Hard at Work in Gtown

The pace has picked up as the Cruising Regatta looms large in the Elizabeth Harbor anchorage. Wayne is totally hooked on his Total Immersion swimming program, and is practicing in the 74-degree water now as I sit at J&K on the internet again. He is the busy one this year, with daily volleyball practice and competition, as well as meetings of the various activity chairmen and putting together a band. He has taken it upon himself to put together this year's version of "White Folks on Boats". The cruisers were requested to do so and to participate in the Bahamian Music Festival to be held in late March. This is a tradition that has gone on for quite some time and it would be a shame not to participate. So, we are going to perform his new original "Georgetown Funk" as well as a few other songs, accompanied by a couple of other cruisers on guitars. Wayne will sing a couple of songs, our friend Doug will sing a couple, and I am mortified by the idea that they want me to sing a couple of songs as well. I probably will not load that performance up to UTube as my singing has never been of the appropriate calibre. Be that as it may, what happens in Georgetown, stays in Georgetown. There is ridiculously little other news to report except that our friend Mary will be arriving soon with her sister. We look forward to hanging out with them at the Peace and Plenty pool and perhaps even taking a real shower.

Georgetown, week One

We’re closing in on the end of a week in Georgetown. Although the activities, places, and faces are largely the same, it doesn’t “feel” quite the same. The economic disaster wrought upon the world by G.W. Bush and his cronies has stretched its long tentacles into the cruiser community. Some of last year’s longtime cruisers were forced to sell their boats and get jobs. Others simply stayed home. The clan of adventuresome young Canadians who came down either in pairs or with young children has vanished. The die-hards remain – those who sold their homes long ago for big, comfy boats and the Georgetown lifestyle. Folks whose wealth was so massive and secure that they have withstood the shitstorm are also here. That leaves a few of us ragged cruisers in little boats who were really pretty marginal to begin with and have remained so. The anchorage has a bit more of a right-wing feel to it. This is nicely counterbalanced, however, by the continued presence of the older French Canadians en masse. They were adventuresome youngsters themselves once, and remain buoyant and raucous. (Read: they are still liberal party animals.)

Wayne is the Chairman of this year’s Regulation Volleyball Tournament for the upcoming Cruising Regatta. He has been playing every afternoon at the four-on-four, bump, set, spike courts where the level of competition is high. I’ve been inserting myself into more and more of the “fun” volleyball games where any idiot can walk on the court and make a fool out of her/himself. Well, I guess I’m getting slightly better at it, but it’s still just a diversion and nothing I can claim I can really do.

Beach Bridge is still fun when I can put a game together. My partner from last year has already left for further south and I haven’t put together a solid partnership with anyone else yet. No matter, pickup games are almost always possible. My pilates classes are picking up in terms of attendance, and people never cease to ask me to become involved in various skits and activities during Regatta week. You have to be a good sport about this kind of thing, it really is fun if you just relax and get involved.

Wayne has been taking a class in a swimming technique called “Total Immersion”. He has been coming home significantly water-logged and has had dripping sinuses ever since, but has stuck with it. It’s a technique designed for long-distance swimmers and triathletes in which the glide phase of the crawl stroke is elongated and exaggerated and the body literally corkscrews through the water. Today is the last class, so I’m interested to join them and see if Ican’t learn a thing or two as well. After that; practice, practice, practice. According to the instructor it takes 5000 strokes to really get the technique. The class is held in a lovely mini-bay with a mini-beach where the water is less choppy and there is no dinghy traffic. To be sure, it’s a gorgeous setting and the weather has been superb. There are worse places to go and get your work done.

Georgetown, at last...

We picked an excellent two-day window to get to Georgetown, and arrived yesterday afternoon around 4pm. There was very little wind on Thursday, but we got a little bit of "mo" out of it on a close-hauled reach and arrived at Cave Cay mid-afternoon no problem. There were quite a few boats already anchored there, and another selection anchored outside the Galloit cut. We chose the Cave Cay cut for three reasons: 1. it is straightforward and short. 2. it is deep. 3 we have been in and out of it before. Yes, it's narrow but we only have a nine foot beam. We met a very charming couple aboard Sweetwater, Hattie and Ludo, who were anchored just in front of us. We jumped in the beautiful, clear, turquoise water for a swim at just about the same moment they did, which prompted a floating conversation. They were also headed to Georgetown on Friday, and had spent the previous week in Black Point. That evening we enjoyed an outstanding sunset, which had all the potential for the green flash. As the huge, orange-yellow orb slipped out of sight, I turned to Wayne to remark upon the missing flash. Just at that same moment, the whole anchorage erupted in screams of delight - the flash was small, but there! Wayne saw it, I missed it. Can only hope to see it again another time.

The next day we made slow headway through the cut due to lingering current (two and a half to three knots) but we were steady and made it out fine. The wind again gave us just the slightest angle, but the sound was smooth and it was a relatively uneventful day. Entering Georgetown (Elizabeth) harbor is a four or five-step maneouver, which we had programmed into the GPS as well as consulting the sailing guide for visual clues. We navigated the entrance successfully and came to rest at anchor right in front of the Monument, as before. After a celebratory boat beer, we pumped up the dinghy and took a walk on the beautiful ocean beach, which has re-established itself after last year's devastating storm. As we were returning to grab a burger at the Chat-n-Chill, we found our friends Pam and Oliver out relaxing in their cockpit. They invited us for a quick drink, then off to a burger and fries. It's heavenly to be back!

Get to the Point, Stick to the Point

The wind has not ceased to blow 15 to 25 knots for about a week now. It has been east to northeast the entire time. Since our trusty Tohatsu did not like the bashing into the waves on the dinghy ride from Big Majors Spot to the Staniel Cay Yacht Club, we decided we needed to make a move. We had planned a lovely breakfast at the Club and then attending church services on Staniel. Fearing dinghy motor failure, we elected to move to Black Point instead, where the dinghy ride to the town dock is much shorter. What a great decision this proved to be. After exiting the Big Majors anchorage and rounding Sandy Cay, we were able to turn the motor off and sail a mere 6 nautical miles to Black Point close-hauled. The Black Point anchorage is large and fine, easily entered from the south by running parallel to the coast. Supposedly we should be protected from the ENE wind, but it seems to sweep up over the island cliffs and down into the anchorage. Being that there is no current to worry about, it’s still a comfortable, if windy, place to swing.

Black Point is the governmental headquarters for the northern Exumas, from Highborne Cay to Big Farmers. It is a nice little out-island town with colorful little houses and friendly people. The town is very cruiser-friendly on a nice safe bay for anchoring with free garbage service and community water. The water tastes weird, but it is safe to drink so who cares? It’s free! Cruiser central seems to be Lorraine’s Café, where you can get lunch or dinner, self-service beers and sodas in the large refrigerator, trade in your books, and access wifi and three or four of her PC towers in the “internet lounge”. Internet access is available for a donation of your choosing. It’s slow, but it’s always slow down here. It’s lovely, quaint, clean, and fun to meet up with other cruisers and discuss adventures. Lorraine’s mom offers home-baked bread on a daily basis, and will take in your washing. Her grandma gets in the act with pastries and sweet rolls. Like almost everyone else on the island, Lorraine’s last name is Rolle. (There is Rolletown on Great Exuma, and Rolles populate a significant part of this chain of islands.) There is also DeShamon’s restaurant and rooms, and the Scorpio Bar. It always pays to be careful around Scorpios, so we have not yet sampled their offerings. They do have incredibly reasonable prices on sandwiches, so we may have to be brave and just plunk ourselves down in there one time.

The anchorage faces a horseshoe beach which dries very far out at low tide. This morning we took a great run which lead us to the northern edge of the anchorage the rocky, coral spine of the island (Great Guana). The sun is shining brilliantly again, and the combination of fresh ocean breeze and bright sunshine was invigorating. The moon is full presently, which sets up a lovely view around 6pm at which time the fiery orange ball of the sun plunges quickly into the west while the moon reigns in her silver splendor high in the eastern sky. We had hoped to catch a green flash again, but no luck last night. It was so lovely, and we are so close to Georgetown, that I asked Wayne to pull out the conch horn and give ‘er a blow. To our delight, the call of Wayne’s horn was answered by a number of other boats at anchor with their own conch creations. We are really not far now, only 50 or so miles from Georgetown. The sunset conch concert really brought home or proximity to our destination and the idea that we are going to get there.

The wind should die down on Wednesday, so our current plan is to sail to Cave Cay on Thursday. We’ll anchor there for the night in preparation for going out the Cave Cay cut and into the sound on Friday for the last 30 miles of our trip. The wind is predicted to be very light and dead on east, so we should be able to get some kind of reach going. The “sound” is hardly a sound like you might see on the ICW, it’s a BIG piece of ocean that happens to have islands on either side. It is to be respected and feared. Knowing that, we are looking at Friday as our best opportunity because it should be very calm. Still, sailing is full of surprises. We’ll just have to see what it’s like when we get out there.

Oh, and as for the title of this post – this is what is painted on the seawall at Black Point. It’s the first thing you see when you arrive at the dinghy dock. Good advice.

On to Black Point

We had a great following wind across the Yellow Banks, preceded by an interesting time getting out of the TPA Marina. The manager was not anxious for us to leave at low tide, so we waited until 10am at which point it took three guys to handle our lines as we had to back straight out, then make a 90 degree turn to port, then zoom past the big power boats before the wind and currents could catch us. Our sailor friends understand how interesting this can be. We were successful and had a long day to Norman's Cay. The anchorage was over-crowded as it is small and arranged in a narrow curving arc of deeper water with coral and sand on the other sides. We touched once, but managed to get a decent spot upon the third try. Bumpy night, then on to Staniel. Great, huge anchorage at Big Majors Spot, no problem getting a great space but now both our dinghy motors are not working well so we'll have to move on tomorrow to Black Point where the dinghy ride to town is about one tenth of what it is here. It's ok - we've never seen Black Point before and it is the second largest settlement in Exumas (only Georgetown is larger). The fun never ends.

Surviving Nassau and on to Staniel

Here is the "Leap of Faith" which figured so prominently in our last post. After spending all day at the marvelous water park in Atlantis, we spent the evening aboard the Maratani X for the Super Bowl. Much less dangerous in the water park, as refreshments flowed freely during the evening, resulting in a sluggish day after. Go Steelers. Today a rainy front has been persistently sprinkling everything so as to ensure sogginess inside and out. It's our day to provision for the 2-day run to Staniel Cay tomorrow and Thursday. The weather isn't great but isn't too bad - the wind swinging northwest, then north, then northeast at 15 to 20 knots. Hopefully we will not have a replay of the trip across the banks, but this is our only opportunity and it's been great but it's time to leave Nassau. More news from Staniel when we get there.

Atlantis

We made delightful new friends here at the Poop Deck a couple of days ago. Upon arriving at the bar, I struck up a conversation with the lady next to me, a tiny blond lady sitting next to a seriously salty, blue-eyed sailor. She is Sandi and he is Captain Mike of Aquabelle, a beautiful mega-yacht. We have been practically inseparable since. More news on this when I can post up the pictures, but the most fantastic outcome of this chance meeting is that we spent all day yesterday at Atlantis Resort on Paradise Island playing in the water park. Captain Mike was able to get additional crew passes as we had helped him bring the boat to the marina on a blustery, difficult day. Interesting to see there are still enough wealthy people in the world to populate this incredible place. You have to look it up on the internet, it would take me too long to describe it. Highlight of the day: The Abyss. This is a fully enclosed water slide, most of which is in complete darkness. This is a good thing. If you saw what you were about to do, you might think more than twice about the wisdom of this idea. It starts with a 60-foot almost vertical dead drop, then hurtles you around (still in the dark) several fast curves, a brief spit into sunlight, and finishing once again in the dark into the splashdown pool. At first you cannot even breathe. You wonder what the hell is happening to you in the dark. Next, you realize you must breathe, but there is not even enough breath to scream, only that which is sufficient to keep your lungs inflated with air, not water. Next, a glimpse of sunlight, which appears to be reassuring but in fact is not, as you realize you are no where near done yet. Gulping a big breath in this time, you plunge back into blackness and your brain starts to believe you are going to survive as you are deccelerating somewhat. Finally you arrive in the splash pool, shaking all over. Relief floods through your body, but the adrenaline is still so high that you take that big lungfull of air and whoop like an idiot. Then, you gotta laugh. Why do adults do this kind of thing? I dunno - maybe training for the next exciting sailboat adventure.