Can You Hear Me Now??

Staying Connected

One of the many challenges of cruising is staying connected to friends and family via phone calls, emails, skype (or other VOIP), and social networking.  AT&T and, perhaps, other phone carriers, have an arrangement with Bahamas Telephone Company (Batelco) that allows visitors to use their stateside phones while in the islands.  While a nice convenience, this is actually an expensive option and one that few long-term cruisers use.  Instead, many of us opt for suspending our stateside accounts and signing up with Batelco service.  An unlocked phone or iPad is all that’s needed to use their data cards; and, if we all stayed in Nassau, this post would end right here.  But we don’t, so it doesn’t. 

Bar Hopping

Having a tech-savvy husband on board is very handy when navigating the shifting sands of connectivity.  I consider myself lucky as I am on a strictly need-to-know basis when it comes to how my magical iPad connects to the world beyond.  Now that Jeanette is enrolled in an online program, though, I have been forced to reach past the bounds of my comfort zone (think paper and pencil, cards and stamps).  I now know that if no wifi is available, the phone signal needs to be at least 3 bars (preferably 4) to connect to Jeanette’s program.  As such, our route planning now includes estimating the number of bars we might be able to obtain at each island so that we can run J’s school off the phone, if needed.  Surprisingly, we’ve been able to make this work, even as we travel in and out of no service zones.  Sometimes it requires a little ingenuity, like running the phone up a halyard to the top of the mast.  Other times, we just need to implement our wifi booster – again, running it up a halyard to maximize receptivity.  Once, Jeanette completed a discussion-based assessment with one of her teachers while reclining on top of the boom for the best reception.  A little unorthodox, perhaps, but it works.

School happens whenever there's a connection

Preparing the iPhone for height

Flag halyard serves double duty

Hello? Hello? Can you hear me Joe???

Just because we have a cell phone with 3 bars of service doesn’t mean that it always works.  Something strange seems to happen when placing a call and, frequently, the call is incomplete or diverted to a different number or the person on the other end can’t hear us.  A couple of weeks ago when my brother called me for my birthday, I found myself in the middle of a Dr. Seuss dialogue:  "Hello? Hello? Can you hear me Joe??"  Skype (video) is blocked by the Bahamian Telecom company but we have managed to complete a couple of calls using Google Talk over the internet.  Though we receive cell phone calls with no charge, calling the USA is expensive so we only use the phone when necessary.  Social networking is almost out of the question. We easily receive Facebook notifications via email, but logging into FB uses up data due to all the pictures on it. In the Bahamas, we rarely use FB unless we have a strong wifi signal.  Private messages, comments, and inquiries can go unanswered for long periods of time until we are connected once again and have bandwidth to spare.    

Jeanette completing an oral assessment with her teacher

Channel Surfing

Compared to the frustrations of phones and wifi, communicating with other cruisers is a breeze.  With a Single Side Band radio (SSB), a Very High Frequency radio (VHF), and a satellite messenger (via our tracker), we have 3 reliable ways to be in touch with other boaters and receive messages from home.  On a day-to-day basis, we rely almost exclusively on VHF radio for our communications.  Using the VHF has meant learning a new vocabulary along with radio etiquette.  “Working channel,” “Copy that,” “Roger,” “Over,” “Break,” and “Up one,” are terms that have worked their way into everyday parlance.  Jeanette, especially, fumbles when making the switch from VHF and sailor talk to phone conversations, where I frequently hear her say “copy that” to her teachers. 

In some ways, the VHF is like texting – conversations are typically short and to the point and oriented around plans for getting together.  No one wants to tie up a channel for long and if you do, you’re liable to get “stepped on” but another caller.  Some locales have taken over a specific channel.  For George Town, channel 68 is the community line for hailing other boaters and making general announcements.  Think “party line” for a couple hundred boats and you’ll have a good idea of what it’s like.  Our kid-boat caravan selected a separate channel so that we could communicate freely amongst ourselves and not have to listen in on irrelevant chatter.  After using the VHF for so long now, a phone seems almost inordinately complicated what with all the numbers, dial tones, call waiting, voicemails etc. Just hail me on the radio and we can talk while we walk the beach. 

  

The Hunt

The hunt begins

Long fins drove the silent hunter through transparent waters. The tropical sun dappled the white sand bottom with shifting shadows as a strong wind tore at the water’s surface. A school of Margates, some dozen strong, gathered near one of the isolated coral heads that rose a few feet from the bleached bottom. A few of the larger Margates were at least eighteen inches long, well worth consideration. Suddenly, a dark flicker against the white sand bottom receded into the distant blue horizon drawing the hunter's attention. A trio of much larger Margates, nearly twice the size of their brethren, were swimming casually towards the rock where the smaller Margates huddled as they nervously eyed the black quadruped studying them from afar.

Abandoning the smaller targets for the larger, the hunter withdrew to the surface for a deep breath and then jackknifed into the crystalline depths, avoiding sudden movements that might startle the bigger fish. Sensing trouble, the trio split, each headed in a different direction – and away from the ungainly grey and black shape that intruded into their domain. Silvery-white scales blended seamlessly with the sandy background of the bottom. Only the dark flick of the tail and the smaller dorsal fins gave away their location.

Carefully kicking twenty feet to the bottom, the hunter lined up behind a lone Margate. Suspecting trouble, it now moved first to the left and then to the right, trying to keep an obsidian eye on the strange creature that followed behind. As the gap slowly closed, the Margate anxiously twitched away from the dark form. Too late! A shiny shaft leapt from the hunter's hand and struck the fish’s side. Exploding away from the encounter, the fish raced towards a safe haven, but few of the coral heads nearby could protect a fish of his bulk. The hunter's thrust had hurt the Margate, but not enough to disable it.

First tag of the Margate

Now, the hunter was forced to return to his world for air. As he rose towards the shimmering light, he kept his eye on his wounded quarry. From past experience, the hunter knew that his target might escape to another rock in the briefest instant of looking away. Quite a few fish had been lost that way. This one would not escape as easily.

Forcing deep breaths into starved lungs, the hunter dove again into the depths. The coral head chosen for refuge had a large gap along the bottom. A silvery form nervously twitched inside, wanting to escape, but knowing that certain risk existed outside the coral walls that provided protection.

The hunter drew back the pole spear stretching the elastic bands at one end to their limits and tightly gripping the spear shaft. Once he released his grip, the spear would leap forwards and penetrate the fish, but only if he was within a foot of his target. Further away and the spear might only bounce off the fish – especially if the bony head was hit instead of the softer body behind the head.

Now inches above the powdery bleached debris of the ocean floor, the hunter came ever closer to the coral head and the hidden form within. Reaching forwards, almost out of air, the hunter loosened his grip and the spear knifed through the water, penetrating the fish behind the gills. The stainless steel point passed all the way through the body. As the startled fish jerked to get away from the sudden pain, two hinged barbs deployed, preventing the spear from pulling out of the fish.

You can run, but you can't hide!

As the fish desperately tried to swim away, jerking the pole from side to side, the hunter dragged his quarry to the surface and the air he urgently needed. Powerful thrusts of his fins sent him rushing to the surface. Breaking the surface, he sucked in a deep breath as he struggled to lift his bleeding fish above the water. It wouldn’t do to let its anxious movements and leaking fluids encourage any of the sharks in the area to come investigate further.

With the fish safely in the dinghy, the hunter returned to his lonely quest. The waters were vast and seemingly limitless with fish. It was a good day.

The Jumentos and Ragged Islands are truly gems in the Bahamas archipelago. They are a string of small cays and rocks that form a “C” shape about 30 miles south of the Exumas. The southernmost island, is only sixty miles from Cuba. What sets this area apart is a combination of spectacularly clear water and fish of all sizes and shapes. Sure, there are powdery white beaches and palm trees, but you’ll find that everywhere in the Bahamas. This place has the best fishing of any area I’ve seen. When I say “fishing”, I mean spearing. Snorkeling until you find your quarry and then trying to get it in the dinghy and onto the dinner table.

A Flamingo Cay mermaid!

I first tried fishing last year, introduced to it by my friends Bernie and Andrea on Rollick. I was a dismal failure for most of my experience. Last year, I might have speared about a dozen fish, but most of them were Glasseye snappers, which basically are frozen in place – hoping their dark red color hides them. It doesn’t at all, and luckily they are tasty eating with a delicate white flesh. However, they rarely are larger than a foot – so we don’t fillet them, we cook them whole and eat them.

It’s been a real struggle to learn which fish to go after and understand their behaviors. The more exposure the fish have to mankind, the more skittish they are, so in the Exumas, the fish are very wary. In the Jumentos, the fish are much less startled by human interlopers and there are ten times the amount of fish – especially larger ones.

OK, which one of you wants to get eaten? 

We spent about five days at Flamingo Cay with Rollick. The wind was howling 20-25 knots the whole time we were there, but the island protected us and sheltered the waters that were our hunting grounds. Every day we’d go out in the dinghies for a couple hours and look for fish. Everywhere else I’ve been, you have to find big complex reefs to find fish. Here, in 20-25 feet of water, there were isolated coral heads of much smaller size – seemingly too small to support the bigger fish. But they were everywhere! Every day would bring hogfish, snapper, margates and grouper to our dinghies. Instead of spending all day looking for fish, we were full-up within an hour or two. It was a bountiful feast!

There is certainly something primal about hunting for food. For me, so immersed in technology and the modern world, it is a radical transformation to become a hunter. The fact that we have to use the thrust of our spear, instead of some high-tech alternative, grounds us further in the past. The fact that I can feed my family doing this puts me in touch with men reaching back to the dawn of our time.

Even if the next time I go out and completely fail at getting fish, I did have this one period of time when I reached into the distant past and became something else - just one more of our many Bahamas memories.

If you can't see the video preview, click on this link: Video of our trip to Flamingo Cay

 

Margates on the dining table!

Yellow-tail snapper and Hog-fish

Big Margate and small Hog fish

Sailing Regatta – Two Ways

Old School

In early February, we made our way to Little Farmer’s Cay for the popular 5F (Farmer’s First Friday in February Festival).  The festival organizers put together a lot of activities for the kids – scavenger hunt, 3-legged race, hermit crab races – and there were plenty of little people to compete and engage in the fun.  The big draw of the festival, though, was the Class B sloop regatta.  For two days, the sleepy runway was buzzing with small planes delivering crew and spectators to the regatta site while live bands provided entertainment between races.  These beautiful traditional Bahamian sloops are handmade by local boatwrights and look like giant birds swooping low across the water.  Conditions were very windy and gusty.  In fact, the races were postponed for a day to give the weather time to settle down.  Nonetheless, there were some capsizes and at least one collision as the teams tried to negotiate the big winds.  The George Town boat, the favorite, won 2 of the 3 races, and was the champion for the second year in a row. 

Note the boards for hiking out (photo credit Bernie)

Hiking out (photo credit Bernie)

Ocean Cabin was the hub for activities - loved the "hours"

Fresh conch salad to order

New School

This past week marked our second year participating in the George Town Cruiser’s Regatta.  We entered our boat in the big boat races and had two fabulous days of sailing with friends.  The wind over the course of the week was either non-existent or windy.  Fortunately, both race days had plenty of wind.  The Around-the-Harbor race got a little crazy with some of the mono-hulls carrying too much sail for the conditions, and many of the boats experiencing equipment failures.  Dream Catcher blew a jib sheet block as we tacked to the windward finish line, and I watched nervously as the coach top flexed under our jury-rigged “quick fix.”  We were near the end of the race so we didn’t stress the boat for too long, and a more permanent fix was in place by the time we were settling back into our anchorage. 

Bernie - Chief Tactician

Wendy the Winch Wench

Two days later, the Around-Stocking-Island race was also very windy and we exited the north entrance into confused seas.  Our first thought was that the conditions were just about perfect for catching a Mahi!  Up came the frozen Ballyhoo and the fishing rod and out went the line for trolling.  Unfortunately, our speed was probably too fast and our time outside the harbor too short to realistically catch anything.  Nonetheless, it made us feel good to think the race was serving double duty. 

Patrick and Tim, our Montreal crew

Pendragon, tearing up the course

Multihull fleet

The big boat racing was just a small part of the week long regatta, though, and not even the featured event!  Activities ranged from the skilled (e.g., sailing dinghy racing, pétanque, beach volleyball) to the ridiculous (e.g., blind row racing, downwind dinghy racing, model boat racing).  The emphasis was most definitely on fun as evidenced by the fact that all members of the winning team for the coconut challenge (don’t ask) received bottles of rum while only the winning skipper of the big boat race received a bottle of rum (can you say "mutiny"?)! 

 

Every day is kids' day! (Ally, Jeanette, and Lily)

There was a dedicated kids day, too, with face-painting, wacky relays, egg toss, and tug of war events.  For the cruiser kids, though, every day is a fun day as they swim from boat to boat, go on beach hikes, play on water trampolines, have doll parties, movie nights, etc. 

Jeanette and Ally go exotic

Bella Ella - Nyad princess

Jack Sparrow pays a visit to kids' day

Ken and Bernie sport their pirate looks

Coleen and Jeanette

Tug of war - boys

Tug of war - girls (So many kids here!)

With the end of “the season” coming up fast and boats now standing by for weather windows to move south, there is a sense of urgency as we try to squeeze every last drop out of the fun we’ve all had together.   Our time here is now measured in weeks and after one more jaunt to The Raggeds, we’ll be looking to begin making our way slowly north.  In the meantime, though, we have not yet tired of the sparkling water, the spectacular sunsets, and the dazzling night sky. 

"Double" sunset

Double rainbow

Long Island Valentine

Exit Strategy

A couple of weeks ago, we took advantage of a break in the strong winds to head over to Long Island for a few days.  After two days of light winds we anticipated that exiting the harbor would be a breeze.  Although the waves were not terribly large, they were terribly confused and we had to endure about 20 minutes of a washing machine before escaping into more organized seas with a longer swell period.  With reefs all around us, we had an amazing view of a tempestuous sea state crashing against into the shallows.  It was a spectacular sight – especially as our friends on Rollick came through behind us, seemingly swallowed up by the waves.  We had numerous boats hail us to confirm conditions, including one boat that was entering the harbor without accurate charts!  Ken gave him waypoints to follow and we hoped that they would find their way safely inside.  As we reached the banks, the water settled down and we had a fabulous sail across to Long Island and beautiful views of Rollick flying their colorful spinnaker.

Rollers waiting for us as we exit Elizabeth Harbor

Rollick, behind us....

...and in smoother waters

Dream Catcher underway

Happy Captain

The Other Long Island

As its name suggests, Long Island, is a long skinny island with several settlements and a fairly robust population considering its remote location.  We pulled into Miller’s Bay by mid-afternoon and strolled the long stretch of beach there.  The sand is very different, being more golden brown and granular than the powdery white sands to which we’ve grown accustomed.  It didn’t stop the girls from swimming, building sand castles, and shelling all afternoon.  Jeanette hung out with Alex and Jordan that evening, while Bernie, Andrea, Ken and I had an early Valentine's Day dinner at Chez Pierre on shore.  

Alex and Jeanette with a Valentine's Day cupcake on Rollick

The next morning we moved over to Thompson Bay, where most of the cruiser action takes place.  Happily, our visit coincided with Saturday’s farmer’s market and we joined the procession from the dinghy dock up the hill to the old open-air building which houses the market.   It was quite a lively scene, with numerous vendors selling homemade gifts, jams, jellies, and produce.  We recognized one of the vendors as the waitress from our dinner out the night before, and made a point of buying some of her goods, including some Long Island sea salt. 

To market, to market!

Thompson Bay Farmers Market

Local produce, crafts, and homemade goodies (photo from Rollick)

Handmade straw goods (photo courtesy of Rollick)

Fresh coconut water

Getting Away From It All

After being immersed in the kid-boat caravan for several weeks, we were all yearning for a real getaway.  We weighed anchor first thing the next morning and set out for the unknown.  Our first stop was at Nuevitas Rocks off the southwestern part of Long Island.   With great visibility and an extensive reef to explore, we snorkeled and fished, collecting fish, lobster, and conch for dinner. 

One Margate, two Hogfish, three meals

By mid-afternoon, we needed to move on in order to squeeze into our next anchorage with the high tide.  Motoring into the channel between Dollar Cay and Sandy Cay was like entering paradise.  The channel is fairly narrow, a ribbon of deep blues and greens ending abruptly as the bottom shallows precipitously to shoals and sandbars that stretch to the horizon.  The sand, while inviting, is not especially firm and we all got a great workout the next day as we walked all over the islands, at times sinking up to our knees in the soft sand.  

The view from 60' up

Rollick at anchor in Dollar Harbor

Ken and Jeanette with nothing but sandbar for miles around

All things considered, it's surprising we don't see more of these!

Looking across at the channel entrance

We left early the next morning as our weather window began to close down.  Tucking up amidst dozens of other boats in Red Shanks (George Town) that evening felt foreign and unfamiliar after the indescribable beauty we’d left behind us.  Yet, I have fixed that harbor in my mind and find myself returning to it again and again, like a touchstone for peace, tranquility, and a sense of all’s right with the world.  Truly heaven on earth!