Cecca and Becca have left Grand Rapids and are somewhere in a warm place with gentle blue waves, fish, toe dancing crabs, and coconut ice cream. More news on their travels soon.
The day has finally come, Cecca and Becca arrive tonight and we are nearing ready. The wash is done and drying, the boat is clean, stuff has been shoved into places where we will never find it, and the water tanks are getting topped off.
Most beach trash is easily identified: shoes, buckets, bottles, light bulbs, sea beans....., but this was a real puzzle. Here is your challenge, "What is this?" It is aluminum, 8 feet tall, 12 feet wide, and 16 feet long. One hint: it is not a Klingon war ship.
It is easy to be tourists, seeing only the quaint abandoned buildings and not really getting to know the people who live there. Fortunately, we were able to visit Thompson's Bay twice and experience more than just the usual sights. One of the keys was St. Joseph's, the small Anglican church up the hill from our anchorage. We visited two Sundays, once on St. Joseph's day and then Easter. The services were wonderful and perhaps some might say long, 2 and a half and 1 and a half hours respectively. The congregation participated enthusiastically in the service and the singing seemed like a marriage of Sacred Harp and Tahitian Choir. They sang many hymns with all the verses. People with phobias about the passing of the peace greeting should avoid this church where everyone stands, mills about, and hugs their way through the congregation, even wayward sailors. On our second visit, Vinnie ended up doing a reading while a runaway child knocked things over behind the alter, but he continued in good voice as the child was corralled by a formidable woman from the congregation. Now when we shop the grocery store ladies compliment him on his reading.
In the shallow water under white gray cliffs was a deep dark blue pool. We had our snorkeling gear and in it we found a variety of fish and endless water below. It was spectacular. Fionna and Dave had given us a ride on their way to some errands and so our adventure continued. For the trip home we tried out the Long Island Public Transportation system, hitch hiking. As they say on TV, WARNING:CHILDREN SHOULD NOT TRY THIS DANGEROUS STUNT AT HOME. It is only a safe and reliable practice on Long Island. We were quickly picked up and in two rides we went from the beach to the path for our anchorage, taking the sun and wind in the back of pickup trucks.
Fionna and Dave were living on their catamaran in the anchorage and offered us a tour of some of the local wonders. The star attraction was the world's deepest blue hole, which is 663 feet deep. They drove us to the ocean shore and a beautiful beach about 17 miles south.
The regatta also brings bands playing rake and scrape and great food. Vinnie bought a traditional Bahamian meal from these ladies: grilled chicken, crab rice, macaroni and cheese, (always), and potato salad. He missed out on one favorite, the pigeon peas and rice.
With the boat's huge sail full of wind, crew members are out on a long board to keep the boat from heeling over.
Bahamian races begin with the boats at anchor and sails down, but they are very quickly off and soaring on the wind. Here the boats are rounding their first mark.
One reason for Long Islands fame is the skill of their racing teams. This crew member should be a pro by the age of 7.
Long Island is famous for building and racing traditional Bahamian boats. Just after Easter we went to the Thompson Bay regatta to watch three locally built boats race in the bay.
We spent the next week working our way south, island to island. Some had ruins from the Loyalist settlers and their slaves, but we also found caves, old wells, and a blue hole. There were beautiful cliffs and beaches. On one iron shore we found duffel bags and backpacks of clothing, then further down the wreck of a Haitian sailboat. Its rough planking was filled with rags which gave the boat a brightly colored fringe. The mast and boom were crudely trimmed tree trunks. The boat, packed with illegal immigrants, went down three months ago. All were rescued and then deported. We were boarded by the Royal Bahamian Defense Force several days later. Since we did not appear to be smugglers or poachers they talked about the islands and told us this story of the boat wreak.
Our next stop was Flamingo Cay, home of the amazing cave. We anchored in a small bay near the cliff and took the dingy to the entrance.
After leaving George Town, we headed down Long Island, a perfect trip in strong East winds. When the winds quieted to a medium roar we sailed to the Jumentoes, a chain of small, uninhabited islands lying to the south west. Each island had its own flavor and attraction. Most of the time we had the island and anchorage to ourselves. Our first stop, Water Cay was home to an enthusiastic band of small, black tipped sharks who lived under our boat. Accustom to the buffet meals provided by local watermen who clean their catch in the bay, they had high expectations for our generosity. But they were disappointed. Although they raced over to ravage our banana peels, after a brief assault the peels were left alone to float off peacefully.
