Crooked and Acklins Islands, The Bahamas

07. Jan. 2015
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The Bahamas
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1 Comment

Author: Miranda

The anchorage at Clarence Town left a great deal to be desired, so when we heard that we’d be getting only south-east wind for several days (the exact direction we’d need to sail to), we picked the flattest of those days, and shamelessly motored the entire crossing from Long Island to Crooked. We were lucky. The seas were dead flat, and we only had to cut fishing buoys out of our props once. Goodie. Our first stop was Landrail point, on the northwestern side of the island.

The settlement of Landrail point does nothing to stick out on a map. So, we planned on spending a quick night here, then heading off to Acklins Island in the morning. But the locals had something different in mind. We landed on the 30^th, planned to sail out on the 31^st, and had completely forgotten that New Years was a day away. (Wait, what day is it today?) When we took a stroll around town, in search of a few groceries, not a single local would less us pass by without stopping to chat, ask if we needed a ride, and feverishly tell us that we just had to spend New Years in Landrail. There was a big party planned and we were clearly missing out by leaving early.

Pete and I are travelers, and I’ve come to realize that traveling by sailboat can lend itself to sequestering yourself in that little bubble of a boat you live on, if you’re not careful. For me, traveling means interacting with a new environment, a new people, and a new culture. It’s about observing, listening, and learning about how others live. Therefore, taking the opportunity to glimpse into how people live on the islands we visit is important to me.

So, we stayed for the festivities.

Turns out the party was at a damn resort. Full of white people on vacation. We even played an hour of Cards Against Humanity for Christ’s sake.

Jinxed by the soapbox yet again.

But, it was a great time. We had blast. Really. There was a limbo contest that’s won by the same guy every year, and whose grand finale occurs when he limbos under a bar that is held up by two beer bottles. Beer bottles, people! It was quite a sight. The live band played classic American hits, even though they didn’t know the words. And at 1:00 am, who can really tell if they are singing each word or just slurring sounds together at the tricky parts? “Shiu feel up mah sehnses, like a nide ina fores…”

On the first, we celebrated the beginning of 2015 by sailing the 40 miles down to Acklin’s southern tip in that hangover haze that comes from too much cheap rum and not enough greasy late-night-diner food.

Where as our stay in Acklins was full of folks excited to hear our story, Crooked Island couldn’t have felt more devoid of civilization. The winds blew hard while we were here and the squalls frequent, so we hunkered in and got some projects done on the boat. Our grill now has a sweet new sunbrella cover. Fancy that!

Pete did plenty of snorkeling, but a few hammerhead shark sightings took the life out of our spearfishing gusto.

Apparently there are tens of thousands flamingos on the island, and we attempted to trounce around on the island looking for them, but soon realized we had no idea where they might be, and bushwhacking through a mosquito filled marsh wasn’t exactly our idea of a good time. Instead, we explored the conch graveyard along the beach.

When it looked as through the winds would finally calm down, we readied ourselves for our first overnight passage to Matthew Town on the island of Great Inagua. From our anchorage, we could watch as the many freighters passed by on their way to the Windward Passage, so we knew we’d see some action on the 70-mile passage south.

Anticipation, excitement, and a touch of nervousness hung in the air as we pulled up anchor and headed to our final port in the Bahamas.

George Town to Long Island

27. Dec. 2014
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The Bahamas
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2 Comments

Author: Pete

Still hanging out in Georgetown after Casey left waiting for my sister Chelsea to arrive! And our new mainsail as well! On our first foray to collect both precious cargo items we were dismayed that both had gotten tangled up in the mysterious web of Bahamian air transport. Chelsea was stuck in Nassau and the sail was AWOL. Eventually we collected both, but had to do some finagling with customs.

Apparently, customs will charge duty on anything non-essential to your boat that is being imported, whether shipped in as freight, or packed in with a visitor. Thus, we had to prove that the sail wasn’t a trivial piece of kit for the boat, that our current mainsail was inoperable and in need of replacement. So we gave our best puppy eyes to an official who didn’t seem like he was having any of it. After we showed him the carnage of the tears and our sad patches he eventually allowed it through without duty. Thank goodness…

After collecting Chelsea we took a hike over Stocking Island. Chelsea related to us her arduous trip from Seattle and as we found a swimming hole on an empty beach and got busy wallowing in the clear water. On the way back to the dinghy we stopped in a stand of long-needled pines and gathered boughs for a Christmas wreath! What are pines doing on a tropical island anyway?

The following day we made a provisioning run to the Exuma Markets, filled water jugs, diesel and gas. Back on the boat after stowing all our goodies, we put up our handsome new sail. Many hands made light work. Wrapped up our sad old sail and tucked her away in the bilges. Poor girl.

The following morning we woke early and motored out of Georgetown heading east. Light winds happily allowed us to sail straight to our destination, the northern tip of Long Island. Chelsea was at the helm for most of the trip and seemed right at home on the boat. The grand, sandy Calabash Bay welcomed us in time for a couple sundown gin and tonics.

Calabash had a little roll to it, so the next day we decided to squeeze through the tiny cut into Joe’s Sound. On charts it looks good once you’re in. The entrance is not too much wider than our twenty-foot beam and it was tense for a minute as we inched our way in with spotters on each bow. Once in, we had cover from the wind but were immediately grounded as we tried to anchor. The current in the narrow sound is fed from the vast shallow areas that drain and fill every six hours. As we engaged our hook, the current swept us right into a sand bank and embedded our starboard skeg in the sand! Rude. After some laps around the deck with our arms waving above our heads, we used our second anchor to kedge off into the deeper channel just meters away.

But the fun wasn’t done. We added a third anchor off the starboard side to hold us against the broadside current. It held through lunch, but the bow anchor pulled through the sand and the boat swung around until it caught on the beam anchor. Fun. So we pulled all the anchors up and moved to a slightly deeper spot in the sound. We couldn’t leave until the next morning because the tide was down, so we had to make the best of it. I tandem anchored our two Danforths off the bow, and set our solid Rocna primary anchor at 45^o off of the bow to hold us against the stupid current. That held overnight. I know because I was up every hour checking the holding. The next morning we spat over the rails and made derogatory remarks about Joe’s Sound’s mother as we exited the narrow cut.

Back in Calabash Bay, the little bit of roll didn’t seem quite so bad compared with the current we’d been battling. We put the dinghy down and ran out into the deep to spearfish. A beautiful finger of coral and rock ran into the sea. We anchored and snorkeled on it in about twenty feet of water. After a few hours we came back with two lobsters and a couple of fish! Being Christmas Eve we made a lobster dinner with some fancy drinks that Chelsea brought fixins for. Stayed up playing games and enjoying the evening. Our multi-colored LED Christmas wreath kept the holiday cheer along with the playlist of Christmas tunes that were played several times over the couple of days. Then we “Sleep(ed) in heavenly peace. Slee-EEEEp(ed) in heeeeeavenly peace.”

In the morning we made lobster eggs benedict and had coffee with real cream! After scarfing breakfast we set in to make a Swedish tea ring to top it off! Ate our faces off, lounged around a bit, then swam to shore from the boat for a Christmas stroll on the long beach.

Back at the boat later in the afternoon we made Polish mushroom soup, broke Oplatec, and had some more fancy Christmas drinks. The ‘Ancient Mariners’ are grapefruit juice, rum, and an allspice dram that Chelsea made. Sat out on the deck and enjoyed our new solar Christmas lights! Thanks Mom!

On the 26^th we pulled anchor and sailed from Calabash to Stella Maris, navigating the broad shallow bay’s narrow channel slowly. Found the only spot deep enough to anchor just outside the marina and plopped ourselves in the middle of it. Not like there was any competition for space. Went in to the marina and walked aimlessly down the coast road. A pickup picked us up and drove us to the only open store. Possibly the only store on the island? We bought snacks and beer and walked back. Not much going on in Stella Maris. Not much going on at all.

And then we said goodbye to Chelsea the next day. Drove her in to the empty marina in the dinghy trying not to soak her clean traveling duds and backpack. Really fun to have her here for Christmas! Thanks Chelsea for coming down to see our floating digs! Christmas wouldn’t have been the same without you!

George Town, Great Exuma

17. Dec. 2014
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The Bahamas
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5 Comments

Author: Miranda

Setting sail for George Town means you have to leave the protective leeward shadow of the Exuma island chain, and head out on the big ocean. The Exumas certainly spoil all the hordes of sailors that flock there by offering endless protected anchorages along their western side, all with plenty of beautiful sights to see and explore. You could spend months just playing around this cruiser’s paradise, and, deep down, I wish we could have lingered longer. Luckily, they are a hop, skip, and a jump from the U.S., so we can always return.

Plus it was time to head to George Town to pick up my baby brother, Casey, our first visitor aboard Tayrona since leaving Florida. I was stoked! Mostly, we’ve been hopping from one project to the next since we bought the boat, and having Casey aboard meant we could finally take a break and truly enjoy our boat and our surroundings for a while. But even more than that, I couldn’t wait to spend time with my brother and feel that whole and grounded feel that only comes from being around family.

Choosing when and where to jump out into the east side of the Exumas is nothing to scoff at, so we waited until we had the most favorable wind conditions, and headed out of Rudder Cut at slack tide. This also happened to be the exact same day that Casey was flying in. Nothing like cutting it close. So, while he was navigating airports and flying down, we were navigating the 40-mile jump down to Georgetown. The winds were light, but our timing was perfect. Just as we jumped out of the dingy at our meeting spot, his cab was pulling up. If the rest of his trip turned out this serendipitously, we were in for a good time.

We got back to the boat and promptly had a celebratory Busch Light and then put Casey to work. Just a quick job- help me winch Pete up the mast so that we can measure our sail area for our new main. It was easy, and then it was back to relaxing.

The following day we set out to explore a few different anchorages, especially those closer to some coral heads that would offer us a spot to take Casey snorkeling and spearfishing. We sailed, snorkeled, had sundown drinks, played games and then hit repeat the following day- with a little beach-time thrown in for good measure.

On our tour of George Town anchorages, our last stop was at Red Shanks, which is a wonderfully protected little hole affectionately called the “litter box” because only the “cats” can get in due to their shallow draft. I think we shaved off a few years of my life on the way in (the depth finder hit 0.8 meters, and we ground at 0.7), but the calm waters and great beaches made it worth the mild aortic stress I suffered. Our buddies threw a bonfire on a stretch beach that Brian referred to as the “country club” attempting to trick us into believing there were tennis courts, spas, and floofy drinks with umbrellas in them. We had a blast despite his tomfoolery, and Casey fit in well with our retired but hip cruising buddies.

We headed back to the popular anchorage outside the Chat and Chill, where we found plenty of time to play in the daily volleyball game, swim, and even hit up our first rake and scrape- the typical Bahamian ho-down where live music is generated from a wide assortment of what you might loosely call musical instruments that do plenty of, you guessed it, “raking” and “scraping” using saws, screwdrivers, and cheese graters.

And then it was time to get off the boat for a day, so we found escape in the form of scooters! We rented two scooters from the owner of the local electronics store (yup- that’s how they roll here in the Bahamas), and tooled around the island, making it all the way from the northern-most tip to the southern. We soon realized that much of the island looks pretty much the same as the next, but it’s quite impossible to not have a good time zooming around curvy island roads with the power 150 CCs between your legs. A good time was definitely had by all despite the spats of mild panic due to driving on the wrong side of the road. Thank you British colonialism! So remember- stay left!

We stopped at an adorable place for lunch, where we all sampled cracked conch. Which was quite tasty, despite its venereal disease sounding name. “Cracked” simply means breaded and deep-fried, and conch (the meat from the pink conch shells) has a slightly escargot flavor, which makes sense given that it’s basically a big, ocean-going snail.

Back on the boat, we spent a few days on a quest to reel in some big, deep-water fish. I was dying to send Casey home with a picture of him posing with some beautiful mahi mahi or wahoo that he fought to bring in from the depths of the sea. The boys bought some fancy new lures in town, set up the trolling rods, and we were off.

First we tried things out from the dinghy.

And, we caught two barracuda. Casey nabbed the first…

…and Pete reeled in the second.

They look like they’d give many meals of tasty meat, but unfortunately that same meat could be laced with ciguatera poisoning, which accumulates in their bodies after years of eating small reef fish who, previously fed on the poisonous reef. So, no eating barracuda in the Bahamas, and, therefore, these two ugly mugs were thrown back. Well. Pete stayed on the boat. You know what I mean.

The fact that we caught barracuda, a shallow reef predator, meant that we weren’t out far enough in the deep to get the mahis or wahoo that we were after. It also meant that fishing in the dinghy wasn’t going to cut it. So, we tried again the following day, taking out the big boat instead.

The only thing we all caught was a bout of seasickness, and poor Casey was subjugated to lentil burgers for dinner instead of fresh fish. After a few a glasses of rum punch each, we all felt much better and no one minded that our protein came from a plant instead of the sea.

Casey’s last few days included a hike to explore Lee Stocking island, drinks with our Canadian buddies, a few more nights out on the town (you can never have just one rake and scrape), and a very fruitful day spearfishing with an Oregonian friend who showed Pete and Casey his favorite spots in the area.

How lucky am I to have family members who so generously share their vacation time with me, on my boat, in the Caribbean, with my wonderful husband, and are such fun while they are here that I’d wish they’d stay for months instead of weeks. I’m so grateful that I could share a piece of this little adventure with my adorable brother. A big sister is allowed to be gushy sometimes, so, Casey, you gotta know it meant the world to me to show you around our boat, around the town, and around this crazy, new life called sailing.