Warderick Wells Cay – Incredible Snorkelling, Boo-Boo Hill, and Sundowner with New Friends

Staniel Cay to Warderick Wells – 18 nautical miles sailed, 6 miles in dinghy, 3 kilometres walked, 500 metres snorkelled

We were sad to leave Staniel Cay as it had become one of our favourite spots in the Exumas, but leave we did, and by late morning we were anchored in Warderick Wells, the park headquarters for the Exumas Land and Sea Park. Here, we were hoping to do some hiking and snorkelling in this protected national park where all fishing, hunting, and any sort of sea creature collection or perturbation is forbidden.

Ana took care of piloting while I retrieved my snap kit and fixed a bunch of the nylon straps and snaps we use to hold the rolled-up canvas side panels in the cockpit in place. The damn snaps had been failing since I first installed them, irritating me to no end, so I finally took the time to fix them.

The Warderick Wells anchorage bay is huge so we snugged up as close to the western shore as our draft allowed, which was still quite far out, then got our gear together and took the dinghy into the park office to pay the mandatory anchoring fees. The park office building is a stylish, wooden building, perched on a small outcropping overlooking the bay. From here you can see into the north mooring, which is a perfectly arced channel anchorage running through deepish blue water with shallow banks on one side and a perfect beach on the other. You have probably seen an image of this anchorage online - I expect if you search “Exumas, Bahamas” it will likely appear.

We paid our fees, picked up paper sheets detailing the local snorkelling spots and island trails, then set out on a hike to Boo-Boo Hill, but first walked onto Whale Beach to see the sun-bleached sperm whale skeleton on display there, resting on wooden cradles.

Just minutes into the hike we came across another family, a couple with two young girls. We started chatting and discovered they were from Wales, had recently bought a 43’ catamaran in West Palm Beach, and were just two weeks into their two-year sailing adventure. We connected with them right away and walked together on the rough and rocky trail, through a rapidly depleting tidal marsh, then up a bushy path to the top of Boo-Boo Hill. There, we found hundreds, if not thousands, of wooden marker boards left by previous sailors. Some were elaborately decorated, even laser cut or CNC’d, while others were simply boat names scribbled on driftwood with paint or a black marker. Many had deteriorated past the point of being readable, but others were fresh, and we recognized many boat names of sailors we’d either met or seen on the Noforeignland app. It seems everybody makes this stop but sadly we did not have a SeaLight marker to leave behind, but we will be sure to do so next time. The view from the top of the hill over the geometrically beautiful anchorage was stunning, as was the view to the Atlantic which was surprisingly calm today. We walked a bit further to see the blowholes which were, unfortunately, dry as a whale bone as the Atlantic ocean was not angry enough to provide the massive swell to power the violent explosions of water up and through the rock tubes.

We made a plan to meet for a sundowner on Whale Beach then the ladies and I went snorkelling in the bay, at Judy’s Reef, where we saw not just colourful and plentiful coral, but more fish than we’d seen anywhere, and much larger ones. I saw at least three giant Nassau Grouper, squirrel fish three times the size I’d seen anywhere else, plus a sizeable reef shark. Conch were plentiful and patterned the sand bottom with their trails. A posterboard at the park office said that conch populations in the park were thirteen times greater here than other areas in the Bahamas, and served as a massive nursery for the creatures, providing a staggering number of adult conch who migrate yearly from the park, in the neighbourhood of three million. The same was true for spiny lobsters and game fish who grew up in the safety of the park then ventured out to either outfox fishermen or get slaughtered. Best to stay in the park, fellas.

We returned to SeaLight to dump our gear, get drinks and snacks, clean up a bit, then returned to Whale Beach just as the sun was dipping down behind the park building. Our Welsh friends Ollie and daughters Lara and Zenna arrived a few minutes after that, but their mom Katie decided to hang back at the boat to enjoy a rare spot of alone time.

The girls latched onto Stella immediately as all young kids do and kept her busy exploring the beach and bushes and telling her stories of their adventures so far plus the life they had left in Wales. Ana, Ollie, and I sat at a surprisingly new picnic table beneath a pavillion and had a great chat. As we talked, from the corner of my eye I spotted something moving in the bushes. I snuck over to investigate and found a small, brown, woodchuck-like creature poking around in the crunchy palm leaves. I called the girls over to see, and one of them let out a high pitched scream when the creature began walking towards her, sending the poor little bugger sprinting into the bushes. I was sure that would be the end of the show, but within minutes it came back, then another, then another, and soon we were surrounded by them. I don’t know what they were (no internet signal in the park to look it up...but found out later they are called "hutias") but I do remember reading somewhere that there is one native mammal on some of the islands. The girls had a lot of fun getting close to them and taking photos, and the animals were not scared, so probably used to foraging the food droppings from beachgoing visitors.

After darkness fell and the half moon rose, providing a mesmerizing glow over the shallows of the bay, we said goodbye to our new friends and began paddling out to deeper water. As I was about to start the engine we heard a young voice from across the water say, “Bye Stella! We’ll miss you!”