The afternoon of Monday, March 27, Peter and I awaited Lori and Germán's arrival by taxi from the the airport to Exuma Market. While we were waiting, I saw my friend Jillian on the street, and it was nice to have a chat with her before she left the Bahamas a few days later. Peter went with her to her apartment to help her fold up her bike, which was being difficult. Finally, Lori contacted Peter by text message to say they were delayed at Bahamas Customs because she was bringing small parts for the boat with her and they were requesting the receipts. While Peter was searching his Amazon account for the orders, she figured out she could look up the prices on Amazon and, in the end, this sastisfied the customs offices that there wasn't anything of great value that should have an import duty imposed.
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| Lori and Germán's first view of Mantra, just right of center, in Kidd's Cove |
I was hot and thirsty, so Peter and I went next door to the Island Boy Cafe for drinks and an order of fries and waited for them there. When they arrived, they bought a couple bottles of water and we chatted for a few minutes before heading out to Mantra. We wanted to get to the concert on Sailing Piano at 6 and we were running late, so we immediately pulled up anchor and moved to the other side of Elizabeth Harbour, anchoring off Volleyball Beach and the Chat 'n' Chill. I grabbed crackers, cheese and drinks, and we took our dinghy to the nearby Fruit Bowl to enjoy Dave's music and banter and the way he altered lyrics to fit the boating community's experiences. Afterwards, we had bowls of corn chowder back on our boat before an early bedtime.
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| Dave entertaining the audience at the stern of his trimaran |
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| Germán, Sherri, Lori and Peter at the concert |
The next morning (Tuesday, March 28), after breakfast, we hauled anchor at 10:30 a.m. to take advantage of 10-12 knot southeast winds to cross Exuma Sound. Close-hauled on a starboard tack, we zipped along at 7-8 knots. Peter rigged the fishing rod we purchased in 2020 in Belize (in case all ports were closed and we were forced to remain on board for months during the pandemic), but no fish were biting, even though we saw some jumping as they were pursued by dolphins.
We zig-zagged past coral patches into Calabash Bay on Long Island and dropped anchor off a white sand beach in crystal clear turquoise water at 4:45 p.m. Lori and Germán set off in the dinghy for the shore and I donned my snorkeling gear to swim and explore. Peter stayed on board for afternoon tea.
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| Germán at the helm |
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| Gulls and terns diving for fish at the surface on Exuma Sound |
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| Lori and Germán kayaking in Calabash Bay, Long Island |
I could not find any coral, but there were sea stars on the sandy bottom and tiny fish swimming in and out of the turtle grass. I met Lori and Germán on the beach. It began to rain lightly and I decided it was warmer in the water, so I swam back, but they continued their walk in the Bahamian sand, with its texture like pure sifted flour.
Our 56-foot boat rolled gently from side to side in the slight surge coming around the northern tip of the island. After a hearty dinner and conversation, we enjoyed a restful night of sleep being rocked like babies in cradles.
The next day (Wednesday, March 29), the wind speed was lower, only 6-8 knots from the south, when we pulled up anchor at 10 a.m. in calm seas. However, a couple of hours later, it had picked up to 14-16 knots (bringing a bit of rain), and we were able to turn off the noisy engine and enjoy slow sailing at 3-5 knots the rest of the way acorss Exuma Sound. At 2:30, we anchored in Moriah Cay Harbour, to the west of the island.
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| Sailing across Exuma Sound |
After a late lunch, we jumped in the dinghy and headed to the shore. We enjoyed walking on the pristine beaches spread out between craggy points of limestone and watching the clouds scuttled across the blue sky. When we returned to the mother ship, we took turns showering on the transom swim platform. Lori swam around the boat a few times enjoying the 80 degree Fahrenheit water and came on board last.
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| Sherri, Peter, Lori and Germán on the dinghy |
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| Beach on Moriah Cay |
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| Lori and Sherri |
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| Lori and Germán |
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| Lori, with Peter and Sherri in the background |
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| Peter, Sherri, Germán and Lori |
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| Sherri and Peter |
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| Lori swimming around the boat |
The next day (Thursday, March 30), Peter and I studied the chart and, after a bit of debate, agreed on the location of the "Lazy River." This is not really a river at all but the shallow water separating Great Exuma from Moriah Cay. The tides create the "river" currents which, or course, change four times a day. We dinghied to the northeast tip of the cay and passed through the cut near the rocky northwest tip of Little Exuma Island and began our floating excursion, only occasionally needing to use the oars as paddles to keep in the current and avoid underwater limestone ledges. The first part of the "river" is narrow and mostly lined by sand flats and mangraves, their dark leaves contrasting with the lighter shades of green of the needles of the casuarinas behind them. After a few bends, the shores spread apart and a wide expanse of water like a lake opend up. Eventually, we were forced to turn on the engine. We kept our eyes toward the southern shore of Moriah Cay, looking for the narrow short-cut channel to the anchorage. From a standing position, I could discern the lighter values of color indicating the shallow water, and we all saw a man in knee-deep water bone-fishing and another dinghy pulled up on the shore of Moriah there. We paddled or motored through the meandering cut when we could and disembarked and walked over the wave-scalloped white sand and pulled the dinghy when it was too shallow.
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| The entrance to the Lazy River |
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| The first curve of the Lazy River |
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| Ominous clouds over Exuma Sound |
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| Germán, Lori and Peter |
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| Sherri's feet dangling from the dinghy |
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| Mangroves on the shore |
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| Mangroves with casuarinas rising behind them |
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| Sand dunes on Moriah Cay where gull-billed and least terns, plovers, American oystercatchers and osprey nest |
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| Cut through to the harbor |
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| Shallow water with small waves breaking |
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| Lori wading in the water |
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| The harbor side of the cut |
We had kept track of the ominous clouds to the north, particularly concerned about the row of anvil-shaped dark shapes looming over the water on the horizon. However, the storm passed by to the west. Still, we knew that strong winds were predicted for the late afternoon and night, so after lunch, we pulled up anchor at 2:30 in the afternoon and motored the short distance to the protected cove of Red Shanks.
I led Lori and Germán to the rock in the middle of the shallow cut between Moss Cay and Crab Cay. The current was not as strong as the last time Peter and I snorkeled there. Still, many fish swam around or hid among the colorful coral formations, including the striking queen angelfish and the disc-shaped blue tangs. We swam to the east shore of Moss Cay, where we walked the length of the beach and back before crossing the island at a narrow part to the mangrove cove close to Mantra. From there, we swam across the sandy bottom, spying a large southern stingray mostly buried in the sand. They are shy, so it swam away when I dove down to get a closer look.
The water was calm at Red Shanks when we pulled up anchor at 4 p.m. on Friday, March 1. Even though the we knew that the water would be a little choppy outside this sheltered area, we also were aware that Germán was leaving the next day and we hadn't even been to the Chat 'n' Chill yet! So off we went, anchoring off Volleyball Beach an hour later. We dinghied in for a drink from the bar and then chilled at a picnic table and chatted with other boaters. Freya from Positive Waves was selling bracelets she had made, and Germán bought one for Lori.
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| Lori, Peter and Germán with their drinks inside the Chat 'n' Chill |
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| Sherri, Lori, Peter and Germán |
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| Germán and Lori looking at Freya's bracelets |
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| Sherri, Peter and Lori by the slightly tilted Conch Bar |
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Cornhole game on the beach
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| Lori by the sign to her home town, Chattanooga |
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| Chat 'n' Chill's directional signpost |
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| Lori's panaroamic view at Chat 'n' Chill |
After our drinks, we dinghied the very short distance to the docks of Saint Francis Yacht Club for dinner at the Snappy Turtle. Germán was eager to ingest protein from a non-vegetable source!
The next day (Saturday, April 1) was Germán's last day with us. We crossed the harbor and anchored in Kidd's Cove before 11 a.m. We dinghied into Georgetown for lunch before his taxi to the airport at 1:30 p.m. The restaurants were not open until noon, so we went to the straw market, where Lori bought a onesie for her new grand-neice, born the previous day. Then we stopped in the little library, birghtly painted in bold purple with turquoise trim and shutters, to see the museum exhibits.
At the Peace and Plenty, I ordered my usual panko breaded fried cauliflower and sweet potato fries. Lori had a salmon club sandwich and Peter chose fish and chips. Germán was delighted to see hamburger on the menu. It featured bleu cheese, bacon, onion crisps, tomatoes, lettuce and condiments. He had no trouble finishing his meal, although he admitted to being quite full at the end.
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| Lori, Peter, Sherri and Germán at the Peace and Plenty Hotel |
After he caught his taxi, Lori, Peter and I went to the opening of an art exhibit from the National Art Gallery of the Bahamas in Nassau, being held at the Insurance Building in George Town near the traffic circle. At the entrance, volunteers were offering wine and soft drinks. Inside the large white-walled room there was a table with cheese and crackers and fruits and vegetables with colorful, delicious dips. The highlight, though, was the compelling and varied pieces of sculpture, pottery, photography, linocuts and paintings created with oils, watercolors or house paint that spanned a time period from the late 1800s through the present. I was fascinated by the black-and-white photographs by William Henry Jackson, an American artist famous for his scenes of the American West in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. After viewing the art, we stopped to talk to one of the curators to learn more. She was quite informative, telling us that Jackson and other American photographers visited the Bahamas off and on during this period, not only capturing life on the islands but giving local people the opportunity to learn to be photographers. The same was true of foreign painters and potters, who shared their creative processes with aspiring local artists at a time when there was no formal arts education available in colonial Bahamas.
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| Peter and Lori at the art exhibit |
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| Photograph by William Henry Jackson of Nassau in the 1890s |
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| Colorful food display |
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| Artwork created with house paint |
After our cultural interlude, we stopped at Exuma Market for some groceries before returning to Mantra and pulling up anchor to motor to Ruin's Cove on the north side of Crab Cay. The entire cay is owned by an American developer whose efforts to build an exclusive resort with about 350 luxury villas, exclusive restaurants and a megayacht marina stalled about 15 years ago. Still, there are no-trespassing signs along the shoreline. We ignored them.
The ruins referred to in the cove's name are not the highly visible industrial ones seen from the cove but the ruins of the stone house and botanical gardens of Sir William Walker, a loyalist who moved to the Bahamas after the Revolutionary War, nestled on a hill. We did not visit the house but did identify some plants; look at the metal ruins and wharves of (probably) a cement factory; and discovered the unused long rectangular rebar and cement structural supports and bundles of PVC pipe brought in for the resort construction. The only parts of the plan completed were the dredging of the cove on the north shore, the grading of some sand and bare limestone roads, and the building of a bridge from Great Exuma to Crab Cay, referred to as the bridge to nowhere. We exited the cay when the no-see-ums started to emerge and bother us.
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| Carob tree (Ceratonia siliqua) |
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| False tamarin (Lysiloma latislliquum) |
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| Cement plant ruins |
On Sunday, April 2, after a lazy morning (well, actually, Peter did some work), we motored for half an hour after lunch to the southwest side of Elizabeth Island to anchor. We got out our gear and dinghied to a mooring ball to the south of the channel markers between Elizabeth Island and Crabbe Cay. A long coral reef stretches out from both sides of this narrow part of the channel through the harbour, teeming with life. What did we see? So much! Queen angelfish in both juvenile and adult stages; Townsend angelfish; French and gray angelfish in both juvenile and initial stages; rock beauties; four-eye and spotfin butterflyfish; blue tang in juvenile, intermediate and adult stages; ocean surgeonfish; doctorfish; bar jacks; yellowjacks; blue-striped grunts; French grunts; tomtates; lane snappers; yellowtail snappers; dusky damselfish; cocoa damselfish in their distinctive juvenile, intermediate and adult stages; sergeant majors; graysby; stoplight, striped and princess parrotfish in juvenile, intermediate and adult stages; yellowhead wrasse; blueheads; and long-spine squirrelfish. There were others, but I could not make a definite identification.
When we got back to the dinghy, Peter boarded first. I swam around the reef near the mooring ball, quite content to continue to delight in the colors, shapes and movement of the fish, coral and other reef creatures. Peter as well Germán and most other men use their upper body strength to propel themselves over one of the inflated tubes of the boat onto the hard floor of the dinghy. I have never been able to do that, nor was Lori able. Luckily we have a ladder, but even then it is not easy. If you start out on the bottom rung and put weight on it, it floats up under the center of the dinghy, which does not help at all. Finally--after years of ineptitude and total lack of grace--it came to me that it would work better to get on the highest rung possible. Now, I am able to get on board with just a bit of a pull from Peter, and I think that I could do it by myself if I truly had to. Lori was taking her time getting on board--until I poked my head up and removed my snorkel to say that a large barracuda had just swum by the stern. She was on board soon after that! The other animal I saw, lurking quietly under a projection of the reef, was a goliath grouper, the first this year. He was truly quite huge, four to five feet in length and stout. I could have continued to float around just that area for much longer, but the two people already out of the water were chilled.
Showers and hot chocolate (Who would have thought of wanting hot chocolate in this near-tropical place?) warmed us up. About 6 p.m., we decided to dinghy to the southeast shore of Stocking Island to a walk on the beach. We walked along the cut toward Exuma Sound and then decided to veer away from the water and follow a path inland. The trail meandered through the trees and shrubs. We were able to identify the poisonwood tree (Metopium toxiferum), with its peeling bark. The well-maintained path kept meandering through the dense foliage, and we had absolutely no idea where it would end. As we began slapping at bugs, we emerged from the jungle at the Moriah Cay Harbour NP shelter on the southwest shore of Stocking Island near Sand Dollar Beach. Heading southeast, we walked on or near the beach past several small rocky points until we finally found our dinghy. By this time, mosquitoes were swarming around us, creating buzzing halos around our heads. We launched out into the water as quickly as possible and Peter gunned the engine and sped away from shore toward Mantra so that we could escape the multitude of biting bugs swiftly. Back on board, we had to close up the companionway and use the screens in the hatches as the sun set and the no-see-ums found their way from the shore of Elizabeth Island to us.
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| Mantra from the southern tip of Stocking Island |
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| Poisonwood tree |
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| Ghost crab near the dinghy |
On Monday, April 3, Lori and I snorkeled from the boat, exploring the various patch reefs near the shore of Elizabeth Island. We saw most of the same fish we had seen the day before, except for the goliath grouper and the barracuda, and we also spotted a long trumpetfish and a queen triggerfish with its characteristic blue diagonal stripes across the cheeks and angular shape. Near the walls along the island, we saw schools of juvenile grunts as well as other small fish and I picked up two large queen conch, the gastropods still alive inside, to show Lori. The water on the harbor side of Elizabeth Harbour is part of Moriah Cay Harbour National Park, so no harvesting is allowed (although Peter thought he saw some locals doing just that the previous evening).
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| View of Elizabeth Island and patch reefs from Mantra |
Although Lori and I usually were enjoying a leisurely lifestyle while Peter worked, after snorkeling I did do three loads of laundry and Lori helped in hanging it on the lifelines, retrieving it when it was dry and folding everything. After lunch, we pulled up anchor and went to the Exuma Yacht Club dock for potable water.
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| Laundry on the lines at Exuma Yacht Club |
While the tanks were filling, Lori and I went across the street to Exuma Market to see what was in stock and purchase a few items. Some days the bread shelves are full but there are many others when they are bare. This was another day without bread. However, since it was hot on land, we had decided to get a small carton of ice cream to share immediately since we are not running our freezer. Unfortunately for me, all the varieties contained nuts, which I do not like by themselves or in sweet food, so Lori chose butter pecan for her and Peter. Peter was ready to cast off the dock when we returned, so we put the container right next to the freezer plate in the refrigerator, hoping it wouldn't melt to liquid as we crossed the harbor to anchor off Monument Beach. It was soft but still solid, and they each savored a large bowl. Peter fed me a few bites that he thought did not have nuts; they did, and even though they were quite small, I had to spit them out! (Picky, picky, picky!)
The next morning (Tuesday, April 4), we decided to join the one hour water aerobics class by the southern end of Monument Beach, quite close to our boat. We all enjoyed the exercise, the warm water and camaraderie. (This is such a great community!) It started to rain just as the class was ending, so those of us who had not closed our deck hatches rushed back to keep out the precipitation. It rained off and on for a few hours, and we stayed on board, eating lunch and playing backgammon and a game of Quiddich.
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| Bahamian interisland freighter or "mail boat" |
When the skies cleared about 2:30, we decided to climb to the top of Monument Hill, about 120 feet (or 37 meters) above sea level. We were not sure of the best route up, but we landed the dinghy on Monument Beach and began our search for a trailhead. Behind the pond and the area where hundreds of visitors have created their boat or personal names with pieces of limestone, we found an extremely steep and sandy trail that went straight up the near-vertical cliff facing the harbor at an angle of 15-20 degrees off perpendicular. There was a piece of pink plastic tape tied to a piece of rebar at the bottom. It looked challenging but we didn't see any other way up from Monument Beach (although I was sure there had to be paths up to lower elevations and then along the spine of the island). I went first; it reminded me of the frog trying get out of well as I slipped half the distance backwards every time I made some progress uphill. Without the trunks and roots of trees and shrubs for support and leverage, it would have been impossible. With doubts, I am sure, Lori followed me, and with her longer legs she soon was close behind. I had yelled down to Peter that I thought I could make it up but I absolutely would not come back down that path, so he set off to the southeast along the base of the hill to scout for an alternative. I made it to a fork in the trail, with one branch leading off to the northwest toward the top and the other heading up to the ridge, hoping to find Peter. When I reached the crest, I could see that the trail led down to Exuma Sound with no obvious and easier cutoff to the monument. Finally, sounding like a wild board, Peter could be heard thrashing through the trees and dried silver palm and mangrove leaves on the ground, and he emerged sweating. In fact, the three of us were all sweating and hot as the afternoon sun beat down on the west facing slope. We went to the fork to begin the final ascent. Peter mentioned that this would not be a good place to experience vertigo. Unfortunately, Lori had just been rushed to the emergency room of a hospital near her home in Washington, D.C., two weeks before, having experienced for the first time benign paroxsymal positional vertigo while doing yoga. Peter's mention of vertigo aroused her anxiety, and she started feeling unable to continue. Peter and I were both ahead of her and the monument was only a couple dozen feet away. We all debated what to do. I advised her to drink more water and go in the shade to rest, but Peter and I felt uneasy abandoning her. She assured us she would be fine, so we went on. As we reached the top, she yelled up that she was going back down the steep, sandy path on her bottom, and off she went.
At the top of the hill, the five-sided monument or beacon, created as a navigational aid for sailors, sits on a squat, slanting circular base. People, probably boaters, have placed benches in various places near the monument, offering spectacular views. When we looked down on the harbor side we could see Lori waving at us from the shore, so we knew she was safe.
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| The vertical sandy strip on the right was our path up from the beach |
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| View of names created by limestone blocks on the sand of the beach |
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| The monument |
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| View looking southeast over Exuma Sound |
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| Peter on the easy trail to the dock |
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| Gumbo limbo tree (Bursera simaruba) |
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| The west-facing slope of Monument Hill |
Peter headed down the hill toward Exuma Sound and I followed a path to the northwest. We determined that my path would most likely be the best way down to the harbor side, so we chose that route. It was well-maintained and there was only one place where it was a steep clambor over a rocky outcropping, but a rope had been firmly anchored to the ground, serving as a handhold, creating three points of contact. The path became level before it reached the water, where we found a dock--an obvious place to start the hike!) We walked back to Monument Beach (which had assumed was the obvious place to get to the monument) and found Lori sheltering under a large raised platform and the scorching sunshine alternated with chilling rain. Brushing off the sand and rinsing off in the warm water, she was happy to get back in the dinghy and then to the security of Mantra.
Lori was up early on her last day in the Bahamas (Wednesday, April 5) and took a couple fantastic photos shortly after sunrise.
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| Lori ready for another exciting day |
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| Sunrise from Mantra |
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| Monument Hill |
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| Sherri after breakfast |
The three of us listened to the George Town net on the VHF radio at 8:00 and then set off in the dinghy again, this time to the hurricane holes to search for the underwater passage from there to Exuma Sound, where, we had been told, large fish from the deeper and more open water could be found. (No, we did not intend to swim through ourselves; there is a limit to our craziness.) I had looked at the charts and thought it was near the far end so that is where we searched. We found a little dock and decided to snorkel from there to hunt for the opening. Peter went one direction along the wall and Lori and I went the other. We never found the passage but we did find millions of small fish (I am unable to identify the species because many look similar in the juvenile stage.) near the underwater mangrove roots as well as sponges and coral clinging to them in a bright array of color. Neither Peter nor I observed any large fish, but Lori did. She was usually following me, and I was surprised when she quite firmly grabbed one of my legs. I popped my head out and she said, "Shark!" Unfazed, I continued to enjoy the underwater life and she swam ahead. When I popped my head up again, she was hanging on the side of the dinghy, her hands clinging to the lines and her feet up on the tube. She had also seen at least one barracuda and did not intend to remain in the water. I swam past the dock to Peter; when I looked back again, she had hoisted herself into the dinghy without assistance.
Even though we had not found the passage, I was thrilled to have seen so many fish near the mangroves and the upsidedown jellies and other creatures in the grass. I am pretty sure I saw blennies and maybe a juvenile bass. As we returned to the Mantra, we scouted along the walls, with me hanging over a tube of the dinghy with my mask and snorkel on. We found the big fish and could see the current right by a conveniently placed mooring ball! There seems to be a pattern here of starting out on excursions--whether it be at the tip of Stocking Island (Sunday), to Monument Hill (Tuesday), or to the big fish passage to Exuma Sound (Wednesday)--without any precise knowledge of starting points, end points or exact locations. It was probably a good thing that Lori was departing that day, because I am not sure how much longer she was going to entrust her safety and well-being to us!
We had one last thrill for her before she left though--the dinghy ride across Elizabeth Harbour in choppy water. With only three of us and a light piece of carry-on luggage, we were able to get up on the plane and bounce across the crests and troughs. Lori was hanging on tightly to the painter with one hand and a strap with the other. I told her to pretend like she was riding a horse; she said she was not experienced at that. When I glanced at her, she was hunched low and chanting, "Breathe. breathe." I'm not sure if she was terrified, but she looked like someone who was definitely not enjoying a ride at an amusement park. It was a brief whitewater ride under the bridge into Lake Victoria and then we arrived at the dinghy dock, where I advised Lori to sit up straight and take deep breaths. She needed a few moments to regain her composure.
We had planned to get to town shortly after 11 a.m. to have lunch before her 12:30 taxi, but we were running late (another reason for zipping across the water) and only had 45 minutes. Luckily, we were able to order appetizers at the Exuma Yacht Club immediately, and the delicious fried onion rings, calamari and shrimp as well as steamed edamame arrived in time for us to quickly consume it.
Later, back on Mantra, we received messages from her that her plane had mechanical problems and the passengers would have to wait for another one to be flown in from Atlanta. It was expected in the evening. We told her that if she was stuck at the airport, we could pick her up in George Town. I think she would have preferred to sleep on the floor of the airport than to experience another exhilirating ride in our dinghy! As it was, the plane did not arrive as expected, but Delta gave passengers vouchers for accommodations on the island.
This morning, Peter and I joined the water aerobics class again and then dinghied to the mooring ball by the under-island passage. We were putting on our gear when a small tour boat from Peace and Plenty arrived and tied up by the wall exactly over the hole, casting a shadow. We asked the boat driver to move to the mooring ball, offering to tie our dinghy to a tree, but he said he had to take care of his passengers first. After swimming around a few minutes, we decided to return another time, perhaps closer to early afternoon, when the sunshine would be illuminating the hole, and near high tide, when the fish would be even more abundant.
Peter spent most of the rest of the day working in the engine room, dismantling parts of it to reach the starboard diesel fuel tank. One of the straps holding it to the hull is broken (and apparently was not the right type of stainless steel for the job), so he is replacing it with Dyneema rope, which is 15 times stronger than steel of the same weight. It's a big job, and he finally stopped part way through it at 8:30 this evening, after which we had dinner. I spent most of the afternoon and evening writing this post and am now happy to be up-to-date.
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| Tonight's sunset |
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| Sunset |
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| Sunset |
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| Pink-tinged cumulus clouds |
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