(yesterday) The wind is strong out of the northwest today, filling the harbor with white-capped chop and a whole herd of boats. There must be 50 of ‘em anchored here, noses to the wind, and at least that many at the marinas. Joshua’s on shore, in search of internet and a connection with the outside world. I’ve been baking bread and quilting to Willie Nelson. Yeah, habit dies hard.
The VHF is on channel 78, a normally empty channel, and Joshua has the handheld on shore. No word from him, probably has his head in the clouds getting a good dose of email, downloading and Skype. The best place to scam internet that we’ve found is sitting in the grass behind the laundromat. On the radio, meanwhile, I did overhear a conversation about how to make meatloaf in a pressure cooker, and a couple snooty yachties trying to make cocktail and dinner plans. Jesus, they make me cringe, so helpless and so demanding. This really illustrates the range of people (or lifestyles) you’ll find in a group of boats. Some are out here to travel and experience the Bahamas or the joy of sailing. They catch their own fish, conserve their fresh water, and enjoy Milwaukee’s Best in cans in their own damn cockpits. And then there are the rich bastards on the mega-yachts with tinted windows and jet-skis dangling off the back that like to complain about the local restaurants but don’t think twice about dropping $50 on a skuzzy hunk of snapper. Disgusting. Meatloaf and cheap beer are humble if not necessarily virtuous.
It disturbs me that I have such a violent reaction to THEM. Really, there’s the whole continuum of folks out here, from rancid American capitalists to happy retired couples living the dream to righteous filthy hippies. On some level I’m a hypocrite for living on a fancy boat and turning up my nose at the bigger ones. Sure, my shit stinks too, but rude is rude, and when the wind blows the wrong way, we all get trapped in the same corner of the pasture.
We hope to escape soon, and get back to a place with good diving and water clean enough to take a bath off the swim deck. We’ve spent several nights at Manjack (said “nun-jack”) Cay, and loved it. The main anchorage is in a large bay between Manjack and Crab Cays, and has a strong wifi signal broadcast by a beneficent couple of cruisers turned back-to-the-landers (literally) living on shore. The north anchorage puts you within a mile of a good stretch of barrier reef, but is only comfortable in settled weather. We explored both ends of the island with our visitors a couple weeks ago.
Sarah, Viki and Ed, we miss you! It was great to have such good friends on board and to share this beautiful corner of the world. Sarah arrived by ferry midday on a Sunday, and we had a swim and a relaxing afternoon at Green Turtle Cay before sailing over to pick up Ed and Viki by the airport. This turned out to be something of an adventure. The wind was 20+ knots out of the SE, blowing up 2’ chop in the Sea of Abaco. On top of that a comparable swell was refracting through the Whale Cay Cut. We anchored off the windward shore, keeping the engine running with one eye on the rocks.
I stayed at the helm while Joshua tumbled into the dinghy and buzzed in to pick them up at the ferry dock. The bow of Perspective reared against the anchor rode, and the wind kept us pointed at an uncomfortable angle to the offshore swell and jumbled reflected waves from the mainland. It was a mess. And the sun was down with just a glow of red over the trees. Joshua pulled the dinghy up to the starboard side and bags and people piled up with the waves and down into the cockpit. As Joshua and Sarah were pulling in the anchor, they discovered that the flukes had neatly snagged an electrical cable. The bow was still bucking away, with Sarah crouched on the front. Joshua turned back to me and drew his hand horizontally across his neck and yelled something I couldn’t understand. That was not one of our carefully practiced anchoring gestures (point to go port/starboard/ahead, thumbs up to throttle up, down to reverse, etc.) The boat and waves kept thrashing with some luck they shook the cable off. Joshua pointed at me to “Go!”, and we got out of there and set the sails as fast as possible. Somehow nobody fell in the water, the anchor (or cable) held us off the rocks and the kitten slept through it all locked in the quarter berth. Anchoring in the new moon pitch black at Manjack was another story…
