Turtle Tales from Warderick Wells

Boo Hoo Hill, blowholes, a greeter shark … oh my! Warderick Wells was definitely our favorite stop in the Exumas this past spring. We only had time to visit a few Exuma islands before we had to move to get our boat back to safety before hurricane season began, but Phillip and I both are so glad we stretched our Exumas visit enough to let us enjoy this stunning Land and Sea park at Warderick Wells Cay. Here is where the island is located.

The natural deep channel that snakes through the harbor makes for some of the most stunning neon-streaked water views I’ve ever seen.

The snorkeling here was also some of the very best we’ve done to date. Being a Land and Sea Park it is a “no-take reserve” (meaning no fishing, poaching, or harvesting) making it a fabulous ecological preserve and wildlife refuge. 

The whole island really is breathtaking. I felt like a super model when I saw the photos of myself walking out of the water. It’s amazing what a beautiful Bahamian backdrop can do. Bo Derrick look out!

But, the island had so much more to offer than views:

The legend of Boo Hoo Hill, with its haunted howls from the souls that perished on a long-ago ship lost to the reef is a fun hike up the island and offers a signing tree with an amazing view. 

Emerald Rock gifted us with exceptional snorkeling just a short dinghy ride from our boat. I saw a baby puffer fish, a white speckled stingray, funky sea cucumbers, and a lion fish all in one dive. Sorry not sorry for the lack of underwater photos. I was living that moment! Not filming it. 

A friendly (I’m going to assume) nurse shark comes to visit every new boat that hooks onto a ball in the mooring channel. It was a little unnerving at first, knowing we were about to go snorkeling. But, when we saw him swim up to every other new boat that came in, we knew we were safe. It’s just a new breed of shark they have in the Exumas: a greeter shark. : )

There is also a sunken boat near Mooring Ball No. 10 that was really neat to dive. While the channel graciously offers enough depth for 20+ boats to cruise in, grab a ball for a few nights, and enjoy all the island has to offer, it is still only around 15-18-feet deep allowing for easy free-water diving and snorkeling. You can see the channel here that curves around, kind of like a fish hook.

Underneath the sunken boat, Phillip and I saw the biggest grouper and lobster we had both ever seen. The grouper had to be about four feet long, from nose to tail, and the lobster’s body was bigger than a basketball. Antennae to tail, he was probably longer than the grouper! We had to dive down 3-4 times to fully take them in. And, it was fun to learn from other cruisers who were there, as well as the Land and Sea Park staff, that the grouper and the lobster are apparently long-time friends who have been living under that boat for years. I wonder if they get tired of the lookie-loos … 

This is all just the tip of the Warderick iceberg. I could go on. But, when I was reflecting back on our time there—as Phillip and I are right now gearing up to kick off our cruising season this year, beginning again in the Bahamas—three distinct memories came back to me. One, I sent to Bob Bitchin in a fun “Annie-dotal” story he requested at the Annapolis Boat Show. Be on the lookout for that. It’s called They Don’t Answer Stupid Questions in the Bahamas. The other two I’ve written up for you below: 1) We Dropped the Ball; and 2) Our Time With a Turtle. : )

We Dropped the Ball

This was easily mine and Phillip’s biggest ever complete mooring ball FAIL. If you’ve ever felt like you have been “the show” in the mooring field, with everyone watching you miss the ball, lose a boat hook, trip on the deck, miss the ball again, curse, throw things, etc., don’t worry. We’ve been there, too. This was definitely our day to entertain the other boats already safely on their balls in Warderick Wells Cay. And, it was my day (of course!) to be Captain. 

Since I got my USCG license in 2017, Phillip and I try to share all roles on the boat equally … well, except when it comes to contorting into lazarettes and engine spaces. I seem to be more suited for that. But, when it comes to helming, navigating, sail trimming, deckhanding, etc., we try to keep it equal so we always have a good understanding of what the forces on the boat are doing and what the other crew member is experiencing or dealing with. It has been a very fruitful, eye-opening exercise for us as we continue to learn the obstacles and challenges unique to the traditional roles we use to play where Phillip always helmed, and I always ran around on deck like a jackrabbit on cocaine fending off and catching/tossing lines. While the mere role of Captain does not (on our boat) make one responsible for any snafoos, I will just go ahead and admit our epic fail that day was 100% my fault. But, thankfully, there was absolutely no damage, 0%, so it is now just a fun docking debacle story we get to share. As Bob Bitchin will tell you: The difference between an ordeal and an adventure is what?  Attitude. Love that guy!

So, after an unnerving exchange with Radio Lady, the Exumas Land and Sea Park gal at the headquarters who guided us in and assigned us our ball (you’ll read about her in an upcoming Lats and Atts issue), I was navigating our Niagara 35 along the narrow channel that I mentioned snakes through the harbor. It really is a fantastic, natural deep channel that—thankfully—allows us, on boats with a deep draft, to come in and enjoy this amazing place, but it was still a pretty tight little channel with a strong current pushing us toward our ball that did not have me feeling comfortable about turning around in it.

If I could avoid turning around in it, I was sure going to, which is why I told Phillip as we were approaching our ball to “Grab it at the bow.” My thinking being he would secure the ball to a bow cleat, the current would push and whip us around in a nice, tight little circle leaving us safe and latched on the ball once the boat got turned in the right direction. A great plan, right? Many of you more experienced helmsmen probably had the same reaction Phillip did.

“I think we should pass the ball, turn around, then try to get the ball as we’re approaching it, against the current,” Phillip said.

That would have brilliant. That’s not what I did. I told you I did not want to turn around. 

“Try your best to get the ball at the bow as I come up on it,” I told him. And, he did, but the current proved to be too much for him to hold it. After Phillip dropped it, I saw the ball coming up near me at the stern, and my inner deckhand/jackrabbit took over. I left the helm and grabbed the ball. But, oddly, with the ball saddled up on our port stern and the current streaming by, it was just the right cocktail of forces to park us. The boat was just sitting. Happily stopped. Only problem was we were backwards, and not secure on the ball. I gave Phillip a funny “What now?” look when he made it back to the cockpit, and he gave me a “Well, you’re the Captain” look in return. Or maybe it was a “this was your idea” look. Yeah, that was probably it. And, he was right. This was my mess. So, I decided we would walk the ball up to the bow together and secure it. A great plan, right?

Wrong again, Captain Annie.

I could just feel all eyes of the anchorage on us. Rightfully so. If I were them, I would have plopped down on my bow with a drink in hand for the free show! Cruising is full of them! As soon as Phillip and I got the ball near the bow and the boat started to turn around, she had somehow gathered the force of a thousand horses. When the current caught her stern and slung her around, it was so hard and fast that the rope loop from the ball jerked out of both mine and Phillip’s hands at the same time (leaving me with blood blisters). Suddenly we were drifting back to the edge of the channel with no one at the helm. It’s deep in the middle of that channel, but it is super shallow on either side. There’s not much room to avoid running aground.

I flew back to the cockpit to grab the helm and throw her in forward to stay in the channel. Phillip was absolutely right. It became immediately clear to me that approaching the ball using the current as a pushback was the best way to do it. It’s like docking with a head wind, much easier than with wind that is shoving you into the slip. I just did not want to turn around in that tight spot with the current.

Funny thing is, I got my wish. Because I didn’t turn us around. The current did! Along with our masterful ball-handling. (Sure, go ahead. Make all the jokes you want to right there.) While we were thrilled to finally be safe on the mooring at Warderick Wells Cay, it was clear that Phillip and I had definitely dropped the ball. 

Our Time With a Turtle

To date, this is still my #1 turtle experience ever, although I’m eager to collect more. Phillip and I were diving that sunken boat near Ball No. 10 that I mentioned, when he spotted a turtle on the bottom. Our entire time in the Bahamas, we had not yet had a good turtle spotting. They are just so fast … and shy. The minute they sense you are looking at them, the head pops down, and the turtle takes off. We chased many in our dinghy, but chase was all we did. By the time we had gone through Bimini, Andros, and Nassau, to make it to the Exumas, I was dying for a date with a turtle. And, boy did I get it! 

This little guy was munching sea grass on the bottom, minding his own business, enjoying his lunch, when Phillip pointed him out to me. Well, and I say “little,” but he was the biggest one I’ve seen that close-up. His shell was probably 2.5 feet in diameter. A decent-sized turtle. I stopped kicking and wading, thinking surely he would high-tail it out of there the minute he noticed me, like most other turtles always did, and I watched him in complete still-mode for a bit. It was cute to watch his little head extend out from his shell as he would turn it to the side and get a nice big sea grass bite. I could even hear him chewing! I watched him munch and crunch for about two minutes, then he started to make his way to the top for a breath of air. 

Phillip was about 5-6 feet away from me, watching the turtle and other things swimming around the sunken boat when the turtle stated to rise between us, putting him about 2 feet away from me, and 2 feet away from Phillip. Either one of us could have reached out and touched him! But, Turtle Guy was just slowly swimming up, not paying us any mind. Phillip and I were struck still with saucer eyes watching him. Then, a few feet shy of the top, the turtle stopped and waved his little turtle arms in a pattern to hold him steady. He turned and slowly looked at Phillip, holding his stunned gaze for a few seconds, then paddled his arms some more so he could slowly turn and look at me. The turtle and I locked eyes for another few seconds, then he kept on his path, making his way to the top, and we all broached the surface together to take a breath: me, Phillip, and Turtle Guy. Like we were some happy trio snorkeling together. That was a surreal moment we shared with a turtle. 

The turtle kept his head above water in between us for five seconds or so, then he slowly swam on down the same path back to the bottom to get back to his munching. He did this two or three times, heading down to munch for 3-4 minutes then swimming back up to take a breath and the three of us would all broach together and breathe together. It was one of the coolest experiences I’ve had while cruising. Phillip and I decided later—when we were giggling and falling all over each other in the dinghy re-living our turtle experience—that when he turned and looked at each of us, he was just taking us in, deciding if we were enemies or friends. Phillip and I both decided he saw us as friends, which is why he was fine to keep doing his thing and letting us tag along. I don’t know about you, but if you’ve ever gotten the nod of approval from a turtle, you feel just about as “one with the earth” as possible. And, even had my underwater GoPro been working, and had I captured a shot of him, I don’t think it would have done it justice, and it probably would have hindered my enjoyment. It felt nice to just be one with the turtle without the blinking red light. I will never forget that moment. 

Hope you all enjoyed the Warderick Wells tales! I would encourage any cruiser heading anywhere near the northern Exumas to plan to pull into Warderick Wells Cay and stay on a ball for a few days. It is a “must-see” place.

Next up in blog time, we’ll head back to the Berries, to gunkhole one of our favorite groups of islands, before we tuck into a new marina to stash our boat for hurricane season. Stay tuned!

BV21: To Harbour Island via the Devil’s Backbone

High times at Harbour Island High!  These high-flying kite-surfers were also there on a boat at Harbour Island when Phillip and I were there, back in March of this year, only their boat was just a smidge bigger.  Owned by a billionaire.   Yes, with a B.  It’s amazing the potluck of people you meet while cruising.  But, they were super humble and a lot of fun to “hang” with … get it? : )  From Spanish Wells, Phillip and I decided to hire a captain to help us navigate through the treacherous coral-ridden path, known as the “Devil’s Backbone,” into Harbour Island, and we spent a fabulous three days exploring ashore, kiting our a$$es off (with the billionaires!), and hiking the south side with Brett and Kristen from Life in the Key of Sea.  As we share work from our time in the shipyard this summer, it’s also fun to remind ourselves what all of that hard work is for.  Flash back to one of our last stops in the Bahamas this past March with a fun video and photos for you below from our time in Harbour Island.  Enjoy!

There was no end to the surprises the Bahamas kept revealing were in store for us.  At Spanish Wells, we were honestly expecting a more industrial fishing town, not many stunning sights.  But, then we got this:

It won the award on Plaintiff’s Rest for most beautiful beach in the Bahamas.  For us, anyway, our first year there having only made it through the Abacos, Eleuthera, and the Berries.  We’re often told the beaches and shorelines in the Exumas are just incomparable, but we haven’t seen them in person yet.  So, until then, this neon-breathtaking-blue beach on the north shore of Spanish Wells will have to do.  C’est la vie.

But, Harbour Island turned out to be a great surprise, too.  Initially, when Phillip and I were planning our route through the Bahamas in 2017/2018, Harbour Island was not one of our intended destinations.  Our (very vague, back in 2017) plan was to tinker through the Abacos, then make our way down through the ragged islands and the Exumas—to the extent we could—before we needed to get the boat back to Pensacola for hurricane season.  When we got to Spanish Wells, our cruising timeline was starting to close for the year.  Currently, Phillip and I are more “commuter cruisers,” who spend roughly half of the year aboard our boat cruising and the other half (broken up here and there) back home in Pensacola working.  Somehow you gotta pay for all this fun, right?

So, we knew our window was closing and we still had on our list: the Berries, the voyage back across the Gulf Stream to Florida, and all of the wonderful cruising we wanted to along the west coast of Florida.  With that in mind, Mother Nature decided to throw us a curve ball.  Around the time we were planning to leave Spanish Wells one of those very common north fronts came through and it looked like it was going to blow for days.

This meant we had one of two options: 1) Run down to the Exumas and try to find a place to hide there for the four-or-so days we expected weather.  (And, many of you who have been to the Exumas likely know—hiding is not a great thing to try and do in the Exumas.  The islands are just so small and sparse, they don’t offer great protection.)  So, we could either race down to the Exumas, try to hide for a bit, hope for a few clear days, then race back to the Berries and onward to home or … Option Two.  Tuck into Harbour Island, which was just a short half-day jaunt over in Eleuthera.  Here is where we were in the Bahamas:

We could then drop the hook there for a few days to escape the coming winds, explore Eleuthera and the Berries slowly, then pick our way home.  As you can imagine, any option with the word “slow” in it is likely the one that’s going to appeal to us.  You just cannot do the Exumas in five days.  I think it’s blasphemy.  Birds would start flying backwards.  Ducks would bark.  Strange things would happen.  I’m sure.

With the Harbour Island decision made, Phillip and I then had to decide whether we were feeling brave enough to navigate the very rocky and coral-ridden inlet to Harbour Island—known locally as the “Devil’s Backbone”—on our own or hire a captain to take us safely through.  You can see here the many, many coral heads that litter the path from Spanish Wells into Harbour Island!  Makes me want to tuck my keel and run.  Yipes!

The cost to hire a captain was roughly $120 (and we added a $20 tip).  While we are in no way made of money, our keel and hull are not made of material that is good to slam into a coral head.  It just seemed worth it to us—our first time coming into Harbour Island—to hire a captain to ensure a safe entry, no damage to the boat, and avoid the immense stress it would put on us trying to do that ourselves.  Now that we’ve been in and out and laid a track, I feel confident Phillip and I could now do it on our own, but we didn’t feel the need was great enough to chance it the first time, in light of the fairly low cost to ensure safe entry with a captain.

There were several captains available to take you most days, either at 9:00 a.m. or around lunch.  The run through the Devil’s Backbone took about 3.5 to 4 hours, traveling as we do at roughly 4-5 knots under motor.  The captain that took us in was very knowledgeable and nice and told us to follow him “very closely.”  He did not tie up to our boat or board, but he puttered slowly in front of us, making sure we were on a safe path, communicating with us often via radio, and he got us in safely.

And, while it was a beautiful day, gorgeous waters, and a successful navigation, there was one thing about the trip that bothered me and Phillip.  When we were envisioning doing the Devil’s Backbone ourselves, both of us had a mental image of one of us standing at the bow, sun directly overhead, pointing out coral heads left and right, giving cues to the helmsman at the wheel.  To be frank, we kind of wanted to gain that experience while following a captain so we knew we would be safe.  Like a test run with training wheels on.  But, here’s the thing: we couldn’t really see the coral heads.  Neither Phillip nor myself could make them out.  Sometimes I would feel like I saw one up ahead and it turned out to be a big patch of black sand or grass.  Then sometimes I didn’t feel like I’d seen one at all, but there it was breaching the surface where I thought there was no coral.

I can’t explain why we couldn’t see the coral heads.  Perhaps it was too early in the day, although it was a very clear, bright day, and we navigated the corally (that’s a word today) section from about 10-12:00 p.m.  Perhaps we just don’t have good coral eyes (another linguistic gem for you.)  Whatever the cause, that part about the trip made us very glad we had hired a captain because he obviously could either see them where we couldn’t, or he just knew the route between them by heart.  (We later learned it is both but mostly the latter).  Either way, it was a beautiful day and a very enjoyable journey.

Once in Harbour Island, the captain rafted up with us briefly to get his fee then sent us on our way.  Phillip and I navigated the shoals (which would later become our kiting ground when the tide was out) to drop the hook behind Harbour Island on the south side.  We took the dinghy over to Man’s Island and snorkeled around, which was really fun.  I saw my first lionfish underwater.  Oh, and sea cucumbers, too!  Those lovable lazy slugs.  Phillip and I were also very surprised to find such a diverse, budding little town ashore with plenty of shops, eateries, nice restaurants, conch salad shacks, clothing boutiques, etc.  There was a laundry mat where we washed all of our clothes and linens for $4/load and wifi in certain places.  I certainly had one of the nicest, most beautiful “offices” I’ve had in a while.  No complaints from this little remote worker!

The north side of the island also promised pretty pink beaches!  While I imagined an entire beach shoreline the color of conch shell pink, that’s not really what we got.  But the sand did have a nice rosy hue to it and—pink or not—it was gorgeous!  One of my favorite parts was seeing the horses walking along the beach.  The locals apparently give horse rides on the beach often to attract tourists (and it works!) but it was still cool to see my favorite animal in now one of my favorite places: the Bahamas.

We also inadvertently ended up dropping our hook next to another cruising couple we had previously connected with on social media: Brett and Kristen aboard Life in the Key of Sea.  We met up with them one of our last days in Harbour Island, hiked the south side, and ate at the famous Sip Sip with a stunning view of the Atlantic shore.  Brett and Kristen were very like-minded and easy-going (as most cruisers are) and we connected instantly.  It was fun to hear the places they had been, their plans going forward, and a lot of the wacky, unfounded questions we all get from people who aren’t cruisers.  Like “How do you feed the dogs?” Kristen told me someone had asked her, as they have two very lovable rescues aboard.  It’s like the ability to buy dog food in advance and store it on the boat while cruising cannot be fathomed.

People are funny!  But we always get a kick out of some of the questions we get, too.  For instance: “What do you dooo all day on passage?” is another one of my favorites.  You don’t have time to think about it, you’re usually so busy fixing things, checking the weather, holding your shift, cleaning, napping, fixing more things, researching, cooking, more cleaning, fixing something else, then it’s all of sudden the next day and you don’t know how it happened.  We definitely had a good time laughing with Brett and Kristen about these shared bewilderments from our followers!

Phillip and I also did some of our best kiting from our entire Bahamas trip in Harbour Island.  Mainly because the folks we kited with made it so memorable.  It’s always the people, am I right?!  Phillip, from our table at a little vegan restaurant, saw someone pumping up a kite on a tiny spit of sand in the harbour.  He couldn’t help it.  That man smells wind, I tell you.  Instantly, he was up, “Check please,” and we were on our way out there.  We met the folks and got to talking to them.  Obviously—when you’re all on a tiny island with no airport—the question of “How did you get here?” often comes up.  The gal with them said offhand “Oh, we’re staying here on a boat.”

“Oh, cool.  Us, too.  Ours is that sailboat over in the distance,” as I pointed.

“Oh nice,” she said (I now know) graciously.

“Where’s your boat?” I asked looking around for perhaps another monohull or cruising catamaran.

The gal got a little quiet and responded, “We’re on the biggest one here.  It’s the Trending Yacht over there.”  And by “over there,” she meant a vessel big enough to block out the sun.  The thing is 165-feet of mega-money.  It is a badass boat.  Fun video for you here:

I mean.  Whoa.  We later learned her dad, who owns the boat, is not just a millionaire.  But a billionaire.  With a B.  Say it again.  Whoa.  Check out more photos, video, and info about the boat and crew and the charters they do at Trending Yacht.

But, the crew (the two guys in the video above and photos below) and the daughter, “Biz” (short for Elizabeth), were super cool and a ton of fun to hang out with.  The crew also told us the owner of Trending is—much unlike most other mega-yacht owners who are total douchebags—very low-key.  He just wants everyone to have a good time, and wants to keep the boat in good working order so folks can appreciate it.  It felt pretty freaking cool to meet my first billionaire!  We had a great time kiting with them several days in the harbour.  The two guys helping Biz learn to kite and crewing on the boat were total adrenaline junkies, trying to loop their kite (which usually ended in monster crashes into the water), hoisting each other up into the air, launching wicked jumps on the kite, etc.  The “Trending Show” was a heck of a lot of fun to watch.

In all, Harbour Island was an unexpected treat.  Phillip and I had never really envisioned ourselves heading this deep into Eleuthera during this trip to the Bahamas.  (We had envisioned ourselves in the Exumas instead.)  But it was just further proof that when we go where the wind takes us (and not try to fight the universe’s obvious coaxing) we usually are rewarded to an unexpected but surprisingly unique and memorable new place.  Harbour Island definitely fit that bill.

Hope you all enjoy the video, write-up, and photos below.  We only have one more destination in the Bahamas to share before we scoot back across the Gulf Stream and start trickling up the west coast of Florida back to Pensacola, in blog time that is.  As I mentioned in the video, in real time, we just splashed back after 4.5 weeks in the Pensacola Shipyard with Perdido Sailor, having accomplished some very awesome and necessary projects on our boat, and we’re now working to prepare our workloads and stock the boat for this season’s cruising.  I will announce our plans soon.  We’ve got something very, very cool in store for you followers.  Stay tuned!

For now, let that Harbour Island footage roll!  Enjoy!

Following the captain through the Devil’s Backbone:

Off on a dinghy adventure to snorkel around Man’s Island:

  

Our favorite time on the boat: Captain’s Hour

Exploring the awesome little town on Harbour Island:

 

The pink beach on the north shore!

Time to get our kite on!

 

The fun billionaire-ess and her cRaZy crew!

Enjoying the little eateries and shops in town:

Hiking and dining with Brett and Kristen from Life in the Key of Sea!

I was completely sober when I took that picture … promise ; )

BV17: Marsh Harbour to Hopetown!

Enough with this maintenance in Marsh Harbour! It’s time to get sailing and set our hopes on Hopetown. This was one of our favorite stops in the Abacos. Many cruisers live here full-time on a ball in the harbor which gives the place a very welcoming, community feel. There are lots of quirky little shops, beautiful flower-lined roads and bike paths, great restaurants and the stunning Hopetown Lighthouse, one of the oldest manual Kerosene-lit lighthouses in the world. Phillip and I were incredibly fortunate to score a ball in the harbor our VERY FIRST night there (some people have waited years for one) and enjoyed a stunning three-day stay at Hopetown. Enjoy the snorkeling in Marsh Harbour, our sporty sail over to Hopetown, and a bike tour around picturesque Hopetown in the video and photos below.  Stay tuned next time for a trip to Little Harbor, a little-known hurricane hole at the south end of the Abacos where we were welcomed by friends who had just built an amazing little bungalow there. Plenty more to come!

On our way back to Marsh Harbour.  We were thrilled to find that a Delta flight opened up recently from Atlantic directly to Marsh Harbour, so that makes leaving the boat in the Bahamas while we fly back and forth to handle issues at home much easier!

I love the view from a plane window.  So much to see!

 

While we were thrilled to return, after leaving out boat in Marsh Harbour for six weeks while we flew back to Pensacola to handle some work things (and another huge thanks (and yet she still deserves dozens more!) to fellow Marsh Harbour live-aboard, Diane, who sent us amazing photos of our boat every couple of days while we were gone), we had plenty of work to do to open up and clean the boat and re-provision and prepare her for another two months of cruising in the Bahamas.  We spent the first day cleaning her, filling the batteries and propane, grocery shopping, turning the engine over, etc.  And, we were pleased to find our baby was just as excited as we were to have us back and she was full of juice and cranked right up on the first try!  Way to go Plaintiff’s Rest!

We were pleased to find, having left our Kanberra gel bins full while we were gone, that the boat smelled super fresh when we opened her up for the first time in six weeks and there was hardly any mold on the ceiling.  (In Pensacola, pre-Kanberra, we used to have tons of mold that we had to constantly wipe away with Clorox wipes during the summer).  This Kanberra stuff is the real deal people!

Filling the batteries.  Ours are Trojan wet cells that we have to fill with distilled water about every 30 days – 6 weeks.  I always laugh because Phillip looks like a coal miner when he does it!

We were thrilled the find our fancy wine bags were still in tact!

It had rained a good bit in Marsh Harbor while we were gone, which was actually a good thing because it kept the bilge flushed out and fresh.  We emptied her one time down to bone-dry to watch anew for any possible new leaks.

Then after all that work, it was time to go snorkeling in Marsh Harbour!  I got some great footage of the fishies and plant life in the video.  Hope you all enjoyed it!

Post-snorkel meal at the Jib Sheet.  Oh yeeaaaahhhh!

We packed away our Bahamas courtesy flag while we were gone.  She was only a little tattered from her first six weeks in the Abacos!

Back to our happy place!  Sundowners and read-time in the cockpit of Plaintiff’s Rest!

I made a new friend at the marina, too.  This amazing Labradoodle was so cute.  She would sit in this chair, looking very much like a human being, and watch as people walked by.  She was darling!

Sunrise over Harbourview Marina!

Time to de-dock (that’s a word in Annie land) and get this boat moving over to Hopetown!

It was a great day sailing, with winds of 18-20 kts.  On the nose, but we’ve got much better at reefing down our offshore 90% working jib (“Wendy”) so now anything up to 20 kts is still comfortable for us on the boat.  That did not used to be the case with our 135 genoa!

Following our waypoints on the Explorer charts to a “T.”  I love those charts!   They make cruising the Bahamas, even with a six-foot draft effortless.  Just follow their lat and lons and play the tides and you are golden!

We couldn’t reach anyone via the radio to see if there was an open ball in the Harbor at Hopetown (we were pretty sure they’re wouldn’t be as folks had told us cruisers covet those balls and hold them often for years), so we dropped the hook on the outside and dinghied into the Harbor to get a lay of the land.  It was kind of nice, too, to traverse that narrow inlet for the first time in our tiny little rubber boat, not the big beauty!

And, we totally scored!!  After talking to a few boats, asking around about a potential open ball (and having a few of them lightheartedly chuckle at us), we were finally sent to a guy named Dave on a catamaran who unofficially monitors the balls, and he got us in touch with this amazing guy, Truman, who runs the balls at the Harbor, and as luck would have it a couple was leaving that afternoon, so we were going to spend our evening ON THE BALL!  Phillip and I knew exactly how lucky we were and we were super excited!  But, the ball would not open up for a another few hours, so we headed to shore to grab a bite and explore!

And Hopetown, of course, did not disappoint.  Stunning Atlantic shores, crystal blue waters, stretches of white stunning beach.  It was everything we hoped it would be (no pun intended … okay maybe just a little one ; ).

We ate here at Brandon’s Bar on the beach, an awesome little salty lunch spot overlooking the Atlantic Ocean!

Pensacola representing!

These pictures don’t really do it justice.  But the sunsets and sunrises in the Harbor at Hopetown were breathtaking.  It was all you could do to just sit and watch and look around.  Something about all the boats floating around you and the colors on the water were just mesmerizing.

Time to go see what this lighthouse is all about!

Beautiful little flower-lined streets guided us along the way.  One of my favorite things about the Abacos are all the rich, luscious colors that greet you just walking the streets.  All of the pathways and roads are also very narrow, which means no freaking stink-pot, tank-sized SUVs.  Thank goodness!  Just little golf carts and foot traffic.  I have to say there is no part of me that misses the consumerism and traffic of the states.  None.

Helllooooo.

You cannot NOT go to the Bahamas and NOT get conch fritters (three times at least to compare at different places! ; )

There’s the lighthouse!  One of the last remaining manual, kerosene-lit lighthouses in the world.  This beauty was completed in 1864 and used to guide ships around the treacherous Elbow Reef.

We signed the book!  S/v Plaintiff’s Rest was here!  101 lighthouse steps we never fear!

Isn’t the view from the top amazing?  The striking colors of the water is always what catches my eyes and breath when we view the Bahamas from up high.

Got myself a little Hopetown Lighthouse trinket (and proceeds for buying this beauty go toward lighthouse preservation and restoration).  Cute huh?

Then it was time to explore more of that awesome little island.  We rented bikes (24 hours for $24, very reasonable) and spent the next day and a half biking around Hopetown.

It was even cooler to see the lighthouse from our ball in the Harbor after we had walked all the way to the top and saw the view from up there.

We left this little thank-you note and our “ball fees” ($20/night) on Dave’s catamaran, along with a bottle of white and one of my books as big thanks for his help in enabling us to score a ball our very first time there.  We certainly enjoyed our time and can easily say Hopetown is one of our favorite stops in the Abacos.  But, gees, it’s hard to even pick favorites.  There are so many.  Hope you all enjoyed the video and photos.  Next time, we will take you to Little Harbour at the south end of the Abacos and Pete’s Pub!  Stay tuned!

 

 

BV9 (VIDEO): Spanish Cay, “Zee Plane, Boss! Zee Plane!”

“I’ll bet seeing that from the air while making a landing on the runway wouldn’t be a very comforting sight,” Phillip mused as we motored our way over to it.  The dock master at Spanish Cay had given us some very good advice insisting we dive the sunken airplane on the other side of the island before leaving Spanish Cay.  “It’s just a few hundred feet out from where the runway ends,” he said.  Can you imagine being a pilot coming in and seeing the guy who came before you sunken in the water?  While that’s probably not how this plane got under the water (our guess is it was sunk as a fish and tourist attraction), I don’t think that would make me pucker any less seeing that sight from the air while coming in for a landing.  But, I’ll bet you would prefer to see it from under the sea.  So did we!  Take a trip with us folks, and dive a sunken airplane at Spanish Cay!  It’s an octopus’s garden in the sea!

Spanish Cay was certainly a fun stop.  This was the next place we stayed after our “holiday on the hook” at Pensacola Cay.  We stopped at Hog Cay, which is in between Pensacola and Spanish Cay (primarily because Pam Wall, love that gal, said “You have to see Hog Cay!) because Phillip had a hunch it would be a good snorkel spot.  And, boy was it.  I hope you all enjoyed our video from last week — Under the Sea at Hog Cay.  Pam Wall also said she and Andy wanted to buy one of the islands there.  And probably live forever on their boat with the palm trees.  I could totally see that!  Unfortunately, I had to send her a selfie with the main Hog Cay island I’m guessing they wanted behind me showing it was already happily occupied.  “Someone must have beat you to it, Pammy!” I texted her that day.

But I can see why Pam wanted to buy it.  Hog Cay was a beautiful little group of islands surrounded by shallow, shimmery water and it was the perfect day-stop before we made our way over to Spanish Cay.

When you first dabble into the northern Abacos, it’s difficult to decide where to go when and how long to stay.  Every island has a unique vibe and beauty to offer.  While Phillip and I try very hard to not cruise on a schedule, we are not full-time live-aboards (with no more work/home ties) yet, so we did need to spend just a day or two or four at whatever islands we stopped at to keep making way.

We were actually inspired, by another couple who had been anchored out at Pensacola Cay near us, to stop at Spanish Cay.  They left the day before us, on Christmas Day, and shouted across the water as they weighed anchor: “We’re headed off for a spa treatment.”  Meaning, they were planning to stay at the marina.  In cruiser-speak, that is spa treatment!  Give the boat a good wash down, fill the tanks, give ourselves a good wash down, eat out on the town.  That equates to spa in our salty book!  So, Phillip and I planned to pull the hook early the following morning, on December 26th, toodle over to Hog Cay and spend a few hours snorkeling, then make our way over to Spanish Cay for our spa night at the marina.  And Pam was right.  Hog Cay did not disappoint!

But, as with every other island we have visited so far in the Abacos, Spanish Cay was definitely memorable as well.  For many, many reasons: the perfectly quaint little marina, with crystal clear green water (it was hard at times to believe our keel wasn’t touching!).

The little tiki-hut bars around the pool area and other resort amenities (fun restaurant, bar, ping-pong, golf-carts for rent, etc.).

Lots of walking trails that allowed you to traverse pretty much the entire island shore to shore and get some great “just taking it all in” exercise.

Stunning shorelines on the Atlantic side!

  

That unmistakable Bahamas “putty sand” (or at least that’s what I call it).  It was funny how it’s so different from the sugar-white, crystal, quartz sand we have at home in Pensacola.  The sand in the Bahamas almost feels like play-doh.

Fantastic little sunset seating where we watched the sun go down (and enjoyed coffee and a little “work time” the next morning) … when the flies and gnats weren’t eating us alive.

  

Perfect view of the sunset from our cockpit (the view is always the best from the stern of Plaintiff’s Rest).

Not to mention the super-scary “marina watchdog” at the marina office.  Her name was actually Lady Elizabeth (or something equally regal) and she would grunt and scuttle her way over to anyone who walked in the door and looked capable of giving her a belly rub!

And the actual-scary nurse shark that patrolled the marina daily, zipping in and out under our boat, looking for dinner.  He was definitely on the hunt!  And, he was definitely not getting any belly rubs from this shark-savvy sailor.   I know they don’t want anything to do with me, but I’ll leave them to patrol their waters without an edible Annie in the mix – ha!

And while the sunken airplane—which we motored over to, anchored near, and dove the next day before heading off to Powell Cay—was definitely a highlight of Spanish Cay for us, I can easily say it was not the single memory that sticks out.  Donnie does.

As we motored up to Spanish Cay, checking our charts and looking at the landmarks to make a safe entrance into the marina, we noticed this triple-decker, white mega-yacht docked at the marina.  We literally saw this big white boat on the horizon well before we could actually make out that it was the marina, and it was the last big, white blob on the horizon that we saw as we left Spanish Cay in our wake the next day.  That white water mansion could be seen for miles.  Once we docked at the marina and got a look at her we could see it was a multi-million-dollar, three-story super yacht parked at the end of the dock at Spanish Cay.  Status Quo it was called.

Phillip and I mused that it must be some mega-millionaire who keeps his boat there and flies in once a year to spend a few weeks in the Bahamas, leaving the rest of its time on the water to the hard-working crew.  We had seen this a lot.  Massive, luxury yachts that are handled, cleaned, cared for, and prepped by captains and usually a handful of staff to make sure every surface of the boat gleaned, and every locker and fridge was filled with the finest wines, liquors, and foods, for when the owner and friends arrived.  After Phillip and I cleaned up and eyed the yacht while walking up for dinner at Wreckers, we wondered whether the owner was in the Bahamas and on-board now or whether the captain and crew would be “playing owner” tonight just for fun.

We had asked earlier that day when we checked in about making a reservation there at the marina restaurant that night for dinner, and the gal at the front desk replied, “Let me see if she’s planning to cook dinner tonight.”  While this might seem odd in the states—a restaurant that is seemingly open but they are merely debating “whether or not to cook tonight”—this was a perfectly reasonable explanation in the Bahamas.  Everything runs on island time there.  Stores are not just open every day 9-5 like they are at home.  Grocery stores don’t always have all the food items you want.  The water does not always work.  The restrooms and laundry facilities don’t always work.  But, it is always beautiful and the people are always (open, stocked, working or not) super friendly and glad that you’re there.  What is always guaranteed is a good time and usually a good island story to boot.  This was ours from Spanish Cay

I believe her name was Nita, but don’t hold me to that, or any Bahamian cruiser reading this, feel free to correct me, but she was the wonderfully joyful cook at Wrecker’s Bar and we were in luck.  Because she was agreeable to coming to cook for us that evening at the restaurant.  But, that meant Nita was going to have to come back that evening by boat and she needed to wrap up dinner and get back home where she lived (it sounded like Little Bahamas Island) again by boat at a decent hour.  Trying to accommodate this (as Phillip and I would normally eat dinner around 7:00 or 7:30 p.m.), we made a reservation for 6:00 p.m.  The marina gal wrote it down, but caught us later while walking around the resort and asked if we could “do 5:30” to make it easier on Nita and we said “Sure.”

“Guess we’ll be getting the early bird special tonight,” Phillip joked as we made our way back to the boat to get cleaned up for our big night out.

Now, I have mentioned this here on the blog a time or two and it’s no secret—Phillip will readily admit it—but between the two of us, he is by far the Shower Diva.  As you can clearly tell from our photos, Phillip is a polished, put-together, quite-stylish guy and that just doesn’t happen by magic!  He has a pretty extensive shower routine he likes to indulge (particularly when we’ve opted for “spa treatment”).  It always reminds me of McCauley in his one-hit wonder where he claims to have “cleaned very nook, every cranny.”

My shower routine is more along the lines of an elephant going through a carwash.   “I’ll take the scrub and shine, with the buff at the end.”  As a result, I usually get back to the boat well before Phillip does even though we leave at the same time to head to the marina showers.  That day was no different, but as I was passing the marina office, the office gal stopped me again to let me know Nita was there and ready to cook whenever we could join for dinner.  It was 5:17 p.m.  I hadn’t even had my two happy hour cocktails or my usual happy hour snack yet.  But, I didn’t want to hold Nita up since she had come all this way just to cook us a dinner, Phillip and I being the only boat (other than the monstrous Status Quo at the end of the dock, seemingly sitting empty) at the marina at the time.  But, as I sat and waited for Phillip to come back from the shower, Nita sat, as well, and waited quite visibly for us.  She appeared to be a jolly, older black woman, and she was sitting on a bench seat in front of the restaurant facing our boat.  Just sitting.  Watching.  Waiting on us.

I decided to take my first drink below while Phillip made his way back.  I pointed Nita out to him through the cabin windows when he arrived and told him I thought we should probably move our little spa party to the restaurant as soon as possible.  “Fine by me,” Phillip said throwing on some flops.  “I’m ready for a Nita feast anytime.”

The minute we stepped off the boat, Nita popped up off her bench seat and made her way around to the back of the restaurant.  When Phillip and I came in and pulled up some stools at the bar, Nita was quick to hand us some menus and ask us what we would like to drink.  While she poured us our first round of white wine, Phillip and I watched a catamaran make their way into the dock (because as we all know, the most entertaining thing to do at a marina is watch other boaters come in) and started to get curious whether we’d soon have two other cruisers joining Nita and us for dinner.  As Phillip and I meandered around the little bar, looking at all the pennants, signed t-shirts, old photos from fishing tournaments, and other nautical trinkets you often see pinned around marina bars (well not just specific to the Bahamas, but anywhere, really), we heard a booming voice erupt from the kitchen.

“Well ahoy, sailors!” a jolly middle-aged fella said, coming up from behind the bar and pulling the cork out of the wine bottle Nita had started for us and topping our glasses off.  “I like your sloop,” he said.  Ours being the only sloop sailboat (and the only boat of three actually) at the marina, this wasn’t too wild of a stretch that he knew we were the sailors on the Niagara.  “Donnie’s the name,” he said as he stuck out a pink meaty paw to shake ours.  This, too, was not unexpected in the islands: bartenders introducing themselves.  Everyone introduced themselves: dockhands, waiters, charter boat captains, dive boat captains, marina staff, the guy making you a conch salad on the side of the road.  That’s one thing we love about the islands.  No one is in a hurry, and no one is too busy or important to extend a hand and give yours a shake.  And, boy did Donnie have a good shake.

“So what you looking to get for dinner?” Donnie asked, and we both just assumed he worked the restaurant, or just the bar perhaps.  You could never tell.  But, it was clear Nita was now getting things ready back in the kitchen and Donnie was now here to happily serve us.  We started to poke down through the menu as the other couple from the catamaran made their way in and bellied up to the bar, an older couple (as is often the case with Phillip and I) but they seemed more at home at the Wrecker’s Bar and Donnie obviously recognized them and welcomed them in as old-timers.  Donnie watched as Phillip and I eyed the menu and started food bartering as we often do:“Do you want to get two salads, and we’ll split an entree or are you wanting a whole entree to yourself?”  “Okay, one salad, now the blackened grouper or the fish sandwich?”  And it seemed Donnie then could no longer hold back:

“You want my advice?” he asked with a grin.  He seemed a wise, long-time Bahamian local type, which is always the kind of advice we want.  “I’ll just go ahead and admit it,” Donnie said with a smile and no hint of an ego.  “I’ve got the best conch fritters in all the Bahamas.”  Phillip and I probably smirked a little, because that was a pretty bold statement, but it did not deter Donnie.  “Yep.  All of them.  And I can easily say that because I am a meat master.  I know what makes conch fritters good.  Do you?”  Phillip and I sat completely stumped but excited to hear more from the charismatic Donnie.

“They gotta be tender, see?” he said, making a kind of pulling motion with his fingers, like he was pulling strings apart.  “Conch, when it comes out of the shell, is tough as shit.  And, while beating it with a hammer,” Donnie said while re-enacting a vicious hammer beating on the bar, “can help, it’s not going to really tenderize it.”  Back to the pulling motion, “No, you need a machine that cuts into the meat and pulls it apart, that can make holes in it, so you can fill it with juice and batter.  That’s how you make good conch fritters.”  Donnie let just enough silence sit in the air until I—ever the curious one—asked the question it appeared he loved to get and loved to answer.”

“What kind of machine?” I asked, and that kicked off the entire thing.  Donnie began a rather colorful, entertaining diatribe where he described he and his family long-standing operation of raising and selling chickens out of west Texas.  Donnie said while they used to have a “whole hut of Mexicans” who would spend their day knifing and pulling and tenderizing the chicken meat, Donnie and his brother eventually invented a meat tenderizing machine “with hundreds of tiny teeth” Donnie described, his hands propped up on his generous belly looking like little claws going at each other.  He and his brother would then run the chicken breasts through their nifty meat-tenderizing machine and they would come out fully-tenderized on the other side, perfect for breading and frying.  As Donnie told his colorful tale, he was often topping our wine glasses up, taking down both our order and that of the catamaran couple across the way, who were equally caught up in his chicken tenders story.

Donnie also happily served us our meals when they came out.  Phillip immediately ordered the cracked conch when Donnie said his was the best in the Bahamas (I mean, why doubt him?) and I ordered the grouper which was coated in what the menu said was “Spanish Cay sauce” which Donnie promptly told me was “a stick of butter, white wine and lemon.”  Sold!  And boy was it good.  Donnie took great care to make sure we, only the four of us in the entire restaurant that night, had whatever napkins and cutlery we needed, topped-off our water and wine glasses, and even offered us free dessert in the form of Nita’s special “raisin cake.”  I would say it might be one regret of the evening that we didn’t take him up on the cake, but we were so stuffed from the conch and grouper and wine.  Donnie was right.  Phillip and I have since had cracked conch four or five times in the Bahamas, and Donnie’s is still easily (hands down and miles apart) the best.  It is tender and soft and the batter, very light, seems to be literally a part of the meat.  It’s not conch surrounded by batter.  They become one and the heavenly-same.

But, as Donnie continued his story about the meat-tenderizing machine and what they used it for, I started to sense his machine had been a much bigger, national hit than he was letting on.  Words like “Dairy Queen, Wal-Mart, and Tyson,” started to slip out as his main purchasers.  As we finished up dinner and Donnie could see that Nita had pleased us all and could get back home at a reasonable time to her family (it was probably just a little after 7:00 p.m. at this point), he then cleaned away our dishes, ran our cards, and handed both couples our checks.  He bid us all a wonderful evening, told us to enjoy our stay at Spanish Cay and he then came around from behind the bar, with the remainder of the third bottle of white he had just opened for us in his hand, said he had to get back to his “little boat,” and walked out the door.

Phillip and I started to chuckle with the other couple, exchanging equal sentiments about what a fun night it had been and what a memorable experience.  I then made a comment that he was one of the best bartenders we’d had so far in the Abacos and the other couple laughed.  Apparently the catamaran couple had been stopping here often in Spanish Cay during their usual three-month visit to the Abacos each year and they knew Donnie.  “Oh, he’s not just the bartender.  He owns the whole place,” as they waved their hands around the bar.  “Runs it like he’s serving family.  And he lives on Status Quo out there.”

And, sure enough, as Phillip and I were meandering down the dock back to our “actual little boat”—our heads swimming a little from the wine, the succulent conch and butter, and the congenial atmosphere that had immersed us at Spanish Cay—we saw Donnie walking toward his “little boat,” drinking straight from the bottle and singing to himself.

All night long, we’d been sitting at the bar and Donnie, the mega-millionaire, who lives on a three-story monster, luxury yacht, had been happily waiting on us.  Bringing us dishes and napkins and repeatedly filling our glasses.  He didn’t even charge us for half the  stuff, just a glass of wine each.  I guess technically it was just one glass each, but he kept refilling it.  The world needs more people like Donnie.  That’s about the happiest, humble millionaire I’ve ever met.

And that was our wild night at the Wrecker and a most memorable evening at Spanish Cay.  Just one of a dozen others we are piling up each day.  Now this crew is off to dive a sunken airplane right off the edge of the tarmac!  I’ll bet that wouldn’t give any pilot flying in the sky a good feeling about landing there.  But, we were excited to see what awaited us beneath!  Hope you are all enjoying the content and videos.  The Bahamas, and Donnie and his meat-tenderizing machine, have definitely been treating us right!

BV 8 (VIDEO): Under the Sea at Hog Cay

“Time to go explorkeling!” shouts Scuba Annie!  Yes, Phillip loves cruising with me.  This was our first stop after we wrapped our “holiday on the hook” at Pensacola Cay.  I could write about what we found at Hog Cay but this footage encompasses a thousand words.  The beauty of coral and marine life speaks for itself.  Some very awesome underwater footage for you guys here, from our first snorkel in the Abacos, at Hog Cay!  A very awesome underwater soundtrack, too.  Phillip chose the music: BØRNS 10,000 Emerald Pools.  “You’re all I need to breathe.”  Ahhh … perfect!  Enjoy!