South in the Bahamas

Leave we did, before sunset, after dinner and well rested, for a 90 nm overnight sail to Conception Island.  We started with the genoa.  The wind died and we motored for some hours.  The moon was nearly full.  About three in the morning we saw the double layered defined edge of the front stretched across the entire NW horizon and comin’ at us.  Truly threatening.  Lightning flashed here and there.  We battened down, suited up and motored on, waiting for a blast of wind to begin our battle.  Instead, rain began, the wind built slowly and the lightning struck elsewhere.  About 5 am we unrolled the genoa and broad reached fast on seas that hadn’t built yet.  After daybreak we took advantage of a lull in the still building wind to roll up the genoa and hoist the jib, which carried us the rest of our way.  My one disappointment from the night was to find my foul weather pants leak badly.  Tired, our next day was a day to rest and explore. 

Next up?  A short day to Rum Cay (by the way, “Cay” is pronounced “key” here).  Where the guidebook describes a marina, some restaurants and says under a hundred souls live.  We hoped to grocery shop there.  On our approach we tried to raise the marina on our vhf radio.  One of the boats there answered and said that if we were going to come in we better do it soon because high tide had just gone by.  With a little more consideration, we decided to anchor out and dinghy in.  We closely followed the guidebook directions.  And the chart showed a sectional light to follow – the part of its arc that shows red is where the dangers are, the sector that is yellow deserves caution, and the narrow (in this case) white sectors are safe.  While the light itself wasn’t functioning, the chart showed the sectors clearly, so entrance and exit felt clear and safe.  As we arrived we noticed a yacht at anchor that had been anchored at Conception Island.  A Valiant 40 named Gillean.  It often happens that boats headed in the same general direction cross paths repeatedly…and their crews become friends.  Tho we are on a fast pace at this point, i hope i’ll see Gillean again. 

When we dinghied in to the marina, the channel looked terrible and we were glad we hadn’t attempted it.  At the docks, a woman went by in a golf cart.  We waved and chatted, got the lay of the place pretty quickly as there wasn’t much to get:  the marina has been officially closed and moorage is free ever since two hurricanes went by; there are two grocery “stores” (one is closed); and three restaurants (out of which we could extract no food, tho they’d sell us a case of beer for $60 – we passed).  The grocery shack consisted of little more than most pantries i've seen.  We found about 10% of what we were looking for. 

My species aside (we tend to wind down after sunset), we headed back out after dark to take advantage of a favorable forecast – 15 knot NE winds.  Soon to be followed by 25 knot east and SE winds that would make for a much harder time.  The leg before us was 120nm to Mayaguana Island, our last stop in the Bahamas.  From there it’s a long day to the Turks and Caicos.  We could break the ride to Mayaguana down into shorter legs by stopping at Samana and then the Plana Cays.  As it turned out, reaching under genoa alone, we bumped the autopilot one way or the other only occasionally and rarely trimmed or eased the starboard genoa sheet.   We blew right past Samana in the morning.  120nm in 21 hours, we enjoyed dinner in the lee of Mayaguana.

The next day we weighed anchor to motor into the reef protected harbor, picking our way between shallows for 4.5 miles.  But from our anchorage to the reef entrance, we fished for almost 3 miles along the 60 to 80 foot depth contour.  Fishing has become a big focus and excitement for this crew, and the results have been delicious.  We tossed a barracuda back, thanked and filleted a tuna.  The next tuna hit the lure hard.  As Reed reeled in, it gave an extra pull…only the head and a quarter of its body arrived on deck.  A shark (likely) was the cause of that extra pull. 

On the VHF radio, we met Scully.  He seems the local ambassador to the yachties. Oh, and ready to make a buck when he can.  A salesman.  How is it we can sense a lot from someone’s voice and speech?  We couldn’t chat with him without smiling.  More than welcomed, we felt invited.  From him we learned that it was Easter.  That this is Easter Monday and that food and celebration are happenin’.  Also that there is a grocery store and wi-fi.  And for $25 the necessary government person can be engaged on a holiday to check us out of the Bahamas – tho that might not really be necessary.  

We waited a day to dinghy in when the whitecaps subsided.  Some folks watched our approach from their pickup truck.  Willy and Tika said hi and answered our questions to give us bearings.  The "festivities," it turned out were at the other end of the island.  So we didn't join them afterall.  Later we stopped by their bar (Virshay’s) for a beer and a little internet access.  But before that, Reggie came out of his restaurant as we walked by.  He took our orders for lunch right there – i asked what he would recommend from his menu (cracked conch), asked him to add a little lobster and he told us that if we didn’t like the food we wouldn’t have to pay.  We shopped the grocery store next door, which again amounted to little more than a pantry, and had lunch.  It was the best, most tender conch we’ve had yet.  Reggie even took us into the kitchen to show us how he did it.  We added some lettuce and tomatoes from his fridge to our bill and then went to Virshay’s for that beer.   Scully did track us down.  He said he’d get the customs agent for us even tho it was Easter Monday and most of the island was celebrating at the far end of the island.  But the agent didn’t show up and we left our check out papers with Reggie to give to the agent.  

I'm getting used to watching the anchor land on the bottom in even 20' of water?  And seeing the bottom in the light of a full moon.  And i never would have tho’t i would anchor Akimbo in only 7.5 feet of water (with her 6.5 feet of draft).  But we were right at low tide and wanted to get as close in to town as we could.  The reef knocked down any swell, the wind howled, and we ate and slept well.  I hope we find a better grocery source.  This young crew?  Is voracious.  And not just for food.  They are plowing thru my library too.  It’s a sight for sore eyes to witness their appetite for life.