Nassau to Royal Island, Eleuthera: Do We Stay Or Do We Go?

Nassau to Royal Island – 41 nautical miles sailed, 2 miles in dinghy, 500 metres snorkelled

With cruising you are often uncertain if you are doing the right thing. You review and re-review all the relevant weather information, route information, and nautical chart data, but eventually you need to make a decision, and you’re not going to know until later if that decision was a good one. In the meantime, there is often a level of anxiety and second guessing. Am I putting the crew in danger? Should we be staying put? Are we sailing into a wild storm? What if the worst of the weather model predictions come true? Will there be space in the anchorage? If not, will we be able to find a slip at a marina?

This is how I felt as we pulled up anchor and set sail for Eleuthera.

Some of the weather models were predicting a wicked storm to pass through our chosen destination on Monday evening, with winds reaching up to 50 knots, and a scary counter-clockwise spin with a wandering and unpredictable eye, just like a hurricane. Other models weren’t showing much of a storm at all. When there is no agreement between the various models it’s a fools game to know with any certainty what may happen, it may be just as likely for the storm to hit Nassau, or the Exumas, as opposed to our chosen location. So, we left.

The wind was directly in our face and with a 40 mile sail, we didn’t have time to zig zag so we motored the entire way. The seas were better than I expected with only two to four-foot waves and occasional larger ones that caused some pounding, but it was not bad. Kira is prone to seasickness but she was using an anti-nausea tab placed behind her ear plus an electric pulse device on her wrist designed for the same. The systems worked well and we passed the hours with plenty of stimulating nausea-free conversation, some flying fish spotting, then a tuna wrap lunch.

Royal Island is a model hurricane hole with wind and wave protection from all directions. I was relieved after we slipped through the narrow channel entrance to find plenty of available space so we chose a spot we liked, dropped and set the anchor, then sat back to relax. I strung the hammock from the solar arch and Kira eased in for a little swing and some hot sunshine. Dave immediately passed out on one of the cockpit benches and I took the other, reading for a while, then dropping off. A while later the ladies took the dinghy for a ride to explore the area and returned with a snorkeling location for us that would include a “little surprise”.

We gypsy-packed ourselves and all our snorkelling gear into the dinghy and set off at slow motion across the bay, creating a tsunami wake behind us which swamped and destroyed a few of other anchored boats. Ana was at the tiller and glided us into the far end of the bay which was incredibly shallow and offered no hints of the surprise. Dave pulled out these monstrous flippers, clearly relics from the 70's with yellowed and severely hardened rubber. To make them usable he had also picked up a set of furry blue slippers which slid neatly into the fins and looked real cute.

I flopped into the water and stood up in just three feet of depth with a mucky bottom. I swam around for a bit, finding no obvious surprises, and the girls were disappointed to discover the dozens of turtles they had seen, and perhaps run over or otherwise terrorized on their exploratory run, were nowhere to be seen.

I don’t remember ever snorkelling in under two feet of water, but that’s what we did and found many interesting pulsing jellyfish creatures, mollusks, some fish, and pyramids of sand with holes on top created by unseen ocean animals. We moved into deeper water in a cut and found a small patch with grey and dusty coral and mediocre visibility. This was very poor snorkelling conditions compared to what we’d experienced in the Exumas, but Dave and Kira enjoyed it as it was far superior to the current snorkelling options in Ontario.

We returned to the boat for a round of pink gin and tonics which were heavenly. Magnus gave us a call and we all had a chance to speak to him and hear of his school experience and, more importantly, European travel plans for his upcoming breaks. I have a feeling his transition back to Canada in May is going to be a little tough for him after this incredible experience.

Dinner was a formidable vegetarian chili with coconut buns then we moved into the cockpit for evening discussions under the dark Bahamian skies. After weaving through a series of stimulating topics, I lamented to Dave that There’s No Good Sailing Songs, so we started assembling musical ideas for a spectacular song with that title. I have some other ideas for sailing songs, such as Pee Bucket, Triangular Fabric, Weather Window, Fish Fingers, and Heavy Metal Sailor, but we’ll nail this first one before filling out the rest of the album.

It wasn’t even Mariner’s Midnight when Kira called it a night and the rest of us were not far behind her. I walked back to the dinghy arch to hoist it for a night and as I stepped down onto the swim platform my foot landed on something horrible, my initial presumption being a crippled sea otter, or maybe a furred jellyfish, or possibly an obese, drowned rat. How relieved was I when I looked down to see one of Dave's soggy slippers beneath my foot.

The Germann-Hinds Meet Atlantis, Hammerheads, and a Deserted Regatta Party

Nassau – 15 kilometres walked, 2 miles in dinghy

I despise using the expression “time to kill” but today we actually had time to kill. Our friends Dave and Kira were due to arrive at the marina by around 4:30 and yesterday we had finished all our jobs to prepare for their arrival. So, we went for a walk and found a big production supporting the sailing regatta in Montague – music, vendors, food, drinks. We walked a bit further and found a fish market where all the fishermen were cleaning their catch, bagging up the good parts and selling it to locals, and tossing the skin and innards to the hungry seagulls. We considered picking up some fish, then remembered the beautiful dorado fillets we’d seen in Spanish Wells and decided to wait for those.

We returned to the regatta party for a hot dog and cheese nachos, visited the historical site of Fort Montague (where the historical placards suggested storming the fort and taking it over was as easy as waiting until everybody was asleep), then on the way out of the park I challenged the guard at the entrance to a hurdler’s stretch competition. He won easily, but we will remain good friends.

Back at the boat I tenderized conch and cleaned shrimp for the upcoming paella dinner while Ana worked on some yacht club business. The call from Kira finally came and I whizzed into the dock to pick up our friends. They wore long sleeved shirts (multiple layers), long pants, socks, winter hats, and sported white downy winter skin. They were thrilled to be here and ready for some Bahamian sun.

A bit of background. We first met Dave and Kira while standing in line to pick up our children from junior kindergarten when Magnus was a pudgy, lisping, milk-drinking troublemaker and their daughter Tula was a skinny, gap-toothed fireball. Tula is still a skinny fireball but she has all her teeth now, very nice ones. Dave Hind is a Thingmaker, an artist, a worker of metals, and a musical force. Kira Germann is a cool hippy, a teacher, a hobbyist, and a genius with food. They both love to travel. They both love hanging out. They both love to laugh. We are lucky to call them two of our closest friends and we have spent so many days, evenings, and weekends together over the years that it just made sense to spend a week together in the Bahamas. It’s not easy to find good travel partners so we were thrilled when they decided to visit us.

After a flurry of hugs and kisses I announced we had a surprise for each of them. I reached into the fridge and handed Kira a Life in the Clouds IPA from Collective Arts, her favourite Hamilton brewery, and part of a set of 12 I’d kept refrigerated for five months, patiently awaiting her arrival. For Dave, the plan was to present him with an acoustic guitar, but all my Marketplace messages to locals selling axes went unanswered, so all I could give him was the assurance that I had tried my best, which he was grateful for, but he was just as happy we had a ukulele on board for making sweet music.

While I had been collecting Kira and Dave from the marina, Ana was putting the final touches on the conch and shrimp paella and we ate a delicious meal together in the sunny cockpit as we caught up on news. But we did not linger as we had three venues to visit tonight and time was precious. So, back in the dinghy, back to the marina, back on the pavement, and over the bridge, walking to Paradise Island for our first stop – Atlantis. As we’d become fully locals now, we toured them around, through the marina village, close up to the superyachts, in the casino, past the designer shops, through the tunnels of the Dig aquarium, and into the water park where we found more creatures – sawfish, turtles, sharks, and a serene night scene with perfect lighting, the sounds of waterfalls, and the refreshing tingle of ocean breeze. They loved it.

Next up was a stop at HPOS10i (previously known as Hammerheads, but now under construction and rebranding), the greatest and possibly most underwhelming bar on the planet, at least on first impressions, as the entire building is crumbling apart, there are often rat carcasses rotting on the busted up sidewalks, and the local area is such that you need to get buzzed in after passing a quick visual inspection by the barkeeper. But this is where all worthy Nassau adventures both begin and end.

Alex the owner was on the scene and we introduced him to our friends. I was excited as I had a surprise for him too, a little gift that I’d had Stella dig out of the bottom of our wardrobe at home and send down with Dave and Kira.

“Alex, do you notice anything different about me?” I said as I posed for him suggestively.

“Uh….a haircut?” he stammered.

“Well yes, that too, but notice anything else,” I said as I pulled back my button-up shirt to fully reveal the vintage Hammerheads tshirt beneath it.

“OH MY GOD, is that a Hammerheads shirt?” he burst in astonishment. Alex had been a customer, then server, then manager of Hammerheads back in the day and it’s quite possible we had crossed paths here. But he had not retained any of the classic Hammerheads merchandise.

“It sure is. And you know that saying about a person willing to give the shirt off his back?” I said as I took off the button-up shirt, removed the Hammerheads shirt, then handed it to him.

“What? It’s for me? Are you sure? Do you want to make a trade?” he said as he scanned the 25-year-old shirt, still in remarkably good condition.

“Nope, it’s yours.”

“Get these guys some drinks,” Alex said to the staff as he dashed away, then returned minutes later wearing the Hammerheads tshirt and a huge smile. He then pulled out a very special bottle of Cuban rum, gave us a history of the Bacardi family’s escape from Cuba, the likely location of the traditional yeast used to make the best rum (Alex reckons it never left Cuba), and made Dave a magnificent rum drink.

As is customary, the bar was full of interesting and eclectic people. Alex introduced us to some of his friends and we got into a serious discussion about politics in the Bahamas – the corruption, the illegal immigrants from Haiti, the crime, the lack of opportunities for regular Bahamians, and their perceived downward spiral of the country. We sat and stood in the upper-level treehouse as we talked with these new friends, munching on a platter of grilled chicken, watching the perpetual basketball game happening in the court across the street, the passing traffic, the customers coming and going. Alex is an extremely well read and well spoken dude and he hung with us the entire time.

At 10:45 Ana gave us the signal to make a move to the third stop for the night – the after party at the regatta grounds, which we were told earlier in the day would be going until at least 11. We said goodbye to our new buddies and assured them we’d be back next weekend, then began our walk westward. It was a decently long stroll, but we were buoyed by the Hammerheads beverages, giving us an airy lift and sufficiently blurred vision to Kalik-wash the gritty road, decorated with flattened rodents and lizards.

By the time we arrived at Montague Park the party was over and vendors were mostly packed up. There were no drinks left to be had and no music beyond the strong winds whistling through the palms and echos of machine-gun Bahamian patois bouncing between the vendors. We walked the grounds, joked with a vendor, then turned around and retraced our steps back to the marina where we loaded into the dinghy, explaining the finer points of sketchy late night dinghy manoeuvring, then took off. With the low tide it was possible to shortcut beneath the docks, and when we popped out we were hailed by a wobbly man standing alone at the back of his very large and very new catamaran.

“Nice boat!” I hollered.

“Yeah,” he said, struggling for words, balance, and vision as he seemed to have hit his Kalik limit for the evening.

“It’s huge,” Ana said. “We’re on a 43 Beneteau sailboat.”

“Ah, little boats…they’re so….” he said, searching for words that would not come, then simply hugged himself tightly and looked dreamily up into the air as we motored away waving.

We sketched our way across the bumpy seas to SeaLight, used the safer sea-lion belly slide unloading technique without incident, then recapped the evening’s events in the comfort of the cabin, with water for all except me as I just couldn’t wait to try a margarita with the fancy bottle of tequila they had brought for us.

It was well after real midnight when we finally called it a night. Welcome to Nassau!

Atlantic Dinghy Dock, Trip Planning, and Boat Cleaning

Nassau – 4 kilometres walked, 4 miles in dinghy

The cold front with its associated strong northerly winds swept in today and by the evening it was blowing at 20 knots and gusting higher than that. A few boats had left the anchorage, but there were still at least eight or ten others here so we didn’t want to leave SeaLight unattended for long. I did an early water run to Potters Cay and filled up our five jugs, to the sound of heavy reggae being blasted from a SUV with massive speakers and the owner nowhere in sight. None of the conch shacks were open and the place was mostly deserted, except one dude with a ripped shirt, filthy pants, and dreadlocks encased in a vibrant scarf who dancing to the music as he watched me at the tap.

Late morning we decided to take a short dinghy ride to Atlantis to see if we could find the dinghy dock which we’d heard about but not yet seen. I activated the mirroring on my anchor alarm app so we could see the boat’s position from Ana’s phone and race back in case the anchor dragged with the winds. We were able to zoom through the main channel as there were very few boats out today due to the weather, so the water surface was not boiling with wake as it usually is. We motored slowly into the Atlantis marina and eyeballed all the massive yachts, as all they accept here are massive yachts. This trip we are on is decadent and incredible, but seeing the extravagance of these big boys is otherworldly and, honestly, hard to imagine what that level of wealth would be like. I’d bet on one thing, though – we’re having more fun than them. The dinghy dock was hidden behind three of these monsters and we had to wiggle our way between them to get to it. Once there, we asked the dockmaster if we could leave our dinghy for a while and they said no problem.

Paradise Island doesn’t have a lot on it besides Atlantis, but we hadn’t explored the south side so we walked up the street and found a shopping plaza, a small straw market, a collection of food trucks, and a largish grocery store where most of the shelves were barren and prices of the items they did have were exorbitant, except for the chopped turkey in packages for two bucks a pound (which we couldn’t have fit in our freezer even if we did want it) and a bottle of Dijon mustard which was only four bucks, the cheapest things in the store, and our only purchase.

We stopped at Potters Cay for a final fill of the water jugs then returned to SeaLight for some afternoon cleaning – Ana scrubbed the filthy dingy until it was spotless and I swabbed the decks, then we cleaned the cockpit together, made up the guest bed, cleaned the heads, then vacuumed, but only after Ana gave me a quick haircut. I also invested a bit of time in assembling the food stamps we were awarded at the grocery store on the playing cards they gave us. Since the stamp backs weren’t sticky, and we don’t have a stapler on board, I used the next best adhesive – leftover caulking. It was time well spent as the final product will give us a whopping four dollars in credit the next time we shop there, enough to buy one small avocado or a third of a box of Fruit Loops.

In the evening, between monitoring the boat movements in the anchorage and making dinner (tough New York strips, salad and spiced yuca), we discussed our plan for the journey home. Our friends arrive tomorrow, will stay for a week, then we will sail for the Abacos at the first opportunity, which will likely be the last area of the Bahamas we will explore before starting our return journey northwards.

Our goal moving southwards from Canada was to see as much as possible, explore the towns we passed through, stay ahead of the cooling weather, and time our Florida arrival for Ana’s return flight to Canada for Christmas. That trip from start to finish took ten weeks. Our goal for the return journey is slightly different. We’d like to remain in the warm as long as we can, particularly because the northern winter this year has been so brutal, but our three-month Bahamas cruising permit expires April 6 so we need to be out of the Bahamas by that date. The other date we are working towards is May 1, when Ana returns to work, but the Erie Canal does not open until May 16, so she will have to fly home from wherever we get to by the end of April.

We’ve been told by several other cruisers that the return trip is much faster due to the longer days, fewer stops, and possibility of faster offshore runs, particularly from Bahamas where the Gulf Stream gives you a couple of extra knots of speed. In fact, a couple in a catamaran we met last week said they can make it to New York City in just over a week if they do it in three offshore jumps and the weather cooperates. It’s about 850 nautical miles from Abaco to New York City, which works out to 121 miles per day, which translates to an average speed of 5 knots. It all checks out. We do not need to get there that quickly, but it’s nice to know it’s possible.

Our plan will likely be to do offshore runs where we can and where the weather permits, stop at a few places we missed along the way and others we really enjoyed, and keep chasing the sun, but this time it will be the glorious sun of southern Ontario.

A Slow Day in Nassau and a Leaping Stingray

Nassau – 6 kilometres walked, 2 miles in dinghy

We started the day early, leaving well before 8am for the grocery store to provision the boat for the upcoming week. After getting what we needed we returned to the boat to unload, but as we were riding in the dinghy we saw a stingray leap out of the water, right in front of us, maybe three feet in the air, in a perfect arc, then plunged back into the water. We’d seen glimpses of rays doing this a few times, but never a full view up close. It was incredible.

Our friend Ruth met us at Starbucks for a long coffee date and we told her about our experiences in Eleuthera and our plans for the coming week. We are starting to feel like locals here, grocery shopping, meeting friends for coffee, doing everything locals do except pay bills and go to work.

The small anchorage which we’d previously thought was crowded with three boats now had no less than a dozen anchored vessels, many close together. With the winds shifting north our rudder was getting dangerously close to the shallow water so we repositioned ourselves to give us more depth and lay out another 30 feet of chain as a precaution. What you don’t want is for your anchor to slip in the middle of the night and find yourself blown into shore, frantic in your skivvies trying to motor out of the sand and mud.

I topped up our water tanks from the spare jugs while Ana sanded and stained the wooden rails on the companionway and epoxied some cracks and holes that had appeared on the boat in various places, one on the stern going back to Bimini where we smashed the dinghy into the boat while trying to unground ourselves. We also did a run to Potters Cay to fill up our water jugs from the public tap and met a few of the ragtag but friendly cast of characters who hang around there.

The rest of the day was quiet – we had a long and long overdue call with Kate and Ben, made pasta and fried sweet plantains for dinner, watched part of a movie, then called it a night.

Taking Advantage of Good Sailing Winds

Spanish Wells – 43 nautical miles sailed

With an approaching cold front set to drop temperatures and jack wind speeds, we took advantage of the southeasterlies today to make the run back to Nassau. That’s the thing with sailing, it’s okay to have a general plan, but you have to watch the weather and be ready to change plans without hesitation.

Our friends Dave and Kira arrive on Saturday so we are really hoping the consistently good weather we have been enjoying keeps up, but it does look like a couple of cold fronts are on the horizon, including some rain early next week. No matter what the weather, good company means good times.

We left Spanish Wells around 9am and had an excellent sail, having to use the motor only for a short while as we had both sails up catching the 15 to 17 knot winds the entire way, reaching boat speeds of 8 knots a few times which is close to SeaLight's maximum hull speed. The ride was uneventful – saw some flying fish, but did not get any action on the fishing lures I trailed behind the boat the entire time. I’m starting to think maybe the fish only feed early in the morning or at dusk as my fruitless fishing has been happening in the heat of the day. Or maybe I’m just not cut out for ocean fishing.

The only problem we did have is when we were deploying the headsail it had a sag in it and despite winching it in, I could not get it set right. Then Ana looked up the deck and saw that we had forgotten to close the front hatch and the sheet line was caught in it, applying massive pressure to the hinges. We loosened the sheet, went to the front and untangled it, then got it set properly. Once anchored in Nassau we had a better look at it and found the screws holding down one of the hinges had been ripped out of the deck, leaving a sizeable gap for water to enter. I was able to find some thicker screws, coat them in silicone, then reattach the hatch. Dumping a few buckets of water on it produced no drips so the repair seems to be okay. To prevent a future occurrence I’ve added “Close front hatches if sailing” to my departure checklist.

We were able to claim the same anchorage close to Nassau we had last time, which was a minor miracle as the larger Montague anchorage east of there was closed to boats for a scheduled regatta this weekend, so we were sure it would be full. By the time we were anchored and settled it was already after 4pm so there wasn’t time to do much else besides cook dinner, make a meal plan for our visitors, inventory food on the boat for our provisioning run tomorrow, then sit in the cockpit for an hour, enjoying the night lights and sounds of Nassau. I did manage to catch a picture of the menacing sky monster peeking at me over the top of a boat anchored nearby.

White Bahamians and Scenes From Spanish Wells

Spanish Wells – 8 kilometres walked

We spent the day walking the island and doing a few boat jobs. Dark clouds began circling in the morning, threatening rain all day, but when it did come it was just a sprinkling.

A few images of the day. Kathi frying Johnny Cakes on a cast iron pan while pushing a sheet of dough rolls into the small oven at Kathi’s Bakery, running since 1989, and nothing more than a small addition to her house with a stove, counter, and fridge. Schoolchildren at recess playing in an immaculate schoolyard playground. Three disc golf targets, nestled into a park bordered by a church, a cemetery, and an oasis of palm trees. A box of Fruit Loops at the grocery store for US$9.35. A chicken we startled jumps up and four tiny sat-on chicks appear, hopping, tripping, and scurrying to catch up to their mom. As we walk the tidy streets, every local in a golf cart or car gives us the one or sometimes two finger wave and a nod. A lady in a creamy dress on the porch, senior of seniors, waves at us from her blue house and smiles kindly. Ana straightens up the caulking mess I made in the head as recaulking was overdue. I slide cotter rings into the stainless steel rigging turnbuckles, as the ones previously installed have disappeared. As suggested by the owner, at high tide we stand on the floating dock of our Adventurer Marina under a dropping sun and spray fresh water into the sea, hoping to attract the manatee that regularly lives under the dock. From SeaLight’s cockpit I hear two sonic booms from the SpaceX rocket landing near Eleuthera. Ana wears earbuds and sits at the laptop as she participates in the Newport Yacht Club board meeting until late at night, scratching intermittently at her no-seeum bites.

Spanish Wells is an interesting part of the Bahamas as 80% to 90% of the permanent residents are white. And white Bahamians constitute only 10% of the overall population of the Bahamas. White settlers originally came from England, Ireland, and Scotland, but also the US and other Caribbean islands. Many of the residents of Spanish Wells have a certain common look that is difficult to describe, as is their unusual accent. If you were to run into a Spanish Wellian somewhere else in the world and heard them speaking, you would not have any idea where they were from. It’s an interesting mix of Bahamian patois, British English, and southern American drawl. Ana and I spent many moments here just listening to people talking. It is very different from the black Bahamian accent, which seems fairly consistent across the different islands, but all Bahamians seem to communicate with each other just fine, although visitors don’t have a clue what anybody is saying when they really get going.

Tomorrow we plan to leave the dock at Spanish Wells for one of the nearby anchorages to see if we can find some fish and lobsters.

A Tour of Spanish Wells, Surprise Beach, and a Visit From a Manatee

Spanish Wells – 2 nautical miles sailed, 4 miles in dinghy, 2 kilometres walking, 2 miles by paddleboard

I woke up at my regular time, feeling great. After a bit of writing I took the dinghy out to the reefs north of the anchorage. There was almost no wind as we were between weather systems and the water was flat and beautiful, broken only by the wakes of the passing fishing boats.

The reef was decent but the water clarity was not great, likely churned up by the winds of the past few days. I saw a few fish, but nothing worth shooting at, and could find no sign of lobster. Still, it was good to be in the water as I hadn’t snorkelled for a while.

After breakfast we took the dinghy back into the fuel dock to say goodbye to Catherine and John, who were on their way to Hatchet Bay, Eleuthera to meet up with their friend who lives there and is a caviar and champagne importer. Really. Catherine had texted Ana in the morning and told her they had arranged for a night of free docking for us at the slip they had prepaid for at least another week but wouldn’t be needing it. We’ll take that.

Unfortunately the lobsters had already been unloaded from the lobster boat so we didn't get to see that, but it worked out well as the big boy pulled away just as John and Catherine were arriving. We helped them dock then hung around while they fuelled up and filled their water tanks from the amazing RO system there which is in place primarily for the lobster processing plant, but is also available to cruisers for 50 cents a gallon. I asked the local man filling it about the presence of manatees in Spanish Wells and he told me there were no manatees anywhere in the Bahamas when he was younger, but they’d somehow found their way here over the years, and there were a number of these beautiful sea cows to be found in the channel, even young ones. The prospect of seeing manatees again was thrilling. After our chat, I browsed the seafood store and found grouper, lobster meat, and conch, all for US$20/pound. They also had larger bags of crab claws which were $120. On the top shelf was a giant lobster tail, and a photo of the local lady who had captured the beast just off the reefs here in Spanish Wells a few years before. It was a 14 pound lobster with a tail that weighed over 4 pounds, and they had kept the giant frozen tail trophy in the freezer since then.

After saying goodbye to our new friends and watching them sail down the channel towards the harbour entrance, we dinghy’d over to Pinders Supermarkeet and tied up at the dinghy dock then went for a walk. We visited a few shops, deposited a bag of aluminum cans at the local public school which has a collection facility there (the only such place we’ve discovered in the Bahamas), I picked up a couple of ultra-cheesy Spanish Wells postcards, bought fresh milk, and we found a great book exchange. The town is extraordinarily clean and well kept, and John had told us to avoid locking anything up as the locals are insulted by this. As we walked we saw open doors, keys in golf carts and cars, valuables in the open, no locks anywhere. Small town life still exists.

Ana and I returned to SeaLight, had lunch, then sailed back in and docked at Adventurers marina. A beautiful and protected channel runs through Spanish Wells, creating a mangrove wonderland between it and Russell Island and Charles Island to the south. My poor paddleboard had been suffering from disuse so I removed it from the deck and launched it while Ana ground through some yacht club work in the hot cabin. I paddled all the way to the western end of the channel, passing surfacing turtles and inviting gaps in the mangroves leading to other anchorages, but sadly no manatees. At the end of the channel I was surprised to find a small bridge to Russell Island and an opening to the sea, so I passed beneath the bridge and the channel opened up into a huge and shallow bay with delicious beaches on both sides. I landed the paddleboard on the shallows, becoming shallower by the minute with the dropping tide, and walked through the ankle-deep water for a while, wishing Ana was here with me to see it, then realized I could just go back and get her, so I jumped back on board and paddled back to SeaLight.

We rode the dinghy and when we returned I was surprised to see the shallows I had been walking in had transformed into a massive offshore beach. We pulled the dinghy onto it then walked, first across the sand, then through the shallows which went on and on and on. We crossed through a knee-deep channel back to the mainland where we found two swings suspended from posts mounted into the dry sand, that would become foot-deep water before long. A passing couple offered to take a photograph of us, in an image that is sure to be one of our favourites from the trip.

We had a little swim then got back in the dinghy and motored carefully as the water had become even shallower. As I scanned the bottom, looking for the deepest path, I suddenly saw something large off our bow – a manatee! I cut the engine and stopped the boat. We could see the bubbles breaking on the surface and the swirling patterns in the water from its tail movements as it came towards us. Then, we could see it perfectly – a juvenile manatee, still big, maybe five feet long, but tiny compared to an adult, and already had a few propellor scars on its back plus a smear of blue bottom paint. She passed right beside our boat and we could see her whiskered face so clearly, but also her front flippers, the scars, and her mermaid tail. We floated alongside her for a long time, watching her rooting up sea grass with her nose and sucking it in. We then lost sight of her so I started splashing my hand in the water. Sure enough, she approached again and brought her face right up to my hand where I was able to have the faintest touch on her nose before she had a look at us then descended. We could not believe our luck. We’d seen many manatees back in Vero Beach, but none nearly this close, and her details were just as beautiful as we’d imagined.

The only unfortunate aspect of the experience was that Stella was not here to see it. She would have fallen in love with her.

Harbour Island to Spanish Wells

Harbour Island to Spanish Wells – 13 nautical miles sailed, 2 miles in dinghy

I didn’t even open my eyes until 8:30. I staggered, blurry eyed, to the stove and fired up the kettle, trying to recall if anybody had fallen off the boat last night or if we were all present and accounted for. I wasn’t sure, but the dinghy was up in the davits and there was no sign of disorder so I assumed everything was cool.

The next to surface was Catherine, who joined me in the cockpit and we chatted for a while, enjoying the predictable, but welcome, morning sunshine. Ana arrived next, then John and we assembled in the cabin to recount the evening’s event while Ana and I made pancakes and scrambled eggs.

The breakfast helped the healing process along and soon we were underway, headed back to Spanish Wells after our plundering of Harbour Island. The strong winds east yesterday had shifted south, which was good for our Devil’s Backbone passage, but had left large swells that rolled and rocked the boat as we twisted through the narrow spots with waves breaking on coral on both sides at times. We made it through but it was a little scarier than last time.

Just before entering the narrow channel of Spanish Wells from the east are six mooring balls, but unfortunately all of these were already taken by boats, so instead we pulled up to Ronald’s Service fuel dock which was closed Sundays, hoping we could stay. We tied up the boat, tried calling all the numbers we could find for Ronald with no results, then drove John and Catherine in the dinghy back to their boat, passing at least ten surfacing turtles along the way. There was talk of happy hour at the nearby Wreckers Pub, but everybody was feeling and looking a little spent so I had my doubts.

Ana had a nap in the afternoon while I sat in the cockpit doing some writing, listening to music, and allowing myself to be regularly distracted by the many fishing boats passing by. This is the fishing and lobstering centre of the Bahamas, and a real Bahamian working town as there are no resorts on Spanish Wells, just small guesthouses. As I was tapping on the keyboard a man came up to the boat and said hello. I found out he was Kyle the owner and I apologized for taking up space on his fuel dock but explained we had tried to contact him. He was totally cool and said it would normally be fine for us to stay here but he was expecting a lobster boat to return tonight, with anywhere between 10,000 and 60,000 pounds of lobster tails, and it would required the entire dock. Despite being officially closed on Sunday he was happy to fill up my jerry cans with gasoline for the dinghy and also found me another dock we could rent for the night if we wanted to. We chatted while he filled up the gas and he gave me a rundown of how the lobster boats work, how long they stay out for, and how they catch the lobsters. He was also the owner of the lobster processing plant and seafood store located right behind the fuel dock. I asked if he could give us a tour of the plant, and he said he’d love to but there are strict regulations in place for food processing and non-employees were not allowed within the building. But I did plan to return the next morning to see them offloading the lobster boat.

We sailed out to a nearby anchorage called Gun Point and were admittedly relieved when Happy Hour with Catherine and John was called off due to extreme exhaustion. We enjoyed our quiet night on SeaLight and were asleep earlier than usual. 

A Crazy Day (and Night) On Harbour Island

Harbour Island – 6 miles in dinghy, 4 kilometres walked

It was 3:45 am when John and I flopped back onto SeaLight after a sketchy late night 3-mile dinghy ride, this time to drop off our new friend Chris the music engineer/inventor/solar entrepreneur/bar tour guide at the North Eleuthera dinghy dock. It had been an eventful day in Harbour Island.

After an exceedingly long and slow cockpit breakfast, the four of us packed up our beach gear and took the dinghy into Valentines where I stopped briefly at the dive shop to check the price on a two tank dive - $275, ouch! We then sauntered across the island to the pink sand beach, where we nabbed some beach loungers and sat down to enjoy the heat from the clear skies countered by the cooling breeze blowing in steadily from the east, kicking up the surf and rendering useless the snorkelling gear we had brought along.

I decided on a solo walk so started southwards down the perfect beach. I thought about a lot of things as I walked, enjoying the silence and time to reflect. I watched my feet making perfect impressions in the sand, laying permanent marks on the beach, marks that would be there forever and any future person fortunate enough to walk this perfect beach would see them. But then I stopped, turned, and looked back. A large wave broke low on the beach and the water rushed up the shore. I imagine this to be a generation of life. The ocean water spilled sand into my footprints, but they were still visible. I remained motionless, watching, as a second large wave, another generation of life, broke and ran up the beach, gently filling the rest of the footprints. They were gone. No trace of my visit remained. I imagined those footprints to be the things I do in life, the marks I make on the world, the impact I have on people, my accomplishments, my failures, my victories, my losses. All the things I have done and will ever do, erased and forgotten by the inevitable passage of time. I imagined thousands of footprints of others, like mine, all similarly stamped then washed away. I visualized larger and more significant footprints, left by people of greater consequence than me. These did survive many waves but eventually filled in and disappeared. This is the way of life. This is the way of time. These are the things I thought about as I walked.

After returning to my people and relaxing for a while, I asked Ana what time it was.

“Three.”

“Three??” I asked, shocked, as it felt like noon.

"Three,” confirmed John, then added, “And three rhymes with V!”

So we got up and walked over to Mrs. V’s for a round of cold bevvies and a failed attempt at procuring some deep fried snacks. Along the way we passed a lady walking on the beach.

“I think that’s Brooke Shields,” whispered Ana to Catherine.

“Hmmm, I think you may be right,” she replied as they both looked back. “I thought we’d be more likely to see her on Blue Lagoon Island.”

We decided to head back to SeaLight for an early dinner but stopped at the Rock House to check out details of the sandwich board advertisement for live music tonight. Besides the ancient stone staircase leading up the entrance, there was nothing beautiful about this place, but when we entered, we found an oasis of greenery, an outdoor lounge area, classy restaurant, and James Bond bar with accompanying lap pool with dining tables winding around it. A server told us the local band would be starting sometime around 5:30. We’d be back.

In our absence, Valentine’s had been attacked and overtaken by a mob of pirates, but the pirates were unusually clean, smiling, not covered in blood, and half of them were sexy lady pirates carrying plastic weapons so the whole thing looked suspect. Upon further investigation we learned it was a pirate wedding.

“I wish I could have had a pirate wedding,” I said, with a dreamy look in my eye.

“I didn’t even know it was an option,” said John.

“IT’S NOT!” snapped both of the ladies together. “No bride would ever agree to that,” Ana added.

So who was this mystical, fun-loving, adventurous, one in a million bride that allowed a pirate wedding? John had to know.

“Where’s the bride and groom?” John asked the pirate with a blacked-out tooth, carrying a plastic cutlass.

“No bride. Two grooms.”

It all made sense. We nodded at each other, glad to have solved the mystery, then John and I mentally shelved our plans for pirate-themed vows renewals.

Back at SeaLight, there was a flurry of showers, a frenzy of pork chop cooking, a slashing of vegetables, a mashing of potatoes, and a pouring of wine. Before we knew it, we were back on land, in the dark, heading for Rock House. And it did not disappoint. I looked around as we lounged at the poolside bar, taking a small break from our lively conversation about sailboats, trip planning, and life. Every dining table was full, with privileged resort visitors wearing suits, dresses, and upscale items of clothing far removed from my grey shorts, flip flops, and button-up Hawaiian shirt, third day on. The Edison lights strung from fascia shone a perfect yellow hazy hue on the diners as they cracked lobster, cracked conch, cracked high class jokes, and cracked out their billfolds to pay the stratospheric bills. The barkeepers wore suits and bow ties. The cocktails were outrageously expensive and perfect. The music was carefully curated, far better than the local band in the outdoor entrance gallery whose setlist was flimsy and talents developing. I felt like an intruder, but was not looked upon as one, as everybody was welcome here. But there was more to discover in the darkness of Harbour Island so we left and walked down to the street to The Elbow Room, the watering hole for locals, drawing them in with fantastic music and (slightly) cheaper drinks.

It took about 30 seconds for us to make friends. I sat on the concrete fence talking to a guy from Vancouver who had lived all over Canada, then France for 12 years, then Miami, then back to Europe, then had settled in North Eleuthera a decade ago and ran a small construction company. My three companions met an outlandish Scottish couple who’d been living here for thirty years. The wife was a close talker, maintained an authentic Scottish accent despite leaving there at the age of six, and had an enthusiastic chest that wanted to reach out and touch someone, and frequently did. More people came, mostly locals but some visitors too, and it became a beehive of activity with golf carts haphazardly abandoned on the street. We met Chris, an American turned local, who latched onto us and told tales of solar panel entrepreneurship, inventing CLASP musical recording technology, engineering albums for KISS and Aerosmith, writing music, and hanging out regularly with his neighbour Lenny Kravitz. He sounded like a world class bullshitter, then as he was scanning his phone to show us photos of his lovely three young daughters, I couldn’t help but notice one of him with Lenny in a recording studio, one of him with Gene and Paul, and one of him with the whole Aerosmith band standing behind a table holding the Stanley Cup. This was one interesting dude.

Chris suggested we go next door to The Landing as he'd always found it a good place to meet interesting people. What we found there was another classy bar, with dozens of tables of rich folk dining, another sublime lap pool, and the airbrushed iconic image of the owner’s mom – a previous Miss Bahamas, in a fabulous afro, stamped everywhere. Here, we had drinks, got more details on Chris’s interesting life, spoke for length to a young local teen in a spectacular purple sweatsuit about life in Harbour Island, and ran into the husband of Brooke Shields, who apologized for his wife not being there, as she had just traveled and wasn’t feeling up to it. We also got wind of a live concert this evening, at a place called Vic-Hum, where a reggae band was supposed to be playing but DJ Khaled was expected to drop by as well.

We hit a juncture as we left The Landing. Where next? Catherine seemed to be nosing in the direction of the dinghy. Ana wasn’t sure. John and I just stood there, pleasantly pissed.

“Who’s taking the lead here?” asked Ana.

“Not me,” said John. “I’m just following, not making any decisions.”

“Me neither. I'll just follow the fun,” I said, nodding at John.

“Well…” said Ana, struggling.

“Let’s go back to the The Elbow Room,” said Chris. Nobody disagreed. Everybody followed.

There we had more drinks, met more people, including a dashing local dude named Melvin, and grooved to the fast flowing beats in the hotbed of activity. The evening breeze was warm, the lighting was perfect, we kept meeting more people, and time had lost all meaning.

“Time to move on,” announced Chris. “We’re going to Gusty’s, jump in a golf cart!” Suddenly half the people in the bar headed for the street and piled into randomly selected golf carts and took off. Chris found an empty seat on one. The four of us weren’t sure what to do until Melvin came wheeling by, alone. “Jump in,” he said. We claimed seats and held on as Melvin moved at top speed through the paved then gravel streets, dodging potcake dogs, chickens, and other golf carts piloted by drunken drivers.

To everybody’s shock, Gusty’s was closed, so the parade of carts rattled down a different street to reach club Vic-Hum, where every single person on Harbour Island under the age of 50 had gathered. There was a queue, security guards frisking people, and people of all stripes, shapes, and sizes carrying drinks and goofing around. We’d learned the tickets were fifty bucks, but Chris said he knew the owner and could get us in for free. Well, he couldn’t find the owner and folks in the crowd told us the show wasn’t even going to start for another hour or two and it was already well after midnight.

We looked to our tour guide. He was trying to procure a marijuana joint but could find no sellers.

“Chris,” Ana said. “Let’s go back to our boat for more drinks.”

“OK, but if you see anybody selling joints along the way, just let me know,” he said, then took the lead and we followed him through dark, narrow streets which popped up right back at Valentines, which was now, like everywhere else on the island except Vic-Hum, dark and deserted.

The party continued in SeaLight’s cockpit as we drank rum and cokes, warm beer (had forgotten to stock fridge) and wine as Chris entertained us with tales of his exploits with Lenny Kravitz, showed us videos of him and Gene Simmons in the studio, and listened to one of the tracks he’d been working on for his album. Time had not regained any meaning.

The girls slipped away around 2:30am and we stayed up a bit longer with Chris then jumped in the dinghy for the sketchy ride across the choppy bay to drop him off at the ferry dock on North Eleuthera. We said our sloppy goodbyes, bounced and sloshed back across the bay, then crossed the finish line for the day at precisely 3:45 am, setting a new late night record for our epic trip, thereby making it even more epic.

Navigating the Devil’s Backbone to Harbour Island

Meeks Patch to Spanish Wells to Harbour Island – 13 nautical miles sailed, 1 mile in dinghy, 5 kilometres walked

We’ve gotten ourselves worked up a few times on this trip based on information we’ve sourced from Facebook and other online forums. One was the availability of water in the Bahamas, which was said to be scarce, expensive, and of poor quality. We’ve found the exact opposite. Another was the horrors of crossing the Gulf Stream. We chose a less than ideal weather window, but it really wasn’t that bad. A third was the exorbitant cost of things in the Bahamas. Well, Nassau groceries, meals, and drinks are no more expensive than what we found in south Florida. And many things are cheaper.

Then, there’s the Devil’s Backbone. This is a stretch of densely packed coral reefs and rocks that run along the north coast of Eleuthera and must be transited to reach the renowned settlement of Harbour Island. The majority of cruising guides and online discussions strongly advise hiring a local pilot for $150 to guide you through the passage. I reviewed the recommended track and did not see anything worse than many of the tricky passages we’ve made on this trip in both the Bahamas and through tight spots on the ICW. But still…we were hesitant.

I checked the wind forecast for the day, which called for steady east winds, which are favourable for this passage. I looked at the tides and found that if we left around 10:30 we’d get more than half a tide which would boost depths by two feet plus the overhead mid-day sunlight would make it easy to spot coral heads. The trip was a go!

There’s no more pleasurable way to start your day than by climbing a sailboat mast. I ascended the aluminum spar like an aged chimpanzee as Ana cranked on the winch to pick up the slack on the halyard attached to my bosun's chair. I reached the first spreader where I reconnected the faulty shroud turnbuckle then secured it with cotter rings, and did the same on the other side. Job done, no drama.

We pulled the anchor and motored over to near the entrance to Spanish Wells harbour, reanchored, then I dinghy’d over to sailing vessel Adventure to pick up John and Catherine, dodging the many turtles along the way as they popped their green heads up for a gulp of air. As experienced boaters, John and Catherine had packed all the right stuff – fresh vegetables, small soft backpacks, and a bunch of beer and wine.

After a quick tour of SeaLight and group review of the proposed route we were off. John shared the same opinion that the passage simply did not look that difficult. So with three independent devices and eight eyes tracking our course, we began the trip. As we approached the Devil’s Backbone I was expecting to encounter walls of jagged coral reaching up from the sea in all directions, menacing rock spikes, limestone towers of ancient rock dropping shards into the water, skewering any passing boats. But to nobody’s surprise, it was easy. There was no exposed coral and we simply followed the recommended magenta line on the chart and it was spot on. I didn’t even see any depths under twelve feet until we had passed the end of it and sailed into the shallow harbour. The route took us quite close to shore, but not nearly as close as we had sailed leaving Cape May, where there were jagged and dangerous rocks on shore which I could have hit with a tossed lemon. And not nearly as tight as some of the hairpin curves on the ICW where we were persistently close to grounding. And far easier than many of the of the narrow, scary, rocky, and shallow passages we twisted through in the North Channel and Georgian Bay. Any sailor who has made it this far, and chooses a good weather day, should have no trouble in the least with this passage.

We anchored in a beautiful spot close to Valentines Marina (appropriate, for Valentine’s Day) then had a light lunch in the cockpit as we visited. John and Catherine are from New Jersey and have been ocean sailors for decades. We quickly found we have many things in common – love of travel, liberal political views, similarly aged kids, a very similar return sailing plan, and some shared annoyances. The conversation was easy as we bounced from topic to topic.

We took the dinghy into Valentines, passing a couple of nurse sharks sucking up snacks from the sea bottom, and tied up at their free dock. Harbour Island is known for its pink sand beaches, cute streets, golf carts, and classic island vibe. I visited here once, many years ago, but I really didn’t remember much about it besides my first introduction to the “nail game” at a local bar where they had strung a small wire loop from a string and you had to swing it just right to latch it onto a hook on the wall. I played it for hours.

Our first big decision after walking up past the bar and onto the skinny street was right or left. We chose right, and soon saw a sign as a cross street saying “Rest of Island This Way <--”. As we walked we were passed by dozens of golf carts, driven by both locals and visitors. There was a much greater density of development here compared to what we’d seen in the Exumas – many shops, restaurants, service companies, schools, and well maintained houses painted with vibrant colours. We reached the beach and bought a round of drinks from Mrs. V’s then sat at her shaded picnic tables to enjoy the view. Now the famous pink sand beach is not a vibrant pink flamingo colour as we were expecting, but upon walking along the water the pink colour becomes apparent, especially the part of the beach where the waves slide up and down and little trails of pink flour sand tickle your toes.

We walked a good distance on the beach then cut in at a resort high on a hill where we stopped for another drink and to enjoy the spectacular ocean views. The entire shoreline is protected by a thick reef which breaks up the waves and provides for unusually calm water, perfect for swimming. Tomorrow may have to be a beach day.

Our slow wanderings took us through many streets in Harbour Island and we found a series of free public taps (which I plan to use Sunday before our return trip to top up our water tanks) near the small Fish Fry and Straw Market.

With our first small taste of Harbour Island we returned to SeaLight for an unusually long and immensely enjoyable sundowner, then got to work on a late dinner, where we all pitched in – I mixed up fritter batter and sauce and hammered down then minced the stubborn rubber conch meat, Ana made coleslaw, Caribbean rice, and fried the fritters, Catherine chopped all the vegetables, and John finished things up with searing rich salmon filets on a hot pan with a blanket of fresh organic bok choy and onions. What a feast! Our cockpit dinner was long, slow, and tastefully decorated with springy conversation and views of the colourful lights glowing from the bars, restaurants, and resorts along the shoreline.

By 10:30 I was finished so I slipped away to bed while the others finished up their tea, putting the wraps on a magnificent day.

ANA + KRIS

Nassau to Spanish Wells – 40 nautical miles sailed, 6 miles in dinghy

The anchor was lifted at 9:30 and we began the 40 mile sail to Spanish Wells, Eleuthera, maneuvering east out of the Nassau harbour then northwards around Athol Island, Blue Lagoon Island, Rose Island, and Chub Rock, being careful to avoid the many reefs and dozens of tourist boats zipping around at speed. The area around Nassau is very, very busy with boat traffic at all hours of the day so diligent attention is needed. Once out of the frenzy, we set a course for Spanish Wells which took us across an open stretch of the ocean where depths plunged into the thousands of feet. I set my fishing line in the hopes of finally landing a worthy game fish…but none took the bait. We did succeed in finally seeing a pod of dolphins, which Ana spotted far off our port side, right in the middle of the deepest water, which was surprising as we had become accustomed to seeing them closer to shore in shallower and busier areas of the ICW and coastal areas of the US. We also saw dozens of flying fish and managed to capture a short video of a few of them flying around. These fish are truly incredible and able maintain flight for far longer than one would expect. I was hoping one would fly up and land on our deck so we could have a closer look, but they kept their distance.

Around 3:30 we arrived at an anchorage at Meeks Patch, an island just south of Spanish Wells that provided good protection from the still strong southeast winds. Along the way one of the upper shrouds in our rigging had come loose and was banging around for a while but finally got wrapped around the mast and lodged itself tight. I must have forgotten to attach cotter rings to this turnbuckle when I assembled the mast back in the spring at Niagara-On-The-Lake Sailing Club, which felt like three eternities ago. Fortunately, we had been sailing with just the jib and not the main, which would have added much more stress on the rigging, so I wasn’t overly worried about it and expected to be able to go up the mast and fix it once we were in settled waters.

Ana had received a message on Noforeignland from a couple we had met way back in North Carolina – John and Catherine on sailing vessel Adventure. They were docked in Spanish Wells and invited us over for a visit. After a quick swim, and after getting hit with a huge wake from a dumbass and careless powerboater who rapidly deaccelerated his boat right beside ours, creating the largest wave possible, we got in the dinghy and started the nearly three mile crossing. Once rounding Meeks Patch we were hit with large waves built up over the stretch of the bay to North Eleuthera and it was a splashy ride, but we did manage a selfie and spilled our drinks and nearly swamped the dinghy in the process of capturing it.

John and Catherine welcomed us aboard their lovely Hans 40’ and we spent a couple of hours chatting over drinks and snacks as we watched the many turtles in the channel bobbing their heads up and down. Though we’d only met them once before, they felt like good friends, and we had an amazing time as we caught up on each other’s movements in the preceeding months. So amazing in fact, that we hatched a plan to travel together in SeaLight to Harbour Island through the dreaded Devil’s Backbone passage the following day. We left their boat around 8:30, vowing for us to all think on the plan then reconnect tomorrow to confirm if we wanted to proceed. By the time we reached the boat, after cruising at top dinghy speed over surprisingly calm waters beneath the light of a full moon, we’d already heard back from them saying they’d love to go. We were thrilled at the prospect of a new adventure as we’d been reluctant to undertake this passage on our own. Eight eyes are better than four.

As we were eating dinner, Ana showed me a message and photo she had just received from Marie, Corey, and Alice, our friends who were still in at the mooring field in Fort Lauderdale. Marie and Alice had been going through some of their trip photos and found an interesting one they had taken in a lock in the Erie Canal, months before we had met them, but shortly after we ourselves had passed through that same lock.

ANA + KRIS

Stella Goes Home

Nassau – 2 miles in dinghy, 6 kilometres walked, 20 miles by car

Today we said goodbye to our beautiful daughter Stella and put her on a plane headed back to Canada, with a nasty winter storm bearing down on Toronto. There were some nail biting moments as her departure was delayed several times, but in the end she left 90 minutes late and arrived safely in Toronto. As luck would have it, my dad and step-mom were staying at an airport hotel for the evening on their way back to Saskatoon so were able to put her up for the night instead of her other grandfather and uncle have to do a slow and dangerous drive through the storm to meet her. Instead they will pick her up tomorrow morning when the roads have been cleared and the storm has passed. Welcome back to Canadian winter Stella!

We started the day with a big breakfast of pancakes, blueberries, and maple syrup then Stella went flat and absorbed a few last moments of precious Bahamian sunshine before we dinghy’d into shore to meet our ride. Ana put together a bag of snacks for her and I made sure she had the authentic Barnum's Animal Crackers with its classic box and carrying handle which I had found in a shop the day before, returning me immediately to childhood when my folks would buy these as a treat for us. Stella was thrilled with the gift and promised to send us a photo of her eating one of the cookies on the airplane.

Ruthie picked us up and fought through what seems to be consistently busy Nassau traffic, before the less congested stretch to the airport. We were surprised to see the old dark, dank, and deteriorated airport has been completely razed and a brand new modern and beautiful one stood in its place. Ana and I joined Stella for the check-in and Ana insisted on watching her pass through security and the scanners as we waved like dorky parents, and Stella was kind enough to wave back.

We are going to miss her so much. This time together on the boat has been a real gift for all of us. I don’t think many people get to spend so much quality time with their 18-year-old and we are eternally thankful for it. A couple of day ago she found out she had been accepted into both programs she had applied for at the University of Guelph and was thrilled as that’s the school many of her friends go to and the one she seems to have had her heart set on. She was also accepted at McMaster and still waiting to hear back from Laurier in Waterloo but I can only assume she’ll be accepted there too. So she left here in a good place – a part-time job to return to, excellent prospects for a summer job, and an educational path forward for the next four years. We are so proud of our kids.

Ruth had organized a quick video call after the airport drop off with three folks I had worked with at Shell, including Eddy who I had spoken with yesterday. We had a great little chat and couldn’t help but feel astonished that all these people I feel like I was working with yesterday are now at the end of their careers, and either retired or close to it. It reminded me of how many people I’ve worked with over the years and how it is possible (and easy) to rekindle those relationships.

Ana, Ruth, and I stopped for coffee at a huge and new Starbucks in the Harbour Bay Shopping Plaza, just a ten minute walk from the marina. We vowed not to tell Stella and Anna about this place as they had been walking 30 minutes downtown to what they thought was the closet one, and to make it worse, this plaza had dozens of other shops they could have explored. Oh well, next time.

I did my best to convince Ruth to join us on the boat for dinner, and just when I thought I had her, she got spooked when Ana mentioned the shaky and barnacle-encrusted ladder at the marina dock she’d have to climb down to drop into the dinghy, then the Herculean Leap of Faith or Sea Lion Belly Crawl (your choice) that was necessary to get from the dinghy onto the boat, then having to do all that in reverse in darkness with pitching seas, as a non-swimming Bahamian. Ana’s revised and admittedly superior plan was for us to find a marina we could dock at next time we were in town to make the dinner party less perilous. All agreed and we said goodbye to our buddy once again.

From here, Ana and I retrieved the laundry and grocery bags from the boat then walked up the hill to the laundromat then picked up a few small things in preparation for our anticipated departure to Eleuthera tomorrow.

SeaLight is back to its crew of two.