The band is back together! Oh my heart.. thank goodness. Since anthropomorphizing is a speciality of mine, I’ll just say that I think Chickadee is as pleased as we all are.
Stepping from the ferry onto the yard dock and having Chickadee already in the water was such a treat this year. Andy had come down in December to rig the boat, replace our leaking fuel tank, and prep and work on a few other projects in advance of our return, so it certainly made us feel like fancy boat people who greet their crew, walk aboard and unpack their bags. It wasn’t quiiiiite like that, but a major step in a different direction, and the arrival chaos was tamped down to only mid-level messes and gear upheavals before everything was stowed and ready to go.
Another marker of the start of a new season was to be onboard and hear “Yay, Chickadee!” from fellow yard customers walking by. Since we’ve been at AYS (Abaco Yacht Service), it’s largely been the same group of sailors here, who sail from roughly November to May (our future agenda, most certainly). We’re usually the final boat in, and the only one with kids, so our last place finish in the reunion each year feels like it has a lot of anticipation and excitement, which is more than heartwarming. A welcome back reminder of our wonderful community here on the island. We had lovely catch-ups with each group, and learned the routes and plans for their winters, promising another visit on the back end of our all-too-short cruise this year.
A Chickadee record this year- we were stowed, fueled and shoved off of the dock a mere 23 hours after we arrived, in order to maximize our time adventuring while also taking advantage of wind forecasts in the coming days. It’s been a really windy winter here in the Bahamas, according to aforementioned sailors, with winds clocking all of the way around every few days. While that could certainly hamper our adventuring progress, we saw a window to get us around the Whale that next day, so we jumped on it.
We anchored off of No Name Cay for the first time in Chickadee record, and went ashore for a drink at Big O’s, which is a one stop shop (bar, restaurant, pool, gift shop and most importantly perhaps, pigs on the beach) for weekenders wanting to plop for the day, or better yet for Big O’s, tour groups dropped for lunch and plenty of rum before their next snorkel.
We had a pre-dawn start to head around the Whale (this time behind it through Don’t Rock Passage, which proved to be a little harrowing in its narrow track, shallow points and decent-sized swells making the draft a lot more variable), and worked our way into Man o’ War Cay to make our annual visit with friends there. Two nights on their dock included walks and boat rides into town for ice cream, beach days, full moon rise walks and Lily turning into coconut-opener extraordinaire (who needs tools?!). We left the island with far fewer coconuts, sweet memories with friends, lighter on dental floss (fresh coconut is a bear on the chompers!) and about forty games of Mexican Train under our belts.
We had a great motor sail south to Little Harbor, an anchorage we hadn’t been in since 2017. (It’s tidal-dependent to get in, and they have only a handful of available first-come first-serve moorings, so it’s felt like enough of a challenge that we’ve bypassed for other easier options when we’re down there.) We’re so glad we made the effort this time! A delicious Sunday brunch at Pete’s Pub on the beach in the harbor, and then a fun adventure on the beach on the ocean side afterward. As much seaglass as we remembered from our first visit and a beautiful beach (once we trekked over the razory limestone, in flipflops, to access it) for lounging and playing in the surf. Andy and Lily walked further on (my current book is too good for such time-consuming exertions), found a piece of a SpaceX something or other in the sand, and also met some people who gave them the literal inside track for getting back to Pete’s. A path with a touch more poisonwood and termite mounds, but a lot less skin-tearing limestone. It’s all a fine balance here in paradise!
A tough Chickadee decision was made (to stay or to go) yesterday morning as we woke in Little Harbor, and after Lily joined in on her first class of the day (wah wahhhhh, break is over!), we decided to head out and see what we could see. Remarkably despite the recent history, the weather has been fairly settled with agreeable wind directions, so we have had great options for both activities and overnight anchorages.
On our way south the day before we remarked on a sandy spit on a little uninhabited island that we thought we might like to explore, so we dropped anchor for the day. It was very close to a place we’d snorkeled before, so we used the window between Lily’s classes wisely- in the water. Naturally in my hasty stowage I didn’t pull a fourth mask from our stores (we only had three people on board last year!), so rather than tear apart our entire bunk, I watched from above and enjoyed bobbing in the dinghy while the girls pet the treat-greedy green turtle that knows a good group of snorkelers when it sees them.
The island itself (one of the Pelican Cays) was lovely, and we felt like we were in the Exumas… long stretches of white sand reaching out into the bank, and most importantly, no one else around.
In order to get closer to a morning Hope Town approach (for both service purposes for Lily’s classes and to get a jump on other would-be cruisers vying for their limited moorings), we steamed north after our Pelican Cay day, and dropped anchor off of Tilloo Cay, where we now sit. I came into the cockpit for a sunrise viewpoint, as I always do, but this morning I was thwarted by clouds and a few raindrops. The front looks small though, so I’m sure we’ll have some sun as we sail north in a short while.
Meanwhile, I hear dominos flipping on the table below, which means Lily is awake and ready for another game. Time to go!