Author: equinoxgardens@gmail.com

After a few beautiful days on the water, we’ve landed back on our home shores. The crossing itself was uneventful- a too-light wind was behind us, so we motored across, with only the main up for steadying purposes in the softly rolling cobalt swells. No fish caught our line, but there was plenty of rummy and Old Maid played, books read, a few movies watched by the girls, and tasty vittles consumed. Such is passage-making aboard Chickadee.

Our jump from Green Turtle to Powell Cay turned out to be a jump to Manjack Cay instead, which was a boon in that it didn’t put us on the still-roiling sea for longer than we needed, but also because the pregnant goat we had met on our previous trip to Manjack had had her babies, and it was then that we discovered that everything is better with a baby goat nearby.

The island denizens who offer their beach as a landing pad, their yard and spaces as quiet refuges (and their workshop for sailors who need one) invited us to walk to the western point of the island with the goats and their people for their afternoon stroll. Mom-goat, auntie-goat and the two kids walked with their human parents and the eight of us on a gnarled road/path through the woods to the bluffs, delighting in watching the little babies leap and twist with no apparent cause or reason, as if they had misfiring springs in their hooves. Once at the shore, the four goats ran and barreled down paths like their tails were on fire, and we sat on the deck and listened to them bleating back and forth; stranded babies calling for help, and elders wondering where in the heck those babies went off to.

On Wednesday we left Ruach at Manjack, and headed west to make our way to our ‘jumping off’ point. We have more of a time crunch than they do, since our haul schedule is set for Monday, and we were hoping to get to Stuart in time for the canvas people to get a template for our bimini supports on Friday. We had an incredible sail with 25 knots on our quarter, and apart from making miles and enjoying the day, it was wonderful not to hear the drone of the engine at all. Since we’d had little sleep for the past few nights listening to the wind howling through the hatches, we decided for a more comfortable anchorage at Great Sale Cay as opposed to the more exposed Mangrove- the winds were taking their time dying down. We learned en route that our canvas ‘meeting’ wasn’t happening, so our timeframe opened up enough to allow us to wait for a day for Ruach to catch up. Before meeting them at Mangrove, however, we decided to explore Great Sale Cay a bit, since we only had 20nm to sail.

Our Great Sale adventure began auspiciously enough, with us traipsing across the lava-like ancient coral beds looking for a path through the mangroves to what we saw on the chart was a beautiful beach on the opposite side. The casuarinas were in sight (always a good beach sign), whistling in the breeze, but the getting to them part was proving to be tricky. After a bit of bush-whacking, we came upon a road of yore, crumbling and grown in, but a road nonetheless. The island was used by NASA in the 60’s to track rockets, and sites of ruins on the beach were also mentioned on the charts. Following the road we came upon some scat, which we first thought disgustingly was human. More pieces, more investigation (mmm, up close!) told us that it ate some serious vegetation, and the images of wild boars chasing us down the beach commenced. Once we made it to the beach itself, the ruins were beside the point, because all I could focus on were the hoof prints and large tunnels and holes dug through the high tide rack. There were plenty of prints, and fresh as well (as a newly self-proclaimed animal tracker I simply noticed that the wakes of upturned sand weren’t yet dry from the heat of the day, which was drying our tracks with haste. Field note #3: they were LARGE, whatever they were.)

Fully endorphined now, picturing myself throwing each child up a casuarina to climb (easy low branches for them to start!) for their lives while I wrestled the beast to the ground (I’m not actually sure what Andy would have been doing in this image of mine), I was ready to turn around, but tried my best to play it cool for the sake of Lily, who was equally spooked. “Are wild boar aggressive?” she asked. “Ohhh, nooooo….” we said before catching each other’s eyes and picking up our speed. Violet, on the other hand, self-assured as always, was more upset about not getting the beach time to swim that we had suggested might be a possibility. She was lagging behind, enhancing my reel by the frame of a vicious animal leaping from the mangroves to snag the smallest prey first. Maaaaaybe it’s time for me to meet civilization again, lest my imagination knot my skull with crazywork.

We beat feet back to the dinghy, where we realized that we forgot to set the geocache we had brought, so we hauled anchor, motored around, dropped anchor again and sent Andy back to the beach on Boar/Beast Island to do so. He lived to tell the tale, amazingly enough, and some adventurous soul may find our cache and the treasure we left. (Or the boar will snarf it out and see how a friendship bracelet in the Bahamian flag colors tastes.)

Mangrove was a lazy sail away, and while we waited for Ruach to arrive, we dinghied around to explore what was shown to be a small plane wreck on the chart, but what we found to be was an island impenetrable due to mangroves, plenty of stingrays along the coast, and a blue hole that was both beautiful and eerie at the same time. (Later research showed that the plane is actually underwater, and requires a snorkeling expedition: next time.)

We pulled into Loggerhead Marina for a ‘swanky’ weekend of boat cleaning and decommissioning earlier this afternoon, and have already hit the pool (heated, freshwater) and have had a perfect reunion/catch up dinner with our friends next door in Jensen Beach, who were kind enough to put up with our car-less ways and drive us to and fro while also feeding us. (How do we land these amazing types of friends, anyway?!)

There is a lot on our list to do before we haul on Monday, and still more after that, since our crane is scheduled to pull our rig just two hours after we’re on the hard. Lines and sails to be rinsed and stowed, covers and blankets to be washed, a salty boat to be doused with fresh water, and derigging as best we can for now. Plus we’ll be planning for next year’s projects, ordering parts to replace those now broken, lost or dysfunctional, and the general packing and repacking of any sort of gear that all boat projects require. I’d be lying if I didn’t say that time at the marina pool for the girls is on the list as well, so it’s not all a slog now, is it?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Follow up ‘field note’: while our photos of the poo did indeed match with the wild boar scat that Google had to offer, I could not find any mention of boar sightings on Great Sale Cay, despite its many mentions in travel blogs, sailor’s journals, or the island’s listing (for $10 million it could be yours!), though that last bit doesn’t surprise me. I DID, however, find plenty of gnarly aggressive wild boar videos, opposing the one Bahamian (I think?) home video boar sighting, where the toothy boar basically flops in the surf on the beach next to the frat boy filming it, not caring a lick about anything (i.e. not attacking said frat boy). The Bahamas are becoming well known for their swimming pigs- are ‘tame’ boars the next step up in attractions? And is buying Great Sale Cay Step One in capturing this market?! Ten mil could tell, people, just ten mil.

Lots of activity, not much wifi. In the past handful of days we’ve been back to Hopetown for a fun day with Sam and Kayda and a visit to the Hopetown Inn & Marina (it’ll definitely be in our freshwater pool guide as a four star, with an added mention in our supplemental guide: dryers that actually dry, and showers that are too pricey to bother with).

We then made our final crossing back over the Whale, and we’ve been bedded down in Green Turtle since. A front is blowing through, and with our wing keel sailing us back and forth on the mooring for three days, we’re certainly feeling it. We’re in Black Sound now, and it’s been great to employ our newfound knowledge of the island and its public docks to best arrange provisioning jaunts, laundry runs, fuel and water fills and general island romping. We’ve spent time at the Leeward Yacht Club pool, had the kids run to and fro in New Plymouth on its waterfront playspace, lunched, ice creamed and played the bean bag toss game as often as possible (it seems to be everywhere here).

Yesterday Andy and I took the girls on a long Sunday morning walk, which turned into a great exploration and eventual swim on the windward beach with its massive surf. We poked our way back along the hot and dusty road happily looking for treasure on its shoulder, but apparently looked pathetic enough to have a local stop and offer us a ride back. (Turns out we were pathetic enough- we took him up on it.)

 

After joining with Ruach we went to a leeward beach and the kids played together while we lounged on a nearby dock. Martin arranged for an Olympic showcase for Maeve and Lily while Violet made a birthday sign for her friend, and then buried herself on the beach in the sadness of missing birthday time with her bestie in Maine. It was an adorable showcase of Hawaiian sea grape-rimmed sand self-burial, even if its impetus was a blue one.

 

Today we begin our westward march back to Indiantown, starting with a small hop after school to an island a bit up the chain called Powell Cay (okay, I lied, we go westward tomorrow- today is a northbound journey). Tomorrow we plan on an early start for a ~60nm day to get us to Mangrove Cay, where we’ll stay for a night before our next long day (~75nm) to West Palm. The weather and conditions in the Gulf Stream coming up make it a good run for a day trip, and Lily really wants to see the crossing instead of sleep through it this time. Strangely (but completely identifying with their mother), their favorite part of last year’s offshore day and night was the stretch of time that they couldn’t see any land, and they want another go. Also, it’d be nice to catch a fish or two.

Anyhoo, that puts us in West Palm on Wednesday late afternoon/early evening if all goes to plan, and from there we’ll quickly make our way to Indiantown (a night in Peck Lake, and a few nights in the Stuart area to de-rig and start our decommission, which we’ve found to be a nicer setting than the boatyard itself).

I’ll spare you the depressive thoughts about leaving Chickadee that ran so rampant last year toward the end; the sentiments onboard are quite the same, but it’s too much of a bummer to simmer on it. For now we’ll just keep playing Chutes and Ladders until our eyes bleed, sew and bracelet-make like it’s the family business, read and play together as much as possible, and try to stow these moments for later use and comfort in the chaos of another season on MDI.

Well, it’s happened, school marm Mom has won herself a nickname, and it ain’t pretty. After a particularly frustrating Monday morning session where I battled with Lily for her focus earlier today, Violet, who was finished with her work but working hard to distract Lily so she’d have a playmate, came up with a stinger: Ms. Trunchbull. I doubt that most of you have read Roald Dahl’s Matilda, but for those of us who have, it evokes the kind of nasty in a Headmistress that is barely fun to read about, let alone live through. (Though Matilda is fiction, Dahl has most certainly drawn upon his own experiences in boarding school in England in the 1920s and 30s- think canes, whips and anything terrifying and purely ghastly to a 9 year old.) Let’s just say, I’ve clearly hit my stride in the teaching department. At least it got us all laughing, until of course, they segued into the Mr. Grinch song, when I had to put the brakes on. There is no way I’d live in a cave; it just isn’t me.

Soooo, other than two-way educational mental torture (I promise, I haven’t laid a single cane on anyone on this trip), our big excitement has been in the form of eagle ray slaps. After sunset during the past two nights here off of Tahiti beach we’ve heard massive splashes in the water all around the boat. Andy and Lily took a spot light to the bow last night and aimed at a splash to see a giant eagle ray leaping out of the water and crashing back down again. Disarming, really. I later read that the reason isn’t exactly known, but thoughts are that it’s either a female eluding a male (ayuh), a move to escape a predator (an obvious choice), or the ray using the re-entry force to disengage remoras or other sucker fish (I’m not sold on this). Reasoning aside, we heard a story about a ray clobbering a woman who was just sitting in her cockpit, which is a visual both hysterical and terrifying all at once. They can grow up to 6′ long; that’s no small thing to land in your lap/on your face. Plus, stinky.

Yesterday, pre-ray action, we caught a ride with Sam and Kayda up the coast of Elbow Cay to a new restaurant that we wanted to check out. We towed our dinghy, and hopped out ‘on the side of the road’ to go our way while they went back into Hope Town. Though we didn’t eat, we did enjoy their view while the girls enjoyed their pool, and we then snorkeled for a quick minute on the junk pile they’ve used for a habitat close to their dock. The girls were thrilled to see a toilet on the bottom, and made sure that we all saw it before we left. (Lordy, doesn’t take much, I tell you.)

We then dinghied back south but tucked into the Abaco Inn Resort in White Sound on our way back to the anchorage. We met up with the Ruach crew there, and sea glass hunted on the beach, swam in the pool, had a drink under the gazebo and definitely took advantage of their fresh water pool shower. At this point, we could be publishing a cruising guide to ‘Saltwater vs. Freshwater Pools Accessible by Purchasing Beverages’ in the Abacos, with the added bonus of us telling you which showers are unlocked, which have key access only, and which are worth loitering outside of until someone comes out. Notable accomplishment on our part (Ruach is part of this!), if we do say so ourselves; well worth the ‘research’.

Tomorrow we’ll head to Marsh Harbour to look at outboard engines (they’re much more affordable here, and 2 stroke, which is preferred), and then possibly anchor out someplace more remote. Since we plan to be back in Green Turtle on Thursday, we’re trying to take advantage of our last few times anchoring in clear waters on white sand, and being in Marsh Harbour with the murk of many boats doesn’t quite cut it for me.

Heading out to read in the cockpit- wish me luck for a ray-free evening!

 

Bedtime in our house has never been a particularly difficult, drawn-out ordeal, but Chickadee bedtime breaks records for speed. At home we read to the girls, sometimes together and sometimes individually, and then we leave them to read to themselves. Lily usually makes it about ten more minutes, and Violet has been known to stay awake in bed for an hour or more, happy as can be with books, doodling pads or stuffies for imaginary games- it just takes her brain longer to wind down. About a month before we left she started a new request at the hug-and-kiss-goodbye stage where she asked me to “Come back in 5 minutes”. Since she doesn’t have a clock or watch in her room, I’d use a bit of mom-advantage and take my time, cleaning up downstairs, coming back in ‘5 minutes’ to see her again. The goodbye was the same: “come back in 5 minutes”. When I was near their room I’d poke my head in and either choose to show myself or not, depending on how close to sleep she was. Some nights she’d be so close, yet her stubborn nature still shone through, whispering with closed eyes and one hand held up from her slumber with all fingers waggling “5 minutes”.

Fast forward to Chickadee, where Lily falls asleep at dinner most nights, and Violet has us brush her teeth half of the time since she can’t bring the brush to her mouth in her exhausted state. The “5 minute” gesture is laughable but oh-s0-sweet. She can barely get the words out before she dozes, and last night her ‘5-er’ hand up to me fell and slapped her own face as she spoke. (This all goes down most nights around 7:30, by the way, lest you think we’re torturing our children with midnight adventures… they play HARD.)

It was remarkable that they slept at all for our last Hope Town night, but sleep they did. We had set a second anchor for security in preparation for the 30-40 kt winds forecasted, but it was a sleepless night despite. The rain came in full force around 11pm, and a line squall blew through with a blast that felt like a Mack truck hitting us on the beam. It not only put us on our ear for a brief chaotic moment, but yanked our primary anchor out and left us with our secondary on the job solo. (Though we didn’t see the anemometer at the time (too busy holding on), we are guessing that it was somewhere in the 50-60kt range. It flipped Ruach’s dinghy with the engine on it, and we’re shocked that we didn’t lose any of the gear on our deck.) A bit of fiddling with rodes and another stiff gust and both anchors were reset as we could tell, but I was wired and proceeded to stay awake until about 4am when the winds died down. I stood in the companionway and watched the boat swing repeatedly back and forth between the two anchors, and the relative quiet and still of the morning was a welcomed relief.

On Thursday we steamed into Marsh Harbour, where we enjoyed a on again-off again rainy day and tried to recoup some brain cells from our mental anchor-watch flogging. We’ve found that rum helps.

 

Yesterday morning we walked to the ferry terminal about a mile from the harbor here and met friends coming in from Hope Town and headed for the airport. It was a lovely recon mission for the rest of our day, and an even lovelier chance to see our friends once more.

Recon to find a perfectly perfect perch for our post-schooling and work day: we raced back to the boat for a motivated session before heading to the Abaco Beach Resort, where we lounged by the pool complete with bridges, a swim up bar and comfy loungers. The entire resort was as immaculate as we’ve seen- the beach had a playground, corn toss, hammocks, kayaks for the using and a large chess board. We ate lunch on the pool deck overlooking the marina, and the kids swam for about 5 of the 6 hours that we were there. TGIF and hooray for ‘winter break’- even though we’ve had them do school all week despite their peers’ break, this was a treat to reward the effort.

Today we’ll do a quick provision and diesel run and head to Sandy Cay for hopefully another snorkeling adventure today or tomorrow. After a few days roaming south of here, we’ll need to poke our way back north for preparation to cross.

For now though, I’ll be back in 5 minutes.

I feel like I’m in the big city all of sudden, tucked away in a coffee shop complete with baked goods and -gasp- internet! Sam and Kayda have taken the crew on a walking tour of Hope Town, which, as was pointed out, will largely be a who’s who of Mainers in Hope Town. I can’t get over how much of our state fills this little place seasonally, floating or otherwise. I certainly understand the draw- it has everything a boater or cottage owner would need, plus easy access to protected beaches in every wind direction, and snorkeling to boot. If we knew a winter of ours wouldn’t be focused on sailing, this is the place we’d hunker down to rent a house.

Another front is on its way, and we’re happily dug in just outside the harbor channel to await its passing. After days of hot sunshine, it’s nice for everyone to have a bit of change, with the bonus of having an ‘official’ excuse to hunker down to craft, play games and watch movies. We’ll have our tour here this morning and then head back to the boats to do just that. Tomorrow, no doubt, it’ll be business as usual. We can’t miss too many days without beach house building, can we?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We’re starting to think ahead to our upcoming projects onboard, and we’ve almost completely decided that this will be the year we haul the mast and replace the rod rigging. While we’d also love to paint the mast, cost will most likely be inhibitive, and we may opt to only paint below deck, so poo, there goes my drive for finishing my granny square ‘sweater’ for it. Eh, what the heck, I’ll probably yarn-bomb it either way when Andy’s not looking.

Other projects will most likely be a new fixed bimini frame, and new canvas to match our new dodger. I’d also like to replace the cockpit cushions, which have started to spew their foamy innards despite my efforts to sew the pleathery seams closed. Our house batteries need replacing, and we are in desperate need of a larger, but lighter dinghy (so that we can still feel comfortable in our davits’ ability to haul with a subsequently larger engine). We have our eyes on an aluminum-hulled option, but as this list grows and the dollar signs start swirling in our brains, we have to ground ourselves to reality.

After the storm blows through here in the next day or two, we’ll most likely make our way back south a bit, and attempt for some snorkeling again near Sandy Cay before making our way back north to our eventual ‘jumping off’ point for the crossing back. For now, we’ll continue to grab these last few weeks with a strong grip!

Back on the move once more, we left our Green Turtle post on Friday for Great Guana, where we anchored in beautiful Fisher’s Bay and the kids had their swimming and kayaking ‘playpen’ back once more. We went ashore and tracked down yet another Mainer, this time one from Southwest Harbor, and had a really nice visit in her wonderfully comfortable winter home. It’s so nice to make connections with the near (so many are within grasp at home, but paths are rarely crossed!) while far away.

 

 

 

 

 

 

On Saturday morning we hoisted anchor early to get trucking down island to catch the annual Man O War flea market, purported to be a big hit for young and old alike. It was a full morning of hermit crab racing, candy drops, flea market scouring and stuffing our faces. There weren’t a lot of craft vendors, so hey ho, maybe next year I’ll really boost my friendship bracelet and granny square stock and peddle my wares!

Since we left Man O War yesterday after the fair, we’ve been luxuriating at the Orchid Bay Marina, where at 50 cents a foot, it feels like we’ve won the lottery.  It’s been nice to be tucked behind their breakwater for the most recent blow, and the pool is an added bonus, but we made the ‘unadvisable on a Sunday’ Sunday venture to the ocean side and Nippers Bar. (We weren’t trying to ignore sound advice, we simply limited by schedule.) It ended up being a chaotic but incredibly amusing lunchtime-and-beyond experience. We drifted in before the crowds, and had the pools to ourselves along with some groovy 50s and 60s tunes to bop our heads to. The music shifted forward in decade as time went on and the decibels increased. By the time we had moved to the decks to eat our lunch, we had Michael Jackson and Madonna to dance to while eating. (It was raining in fits and starts for an hour or so, and I’m only sorry that I can’t upload the video of Violet shaking her groove thing by herself under a dry deck while stuffing a grilled cheese in as fast as she could.) By the time we left, our ears were ringing, the current pop had the hoards packing the ‘dance floor’, and all we could think about is how people would safely make their way to their various destinations (most via boat) in their current states. In other words, mom-thoughts.

In addition to our beautiful anchorages and consistently fun activities, overall boat life is finding its easy and sometimes not-so-easy rhythms. Where I feel huge gain in some areas from last year to this, others have been tougher this time around. The former includes everything to do with familiarity of the boat itself- better use of storage spaces, a better handle on our usage of resources (water, fuel, propane, power), more comfort with the galley allowing for more meal variety and overall comfort of recognized patterns and routines with the details of Chickadee life.

The other piece, the frustrating piece, has been the schooling, though I must admit that recently a decent combination of shifting gears to a better boat-based curriculum and good old fashioned bribery has been a tremendous help. Frankly, we all feel like we need rewards for slogging through some of the tedium of getting your own kid to focus on what you have to say while their younger sibling is doing ‘fun stuff’. I have to remember that I am not in fact, a fourth-grade teacher, and that hopefully my kid won’t hold my lack of fourth grade teacher keep-it-together-ness against me as the seed of teenage anti-mom angst in later years, as my darker moments have caused me to envision. (If that turns out to be the case, at least I’ll have the ‘I saw that coming’ thought to keep my frustration company.)

For now, I’m sticking with simple gratitude for what we have here in this adventure and try to get my teachin’ game face on. The nurse sharks circling under our boats and docks in this marina may vary well be our ‘creature study’ tomorrow- easy peasy. After that, it’s gratitude that we’ve realized how much more beer we can carry than we originally thought. Balance!

 

After a great ending to our visitors’ time here, we waved goodbye to them as their ferry steamed out of White Sound, and then we were back to our regularly scheduled schooling and work before play.

 

Andy went spear-fishing for lobster with a few fellow White Sound-ers while the girls and I went to the Ocean Beach and played in the waves. (We actually saw the dinghies out on the reefs, catching our dinner, which was fun.) We girls came home with plenty of sand from the beach, and he came home with five lobsters, which was a nice addition to our dinner.

 

 

 

 

 

 

And while we’re not plowing and shoveling 40+” new inches of fresh powder (hmm, shucks..), we are tucked in waiting out a stiff blow. Safely in White Sound on Green Turtle, yesterday was an amusing rodeo show watching boats dragging, rescues and the like. Even after we went to bed we were awoken to the sound of people rescuing their dinghies with kayaks, rescuing items flying off of decks with dinghies, and rescuing and righting who knows what else. This morning it was a steady stream of boats heading into the marina, no doubt to take a stress-relieving break with the relative comfort of a marina tie-up. (Dan actually told a great story of a man flopping back in his cockpit with a loud sigh of relief after tying up -no doubt after a sleepless night of dragging and the accompany stress- a well-earned marina stay!)

Today’s wind and weather kept us close to home, and after some school-time dominos, we made just the short hop ashore to the Green Turtle Club. There we did one last load of laundry (in anticipation of our departure tomorrow) and let the kids play with a gang of kids from two other cruising boats, who they have loved getting to know over the past week or so. Many superhero games were played, Lily and new friends ‘saved’ some free-ranging chicks from free-ranging neighborhood cats (we’ll see how long that lasts, predator-prey relationship being what it is), and we adults chatted and finished up our chores.

The forecasting for us this winter hasn’t been the most accurate of predictors of actual weather, so we’ll see how the seas are laying down tomorrow as the winds slowly die off, and hopefully it’ll be good enough for a decent ‘whale’ crossing and on to Guana. A friend in Maine once equated meteorologist to gypsies, which resulted in a great (and admittedly completely incorrect) image that has since stuck in my head of weathermen and women everywhere tossing a fistful of options written on pieces of paper into the air and seeing which would stick to the wall. Here it is simply wind strength, direction and patterns that we care about for the short-term, and I keep picturing some man on the ‘power’ end of these wind and weather sites using a Plinko board to come up with the next day’s data. Lordy, I hope I’m wrong.

Another few days in the Abacos have passed, which has meant that another full run of activities have been tackled by Salvio.

We didn’t end up motivating for the Manjack full moon party, since another new beach find at sunset added to the bogging idea of gearing up to leave the harbor on a Friday night family movie night, but we did hop over there first thing Saturday morning.

After a mangrove exploration to see the dozens upon dozens of sea turtles in the shallow waters wending their way through the mangrove maze, we landed on a beach owned and lovingly offered by Sam and Kayda’s friends. Swings, hammocks, beach toys, and a beautiful flock of healthy chickens were showcased on the beach itself, and a tour of the property above (led by a Seal Cove native, no less! We MDIslanders are just about everywhere) blew our minds with the thoughtful detail in every turn. Goats for milk, chickens for fresh eggs, fruit trees everywhere, a beautiful garden that had us all drooling, an open air workshop, orchid collections on display and sweet pockets of landscaping everywhere that made it a true island paradise in all of the ways I consider paradise.

The fact that this couple welcomes cruisers to use their spaces as needed is just so kind and gracious. In return, they must be acquiring some amazing stories from their visitors in these years of ‘trespass, please’ offerings.

Sunday morning we dinghied back to the mangroves to say good morning to our turtle friends, and additionally saw sting rays, eagle rays, and a couple of small sharks darting on and off the sand bank that we landed on to explore the bolder east coast.

 

On our return we realized that the slide had been installed on the dock for the kids, so we jumped over to take advantage. By 11am we’d had more ‘Sunday-ing’ than we could have imagined!

We then hustled back to Green Turtle to prepare for the arrival of Mike and Frosty, MDI friends escaping the heaps of snow in Maine to enjoy the Bahamas for a few days of their vacation. Not a bad plan, really. One interesting bonus of our Green Turtle guests were the goodies that they brought- due to weather, their cache of frozen seafood and game meats requested by Mike’s daughter couldn’t be delivered to her in Boston, so voila! bear on board! As we happily ate our bear dinner, we surmised that it could be the first time a black bear has been in the Bahamas. (We’re glad it made the trip- deLISH.)

Yesterday we gave the girls their first ‘snow day’ pass from schooling and headed back to Manjack in the morning, this time to another bay known for its tame sting rays, thanks to the tour operations that feed them. It did not disappoint- we were greeted by a huge Southern stingray that preceded to bump itself into our shins, hoping that we had a snack. (We did not, but we were grateful for the sake of our picture-taking session that it didn’t seem to realize this.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Another night here in Green Turtle, and with another front coming through tonight into tomorrow, we’re going to stay here until Friday, when crossing ‘the whale’ will be more pleasant, after which we’ll head to Guana Cay for a night before going to a big flea market on Man O War on Saturday.

Happy Valentine’s Day, all!

 

We’re still in White Sound on Green Turtle Cay, and I have to say, my wanderlust is being overridden by the continuously new finds we’ve made since we’ve been here.

On Wednesday after school we battered our way around the point between White and Black Sounds by dinghy to a public dock close to Gillam Bay beach, our favorite from the last visit. After lounging on our part, and more ‘home’ building on the kids’, we treated ourselves to a stop at our original GTC haunt, the Leeward Yacht Club, for a sundowner by the pool, and subsequently a fresh-water rinse for the kids and any adults who wanted it (which reads as everyone but me: 45 lbs of hair on this head of mine makes for a process for washing, and I’ve found a fairly low-water method in the comfort of our own head/shower).

This addition to our day began another component of our daily scheduling, which is perfect, if I do say so myself: sand them up and exhaust them at a beach, and ‘clean’ them off in a pool while we enjoy cocktails!

The cleaning part was essential for yesterday in particular, and thankfully the crashing surf played its part straight away, as Lily decided that she’d take a mud bath while we waited for the Ruach crew to come ashore.

The Ocean Beach on the ocean side (I know, crazy…) was our home for the afternoon; the surf made for good boogie boarding, and yet another upturned casuarina made for a good beach home for what we now know is the Family Game.

Sam and Kayda walked down to join us, and Sam made Violet’s day by providing a human framework for her preferred method of deeper water wave jumping. He then pretended he was a shark and chased the kids around the surf, while up on the blankets, Kayda told us stories of real shark sightings over their years of cruising and snorkeling through the Bahamas.

The stories didn’t scare us by any means- shark sightings are an inevitability here. We’re in their home, so it would make sense to see one from time to time. (We all have our stories of sightings while snorkeling or diving, don’t we?) It was just certainly a timely conversation, because not 30 minutes later, Andy and I were standing at the edge of the water, watching all four kids playing in the surf once more, when a giant shadow  came their way. Andy shouted at the kids to get out, we physically helped to haul them out, and we watched the shark go as fast as it had come. It was probably a 6 footer if we had to guess, but I imagine that number will get higher and higher as we retell the story, since what good story starts with a measly 6 foot reef shark? (We didn’t see it clearly enough to be able to identify it, but that’s my guess..) Anyway, 6 feet was enough feet for me to have goosebumps, especially considering how close it was to eight precious legs.

Walking home from the beach Andy ran up from behind the group I was walking with to say that he’d gotten a text from a neighboring boat that Chickadee was dragging. (What amazing timing that on our way to the beach we’d stopped and exchanged boat cards with this particular boat. (It is a beautiful Jarvis Newman hull that we’ve been admiring for a few harbors now.)) Andy ran, and I walked on, picking up my pace when I caught sight of our bird, almost cozying up to a large motor yacht that had previously been more than an arm’s reach away. Dan ran me out to the boat in his dinghy, and Andy and I hauled up our anchor, which had a chunk of grassy sod on it that ironically probably doubled its weight. (White Sound is mostly grass, and though we were careful to try and drop the anchor in one of the few sandy patches, we were clearly on the edge of it enough so that when the wind shifted yesterday we dragged just enough out of it to cause us to take a walk across the harbor.) The harbor had by then filled in enough with the front coming through (last night into this morning) that we didn’t want to risk finding another good ‘hole’, and picked up a mooring instead. Though our anchor and 200’+ of chain available is more comforting to us than an unknown mooring, we were assured that the ground tackle is in good condition, and here we now safely sit. We’ve never had an unmanned dragging situation happen to us before, so let’s hope that we’ve checked that one off of our list for good.

After that show, we resumed our activities by dinghying across to the Bluff House, which had our ‘necessary’ components- pool + bar. Sweet relief.

Today we head to Manjack Cay for their full moon party. One particular cove has property owned by friends of S & K’s, and we’ll hopefully do some good exploring there, both on shore and on the water.

Now back to the supervision of schooling, for which I have to say with true meaning: TGIF. Though we are plodding along, still moving forward, with a sense of accomplishment for their uptake and productivity, my patience is shot with an increasingly distracted/distracting and sulky version of school-time Lily. I sense that it’s a phase of 99% testing me and 1% exhaustion, but holy jeepers, let me have the strength to not bury my head in the sand until it’s over. Which, of course, is all I think about doing. (I just hope that I remember my book when I go under.)

Love to all, especially those of you northerners shoveling out from under your new inches!

 

After Day Two of the dance of ‘gathering stuff’ in Marsh Harbour (propane, groceries, beer, definitely not in order of importance), we hauled anchor yesterday and had a great sail back to Green Turtle. Our dear friends Sam and Kayda had launched their boat Solstice for the season a few days before, and we have another couple taking a side trip from their Florida vacation to visit us here in the Abacos for a few days, also in Green Turtle. Win-win!

Though it puts us here for almost a week straight, and our newly-nomadic patterns might have us a bit twitchy by the end of it, I have the faith that we’ll find plenty to keep us busy. Once the front passes through by Friday, we’ll head out to explore a bit for on the nearby cays dotting the landscape around Green Turtle- Manjack Cay for beach and island exploration, No Name Cay for witnessing the bizarrely Bahamian swimming pigs phenomenon that we keep hearing so much about, and back to our favorite Gillam Bay.

On a swimming pigs note… huh?! The images in my mind are so conflicted- are they always just swimming in circles in the bay? Does anyone go to see ‘beach combing pigs’ in the afternoon? Resting pigs at dusk? And why pigs? Who brought the first batch to the beach and discovered their love of swimming? We’ve heard time and again that they’re aggressive, so what’s the allure in watching nasty pigs swimming around if they’re going to come and slice up your dinghy looking for handouts? As you can see, I’m not sure where to put this on my ‘to-do’ list, but it’s definitely lingering there in the wings.

For now we’ll occupy ourselves with school and planning our afternoon play session. All in a day’s work, pigs or no pigs.