Staniel Cay – 1 kilometre walked, 3 miles in dinghy, 2 miles paddled, several metres snorkelled
I was awoken by the wail of a squawking rooster. This doesn’t happen frequently at anchor in the ocean.
It had been many days or perhaps weeks since I’d last used our paddleboard so I took advantage of the light winds, slight current, and sunny early morning to go for a ride. Despite the dozens of boats, the anchorage was quiet and still and I saw no people as I paddled towards Pig Beach (and spotted the offending roosters) then along the shoreline. A disturbance on the water surface caught my attention - a flying fish, the first I’d seen. I also saw many starfish lying on the bottom, then a stingray, then a nurse shark. I did a great loop around the anchorage, about 2 miles, and by the time I returned to SeaLight my triceps and back were groaning.
Once the ladies were up and ready we took the dinghy into Pig Beach, where there was already one other boat there, and a few pigs swimming around in the water. As we approached the shoreline we were surprised by the number of pigs on the beach, and the bulk of some of them. One swam up to the dinghy, with his two perfectly round nose holes above the water, drawing air. Stella had a bag of small carrots and tossed one his way but he seemed unable to see it and instead just kept following us around. We could see there were baby piglets on the beach so I brought the dinghy in for a closer look.
Bad idea.
As the bow of the dinghy touched the shoreline we were swarmed by the famous swimming pigs of Exuma, looking for handouts. One big one thrust his sandy head and drippy mouth into the boat and grabbed the bag of carrots from Stella’s hand. Another held his mouth wide open, yellowed teeth and pallid pink tonsils exposed, waiting for a snack. One Anna screamed and the other Ana yelled. I punched the engine into reverse and skeedaddled away from the voracious pig scrum. It was then I noticed a large sign on the beach warning, “Feed pigs from your boat only. Do not go to shore. The pigs bite.”
Were the pigs cute? I’d say no. They were not the fat little pink ones we see at home; no, they were more like wild boars, with coarse long hair, long faces, spoke in deep grunts, and some had curved tusks. The little ones were cute, but we couldn’t get close enough for a good look. But seeing the pigs in their unnatural habitat was certainly an experience.
From here we dinghy’d into the Staniel Cay Yacht Club, which took a very long time, so I decided to return to the boat and move it in closer to the Thunderball Anchorage, which was right next to the Grotto and near the village. By the time I returned to shore, the girls had already walked the island and were on the dock watching the many nurse sharks clustered near the fish cleaning station, with some of the other cruisers actually sitting in the water trying to pet them. As we watched, two baby nurse sharks appeared and we involuntarily started singing the song. How often in life do you get to sing Baby Shark when there’s actually a baby shark in front of you.
Ana took me on a guided tour of the island while the girls went into the yacht club to play pool. The community itself has a population of just over a hundred permanent residents and was established in 1783 with the Staniel Cay Yacht Club commencing operations in 1956. Outside the property lines of the finely groomed yacht club we found all the signs of an economically-challenged community – severely weathered homes, dull grey cinderblocks lying haphazardly in yards and on the roadside, wind-swept garbage gathered in groves of bushes, dented and beaten vehicles and golf carts, stray dogs, flickering power, corn struggling to grow in front yards, and shades of rust everywhere. The only evidence of prosperity were the fancy yachts on the docks at the yacht club and some well-kept tourist cabins and bungalows nestled into the areas with ocean views, reserved for those of privilege and means. There were a number of shops – two small grocery stores (one pink, one blue), a dive shop, a clothing shop, two restaurants, a water station, and another larger general store we didn’t get to (have to save something for tomorrow).
The yacht club looked to be the center of activity on the island and was open to all. I wandered through the building to look at the decades old framed photographs of huge fish catches, parties, locals in school uniform, family photos, images from the crew of a 007 movie Thunderball, filmed here in the 60’s. Hung from the ceiling were dozens of pennants, some for sports teams, some custom, brought by visiting boaters. There was a separate dining room, with molding oak crown moulding and a dinner menu with prices that brought tears to one’s eyes. The giant wooden wrap-around bar whispered secret tales of romances sparked, cash exchanged, alcohol-fueled arguments, lies told, truths revealed. The girls played pool, dropping balls infrequently, while Ana and I relaxed on comfy chairs, scanning our surroundings. This was a cool place.
We returned to the boat and had lunch. I made myself a conch salad from our recent catch and the girls had grilled-cheese sandwiches crafted with fresh bread bought from a kind local at the roadside table bakery only an hour before. Post lunch plans to snorkel were telepathically scrapped in favour of cockpit and cabin naps.
I woke up sometime later to find Waddington anchored close to us, so I splashed some water on my face and rowed over for a visit and a sampling of some delicious local rum Ben and Kate had picked up in Rock Sound, Eleuthera. As it was nearing the end of the day, I returned to the boat and gathered the girls and snorkeling gear for a late afternoon, slack tide visit to Thunderball Grotto.
The Grotto is a mushroom shaped island that can be accessed most easily at low tide by swimming through one of the various holes in the rock at the waterline. Upon entering, you find yourself in a marine wonderland with hundreds of colourful fishes around you, looking for a handout. The water is 15 to 20 feet deep, clear, and you look up to see a huge rock dome above you, with holes far above allowing sunlight into the secret cave. We brought saltine crackers and bread chunks and fed the fishes while Ben recorded the feeding frenzy on a phone in a waterproof case. We swam in the cave for a while, then Stella and I went out the other side and found a huge coral reef, full of fishes, just outside the island. We hadn’t timed the tide quite right so there was still a bit of a current we had to fight through to get back into the cave. Anna had decided to stay in the dingy, wrapped in a towel, not entirely comfortable with swimming into a dark cave, but we’re hoping she might give it a try tomorrow.
Ben and Kate came over for a long overdue sundowner and we sat together for hours in SeaLight’s cockpit trading stories and listening to music as darkness fell, the strong south winds gathered strength, and the boat bounced and swung in the waves.
Those pigs look Yummy Kris. I 'm surprised you haven't considered having a barbq.
ReplyDeleteIts amazing how two different worlds exist; one above, the other below the water line.
Lunch came right to you. Hmm
ReplyDeleteAs always your adventures are entertaining, you really should be a writer Kris! Stay safe and enjoy every moment ☀️😎🌴💕
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