When planning for our voyage, we ran into many opinions and philosophies “Go cheap and go now” turned out to be the one that made the most sense.

We looked at taking sailing and cruising courses from the American Sailing Association, but the cost was prohibitive. For the both of us to take the classes that would bring our skills up to the level of cruising would have cost as much as the purchase price of our 27 foot Albin Vega sailboat ($6,000)! So we decided to use that money to get the boat instead. Better in our view to learn by doing and afford to have a boat and cruise it than to pay for such an expensive class and have no money left over for a boat or cruising!

One of our friends went to the British Virgin Islands for a week, and he spent more on airfare and renting a boat there for one week than we spent on our entire voyage of a half a year so far!

We’ve met many people along the way who have told us how they would love to do what we are doing. Many plan to go cruising “in a few years.” Some have been planning for far to long and may never actually get to it. Often people have a three year plan to get off of land and onto a boat. Surely a mortgage, career, children and pets can all bind you to a life on land.

Still, houses can be rented. Careers can be closed or changed. Children can be “boat-schooled,” and pets can be brought or given away. There is no guarantee of the future, and no one will make your dreams happen but you. So whatever it is that you dream of, let us encourage you to “go cheap and go now.” Your dreams do not have to be expensive, and Lord knows that what gets put off to tomorrow may never happen!

We heard a story of the weather last year here in Morgans Bluff. The wind blew out of the east for three weeks straight. All the cruisers that were anchored here were trapped here, and all the cruisers in Fresh Creek, 35 miles south of here, were trapped there. No one could travel north or south along the coast until it let up.

We decided to come here because our course to New Providence was fairly rough as it was into the wind and into the chop, and the waves were only 3 or 4 seconds apart. So now we are “trapped” here because the seas have built up even more and the winds haven’t let up either.

It’s a nice place to be—stuck in a sweet spot like this with other friendly people. I just dinghied out to the main entrance channel to check the wind and waves and weather. The seas are still up, although the winds are fair. I could see a large squall in the distance. The atmosphere is unstable and turbulent. If it’s this way now, I can see it getting even more turbulent as the day heats up. We’ll stay put for now.

We had planned to go south to Fresh Creek before heading eat across the Tongue of the Ocean in our little Albin Vega sailboat. It’s a great place to check out, but the holding is poor and the current is reversing and strong and there is no protection from the northeast. They used to have mooring balls for $10 a night, but they are not in service any longer, like most things here. Now the only option for staying there with a boat is a $45 per night slip. Fresh Creek is far enough south that you can sail directly east from there to make it to the Exumas. Also there is a weaving community there that we’d love to visit.

There is an inside route between Andros and the great barrier reef, but it is strewn with coral heads and should only be attempted by an active and perceptive crew on mid-tide on a rising tide in peak mid-day sun. If you go aground any other way you may never get off, and there are not many people around to help. There is no TowBoat US to call on channel 16 to help. You are pretty much on your own.

While diving yesterday I discovered a sunken wreck in the inner harbor entrance channel. Hiding in its stern were 6 lion fish. Along the bank 100 yards out were another 3 lion fish. These are amazing creatures, although they are an invasive species that is wreaking havoc on the ecosystem. Rumor has it that people had them as specialty fish in their saltwater aquariums (~$1,000 per fish), but let them go into the wild when they couldn’t keep them.

They are not only invasive, but they have no natural predators and they are venomous. Man, are they beautiful though. One of the cruisers here, Francois, got “stung” by one on his elbow. It literally swelled up larger than an apple or orange, and it’ll take him three months to heal from it. Their venom is serious. The fish can be eaten if handled and de-spined properly, but there is as-yet no market for this supposed delicacy. Lots of people buy them for their aquariums, but not here in the Bahamas. Therefore none of the fishermen are hunting these fish and their population grows unchecked.

In honor of Easter, we cruisers had a potluck dinner on the beach at the North Andros Festival Market Place. This is where the regatta is held every June. What a delightful and assorted group of people have assembled here! Allan, the Irishman, bent our ear about traveling to the Mediterranean and Scandinavia. He encourages us to sail across the Atlantic in the trade winds from Bermuda to the Azores to Spain rather than to take the northern route through Nova Scotia, Greenland, Iceland, and then Scotland. Going that way, you are sure to hit storms and heavy weather, he says. In his opinion there is no finer sailing ground than Denmark, where you can get a slip anywhere for $15 per night. Who knows if such a trip would ever come about, but it is fun to think on it.

For now we are content enjoying this splendid place that holds us while considering the next stop on our journey eastward. We are learning so much by living this way!

It was a mystery to me before we arrived in Andros, why this should be one of the least visited islands in the bahamas. It is not only the largest island in the Bahamas, but it also has lots of fresh water, one of top 3 barrier coral reefs in the world, and other interesting things like “blue holes”, which are holes thousands of feet deep that have fresh water on the top and salt water underneath.

Andros is magical and beautiful for all these reasons. People are very friendly and if you are walking along the road many people will stop and offer you a ride. It is not as expensive as other parts of the Bahamas. They grow some fresh produce here and there are white sand beaches with no one on them. But it is a strange place too. I’m starting to see that there is a reason why not many people live here. Most of Andros is comprised of marshes and mangroves and generally uninhabitable space. Apparently in the interior of the island it gets unbearably hot and there are killer flies and mosquitoes that will eat you alive.

The Northeast corner of the island, where we are now, is the main population center. North Andros is very dry and covered with scrubby brush and stick thin tall pine trees. There seems to be almost no soil — the land is comprised entirely of limestone rock. The landscape feels prickly and dry and neglected. There is lots of trash on the ground. A feeling of inertia hangs heavy in the air. There are a surprising amount of abandoned buildings that are in various stages of construction. In many places you see a concrete foundation and some walls that are about half finished, and then the entire project was abandoned and it all just sits there. These types of houses abandoned in mid-construction seem more numerous than finished houses. Even some of the houses that are finished and occupied have such a look of neglect to them, that it is sometimes difficult to tell if a house is abandonded or occupied.

Today we went to the top of a hill — the first hill we have seen in about 4 months!!! On the top there was a property that had the most fabulous view over the ocean. This was a piece of real estate that in any other place I know of would fetch TOP dollar as an exclusive ocean view property. But here, there was a very odd abandoned house. Part of the house was quite old, with peeling paint and rusted door hinges. The inside walls had lots of strange holes in the sheetrock and it was partially torn apart, as if renovations were being done but never completed. In the back of the house was an addition/remodel project that was left seemingly quite abruptly — piles of sheetrock and nails and tools were still sitting there, but it looked as if years had gone by since anyone was there. Weird piles of trash covered the property.

Cap’t K. and I fantasized about what we could do with this beautiful spot….it would be a perfect hang gliding launch, or perhaps an artist retreat.

But there are also neatly maintained concrete houses and there is a fabulous tendency in the Bahamas to paint buildings pink and lime green and bright blue. Government buildings seem particulary likely to come in these colors. The police station we passed today was entirely painted a cheerful pink color..would you ever see that in the States?!

One of Andros Island’s claims to fame is that supposedly Captain Morgan’s cave where he stashed his pirated loot is here. Today we walked to the cave and explored it. It was a hole in the ground under the pocked limestone that went a few hundred feet back, and even came back out through another secret entrance. It was quite dry in there, and refreshingly cool. There was just enough light coming in the entrance to make it not too dreary, and we could imagine cave people happily living there. It would be a great place to get out of a hurricane, and not a bad place to stash some extra trunks of gold.

Here in the harbor where we are anchored, there are about 6 other sailboats. Some very interesting people end up here. When we first arrived we were soon greeted by a couple on a boat called Gitana del Mar. Jennifer and Michael are just a wee bit older than us, and are traveling with 2 of their children, who they are “boat schooling” on their 36 foot boat. They are from CT, so they are New Englanders like us. Micheal is a professor for an online university program and has managed to work as a teacher and also a writer while they travel. Jennifer is a yoga teacher and has been leading informal, free yoga classes almost every day in a little round hut on the beach, with the absolute most beautiful view of the ocean. That has been a special treat! Their children Mariah and James, who are 16 and 12, are wonderful, well mannered, and intelligent kids. They have been showing us around and giving us the scoop on where to go to get water, vegetables, internet access, etc.

Then there is Allan, an Irishman aboard a big, heavy steel boat called Cheal. He’s been sailing most of his life in Ireland and is now cruising the world. He has a marvelous Irish accent and is extremely witty and funny. He uses the word “wee” on a regular, daily basis.
He is planning on doing a solo circumnavigation of the world WITHOUT STOPPING next year. Only crazy people do that. He is amazing. I really like him.
And on the boat “French Summer” is Francois, another single-handed sailor. He and Allan and the Gitana del Mar family have been sailing together for awhile, and they have now formed a big floating family that really takes care of each other. They share movies, and food, and dinghy motors, among other things, and they have taken us in to their circle. I absolutely love how cruisers look out for one another.
We have also met a very interesting retired couple aboard a small catamaran. Their boat is named Maffick, which is an old English word that means something along the lines of “unrestrained joyful merriment”. Mimi is an actress, among other things, and Richard was a theater director, so they are theater people who are now living on a boat. They are well into their 70’s, but don’t really look it or act it. They are wonderfully fit and active and engaged. I really like them a lot. They have been happily married for over 40 years and Richard claims he has been sailing for 70 years, so they are inspiring role models for us.

There is another boat here that is smaller than ours — Waltzing Matilda, a wee 24 footer. Nate and his tiny, perky dog Mattie live on that boat and they are from the backwoods of Arkansas. Nate is an eccentric, enthusiastic man out on his first cruise. He’s had quite a few major adventures already, many which involve running aground, and he loves to tell stories of his mishaps and how he got out of them. He has very innovative ideas about things such as building a solar still in his mast to create alcohol on board.

The main Bahamian friend that we have met here so far is Christopher,a fisherman and all around handyman who lives on a boat in the harbor here. We hired him to drive us around in his jeep yesterday and he took us (Mimi and Richard and Nate came along too) to the “Blue Hole” and a vegetable packing plant where we scored some free vegetables. Although he does his share of wheeling and dealing to make a buck, he is a warm and friendly man. After paying him a bunch of money to drive us around yesterday, he took a liking to Cap’t K and told him that we could just borrow his jeep anytime we wanted to if we just put gas in it. His jeep is named “Jeesus Creepers”, and is the most beat up vehicle you’ve ever seen. The back window isn’t there anymore, only a few of the doors open, all the fabric is ripped off the seats, the entire interior is covered in dust and trash, and the car does not have the gear “park”. We took it out today and Capt K. got to practice driving on the left side of the road. Christopher has a uniquely low voice and manner of speaking that you must hear to understand, so here is a little video clip of him talking while driving Jeesus Creepers.

-Lala

The Real Conch Republic

When we were in the Florida Keys we learned that Key West, and the Keys in general, like to refer to themselves as the “Conch Republic”. There are symbols everywhere featuring the beutiful conch shells, but because of their popularity, there are almost none left anywhere in the Keys. The only place we saw any was in the Dry Tortugas. You can buy the shells as Key West souvenirs in lots of shops, and guess where they all come from? The Bahamas! The Bahamas should be the place called the Conch Republic — they are everywhere here. I never thought I would see so many of these beautiful shells just lying around.

In case you aren’t familiar with the Conch, it is a large spiral shell that has a snail like creature living inside. They are popular to eat, although some people (including me) think they are a bit tough and chewy. One of the most common things to make out of them is conch fritters. It is notoriously difficult to get the meat out of the shell without completely smashing the whole shell. Usually, a small hole is punched in the top of the shell and then a knife is inserted through the hole to loosen the attachment of the conch inside the shell. Then the whole slimy thing comes sliding out the open ended part of the shell. Sometimes the shells are then patched up, polished and made into horns and sold to places like Key West where sucker tourists like us will pay $16 for them. Here in Andros the common practice is to toss the empty shells on the beach. There are gigantic graveyards of conch, hundreds of them laying in piles all along the waterfront.

Here at the local bar called “Willy’s Water Bar”, a guy named Gogi makes a delicious conch salad. It is basically like ceviche but with conch instead of shrimp or other raw fish. He mixes peppers, onions, lemon juice and other special sauce ingredients with a fresh, finely chopped conch. He makes it to order right there at a table outside the bar and you can watch him take out and prepare one conch for each salad that is ordered.

One other weird note about food — Andros supplies the Bahamas with vegetables, and one of their main exports is onions. (although I don’t really understand how they grow onions with the tiny amount of soil that is here) Right now is the onion harvest and there is an absurd abundance of onions everywhere. When Christopher took us to the vegetable packing plant there where whole buildings filled with onions. They are kind of like zucchinis in the summer in the North — you can’t even give them away, and people resort to sneaky tactics like leaving them on peoples doorsteps in the middle of the night to get rid of them. Christopher had huge bags of onions in the back of his jeep, and when we got back to the harbor he was pushing them on us. “Just take them, mon!! All of them” None of us needed that many onions, but somehow we ended up in our dinghy with enough onions to last us a year.

Some people say that if you don’t have what it takes to hunt and kill and clean and cook an animal, you shouldn’t eat meat. There’s some merit to that argument, although we all could challenge it. Big business had commodified meat and so many animals live in squalor and prison for their entire lives in order for big business to bring meat to market.

Part of the reason that we moved onto our Albin Vega sailboat, Wee Happy, was to become more self sufficient and to reduce our carbon footprint. Part of that means sourcing our own food rather than patronizing the capitalist system that produces meet for the masses. In that light, we’ve endeavored to learn how to fish. It’s supposed to be so easy that it’s a no-brainer.

Still, we are finding that the oceans are beyond over-fished. Coral systems, the life-blood of fish populations, have almost completely disappeared all around us. There are few reefs that still remain, and even fewer of those are even close to what one might call “healthy.”

So we’ve gotten a fishing license and basic rod and reel, etc. We’ve caught a few fish here and there in the keys, but not very much. Even if we were to be able to catch fish every day, we shouldn’t eat them every day. Fishing is not a dietary solution because you can not eat it every day. The fish are so loaded with mercury that there are very real limits to the amount that you should eat every week. What good is a diet loaded with fresh protein if you die of mercury poisoning?

So it is what is known as a catch-22 situation. You are damned if you do and damned if you don’t. The middle road seems reasonable however. If nothing else, we can learn to supplement our diet with reasonably healthy amounts of mercury laden fish. The younger they are the better, but that means catching more of them.

And then there is the fact that every fish you catch is one that you have to kill and then clean. Catching them is fun. Cooking them is fun. It’s the killing and cleaning that is a “steep learning curve.” Another way to say that is that killing and cleaning them sucks.

It’s good to be in touch with the life that you are taking when you eat meat. Distance breeds insensitivity. Having to hunt means that you meet the animal in its own environment on its own terms. You learn to love it and find it beautiful in its amazing perfectly situated niche. Then when you catch it and honor it and kill it you feel deep inside what it is that you are actually eating. Food from a store in packaging with colorful labels really does separate us from the reality of what we are consuming.

So today I, Capt’n K, caught my first fish by spearing them. I’ve been snorkeling with my spear for a while, but I’ve always been hesitant to take the fish that I see. I don’t want them to be too small. If they are then I’d have to kill to many to have a meal. I don’t want to kill to large of a fish, because then it would be more than Lala and I could eat in a meal, and we don’t want to waste any precious life. So I have been hesitant until I found the right ones.

Today was that day. A spear is violent compared to a rod and reel. It is also very grounding. It makes me realize that what I am doing: catching an animal for eating is violent. I use force and it inflicts pain, and it is all to fill my belly. I am no vegetarian, but I do honor life. And so I like spearing because it requires me to appreciate my food in an entirely new way. I am swimming with them, meeting them in their environment, and I must deal with the emotions and thoughts that come up for me as I endeavor to take life to bolster my own.

We left Bimini Harbor by 9:00 and happily raised our rainbow spinnaker on a broad reach to the north. Aaaaah, crystal clear blue waters, lovely sailing, and fresh breezes. Why did we take so long to get over here?
Our basic goal in coming to the Bahamas has been going to the Exumas Land and Sea park. We have completed the first leg of the journey, which got us into Bahamian waters, but now we have another LONG leg to go to get closer the Exumas. We have to cross the Great Bahama Banks, a shallow area of about 20 feet deep for 60 miles. In that space there are no islands, no markers, no nothing. Actually, there is a few major markers on the charts — One is for Mackie Shoal. On the chart it looks like it should be a major marker, with a blinking light, or at least visible for a good distance. When we finally reached it, we found that it was nothing more than a small pole sticking out of the water a few feet. There is another point on the chart called “Northwest Channel Light”. This is the point where boats decide where they are going after crossing the banks — down to Nassau, up to the Berry Islands, etc. It is the major intersection of this great expanse. Well, there is no light there, it was also little more than a stick in the water, barely visible until you were practically on top of it. We had heard a lot about navigational aids being poor or non-existent in the Bahamas, but come on — all the boats pay a fee of either $150 or $300 to come cruising here and they can’t afford a single light to mark a major shoal???

Anyway, back to sailing. We tried to sail for a long time with our beautiful spinnaker, and it was great while it lasted. But a front was approaching and the winds started picking up, so we decided to take down the spinnaker and motor sail with our jib to try to beat the squall before it came our way. We managed to skirt the storm, and then the winds died down and became “light and variable”. Our options at that point were to anchor out there in the middle of nowhere and wait for wind, or motor across the Banks. The winds were forcast to shift to the East and strengthen, so we decided to motor across in the dead calm now rather than try to fight east winds on the nose later.

We hadn’t actually decided where we were going yet. Or options included the northern part of the Berry Islands, Andros, or towards New Providence Island where we could jump off to the Exumas. After much consideration of where the wind might blow us the best, we decided to keep with our original plan of heading straight to the Exumas. Our friends Sara and Trevor are in the Exumas and we are hoping to catch up with them. If we dallied around the Berrys or Andros, we would probably never find them. It was fun for awhile, entertaining the idea that we could just end up at whatever island the wind blew us to, the only problem is that either there was no wind or the wind was coming from the direction we wanted to go…..such is the life of “sailors”.

By 5:30 the winds started blowing out of the east–right on our nose. Knowing that it would only pick up from there, we decided we’d better book it all the way across the banks now rather than later. Heading east across the bank in a strong head wind means lots of CHOP. So we found an anchorage on the map just a few miles from the Northwest Channel “Light” and got ready for another six hours before we could stop the boat.

It wasn’t bad though. It was the night of the full moon. The sun set at 7:30 and the moon rose at 7:30 too. So we were graced with a stunning sunset in the west and anticipation of a full moon rise in the east. By the time the moon was high overhead, Dolphins came to swim with our boat–dancing back and forth underneath the bow in the moonlight. the air was warm, and we saw a few other boats pass in the night. It was amazing to be in just 15 feet of water with no land anywhere in sight for hour after hour after hour. It was truly eerie.

After midnight we were exhausted. We’d gotten up at 06:30, so it had been a long day. We made it just northeast of the Northwast Shoal marker which actually doesn’t exist. It’s now just a GPS cooardinate on the chart of where a marker used to be. Regardless, we anchored a mile northeast of it which would keep us safely out of the channel but close enough where tomorrow we could get right back on our route.

A while after we stopped and settled into being still the cats came out of hiding and explored the deck of the boat. Mojo meowed the most mournful cry that seemed to say “HELLLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO???????” “Is ANNNNYYYYYoOOOOONNNEEEEE OOOUUUUUUTTTTTT TTHHHHHHHEEEEERRREEEE???????” We could tell he was thinking “where the hell are we? what the F…?”

so we rigged up a cob-jobb of a laser pointer with some old AA batteries and some wire and tape. That did the trick of pulling them out of their comas. they had been sleeping since Florida, you know! Theyy just love the little red dot from the laser pointer. We roughed them up a little, and then they got into a wrestling match with eachother which worked out some of their latent agression.

We on the other hand, left on every light that we have on the outside of the boat, set the anchor alarm for 400 feet and set the wake up alarm for 06:15 and then passed out sharing our bed in the v-berth with the dinghy’s outboard motor. Sweet. Our first threesome.

It was almost unreal to be on the ocean in 15 feet of water under a full moon with the water as smooth as a calm lake but translucent enough to see the bottom by the moonlight. What a weather window we had to get across the banks. It could only have been improved if we’d been able to sail the whole way rathern than having to motor half way. It’s good that we did though, because the next morning the winds would be out of the southeast and stronger…on the nose again, of course.

Just after sunrise, Capt’n K and SloMo caught a nap in the cockpit. Here they are waking up before landfall in Bimini.