Friends with Benefits
One of the best things about buddy boating is learning from
each other – route planning, repairs and improvements, a favorite
fishing/lobster spot, the best sandbar, and the nicest snorkeling areas.
Isla Bonita and
Makana
have been sailing and diving these waters for years and we've both learned
from them and explored new gems together.
One of our favorite discoveries so far has been Saddle Cay.
It doesn’t look like much on the chart,
but it's a beautiful anchorage with fantastic snorkeling in every direction.
From drift diving through a trench full
of colorful corals, to floating above shallow coral heads with their exclusive
communities, we spent hours in the water.
A long sandbar at low tide provided a convenient meeting ground for the
kids and a place for playing.
Since there is always another "perfect" spot just around the bend, after a couple days we moved onto Shroud
Cay, an island we skipped over last year. We loved taking the
dinghy up through the creek to the ocean on the other side.
Stingrays glided below while herons
skimmed the surface - another magical place.
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| Creek at Shroud Cay |
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| Shroud Cay - ocean side |
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| Jeanette hitches a ride with Ella |
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| Ken and Eric (Makai) troubleshoot the watermaker - AGAIN! |
Our loose caravan of “kid
boats” has more or less stuck together as we've traveled south, in order to give our children the social
interaction they crave.
Boat toys
are shared and the kids not only learn new skills, but are challenged to find
common ground and negotiate relationships with children both older and
younger and at various stages of development.
For the parents, sharing kid-watching duties as the game of
musical boats progresses throughout the day means everyone gets a break at
some point.
Warderick Wells’ Christmas II
With the wind forecasted to turn south, we all moved on to Warderick Wells for Christmas.
Moored in the North field, we experienced déjà vu as we picked up where we left off last year.
Hiking, beaching, sailing the Pico, and snorkeling, all the while gazing around at pristine beauty – this is a place to love and cherish.
Our friends on
Makai joined us here, as did
Proud Mary – a boat family we met in passing in Bimini and picked up again in Shroud.
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| Big Lobster taunts us from the safety of the Exuma Land and Sea Park |
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| Christmas with Ken's mom, Marie |
By Christmas Eve we were up to 20 kids,
including 2 who were visiting on island and 2 of the park ranger’s children.
Both
Makai and
Dream Catcher
have projectors now and watching a movie projected onto a sheet at the stern
has become a popular way to pass the evenings.
Our cockpit is sometimes challenged by the number of kids,
but there always seems to be room for one more.
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| Ken and Jeanette take the Pico out for a spin |
Let the Reindeer Games Begin!
For Christmas Eve, Ken organized a “Reindeer Games” event
and engaged some of the parents to help run seven events.
With 10 kids on each team, the
Elves and the
Reindeer, ranging in age from 4 to 15 years old, proved to be tough, but well-matched
competitors.
Thoroughly worn out
after 2 hours in the hot afternoon sun, we rewarded both teams with lots of
sugary treats and a quiet evening spent on their own boats.
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| Reindeer Games |
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| Tug of war |
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| How to torture children with marshmallows |
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| Snowman (maiden) theme sand sculpture contest |
As with last year, the park rangers hosted a potluck up at the main house on Christmas Day. Turkey, ham, mac and cheese (a staple in the Bahamas), dozens of side dishes and desserts, made for a leisurely afternoon of nibbling and visiting. Comfortably sated, we swam in the crystalline water as late afternoon turned to evening, and made our way to the sandbar in an unsuccessful attempt to escape the no-see-ums that had invaded the windless anchorage. The next morning, we left the protection of this beautiful anchorage and set off for the solitude of Pipe Cay.
Raging Waters
Traveling between islands nearly always raises the question
of “inside or outside” – meaning the Exuma Bank side or the Exuma Sound side.
Most of the time, the smoother waters
of the bank are preferred.
Accommodations can be made to stop and snorkel along the way and,
sometimes, the inside route is simply shorter and/or safer.
The sound side is deeper and requires
negotiating one, and, most likely, two cuts (narrow channels, or inlets,
between islands), which can be treacherous when the wind and tide oppose each
another.
To the uninitiated,
transiting a cut can be preceded with much nail biting, teeth gnashing, and obsessive
checking and re-checking of wind direction, charts and tide schedules.
In fact, the guidebooks make the cuts
sound quite formidable and, for boaters who don’t have a clear understanding of
what they’re doing, that can certainly be the case.
Swirling currents, standing waves, and breakers can make for
a daunting spectacle.
Certain cuts
are known for developing “rages,” and their tumultuous waters can be so furious
that the cut simply becomes impassable.
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| Skinny cut at Saddle Cay |
By now, though, Ken generally makes a good call where cuts are concerned
and, with both engines engaged, we’ve negotiated even the tightest spots with
no problems. Given acceptable
weather, we greatly prefer running the cuts and going on the outside, where the
routes are usually shorter and the sailing often better.
Another reason is that we prefer
deepwater fish (e.g., mahi or wahoo) instead of reef fish (e.g., snapper or
grouper).
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| Mahi - yay! |
After several trials and
broken lines, it seems we’ve finally figured out how to manage the boat and the
rod to maximize our odds of landing a fish.
Large fish like mahi will provide several meals for the 3 of
us, whereas a typical reef fish will yield 1 meal for 1 person.
Of note, in order to minimize the risk
of
ciguatera poisoning, we usually hunt for reef fish on the smaller side (< 6
lbs).
Although we don’t know
anyone personally who’s been afflicted, we’ve heard enough stories to be wary,
if not slightly paranoid.
In any
case, catching a fish is always time for celebration on board, and even the cat
seems to know that she’s in for a sushi dinner.
Twining herself around my legs and purring loudly, her eyes
do not leave her bowl until it’s been loaded with fish bits and placed within
reach.
Her enthusiasm is matched
only by that of the crew, who would be happy to eat fish every day.
The Great Equalizer
The other night, Jeanette spent the evening on
Makai watching
Swiss Family Robinson.
I well remember that movie from my own childhood and the sense of
adventure, uncertainty, and excitement that it inspired.
Once reserved for the well funded,
intrepid, hardy (or foolhardy) few, adventures have increasingly opened up to
the masses.
Anyone with an iPad
can now download the latest chart and navigation information and, in spite of
the economy, the ready access to data has opened up cruising to more rather
than fewer boaters.
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| Makai at the end of the rainbow (Pipe Cay) |
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| Williams Bay (Lee Stocking Island) |
While we are
certainly on an adventure here, our boating lifestyle is somewhere around the
midpoint between truly roughing it and living in the lap of luxury.
Fully crewed mega-yachts outfitted with
helipads and tenders nearly the size of our boat rub elbows with vessels barely
afloat whose creature comforts consist of a cooler and a flushable head.
My frustrations on board are quelled by
the knowledge that
it could be worse
and on previous boats, I’ve certainly experienced more rustic accommodations.
So, while I may gaze longingly at
someone’s open galley, generous cockpit, or spacious staterooms, I am not at
all displeased with what we have.
Water
is the great equalizer and no matter what your boat, a cruiser is a cruiser,
joined by the common experience of plying aquamarine depths, savoring tranquil
anchorages, and reveling in the liquid velvet of a night sky unmarred by lights.
Swinging on the hook at George Town, I
gaze at the nearly 200 boats in the harbor and know that, though we are all
coming to this place from different circumstances, there is an abiding sense of
gratitude for the opportunity to be here.
With every sunrise, I find myself waking in awe of our
surroundings and hoping with all my heart that this season will not be our
last time sailing these waters.
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| Williams Bay |
