Hope Town - A Lighthouse, A Postcard Beach, A Paradise Pizza, and Reclaimed Sunglasses

Hope Town – 9 nautical miles sailed, 3 miles in dinghy, 8 kilometres walked, 100 metres swum

I dreamed last night that I returned to SV Waddington for a search and recovery dive mission and not just found my sunglasses, but the ocean water, sand, and sewage particles from the boat dumping their holding tanks had restored them to their original beauty, somehow repairing all the little scratches that had built up on the lenses over time. Naturally, immediately after waking up I took the dinghy over to Waddington with my dive gear and started looking. By the time Ben had jumped in the water to help me I had located them (some of my dignity was lying there on the ocean bed beside them; I just left that), but upon close inspection, the scratches remained. At least part of the dream came true.

We lifted the hook and motored over to the Conch Inn fuel dock where we topped up the diesel and filled the water tanks. All the cruisers have these little water testing devices that tells you how many parts per million of particles are present. The US guideline is to avoid anything over 600. This water was 1000. But after living in countries where meat is sold off hooks and a covering of flies on a mackerel at the fish stand is a good sign, I am not a great believer in guidelines where safety levels go way beyond what is just safe and border on insisting we consume only what is laboratory-clean to avoid the one in a million chance somebody gets a tummy ache. My test is to sniff it then taste it and if that checks out we are good to go. And this water was about a thousand times more delicious than the yellowish, clotted, murky substance we used to drink from my grandpa’s well in Foam Lake, Saskatchewan. It tasted of mallards and frog ass. Yet, we survived.

We motored back through the Marsh Harbour anchorage, threading past a Bahamas Customs boat with agents who were boarding vessels anchored there, and out into the bay, then crossed over to Elbow Cay, with the tide in our favour as we skimmed over the shallows west of the island looking for deeper water to anchor in. Sailing vessels Waddington and Domino were already there, and soon we had all dinghy’d into the Hope Town dock, ready to climb the last remaining kerosene-powered and manually operated lighthouse in the world.

The view from the top was magnificent and unbelievable. And by unbelievable, I mean the vistas looked AI generated and not real. Perhaps it was all built by a child? Toy boats floated on impossibly shallow waters, painted acrylic with shades of blue. Lego houses and docks made of matchsticks circled the bay, dug with a child’s hand, and the channel leading into it scraped out with a finger. Trees were bunches of moss, packed onto a piece of plywood holding the whole scene. The sky was phony blue with a few cotton balls for cumulous clouds, hanging from invisible fishing line to project authenticity. The pathways cut through the town were far too narrow for cars and wound artfully around the cardboard homes and shops.

Yet, after descending the lighthouse and taking the dinghies into town, we realized quickly that it was all real.

Remember how Ana had been telling everybody we know that Spanish Wells was the cutest and cleanest town in the Bahamas? Well, she had to call them all back a few days ago to let them know she’d made a mistake and Man-O-War Cay was actually the cutest and cleanest town in the Bahamas. After a leisurely stroll through town, walking down those slim and wonderful pedestrian pathways as they looped around the vibrantly-painted homes and businesses, she picked up her phone and started calling everybody we know saying the cutest and cleanest town in Bahamas was actually Hope Town.

The girls stopped to check out each boutique or gift shop, browsing the colourful clothing and tourist souvenirs. Ben and I pushed ahead of the group and found a picture perfect promenade with two chairs looking out to the sea, calling us to sit a while. We sat down and the serenity and beautify of the place overwhelmed us. We had a moment. And one of our sinister travel mates captured it on digital media.

We crossed the town to the Atlantic side and found, big surprise, an expansive and perfect beach with just a handful of people there. Tomorrow, we would return with swimming and snorkelling gear. Today, we could only wade in up to our knees and enjoy the cool water and pink flour sand between our toes.

Moving southward, the pathway turned into the Queen’s Highway, and it looked more like a highway than the last one we encountered, which could barely handle golf carts. We walked for a long while, aiming for a pizza place Ben had found on the map. Halfway there, a local lady stopped her golf cart and offered the three empty seats to the most beautiful of our group, leaving the smelly men to walk the rest of the way.

I love pizza, but have found reason to not trust pizza anywhere outside of the US or Canada. They just don’t make it right, and that includes Italy where they stubbornly refuse to put pineapple on pizza. In Central America they put corn niblets on it, loads of corn, and the cheese is gross. In the rest of Europe, it’s too thin, too stingy on ingredients, and way too expensive. In Asia? Forget about it. They don’t know how to make dough, then even when they do they put way too many fishy things on the pizza. I had my doubts that Bahamians were capable of making good pizza.

After nearly an hour wait, the pizza was ready and…it was incredible. It helped that we had found comfy chairs and a table shaded by tropical trees at the small café next door, which was closed, but the owner let us stay as long as we gave him the pizza leftovers and kept the ears and head of his trusty dog well scratched. We lounged there for a very long time, not wanting to leave.

It wasn’t until 5:30 that we made it back to the dinghies and all agreed that another day in Hopetown was in order.

Ana and I returned to SeaLight, went for a refreshing swim, made a few calls to folks back home, then retired for the evening after another magnificent day in the Bahamas.