Sailing the Shallow banks of the Bahamas will be on of the new experiences of sailing the islands and most memorable of this voyage. Arriving, what seems a month ago, at Cat Cay, leaving the deep blue water of the Florida straits and into the crystal clear azure waters of the Grand Bank was beginning of my Bahamas cruise. The dark night crossing ends with the dawn light and the sighting of fuzzy greenery on the horizon. Shortly after that the depth sounder suddenly "finds the bottom" gradually rising to a depth where the sea fans, coral and rocks of the banks become visible as if they were right beneath the surface. A Chesapeake based diver friend of mine would say this is where Potomac River divers are ruined, never to accept the cold murky silt laden waters as the norm. Sailing in these waters can only be compared to flying , as if just 10 feet off the ground; the distortion of the waves and the Natie M's wake belying the surface of the water. Give the shimmering distortion of the bottom. The next morning from a peaceful anchorage 4 miles onto the bank, the Natie M sailed under silver waters under the glow of a silver ring surrounding the full moon, I could easily make out the sea fans and grasses on the bottom. Though still weary from the crossing, I was mesmerized at the alien beauty of the night sail across the bank on my way to the Northwest Channel where once again the bottom would fall away into the abyss. I spent the following hours, staring at the sky and sea in a cool twilight reflecting of the bottom as it passed my keel. I've always loved night sailing, both for the winds that one finds after a hot windless day, but this was a whole other level.
Now today I have finally escaped what my impatience with the squally weather of the past week in the Nassau harbor anchorage, which seemed interminable at times. My early morning departure, just as the sky was beginning to lighten, was in hopes of beating the exodus of like minded cruisers who all had, like me, made their intentions for escape from New Providence Island at every encounter at the Green Parrot Bar.
The Natie M. had no sooner made Porgee Rocks just outside Nassau and the waypoint to destinations east, when the increasing radio chatter foretold the stowing of gear, firing of motors and raising of sails of the thirty or so cruisers also wishing to take advantage of this ''window" forecast. Once set on course I dozed and read under the partly sunny skies with variable winds. As I loathe relying on the motor to make the schedule that I am not supposed to have for this trip, the variable winds moved me along the course under full main and genoa to Allens Cay the first stop in the Exumas chain. Soon however I noticed the horizon steadily fill with the white spikes of my fellow cruisers. As is usual with my 'little blue boat' the larger sailboats gradually gained on me and passed in company with the trawlers of other power boats. As I was sure of making both my primary destination and the back up anchorage, I sailed on in the gradually freshening breeze, occasionally running the motor in idle to give the auto pilot help and charge the batteries. By the half way point across the Exumas Bank most of the Nassau fleet had passed me or were right on my heels. Oh well, I felt that most of those boats would be limited in where they could anchor by their substantial draft, the Natie M. being able to squeeze into some shallow or 'thin' spots I knew by the charts existed in Allen's Key. One of the boats that passed, a catamaran, whose captain I had befriended eventually was able to make the small Allens Cay anchorage an hour previous to my arrival, reported on the radio that it was rapidly filling up and that he was going to proceed onto the next big island in the chain, Highborne Cay.
Deciding the same, I changed course 15 degrees further south and arrived there 3:30 in the afternoon, just in time to entertain the crews of 3 other boats who I had met in Nassau who motored over in their tenders. For once I was glad for the large cockpit of the corvette, lots of leg room! After drinks and as the sun set my new friends headed back to their respective vessels.
January 23, 2009
Up early to discover I was still in the same spot I had dropped the anchor, always nice. My friends from "Breeze Hunter" dinghied over to Allens Cay to visit the resident iguanas, picking me up on the way. Specie of iguana that is indigenous to the Bahamas but like everything else that tastes good with the right sauce, have been hunted out in many of their range. Anyway, they slowly emerged from the scrubby undergrowth that dominates the rocky island to feed on the lettuce that some of the cruisers had brought for the purpose. We walked the island, and as I had straggled behind the crowd I noticed that the iguanas were a bit friendlier. Was able to crawl on my belly right up to a big male who I think thought me a competitor, either that or part of that day's menu? He made a big display and started to move towards my face, perhaps mistaking me for a head of cabbage.
After our sojourn at the neighboring Allens Cay, we headed back to the Highborne anchorage to prepare to leave for Normans Cay. This is the island made famous by the notorious Carlos Lederer, who practically single handedly, some locals say with the help of the CIA in their war against the Sandinistas, created the massive destruction of many human lives, with the massive distribution of cocaine in the form of crack. The island with the help of the Bahamian government was sold to Lederer as a distribution hub for cocaine coming out of Columbia. As Mr. Lederer is now out of business and currently enjoying of the hospitality of the US federal penitentiary system, the island has taken on a more sedentary atmosphere, only the occasional ruins and airstrip along with the sunken DC-3 bears witness to this part of Normans history. All that's left is a runway, a sunken drug smuggling plane and some ruins, along with some private homes. At the end of the runway (literally) is a great restaurant with rental cottages and the well known McDuffs Restaurant and bar. The owner, Stephan Paton is 7th generation Bahamian and grew up in the Exumas. He was a great host and great conversationalist who filled everybody in on the local history in which his family played no small part, being the owners prior to the arrival of the drug lord. (www.ncbcmacduffs.com)
January 24, 2009
I listened to the radio chatter for those vessels planning to head to Roderick Wells and the Exumas Land and Sea Park. Thinking I would spend the day over on the harbor side of the Normans rather than join the pack I spent a leisurely morning. Later on I raised anchor and motored around the sand bar at the south end of the cay and entered the inlet. I was interested in seeing the drug smuggling plane that crashed in the shallows on the south side of Normans and also to check out the Chesapeake oyster buy boat that I was told the night before at McDuffs was tied up there at the dilapidated and abandoned Normans Yacht Club. McDuffs Restaurant and Bar gets a lot of its supplies from this boat. As I approached the cut which forms the inlet to the Exumas sound and the Atlantic I encountered the buy boat heading in the opposite direction. It was indeed a Chesapeake buy boat and upon hailing the captain got a history of the boat. I hope I run into them again. A rare vessel, especially in these waters, as most have been abandoned to rot away on some mudflat on the Smith islands or some estuary on the Chesapeake Bay. It is from a forgone era, where these small freighters would meet up with the famous skipjacks and take on their catch of oysters to transport to market. This allowed the Skipjacks to stay on the oyster bars and continue dredging. With the demise of the oysters so came the demise of these historic vessels. This particular buy boat had escaped such a fate by finding another way to make its way by shipping small freight to the out islands of the Exumas where regular freight service did not exist. This small niche was enough to keep this vessel alive. The vessel is named the Yam crow.
I anchored in the lee of south Normans and took the dinghy over to inspect the awash wreckage of the drug plane at the edge of the shallows. I brought along my mask and snorkel along with the spear gun hoping for some fresh dinner. The plane was in remarkable shape considering that it had been exposed to the salt water and waves for almost 30 years. It was a DC-3, and as any historic plane enthusiast would attest, a plane with a proud and wonderful history. Not many exist anymore but the fact that the airframe goes back to the thirties and there still are a few in service, is testimony to this proud aircraft. This particular airplane though is done. Though the wings and fuselage and even the props can be easily discerned in the clear water. It's now a small little reef system complete with corals and numerous reef fishes calling it home in the middle of sand flats. I snorkeled the wreak and though it was populated with many good size snapper, they were clearly on to me and my intentions to make one of them a meal. Even my attempts to drop a hook were in vain. Anchored nearby in the harbor, but with the rolling of the northeast swells coming in from the Atlantic didn't get the best rest. I also dinghied over to the Normans yacht club, built by Carlos Lederer, now overgrown and dilapidated. I walked the ruins, with its extensive stone work camouflaged within the overgrowth. Several of the buildings still stand and I could walk through the remains of the dining area, kitchen and guest houses still standing.
January 25, 2009
After my daily regimen of up at dawn to catch the shortwave weather broadcast, decided to head to a more sheltered spot on the next major Cay. This would bring me within the park boundaries where any sort to of fishing is strictly prohibited. Not only do they fine you they take your boat. I can understand such draconian measure when seeing and hearing of the overfishing that is occurring elsewhere in the Bahamas, for that matter, practically everywhere. I had delayed my entry into the park in the hopes of honing my fishing skills. That is apparently not going to happen anytime soon, so here I am. I set my anchor before noon at Shroud Cay at a location known as Freshwater harbor interspersed among the sharp limestone rocks of the shore was a small white sand beach where I landed my dinghy. This spot is the location of a fresh water well. I hiked up the small hill, following a trail through the bushes and came upon a plateau area no more than 30 feet above sea level. The limestone here like everywhere in the Exumas is extremely eroded, with cracks, holes and very sharp edges. In the middle of this moonscape was a low circular brick wall surrounding the well around 12 feet in diameter. Though clear with a slight sepia tint, I could not discern the bottom. At the surface little fish swam. This well has been on charts going back to the 18th century. I paused to think of the sailors that had stopped here over the centuries to replenish their ships water supplies. Like many spots on these islands, you can find indications of mans passing, some of these pre European.
Another spot I wanted to check out was the famous Camp Driftwood. Shroud Cay is mostly mangroves in the interior bisected by small tidal creeks. I motored in the dinghy up to the north creek and headed inland. Small islets and mangroves passed to either side as I followed the meandering creek through the island. After about a hour of this I was beginning to wonder where I was. Suddenly as I came around a horseshoe bend in the creek I was met with a stunning view of the creek empting, or in this case due to the tide, filling with the tide. To either side were small hills and then this bright white sand beach. Beaching the dinghy on the north shore, I walked along the beach. Camp Driftwood was created by a hermit sailor who carved steps into the limestone, cleared the dense brush, and constructed a small cairn and what I can only describe as a totem pole at the top. It is said that he even hauled beach sand in a sail bag to fill in the numerous crags and holes in the rock that forms the path up the hill. Every successive visiting cruiser would bring a shell, piece of driftwood, or piece of flotsam. Arriving at the top of the hill, maybe 40 feet above the beach, I encountered a totem like structure which main feature was a 4 foot tall skeleton made of red plastic. Shells and other flotsam also were placed around, obviously with a lot of thought and care. I left a shell as an offering and gazed around at the incredible view of the "semi pristine" (I'll get to that later) beach that stretched north and south. Looking to the interior I could barely make out the mast of the Natie M. on the opposite shore.
Ok, now for the rant. It has occurred to me over the years what a complete mess we've made of the planet. I don't exclude myself, now writing this aboard a big plastic boat. This is no more glaringly apparent in the supposed remote and secluded beaches that I have been visiting the past couple of weeks. Everywhere you walk, as in the beach I was talking about above, the jetsam of our lifestyle litter the beach. You can not walk more than 5 feet without seeing a milk cart, mylar balloon, water bottle, fishing net, lawn chair, oil container, bucket, plastic shopping bag, drift net, plastic fork (and this is just a partial inventory of this beach) interspersed with the seaweed and shells. This excrement of our society of throw away convenience and gluttony is pervasive and apparently is not going away. I mean its not disappearing as many of us would hope it would, just piling up just out of sight of your backyard. Just on this excursion alone, I recovered a perfectly good sponge (synthetic) and a milk crate that now holds the dinghy anchor, but the rest of it is eroded and broken remains of the petrochemical crap we've surrounded and convinced ourselves we can't live without. I hope everyone realizes that when they go to their favorite vacation beach, Ocean City, Virginia Beach, Florida, whatever, they realize these artificial beaches, pristine in their imported sand and daily raked and cleaned of the same crap that floats up and deposits everywhere else there is not a parking lot adjoining or a boardwalk. You can't get away from it. Of course as we live our lives in our air conditioning, shopping malls and the disneyfied false reality, we don't have to think of the incredible abuse that we have wrought upon the very source of our existence, the sea. In all the oceans, Pacific, Atlantic, Indian there exists vast floating islands of plastic trash, some the size of the state of Texas which can actually be detected from space. Those pieces of plastic are not degrading, just getting broken up into smaller and smaller pieces of plastic. Some studies have found that plastic can be found in zooplankton and are being taken up in the food chain. If we're not heading full speed towards a brick wall, I don't know what's ahead. Good luck to us all, we're gonna need it, cause we are killing the oceans and when they go….
January 26, 2009
Left Shroud Cay and headed south, originally planning on finding a secluded anchorage a little ways south, I radioed in to Warderick Wells and reserved a mooring. The sail was a beam reach most of the way and for awhile there I was worried that my inflatable dinghy was going to turn into a kite, along with its outboard, we were going so fast with a 20 kt wind on our bow quarter. I believe I was averaging 6 ½ knots most of the way. South of Hawksbill Cay you enter an area where other than a few small rocky islets and sandbars there is nothing between you and Africa. With the 20kts of North east wind that adds up to a lot of waves, big roller waves. It was quite a thrilling sail and a handful. Cleared the final bank and turned into the wind and aforementioned waves and was forced to motor the 4 miles into the Emerald Rock anchorage on Warderick Wells. Arrived around 2 pm and had time to dinghy into the park office where I met Judy who checked me in. I inquired about volunteering for work and she informed me to just show up at 9 am the next morning. As normally when I go ashore I just wander around, I might as well do something while I do it and I felt that I would get a different perspective of the place than otherwise just wandering around by myself and at the same time contribute to the park, not to mention a free nights mooring. Before dark I managed to get in a trail to the Davis plantation, which is not much more than a pile of rocks with some mortar attached here and there. The plantation I am informed was one of the several "loyalist" plantations by British subjects of the newly fledged US of A who wished to stay that way. Many of these people chose or where forced to leave the US and settle in the Exumas. Upon visiting these loyalist ruins, as they are called, one is amazed first of all that such a are could have been considered a plantation in the traditional sense, and second, you cannot feel a tad bit sympathetic when you see the dense growth and inhospitable terrain of these islands. Everywhere is limestone rock, and along the shoreline its forms razor sharp edges, akin to the coral that grows along the shoreline. In the highland areas, I mean 20-30 above sea level, limestone rocks protrude out of the soil everywhere. This place makes West Virginia, where I hail, look like the great plains. How could someone grow anything along the line of traditional agriculture in such an environment? Most of the ruins were the remains of rock walls made of the same limestone and the mortar used was made from the incineration of the conch shells that were abundant in the shallows near by. What a life it must have been compared to the spacious lawns and fields of what we typically think of the 'antebellum' lifestyle. One explanation of how these plantations made a go of it is that one of the early exports of the early colonist of the Exumas was hardwood logs. It is believed that many of these islands had large stands of tropical hardwood trees in the interior, which of course means topsoil. With the settlement of these out islands of the Bahamas chain came the harvesting of these large stand of hardwood trees both for export and to create the fields necessary to till the earth. Same story as elsewhere on the planet, clear cut the old growth trees, plant cotton or some other crop which involves extensive tilling, and big storm comes, see you later topsoil.
January 27, 2009
Up early with a little bit of a hangover drinking rum to the sun as it slipped over the horizon. Arrived at the park headquarters to meat Andrew and Tom who coordinate the volunteers and is the head warden at the park respectively. After some introductions to the other volunteers, a very nice Welsh couple, we piled into a flat bottom fiberglass skiff, loaded with trash barrels and bags, chain saw and some other maintenance equipment. Once we cleared the mooring harbor of Warderick, Andrew gunned the big outboard and we took off, north to Hawksbeake Cay to pick up the aforementioned plastic jetsam and do some exotic specie control. Working the west side of the Cay we quickly accumulated a couple of large trash bags full of the aforementioned plastic crap and with the Toms skill ministrations of chainsaw eradicated several Australian Pine trees which I quickly learned are one of Tom's arch nemeses. Australian Pine or Casuarinas were introduced in Nassau to provide "shade" after removing the native trees alongside the tourist beaches. Now they have spread, no natural controls, and given the opportunity the causerie will take over the island, smothering out all the native plants with their pine needles, but they do look nice and make a nice swishing noise when the wind blows.
January 28, 2009
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