Salty Sailing to the Berry Islands

We pulled up anchor this morning at 7:30 under overcast skies and started our passage north to the Berry Islands. The cloud coverage changed from 90% to 10% in less than 30 minutes. Protected from the southern wind where we were anchored, the wind speed was 14 knots and there was only a slight chop on the surface of the water. The wind gradually clocked to the southwest and increased by noon to a steady 24-27 knots, with occasional gusts close to 35. Of course, the sea state also changed, first to 1 foot breaking waves to 4-6 feet by 10 a.m. We started out with a full main but put two reefs in only an hour after setting off. At 1:00, we put in the third reef and also reefed the genoa. Throughout the day, our speed was at 9 knots or above, and we saw the instrument register 13.7!

Shortly before noon, we cut in behind Whale Cay to have lunch and assess whether it would be a good anchorage for the night. The winds were predicted to shift to the west and die down to 10-12 knots by sunset. We found a small sandy patch among the rocky bottom and dropped the anchor, but it did not hold. There was current and the wind was at 25 knots. We brought the anchor up and made another attempt, but it was extremely difficult to maintain course into wind and slow down to drop. I was at the helm, and each time we reached the spot, the wind blew us off. Peter and I changed our usual positions, and he took the helm and I went to the bow to drop the anchor. He made two attempts, but he had the same problem. I came back to the cockpit and after a very brief discussion, we agreed to keep heading north to Great Harbour Cay. 

Even though the autopilot did a good job of maintaining course, Peter stayed at the helm just in case it failed. He got drenched several times by waves rising up above the gunwale on the windward side and sending spray over the pilot house (really, it's a large hard dodger because it is not completely enclosed with the wheel inside) and into the cockpit. We tried to stay close to the lee of the land to minimize the spray, but it really did not help.

Peter at the helm, ready to jibe

That's not rain; that's spray on the windows

Mantra riding the waves 

Scattered thunderstorms were predicted, but we did not encounter any. We dropped anchor in a large open bay on the southeast side of Great Harbour Cay around 3:30. Luckily, I had made sandwiches last night for the passage, so we did not have to wait until we were anchored to eat. We could see rainclouds on the horizon and hoped that there would be some rain to wash the salt from the boat, but there was only a spattering of raindrops once. There was a rainbow in the east, however.

There is a long beach curving in a crescent shape around the bay, but the chop deterred us from launching the kayak to reach it for a walk. It is supposed to calm tomorrow. Meanwhile, we have to decide if we take a long route around the northern end of the island to reach the anchorage and small town on the other side of the island. We ran out of milk a few days ago, so Peter has not had tea for a while! (Also, we are down to a 6-pack of Diet Coke.)

The boat is rocking in the current and the wind is still making a low howling sound, but it is quiet here and there are just a few houses on the land. What a relief after the bright lights and noise of Nassau!

Sailing from Pristine Paradise to Nassau, the Blight of the Bahamas (in My Opinion)

This morning, we pulled up anchor at Highborne Cay shortly after 9 a.m., not disturbing the nurse shark sleeping in the sand 3 meters below our starboard beam. We enjoyed a couple of hours of pleasant sailing across the Exuma Banks, averaging 6-7 knots; and then we reached Nassau.

Peter navigating the shallow banks from the top of the pilot house

Sundog over the Exuma Banks

Ridiculously large buildings obstruct the horizon. Small power pleasure craft and jet skis zoom by creating wakes and noise and pollution. Fast tour boats take vacationers to snorkel and to see dolphins, all congregating in over-crowded areas. There were five monstrous cruise ships berthed side by side at the cruise terminal, with ten or more decks each, some with waterparks and enormous-screen televisions mounted on their top decks. The lights on all the tall resort buildings obscure the stars and moonlight. Music blares from the shore so it is impossible to hear the water lapping against the hull. Nassau is the Las Vegas (another place I truly loathe) of the Bahamas.

Luckily, after checking out two anchorages where we could see other boats--even catamarans--rocking and rolling, we found shelter from the southern wind in Goodman Bay just west of the downtown Nassau but not far enough away for peace and quiet and darkness. Obviously, Nassau draws tens of thousands of tourists each day, but it does not appeal to me. It is all too artificial and over-the-top. We have no desire to go ashore.

Tonight, for the first time since we arrived in the Bahamas, we will set up the motion detector in the cockpit, bring all loose items below, and lock ourselves in. Everywhere else in the Bahamas, people leave their boats unlocked night and day, whether they are on board or not. The lack of a sense of personal security is another reason Nassau is not desirable as a destination.

Really foul weather is predicted for late Sunday monring and all afternoon, but there really are no anchorages offering all-around protection from clocking winds on New Providence Island, so we will probably leave here early despite the forecast and head for the Berry Islands. 

Cruise ships in port in Nassau

Excessively enormous resorts

Sailing, Snorkeling and Kayaking

Friday, April 21

Our last day in George Town. I was too exhausted by the amount of noise and people in George Town when we settled down on Mantra for the night to do anything productive. I left off the narrative where I was at the helm and Peter was videotaping the beginning of a race off Peace and Plenty Hotel. I will not post that video since the first part is Peter insisting I steer to port to stay out of the way of the race boats and my telling him that I knew what I was doing and had everything under control. It was not a peaceable moment in paradise.

After watching the beginning of the race, we went to Exuma Dock to fill up the tanks with water. While Peter was monitoring that, I went to Exuma Market and stocked up on lots of fresh food for our voyage north. (We still have plenty of canned goods and dry food from provisioning in Florida.) Luckily, the shelves at the store were all fully stocked.

We anchored in Kidd's Cove, close to the entrance to Lake Victoria. After lunch, we dinghied to town. Peter went to the hardware and I walked to library to return a book he had checked out weeks ago. We had heard that the Bahamian Defense Force Marching Band was going to perform around 4:30 and that there were hot dog eating and other contests before that, but no one seemed to know where or when or even if these things were happening. We went to the regatta festival area between the park and the government dock, asking several people, none of whom had information. I walked up to a bunch of young men sitting at the front edge of the stage and said, “You look that type of guys who know what is going on!” They looked at me strangely, but I told them we were trying to get information about the marching band. “We are the marching band,” they said. Since it was around 4 p.m., obviously they were not performing at the time we had heard. They told us that they would be playing music at 8 p.m. (We never did find the non-racing competitions.)

We could see that boats were lining up again at the starting line in front of Peace and Plenty, so we went there to get a drink and watch the race. This plan turned out better than we expected as the owner of one of the A class boats, Rough Justice, was at the pool side bar with a bunch of cronies. (We had seen his craft win in the Wednesday afternoon race.) Reggie, from Long Island, provided us with lots of information about the boats. The A class boats are required to be 28 feet in length with a 2 foot keel and made of wood. The length of the boom and the height of the mast are at the boat owners’ discretion. The height of Rough Justice’s mast is 63 feet and the boom is 38. He laughed heartily when we mentioned that we had read that the cost of building and maintaining the racing sloops was justified by the prize money. The prize money is $5000. His boat cost him $70,000 to build. “It’s all about bragging rights,” he said. When I asked if the captain and crew were paid, he and all of his friends choked on their drinks, snorted and guffawed. Reggie raised his glass and said, “This is how they get paid.”

A Class race start from Peace and Plenty

A Class race

There were two A class races that afternoon since the race the previous day had been called due to weather. Reggie’s boat took second place in both races. (The Legend was first.) It was fascinating listening to him and his friends discuss the advantages of different tacks to the marks and gambling on changes in the wind.

On the way back to the dinghy, we stopped to buy local honey from a vendor in the park and Peter picked up mandarins and vanilla ice cream. Back on Mantra, after we consumed the softened ice cream, I only had enough energy to read a book. We dinghied back to town and could hear the marching band as we docked. We hurried to the stage and found them marching and performing near there. What we did not know was that there was a ceremony on stage at 8 p.m. to officially announce that the legislature had passed a resolution making sailing the national sport, replacing cricket. Of course, everyone already knew this fact, but there had to be a ceremony with speeches by many “Honorable” men from parliament and ministries and the deputy prime minister and the prime minister himself! Apparently, it is a big deal. Of course, the decision makes sense since the Bahamians have always sailed; cricket was introduced and promoted by the British colonists. The ceremony ended with a dazzling fireworks display.**I had not made dinner not did I plan to. I was not hungry, which was a good thing since the vendors weren’t serving vegetarian food. Peter bought a bowl of roasted chicken sousi, which he described as delicious but I thought it looked disgusting, with curiously shaped pieces of meat floating in a reddish brown broth with vegetables. A junkanoo “rush in” was on the program but, once again, the people milling around knew nothing about the time or place, and I was too tired and too overwhelmed by the noise and activity to wait. As we walked past the pink, two-story government building, we began seeing a person here and there with a costume, and stuck in the unusually slow-moving traffic on the Queen’s Highway (the only road through town) was a truck pulling float. It was plain to see that it would be quite a while before the “rush in” occurred.

Bahamian National Defense Force Marching Band

Bahamian National Defense Force Marching Band

One of the "Honorable" men speaking

Saturday, April 22

We left the hustle and bustle of George Town and Elizabeth Harbor from Kidd's Cove at 8:25 a.m. with 6 to 8 knots of wind from the east. A couple hours later, on the open water of Exuma Sound, I practiced heaving to so that I will be able to do it without thinking if Peter falls overboard and I have to rescue him. Since the wind was so light, we tried using the spinnaker, but we were sailing too close to the wind to make it really effective, so we took it down after half an hour had passed and hoisted the genoa again. Our average speed was 5 knots, and we were happy with that. At 7 p.m., after carefully making our way through Farmers Cut and around the south end of Little Farmers Cay, having to back out of a dead end caused by coral only once, we anchored in Isaac Bay on the west side of Great Guana Cay with half a meter of crystal clear water under the keel. There were no other boats there, and it was so, so quiet. Elizabeth Harbour, with the sound of dinghy motors, music and radio communications (which we could turn off), had a constant low-level background noise until after sunset, except when there are festivals and regattas. Then the throbbing of the bass broadcast from massive speakers in town can be heard and felt clear across the harbor from George Town.

Flying the spinnaker on Exuma Sound

Looking back on the calmer waters of the Exuma Banks from the sound

Anchored in Isaac Bay, Great Guana Cay

Peter in a staged photo enjoying the sunset

The actual sunset

Sunday, April 23

At Isaac Bay, we awoke to glass-like water. Small ripples appeared as the sun rosehigher in the clear sky, but the visibility was still amazing. After breakfast, we donned our snorkeling gear and swam to shore over sand and rock, sighting numerous thorny sea stars and a banded sea star right below our swim ladder. Along the rocky edge of the island between two beaches, we saw barracuda, intermediate gray angelfish, blue tang (adults and juveniles), doctorfish, white margates, sergeant majors as juveniles and adults and cocoa damselfish. It was a thrill to see for the first time this season a green turtle while snorkeling. We also observed a southern stingray, who was wary as we hovered near it and, probably with annoyance, lifted itself from the sandy bottom, shaking off the sand half covering it, and gliding away.

Just before noon, we pulled up anchor, after showering naked on the swim platform because there was no one to see us. It only took us 10 minutes to get underway and get both sails set, turning the engine (and its noise) off. We had a great afternoon of sailing. The wind was from the north-north-east at first but shifted to the north, so we sailed on a starboard tack, close reach, for four hours, average 6 knots. 

Leaving Great Guana Cay

Going through shallow water around Bell Island

Avoiding sand bars and coral--and loving the water colors!

At 4:00, we tacked to the port side and sailed close-hauled for a half hour before having to turn on the engine to maneuver through coral and take an indirect course north, then east, then south around Bell Island (owned by the Aga Khan) to reach the mooring balls west of Cambridge Cay, where we picked up a ball near 6 p.m. close to a sandy beach. Behind the beach and some vegetation there stands a highpyramid-shaped geological feature which I think is the remains of an old sand dune from ancient times, with just a bit of grass and scrub clinging to it. We enjoyed the rest of the evening listening to the little waves slapping on the beach and relaxing.

Sand dune hills on Cambridge Cay

Monday, April 24

This morning, after our usual morning routine, we launched the kayak and began our three and half hour paddling and snorkeling expedition. A short kayak trip southeast of Mantra, there were two rocky islets with a narrow channel between them. We dropped anchor there and put on our gear. Of course, I was the first in the water. The clarity of the water was stunning, and there was an abundance of sea life, including at least a dozen black and yellow rock beauties; so far this year we have only seen them as solitary swimmers. Also, there were many gastropods, including queen conch, crown conch and the spindle-shaped true tulip with its tear-shaped brown operculum. There were several types of butterflyfish, tangs, grunts, jacks and damselfish as well as smaller fish, including the harlequin bass. We were dazzled by schools of brilliant blue chromis, a slim 3-4 inch long fish with a deeply forked tail with dark borders. The less flashy brown chromis was also present. Among the vividly colored coral, sponges and algae, I noticed an alga I had not distinguished before, looking like baby’s breath without the green. Attached to very thin branches shooting off in all directions from the substrate were tiny berry-shaped white balls moving to and fro gently in the current.

I doubted my ability to push myself up on the kayak from the water, so I swam to the nearest beach while Peter paddled the craft to shore. I was so happy that I swam. Near the shore, in barely enough depth for me to swim, I encountered a school of a few dozen bar jack and then a school of shiny needlefish hovering just beneath the surface. I had to swim away when I could no longer kick without scraping my knees on the sandy bottom. Going out a bit from the shore, I took a course toward the sandy beach where Peter was waiting for me with the kayak. A large barracuda distracted me and I swam parallel to it for a distance before heading to the beach.

Peter and I took a short walk along the beach, discovering lizard tracks and, more exciting, tracks of rock iguanas, with large footprints alternating on either sida of a wide linear indentation in the sand.

Peter walking on the beach

End of the beach

View from the kayak

Peter and I kayaked along the southwest shore of Cambridge Cay and then crossed the channel of Conch Cut between the cay and Compass Cay to the south. The two islets called Rocky Dundas situated in the middle of the channel reportedly have great snorkeling, but the current was too strong and there were no beaches, so we just paddled around. The water was so clear that we could see the marine life from the kayak, although not with the detail provided by snorkeling. From time to time during the kayaking, we sighted rays and also one nurse shark. From Rocky Dundas, we detoured south to the northeast facing bight of Fowl Cay. A wrecked plane sits on the white sand beach behind large signs declaring the island private. The tide was changing, so we ferried across the channel to the west side of Cambridge Cay, the bay studded with little islands. I jumped off the kayak by one of them with my gear. Once again, the sea life was incredible (including a queen triggerfish), but I couldn’t make any progress against the current, so I set off toward Mantra, with Peter staying close by in the kayak in case any dinghies or small motor boats were zooming around. The current only became stronger. Although I would have made it, Peter towed me to our boat in the end.

After lunch, we dropped the mooring and motored southwest, north and then east around Bell Island and Pasture Cay to reach the mooring field on the west side of O’Briens Cay. All the mooring balls were taken, so we anchored just south of the field, within easy swimming distance to a popular snorkeling site simply called the plane wreck. Peter chose to have a cup of tea before kayaking over to snorkel, but I was in the water in a flash. The plane is in shallow water, only a few feet below the surface. Apparently, it dove in nose first, ripping the front fuselage to jagged pieces of metal. Various fish make this there home. Several passes reveal a houndfish hovering just under the upper front of the place as well as one rock beauty. The real draw of this snorkeling site is not the plane wreck, however, but the coral formations all around it. What an amazing display of marine life! The spotfin butterflyfish swam in pairs, while the queen triggerfish, as always, was solitary. The squirrelfish and longspine squirrelfish usually hide individually under or near ledges or crevasses, but they occasionally gather in groups, and I found a couple dozen together, all facing the same direction and maintaining their places and spacing. I also observed a houndfish and a yellowhead wrasse swimming side by side, almost touching, swimming and stopping together. They seemed to be close friends. Peter found a spiny lobster at the bottom of a coral head, but I could not dive deep enough to observe it. A green turtle swam near the edge of the coral formations, delighting us. Peter kayaked back to our boat, but I swam. Once again, this provided me with the opportunity to see even more. There were a few large snappers poised above the sandy bottom, and a thrill shot through me when I saw an ocean triggerfish near Mantra. They are usually in open water.My family bookclub was scheduled for 8 p.m. on Monday evening, and I was able to connect to the Zoom meeting for a short while, but the Aga Khan’s cell tower on Bell Island and Johnny Depp’s tower on Little Halls Pond Cay were not close enough to maintain the call.

Dramatic sunset from Cambridge Cay

Tuesday, April 25

Another fantastic morning of snorkeling! After breakfast, we kayaked to the northwest tip of O’Briens Cay to enjoy the Sea Aquarium Coral Garden. We anchored the kayak in pure sand by a gorgeous beach in the northern bight, and we were off. When we reached the nearby coral garden, we were amazed by the abundance of marine life. Of course, there was the rainbow array of colors of the coral, sponges and algae. Among this dazzling display, there were thousands of fish and it was really like being in a large, densely populated aquarium. We saw so much, including the regulars, which I cannot keep from enumerating because I love them so much: queen angelfish in juvenile and adult phases; gray angelfish in all the phases; rock beauties in all their phases; foureye and spotfish butterflyfish; blue tang, ocean surgeonfish and doctorfish; bar jacks; flat needlefish; barracuda; saucereye porgy; French, bluestriped, Caesar and other grunts; yellowtail snapper in juvenile and adult phases; schoolmasters; longfin, dusky, yellowtail and cocoa damselfishes in all phases; blue and brown chromis; Nassau grouper; graysby; yellowmouth grouper in the multi-colored juvenile phase; fairy basslet; queen, stoplight, princess and striped parrotfish in juvenile and terminal phases; sergeant majors; yellowhead and bluehead wrasse in various phases; and squirrelfish. Adult sergeant majors are oval-shaped fish who approach with curiosity. They are mostly silvery white with a yellow splash on the dorsal side and five black body bars. The males morph in color to shadowy purple-blue during courtship and when guarding egg patches. We observed several of these hovering over nests and chasing away much larger fish.

We swam back to the kayak. I chose to swim along the western shallow wall of O’Brien’s Cay while Peter returned to Mantra in the kayak. He kept with me for a while, but they paddled ahead to our boat because he did not have sunscreen on his arms. It is probably a mile or more from the Sea Aquarium to where we were anchored along the gently undulating shoreline. I saw another queen triggerfish, rock beauties and parrotfish among others. A great surprise was sighting another ray with a nearly circular forebody, short tail and blotchy sandy and brown coloration—a lesser electric ray! Fortunately, I did not try to touch it (not knowing while in the water what it was) because it can deliver a mild (14-37 volt) shock. At places by the wall and as I swam from the island to the boat, I discovered a multitude of queen conch of various sizes, some aggregations so dense that the shells were almost touching. Conching is part of the economy of the Bahamas, and conch dishes are on every menu, so it is rare to see live conch anywhere else. But we have been within the bounds of the Exuma Cays Land and Sea Park since Cambridge Cay, which explains why there is so much more to see underwater than in other places.

Shallow water, Cambridge Cay

Towing the kayak, we motored to Pirates’ Lair on the south side of Warderick Wells Island, unsure if we would find a mooring ball. Luckily, there was only one boat on one of the three mooring balls, so we practically had the place to ourselves. 

View toward Hog Cay

I was tired from so much time in the open sunshine and the exertion and excitement of snorkeling, so we relaxed on the boat until after tea time (during which I beat Peter at two games of backgammon). After that, we kayaked around this bay. First, we went to Hog Cay, which is the barrier between Exuma Sound and the mooring field. We paddled up to a tunnel between the sound and the inside water, watching and listening to the water rushing through with each wave. We stopped at a small beach from which we could see the blowhole of the tunnel. We waded through the shallow water to another beach, the sand littered with conch in between. The, we crossed over to Warderick Wells and ambled along a longer beach, observing the curly tailed lizards and the attractive plant life. Driven away by mosquitoes and no-see-ums, we paddled away from the land and then around the entire mooring field, observing thorny stars and other sea life.

Tunnel through Hog Cay

Blow hole above the tunnel

Mantra and our kayak, Pirates' Lair

Peter investigating a tide pool on the Exuma Sound side

Conch shells in the shallow water by Hog Cay

Seaside oxeye

Vegetation on the east side of Warerick Wells at Pirates' Lair

From the deck of our boat, we watched the sun disappear behind a mass of clouds in the west, but at sunset, our eyes were dazzled by various shades of yellow, orange and red, the colors sharp in the south and diffused in the north. It was an evolving show.

Sunset over Warderick Wells island

The last of the sunset

Wednesday, April 26

We enjoyed a relaxing morning in Pirates’ Lair. Peter hoisted our pirate flag. Around noon, we continued our unhurried passage north, going to the north side of Warderick Wells and picking up a mooring ball. 

Mantra flying the pirate flag

After checking in at the office and looking at the skeletal remains of a sperm whale that beached in 1995, a victim of ingestioin of plastic pollution, we returned to Mantra. (It was here when we first visited in 2006.) Of course, I was ready to snorkel, so, while Peter kayaked over to visit Sundog, I put on my gear and jumped in. The current running from the south was against me. I kicked hard to reach the bow and went a tiny bit farther. When I ceased kicking, I was back at the transom in about 3 seconds, grabbing on to the swim ladder before I floated away. Since it was not a good time in terms of current to snorkel, I cleaned the cockpit instead.

Curly tailed lizard by the office

Sperm whale skeleton

When Peter returned from visiting Sun Dog, we both went to explore the coral garden with our snorkeling gear. We tied to a jagged rock projection which created a bit of an eddy, and I dove in. Peter was not happy when that spot for the kayak, so he paddled to a beach northwest of the coral garden. I swam at a ferry angle against the current and then drifted north over the brilliant colored and intricately shaped coral and sponges. When I stopped kicking, I was just able to hold my position. I stayed in place, a rapt observer of the marine life just below me, and waited for Peter. All the usual fish were present. When Peter arrived, we drifted a bit more to the north and then took a ferry angle to the beach, where we took a brief walk before Peter and I kayaked back to Mantra.

We spent the rest of the afternoon on the boat and then went to Sun Dog to have dinner with Ted and his sister Abby, who had just joined her a couple of days before for his sail back to the States. They had prepared a flavorful salad for all of us, and the three of them enjoyed grilled chicken. Peter used Ted’s Starlink to connect to a Zoom meeting of the Carson Creek Village board, and Ted, Abby and I told stories about our families. We had kayaked over, but Ted was concerned about our kayaking in the dark and insisted or chauffeuring us in his dinghy back to our boat.

Thursday, April 27

Despite the fact that we socialized and stayed up later than usual, I set an alarm for 7 a.m. so that we could snorkel again at the coral garden, this time at slack low tide. Skipping breakfast and even Peter’s morning cup of tea, but taking time to delight in the two laughing gulls relaxing on our kayak, we put on our swim suits (and Peter his nylon snorkeling skin), stowed our snorkeling gear in the kayak and paddled the short distance to one of the two dinghy mooring balls, where we tied up.

Laughing gulls on the kayak

One of the first things we saw was a nurse shark lying in the soft sand underneath a projecting ledge of a coral formation, deep in sleep. Our swimming around it did not disturb it. At another formation, we only had to free dive a few feet to see two enormous Caribbean spiny lobsters sharing a large recess. We followed a Nassau grouper as it swam from a coral recess out over the open sand, shading from dark shading to light as we watched. We spotted a turtle, and the beautiful Bahamian fish were everywhere, some alone and many in schools and aggregations. We saw juvenile schoolmasters with their distinctive black bar across the eye. I also successfully identified goldspot goby from among the other small bottom-dwelling fish.

Peter took the kayak back to Mantra, but I drifted and swam. The more time in the water, the more wonderful sea life to see! As I was approaching the boat, I swam through a school of shimmering needlefish. Then, three wonderfully patterned large spotted eagle rays glided toward and around me, one with a sleek remora suctioned on its ventral side. The rays are pure white on the ventral side and the inky black dorsal side is covered in white spots and circular markings. They are so graceful, skimming by just under the surface of the sunlight-sparkled turquoise water.

After morning tea for Peter and breakfast, we dropped the mooring ball and set off for Shroud Cay. We enjoyed a wonderful sail, on a broad reach most of the time, moving through the water at 5-7 knots with 10-12 knot wind from the east.

We picked up a mooring ball, not far from Sun Dog, who had left Warderick Wells right after us but had taken a different course. Behind us was a 150 foot mega yacht with its own floating dock off the stern and jet skies and other toys nearby. A sea plane flew over the bay, landed in the water and came to a stop by the floating dock. We could not see if passengers were disembarking or embarking. As we set off in our kayak, we heard the engine starting and watched it glide across the water, gathering enough speed to lift off the surface.

Megayacht with sea plane

In our bright-orange, low-tech craft, we paddled along the western shore of Shroud Cay, past small rocky headlands that opened up to large, placid bays reaching into the mangroves. We had studied the chart (and taken a photo on my phone) before we set off and were able to navigate to the southeast and along a rocky shoreline to find the entrance to a long, meandering water passage through mangroves to the Exuma Sound side of the island. We saw some fish and a young barracuda and a few turtles in the water. What a delight it was to see white tailed tropicbirds flying above us, their white plumage, long narrow tails, and bold black stripes on their wingtops distinguishing them from other birds. We also saw more than one species of heron flying, but they were not close enough for accurate species identification.

Entrance to the mangrove passage

Wide part of the passage

Red mangroves

The minimal current was flowing against us, which surprised us because we were expecting inflow from the sound. We knew we were near the end of the passage when we could see casuarina trees above the propped-root mangroves. However, when we arrived, we discovered that there was a low-lying dune blocking the access to the open water. Right now, we have a waxing quarter moon, which means neap tide. Walking across the sand to the shore, we saw evidence of running tidal water in the sand, but we surmised that a spring tide would be needed to truly create a short-lived channel.

There is a long beach on the sound side and great vistas, but we were dismayed to find the sand littered with broken plastic pieces, large and small, flotsam and jetsam from the sea. Peter usually gathers trash on our walks but decided any attempt at stewardship would be negligible.

View of the Exuma Sound from Shroud Cay

Sand dune blocking passage from the sound

Retracing our route, we were able to drift with the current as if on a lazy river. Peter stood up in the stern to get a different perspective, and I relaxed and took photos. In all, we covered five miles on our expedition.

Sherri and Peter drifting down the mangrove channel

Crab holes in the sand under a couple feet of water

Sunlight and sand ripples creating gorgeous patterns on the surface of the turquoise water

What a wonderful day—great snorkeling, smooth sailing and great exploration in the kayak! It was completed by a wonderful dinner of stir-fry veggies and tofu over rice.

Today, we finished the last of the milk with our cereal, so now Peter’s tea is black until we reach someplace with a grocery store. After breakfast, we dropped the mooring ball and set off for the north side of Highborne Cay, sailing in 1-2 foot waves on Exuma Sound.

Three hours later, we anchored among a few other boats, and I made lunch. Before doing the dishes, I jumped off the stern to snorkel in the coral garden just north of us while the tide was slack. Peter said he was snorkeled out, so I went alone. He was concerned that I would have trouble swimming back to Mantra when the current started running out, possibly being swept into Exuma Sound, so he put the kayak in the water in case he had to rescue me, which he did not.A coral head here and there appeared in front of me as I swam over sand and grass and then there was coral everywhere, and, of course, fish! I always try to find fish I have not yet identified. Today, there was an abundance of snappers—lane, mutton, gray and mahogany and the schoolmasters; several rock hind; a lesser electric ray (my second sighting); and the expected parrotfish, wrasses, grunts, angelfish, butterflyfish, surgeonfish, jacks, porgies and blennies. The fish of the day is the glasseye snapper, not a true snapper but a big-eyed cardinalfish. They are bright orangey-red with silver, broken bars in contrast. 

We are anchored near a large cell phone tower, so we have cell service for the first time in four days. We have spent the afternoon catching up on email and looking at weather websites and apps. I have caught up with the blog.

We enjoyed another interesting sunset after which we closed up and came down below as the first mosquito appeared. Peter has been monitoring the Space X launches this evening. One was successful and one was just aborted at 59 seconds on the countdown.

Blue streak sunset