It’s been a while since we alit on the shores of Highbourne Cay, and we’ve compiled some noteworthy and sometimes insane experiences since we’ve been out of data reach. A lengthy summation, in partial netherworld form, since that’s what this incredible life so often feels like.
Once upon a time, in a world known as the Exumas Land and Sea Park, the kid boats converged upon a lovely island called Shroud Cay. So many boats! So many kids! So many new friends! The mission was clear: get as wet, as salty and gather as many memories as possible. (Also to eat a lot while doing so.)
One fine morning, the brave monohull denizens took a trip ashore to find the freshwater well on the south end of the island. Result: found. Salinity: Fresh-ish, and rimmed with algae. Emergency purposes in a pinch! That day? Not so thirsty.
That same afternoon brought the monohulls and the catamarans together: through the mangroves the dinghies and children lured their parents. On the shores of the ocean beach there were cliffs to jump, beach games to play (there were eleven children, after all), and Cirque du Soleil performers to entertain! (And I’m serious here, there were Cirque du Soleil performers, and they were certainly entertaining. After all of their efforts with our group, I seriously thought about acrobat-napping the woman, since she could have tripled-dutied as our nanny, house acrobat (we all have those, right?) and French teacher- she was adorable and as energetic as I never remember being in my twenties, and clearly loved kids, but also she was very fast, and sadly got away.)
Since the afternoon apparently didn’t hold enough intrigue for the adventure-hungry ELEVEN children, they decided to take the slow route home, in that they decided to swim/drift with the flooding tide through the mangroves instead of mounting their noble inflatables. The adults drifted the dinghies alongside and swapped snacks with one another while the kids weaved their way over confused sea turtles and perhaps the odd lemon shark. As all good fairy tales end in a beautiful sunset, the children flooded out into our anchorage just as the fiery orb dipped its toe into the horizon.
BUT! The tale is not over. That was but one day in the life.
The salty crew then beat their way upwind to neighboring Hawksbill Cay, where there were not only endless sand flats, but snorkeling, paddle-boarding and general land exploration and mayhem, all of which ended in a beach bonfire. (The land exploration was for dry wood. And these fires are allowed in the Park? Hmm, sure!) Crew members engineered a cheese table, and we roasted bread on sticks. A hearty apres-dinner feast (because who says a meal should end when the meal is over?!), and a cobbled-together celebration. (Necessary 2021 side note: this is a land where COVID is in and of itself practically a fairy tale. We had all been tested before and again since arrival, we have taken two weeks of health surveys, and have been literally living a quarantined life on board since. It’s a miraculous wonder that we can be with people –touch them even, gasp!- and no one talks about a pandemic. Embarrassingly privileged of us all, we completely realize.)
The Exumas Land & Sea Park was vast, and lo and behold, there were more kid boats to fold into our ranks. Warderick Wells found us yet another family (a monohull for those counting), and a sand bar hangout (with a reef shark circling the edge, perhaps waiting for toes to fall deeper?) for our introductory afternoon. All meet and greets should be so pleasant.
Because Warderick Wells isn’t conquered without some hiking, Boo Boo Hill was climbed, which resulted in finding our boat name board yet again. Success! Less success: the Sharpie to add the year to the board was left on the beach, which meant we brought the board with us to amend and drop on our way north next month. (But it’ll be updated! And more colorful!)
After the swelliest night of non-sleep, we ‘awoke’ (does it count to say ‘wake up’ when you were never really asleep?) to start the day, again with a hike. The brave Rickadee crew battled our way through poison wood* forests (it was mentioned that a video or audio account would have been amazing along our line of eight: “On your right! Then crouch down- it’ll be on the left again just after that!” and so on and so on…), and along razorlike shorelines of eroding limestone. Three cheers for flip flops as hiking shoes! (I owe Rainbow a serious ‘thank you’ for not shredding to pieces after years of me abusing them in such situations.) We crossed to the ocean side and hiked along to the pirate’s lair, saw a very jittery hutia (an adorable rabbit-sized rodent that inhabits Warderick Wells) on the beach on the bank side, and a number of smaller ‘freshwater’ wells inland on our way back across. In doing so, we proud Rickadeeans defined what roasting, sweating, starving, thirsty and exhausted was for the day; sinking into the water after finding our dinghies again was a TREAT.
Popping outside (to the east of the islands) was the order of the day after our hike that showcased both seas and their conditions- we had a lovely sail down to O’Brien’s Cay, where the good ship Chickadee now sways gently on her anchor.
Our kid crew has amassed together again, and in our short 30 hours here we’ve cocktail hour’d with the best of them (kids as shark bait playing on the paddle board and floats after shark hour), snorkeled at the Park’s beautiful Sea Aquarium (where the sargeant majors ‘hup to’ if you have some bread to offer, and often even when you don’t), and spent the day on a favorite beach with a sweeping cut just feet off the beach itself: a ten foot deep channel with surprisingly good sea life deposited within the beautiful sand banks. (Today’s exciting sighting was a spotted moray eel, popping out from time to time to ‘bark’ at the pestering squirrelfish, who were clearly drawn to its cave/home.)
Since we plan on waiting here (ish) until the winds die down more to keep our further southing to a minimum of upwind slogging, we have more time to explore these beautiful options. More snorkeling, more climbing, more swimming, more of everything but fresh produce and decent snack foods. It’s been a long while since we have seen a grocery store, and while we’re at it, a washing machine. Looking forward to the always-fleeting-but-still-insanely-appealing feeling of salt-free clothing, towels and sheets. LUXURY, I tell you.
Speaking of luxury, Mark Zuckerburg’s yacht is nearby just east of the islands (it draws too much to play in the Bahamas bank, and is ‘shunned’ to the ocean side of all of this fun); should we just dinghy over and see if they have any asparagus and/or Pringles? Problem solved!
*Poison Wood note: Poison Wood (Metopium toxiferum) is scattered about on most islands, and can be a complete bear to deal with if it touches bare skin. Years ago Andy had rainwater drip off of a leaf, and ended up with a festering blistering rash that lasted for weeks. We try hard to avoid a repeat, and Violet is our resident poisonwood scout- she’s always dutifully on the lookout. A vigilant eye (and a helpful V) is a small price to pay for the views and sights of the island trails!