Room with a View

Smithton Jailhouse- photo taken through ruin of Smithton jailhouse. Never did find out the significance of the ruin but it was at a cool spot during my bike excursion on Great Exuma. Stocking island- view from monument rock Stocking Island, Elizabeth Harbor Whistling ducks- The famous, endangered, quackless West Indian Whistling Ducks (Dendrocygna arborea) on Long Island. For more info on the species population go to see the Audubon Watch List Site by clicking Whistling Ducks.

Racing & Rocks

Race boats Barraterre - took this shot of two of the race boats anchored off Barraterre. They both competed in the Little Farmers Cay regatta the day I sailed. Sea Cave, Long Island - One of the most beautiful sea caves along the white cliffs of Newtons Cay.

Up the Mast

Natiem mast Joe's harbor - The view from up top. Notice the Gatorade blue water! Old Bridge mangrove trail Long Island - this bridge connects to the northern most section of the island. It is in severe failure mode, but as no one lives up there anyway, they never fixed it.

Mangrove Trail

Mangrove trail, Long island - Typical view of the shallow mangrove estuary between Newtown Cay and Long Island.

Mid-Rocks Passage -This photo does not do the justice of the immense waves and break that I encountered leaving Great Exuma, but its close.

Farmers Cay Regatta Photo

A friend took this picture at the end of a day of racing on Little Farmers Cay. I was so stoked!

Barraterre Boatyard

Barraterre Boatyard - This boat yard is the origin of many of the local race boats including the ones in the other picture named 'bull reg' and 'fugitive'. The boats pictured here are I believe class B Bahamian sloops. Blow Hole, Long Island - One of the numerous blow hole formations on the white cliffs on the north side of Newton Cay.

Log of Natie M. - Long Island

2/18/09

N23 30.241' W75 445.880'

Last day at Great Exumas

Just finishing writing in the log when the hail "Natie M!" came down the companionway. A cruising friend from early on in my trip down the ICW was alongside in her dinghy. It was Patti from the Pearson yawl "Lutra" which was now anchored 50 meters away. You will recall she was the dolphin scientist who not only saved the Natie M. from an ignoble grounding near Ponce Inlet, but gave me the insight to my near dolphin experience that I wrote about earlier. We did a quick catch up and agreed to touch base later on in the day. As I was a little undecided as to my next destination and was anxious to bid farewell to Georgetown, now that I was refueled and having had received the surfboard parts that I had been waiting on, had decided to return to Stocking Island across Elizabeth Bay. Patti invited Natie M. to cruise along with Lutra to Long Island the next day. I had heard so much about Long island and was easily persuaded. One of the more well known and regarded of what are called the family islands, named in reference to the original families dating back to early colonial and slave times that are still in residence there. Patti also described what sounded like a wonderful and very secluded anchorage at the north end of the island where a friend lived on his houseboat. Sounds good to me.

That afternoon as per my original plans I moved the Natie M. back over to the anchorage that I spent the first night in Elizabeth harbor. I wanted to say good by to some other friends on "Sun Suite "and "Opus" who had been camped out there for a couple of weeks. When I anchored there in the afternoon I hiked up the monument hill. It was a bit of a scramble up the steep slope with a lot of sand and loose rock. I was glad that I was alone as almost every step sent a small avalanche of rock down the slope. It was a quick climb though and once on top was rewarded with a spectacular view. On the Harbor side I could see the several anchorages along the shore, each with many boats, but on the sound side the view was one of waves and spray on the rocky shore. There was a substantial reef break too with monster waves. I was beginning to think that I had been anchored on the wrong island in Elizabeth Bay.

When upon returning to the dinghy, I motored south along the shore over to the beach club where many cruisers where hanging out on the beach and at the volley ball courts for the days play. Kids were running around and the adults lounged under the casuarinas and palms or played volley ball. The tiki bar was serving fresh conch and fish on a BBQ along with cold drinks. It was like a little cruiser Bali Hi! I made contact with my friends and told them I was moving on and bid them farewell. I have made so many friends on this trip. I think the cruiser lifestyle makes one more susceptible to making quick and close relationships as people drop their usual reservations at opening up when shore bound. The pervasive bon homi of sailors leads to mutual acceptance and friendships. Or maybe it's just the music and beer.

As sunset came I left the festivities and headed back to the boat. A brief radio exchange with Lutra to confirm plans and I set to making ready to sail in the morning.

2/19/09

At 0600 the anchor was up and Natie M. was underway. As for the past couple of days there had been a stiff breeze blowing out of the E-NE and we were expecting there to be a little bit of a swell. As I passed by Kidde Harbor I could see Lutra raising her main and getting underway also. To get out of Elizabeth Harbor requires not so much complicated but specific maneuvering to navigate the coral and small cays that mark the southern exit. I had programmed my handheld gps the night before with 5 waypoints just to make the 6 miles to the sound. It was easy going with the markers at some of the coral pinch points in the course. Having negotiated these and following a meandering path through a maze of smaller rock cays, and moving closer to the open ocean I began to encounter a slight swell which soon grew into some substantial waves on the bow. I would estimate that as I approached the last couple of waypoints I was running into some 8-10 foot seas. The view was amazing and scary as the Natie M. pitched and yawed through the waves and currents of the cut with 15 foot waves no more than a quarter mile away bashing away at the rocks and on the numerous reefs. Though taken back at the beautiful scenery, I must admit to a little concern as to a 15 mile passage in these kind of seas, but with the company of Lutra and a couple of larger sail boats also heading out the cut, I pressed on, though I quickly learned which of the cookware and books that were not properly stored below.

Once getting into the deep water and with getting the sails trimmed and proper course set the Natie M. flew! It was a rocking and rolling run but I gradually worked her up 6 ½ knots on a close reach. It was a thrilling sail. Captain Patti, on Lutra, and me conversed on the VHF and it soon turned into a race. Half way across we drew together to take pictures and Patti later provided for me some of the best photos, nay best photos ever, of the Natie M. under full sail. It was also a pleasure to sail alongside a classic Pearson Yawl and I also took numerous photos too. I asked Patti to describe the color of the water as it transformed from one incredible hue of blue to anther with depth change. I have always struggled in the course of this log to come up with the words to describe the amazing color of the waters here. Two of the best descriptive words we came up with were 'deep sapphire' to describe the color of the deep water of the Exumas Sound. Another one, probably not to be found in some seafaring epic, was 'Gatorade Blue' to describe the color of the shallower coastal waters.

It was just around 1330 that we approached Joes Sound and carefully approached the cut. There were numerous coral heads and the Natie M. was spared a scrape when Lutra called back to warn of an especially shallow one. One cannot afford to take your eyes off the bow when navigating this close to shore! Approaching the cut into the small harbor just inside Galliot Cay at the north end of Long Island, we both hesitated as we surveyed the little channel the lead inland. I say little and I mean 12 feet wide and at parts. The total length was not more than 75 feet but with rocks and coral and current to boot. Our luck would have it also being close to low tide. I volunteered to go first as I had the shallower draft, and with my heart in my throat zipped through with a couple of feet or more under the keel. The entrance was almost as exciting as the sail across! It added a little bit of drama to see what appeared to be a caste iron keel lying just inside the cut on the rocks, a remnant of an earlier failed attempt at this cut. Once clear of the inlet it led to a narrow channel with 8-10 feet of water with a large sand flat forming with the tide alongside. The small peninsula that formed the barrier with the open ocean was dotted with palms and trees and a couple of structures. To the east it was a half mile of exposed tidal flat of white sand dotted with some mangroves. A few other boats were already anchored and Patti's friend's houseboat was moored just a little ways further up the channel. Lutra also made it easily into the inlet and soon Natie M. was securely anchored in the sandy bottom. Once thing that is nice in sailing the Bahamas is that all you have to do to see if your anchor is set is look over the side.

After some house keeping and lunch I was pleasantly surprised to see another friend from the sloop "Daisy" row in scouting the cut. They too soon joined us in this secluded anchorage. This young couple from Maine has taken their 1969 vintage boat, after restoring her, on their own epic voyage. Some of the nicest people I have met, I was happy to run into them again. Patti came alongside too and shortly thereafter I made the acquaintance of Captain Patrick Harris. Pat restored a 72 foot Herreshoff sloop which he runs day charters in New York City (www.sailnewyork.com). Not only did he restore not such a small piece of yachting history but he works the boat in a profitable way assuring its preservation and maintenance. Of course in the winter months he lives here on Long Island. Nice way to make a living. An extremely likable chap, he invited the crews of the Natie M., Lutra and Daisy for evening cocktails to watch the sunset on the roof, or rather, top deck of the house boat.

We all regrouped after securing some driftwood for the fireplace on the roof (yes there was a clay fire oven on the top of the houseboat) and soon we were talking and laughing over rum drinks furnished by Patrick's capable blender. With sunset, the sky quickly darkened and the complete panoply of the universe spread out above. Patrick was extremely knowledgeable of the stars and soon had everyone pointing at the sky. The conversation and humor was lubricated not in the least by the two bottles of rum that soon were emptied. We returned to our boats laughing and feeling great and by 11 I was fast asleep in my berth looking forward to whatever the light would bring in the morning.

2/20/09

N23 37.038' W75 20.579'

Patti came alongside in the morning and invited me to come with her and Pat on an expedition of snorkeling and exploring the north coast of Long Island. Accepting immediately this opportunity to get a guided tour of the more remote parts of the island I packed my gear and lunch and was picked up by Pat around 0900. We took off in his go-fast dinghy, heading out the cut and north along the shore. We passed Elizabeth Taylors house (no she was there to show me her diamonds and Oscars) and as the shoreline quickly was dominated by rocky cliffs we approached one that rose prominently with the local monument to Columbus on top. The usual phallic tribute, needless to say it wasn't constructed by the remaining Awaraks or Lucaya Indians (if there are any remaining that is). Just around the head of the promontory was another small inlet similar to the one at Joe's Sound, but with the exception of rather a significant break at the entrance. Clearly there was some significant reef and rock formations at the entrance. With some trepidation on the part of Patti and me, but with complete confidence in Pat's piloting, we alternately surged and maneuvered with the waves and outboard through the rock and coral maze. On the inside the water quickly calmed down and we found ourselves motoring up a shallow and wide estuary that formed the division between Long Island proper and the Newton Cay and Cape Santa Maria. We were able to motor up the river which formed large sand flats and small inland bays bordered by red mangroves. Occasionally we would have to jump out to walk the dinghy to negotiate the shallows. The bottom was mostly sand with some rock, fortunately for me as I neglected to bring shoes. The mangroves soon closed in and we found ourselves in a narrow maze of mangroves with only a blue house on a distant hill to provide a marker for navigation. As this mangrove estuary straddles the entire cay the current switched and we found ourselves sailing with the current to shore as the tide continued to ebb. The mangroves were teaming with baby fish, mangroves being the nursery of the ocean, which darted to the safety of the tangled mangrove roots. On the bottom was littered with anemone type animals, of varying sizes 2-5 inches in diameter and flat in structure. Their edges fringed with pulsating tentacles and coming in an assortment of colors from a bronze to a cobalt blue. We rounded a bend to encounter a middle aged local couple poling their aluminum flat hulled boat up the creek. They were dressed very nicely, the woman in a colored blouse and dress, and the man in a jacket and long pants. I was somewhat incongruous encounter the three sailors in an inflatable dinghy with noisy outboard and the silent and graceful pole boat passing in the mangrove jungle. After a short while we passed the Seymours settlement and emerged into a wide shallow bay where some believe Columbus once anchored. This would be our first snorkeling spot and Patti and I were soon in the water at Pat's direction seeking conch in the bottom among densely planted in turtle grass. It was a short swim before we spotted numerous conch, unfortunately of immature size, but nevertheless a shell close to 8 inches in length, a hefty snail! We moved to the narrow outlet to the open ocean and the turtle grass quickly gave way to coral and rocky outcrops in 8-10 foot waves. Having traded my conch mesh bag for my spear I went seeking my first kill. The coral was extensive and there were even some Elk Horn coral formations. Though teaming with jacks and snapper and even spotting a large black grouper I was once again skunked at providing a meal for us. Pat tells me that black grouper are especially difficult to catch, whereas Nassau grouper practically beg you to eat them. Its probably why they are declining specie in the Bahamas having only recently been the target of conservation laws. Pat remained during this in the dinghy shepherding us around and keeping an eye out for sharks which frequent this area. We boarded the dinghy and motored north to begin our tour of the offshore reefs at Newtons Cay.

Arriving at a rather large reef about 200 yards offshore we dived once again. I was immediately struck with the difference in this reef, both in size and diversity. The coral formations were immense, forming large crevasses between and down to the white sand bottom at 25 or so feet. In addition, there were massive Elk Horn Coral formations the size of a truck. They are like large trees, only instead of ending in little branches, the size at the ends remains as large in diameter at the end as at the trunk. Where they break off, presumably from storm and waves, they form tangled piles of coral 'logs'. It was breathtaking. With the current you were able to dive quickly to the bottom and let it carry you through, below and above the formations. The sensation is as if you are flying through the trees. Sea fans, brightly colored in purple and amber, waved in the current, with schools of fish and brightly colored small reef fish everywhere. The water was crystal clear, with visibility easily 100 feet. We spent probably no more than 30-40 minutes in the water before the cool temperatures forced us out, but every second was burned into my memory. It was so beautiful that I did not even think to spearing anything here, not wanting to diminish it in any way. What a wonderful spot. Thank you Pat!

We continued our exploration of the point, rounding the tip after checking out some other reefs though impressive, barely compared to the one described above. Coming into the shoreline area known as the white cliffs, waves crashed and tossed our dinghy as we maneuvered along the shore, careful of the surge which could easily dash us to bits. The cliffs were all undercut from the waves and also formed several caves and even some blow holes. Very dramatic scenery with some rock formations almost snow white sandstone and frozen in the shape of a windswept sand dune. One cave had a 'skylight' which lit the interior to expose the eroded stone wall and a small white sand beach. Unfortunately, the tidal surge made any sort of close inspection extremely hazardous. Pat made a thrilling close pass before expertly veering off before we were sucked into the cave surge. He's quite the tour guide and even offers charters locally on his Pearson sailboat and even the famous and luxurious houseboat at Joe's sound. Yes, that was an endorsement.

The final stop on our excursion was an encounter with the largest colony of West Indian Whistling Ducks. Yes, these ducks don't quack. They live happily on this small area of the coastline and are considered endangered. They are unusual for ducks, aside from being quack-less, in that they have rather long necks and a beautiful coppery breast.

By 1500 we were back at the anchorage and I decided to tackle the burned out bulb in the anchor light. While up top, dangling 40 feet above the deck and water spotted 3 Eagle Rays swimming in formation and passing slowly by. They are so graceful as they fly through the water, gently 'flapping' their wings.

Just as I was getting ready to prepare dinner, a call from Daisy came over the radio, inviting me over for dinner. Never to turn down someone else's cooking, always better than mine, I accepted and soon joined them in their cockpit, as the sun set recounting our day's events. It was pretty dark, with the stars coming out in their full splendor, when our conversation was suddenly interrupted by the sound of numerous whistling low overhead. As if on cue, we turned to each other and exclaimed "Whistling Ducks!!"

2/21/09

0900

With the tide and the sun high so as to see the sea bottom more easily, Lutra and Natie M. headed south to Salt Pond. With two grocery stores and a marine supply store I was looking forward to some provisioning. I also hoped that I could finally get some access to the internet after a long spell of no communication with family and friends.

The sail was again one of a close reach in 15 knot winds. The waves were not as big this day though and though heeled over, I enjoyed the 20 mile sail down the west coast of Long Island. We arrived at 1330 and anchored near the Long Island Breeze Resort, where Patti was friends with one of the owners, and came ashore to sit on the deck of the restaurant and bar. I have to say it was one of the most beautiful clubs I had yet seen in the Bahamas. (www.longislandbreeze.com) Mike, the mentioned above, was a great host and while I struggled to get the computer hooked up (alas to no avail), we relaxed with cold beers and enjoyed the amazing view of the beautiful harbor of Salt Pond. The bay is so sheltered that you could not tell that it was blowing 15 knots outside, with just a few wavelets rippling across the water. The horizon was dotted with numerous masts of other boats and a few small rocky cays. I returned to the boat before sunset to clean up and make dinner before retiring shortly after dark.

2/22/09

N23 20.179 W75 7.366'

The next day brought the bike onshore for a little ride. As there are only two directions on this island, what the locals refer to as 'down north' and 'up south', I headed south to see what I could see. About 15 miles or so I found the Old Spanish Church which, though still standing, was without a roof. Just some rafters and the woodens shutters still in place. Depending on who you ask, it dates from either the 16th or the 18th century. Most of the concrete plaster was still in place as was the concrete floor and alter, along with the naïve and confessional grotto. Back on the bike I rode to one of the beaches on the Atlantic side. The coastline is very dramatic with many rocky out crops and small cays right off shore. With the strong winds of the previous days, there was a substantial reef break, all a little too intimidating for this novice surfer on his inflatable ULI board. Hope springs eternal though. Again, as with so much of the coastline, the view was marred by tons of plastic refuse.

With this last stop, turned around and headed 'down north' but passed the resort where the dinghy was tied and headed a little further beyond, where I found a little beach side bar and restaurant where I met up with other cruisers, some of which I had met before, that were anchored nearby. With a couple of beers among us we got into an interesting conversation between the US cruisers and the Canadians about the Cuba embargo. It was the general consensus that it was a pretty stupid law, not to mention immoral. I was also amazed to hear about the 'socialized' health care in Canada. These Canadians, all what I would describe as upper middle class judging from the size of their boats, considered their system to be vastly superior to the one, or rather lack of one, in the US. Sort of conflicts with what some of the politicians tell us, not surprisingly considering where they get much of their donations.

Salt Pond, Long Island

N23 20.179 W75 7.366' Lots to write about but having some problems with the computor. I am well (very) and hope everyone is ok too! Mark

Log of the Natie M

2/10/09 Departed early this morning for the first northerly run up to Black Point on Guana Cay. I had bypassed it earlier so as to assure a good anchorage and beat the rush to Little Farmers Cay and the regatta. As it turned out the high winds and cool weather (actually had to break out the long pants and fleece again!) meant for a lean turnout both in cruisers and race boats. Black point was a settlement set up for freed slaves and I was told is a genuine Bahamian village. Having heard that before, I was a little skeptical, the taint of wealthy retired white Americans in their yachts no doubt having made their mark there as elsewhere in the Bahamas. My negative notion was disproved though on my visit. I turned the point into the harbor to the visage of hundreds of vessels in the anchorage. The numerous masts almost forming a haze of sticks that blocked the horizon. I noted a small little harbor just inside the point called Regatta point with only two boats. The depth was a little iffy but recognizing one of the boats as a fellow solo cruiser that I had got to know back at Exumas Park, I stuck my nose in to check it out. Roger called over that this was a good little anchorage with decent shelter from the east wind that was blowing at 20+ kts, so I probed further towards the public park and dock and beach there. I was able to get as close as 150 feet from the shore and still had 8 feet under me. I set the anchor in good sand and got the dinghy deployed. From the boat it was an ideal anchorage, just outside of town and out of the tightly packed sardine can that was the main anchorage. The first thing that needed to be addressed was the very low water supply that I had been dealing with. My main tank was dry and I was living on the occasional refilling of gallon water jugs from municipal hydrants at Farmers for quite awhile. I hauled in some jugs and was able to find a town hydrant, which is basically a yard hydrant attached to schedule 40 pipe coming out of the ground or running along the road at the surface. With all the rock and stone on the cays it must be murder to lay pipe. Anyway, after walking a few minutes down the road, some mothers busy weaving palm fronds directed me to the hydrant and I filled 4 gallons and hauled them back to the boat. I did this 4 more times and was able to build my water supply up to 14 gallons or so. I spent the rest of the day walking the town and visiting with old cruiser friends that I was able to get reacquainted. I noted walking through town the boat yard that H20 was built and talked with several friendly locals. It is a town that, though geared towards servicing visiting cruisers, still had the Bahamian flair. I had been told that it was the center of local fishing in the area, and that many of the poachers that plague the Exumas Park come from this settlement. I assume they look at it as many of the waterman I met on the Chesapeake, that it's their livelihood and that all fish are theirs by birthright. Nevertheless, everyone was extremely friendly whether a vendor or talking with someone along a remote side road. Ended the day at the Scorpio Bar and Restaurant who had a good happy hour with free Wi-Fi. 2/10/09 - Rudder Cay 1500 N23 52.45' W76 14.55' Early up and away, heading once again southwards to Rudder Cay to anchor in a shallow bay at 3 in the afternoon for some snorkeling and hopefully some fresh seafood. Unfortunately all the big fish, and not that many, had other ideas. I took the dinghy over to a nearby cave (pictures on blog) and swam around a bit. Some fish but it was pretty obvious that others had been here before me. My intention is that in the morning I would take the tide out into the Exumas sound to the east and make the 30 or so miles for Elizabeth Harbor on Great Exumas. Nice anchorage with moon light I could make out the starfish that littered the sand below. 2/12/09 With the first light I made for Rudder Cut which would lead me out of the banks and into Exumas Sound. It was very scenic with white cliffs along the numerous small Cays and rock. The boat yawed with the strong tidal current and I kept my hand on the helm while taking numerous bearings on the reefs and rocks that lined the passage. As I have related before, the combination of the narrow cuts with the tides and winds can make for some very dicey passages as you wind your way around the countless obstacles. By 1000 I was out and approaching ledge where the sea bottom in a matter of seconds drops from 60 or so feet down to 2000 plus feet. You can tell by the color from the light turquoise to the deep blue of the deep. Again my attempts at providing protein for myself were in vain. I dragged the trolling line astern for 20 miles and not a nibble unless you count the bushel basket of Sargasso weed I hauled in (anyone know a recipe?). I did have an exciting encounter with a school of Mahi Mahi that where violently broaching the surface apparently tearing into a school of small fish. They would zig zag, leaving wakes of foam and spray and moving at incredible speed. I altered course so as to offer them my lure but as the Natie M. would approach the school, they would sound and then reappear off my beam. I could easily make out the large foreheads of these speed demons of the deep as they cleared the surface. It was very dramatic. Alas not one of them seemed to be interested in my invitation to dinner. It was a close reaches most of the way down with light winds. I was able to supplement my progress with some motoring but barely burned 2 gallons the whole way. By 17:30 I was entering the north passage into Elizabeth harbor. As it was getting dark I anchored over by Stocking Cay, the barrier island for the harbor and soon made contact with another cruiser friend who invited me over for dinner and catch up. Long day, but to end it with drinks and a good meal in a calm harbor is the best medicine. 2/13/09 I motored over to Kidde Harbor which is right on Georgetown, the main town of Great Exumas. Docking initially at the marina there I took on water and gasoline and set the anchor just off town in the harbor. 2/18/09 N23 30.241' W75 45.880' Kidde Harbor, Georgetown, Great Exumas Have been anchored here since the 13th. I've been keeping busy with boat chores and exploration of the island while I wait for some parts for the ULI board and mail from my brother in Florida. On two separate days I loaded the road bike into the dinghy for a ride to the south end of the island on the first day and to the north end two days later. Both bike rides were fun, though I'm a bit out of shape. I had planned on the first south run, a Saturday, to rely on the local stores for fluids. This is always a good way to meet people and learn the local info that makes a foray into the hinterland interesting. I was getting a little dehydrated as every store was closed or shuttered. Maybe it was a holiday. Finally found a place at a small settlement that although closed had a sign which I thought said in essence, go in and if there is something you want, go across the road to the green house. Picking out a much needed cold Gatorade out of the fridge I alternately strolled and gulped my way to the green house across and up a small hill. Arriving just as I finished off the artificial sustenance, I knocked on the door and encountered a rather put out older woman who asked if the sign said help yourself and that she was just about to call the police. I, at first thinking she had to be joking, quickly apologized. It took her a while to realize that I had not looted the store and that my intention was to pay. She was very stern but soon warmed. I noticed that upon observing some passing young girls who had stopped to pick up a stray coconut in her yard, she scolded them for not asking. The girls, having obviously known this grand and powerful woman, quickly and courteously asked for permission. I had to stifle a smile to see the girls so apologetic and polite to their neighbor. One thing I must note is that I have never encountered a child in the Bahamas that was not the most polite and obedient to their parents or other adults, no matter what age. It is deeply ingrained into their culture and much to their credit. The second bike ride was more interesting as I took the queen's highway to the north end and the settlement of Barraterre where several of the boats in the regatta had their homeport and where a noted boat builder was. It was a long ride hot but very scenic. I passed some interesting settlements and several farms. I also passed several of the large resorts complete with golf courses and even lawns. Grass is not something grows easily here. I wondered how they made that much water. Most water supplies on the islands, either private or municipal are Reverse Osmosis based systems. In other words desalinization plants which makes water an extremely valuable and expensive resource. When you consider a distribution system based mostly on plastic pipe, there must be a significant loss to leakage. I don't know for sure but it must be very subsidized by the government. The farms were small and mostly from what I could see, papaya, banana and coconuts. I could see the farmers moving through what seemed to be random plantings with their machetes. After 3 or so hours I made it to Barraterre. It took all of half hour to ride the town and unfortunately once again most everything was closed. I did locate the boatyard and walked around a bit accompanied by the local dog who did not take well to my visit. The local bar and convenience store too was unoccupied as was the Bonefish lodge. Finally I was able get some water from a man's yard who graciously offered after I knocked on his door first. The ride back was long and hot and it was a sore sailor that made it back to the boat at 3 pm. The rest of the time here has been spent on boat chores and provisioning. The later of which has been made especially pleasant with numerous visits to the famous Exumas Markets. This is a small grocery store that caters to the cruiser with the best selection I've seen in awhile. Almost every time I go into port I stop there to browse and always end up purchasing another item or two. On my last visit I pleasantly discovered that my package from the state arrived. Just in time as I had pretty much used up most of the sightseeing options for the island, that is if you exclude eating and drinking which I had pretty much explored to a sufficient extent, much to the detriment of my cruising budget. With the arrival of the parts I can now start monitoring the weather for a window to the next destination, either the Jimentos cays or Long Island. Either destination is remote so may not be in touch for awhile. Mark

OSHA Nightmare

Log of Natie M. - Exumas Land & Sea Park

2/4/09 Departed Exumas Park this morning. The visit here has been memorable. For the past week or so I've been getting up to do breakfast and the weather on the shortwave before dinghying into park headquarters to report to Andrew the volunteer coordinator. Since moving to the northern anchorage it has been a wonderful respite from the winds and rolling waves of the Emerald Rock Anchorage. Even though I've been doing this voyage in little bits, not being able to sleep soundly without rolling side to side or worrying about my anchor or the other guys anchor has frankly been a pain in the butt. Since moving to the very sheltered mooring field I've been able to comfortably sleep every night almost completely unconcerned as to the sea state or weather. The current, though very strong, as most elsewhere in the Exumas, has been of little concern as the Natie M. is firmly moored. Operation Cassaurina has been going well, having chopped and hacked our way south along the beach, eliminating about two thirds of the invasive along the high water line. They are going to have one heck of a bon fire. Sorry I'm going to miss it. We constructed about 12 individual piles of branches and logs, stretched over a quarter mile. I fortunately survived my chainsaw duty though dressed in clothes and shoes that would give an OSHA inspector a fit. The typical day would start at 9 with Andrew signing in of a new batch of volunteers from other cruising boats, loading a somewhat battered Carolina Skiff and motoring across the cut and several islands to Hawksbill. If sea state conditions prohibited a beach landing we would motor around to the western side and unload our gear including Big Bertha, the giant chainsaw. Of course this landing would involve packing said gear across the island along a meandering trail, then down a stretch of beach, which with our daily progress was getting longer and longer. This was the only part of this job that I did not enjoy. Fortunately with the wind coming off shore, several of the days we were able to drive the skiff right up to the next tree in line and we would be able to get started with out being already worn from a long hike. As we moved further south on the beach the trees were a little older and more complex; that is they were sending out runners and establishing shoots or smaller trees further inland. It was hard work pulling them up. After they finish this beach they will be able to patrol and cut down any sprouts that reappear more easily controlling the area. The other somewhat dangerous part of the job was the actual cutting of the main trunk down. We would remove the lower branches first and go as high as safely possible, then with very stylish chaps on, I would fire up Big Bertha for the take down. Thanks to the volunteers the rest of the disassembly would go reasonably quickly. As I would cut the tree apart the volunteers would drag the debris to the beach and pile it. Needless to say at the end of the day I was ready for 1: dinner; and two: a very large rum drink before turning in at dark for a read or just sleep. I don't want to leave the impression that it was all work at the park. Its an incredibly beautiful place. I snorkeled practically pristine reefs with large grouper and snapper that you would not find in places that are heavily fished or developed. The coral heads were very healthy, each with its own cloud of intensely colored fish. I saw shark and eagle rays, the later being the most impressive, with upwards of 4 foot wing span, schooling in small groups going in lazy effortless circles around the reef. It was amazing. Every trip out to Hawksbill also featured commentary by Andrew on local lore or natural history of the park and the area. Every day was a learning experience punctuated with sawdust. One dive spot located just to the north of Warderick wells, in 40 feet of intensely clear water, schools of black tip reef sharks would rise up to check out the boat along with mature grouper, all protected and obviously fed by the visiting sport divers to this popular spot. It was a great time. I was invited by the chief warden and his wife who administer the park to have dinner at their house on Friday. Dubbed the solo sailors' dinner, I got to better meet some of the other solo sailors who spent a lot of time at the park doing volunteer work. (Also got to watch a little tv news after along fast, hope everyone is well back home) After the week physical labor my body was starting to wear a little, with my legs and arms covered in scratches, back and neck aching, it was time to move on to hopefully recover and replenish supplies. I was towards the end running on potatoes and pasta morning noon and night. I was longing for a cold beer and something green that didn't come out of a can. All in all, my entire visit was definitely a memorable one and I hope to return someday to once again offer my chainsaw trigger finger in the noble fight against exotic species! I would strongly recommend a visit to this place if you happen to be sailing in the area that is. It is accessible only by boat. So with the dawn on the fourth of February I headed south, running jib and jigger in a stiff breeze to Staniel Cay, site of the famous Thunderball Rock (I'll talk about that further on). The wind was in the upper 20's with waves when I arrived and anchored off the town beach. After checking the anchor I dinghied over to the beach which is right in town and got rid of the garbage that was accumulating onboard and purchased some groceries. Man the cost of food in this country is murder. Everything is brought in by boat with very little food produced in country. Add to that the duty they slap on, your talking almost two dollars for a can of tuna or 5 bucks for a can of juice. I'm looking forward to getting somewhere with some form of domestic agriculture and food production! After groceries had a little money left and went to the local watering hole and bought a bottle of Bahamian rum, a treat to ease my aches and pains. As I was heading back to the Natie M., about 100 yards away, got to witness a Royal Bahamian Defense Forces patrol boat, alter coarse (it seemed to me at least) to run over my anchor line. As they came by heading into the town dock, one of the crew yelled that I might want to check my line. This must be what the Prime Minister meant by that new level of personal service to boaters when justifying the higher duty and entrance fees. Previously they wouldn't have bothered to tell you that they just ran over your anchor line. With supplies loaded I motored further into the harbor area and around the back of Thunderball rock. The reason this is called thus is that it is where the Spectre secret hideway sea cave scene of the James Bond movie was filmed. I dropped the hook in relatively calm waters just behind, but I felt a safe distance away from the huge rock with its undercut shore and shear sides. Getting settled in I attended the happy hour with the other cruisers at the Thunderball club, so named for the Sean Connery motif, and was back and tucked in shortly after dark. I knew that the currents are tricky in this anchorage with the tidal surges so I set the clock for a couple of wake ups during the night. The first one was at 12 midnight. At 11:45 I was awaken by the boat seemingly suddenly yawing back and forth. The Natie M. tends to do some swinging on the hook in wind, but this was ridiculous. It was like the agitator in a giant Maytag was suddenly turned on with me in the middle of it. My eyes opened to the starlite night sky through the companionway, only the stars where spinning around almost 360 degrees at an alarming clip. I was like one of those time lapsed photos of the night sky where the stars make a circular track in the northern hemisphere. With a loud expression and expletive (you all know which one) I leaped out of my berth and stuck my head out the companionway to discover that my anchor was totally useless and my boat was making a zig zag course with the chaotic current closer and closer to the shear wall of the Thunderball rock. Pulled on a pair of shorts and started the motor just as the boat veered again as the anchor chain became taught again and with almost a centripetal coarse, I was slingshot directly at the rock. Slamming the motor into reverse to slow my progression towards the immovable hunk of limestone I slowly clawed away from the rock wall, not before "kissing" it with my anchor roller. My heart pounding and though cool that night , sweating profusely, I as able in sequence motor, pull in the anchor and motor some more till I had control of the situation. Not to be dramatic, but I believe this is the closest I came to sinking a boat. If I had not come up when I did I could have easily holed the Natie M. and become a permanent resident of Staniel Cay along with my home becoming the latest artificial reef. Having had enough of anchoring in a tidal surge, I motored in the bright moonlight over to an unoccupied mooring. Now moored I was able to see that the kiss I received from Thunderball, made a mess of the anchor roller but to my relief no other damage to the hull or stem. I was lucky, really lucky. Another lesson in the school of hard knocks, literally. Spent the rest of the night at the mooring and with an adrenaline hangover I woke up at dawn and got out of there. I decided to head down to Little Farmers Cay, my next planned destination, so that I could attend the Bahamian Cat boat regatta and festival. It's known to be quite a party with a lot of cruisers attending. The Cay has barely 60 full time inhabitants but does have a yacht club and grocery store. Other than a Baptist Church and some houses, some pretty dilapidated or in various stages of construction. Thinking the anchorage would be pretty crowded I arrived early to see some old friends already there. The weather unfortunately, was high winds and cool, such that most everyone was in foul weather jackets or coats all the day. I anchored off shore the yacht club and after squaring away went in to check out the town. It took all of an hour to see the entire settlement and as it was practically deserted was beginning to wonder if I was in the right place. Upon visiting the yacht club decided to take a mooring again, perhaps still with the vivid memory of the night before wanting some relief from the rolling seas of the anchorage I was in. Got some groceries and tucked in for the night. The next morning the VHF chatter was all about the race boats and when and where they would arrive. The Bahamian racing fleet consists of catboats of three different classes. The class of boat that was going to be raced here consisted of a 17 or so foot wooden shoal draft catboat with a lot of sail area. The sailing is similar I later discovered to the log canoe racing of the Chesapeake where to compensate for the huge amount of sail area on a small vessel with hardly a keel are lee board made of 2x10s that slide out 8 feet to windward. So anyway, everybody is taking on the radio asking where the race boats were, and if with the high winds would the regatta even come off when around the southern point, blaring Bahamian music comes a tramp mail boat with what appeared to be several small hulls stacked up on the deck. With a dramatic entrance the Captain C tied up at the lone dock of the Little Farmers Cay Yacht club and began to off load, with the help of multiple hands and a crane and everyone yelling over the din of the music and wind, the brightly colored hulls. The crews and captain/owners, each were supervising the offloading of their respective vessels. I had come into shore to witness the spectacle. It was like the entire island went into high gear now that the regatta cat boats had arrived! I seemed between the yelling and wild gestulations of the crews rigging their boats would go on for hours but by noon all the boats were rigged and each participant, most with either a Kalik or Guiness in hand, had begun the captains meeting which mostly consisted of some outlining of rules but mostly wagers between the various crews. I joined in the festivities, being well passed noon now (I think 2 minutes past) was drinking a cold beer with some of the other cruisers. Several of them (men only, apparently a very macho sport) where able to get a spot on one of the race boats. Of course I was willing to jump in also, just had to find a boat willing to take an American onboard. Lucky for me the high winds meant that a lot of the crews were short handed insofar as ballast and I was barely into my first beer when a heavy built Bahamian came up to me, slapped me on my back, and asked if I was sailing today. I said yes if you got a spot, "you on mon!"he replied. I asked where I should report to and the racer named Kelly told me he would find me when they were ready. So it was wait around and chat with crews and cruisers and enjoy the festivities all the while with my eye to the squally clouds that seemed to be advancing on us and the ever freshening wind. I returned to the boat to get out my jeans and into some more appropriate sailing attire that would keep warm for it was apparent that it was going to be a very cold wet day. It was with a sudden change in vibe and upon some signal that I obviously missed, everyone, requisite beer in hand, began to load onto either the tenders that would take them to the race boats anchored off the pier or to the tow and committee boats. I scrambled over the high side of the mailboat where my cat boat was tied and landed on my ass in the "H2O" right in front the wizened old man already on board who I later learned was Kelly's Father. My ego bruised but otherwise un hurt I introduced myself and hoped that the crew wasn't worried about the green horn they had recruited and my incompetent boarding. After Kelly and another cousin got on board we struggled with the rigging of the mainsail. They had not planned on the high winds and were forced to borrow a very used smaller sail with a reef. The standing rigging was somewhat primitive but the boat itself, though a simple design was very well built and obviously well cared for with fresh paint. The mast itself was a single log of some type of pine seeming similar to yellow pine. Finally we were able to tie on to a small motor skiff who towed us around the northern point and out to the course. The starting line is formed, by two buoys, and caste off the tow boat after a man of my size in a windbreaker and sweatpants jumped aboard. I soon learned that he was man who made many of the masts used on these vessels and that the owner had taken onboard as what I can only describe as the tactician. He quickly made his authority known with a running commentary of the state of the rigging of the boat and how we had set it up. He of course barely acknowledged my presence on board, being just a lump of ballast and all. I found myself hanging to this little boat, five of us scrambling over and under each other to keep the boat moving, and preferably up right. I quickly became concerned when I realized that I did not understand hardly a word the tactician spoke or rather yelled, but it was obvious he was obeyed and listened to, albeit with some consternation by Kelly at the almost continuous criticisms. I was probably part of this litany but was spared any insult as I could barely understand what he said speaking in the thickest Bahamian patois I had heard yet on the islands. We sailed down wind with just a small patch of sail hoisted. Just before reaching the start line, having approached up wind, one of the crew caste off the anchor and lets out line till the boat settles back to the start line. This is an extremely important part of the race, I quickly learned, as enough rode must be let out that the anchor, more or less a grappling hook, can securely set so as the boat can then be "placed" right behind the line. The result of this type of start is that boats that do not place their anchor correctly can find themselves dragging back as much as 10 or 15 feet behind the line. This of course is done with a lot of yelling amongst and between the crews and the committee boat who yells instructions and admonishments to the various boats. The boats that were in good position, ours I was happy to see included, would yell to the race official "Lets go boy!" wanting to take advantage of their position while other still struggling boats plead for one more minute! Finally, the official raised the Bahamian national flag and after a brief delay, drops the flag and the race is off! With the start, two crewman's job is to quickly haul in the anchor while a third raised the main halyard. As I said earlier my expectation was to be not much more than ballast but I was soon caught up in pulling with all my might the anchor rode, dropping the anchor on my bare foot. I did not have time to dwell on the pain for there was more of that to come later on in the race. With every tack, just as we luffed and came across the wind, I would dive into the hull and cram my head beneath the 18 foot boom, which clear the deck by barely inches. With each tack we would take on a lot of water as the coming and gunnels of the cat boat were not very high. One of us would have to dive down to the cockpit sole and connect a bare wire to the battery so as to turn on the bilge pump. Each boat has two lee boards, each with two crew man hiking out to the very edge on every tack. The wind was blustery with a lot of gusts, so I was constantly sliding out to the very end of the board and then just as suddenly back in. I was thankful the owner maintained these boards with a strong painted finish with no splinters. Of course each maneuver was accented with a lot of yelling and commentary on the skills of the crew and other boats positions in the race by the boats tactician. It soon became apparent not only how competitive these sailors were but how skilled. I was occupied most of the time making sure I was in the right place at the right time and not screwing up. One one tack I was sure we would not be able to make the mark, but with the constant observation and adjustment of the sail and main sheet the tactician coached Kelly's Dad, who was at the helm, into perfectly making the mark. I was truly impressed. It was with every gust or slight shift of the wind, adjustments to the trim would be made, to give us the advantage. What a race. We came in a respectable mid field, having a difficult start. I was hooked. That night I hanged out at the yacht club to listen to the various captains and crew yell, place wagers, brag and generally have a hell of a good time. I was really taken with the passion these sailors, in these little handmade boats, bring to their sport. I was sipping a beer trying to follow the conversation. One phrase that kept coming up, during what I took to be an argument over race rules, was "NASCAR rules". At first thinking that I was not hearing right, misunderstanding some arcane yachting term mixed into the Bahamian patois, found that it was a racing term equal with the fouling of another vessel by violating its right of way during a race or prevent it from making way. The NASCAR rule they referred to was when, as I understand it, a car forces another car to the outside of a curve during a during a turn in an oval coarse. Never thought I would hear NASCAR and sailing in the same conversation. The next day, Saturday, the main day of the festival and regatta, I was happy to learn that Kelly wanted me back aboard. Guess I didn't screw up to bad the day before. The race was even more exciting, with the first. At first we had a great lead, with a quick start and again impressive tactics, but as we rounded the first mark we were squeezed on our windward side by another racer. The result was the lee board that I and another crew were hiked out on was over the coaming of the adjoining boat. Dad, again at the helm, lost his nerve, no doubt concerned over the impending collision, and quickly veered off, the result being that my crewmate and I quickly found ourselves in the water, desperately hanging on to both our boat and that of our competitor. Of course this was all made complete chaos with the yelling of both crews. Our tactician was really livid, as he lit into Dad over the blunder. I thought a bit untoward to be so disrespectable to a 70 year old man. After we recovered two places and struggled with the rest of the race to recover. Even with that critical mistake we were still competitive and came in third that race. As I said, the excitement of the race and my concentration over making sure I was correctly balanced made it difficult to remember all the details of each individual race. It was thrilling. I was cold and wet when I waded into shore in the afternoon to attend the party and award ceremony alongside the beach, which incidentally was alongside the runway of the airport. No less than a 100 feet away, as the party raged, twin beech and other aircraft were landing and taking off, sometimes with festival goers walking alongside the runway! The rest of the evening hanged with other cruisers and as we circulated between the different party sites of the festival. Being exhausted from the days sailing, though, called it an early night and returned to the Natie M. One highlight of the evening was meeting a family of four from Canada that also were there on a C&C Corvette from Quebec. We agreed to meet tomorrow and visit each others vessels to compare. Didn't think I would run into another of these old and relatively rare vessels in these waters! 2/9/09 With the wind shifting to the east, I left the mooring and motored over to western side of the island yesterday afternoon. It was now quite calm and I dropped anchor with the intention repairing the damage to the anchor roller at Thunderball. The other corvette later on motored over and anchored near by and we took turns visiting each others vessel. It was fun to talk with another cruiser about the same vessel, with similar characteristics and idiosyncrasies. I've been getting the hang of the cruising lifestyle after a somewhat fitful start. The weather is even starting to get a little more into the range one would expect in the tropics, though I hear the jet stream is expected to dip south again next week. Need to reduce my latitude a little more.

Causserina Chainsaw Mania!

Here are some pictures of the beautiful and uninhabited (two pluses) island of Hawksbill Cay. The stand that we are taking down is right above the high tide line which is just fine as they are a pain to drag. We are piling the branches and stumps on the beach for a burn later on after they have dried out a bit. Brought to the islands to provide shade they are, like many other man introduced species, a disaster for the local flora and fauna. The shallow root mat prevent turtles making nests; when they blow over in a storm, they tear up the beach adding to erosion; and their pine needles form a mat of duff that prevents any other plant or tree from getting established. But as I said, their pretty when prunned and have a pleasant swishing sound in the wind. Here though their weedy and will be eliminated, chansaw and my back willing!!

Bannanakins

These friendly and sugar addicted birds are all over the island of Warderick Wells.

At the park entrance, and now at the Natie M since they have discovered my onboard supply of raw honey, they will litterally cover all extended appendages of your body as long as you have sugar or something sweet to attract them. No, I am not covering my self in honey just to fee the birds, usually a little dab at the end of the finger is enough to get them to fly over. Every morning now, they fly out to the boat expecting an handout. Everyday they bring a relative. May have created a problem.

Picture Request

Hi!

I have recieved several requests for pictures. The only thing that has prevented me from doing so is the available bandwidth at anchor and the time involved uploading. Not to mention sending mega msgs to annoy everyone's IT manager.

I have decided that pictures will be sent directly to the blog so you can more easily access them if you are so inclined. I will include commentary for explanation of my mediocre photographic skills.

The blog address for those that don't remember or have:

http://natiem.blogspot.com

Thanks for all the comments and msgs. I really enjoy hearing a familiar name down here.

Mark