Black Point – 7 nautical miles sailed, 1 kilometre walked, 3 miles in dinghy, several metres snorkelledI don’t know what happened with the Bahamian climate last night, but it somehow rained everywhere, all at once, without raining. It was as if the air released all its moisture, like a squeezed sponge. Despite having closed up all the panels in the cockpit, the cushions and pillows were drenched. Good thing Magnus wasn’t still with us sleeping out there, as he would have had a very soggy evening.
We pulled anchor and left Staniel Cay shortly after 7 am. It was a bright morning, with a decent breeze blowing from the southeast, the direction we were headed. We decided to take the Exuma Sound route, which is the outside and normally less sheltered path, but the wind direction today ran parallel to the Exumas, making it neither better nor worse. We motored between the islands of the Grotto, northwards for a bit, then turned east and through the Big Rock Cut, which was boiling with tidal current, so we did not move fast. Once in the ocean we turned southeast and were on our way. I pulled out our fishing hand line, attached the wooden plug I picked up in Fort Lauderdale, and tossed it out back then secured the end of it to a cleat. The line was thick monofilament, likely 300 lb test, with a rubber snubber at the end to absorb the impact of a big fish strike. Well, I trolled that thing for six miles, all the way to Dotham Cut, but did not get any action. Still, it was nice to test it out for the first time, and we’ll be doing more of this.
We motored into the cut, around a point of land, and dropped the hook in the expansive anchorage at Black Point Harbour. First order of business? Water. We had extinguished our first full tank of water last night, the 70 gallons of which had lasted five days – a usage rate of 3.5 gallons (13.5 litres) per person per day, which seemed neither frugal nor excessive. The Noforeignland app showed a water source just across the bay from us, so I emptied our spare jugs into the tank then Ana and I took off in the dinghy to find it. The bay was very shallow, but we were able to motor across most of it and only had to lift the engine for the last part.
We beached the dinghy, walked up a path to the road, and saw two other cruisers across the street in the cemetery – a good sign. We walked over to find a black pipe with a valve, simply sticking out of the ground at the edge of the cemetery. The couple were from Montreal and we chatted for a while. They had been using this water and said the quality was excellent. I stuck the hose into one of our jugs, opened the valve and a violent torrent of clean, fresh water shot out, filing the 6 gallon jug in under 20 seconds.
“That’s like a Montreal firehouse!” I exclaimed, giddy with joy.
After two additional trips, our boat tanks were full, my arms were lengthened, and my vertebrae compressed, so Ana and I celebrated with a zero-gravity ocean swim and shampoo then we gathered up the girls to explore Black Point. We stopped first at the water point, as the Quebeccers had told us there was a blue hole nearby, so we walked a short distance and found something, but I think “blue hole” got lost in translation, as it was actually a blow hole, and quite neat as it gurgled then shot out water whenever a large ocean surge rolled in. Here the girls found a couple of hermit crabs, and Anna also captured a small lizard in her hands, which escaped and ran up the length of her arm before being flung a great air distance into a rock pile.
We rode the dinghy along the shoreline into the nearby settlement and tied up at the government dock, surprised to see nurse sharks and stingrays just beneath us, hoping for a fish gut snack. A road from the dock led into town, and we noticed another free water tap, with a cruiser there filling up a blue jug. Further on we found a small but surprisingly well stocked grocery store where we bought two blackened and fully ripe plantains and a stick of deodorant from the lovely lady working there. A few doors down we found what is considered to be the best laundromat in the Caribbean (but closed on Sundays) and a place that looked like an internet café, but upon closer inspection was a sports betting venue. Ana and the girls were in search of wifi to get Stella’s replacement phone set up (we’d given up hope on her old one), so they spoke to the person working there and she asked them to return in an hour or so and she’d give them the wifi password and use of chairs and a desk in the air-conditioned facility.
The next order of business was an afternoon drink at Lorraine’s Café, situated high on a deck overlooking the ocean. It was a lovely spot, made better by the two resident cats who stretched, lingered, and napped on the deck as we enjoyed our cold drinks and watched the boats coming and going. As we were leaving, two fisherman pulled up with a boatful of catch and they began tossing dozens of plump snapper onto the rocks, plus a bunch of sizeable conch, all of which were for sale.
We decided to return to the boat and as we reached the government dock we found another two fisherman tied up and tallying their catch. These gents had fresh lobsters, and lots of them. I chatted with the captain for a while and he told me the lobsters were typically down about 25 feet and you wouldn’t find them anywhere in the shallows. They catch them by diving down and spearing them or just pulling them out of the crevices. But like a good fisherman, he didn’t offer up any specific locations. I asked him how much for the lobsters.
“Depends on the size,” he said as he tossed another giant lobster onto the growing pile on the dock.
“Well, we’d need enough to feed the four of us,” I replied, pointing to my crew.
“Depends on how much they eat,” he said.
“Well, take a look at them,” I said as I pointed to the skinny 18-year-olds. “Not much.”
“Two large ones would be enough,” he said.
“How much would those cost?” I said, trying to pry out information. The captain looked at the first mate, who looked at us, then the pile of lobster, then said, “Forty.”
“Forty for both?” I asked.
“Each.”
Well my quick mental arithmetic gave me a total of 80 Bahamian/American dollars which translated into $120 Canadian, which was not the bargain we were hoping for. We passed on the offer, hoping the mate would come chasing after us with a reduced price, but they simply continued what they were doing. Lobsters are a hot commodity here, so I guess I'd have to find my own.Back at SeaLight I decided to go snorkeling while the ladies killed flies in the cabin. We had not seen a housefly in weeks, maybe months, but this anchorage was inexplicably swarming with them, and they had infiltrated the boat. The ladies armed themselves with fly swatters, rolled-up magazines, and even a vacuum, then commenced the slaughter.
The ocean bottom was clear sand with little structure and not likely much to see, so I began swimming the decently long distance towards land hoping to find some coral. As I was halfway there I noticed a big barracuda ahead of me. Then another. A whole line of them. I’d never seen these fish in groups before, normally it’s a singleton prowling the water. I stopped my forward progress and looked back towards the boat. A chill shot down my spine as a saw a line of barracuda there too, surrounding me, pretending not to notice me but glancing over frequently, sizing me up. Now I was getting worried. I was relieved that I had taken off my chain and rings before coming in the water as these tend to attract barracuda aggression, but was feeling very much like a school of edible fish and I had a feeling they were thinking the same thing. I started fanning myself backwards using my hands but keeping my movements to a minimum. I then turned and swam slowly towards the boat, kicking gently. As I did this, the flanking barracudas now in front of me parted, and gave me a path forward. I kept my neck craned backwards and watched them as they slowly disappeared from view. The ocean is not a lake.
I called the snorkelling quits as the girls were nearly ready to go back into town to work on Stella’s phone. Stella and Anna got into the dinghy safely, which was bouncing around with the swells, but when Ana stepped onto it, a wave came through, pushed it over, and she lost her footing and fell into the water. She bounced back up immediately holding her bag in the air saying, “Grab my phone!!” I took it and threw it on the table then made sure she was okay and had a good hold on the boat ladder. I then opened the bag and found only a small bit of water had penetrated it. What we did not need were two dead phones, but it seemed disaster was averted and the only casualty was a soggy wife and a salty, wet dress. Anna saw Ana’s watch balancing precariously on the edge of the boat so I grabbed that, then Stella spotted Ana’s sunglasses on the bottom so I dove down and grabbed those too.
Somehow Ana was back in five minutes, with fresh clothes, lovely hair, and looked as ravishing as she did before, so it really made me wonder how that process typically takes 90 minutes at home. I didn’t ponder that thought for long, preferring to keep the weird and wonderful world of women an enduring mystery.
With Stella's replacement phone fully configured, and a happier Stella, we finished the day with a delicious dinner of Portuguese chops, fried sweet plantain, rice, and salad then watched a creepy horror movie (Talk To Me) together in the cabin. I surprised myself by staying awake for more than half of it.
