of the wings and even some wiring in the cockpit. Small patches of coral are starting to envelope the wreck. I should note that while I like looking at coral and small colorful fish, I am never very comfortable snorkeling, especially when there are giant rays, nurse sharks and barracudas swimming around me. I have learned that none of them will bite me unless I bite them first (an unlikely situation), but that does not mean that I am comfortable around them. Throw a wreck of a plane into the mix and all I can think of is a big shark hiding in the belly of the plane waiting to surprise me. So I tentatively stick my head into the plane, making sure that Kuno is nearby as potential bait. 
And then it’s just an overnight stop before we set out toward Nassau over the shallow Yellow Bank. The name is quite appropriate as the water here really changes from turquoise to yellow. We are not sure why. It is a good thing that we have the habit of having a lookout on the bow when crossing the banks, as this time we come across a number of coral heads that are not marked on the chart. It is hard to say how close to the surface they reach, to us they just appear as black patches in the water. We don’t take a chance and steer around them.
The Atlantis resort and marina on Paradise Island across from Nassau will be our home for the next four days and we can see its massive towers for hours before anything else of the island appears. We have been warned by many people that anchoring in Nassau is difficult and there are a lot of break-ins, even in some of the marinas. While Atlantis is outrageously expensive, it has the added attraction of an enormous water park. I am not sure who is more excited about it – Kuno or Tatiana. The marina wrap itself around the casino and the hotel and despite being 
fully booked, we end up being the only sailboat there, and as such a bit of a curiosity. This is definitely the land of power boaters. The more horsepower and fishing rods, the better. The water park turns out to be a lot of fun and not surprisingly, Kuno ends up being the most adventurous. Several slides feature nearly vertical drops and while I am quite happy to watch others scream as they plunge down and contemplate potential safety issues (like what would happen if one leaned forward on the vertical drop), Kuno lines up for slides with names like The Abyss and Leap of Faith. Tatiana is somewhere in between, not a chicken like I, but with a healthy sense of life preservation. Our favourite feature is The Current, a mile long circular river where one floats through waves, rapids, tunnels etc on a tube. Elevation is gained by being transported up, tube and all, on a conveyor before continuing onto another round. One can take a detour to various tube slides, most of them pretty wild. Unfortunately too wild for me as I end up with a whiplash. Atlantis also has some well done 
aquariums and we get to see hammerhead sharks, manta rays and the recently transferred (I think from Asia) lion fish that is spreading throughout the Bahamas and devouring reef fish at an alarming pace. Just like with the Portuguese Man-o-War, I am struck by the combination of a beautiful form and deadly impact. The rest of Atlantis feels artificial, overdone and overpriced and after four days we don’t mind leaving. Perhaps it just feels that way to us because of the pristine places we have just seen.
Back on the water, we are now in the deep again and it is time to pull out the fishing line. And this time we succeed. It seems appropriate that I am just reading Hemingway’s classic The Old Man and the Sea about an old fisherman catching his biggest marlin ever. And while our fish is tiny compared to that, it does many of the tricks that the story describes. Regardless of the size, there is a sense of excitement for me, who has never fished before. Sometimes the fish speeds up and with no pull on the line it feels like we have lost him, other times he dives or goes sideways causing Kuno to wonder how big he actually is. When we pull him out, he is beautiful, with big eyes and yellow sides. But the color quickly vanishes once he is out of the water. We are sure it is a tuna, but it is more difficult to tell what kind; we settle on Big Eye Tuna. Delicious dinner follows.
Our last stop before leaving Bahamas is Bimini, Hemingway’s fishing port. Here, the near presence of Florida can be really felt, as powerboats from Miami can, in good weather, cross within a few hours. There are more boats on the horizon than we have seen in weeks. We even see several sailboats. We arrive in Bimini in the morning after a night sail from the Berry Islands. The wind is light and we motorsail most of the eighty mile trip. Sailing at night has become comfortable for us and we switch our watches depending on the wind, the trickiness of the passage and how tired each of us feels. The only difference is that with the increasing boat traffic, we have to be much more alert now. Sometime toward the morning the wind died completely and as I wake up, we are gliding on 13 feet of completely still water, able to see the minute detail of the underwater life as if in an aquarium. It has a surreal feeling. We watch a barracuda make a quick pass and a little fish is no more. We see sea stars and blades of grass at the bottom. Not a ripple disturbs the water other than the wake of our bow.
But wind is our friend in more than one way as we soon come to realize. The stillness brings out the heat and bugs and it is virtually impossible to keep the boat at a reasonable temperature without letting in the bugs. As we are in a marina, we plug into the shore power and start up all of the fans that we have on the boat (a total of five), but even then it is barely bearable. Undeterred though, we explore the North Bimini Island, first on a dinghy and then on an rented electric golf cart that has seen much better days (many, many years ago). Offroading is definitely not its strength and Tatiana and I have to push it out of the deep sand when we take it a bit beyond its limits. Bimini is completely geared toward fishing, but, to my surprise, has very little tourism infrastructure otherwise. Even finding a decent restaurant for lunch turns out to be a challenge. But, to our excitement, the mailboat arrived today (it comes once a week) and that means fresh fruit and vegetables in the store. We load up on apples, bananas and tomatoes, as we haven’t seen anything fresh for days. Even Tatiana, who loves to live on pasta and rice, is desperate for something fresh.
But progress is coming Bimini’s way and a change is in the making as a grandiose resort / marina / vacation housing project is being developed in the northern part of the island. We have seen the same happening on many of the Bahamian islands and although the islands are by no means untouched by tourism, I suspect that it is nothing compared to what it will be in ten years’ time. Especially on the islands close to Florida. Perhaps the Out Islands will keep their innocence longer.
A new life springs into us as the wind picks up again the next day and Tatiana and I decide to
climb the mast, something we haven’t done before. Climb is a bit of an overstatement, as in reality Kuno winches each of us up in a bosun’s seat, with only a slight help from us whenever we can step on the mast spreaders or pull up on the shrouds. Our mast is 54 ft high above the water and that is pretty high when one is perched up top. 
But the view is fantastic. To give us a sense of what it is like when there are waves (we are in a marina), Kuno rocks the boat. While I am quite tentative about this, Tatiana thinks this is great fun and asks if we can do it more often. I am just hopeful that I will never have to climb the mast while underway.
After more then a month, it is time to say goodbye to the Bahamas and embark on our last sail of the trip, forty miles to Fort Lauderdale. A truck is scheduled to pick up Blue Moon in a week’s time for its long journey to the Pacific Northwest. I hope she will like it there…
No comments:
Post a Comment