Nothing But Blue Skies

We have been anchored off Sand Dollar Beach for a few days. On Saturday (March 25), although the harbor was still choppy, the sun was shining brightly and I could see the coral reefs near shore. It was not ideal conditions, but I just had to go. The current was flowing north, so I ferried across it to get near the beach of Stocking Island and then explored the two small reefs near Mantra. Then I swam around Rocky Point at the west end of Sand Dollar Beach and walked along the south-facing beach to Black Point, where I returned to the water to swim among the coral, sponges, algae, fish and other marine life. In addition to the usual fish, I saw a few mahogany snappers larger than what I normally observe there.

I emerged from the water again at Hamburger Beach. Having decided that I did not want to swim half a mile back to Mantra against the current and wind, I asked a man at the bar of the Peace and Plenty Beach Resort if I could use his phone to call Peter on his cell. Not unexpectedly, Peter didn't answer because he didn't recognize the number or know anyone in Wisconsin, so I left a message asking him to bring a beach cover-up, sunglasses and money so we could have lunch there. 

I rinsed off the salt at the convenient outdoor shower at the restaurant, and then sat on a lounge chair near the water to wait patiently. A man, there on vacation with his wife and friends, started chatting with me and then offered to buy me a drink on his tab. He even offered to take me back to Mantra on the boat they had rented for the day, but I did not mind hanging out on the beach. However, a Diet Coke was much appreciated. An employee came by and offered to raise an umbrella for me, so I was well taken care of. (I was reminded of Blanche's line from A Streetcar Named Desire, "I have always depended on the kindness of strangers.")

After a while, Peter arrived in the dinghy. However, he had just assumed that I wanted to be picked up but had not listened to my message, so he did not have sunglasses, money or other items with him. He returned, through the waves, to retreive them and then we had lunch at Peace and Plenty. I had actually been looking forward to having a veggie burger (something almost impossible to find here) because I had enjoyed the meal I had eaten a few weeks ago, but, alas, it was not on the menu that day, so, as is often case when we eat out in the Bahamas, no protein was available to me, and I just ate delicious sweet potato fries on their own.

Peter had been successful in my absence in programming the single sideband radio, so he was happy. He dinghied over to Falco to return some electronic stuff that had helped him open up the ham radio frequencies, and when he returned, he suggested that, despite the chop, we head to town at 5 p.m. for groceries. (Other than tomatoes and onions, we had no vegetables, and the milk was almost gone.) 

After we loaded the five bags of groceries in the dinghy, we walked to the nearby gas station to see a large shrub that Adam and Natasha on S/V Providence had found interesting but had failed to identify. With the PictureThis app, I was able to determine that it was not a fruit tree but Calotropis gigantea, a species native to Southeast Asia and the Indian subcontinent commonly known as giant mulberry or crown flower. 

Giant milkweed flower and leaves

Giant milkweed fruit

Floss from an opened fruit

Along the western horizon, over Great Exuma, the sun emerged from beneath the long line of flat-bottomed cumulus clouds that normally hover above the island in the day, a result of heat rising from the land. When the sun is behind this mass of moisture, the edges of the lumpy, dove gray tops glow brilliant white. Often, the cloud formation is low and at sunset the bright orb at the center of our solar system simply sinks behind it, but on Saturday evening, the sun shone out beneath it, coloring the sky peach, lemon yellow and apricot. 

Sunset from Sand Dollar Beach

Yesterday (Sunday, March 26), after a delicious breakfast of scrambled eggs, avocado and tomatoes, we both got to work. Peter sawed off and replaced the base for a dorade cowl on the forward deck and did other jobs while I spent hours preparing food for this week. I made a couscous and fruit salad with mandarins, apricots, dried cranberries, dry-roasted pine nuts and cinnamon (to be served topped with feta cheese); corn chowder; chana masala (to be served over rice); and a piquant black bean, corn, tomato, onion and lime salad. The cooking was fun, but there were a lot of pots and pans, cutting boards, knives, measuring utensils and other items to be cleaned up afterwards. 

Peter and I enjoyed some of the couscous salad for lunch while we watched and were fascinated by a kite surfer skimming across the water, wake following him, making spectacular leaps and turns in the air.

Kiteboarder in front of Stocking Island

Airborn

Later in the afternoon, after Peter had finished a couple small jobs, we dinghied to Sand Dollar Beach with a hack saw and the screens I had modified. On a gayly colored picnic table, Peter cut the corners diagonally so the screens could be placed more easily in the deck hatches. 

Peter modifying screen frames

While he worked, I walked around carefully observing the plants and parasites. I noticed luxuriant burnt-orange vine growth smothering scrubs and trees and creeping along the sand. Called devil's gut (Cassytha filiformis), this parasite feeds off other plants' nutrients, eventually killing them. I took the time to notice the details of the top sides and the bottom sides of the various palms.

Silver palm

Chinese windmill palm?

Devil's gut

After the screen modification was accomplished, we took a long walk along the beach. The tide was low. I had just commented that I had not seen any sand dollars on this beach when we spotted one partially buried in the sand where the water was lapping the shore. It was brown and fuzzy, so we picked it up and dropped it in the shallow water. As we walked along, we encountered a few more, returning them to the water also. We patiently watched as one pushed sand away from its underside at a rate that was almost imperceptible. Later, back on our boat, I educated myself with my copy of Reef Creature Identification and learned that these irregular disc-shaped echinoids with their lovely five-petal sculptured design are adapted for burrowing and live under the sand, so our intervention was probably not helpful. 

Sand dollar burying itself

Since the tide was low, we could easily wade along Rocky Point on the west end of Sand Dollar Beach, slowly progressing to study the fuzzy chitons, gastropods and other marine life nestling into indentations in the sharply protruding rock and living in the tide pools. 

Underside of rock formation over the sand

Fuzzy chiton

West side of Rocky Point

Radioles of feather duster worms in a tide pool

Chiton adhered to perforated limestone

Rocky Point

On the western side of the point, the water is quite shallow, and the waves created undulating patterns in the sand just beneath the surface of the clear water. Here we found shells with turtle grass still attached and beaded sea stars (Astropecten articulatus). We watched intently as they moved themselves slowly across the sand. We could not see but heard an unidentified bird's dulcet tones creating a pleasing melody from a tree on the beach.

Beaded sand star illuminated by the setting sun

Crab hole reflecting the sunlight

The conch horns were blowing as we reached the mother ship Mantra. 

This morning, it is still bouncy in the harbor, with southeast winds blowing 5-18 knots. We just moved Mantra to Kidd's Cove near the cut to Lake Victoria so that we can spare our friends Lori and Germán, who arrive this afternoon, the soaking that my sister and brother-in-law, Beth Ann and Rich, experienced when they rode in the dinghy across the harbor!

Back at Sand Dollar Beach

Yesterday evening, we dinghied over to S/V Cadence to enjoy drinks, food and lively conversation with Rob and Chris as well as Kevin from S/V Kiana, a Amel boat. They are all friends from New Hampshire with many years of cruising experience.

After our social outing, we returned to Mantra to work. I finished cleaning the area exposed by the removed panels and then Peter reattached them, which took us a couple hours. Our bedroom was back to being shipshape.  It was another late bedtime; both of us fell right to sleep in the calm waters of Red Shanks Anchorage.

By this morning, the wind was finally down below 15 knots and we decided to join the crowd back at Sand Dollar Beach. First, however, I cleaned, sorted and reshelved the books in the bookcase, getting rid of a few duplicate and outdated item. Then I continued to clean the saloon and put things back in their proper places. Meanwhile, Peter had to put away tools and clean up the nav table, the forepeak and the engine room where his work had led to disarray. 

Everything back in its proper place

Before leaving Red Shanks, we dinghied over to the beach on the east side of Moss Cay, looking for the sanderlings and snails we had seen a few days ago before the wind and rain kept everyone on their boats for a few days. We got the dinghy up on the plane to go through the cut, and both of our hats blew off. After retreiving them, we hauled the boat up on the beach and tied it to the roots of a casuarina. At first we didn't spy any birds, and I despaired that they were not there at high tide, but we encountered them as we walked south. I had to wade in the waves gently slapping the jagged rocks to find the snails. The chitons were not visible, hidden beneath the water level.

Sanderlings

Sanderlings searching for food

Peter walking on the beach

Colorful snails

Snails firmly attached to the limestone

With our hats safely tucked down low in the dinghy, we returned to Mantra. As Peter got ready to leave, I did more cleaning in the saloon and galley. It took us about an hour to reach our new spot. I made us a quick lunch of penne pasta mixed with sauted red onion, garlic and carrot and tossed with sundried tomatoes. Then, it was back to cleaning! The floors had felt sticky for days and days, and my feet could bear it no longer. I banished Peter to the pilot house and thoroughly cleaned it on my hands and knees, getting into every corner and dusting vents low on locker doors as I worked my way from forward to aft. Then I cleaned the aft cabin and made the bed in preparation for our friends Lori and Germán, who will arrive on Monday. 

Before Russell from S/V Blue Highways and Stephen from S/V Falco arrived at 4 p.m. to chat with Peter about single side band radios, I prepared dip and julienned carrots as well as a bowls of pita chips and green grapes for our guests. I sat around with the three of them for general conversation and then removed myself to the foredeck with a seat and a book when radios became the topic of discussion.

Peter is now busy working on unlocking and programming our single side band radio so he can get wider use from it. I will make a couple grilled cheese sandwiches, and that will be our late dinner. Then it will probably be early (or earlier) to bed. Unlike in Red Shanks, the waves are gently rocking us here in Elizabeth Harbour. 

The Wind Roars at 20 knots

We are still safely anchored in Red Shanks Anchorage in what the Beauford Wind Scale calls a fresh breeze, which seems in conflict with the dictionary definition of "breeze" and my understanding of the word, a gentle wind. Merriam-Webster clarifies that the term refers to wind from 4 to 31 miles per hour. My personal experience is that a 4 MPH wind feels and sounds significantly different than one registering 31 MPH. With the former, there is really not enough to sail, and with the latter there is usually a small craft advisory to stay in port.

As the gusty wind continues to roar and resonate in the rigging, we have found ways to keep occupied. Yesterday, we awoke to gray skies, but by afternoon, sunshine sparkled on the water. Rob from a nearby boat, S/V Cadence, a Chuck Paine designed Apogee monohull, stopped by to visit, and then we went to his boat, finding many similarities in design but also many different features from our Steve Dashew boat.

Mantra from Cadence

Around 2 p.m., we had lunch and then got to work. I started laundry, even though the wind was a bit high, and Peter began his project of installing a new speed and depth inducer, which involves taking off many of the ceiling and wall panels to access wiring. Yesterday evening, his work was contained in our cabin and the forepeak. Off course, his work revealed cleaning tasks for me requiring pure vinegar and bleach (not together!). He was able to put a sufficient number of the panels back to allow us to sleep in our bed last night.

Laundry laid out and hanging to dry, with trim from the forward cabin on the floor

Peter working in the forward cabin

Before dark, the wind increased and then it began to pour rain, and I scrambled to bring in the not-yet-dry laundry from the lifelines and stow the on-deck cushions in the pilot house. By nightfall, the interior of the boat looked like a remodeling site and a pseudo laundry. More rain drenched the decks in the night, awakening Peter to close hatches and leaving me undisturbed. 

This morning it was blustery and sunny. I put the damp laundry back on the lifelines after breakfast and did three more loads in the washing machine. Meanwhile, Peter began to systematically dismantle the entire starboard side of the saloon. I did some cleaning of the panels Peter was removing and installed new screening in a frame for the bathroom hatch, with the help of Peter and the right tool. On a cleaning roll, I took everything out of the bottom compartment of the refrigerator, wiped up the condensation and sanitized it with (my friend) bleach. Moving on, I cleaned the bathroom (because some grit had fallen on the floor when Peter removed the screen frame). Of course, I have made meals also. 

What lies behind the panels

Our bed covered with removed panels

Galley counter with my new screen and table covered in stuff from the starboard side

Peter working

Although it was not predicted, precipitation suddenly began to fall from the sky, which had darkened, preceded by an increase in the wind speed. Peter hurried to close hatches and he and I fetched the last of the laundry from the lines. Luckily, yesterday evening's loads and the first two loads from this morning had had time to dry, so there were only a few towels to bring in. 

Rob picked up a friend who flew into Georgetown yesterday to crew with him back to the States, and they have invited us over for drinks. They are deparating before dawn tomorrow morning. Therefore, it is time to close this post, which I am writing from the only seat left to me below decks.

My only seat!

Red Shanks Anchorage

We have settled in to Red Shanks anchorage, with Crab Cay to the north and Moss Cay to the south. We are well-protected from all wind, which is why we came here. Last night the wind picked up to 15-20 knots and that speed has been sustained and exceeded by gusts since then. A lot of rain has fallen; we have collected about 250 gallons of water in the tanks so far. 

Luckily, yesterday afternoon, the sun shone brightly, drying the laundry and allowing us to snorkel and explore a crescent shaped beach. From Mantra, we swam to the east end of Moss Cay, gliding over large hillocks of white sand where upside down jellies, sea cucumbers and amber penshell bivalves nestled. As we neared the narrow channel between Moss Cay and the small isle to its east, the incoming current over the low-lying, colorful and healthy coral and sponges strengthened. Among large purple and gold and various colored gorgonians pushed to a 45 degree angle by the stream of rushing water, I struggled just to maintain my position, let alone move forward. I spied Peter on the outside of the little isle. How did he get there? He instructed me to let the current take me back and then stay close to Moss Cay until I nearly reached the beach and then ferry across to him. This worked. Under the water on the outside of the isle, corals thrived and small fish, many of them juveniles, darted about. I was particularly awed by the 1-2 inch golden-orange fish with a broad neon blue lateral stripe, identified back on the boat as the juvenile phase of yellowhead wrasse. The changes in coloration that occur as some fish develop from birth to adulthood makes me wonder about the purpose of these transmutations.

On the far side of the channel separating the small isle from the southeast tip of Crab Cay, the fish became more abundant and larger. There were many large queen and gray angelfishes, blue tang, hogfish and grunts among other species, and we saw one Nassau grouper tangling with a queen angelfish for space beneath a ledge. The current racing into Red Shanks anchorage carried us through without a flip of our fins, one of the few drift snorkels I have done. 

We swam behind the isle to Moss Cay, stopping to chat with two men on paddle boards before getting to the less side of the island where, lining the shore, are mangroves, the only species of trees that can grow in coastal saline and brackish water. They help stabilize shorelines, filter water and serve as nurseries for fish. 

Crossing over the short distance of a hillock to the crescent beach, we met again the paddle-boarding men and chatted before walking along the water's edge. We haven't seen many birds in the Bahamas, so we were delighted to observe white and grayish-brown sanderlings high-stepping on the their black legs and shoving their long, narrow black beaks into the water and sand for food. At the end of the beach, we walked a short distance along the spiky limestone outcroppings. The tide was out, and the nooks and crannies sheltered 1-2 inch Fuzzy chitons with their furry girdle of gray and black bands firmly adhered to the surface by their muscular foot. There were hundreds of little gastropods with colorfully striped shells. (I particularly like the pink and red ones. When the weather clears, I must go back and take photographs of all the life on the beach.)

All salty, we showered on return to the boat and I gathered in the laundry. Later, we dinghied over to S/V Positive Waves to visit Hans and Kristen and their daughters Freya and Matilda as well as Kristen's mother, who is visiting from Vermont for three weeks. Their aluminum boat is only three years old and has many features that ours does not. Peter (and most male skippers) are always eager to see and learn about other boats. Matilda spent a lot of time during our visit swinging the length of the 44-foot vessel over the water in a sling seat. Freya entertained us, proudly reading a story she was in the midst of writing and illustrating. It was astonishingly well done for a girl her age.

Just after sunset, before the sky faded to grey and then black, we returned to Mantra. We battened down for the upcoming storm, and Peter did the final setup for rainwater collection. The deluge started shortly after we went to bed, the tap-tap-tapping lulling me to sleep. 

The wind has been howling, making small white-capped waves all day and buffeting the boat at times. It has rained intermittently, sometimes quite hard. When there was a break in the blustery weather, Adam and his second child, Sammy, came over for word games. Sammy loves Boggle, and I have observed her score steadily getting higher each time I have played with her. We also introduced them to the card game Quiddler, one of our favorites, which Sammy was reluctant to play instead of Boggle, but she seemed to like it well enough when she won. But we had to immediately return to her preferred game, particularly since they were trapped on our boat by heavy rain for a while.

We listened to a couple of Joni Mitchell albums this evening to drown out the disquieting wailing of the wind. No sunshine is predicted for tomorrow, and the sustained wind is expected to be near 25 knots Wednesday afternoon before finally beginning to abate. The winds of 10-15 knots that I prefer are not expected again until after dark on Thursday, and then we can bask again in calmness and sunshine starting on Friday.

Moving Around in Elizabeth Harbour

Yesterday (March 19), Peter spent more time in the engine room while I made meals, tidied up the boat and finished listening to the audiobook of Black Cake. Around 3 p.m., we pulled up anchor to seek a calmer and less crowded anchorage. We headed south in the harbor and an hour later anchored east of Isaac Cay just offshore from Great Exuma. Protected by the low hills from the south wind, this anchorage had much calmer water. Even though the Bahamian water still dazzles with various shades of turquoise, aqua, and deep and light blues, they lack their usual crystal clarity. The days-long high winds and waves have stirred the sandy bottom, so visibility has been greatly reduced. I am hoping it clears soon because I can't wait to snorkel again.

Laundry drying on the lifelines

View of no other anchored boats east of Isaac Cay

After Peter had his afternoon tea and I hung out laundry which had washed our small machine while we had the engine on, we hopped in the kayak and paddled to shore, where the scrub-covered, jagged limestone cliffs were dotted with caves. The one directly off our bow had collapsed in two places. Another one was wide and had ceilings just high enough that we could paddle in. Reflections of the blue water tinged the lighter colored stone, and we found light pouring through a diagonal hole from the ground above.

Cave with double collapse

Keyhole cave

Blue reflections on underside of cave opening

Tan colored rock in the hole through the cave

We paddled around Isaac Cay and over to Red Shanks anchorage to visit our friends on S/V Perseverance. We only stayed a short time to chat because we wanted to get back to Mantra before sunset. The distance between us was just over one nautical mile.

Sunset from the kayak

This morning, after listening to the 8 a.m. cruisers' net on VHS, we pulled up anchor and made our way to Red Shanks, which offers protection from wind from any direction. Although light SW to NW winds are predicted for today, NE wind at 15-20 knots is anticipated Tuesday and Wednesday, with some rain and possible thunderstorms and squalls.

After I hung another load of laundry on the life lines, we had a late breakfast. The sky grew darker and it started to spit rain, but I figured the clothes could use an extra rinse. Actually, the rain was light and didn't last long, and we have partial sunshine again as I write. We are hoping for heavy rain so that we can collect water into the tanks.

This morning, the boats in the harbor were fascinated with a helicopter flying around Great Exuma and over the harbor with five men dangling, one above the other, from a long rope. The helicopter has been identified as DEA (U.S. Drug Enforcement Administration), so it assumed that they are training to be ready to jump into the jungle for raids.

DEA helicopter with five dangling men

A couple from an aluminum hull boat anchored nearby came to visit. Quite a few people are interested to look about a Sundeer vessel, and we always get compliments (even though we did not design the boat).

Additional Post on a Windy Day

Peter and I were looking for a place to eat that we had not visited before, but when we arrived around 3 p.m., lunch was over and the dinner hour had not yet arrived. However, we found that the lovely little library was open, so we stopped in. There have been significant rearrangements there, with an expanded children's section  and additional rooms. Also, two rooms now comprise a small museum with interesting and informative displays of old survey maps and photographs, tools and glassware and tableware from the colonial period, Junkanoo costumes, woven objects, shells and more. Peter found a book to check out and we bought raffle tickets to support library improvements, in this case a composting toilet since there currently are no facilities for volunteers, staff, children or other visitors. 

Part of the museum at the George Town Public Library

Hunger was a stimulus for us to move on, and we sought out the food vendors on the grounds of the Bahama Music and Heritage Festival at the Government Dock. Peter chose sheep tongue souse (a hearty soup) and I had coconut duff, a delicious dessert. I usually am not a big fan of cocunut desserts, but as I consumed this one, it occurred to me that I could taste the freshness of the coconuts, probably harvested the day the cake and topping were made, and elsewhere, outside the tropics, the coconut is bland by comparison.

There were many musicians on the stage, but performances had not really started yet. They were just jamming and entertaining themselves. Even so, the music was rhythmic and melodic--and loud! We found the volume tolerable at the back of the venue. It was apparent that real performances would not be starting for some time, and we wanted to be back at the boat before dark because of the wind and wave conditions, so we picked up a few things at Exuma Market and left the dinghy dock in Lake Victoria (a natural pond that was connected to Elizabeth Harbour by blasting out a passage through the limestone ridge separating the two bodies of water decades or maybe a century or more ago). We saw the local traditional sailboats racing to the south, and we steered that way to see these small, sleek craft with there extended booms and large sails underway.

Bahamian musicians jamming on stage

Racing traditional boats, Elizabeth Harbour

Two people sailing a locally built sloop

Back on Mantra, we relaxed and played backgammon and then enjoyed the sunset. After a call to my dad, a shower and dinner, it will be time to the typical early bedtime in the tropics.

Peter blowing his conch horn as the sun sinks on the horizon

Sky at the transition between sundown and twilight

The wind finally has settled down to under 15 knots and the crests of the choppy waves no longer foam white, and we are expecting a peaceful night.

Windy Weather

The wind has continued for a few days at 15-20 knots, clocking from the north to the south over that time--with the exception of times when it has been higher. On Thursday, March 16, before nightfall, we had secured everything on deck and were prepared for another night of excitement. We were busy doing other things, and I didn't commence making dinner until about 8 p.m.; I had left it too late. The wind had been steadily rising from 15-20 from the northeast to 35. Every boat in the harbor was on channels 68 and 16 on VHF radio, and reports of boats dragging and dinghies escaping and gusts registering around 50 knots (The highest we registered over the night was 38.8.), after I had just poured some olive oil in a pan and was preparing to light a burner, made us decide to postpone dinner so that Peter could be on deck in the near gale winds to watch for other boats dragging anchor or needing assistance and I could be at the navigation table to monitor the radio and watch the electronic chart for movement of the boats having AIS (Automatic Identification System) devices. There was an hour or so of high alert, a bit of panic by other skippers, and great communication and support in the community as the weather system passed. As far as we know, no boats were grounded that night.

By 10 p.m., when the radio chatter subsided and the wind speed had lessened a bit, it was too late to make stuffed mushrooms and sautéed vegetables, so we had tortilla chips and cheese dip before going to bed. We had hoped to put some water in the tanks when the storms blew through, but there was insufficient rainfall.

After breakfast yesterday morning (Friday, March 17), I did some reading and Peter disappeared into the engine room again, continuing to work on the raw water distribution system. (He is still working on it now, as a write.) 

Some of Peter's tool (my foot for size comparison)

Peter in the engine compartment

Later in the morning, a dinghy pulled up at the stern with one woman. Diane from S/V Tiki Tour came aboard to let us know another boat was trying to reach us on the VHF. (We had turned itd off because Peter can get distracted by it.) She also asked if I could evaluate the curricula and progress of her 11-year-old daughter Keira. They are planning to leave as soon as possible to travel to the Jumento Islands further south (The current 15-20 knot SE winds is not favorable for them.), so she asked if I could work with them that day. Of course, I am not terribly busy (unlike Peter) and welcome any opportunity to work--and I am passionate about working with students--so I invited them to come right away. She went to fetch her daughter, and I spent an hour or so with the two of them, extremely impressed with the curriculum they are using, the student accomplishments, and a pre-teen child who does not roll her eyes!

After they left, I turned my attention to manual labor. I had forgotten to clean the one potable water jerry can when I was doing the gas and diesel cans because it was not on the swim platform with me, so I retrieved it from the forepeak. I also brought to the stern the one old cowl for covering a dorade (ventilation) box on deck, which had turned yellow and sticky because of exposure to the elements (and bad materials) as well as the screens for the deck hatches. First I removed the metal springs from the frames of the screens because they were more a hindrance to placement than an advantage. I managed to remove all of them completely with pliers and vice grips without breaking them off with the exception of two; I used a rasp to file down the tiny remainders sticking up. I employed a tap and hammer to push down places where the frames had been bent a small bit by the spring removal. Then it was on to cleaning, one of may favorite things (truly!).

Sherri removing rust-encrusted springs from screens

I cleaned the screens with soapy water. Then, I poured the soapy water in the light blue jerry can, having looked inside first and seen the microscopic life coating the bottom and sticking in small patches to the sides. Peter had to relent and let me use bleach for the project since the can is intended for drinking water storage. Even that did not work on its own, so Peter found a piece of fiberglass rod and attached a cleaning rag to it with tape for scrubbing. Even after soaking in bleach and water for over half an hour, the muck did not want to let loose easily, and I spent 15 or 20 minutes scouring the inside of the can until it was about 95% clean; there were some crannies I could not reach. 

After that, I tried various anti-yellowing and cleaning products on the dorade cowl to no avail and, while Peter was not looking, resorted to bleach, which worked, although I still had to use Simple Green to remove some sticky residue. This old dorade cover does not look as good as the spotless ones that Rob and Susan brought to us from England last year, but it will be acceptable at the forepeak until we bring a better one back from England when we visit there (without the boat) this summer. 

Peter found that the pricy manifold he had purchased for the engine has a 1 1/4 inch diameter hose barb to the engine, but the engine hose is 1 inch, so he needed to go to the hardware store in George Town to find an adaptor. We put away our tools, stowed the things I had been working on down below or in the pilot house, closed up the engine room and the hatches and, after Peter took a shower (because he was definitely dirty), set off in the dinghy. 

Our first stop was S/V Svala from Switzerland. Their swivel hardware between their anchor and their chain had broken and they needed a replacement. We happened to have an old one, so we took it to them. Chris and Manuela are a lovely couple who have a beautiful boat, the most clean and pristine vessel I have ever seen other than superyachts which have crew for manual labor. Of course, they demurely insisted that they did not work that hard on keeping her unblemished and unsoiled.

Across the chopping harbor, we planed in the dinghy to reach George Town. I had taken books to trade at the library, but I arrived at 5 p.m., having stopped by the tourist office to drop off a thank-you note first, and the librarian was just leaving. I met Peter on the Queen's Highway running through town (and the 37-mile length of the island) and we wandered into the Bahamian Music and Heritage Festival, which was just setting up, remembering the first time we had been to this event, in 2006, when our late friend Andrew sailed with us on our first boat from Lucaya, Grand Bahama, to this harbor. He loved Bahamian music. We will attend later today and think of him.

Banner for the Music and Heritage Festival

We picked up a few provisions and then, with jolts and bumps, rode across the waves to Chat 'n' Chill, where there was a fund-raiser for the Exuma Sailing Club. Unfortunately, the youth races had been cancelled due to the high winds and re-scheduled for today, but whether they will occur is questionable because there has been no abatement in the 15-20 knot winds, and there are still small whitecaps in the harbor. We heard that one or two of their small sailboats had sunk yesterday and they were still trying to bring them up.

The kayak and the dinghy bouncing on the water behind the stern

Whitecaps through the galley window

When Peter and I returned to Mantra, he went to work re-connecting things in the engine room, finding a way to jerry-rig a fix, so that the raw water system is working and things like refridgeration could function again.

I have been listening to an audio book and writing this post (while coloring) for most of the time since breakfast, while Peter has been lost in the engine room. We are just getting ready to depart for George Town for the music festival and hope to see some local races in the harbor.

Today's artwork