Up to the Abacos

            After a lovely stay at Governor’s Harbor, we sailed up to Hatchet Bay to wait for better weather. Hatchet Bay is very well protected, but we had some trouble setting our anchor and awoke one morning to discover that we had dragged across the bottom. My dad then decided that getting a mooring was a priority, so we spent a couple of nights on a ball there. The town there was rather gritty, but I had the opportunity to get on Skype for a bit and chat with friends back home, a much needed diversion.

            From Hatchet Bay we sailed up to Royal Island. Back in the 1930s, some wealthy foreigner built quite the estate on the island, with multiple fancy buildings and manicured terraced gardens. It fell into disrepair though and today is only a handful of decrepit stone structures, covered in graffiti and choked by the jungle. Exploring this place was fun, I felt like an adventurer that was uncovering Mayan ruins for the first time or something.

            My dad and I also did a little snorkeling at Royal Island. We tried spear fishing, but without success. Fortunately, our friend Erik fared a bit better and we enjoyed a scrumptious dinner of fresh fish on his boat that night. After living on a diet on beans & rice, mac & cheese, and other ‘boat foods’ for many days, fresh triggerfish was seriously heavenly.

            We sailed over to Spanish Wells on Monday the 4^th. Due to an upcoming storm, my dad miraculously decided to spring for dock space, a frivolous expenditure entirely unlike him. The marina where we tied up had a laundry facility and, drum roll please, SHOWERS. I couldn’t get into the shower fast enough. Normally I would have been disgusted by the grittiness of the facility, but after so many days of bathing in the ocean, any shower was a luxury. When I finally got out, we went and laundered the sheets. Clean laundry and a shower. Dang, my quality of life is improving!

            After using the marina’s amenities, we ventured out into town. This Bahamian island is unlike any other town I’ve been to. Most villages thus far have been a bit unkempt in appearance, lots of peeling paint and covered with trash. Spanish Wells is the opposite. The roads are lined with beautifully maintained, brightly colored houses with gardens overflowing with bougainvillea of every hue. The grocery store is giant, almost as large as the one back at home. There are trash bins at every corner and not a speck of litter ends up on the streets. There aren’t any stray dogs lying around and a single beggar did not approach us the whole time. It was entirely different than the Bahamas I had been traveling previously.

            Why is this town so much more prosperous than the others, one might ask? Spanish Wells is homeport to the most extensive fishing fleet in the Bahamas. This small settlement produces about 75% of the nations lobster, an impressive figure considering that the town has only about 1,700 people.

            Spanish Wells is a predominantly white island, another thing that makes it so different than the rest of the Bahamas. The first settlers there were American loyalists who left the U.S. shortly after the Revolutionary War in hopes of making a go of it in the Bahamas. (Since then, the gene pool hasn’t had much diversity. I swear, half the people there have the last name Pinder.) Some of the Spanish Wellsians I talked to were incredibly racist, an animosity I found interesting considering whites are by far the minority in this country.

            We spent a ton of time walking around town, just taking it all in. One day I went to an assembly at the high school with Rachel and Jake. It was the school’s annual “Cultural Fair” and this year the focus was on Spanish. We met some local kids there who ended up giving us a brief tour of the island later that afternoon. I also bought a cup of cookies and cream ice cream, which completely made my day. It’s funny, when you live on a boat; the simplest things cause such great happiness.

            After a pleasant stay in Spanish Wells, we left for the Abacos. The Abacos are the northernmost Bahamian archipelago and the last group of islands we will be traveling through before returning to the States. Our sail up took us over a section of the ocean that was 15,000 feet deep, a fact I probably would have thought was awesome if I hadn’t been face down in the cockpit dying of seasickness. I arrived alive however and spent the evening watching Shiloh with Rachel and Jake over on their boat and eating a pan of brownies.

            The next morning we motored over to Little Harbor. The entrance into the bay is very shallow and we barely made it in even at high tide. The harbor has lots of sea turtles and there is a big cave on one side that my parents and I climbed around in. There is a foundry on this island that was started by Randolph Johnson, a reclusive artist that spent the latter years of his life out on this island casting beautiful works of bronze. We got a tour of the foundry, which is still in operation, with a bunch of other cruisers. It was very interesting to see how something so dense can be melted into a liquid and turned into art.

            Saturday we left Little Harbor and anchored off of a nearby island called Sandy Cay. My dad and I went snorkeling on a spectacular ocean reef right off of the island. There were mountains of corals of every shape and size and brilliantly colored reef fish darting about everywhere. Sea fans waltzed gracefully as the oncoming swell rolled over. Angelfish nibbled algae from the menacing looking columns of elkhorn coal. It was the most fascinating, mysterious, and serene place ever. We anchored at a neighboring cay for the night.

            Yesterday morning we pulled up anchor and headed up to Hopetown. My father, ever the diehard sailor, insisted that we sail there, despite the fact that the winds were under 5 knots. After inching along under the hot sun for a few hours, even my dad became a bit disgruntled by our painstakingly slow pace and we fired up the engine. We got dock space at a lovely marina for only $20 per night, with access to a pool, Laundromat, and lovely gardens.

            We climbed the lighthouse here, which is one of three lighthouses world that still uses kerosene to produce the light. The panoramic view from the top was amazing. We walked around town for a bit after that. The island is dripping with charm. Brightly painted houses sit poised in their gardens along the narrow streets. Little shops sell flip-flops, groceries, sunscreen, and other necessities.  A large number of the homes are second homes to wealthy Americans, but it still has a nice, friendly atmosphere. Hopetown is very sweet.

            Today we’ll spend another day here in Hopetown, thanks to a whole lot of pleading on my part. My dad anticipates that we’ll be back in the US in about 2 weeks, but this is weather dependant and thus very subject to change. Leaving the Bahamas and returning to the fast paced life of America is going to be a major culture shock. I’m not sure that I’m ready to be headed north, but I’m sure that I will have fun. Here are some pictures of our adventure!

The view of Royal Island from the ruins.

Fishing boats at Spanish Wells.

Going for a golf cart ride with my cruiser friends on Spanish Wells one evening. From left to right there is Katie,
Jake, Eli, myself, Rachel, and Jessie.

Elkhorn coral off of Sandy Cay. The colors are much more vivid than this, my camera
doesn't quite do it justice.