Month: April 2020

Maneuvering around rocks and shifting sand bars, we slowly made our way to Bell Island where we dropped anchor in the pristine turquoise waters to have lunch. Reading somewhere that the island was owned by Johnny Depp, we tried to come up with a plan to go ashore the private island without getting into a real life Pirates of the Caribbean situation. Not wanting to risk the outcome of trespassing, we observed what we could see (which was not much) of the property through our binoculars. Realizing the tide and the current had shifted, we decided to move the boat to O’Brien Cay which was extremely shallow but would provide all around protection from the swells. We were headed to snorkel “The Aquarium” off Soldier Cay not far away. Duane was super excited as we gathered our gear and motored over to the area. We tied Baby Belle off to a mooring ball which was perfectly situated so I didn’t have to expend too much effort swimming through the current and it also kept the dinghy close enough in case I needed a fast escape. What we saw below the water surface could easily rank as one of the greatest wonders of the world in our opinion. Majestic fish of all shapes, sizes and colors surrounded us…even what looked like little baby swordfish darted around. There were sea sponges growing intertwined with boundless coral formations and sea fans in purple and yellow hues were abundant. Nothing I have ever seen before could compare to what was before us and we were lost in the magnificence of it all so much so that I forgot all about the possibility of sharks. Fingers shriveled up like prunes, we reluctantly went back to the boat vowing to return on our way back through the area on the way home. Sad to say, our pictures do not do the marvel any justice. It was a pleasant calm evening and we were soon fast asleep not realizing at first how much the sun and the whole exhilarating experience had taken out of us.

The Cambridge Cay mooring field was full so we drove on out of the park and across the Conch Cut. In less than an hour, we were anchored off Compass Cay and found our way to the famed “Rachel’s Bubble Bath.” Trekking through the low lying area scattered with mangroves and rocks, we soon saw the spray in the distance marking the sight of our destination. The bubble bath was located at the northern end of the Cay just inside the Exuma Sound. When the surf from the ocean surge crashes over the gap in the rocks in the lower part of the formation, a foamy pool encompasses the tidal basin…hence simulating a bubble bath. We waded into the area and waited for the crash over the rocks…when it did come we were enveloped by the swirling foam and thrown back a few feet from the force. It was a great time and very refreshing as we picked our spot again and again to enjoy the warm bath splash over us. The optimal time to experience the full effects is at high tide on a windy day. So, today being mild and our timing on the tide a little off, it wasn’t perfect, but we definitely had an enjoyable afternoon.

Pulling anchor we continued on our way to Staniel Cay to hang out with the world famous swimming pigs. The timing of the tide again hindered us as the boat hit the sandy bottom as we rounded Sampson Cay. Aground, we dropped anchor and swam around waiting about two hours for the tide to rise as tour boats zipped back and forth to various islands loaded with visitors. Once we were on the move again, it wasn’t long before we found ourselves in Big Major’s Spot ready to make our acquaintance with the pigs. Grabbing a big bag of carrots and stale pretzels, we made our way to Pig Beach on Baby Belle. Getting closer I became a little wary as some pigs were the size of ponies and did not look so friendly as they chased down their visitors for food. Warned that the pigs would try and climb into the dinghy, we anchored Baby Belle safety in the distance, or so we thought, and swam toward shore with our treats. The first few minutes were calm as I tossed carrots to my first greeters, but soon it was sheer mayhem. As more pigs emerged onto the beach, they became aggressive and charged at us for more and more food. I began to haphazardly throw carrots in every direction in an effort to stop their approach, but one pig in particular would not settle down and chased me all the way back to the dinghy as I retreated, clawing me with his hooves as he swam. Duane found this hysterical as he took pictures of my terror. Finally able to make it back on shore, I decided to try again and, all was going well, when suddenly a mammoth of a pig with huge tusks grabbed my bag of food and ran off with it. Duane took off in pursuit as did the rest of the bigger pigs, but I was happy for the reprieve and went to pet the piglets. Unsuccessful in retrieving the food or the bag, he returned and, as we took a picture, one pig bit me and another snagged Duane’s bathing suit. Exhausted from constantly fending off the animals, who acted more like wild boars, we tossed the remaining carrots in their direction and swam as fast as we could to Baby Belle. Most were now distracted and torturing unsuspecting tourists just landing on the sand, but the super swimmer pig was in hot pursuit again and I barely escaped. Being late in the day and now high tide, we would not be able to snorkel Thunderball Grotto. Taking a quick ride to the grotto to at least see the underwater cave made famous by James Bond, we added it to our growing list of adventures to tackle on our way back through the Exumas on the way home to the States.

In the morning we went a mere ten miles to Black Point Settlement. It was a calm day so we decided to travel out on the Sound and avoid trying to work our way through the increasingly shallow waters. The winds over the course of the next three days were predicted to be 30 knots shifting to the West and we wanted a good area to hunker down and wait out the weather. Squeezing ourselves in just beyond the docks constructed to accommodate the future fuel station and the local fishing boats, we secured both anchors in the event squalls tore through the area.

Rockside Laundry has been praised by many as the premier laundromat in all of the Bahamas. The owner, Ida, kept the place spotless, ran the business efficiently, and was said to serve the best conch fritters. It’s funny how the idea of doing laundry could bring a smile to my face these days as the waterfront property had a spectacular view of the crystal clear waters. It was surreal to sit out on the deck listening to the waves as the smell of Downy wafted through the air. Not a bad trade off for clean clothes.

Garbage was collected in a trailer by the docks with a suggested donation to the town to be put in the lock box nearby once you threw your bags inside. As for water, an RO water spigot was located on the road toward the laundromat so, once the garbage was disposed of, Duane grabbed our jugs to fill while I tended to the laundry situation. There was an additional donation box as a Thank You payment for the water which benefited the school. Any child passing by on their bike made sure that fact was known to any visitor filling up their water receptacles.

Waiting for Ida to get back from serving the school children lunch and supply me with the tokens to run the washing machines, I loaded up the laundry and met Duane at DeShamon’s for some pizza and ice cold beer. Twenty minutes later, I walked across the street to the laundromat and was greeted by one of the women from the school who Ida sent back so I could begin the wash. Noticing a sign that they offered eight minute showers for $4, I purchased some tokens to surprise the Captain. Since the only hot water we have had as of late has been from the solar showers, this will be a treat. As the laundry was spinning, a small tour boat crammed with 10 twenty somethings from New Jersey pulled into the dock and made a bee line to the pizza restaurant. Duane was soon to be invaded by the drunk fist pumping crew wearing not so appropriate beach attire and I could feel the eye roll now as they interrupted his quiet afternoon.

Being on his third beer when I returned, Duane had befriended one of the Jersey Shore revelers and was not so bothered by the ensuing conversation. Laundry folded, we made our way back to Baby Belle and head to our anchorage to unload the clean clothes and our fresh water onto the boat so we could return for showers. On the walk back to the beach, the cat from the restaurant caught our eye and playfully escorted us back to the dinghy. Over the course of our stay on the island, he was always close under foot and we couldn’t resist giving him some love and attention.

Never a dull moment, we each dropped one of the tokens into the slot and pushed the button but not even a drop of water materialized from the pipes. With no one in the office, we radioed on the VHF requesting help working the contraption. In the end, it would have been nice to know that two tokens were required to start the water pumps. Were we supposed to share the eight minutes? As the woman sent to remedy our situation figured that fact out by adding the additional tokens, she pushed the button and stood in the room as the water came sputtering out and my precious minutes started ticking away. I almost shoved her out the door as I jumped under the hot water to begin my race against time and rinsing the conditioner out of my hair. It was a refreshing, yet stressful shower, but I was thankful none the less. Afterward we went for Happy Hour at Scorpio and had drinks with a sweet couple we met at the bar. Heading back to the boat, the winds had already picked up and it was an extremely wet ride…so much for that eight minute shower to rinse the salt off earlier. I will most assuredly be bailing out Baby Belle in the morning.

We bounced and rocked most of the night so we were ready to get on solid ground in the morning. Trying to board Baby Belle had to be strategically planned as the water was so turbulent throwing her around, we had to practically jump in head first. Arriving at the government dock safe, but sufficiently soggy, we walked to Emerald Sunset Grill for a nice lunch on the deck. It was a gorgeous sunny day and we were completely dry by the time we sat down for our meal. Afterward, we followed the trails to the Sound side of the island to get a view of the monstrous waves crashing onto the beach below and the Blow Hole spouting high in the air.

Lorraine’s Cafe was having a buffet dinner that evening which we had reservations for and, making our way back to the harbor, we stopped next door at her mother’s house for some homemade coconut raisin bread. Momma’s bread was the talk of all the Exumas and the aroma coming from her kitchen as she led us to the selection of breads fresh out of the oven, had my mouth watering. There were plenty of cruisers at the cafe when we arrived. Introducing ourselves, we were invited to dine with a group of sailboaters who had been traveling together for the last few weeks. They were a personable group and shared pictures and stories with us as we reciprocated with tales from our journey. After a great evening, and stuffing ourselves with fresh fish, BBQ chicken, homemade Mac and Cheese pie, tender pork ribs and Bahamian rice, we set out on the laborious task of getting back to the boat. The winds had not subsided and we could see white caps rolling in. Descending the steps from the dock carefully as Duane tried to steady Baby Belle, I sat down, put on my life jacket and readied myself for the wet rough ride across the bay. Wet was an understatement….drenched is a more appropriate word to describe our condition once we arrived home.

The weather had improved significantly by the next day and we were able to get ashore and not require towels to dry ourselves or ring out our clothes. Planning to depart the next morning, we refilled our water jugs, left our donation and collected sea glass along the beach. Duane was obsessed with gathering as much sea glass as possible and proceeded to fill two buckets he secretly brought to shore with us. Some pieces looked like mere broken bottles to me, but he did not discriminate in his collection calling them “unique.”

Before stopping into the Sunset Grill to actually see the sunset, we walked the road through town observing the kids in the playground, women tending to gardens, and eventually came upon a house with a puppy sitting outside. Domino, as we came to know was his name, started to follow us on our walk and, even with our pleading, would not go back home. Ultimately, we had to walk back to his house and knock on the door to alert the owners of his wandering. A woman, who most likely was preparing dinner, appeared at the door with three little children peering from behind her and reassured us not to worry saying Domino will return home shortly when he was hungry. And with that we were on our way with Domino in tow….and sure enough about twenty minutes later, Domino abruptly turned around and ran as fast as his little legs could take him toward home. Sunset that evening from atop the gazebo over the water was spectacular and we were grateful for the time we had spent in Black Point over the last few days.

The next day was calm and, as the sun glistened off the water, we made our way through the Bank. It was a hot day and, with no breeze, we looked forward to anchoring and jumping in the sea of turquoise. Passing by Musha Cay, the 700 acre private island owned by David Copperfield, we marveled at the sprawling ultra-exclusive, $300,000 a week resort estate scattered about the landscape. Dropping the hook in early afternoon a little further in the distance by Rudder Cut Cay, also owned by the magician, we swam around and watched the day pass before us with no urgency to do much more. The next morning we were on a mission to snorkel the life size grand piano and sculpture of the admiring mermaid submerged by the illusionist off the beach of Rudder Cut Cay. Located in 15 feet of water, the stainless steel work of art, was an interesting outing. Duane was able to hold his breath and dive down to sit on the piano bench to get the full effect of the experience. I, on the other hand, enjoyed my view from above, as we have both come to accept my lack of diving skills.

We had been in constant touch with our friends, Molly and Bill, on Salty Paws over the few weeks since we last saw them and, by chance and good luck, we were now only a few miles apart. After exploring a few caves carved out of the rocks after thousands of years of exposure to the elements, we pulled anchor and went to meet up with them for dinner in Prime Cay. Being very shallow and low tide, we were forced to make the short trip out on the Exuma Sound. Needless to say, conditions were far from favorable as over the next hour and a half we rocked, rolled and banged all the way into the Prime Cay cut. By the time we settled down (and gathered stray sunglasses) and they arrived on our boat, I was more than ready to indulge in the Rum punches Molly had whipped up. We had the most enjoyable evening catching up with our old friends which made the decision to make our way through the rough waters worth it. The next morning, they drove by to say farewell as Salty Paws was heading North to cross over to Eleuthera and our ultimate destination was Georgetown on Great Exuma further South.

Our last stop before Georgetown was by the Captain’s request off William Cay near Lee Stocking Island. I needed to provide my bow lookout services this day as the blue waters were increasingly more shallow and I had no desire to travel out on the Sound unless absolutely necessary. Passing Leaf Cay we watched as the tourists feed the Iguanas and we were soon anchored off the white sand of the Twin Beaches. There were about 12 other boats around us and we set both anchors as we often do now as an extra precaution against the sudden changes in the weather and water temperament.

Exploring the Twin Beaches, we made our way to the top of the cliff overlooking a cavernous space where the crashing waves echoed. Arriving back to the shore, we directed Baby Belle further North making a beeline toward the ultimate destination the Captain had been anticipating. Securing her next to two other dinghies, I was relieved we were not the only ones about to wander through the brush to explore an abandoned Marine Research facility. Along the mile and a half hike we came in contact with the other boaters who were on their way back from seeing the dilapidated compound. Though they said it was interesting, being it was now later in the day, we needed to step up the pace as the mosquitoes would soon be out in full force and I did not want to be trying to find our way off the creepy island after dark.

I am sometimes at a loss for words describing the beauty of the world we are newly discovering, but this place the Captain insisted on exploring was the antithesis of all that. Some buildings were left stuck in time as if someone planned to return, but never did, with open books and research manuals littering dusty desks. Broken light fixtures hung from ceilings and walls were crumbling down in almost every structure we entered. Chills ran down my spine when we emerged into what had to be the research lab seeing murky fish tanks and test tubes and chalkboards filled with scientific formulas and notes. Duane was enthralled by the whole idea of what had transpired here years ago and, I should have known, was eyeing anything he saw laying around for its potentially usefulness. Emerging from behind a shed with a piece of tubing which he explained he could use to get the water out of the bilge, I cringed at the idea of what had previously flowed through the encasing. Finally arriving at the end of the line of buildings, we hurried toward the abandoned air strip and through the thick brush leading toward Baby Belle as mosquitoes buzzed around my head. Well, not before the Captain stopped one last time to collect a glass buoy which he said would be the perfect souvenir. Making sure he scrubbed his “treasures” thoroughly before they were allowed on the boat was my only prerequisite.

A nasty squall blew through at 5am and, as it shifted us precariously close to the rocks, we went out into the pouring rain in the dark to reset the second anchor and pull us further away. When I say we, I should say I, as the Captain was directing me from the dry confines of the flybridge as I was being pelted with rain on the bow trying to wrangle the anchor and not be thrown overboard as we bucked up and down. The sun was soon up and the rain subsided, and not being able to get back to sleep, we left around 7am to exit the cut onto the Sound plotting a course to Georgetown. We were excited to see old friends already there and also to welcome Duane’s mom, Jean, and sister, Lisa, who were coming to visit us during part of the two weeks we planned to stay in the town.

As another gorgeous sunrise materialized around us, we were soon ready to pull anchor and cross over to the Exumas. Following eight sailboats through the Porgee Rocks we were soon traversing the Yellow Bank. The Bank was a relatively shallow expanse of water about 30 miles wide stretching to Northern Exuma and was a land mine of potentially destructive coral heads. We had timed the crossing perfectly as the sun was high in the sky aiding us visually and I stood post on the bow pulpit scanning the waters for any hazards. We anchored off Allen Cay by early afternoon and were excited to enjoy the tranquil beauty for the rest of the day. After scanning for sharks, we jumped into the refreshing crystal blue water to cool off. The current was extremely strong through the Cay so I held onto a rope tied to the back of the boat to avoid being swept away as the Captain grabbed his flippers and swam around.

Once Iguana Beach was clear of all the tour boats, we jumped in Baby Belle with our bag of grapes setting off to feed the inhabitants scurrying around the sand. At first the iguanas were timid and inched closer to our outstretched sticks topped off with the grapes very slowly. But, once the first animal scored his treat, they all came fast and furious. There had to be 50 iguanas at one point on the beach trying to creep up on us and snag the grapes. It was a little unnerving and exhilarating at the same time watching them suddenly jump for the stick and then quickly waddle away with the grape clasped tightly in their jaws. The bag of grapes was devoured before we knew it so we took our leave back to the boat before there was a mutiny. Watching from the water, the iguanas were soon back to lounging under the cover of the palm trees.

That night was crystal clear and we opened a bottle of wine to relax on the bow and marvel at the sky illuminated with thousands and thousands of stars. Once the current shifted, the water rocked us a little uncomfortably but not unbearably for the rest of the night. We were starting to get used to the tide and current shifts and now plan our anchorages accordingly as to avoid more sleepless nights.

Continuing further South the next day, we decided to stop at Norman’s Cay. The drug cartel had used the island as its headquarters and for drug smuggling into the US in the late 70’s and early 80’s…or so the story goes. Duane was anxious to snorkel the sunken plane wreck in the shallow Norman’s Cay cut. There was speculation that the plane had been owned by reputed drug lord, Pablo Escobar, and crashed when overloaded with kilos of cocaine, but, according to locals, the background of the crash was less spectacular and scandalous— just a drunk pilot misjudging the runway. Either way, we took Baby Belle to the area to snorkel the mangled metal and swim among the tropical fish that called it their home.

On the way back to the anchorage, we explored some of the lush mangroves and stopped by the deserted beach bar. Told the bar opened at 5pm, we patiently waited…but when no one arrived by 5:30, we left. Island time for sure!

Shroud Cay was only a few miles away and was our next destination. Shroud was an uninhabited island and part of the Exuma Land and Sea Park. The 176 square mile park was established to preserve and maintain the delicate ecological balance of marine life in the Bahamas. Being a “no take zone,” fishing, conching and even gathering shells is prohibited.

Along the trip we happened upon mega yacht after mega yacht trolling through the pristine waters. Shroud was breathtaking …surrounded by sand bores and prominent rock formations making for an unforgettable landscape. Baby Belle was getting a workout these days and, starting her up, we headed off to explore the nature preserve and marine nursery surrounded by mangroves and littered with giant sea turtles frolicking in the shallow waters. At the end of the winding creek, we pulled the dinghy onto a beautiful white sand beach. The ocean crashed on the shore and we swam out to the sandbar to absorb the full effect of the unparalleled beauty of the turquoise waters.

After a refreshing swim, we hiked up the hillside to Camp Driftwood. The area was nothing more than a clearing from where you were able to view the vast expanse of the ocean from one side and the blue waters of the Bank on the other. It was a hot day and not wanting to get attacked by mosquitoes, we quickly descended back to the sand for a few more minutes in the water before we headed back along Sanctuary Creek. After lunch, we headed to the fresh water well which was allegedly located on a path on the far side of the creek. GPS in hand, we climbed through the brush and low hanging branches toward the documented spot. Finally seeing the well in the distance, Duane lowered the bucket into the depths and came up with a pail full of orange murky water. It was definitely a disappointment after trekking all the way over there.

The winds were picking up the next day, but we felt that we would be protected on the shallow waters of the Bank from anything extreme. Boy were we wrong. As the winds whipped over 20 knots we were battered and rocked all the way to Warderick Wells, headquarters of the Land and Sea Park. I had prematurely stored my seasick bands once we crossed the Tongue, but I quickly retrieved them as we went through the relentless spin cycle.

Thankful in the warm climate that an unpleasant confrontation with the wayward socks was not going to be a possibility, I almost regularly had to deal with the medley of sunglasses which did not make the morning cut and now ended up strewn about the whole boat after we were tossed about for hours. As do the socks, they too have a comfortable bin to travel in, but never quite make it back inside after the fashion show concludes and they are cast aside for the day.

The Emerald Bay mooring field was the closest in the direction we were heading, so I called ahead for a ball assignment as I had paid for the reservation on the Park’s online website already. Hooking up to the ball without incident, we took the dinghy to check in at the Park office. Once registered, we went to hike up to Boo Boo Hill. It has been a long standing tradition for boaters passing through the island to leave a momento on top of the hill which was the highest point of the Cay as an offering to Neptune and all the sailors lost at sea. I had found a piece of driftwood while we were on Andros Island on which Duane burnt the boat’s name which was going to be our offering. The geography of the area up to the hill was breathtaking. Duane tried his hand at the musical rocks and we skipped stones across the creeks snaking out from the mangroves. While we were enjoying the scenery of the unparalleled terrain shaped by nature from atop the hill and marveling at the thousands of driftwood signs left behind, we realized we had cell service for the first time in days. Checking in with family and friends, we also caught up on the news and didn’t feel so detached from the rest of the world as we obviously were.

We were thoroughly exhausted when we arrived back to the boat just before sunset. It was a glorious day and an even more wonderful evening as the water lapped the side of the boat as we enjoyed some wine in the calm serenity of our island oasis. Over the last few days, we finally felt like we had found the Bahamas we had been searching for.

Comparatively speaking, the conditions were much more favorable than the attempted exodus four days prior in the “flight from the cockroach.” Realistically speaking, the wind was blowing a sustained 15 knots and 3-4 foot seas rolled us around relentlessly for the next five hours making for an extremely rough ride further into the heart of the Bahamas. Halfway through the trip we came down particularly hard and one of the steel bolts on the radar arch snapped completely in half…a consequence of the constant beatings we have endured. Too scared to throw up as the arch banged against the side of the fly bridge, I grabbed the wheel to steady the boat as Duane climbed on the side to secure the detached portion with ropes before the whole arch, solar panels and all, came crashing down around us. That would sure have been a tragedy of epic proportions.

We were both more than ready to anchor in West Bay outside of New Providence as the sun hung low in the sky later in the day. Exhausted, we enjoyed a glass of wine and a beautiful sunset among 30 other boats swaying in the wind off of the beach–the sight of our next adventure.

Pulling anchor early the next morning, we were excited to enter the harbor and explore Nassau. We were also a little nervous about all the stories we have heard about crime running rampant on the docks. We had steel locks for pretty much everything that could be carried away and a security camera for added peace of mind while we ventured into town. It was protocol to radio the harbor and request permission to enter, so after doing just that, we were given clearance to proceed. As we turned passed the breakwater, seven cruise ships at dock came into view. Each was the size of a small city and we cringed imagining the throngs of people on the island who had disembarked from these vessels this morning. After filling the tank with gas, we made our way to the Nassau Harbor Marina where we had a slip for the next two days.

After getting situated, our first stop was to Potter’s Cay for lunch. Located under the bridge which led to Atlantis, the area was comprised of little shacks lined up one after the other serving a variety of local cuisine. As we walked by surveying our options, each proprietor tried to entice us into choosing their establishment by shouting out drink specials and specialty dishes as we walked passed. We settled for the shack at the end mainly because it was away from the crowds, but also so we had a view of the fishing boats and watched as they made their way in and out of the docks with their daily catch. It was a perfect choice all around as the meal of shrimp, pork and rice and beans was absolutely delicious.

After lunch and some people watching, we walked the area admiring some of the colonial architecture and took a stroll on the beach. Back toward the marina, we picked up some provisions in Fresh Market and had a drink overlooking the harbor before calling it a day. The tide was dead low upon our return and Duane had to tie a rope to the ladder in order for me to climb back aboard. If not, I would have been sleeping on the lounge chair by the pool. The price of being short I guess.

After spending the morning cleaning the interior and exterior of the boat and tackling the laundry, we walked over the bridge toward Atlantis. Located on Paradise Island, Atlantis was a premier resort with lush gardens, a spectacular water park, beach front property, an over the top aquarium, marine habitats, a renowned gold course on the ocean as well as a sprawling casino and virtually anything one can dream of to enjoy a fabulous vacation in the lap of luxury. We were enthralled by every inch of the magnificent property and after touring Marina Village decided we would treat ourselves to a night at the marina amongst the millionaires and their yachts on our trip back to the States. Grabbing a frozen drink, we worked our way around one of the 14 lagoons which were home to more than 50,000 aquatic animals. As some areas were accessible to guests only, I looked forward to returning to the water park in a few weeks and zipping down the slides on a hot day like this one.

Under the bridge we stopped into Anthony’s for Happy Hour and then grabbed dinner at Margaritaville. Sitting at the bar we had a fun night enjoying the beachy atmosphere, a live band and the beautiful weather. It was late in the evening when we rose to leave so the bartender called us a cab as it was not wise to walk around this area after dark.

Not in any rush the next morning as we were only going to anchor off Rose Island less than seven miles away, we filed the tanks with water, showered and had lunch. Captain Duane was in the engine room displeased with one of the “children” so I made myself scarce as he pleaded with the culprit to behave.

Rose Island is a private island surrounded by turquoise waters and coral reefs. A popular snorkeling area, in spite of the bull sharks which inhabit the waters, the tour boats motored in and out all day dropping people into the water. After watching for predators for almost an hour, Duane convinced me to jump in and wade around the boat with my snorkel gear. The underwater view was amazing but I was a little preoccupied with the notion of a shark barreling toward me to stay under water for any length of time. Duane didn’t help matters when he decided to grab my leg from behind and scared me half to death.

We decided to have a little booze cruise Happy Hour once the tour boats left heading back to the cruise ships and took Baby Belle to Sandy Cay. This was the epitome of what we envisioned for our Bahama experience…crystal blue waters, breathtaking sunsets and secluded beaches.

We threw off the lines a little after 7 the next morning and followed four other boats out of the harbor passed Triangle Rocks through the Gun Cay Cut and emerged out onto the Great Bahama Bank. It was a calm day with light winds and the water glistened in spectacular shades of blue as we glided along. The Bank was a particularly shallow body of water and the brilliant colors were the result of light reflecting off the sand and coral on the bottom.

We were trying to get as close to the Tongue of the Ocean, where the depth dropped thousands of feet, by dark and anchor on the Bank for the evening. Around 1pm we approached Mackie Shoal and decided to have lunch. The water was like glass so I took my sandwich to the bow and soaked in the sun and enjoyed the sounds of the water rippling below us. As the sun began to set we charted a course to the Northwest Shoal and dropped anchor just as the sky was turning a burnt orange color. At first it was a little disconcerting anchoring in an area as vast as the ocean with no land in sight, but we were well out of the channel and had every light on illuminating our position, so I was able to relax a little. Well…except for the occasional thought of pirates which the Captain assured me was nonsense.

After a few glasses of wine we were ready to turn in for the evening, but, not letting wanting us to get too comfortable, the wind picked up around 10pm and the water began to crash against the hull like a sledgehammer. I was not as terrified as I had been the previous week, but it was going to be another sleepless Monday as I gathered our pillows and blankets setting up our campsite in the salon where the noise was not as pronounced.

Calming somewhat in the morning, we moved on toward the Tongue and decided to go south to Andros Island. Andros was the largest island in the Bahamas, but by contrast to most other inhabited areas, the least developed or visited. The trip through the Tongue proved to be as rocky and rolly as our days back on Lake Michigan with the current more favorable temperature being the only exception. We had read about an old superstition that making a sacrifice in the Tongue would guarantee safe passage. Figuring it couldn’t hurt, just like crossing the Gulf Stream, the Captain tossed in part of the anchor chain which, as I think I mentioned before, had been removed before we left home and had been riding with us all these months. As we watched the chain sink, he uttered a saying -“You can take a piece of us, but you can not claim all of us.” When the waves shifted to directly on the bow and we banged continuously up and down for what seemed like hours, we doubted the water gods had ample time to process our gift and Duane picked up speed in an effort to end the uncomfortable ride sooner than later.

Arriving in Morgan’s Bluff before 11am, we pulled into the harbor area and right off noticed we would be roughing it. We were told that we were permitted to tie off against the rocky wall next to the local bar that looked virtually abandoned or, as the Harbormaster offered, we could tie up to one of the local fishing boats which, from our vantage point, did not look very operational. Both options would cost us a mere $7 and change and, as the rocky wall did not look so forgiving, we opted to see if the locals minded if we tied up alongside them. Without hesitation a few fishermen ran to the port side of their boat and took our lines welcoming us with open arms. We thanked them for their hospitality with a few cold drinks. A little uneasy about our accommodations, we decided, for better or for worse, this will be home for a few days as we waited for the weather to calm.

Removing the bikes from the bow, we had to lug them across the fishing boat to the parking lot— our view on the port side…good thing the curtains will be closed anyway. Climbing across fish chests and coolers, we eyed the rusty water spout in the grass which we would be filling our jugs from to transfer to the tank onboard. On the far side of the lot were a few dilapidated cabins which at one time provided shower facilities, but were now in complete shambles with collapsed ceilings and broken pipes. Taking off down the dusty road what we noticed first off, just like in Bimini, were abandoned projects half completed all along the stretch and garbage littering the beautiful landscape of the island. It was truly disheartening.

Three and a half miles down the road we stumbled upon Driftwood BBQ and Seafood. My stomach was growling by this point and both of us were parched from the ride under the hot sun. Reclaimed wood furniture adorned the outdoor setting of the restaurant in vibrant colors. The aroma coming from the back deck on the barbecue had our mouths watering. Bringing us two ice cold Kaliks, we soon learned that our server, Vashi, owned the restaurant with her husband, Craig, the chef, and only opened a few days earlier after extensive renovations. The pair had gathered trees, driftwood (hence the name), shells, and anything that washed up on shore, even an old row boat, and took to the laborious task of constructing this unique outdoor cafe. Soon we were indulging ourselves on pulled pork and BBQ ribs that were super tender and delicious. We were further treated to scrumptious homemade side dishes making the sweaty bike ride worth it. Craig came out to introduce himself after the meal as we gave him high praises for everything we had just devoured. Chatting with the couple over another cold beer, Craig explained he was a US Ex-patriot who met Vashi, a local, while he was stationed on the island years ago, and decided to settle down and make a life here. Theirs was a touching story and after telling us some tales of the captivating island they called home, they directed us to a few must-see sights we had to explore while we were visiting.

After biking back to the harbor, we became a little more acquainted with our new neighbors who proved to be a very eclectic group. The Captain of the fishing boat was very personable and was curious about our trip thus far through the States. His crew ranged from a hyper Haitian, who spoke so fast in an unfamiliar slang that I only understood a few words, to a few polite younger men who nodded and drank beer most of the afternoon, to a local who yelled and cursed most of the time at or to nobody in particular. Assured that they were all harmless, we retreated to the confines of the cabin and I locked us in for the evening.

The next morning we were awakened by the commotion as one of the local boats was going out for some conch. We decided to lower the dinghy and take Baby Belle to the beach for the afternoon to gather shells, climb the rocks along the reef and try our hand at fishing. It was a beautiful relaxing day and we relished the serenity of our little oasis. Back at the boat I took a water conscious shower which we discussed was going to be the norm going forward since water may not be so readily available in future destinations. Sufficiently refreshed, we were deciding on dinner as we watched the resident manatee and her baby swim around, when there was suddenly a horn honking in the parking lot. Peaking out from behind the curtains there was a gentleman standing on the edge of the wall waving to us. We soon came to find out that his name was Norm and he too was an Ex-patriot living on the island with his wife Karen. Norm was friends with Craig and Vashi who had told him we were in the harbor visiting the island for a few days. Inviting us to dinner at a local restaurant in town named Bubu’s, we jumped at the chance to see more of what the island had to offer that our bikes couldn’t take us to. The restaurant was a small establishment with two tables, but no one was inside so we were soon being served rum punches and waiting on our burgers. Norm and Karen were from the Midwest and decided to move to the island years ago to live a simpler life. Before dropping us back at the boat, Norm drove us to Driftwood to have a nightcap and say Hello to Craig and Vashi. We had a great evening and were so happy to have had the pleasure of all of their company.

At 2am the harbor lit up under the spotlight of the cargo ship dropping the weekly supplies off from Nassau. The ship was so close to us maneuvering into position, I could have touched the side and there was nothing we could do to ward off the close encounter with this floating mass of metal that was ten times our size. Duane stepped outside to assess the situation and a voice from the shadows asked if he could go on land and catch the line to secure the ship. Reluctantly, he obliged, and I watched in fear that the huge monkey fist being hurled his way with the rope attached would knock him out. All went smoothly and we were soon back in bed trying to drown out the noise of the trucks unloading the cargo. Then at 6:45 there was a loud knock on the boat and we could not fathom what was going on now. Emerging from the cabin, we saw a man claiming his name was William sitting on the side of our boat. He noticed the gas tanks strapped to the swim platform and asked if we could spare a gallon to get his car started. He needed to get home to collect his belongings in order the make it back in time to catch the cargo ship which was heading back to Nassau once it was unloaded. William promised to reciprocate our generosity with fresh fruit and veggies upon his return with the gas can so Duane handed over “Joe Blo” and off William went. Returning soon enough with the promised tomatoes, papaya, peppers and lettuce, we expected the empty gas can and would call it even. Instead, William proceeded to ask us for some money in exchange for the food saying anything we could spare would be appreciated. Being caught off guard, we gave him ten dollars at which he asked for ten more and proceeded to explain that he needed the cash to purchase more gas to still get himself home. Uncomfortable as to where these fresh goods came from as we were now skeptical that he even owned a farm, we gave him the extra money to move him along. In the end we never saw him or “Joe Blo” again and found out a few days later that he was arrested carrying drugs to Nassau on the cargo ship he was rushing to catch. The fishing boat Captain shook his head as we explained the story later in the week and muttered something about Karma.

As for the cargo ship, the crew diligently worked all night and through most of the next day as crates of fruits, veggies and food as wells as cars and various equipment were unloaded and set up in sections in the parking lot. Soon after, people busied around claiming their property and hurried on their way. It was a whole different way of life on the island.

The sun was blazing hot, but we biked our way up to Henry Morgan’s Cave. Stories of treasure buried in the cave may be folklore, but it was exciting to climb inside the cool confines of the rocks and take a look around…and pray the bats stayed asleep. A little up the road was Morgan’s Bluff. We climbed up the rocks to the top overlooking the vast expanse of the water as the waves crashed below. There was a makeshift cross at the tip which we assumed was a symbol to honor all those lost at sea.

Norm had emailed us that he had set up a get together at Driftwood later in the day and would be by to pick us up around 5:30. There were a few other boats anchored in the outer harbor so we took the dinghy over to invite them, but none seemed too interested. The gathering was with about ten other Americans and Canadians who resided on the island…some year round and others just lived there in the winter months. Each of their stories was more intriguing than the next ranging from tales of hurricane destruction and survival, to failed marriages and even some of promising business opportunities. In turn, they were equally intrigued by our tale of having left home on our 35 ft boat thousands of miles and over 6 months ago.

Biking the next afternoon to F&H Takeaway for lunch, we happened upon the small shack with chicken wire across the windows. Walking through the broken front door we were greeted by an older woman who was watching a gospel sermon on a small television. Embarrassed to walk out, we ordered two conch burgers and tried to stay cool. The meal was simple but tasty and I was able to have French fries so there were no complaints from me. The winds since we arrived had been terrible so we went up to the Bluff to see how the seas looked. The water was still unsettled, but not as volatile as they had been the other day. Duane was seriously contemplating moving on in the morning. I just rolled my eyes at the suggestion as I felt myself getting seasick at the mere thought of being out in those waters.

The fishermen had returned and were cleaning their catch at the docks when we returned. The Captain told us to come aboard and sold us fresh fish and threw in some conch as a bonus. After seasoning the fish that evening, Duane went outside to heat up the barbecue. That’s when I saw it…..a cockroach!!! We had seen the creature running around on the fishing boat, but it was a whole other story now that it had made its way over scurrying along our transom. I’ve never seen Duane move so fast as he grabbed the bug with a rag and threw both clear away from the boat. With that creepy encounter, I was more than ready to brave the waters and move on in the morning.

By now we had deduced that two of the crew lived on the derelict fishing boats and, seeing us preparing to depart, helped us untie the next morning wishing us safe travels. Looking back now, the cockroach probably tainted my better judgement and we were soon battling 4-6 foot seas. 3 miles out we hit a wave so hard it felt like we rammed a brick wall and the bow was buried under the water for what seemed like an eternity. Without hesitation or pleading from me, the Captain spun the boat around in the turbulent conditions and we retreated back to the harbor. Instead of motoring back to the fishing boat, we anchored in the outer harbor for the night to lick our wounds. My terrified tolerance for rough conditions had definitely gone up in the last few months, but not that much.

It was a bumpy night and the winds were picking up, so we dejectedly idled back inside in the morning and waved to our friends. Tying us back up, the fishing boat Captain called out saying he was wondering when we would be back. Not missing a beat as he chopped the head off of a fish, he shook his head and said not even the crazy locals would attempt to go out in those conditions.

Giving Norm a call to let him know of our failed departure attempt, he picked us up for lunch and, later in the evening when the thunderstorms hit, came by with Karen to collect us and take us back to their house for movie and popcorn night. It was a pleasant reprieve to sit on a couch that was not rocking back and forth for one evening. Finding out we had not taken hot showers in some time, even though I personally counted the solar shower as a luxury, they offered for us to come back the following day to remedy that situation and, to boot…do some much needed laundry. The idea of clean towels and more than a five minute shower made my night…actually my whole week.

Getting stir crazy in our current location, we decided to rent a car the next day and drive south to Fresh Creek. Passing the small airport, we were soon at Brigadiers which Norm suggested we head to for lunch. It was virtually empty as the winds were whipping outside and we tried to find a table with come protection that still had a view of the sparkling blue water. After lunch, we walked along the beach and then made our way to the Androsia Batik factory to have a tour. The factory was nothing elaborate and rather primitive as we were lead to the three distinct areas that ultimately collaborated to produce the garments. The first shack housed the rubber stamps which were dipped in wax by hand and then pressed onto the fabric. The next area housed big vats of dye for the color. Once procured, the fabrics were taken to the sewing room where three women were sitting at sewing machines following patterns making the various articles of clothing. It was very interesting to see the mechanics of the process played out in front of us and I scored myself a cute blue skirt on the way out.

Before we headed back to the Bluff, we went to take a gander at Captain Bill’s Blue Hole. We had been hearing about these blue holes since we arrived and wanted to see what they were all about. This one in particular was said to be the largest watering hole on the island at about 100 feet deep and 440 feet in diameter and described as a mysterious labyrinth of underwater caves and cavities beneath the surface. There was a diving tour proceeding to the hole when we arrived and the entrance looked a little sketchy, so we admired the impressive natural wonder from the cliff.

Showers that evening were much appreciated and we were able to say farewell to Norm and Karen, as well as a few others we had met earlier in the week, who were having drinks in their backyard when we arrived. We were so fortunate to have been introduced to so many wonderful people on our trip to the island making it feel less like we were being held captive by Mother Nature.

Today was the day! The winds had calmed and the seas had settled enough for us to make the 50 or so mile trip to New Providence. We hurried in the morning to return the car and along the way made stops at the Andros Water Factory to purchase some drinking water and to Captain Charlie’s Blue Hole which was scary and murky and not as inviting as the Blue Hole in the park. Turning in our keys, I went to the small store to purchase some homemade red velvet cake for the trip this afternoon as we waited for our ride back to the harbor. To our surprise, Craig and Vashi were shopping for some vegetables so we were able to say Goodbye and wish them well.

Here we go again…we got the thumbs up from our local fishing Captain and off we went. This time there’s no turning back 😃

Having left the Haulover inlet in Miami around 10am we significantly underestimated the force of the Gulf Stream as it slowed us down to a mere 5.5 mph. To compound the timing issue, a few hours into the trip, the wind had picked up significantly and we were facing beam seas knocking us back and forth like a pendulum. Inching closer to our destination, Duane realized we would not be able to make safe passage into the harbor before dark, so we must anchor for the night off the beach and go inside the channel in the morning when we would be able to visually see the shifting sandbars and coral heads.

The mayhem that ensued the next twelve hours was borderline unbearable. Strapping himself into his life jacket and securing his head lamp, Duane left me at the helm in the pitch dark to drop two anchors and hopefully secure us for the night. I fought with the steering wheel to keep the boat in place as waves crashed over and over and Duane tried to steady himself. Once he was confident the anchors had set, we both sat on the couch and waited out the wrath. We were assaulted relentlessly the whole night as the boat pitched back and forth violently and bucked up and down. There seemed no end to the onslaught of wind and waves battering us and I just prayed morning would come soon and that our home would stay intact through this unimaginable beating.

Neither one of us slept a wink and most of the night passed with an uncomfortable silence as each excruciating sound of the boat being assaulted turned my stomach and made me cringe. Once the sun rose, it took a while for the waves to subside enough so we could pull the anchors and move into the safety of the harbor. We emerged from our confines to a beautiful sunny morning and grateful we were still afloat. Going out to hoist the anchors, Duane was astonished and dismayed that the force of the incessant waves tore the steel pall locking the wheel of the windlass clear off the anchor mount. He was now deeply concerned that once the anchor was raised we would not be able to drop it again.

Now having a visual aid to navigation, we were able to snake our way inside and tie up in a slip at Big Game Marina in Alicetown. Once the boat was in place, Duane went to clear customs and I cleaned the cabin which had been turned upside down the night before as I helplessly watched from the couch- the only thing that hadn’t been tossed around. Upon his return, he immediately noticed something was amiss. In addition to the anchor damage, the two trim tabs on the stern had been completely ripped off and were now just flapping back and forth against the hull of the boat. Not wanting the metal tabs to puncture a hole in the fiberglass, Duane grabbed some wire and attempted to strap them up. Here came problem number two…bull sharks! As he climbed onto the swim platform ready to wade into the water, a fisherman warned us of the sharks that inhabited the marina and, no sooner had he uttered those fateful words, we saw three sharks circling the boat. We had to come up with a better plan as not to lose life or limb. As a temporary fix, Duane decided to tie up the tabs with string as I held the boot hook to ward off any sharks that may pounce while his hands were in the water. More than one person warned him to watch his fingers, but thankfully, everything went off without a hitch and he still had all ten digits when the task was completed.

To add to my already frayed nerves, I now had to watch my step getting onto and off the dock for fear of what lurked beneath waiting for any misstep. A drink was definitely in order…

Once we paid the Harbormaster and requested a map of the area, we took off on foot toward Baileytown. Our first stop was the BTC store to purchase a sim card and international data plan and the second stop was at Joe’s Conch shack for some ice cold Kalik and fresh conch salad. Both hit the spot and we finally started to decompress.

Bimini was definitely not what we expected. It was more rundown and desolate than any accounts we had read about. Locals pointed at Hurricane Matthew, which passed through the area a few years go, as the culprit for the lagging economy, abandoned buildings and basic poverty of the people. The powers that be assured the residents that the newly opened high-end Hilton Resorts World Bimini Marina would breathe life back into the economy. In contrast, the locals we spoke with feared it would have the opposite results and basically suffocate them.

The weather the next week was not shaping up to be pleasant at all so we made plans to stick around for the time being. Floating around in the pool at the marina, the night before became a distant memory and I was finally relaxing. Leisurely walking the area later that afternoon, at the direction of one of the fisherman, we happened upon Nate’s and purchased some famous Bimini bread. As dusk approached, we made our way to the island beach shack, CJ’s, for shrimp and conch burgers. Scoring a seat on the patio with a lovely couple visiting from the States, they offered to take us on their golf cart for a quick tour of the island. Being only 7 miles long we made it from the cemetery on one end to the land development beyond the Hilton marina in no time.

In the morning we decided to unstrap the bikes from the bow and ride along King’s Highway to Paradise Island to gather some sea glass which was supposed to be abundant in the area. The bikes were very temperamental after being battered with salt water for weeks and I basically had no brakes as we traveled along the windy narrow roads. Grossly misinformed in regard to the sea glass, we headed back to the boat hot and sweaty with only five small pieces in our pocket. But, as a pleasant surprise, we had gathered a few conch shells to add to the decor of the cabin. In the afternoon, we decided to be adventurous and we took the boat to Honeymoon Harbor off Gun Cay to anchor for the night. Exploring the area on Baby Belle, stingrays fluttered through the waters in abundance occasionally making it close enough to the surface so we could touch them. It was a magnificent sight and we settled in for the evening listening to the waves lightly slap the hull ….well until 3am when a thunderstorm tore through the area lighting the boat up like a Christmas tree. We both feared we will never get a good night’s sleep again.

By morning the storm had passed and we pulled anchor and moved 5 miles south to Cat Cay. Since the pall was broken on the beloved windlass, we had to use a stick to release the chain and decided to drop two anchors as piece of mind in these unfamiliar waters. While attempting to re-anchor, the line tied to the dinghy so we could tow her along wrapped around the prop. There was no getting around what needed to be done, so Duane jumped in the water to cut the line free as I scanned the area for sharks. Not seeing anything that would prove detrimental to his health, he now had the opportunity to wire up the trim tabs. Not wanting to press his luck, he made a quick job of it and got back on the boat and grabbed the fishing pole. He was unsuccessful the previous night, but today he snagged his first catch and let me reel it in.

What marked our 100th travel day had us back in Alicetown tied up in Browns Marina as the winds the next few days were going to be substantial with gusts into the 30s. Before the weather turned, we took a walk to the Dolphin House Museum designed and constructed by a fifth generation local, Ashley Saunders, dubbed “Poetry in Stone” by many. The elaborate mosaic was a collaboration of construction scraps, recyclables and anything that would otherwise clutter the earth pieced together as a tribute to the Dolphin. Ashley was a character for sure.

That evening we added a few extra lines to secure the boat and, making sure I had a firm grip on the piling before I disembarked, we walked the dock up to Big John’s for dinner eyeing the sharks circling under the planks every step of the way. The restaurant definitely worked on island time which was a concept I have been slow getting used to. It wasn’t the best meal, but we hadn’t been out for awhile or seen a TV in over a week, so we pleasantly enjoyed the next few hours absorbing everything.

The weather turned for the worse the next morning so we decided to get some projects done on the boat. Duane turned the salon into his sewing room so I took to the upstairs and set up the laundromat on the flybridge. We checked in on each other every now and then and stopped to have lunch together. The weather cleared up enough later in the day that we were able to take a walk to the shipwreck on the bluff and caught up with fellow boaters at the Tiki Bar upon our return. The following day was Super Bowl Sunday and they were organizing a pot luck gathering to begin at kick-off.

Before the Super Bowl gathering was to commence, we spent the day biking the island. We went to the Resort World Marina at the north end of the island to walk the grounds and play some slots in the casino. The marina serviced millionaire clientele and, by the looks of the docks, Bella Donna would be grossly out of place. On the ride back we parked outside Stuart’s Conch Shack and strolled up to the deck to order some fresh conch salad. We of course had to find out for ourselves which shack served the best conch as both boasted they were number one on the island. After our meal, our vote was with Stuart. The last stop on our tour that day was at the End of the World Bar. Etching our names on the wall, as was required as a right of passage, we sat down for a beer with the locals.

The pot luck gathering was a great time and by halftime it was decided by the Captains that the weather was going to be calm enough the next two days to make the journey across the Bank. Being the only power boat, we were departing on a different course than the rest since the sailboats had a deeper keel and were unable to traverse some areas along the Bank without running aground. The trip across the Bank was almost one hundred miles regardless of whether we choose to head to the Berry Islands or Andros Island so a night anchored alone in the middle of nowhere with no land in sight was something we had to prepare ourselves for. I said a prayer that night that the waters treated us well moving forward. Or at least better than that first dreadful night in the country one long week ago.

Tying up at St. Lucie South State Park, we were pleasantly surprised by the manicured camp grounds and extensive RV park. There were 8 boat slips and we were elated to snag one of the coveted spots for the next few days. Over the last few months Duane has racked his brain over what could possibly go wrong on our trip in the Bahamas and ordered spare parts and backup spare parts which were shipped to Bob and Stephanie’s home. Once we were situated, Bob and Stephanie drove all the packages over to the boat in addition to two cases of wine which I had ordered as my “spare parts” contribution. There had to be about twenty packages, big and small, which they had been gathering for us over the last few weeks. We were truly grateful for them going out of their way to accommodate our packages and for the convenient “door to door” service. That night the four of us had a delicious dinner at Shrimper’s on the water and they filled us in on all the happenings since we left home. We also made plans for them to pick us up in the morning to go to Walmart so we could fill up our newly purchased freezer and stock up on two months worth of goods to sustain us as we anchored throughout the Bahamian islands.

Walmart was a success and not as torturous as I envisioned. The next stop…Total Wine…was what dreams are made of. Aisle after aisle of tastings and samples while we perused through endless choices of rum and vodka as well as hundreds of varieties of craft beers could have occupied me for hours. Carefully selecting what we could feasibly store on the boat without having to resort to hiding bottles under my pillow, we emerged from the store more than satisfied. Bob and Stephanie were amazing and drove us everywhere we needed to go so we were able to easily provision for the journey ahead of us.

Our friends, Jeff and Darlene, who we met way back in Charlevoix, MI and then visited us in Grand Haven, had trailered their boat all the way to St. Lucie and were planning to travel with us for a week before we left for the Bahamas and they continued on to the Keys for a short vacation. The night they arrived we had them, Bob and Stephanie over to the boat for drinks and had lots of laughs as the sun set and the gentleman in the RV next to the docks serenaded the park with a rendition of Taps on his bagpipes. This brought back pleasant memories of traveling to Mackinac Island which now seemed a lifetime ago.

Darlene made lasagna the next night which we devoured as we discussed our planned route and possible stops the next few days once we traversed through the lock and started traveling on to the Intracoastal Waterway (ICW). A wind and wave advisory had been issued in the area for the next two days so we decided to reserve our slips for another 48 hours and not move on until the conditions were more favorable. Bob and Stephanie invited the four of us as well as their neighbors, Chris and Miley, over their beautiful home for dinner the following day. After a day of shopping in more marine stores than I cared to, having a relaxing evening and a delicious home cooked meal was definitely what I needed.

Waiting out the weather another day, we made sure the boat was ready to move on, and then went to Happy Hour at the Dolphin Bar. Very apropos as Dar and Jeff’s boat was named the Nauti Dolphin. After a few drinks we made our way to the Boathouse to meet Bob and Stephanie to say farewell, thank them again and enjoy some fresh fish.

The winds did not calm as predicted so we sat tight one more day. As Darlene was getting things on their boat secured, I decided to go shopping with the boys for a few last minute items. Big mistake! Duane had us out for five hours traipsing in and out of each and every store on the strip and I never did get the carpet sweeper I had set out to purchase that day. Oh well…hopefully the sun is shining in the Bahamas so I can keep the dust buster charged.

A week passed by in the blink of an eye and we were in and out of the St. Lucie lock in the morning just as quick. Bob and Stephanie ended up taking their recently purchased golf cart through the neighborhood to the beach and waved to us passing by going toward the Intracoastal. We were headed to West Palm Beach and go-fast boats waked us every step of the way. Passing Peanut Island, we radioed Nauti Dolphin who travel much faster than us and agreed upon anchoring in Clematis.

After securing the anchor, Jeff swung by and we hopped on their boat so we could go to town. Tying up at the day docks, we walked over to ER Bradley’s to listen to the band, have some tacos and a few cocktails. Just by coincidence, Duane’s tenant, John, who is renting his boat slip in CT with his girlfriend, Jenna, was in town on business and stopped by to hang out. Heading back to the anchorage, we all collaborated and thought it was a great idea to raft up together for the night.

The next day started off with confusion which carried on throughout the day. First off, the anchor buoy somehow got wrapped around the prop and, unable to dislodge it, Duane had to dive under the boat and wrangle it off. All the while, Jeff positioned his boat to keep us clear of drifting aimlessly toward anyone else. After an hour, a wet Captain in tow, we were on our way. All throughout the day we waited for bridge after bridge to open while dodging coconuts and being rocked by the inconsiderate boaters racing off to God knows where. We still hadn’t decided on an anchorage in Fort Lauderdale as we had conflicting reviews on the two options we had researched. Since Nauti Dolphin did not have the height we did, they were far ahead of us after we both fueled up and planned to scope out both areas before we arrived. Trying to beat the next bridge, we neglected to get a pump out which put us in a little predicament as the green light was flashing warning us the tank was just about full. After scooting under the Atlantic Avenue bridge, it was getting dark, so we anchored in the first anchorage located in Sunrise Bay among the multi million dollar mansions. Nauti Dolphin, however, had made it to the second anchorage and settled in for the night.

We woke up early to a beautiful sunrise ready to tackle another day. As Duane drove, I had all the books out and was googling marinas we could stop at for water and a pump out, as well as a place to stop for the night in Miami. Hollywood Marina was very accommodating and assisted us in the pump out and let us top off our water tanks. With that task completed, we motored on checking in with Jeff and Darlene as they left their anchorage and followed us. A few hours later we decided to get a slip at the Bill Bird Marina in Haulover in North Miami. Reasonably priced, I would be able to get all our laundry clean before we crossed the Gulf Stream to the Bahamas. Jeff and Darlene had gifted us with a Thermacell lantern which was fast becoming a valuable asset to ward off the numerous mosquitoes that swarmed the waters at dusk.

The next few days we enjoyed fresh fish purchased from the local fisherman on the docks, went to town to have cocktails at the beach bar and even stumbled upon another Total Wine. One evening we had a delectable meal of blackened swordfish accompanied by Creme Brûlée expertly whipped up by Darlene in the instant pot.

We had been looking at the weather forecasts and getting some valued predictions from Marv and Chris Parker, and, though it wasn’t going to be ideal, Duane felt that we should peak our head out on Monday, January 27th, and attempt to cross the Gulf Stream over to Bimini, Bahamas. The final afternoon at the marina, we all boarded Bella Donna and decided to party like locals on the sandbar outside the harbor. It was a spectacular day for people watching as the sun shined and each boat tried to one up each other with outrageous antics and loud club music. It was like being in a Miami nightclub at two in the morning.

The next morning we bid farewell to our great friends and buddy boat, Nauti Dolphin, who we had an exceptional time with the last 10 days, and set out of the harbor to test the waters. The Haulover Inlet is very temperamental and sometimes difficult to cross. The inlet even has an Instagram account which broadcasts mishap after mishap of boats trying to traverse under the bridge into the open waters. Luckily for us, the wind was barely 10 knots and there was only a slight chop on the water. As we went further and further, the swells increased but the Captain was confident that this was a very doable crossing and we pushed on. In 57 miles we will be in the Bahamas!

It was a pleasant trip back North that day and we had one last encounter with Shoreline Traveller as they happened to pass us on the water on their way South. We exchanged pleasantries over the radio and as they drove off out of sight, we had our destination set heading toward Captiva Island. Anchoring right off the channel near Green Flash Restaurant, we took the dinghy to the docks to have a few drinks. That evening we had reservations at the Bubble Room…a Christmas present from Duane’s mom and his sister, Lisa. Eclectic and full of memorabilia covering every surface of the establishment, the decor was an assault on all your senses. Our dinner was scrumptious and the desserts were as extravagant as the interior decor. We were so full after the meal, Duane had to loosen his shorts on the walk back to the boat.

The wind was picking up the next two days so we decided to stay put and enjoy the aesthetics of our surroundings. We went ashore the following day and stumbled upon RC Otter’s which was a lively joint a block from the ocean. We sat on the deck enjoying the one-man band and 2 for 1 Happy Hour specials. Just as the sun was setting, we strolled toward the beach and grabbed beers at Mucky Ducks and took our place along the sand dunes to watch the sun go down. People lined the entire stretch of the water and a blow up Santa was perched on a sandy hill swaying in the wind. With a roar of applause, the crowd bid farewell to another glorious day. The anchorage was calm and serene, and upon returning to the boat, Duane mixed us up some cold rum cocktails and we sat on the bow breathing in the fresh air and gazing at the thousands of stars twinkling above.

Waking up the next morning, we decided to tool around in Baby Belle and drove out to the Gulf and explored the shallower areas we couldn’t get to otherwise. Sufficiently parched after the island tour, we pulled the dinghy up to the beach near Tween Waters Marina and made our way to the Oasis Pool Bar to partake in some refreshing frozen Piña Coladas…with a rum floater of course.

The next day we leisurely got the boat ready as we were headed for lunch at Grandma Dots on Sanibel Island a few miles away. The island was a renowned spot to visit and we were eager to see what the hype was all about. The small oasis surely did live up to its reputation, as the food at Grandma Dots was exceptional and we capitalized on the rest stop by taking time to walk the lovely grounds before we were off again headed to Fort Myers Beach. We were spending the next few days in Fort Myers Beach in preparation for crossing though the Okeechobee Waterway onto Florida’s East Coast.

The trip over to Fort Myers was choppy and windy and, with the current against us, we were moving at a very slow pace. Arriving into the area by late afternoon, we hooked up to a mooring and went ashore to Matazama’s Inn to settle our bill. We strolled down to the beach and were just in time for Happy Hour so we bar hopped our way along the sandy stretch enjoying the sights. On the dinghy ride back to the boat we caught a familiar sight at a mooring not far from us…Samantha…so we stopped by to say Hello to Cathy and Kirk who we have not seen since that fateful night crossing the Gulf when Dancing Bears was in distress.

We have been in contact with Jim and Wendy since we last parted ways and they owned a condo in Siesta Key and offered to pick us up the following evening. Upon collecting us just outside of town, we went for drinks at the Beach Bar near the condo. The beach bar just so happened to be next to the 9 foot high bridge that I slightly misjudged and attempted to drive under a few days prior. Needless to say, at 16.8 feet, we would not have made it under the bridge fully intact. One near miss I did not want to be reminded of.

Their condo was so airy and refreshing and they had a marvelous view. If you can’t be relaxing on your boat, this was the next best place to be. Plus, Pumpkin was there and Duane was having a great time playing with his little pal. Meeting some of their friends, we went to town for dinner and late night chocolate martinis at Blasé Cafe. Jim and Wendy were the ultimate hosts and, after waking up to a lovely breakfast followed by a walk on the beach, we were sad to have to go. As you travel day by day and meet a multitude of people, they were true friends who we feel privileged to have in our lives.

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After Jim and Wendy dropped us off at the grocery store closer to Fort Myers, Karin and Tommy, who had come back from New Jersey to enjoy a few days of warm weather, offered to chauffeur us and the groceries back to the boat. You can never underestimate the generosity of friends. Food stowed on the boat, we went ashore to meet them at Petey’s Bar for some ice cold beer and pizza. Strolling down the road, we saddled up to the bar swings at the Yucatan Bar and Grill and continued with the flurry of travel stories of the trip. Duane liked to embellish our adventures just a little bit at my expense to get a good laugh.

We had ordered a freezer in anticipation of our two month trip to the Bahamas in a few weeks. We intended to load up with as much food as possible as we were wary about how easily it would be to obtain groceries on the less populated islands of the Bahamas. Lifting a huge weight off our shoulders, Karin and Tommy picked the freezer up at the store for us and brought the heavy load down to the dock. To go a giant step further, Tommy went with Duane to wrangle the freezer onto the dinghy and bring it safety back to the boat on the mooring. Definitely above and beyond, we were more than grateful for the assistance. Me more than anyone as that let me off the hook from some heavy manual labor.

After the boys returned from their excursion, we went down to the beach for lunch at Salty Crab and watched the surfers and paddle boarders making the most of the beautiful weather. We planned to leave in the morning, so Karin graciously suggested we come back to their home and, after taking a nice hot shower which we did not have to wait on line for, they treated us to a delicious sushi dinner at a local restaurant. It was definitely a bitter sweet feeling saying farewell as we had such a wonderful visit, but we were also looking forward to the days ahead and ultimately landing in the crystal blue waters of the Bahamas.

We decided to move the boat closer to the Fort Myers Yacht Basin the next day for two reasons. Duane had contacted his cousins, Gina and Bruce, who lived in the area, and they decided to drive down to meet us at The Lodge for dinner. The second reason was more obvious as it was Duane’s last chance to visit the taco window in the courtyard. Believe me, he made the most of it and stocked up on enough tacos to last the next few meals. We had a lovely evening with his cousins and went back to the dock well after dark. Our dilemma now was to move the boat from the day dock, which we were required to vacate by 10pm, and locate our mooring in the pitch dark. I secured my headlamp and grabbed the boat hook and took my position on the bow readying myself for the task at hand. After searching for what seemed like hours, our lights finally zeroed in on the white ball. What ensued the next thirty minutes was more like a calamity of errors trying to wrangle the mooring ball and slip a line through the pendant. The first attempt almost pulled me off the boat into the darkness as the boat hook I grabbed may not have been the best choice as it got wedged into the metal eye of the ball and I was unable to dislodge it. Making a second pass, when I was able to get a firm grip on the pole stuck on the mooring ball, I pulled with all my might and both I and the boat hook landed onto the hard surface of the bow. The third and the forth tries were no better as the ball bounced up and down seemingly just to antagonize me. Sensing the Captain’s frustration, I knew I had to change my tactical approach. He got the boat close enough to the ball on the fifth try that I was able to lie flat on the bow pulpit on top of the anchor and snag the mooring. All was now good and I gave myself a pat on the back for the ingenious idea. The darkness had really thrown me off my game, and I knew I would soon be getting a lesson and some pointers for “next time.”

The next morning I said good riddance to mooring ball #4 and we emerged onto the Okeechobee Waterway where we were to encounter a series of locks over the next two days. The Franklin lock only raised us 2 feet and, unlike any other locks we’ve passed though, they opened the doors slightly to let water in on the far end of the lock to accomplish the balance between the sides. Arriving at the LaBelle City Docks, we were able to tie up for free as well as hook up to power and water. Once the power was flowing through the boat, I took advantage and charged everything from the flashlights to the dust buster to Duane’s toothbrush. I also whipped together a huge batch of chili to sustain us the next two travel days.

Heading off early, we were soon tied up in the Ortona lock. Raising us about 8 feet, it was like a tidal wave was unleashed when they cracked the doors and the water flooded in. I held on to the rope tightly as Duane laughed at my shocked expression from the pressure of the water exerted on the boat. We made passage through the Moorehaven lock a few miles along without incident and decided to head to Clewiston and tie up between two dolphins (a set of pilings not the marine mammals) before dark. The dolphins towered above the boat and I had to stand on my tippy toes with a fully extended boat hook to get the line secured to the cleats. The boat felt like a hammock rocking back and forth between the two posts. It was hot and buggy so we sealed up the boat as best we could and stayed inside the rest of the evening.

The next day we flipped the lines off the dolphins and we shot across Lake Okeechobee. Because of the water level, the Mayaca lock was open to pass through so we cruised onto the St. Lucie Canal arriving at St. Lucie South State Park where we had reserved a slip. Our friends from Connecticut, Bob and Stephanie owned a home in Stuart and we were anxious to see them as well as their new house located a few miles away. We had highly anticipated this visit and looked forward to relaxing and catching up with friends before we began to head South on the East Coast full steam ahead preparing to cross the Gulf Stream.

As we approached the docks of the Fort Myers Yacht Basin, we saw Pierre waiting to help us with our lines. Renee had flown home to Canada for a visit and wasn’t returning until the evening so we made plans to get together for docktails upon his return from picking her up from the airport. This gave me time to toss in some laundry and organize the interior of the boat which has become a mini disaster over the last few travel days when we were constantly on the move.

A few hours later, we grabbed some drinks and we headed over to Shoreline Traveller and were introduced to Jeff and Susan aboard Gran Vida. We all chatted and laughed about the unexpected trials and tribulations of boat life and Renee and I caught up as she showed me pictures of her beautiful family back home in Canada. We confirmed plans to meet in the morning to head to Fort Myers Beach for Christmas Brunch. Christmas on the beach was going to be a first for both of us.

I had managed to hide a few small “presents” to put in the Captain’s stocking and, as no surprise to me, he was elated to have more cans of his favorite snacks -sardines and dried seaweed. We weren’t supposed to be exchanging gifts, but he actually pulled one over on me and whipped out the seahorse tote bag I had been eyeing back in Canada. I think he was very pleased with himself as he knew by my smile he had gotten me the perfect gift…well aside from wishing he had installed auto pilot…but I certainly was not complaining.

Brunch was a delicious buffet at Lani Kai restaurant right off the beach overlooking the ocean. People had flocked to the area from all over and were definitely in the Christmas spirit even though the climate was far from the winter wonderland we were accustomed to.

The rest of the week was spent exploring the town of Fort Myers. We strolled with Renee and Pierre to the Edison Ford Estates and were pleasantly surprised by the massive grounds, architecture and preservation of the historical element of that age. Thomas Edison and Henry Ford, being good friends, purchased winter homes next to one another and it was here that they hatched many of their groundbreaking ideas and inventions. The botanical garden where Edison grew various plants for experiments, as well as those planted just for beauty, was a testament to his vast intellect.

Realizing that one of the great resources we relied on for our weather forecasts, Marv Market, lived in the area, Duane sent him an email to see if he was interested in meeting for a drink as our way to say Thank You. We were happy that he accepted the invitation and we planned to meet him and his wife, Carol, later in the week at the restaurant Pinchers located at the Edison Ford Marina. And, to our good fortune, Debbie and Steve were docked at that very marina on Gypsies Palace. We had met Debbie and Steve on the sixth day of our trip (we are now on day 135) and we looked forward to catching up with them that evening. Gypsies Palace was even more spectacular than I remembered and we enjoyed drinks on the upper deck discussing how far we had come since the novices we were when we met back in Kingston, NY. They are a lovely couple who we relish the chance to speak with and gain any wisdom from that we can.

The afternoon that we were all headed to Pinchers to meet Marv in the evening, I had made plans to catch up with my old college friend, Karin, her husband, Tommy, and their two beautiful daughters at Ford’s Garage. Duane and I had already eaten at Ford’s and they hands down had the best burgers I’ve tasted since NYC – sorry “cheeseburger in paradise.” I hadn’t seen Karin since we met in the city months and months ago when this trip we were on was just an idea. Now that the dream had come to fruition and we had landed in Florida thousands of miles from where we started, it was so great to see them and laugh over the times we’ve had along the way.

Duane said meeting Marv was like meeting a legend and he was so happy to put a face to the name we had come to rely on day after day. He and his wife, Carol, were such a pleasant couple and diehard Packers fans. We were happy that the other boaters we were in contact with took the time to also meet him and we all had an enjoyable evening.

With the week almost coming to a close, we decided to go to the courtyard and listen to the band and have tacos from the take out window. That was one of the best decisions we had made thus far, as the tacos and loaded nachos were out of this world. I know Duane was making a mental note to schedule a return trip when we came back through town in little over a week to head through the Okeechobee Waterway leading us onto the East Coast.

Our last night in Fort Myers we met up with Renee and Pierre and had sunset drinks on the rooftop of Firestone, stopped by Izzy’s for oysters and strolled the courtyard. This was one last chance we would have to enjoy docktails together before we were off on our separate ways once again as we were off to Naples for New Years and they soon would be heading to Marathon.

And just like that, as quick as we arrived and Pierre helped us tie up, we were bidding them farewell as they tossed us our lines.

That afternoon we arrived at the Naples City docks after enduring 2-3 foot rollers out on the Gulf for the better part of the trip as well as typical Florida boat traffic which is basically chaos. Salty Paws was at a mooring, but leaving shortly to head South so we said a quick Hello and wished them safe travels. It was New Years Eve and we were meeting our friends Staci and Terrance to ring in 2020 at Terrance’s family condo on the ocean. To say the property was breathtaking would be an understatement. The “maid’s quarters,” which we had the pleasure to be staying in, was bigger than my old Manhattan apartment and had a bed more comfortable than any hotel. Terrance’s parents’ penthouse was grand and so tastefully decorated it could have been featured in a magazine. It was delightful to meet his family and soon we all headed off to dinner at Lamoraga Restaurant to continue the evening festivities. Duane and I were soon being served a four course meal that was definitely in a class way above the engine meals we were used to. When the meal came to a close, Richard, Terrance’s dad, insisted on covering the cost. It was way too generous and we were so thankful to be just included that we couldn’t thank them enough. Richard and Michele asked us all to come back to the penthouse and watch the ball drop and ring in the new year to round out the picture perfect day.

The next few days were spent relaxing on the beach, floating in the pool, having Mexican train tournaments in the illustrious cabana (which was actually three cabanas combined and, again, larger than my old apartment), eating like kings and basically being treated like royalty. We originally only planned to stay the one night, but being as generous and welcoming as they were, Richard and Michele opened their home to us for the next few days. We went to check on Bella Donna the third day and move her to a mooring while grabbing more clothes as well as our laundry which Michele so thoughtful suggested I bring back.

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New Year’s Day we were again treated to an outstanding “recovery” brunch at Club Pelican Bay. They served everything from omelettes and pancakes to sushi, shrimp and steak to mention a few things. They also had a Bloody Mary “recovery” station being carted around to each table. We were in our glory! The donut tower with flavored dipping sauce topped off the extravagant meal.

That night Michele had made plans for all of us to go out again, this time to La Pescheria where again the meal was top notch and we were treated like family. Terrance’s son, Dawson, and the four of us stopped off for some drinks at Tommy Bahama after the meal and made our way back to the cabana for a late night cocktail.

If we were not being taken out, we were being treated to the best food poolside. Terrance was in charge of the barbecue and served up swordfish, snapper, filet mignon, ribs and crab cakes that could rival any restaurant and you couldn’t beat the view. It was definitely going to be hard to go back to our simple routine after the last 5 days. We were so thankful and blessed for the hospitality bestowed upon us.