Marsh Harbour

August 1, 2017

Of all the anchorages in the Abacos, Marsh Harbour is low on the list in terms of scenic beauty. It's the main port for the region and is a big commercial center. So how did we end up here on my birthday? Shouldn't we be anchored off a white sand beach, floating behind the boat with a tropical drink in hand? Yes, but weather. Our one interlude with unsettled weather occurred right before my birthday. We're getting the outer bands of Tropical Storm Emily which is resulting in strong southerly winds, a hefty chop, and lots of squalls. We spent the last few days at Man-O-War Cay, a dry island with a strong religious tradition. (Dry in terms of beverages consumed, rather not consumed.) It was quiet and beautiful and devoid of vacationers. A glimpse into what the Abacos would look like without tourism and continued strong ties to their Loyalist history. The island residents are renowned for their boat building skills and the waterfront is a true working one. Active boatyards and boatbuilding shops with the completed boats scattered across the harbor on moorings. The majority of the rental boat fleet in the Abacos are Albury Boats - sturdy center console boats made to withstand years of use. Albury is an Abaco name and draws its history back to the Loyalists.

We had the marina pool all to ourselves.

And here's the storm.

going out on a neighbor's go fast dinghy/tender

 We walked around town - admiring the neat yards with flowering bougainvillea, white picket fences, and the family name tacked above the front door. Most yards had fruit trees, small vegetable plots, and roosters crowing. Electricity is expensive and while the island didn't seem poor, no one was running their a/c despite the heat and humidity. Windows were open allowing the sea breeze to blow through. The ocean beach was gorgeous. Crystal clear water, soft white sand. We spent hours at the beach.

So how did we end up at Marsh Harbour for my birthday? It was the first day of sunny weather  for a couple of days and we were ready to leave Man-O-War. We left with the idea of going to Little Harbour, home of Pete's Pub and an artists' colony about 20 miles south. But when we left Man-O-War the wind and seas were directly from the south and we faced over three hours of motoring straight into wind and chop. No fun. We turned west to snorkel on Mermaid Reef just off Marsh Harbour. Freja and I spent an hour snorkeling in a natural aquarium - we saw almost every kind of little reef fish in our reef guidebook. Despite the 30 or more other snorkelers, it was a fun experience.

We motored a couple miles to the mouth of Marsh Harbour to look for lobster - Day 1 of lobster season! Freja and I went hunting first but we only saw a baby; Hans snorkeled the other side of the small cove and pulled up a big one! Lobster salad!

Happy Day 1 of lobster season!

teaching Freja the fine art of picking a lobster. Must get all the meat!

We decided to go to Marsh Harbour for dinner and to anchor for the night since it was 5PM and we were so close. However we only found one restaurant open and it was more of a bar serving fried food. Thinking of a nice birthday dinner, we decided to try our luck and go fast on both engines to Hope Town . . . 5 minutes later and 3 miles outside of Marsh Harbour, the starboard engine started overheating. I ran down below to check and found the exhaust hose had popped off the port engine. (!!!) Shit.

So, instead of a nice dinner, we spent 45 minutes floating around while Hans muscled the exhaust hose back on, put the distributor cap back on the starboard engine (??!!), and had cereal for dinner back at Marsh Harbour. We were feeling pretty disgruntled and fed up.

We reassessed the situation the next morning and after running through some checks and tightening the hose clamps even more, we felt much better about the engines. We headed back to Hope Town and spent the afternoon at the Hope Town Harbour Lodge - birthday redux...lunch out, relaxing at the pool and the beach, enjoying the view.

another lost tooth!

Hope Town Harbour Lodge

The pool deck and restaurant overlooking the ocean

Elbow Cay

July 28, 2017

After a week in Hope Town, both at a mooring just outside the harbor and a few days at the fancy marina, we motored a few miles south to Tahiti Beach at the southern end of Elbow Cay. It's a spot that's similar to Double Breasted Cays with a sandbar that is dry at low tide, palm trees, and brilliant blue water; but much more accessible to vacationers with rental boats, so it was always crowded. Really crowded (10+ boats), not Bahamas crowded (which is anything more than two boats). In the heat of the afternoon there were usually ten boats with 5-10 people on each boat. Still, we stayed for three days because we had the place to ourselves except from 12-6. And the view from the back deck was just gorgeous.

We found a treehouse structure built from driftwood and scavenged line and even had a little driftwood swing. We climbed to the top of a rocky outcropping overlooking Tilloo Cut and placed our own sones on a cairn a la Moana. Hans went out the cut and fished the drop-off, at one point hooking a grouper that was so big it broke the fishing rod. The rod, not the line!! Talk about the one that got away! Our neighbors on the boat behind us stopped by for drinks one evening. Mark is a Bahamian and full-time cruiser/liveaboard. He gave Hans some local fishing tips and commiserated with us about the less than stellar visibility in the water. He believes it's from the large number of center console fishing boats that are constantly stirring up the water. It's easy to see that - the number of fancy boats with 2-3 outboards on the back is astounding.

painting her magic wand she found with Peter Rabbig

nice spot for a picnic lunch

our climbing champion

Looking out to Tilloo cut and the cairn where we placed our rocks

up at the top of the treehouse

I had stopped at the grocery store before we left Hope Town so we had a number of nice meals at home - giving us a good change of pace from our spaghetti, quesadillas, and jam sandwiches we'd been eating a lot of. We had a luxury lunch at Firefly Resort - fresh, local, and not deep-fried. We relaxed in the hammock in the shade and the girls swam off the swimming platform. The resort is beautiful - multi-level decking, stone walls that blended into the natural landscape, and brightly colored cottages built on a hillside - all overlooking the Sea of Abaco.

relaxed and happy at Firefly Resort

swimming platform that is underwater and high tide, dry at low tide

watching the sunset, and our neighbor for the night

We suspected bad water as the culprit for our GI problems so we added some bleach to our water tanks. Way too much and it tasted like we were drinking from the swimming pool. We were also out of milk so we weighed anchor and headed back to Hope Town to resupply and get fresh, non-bleach-y water.

Living the vacation life

July 18, 2017
Green Turtle Cay

No exercise; attached to land not water; a/c; comfort; restaurants. Fun. But different.

We pulled into Green Turtle Cay and tied up at Bluff House Marina. Our water tanks were empty, the fridge was near empty, and the lockers only had flour, pasta, and a couple cans of beans. After over a week in the out islands, it was time to re-enter civilization, at least for a day or two.

A day or two turned into three as we enjoyed the comforts of being at the marina. A/c, TV for the kids (=babysitter for the parents), restaurants, golf cart rental, water, water water (at .30 cents/gallon). Marina life in the Bahamas is easy living, at a price of course.

north end of Green Turtle

"Almost as fun as the fair!"

The golf cart rides were so much fun - and so different from our previous cruising life. We toured the whole island via golf cart which was fast, fun, and easy, as opposed to 10 years ago when we dinghies, hitchhiked, or relied on other cruisers' rental cars and generosity. We went to town and to the north end - the girls screaming and giggling the whole way. We stopped at the dump to show the girls what happens to trash, why we recycle, and we we try not to consume so much.





We ate out, a lot. Almost every meal. When we left Manjack we were down to huevos rancheros and jam sandwiches. We were ready for some variety! The restaurants at Green Turtle were very good, especially considering the limited food options and lack of foodie culture. We always opted for "fresh catch" and it was never overcooked. Conch fritters never disappoint, but also never live up to the ones we made at Walker's Cay.

Princess spotting in the settlement.

fresh conch salad

We restocked our lockers from the few small grocery stores in town; we found souvenirs at a little gift shop; we had a Goombay Smash at Miss Bee's - reputed to be the home of the original Goombay Smash. We played tourist and, after two weeks of living the barebones cruising lifestyle, it was fun.

attracting the nurse sharks at the marina.

After three days, I was ready to leave. Living the marina life, we found ourselves connected to land instead of water. When we wanted to go somewhere we hopped in the golf cart instead of the dinghy. If we were hot we swam in the pool or sat in the a/c instead of jumping off the side of the boat into the clear Bahamian waters. Life on the hook is filled with exercise - swimming, hiking, paddling, sweating. Very different from the easy marina life.

Day 1 of a GI bug that plagued me for the entire trip.
I fell asleep and Matilda took care of me while I was sleeping. Sweet girl.

TV TV TV!!

Boating friends

July 18, 2017
Manjack Cay

happily reunited after many months

 We arrived at Manjack Cay around lunchtime to meet up with "Peter Rabbit" on s/v Grace. We'd been dock neighbors in Jacksonville and he and the girls are great friends. We like him too. But the girls...they're in love. [Long story: every morning we had to leave for school five minutes early so we could stop by Peter Rabbit's boat. Matilda would race down the dock and yell, "Oh Peter Rabbit, hey Peter Rabbit." He'd come out, play tickle ninja with Freja and listen to Matilda while she yelled at him for everything he'd done wrong. Then he'd walk us up to the van or bike trailer, chasing the girls the whole way to get them moving faster. Every kid needs an adult friend who isn't afraid to play like a kid; and every parent needs an adult friend that will play with their kids. It's awesome.] Short story: Peter Rabbit has a "bag of fun" on his boat. That explains his relationship with the girls in a nutshell. Best item so far: sparkly gold nail polish.

So anyway, we arrive at Maniac and immediately start hanging out with Peter and his 81 year old Dad. Matilda was (surprisingly) shy, so she stayed home with me while Hans, Freja, and Peter went snorkeling. We met back at his boat for dinner - hog fish and mashed potatoes. The next day Hans and Peter went spearfishing in the morning; the girls and I pumped up our inflatable kayak (a present from other marina neighbors in Jax) and we paddled to the closest beach. It was our first try with the kayak and it was very successful. I sat in the seat and had one kid on the bow and the other on the stern. We paddled around and saw baby sea turtles. Also a big stingray and I found tons of milk conch. Back to the boat for lunch and a siesta.

Life at anchor. The girls created a fort out of sun blocking material,
while Hans looks at the chart to find a good fishing spot.

happy kids, Freja making a bracelet and Matilda writing a book.

Hans went fishing and came back a mere 20 minutes later with a dinghy that was taking on water through a crack in the floor. He took it ashore for an epoxy workshop. Peter came by around 4 to take us for a hike to the beach to look for "magic fairy wands." This is the kind of thing he does. This is why our kids love him so much.

It was a long hike for short legs and buggy, but the girls were real troopers. Freja stayed with Peter and Matilda stuck with me and pretended to be Catboy, one of her favorite characters. He has speed. It worked. She is usually a distracted, dawdling walker, but not with Catboy speed. (Thank goodness.) The bugs were intense, but I loved the twisty trail that wound through a private homestead, a gravel road, some mangroves, and finally the beach.

Manjack has a few private homes, notably the house and land closest to the anchorage owned by a couple that has created a self-sufficient homestead. Hydroponics, fruit trees, chickens, and a gorgeous house with  wrap around porch overlooking the harbor. The owners cut the trail to the beach. The beach. Three miles of wild, undeveloped, windswept beach backed by casuarina pines, sand dunes, and a few palm trees here and there. Crystal clear water and white sand.

We (expectedly) ran out of fresh water on the boat that evening so we knew we had to leave the next day for Green Turtle Cay, only a few miles away.

2007 v 2017

A few differences

July 4 and July 14, 2017 (combined journal entries)

West End and en route between Allens-Pensacola and Maniack Cays

cooking dinner on the beach, fresh hog fish that Hans speared that afternoon.

homemade Bingo. Practicing for Cap'n Jacks in Hope Town

Trying to get the kids to do chores.
It's like pulling teeth and the amount of whining is insane.

My mom asked me the other day how this trip is different from life on s/v Whisper. Is it ever! It’s like comparing apples and oranges. Rather, it’s like comparing kale and chocolate ice cream. That’s to be expected though.

Not  only is it a comparison of powerboat versus sailboat, it’s a comparison of limited time v. endless time and life with kids v. pre-kid life. The differences go on and on. There are some elements of life on Whisper that I yearn for, whereas there are times now that I’m more relaxed and filled with more joy and content happiness than I was on Whisper.

Life on Whisper was alternately stressful and pure bliss. It was a hedonistic life where our only goal was to find fun and have fun. We sailed from one beautiful island to the next - drinking rum, hitchhiking, snorkeling, diving for lobster, napping, cooking, and reading books. These lazy, gluttonous, carefree days were punctuated by intense stress. We were new boaters and had a lot to learn. Sailing was easy; it was all the other seamanship skills that were hard. Navigation, weather watching, choosing safe anchorages, maintaining the boat - these are not all intuitive and we learned as we went. This naturally lead to disagreements since Hans and I both have the tendency to believe that we are right. We learned to trust each other, to let go, and to work together. We learned which decisions are worth arguing over and which are better to let go.

All this learning - both the nuts and bolts of boating and how to work together - has come to the forefront now. Boating with kids is a whole new ballgame. Thank goodness we’re at a competent level with our boating skills. We don’t need to overthink anchoring, navigation, or weather. One of us makes a decision and the other one trusts that decision. If something breaks, Hans (almost always) knows how to fix it. The stress that can come from the concrete skills of boating is minimal (not that we’re experts, far from it), which is good, because the kids provide enough stress to keep us busy. Stock up on ice because sundowners are a necessity.

It’s not just us anymore - we have two small humans onboard that we need to keep safe and healthy - and if they’re happy, that’s an added bonus.

In a more general perspective, the major difference between cruising in 2007 and 2017 is technology - specifically telecommunications.

Back in 2007 we more or less threw our cellphones (flip phones) overboard as we crossed the Gulf Stream. The only way to reach us was via email and the only time we checked email was when we took our computer ashore and found a wifi connection, normally at a bar. Our parents were a little concerned that every time we chatted on Skype we were calling from a bar. We were always at the bar? Always at a bar with a cold beer in hand.

We received our weather reports on our SSB (single sideband) radio - a dinosaur of metal and plastic that could tune in radio stations from all over. We could dial in Chris Parker, sailors’ favorite weather router, or chat with a HAM operator who was living in an underground bunker in Minnesota. (We didn’t, but we could.)

We connected our SSB to our computer with an auto line and downloaded weather faxes from NOAA. When I say downloaded, remember it wasn’t with an internet connection, it was through radio signals on the SSB. Very old school. Our favorite was a map of our forecast region that showed current weather trends - troughs, highs, and low pressure systems. We combined that information with Chris Parker’s daily report and local information to get the general weather gist. It was a great system, albeit labor intensive, and we always felt confident about our weather reports.

Weather forecasting has gotten slightly easier in 2017. Grab my phone, open up NOAA’s marine forecast and, after a minute or so (it’s only a 2G connection, already included in our Sprint monthly plan and available over the Bahamas cell towers), voila! There’s our weather report. For better or worse, we’ve had an internet connection the entire way through the Abacos. Search the horizon for a Batelco tower - one of the only distinguishable landmarks of most of the low lying islands - and do a quick check of the phone. It really can’t be easier. Not to mention the weather is the same very day. It is summer after all!

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Fear and seasickness

July 9, 2017

at Allens-Pensacola Cay

lunch underway

 The combination of fear and a rolling, topsy-turvy boat is a guaranteed recipe for seasickness for me. Said seasickness precipitated our five mile, high speed (well, 20 mph is definitely high speed for our boat) boat ride at sunset. Boating in reef-strewn, unfamiliar waters at dark is certainly not recommended, but spending a night seasick at anchor because the anchorage is barely tenable is also not recommended. But let me back up a bit.

We left Double-Breasted Cays in the morning. The tide was rushing out and the current was swift, to say the least. In order to leave the anchorage, Hans had to drive the boat around a hair pin turn - sandbar on one side, craggy limestone rocks on the other and an outgoing tide that was trying its hardest to pull us into the rocks. Two days prior we saw a boat similar to ours in the same place, hard aground a few feet from the rocks. The owner feared a bent prop. Hans piloted us around that hairpin turn but it was scary to say the least. The current first pushed our bow out, Hans compensated for that just in time for the current to kick our stern out. It was white knuckle boating. Once we were out of the current, I unclenched my hand from a handhold, sat down and realized I was shaking all over. We were in control, sort of, but it was easy to see how our boat could be up on the rocks and our trip over in a few seconds.

The rest of the day was easy and calm. Straightforward motoring across the Banks looking for dolphins. Our initial plan was Allens-Pensacola, but halfway through we decided to try Moraine Cay. Our guidebook advertised a reef anchorage offering protection from every direction but the southeast with unobstructed ocean views. Our ideal anchorage and all true. The girls played on the beach; Hans and I went snorkeling. I played with Matilda on the beach; Hans and Freja went snorkeling. Back to the boat for dinner and the tide was coming in. We were losing our reef protection and the swell was coming from the southeast. 

the anchorage at Moraine Cay. Hello Atlantic Ocean!

Life aboard was uncomfortable to say the least. I was still feeling on edge from earlier and the rolling of the boat was making me downright miserable. I love being alone at anchorages and anchoring off undeveloped islands, but sometimes I like the security and camaraderie of other boats. After our close call with the current in the morning, I needed a protected anchorage with other boaters. I didn’t put that in words, rather just got sullen and decided we’d have to tough it out.

beautiful sunset, but you can see the swell entering the anchorage.
We were rocking from beam to beam.

As the sun was setting, Hans looked at me and said, “Let’s go. You’re miserable. This anchorage sucks. No one will sleep tonight.” The approach to the nearest anchorage was clear and deep so we weighed anchor after sunset, cranked on both engines, and burned down to Allens-Pensacola. It was thrilling to go so fast on the boat. It’s a heavy boat and with both engines at stop speed it just pushed the waves out of the way. I ran up to the vee-berth to check on the girls (they’d already gone to bed for the night) and they were shrieking with excitement. It was a like their own personal nighttime roller coaster. 

We entered the anchorage slowly and carefully, using GPS coordinates and visual cues and had the anchor down in flat calm water. I immediately felt better - buoyed in physical health and spirit. And also wishing I didn’t have such a stiff upper lip sometimes and thankful for a partner who can see through my stoicism.