Happy New Year's

Above: Clean water after I rinsed three shirts
the view from Alan's Cay
Yet another Bahamian sunset
Bougainvillea on Staniel
Rub a dub dub, dammit


JANUARY 1, 2008
Jack here. Hard to believe it’s 08. I’m here at the marina trying vainly to get online, and so I thought I’d write my new blog. Basically, I’m sitting here watching the signal strength show full strength, and no pages will load. There’s no-see-ums biting me, flying in my ears and around my eyes particularly. They’re kind of, um, driving me, um, nuts. I can’t go in because this is the only socket around. We are trying to get online and post, because there’s a cold front coming, which means 30 mph winds, and gusts to 40. That’s more than what ripped our jib sail to shreds this summer, so we expect to jet out of here, go around the corner where it’s sheltered and will probably be inside the boat for up to 4 days, depending on how severe it is, and if it lets up.
The bugs are crazy today. Usually, there’s none. And the weather is something I’ve forgotten to really report on. Pretty much 70-75 degrees every day, and 65 at night. Water temp almost always 75 or so.
The big news here is the New Year’s Eve races. I’ll keep it brief since Ruth will most likely write too. The highlights were as follows. Ruth and I both got picked to help crew Bahamian Class C racing sailboats in the small regatta. I heard one of the two boats was a good boat, so we drew straws and Ruth picked. She went on Termite, and I went on It’s Magic. It was a trip. There were six of us, three Bahamians, Magic, Kenny, and Sidney. Bruce, an older cruiser who had raced before, and a lady whose name I didn’t get.
Before the race, we got to the starting line and our sailhead ripped free from the sail. The cats I was with grabbed twine (loosely defined) and we tied it back together. It looked horrible, and weak, and like it was about to fail. “That’ll work, mon,” says Kenny.
The Bahamians did all the talking, and the accent is so thick you are lucky if you can understand one word in ten, literally. Especially once we started because they’re shouting, half angrily at each other the whole time, a million miles an hour.
“Sail the boat, man! Sail the boat!”
“I yam, mon, whot the fuck you think I’m doin?”
“Sail the boat mon!”
“I’m sailin’ it mon, watch the point! Fix thot prybar, mon!”
”I’m the bowmon, what the fuck you think I’m doin, mon?”
”Sail the boat, mon!”
etc.
Basically, my job, and two of the others was to be ballast, full time. One other was ballast, full time, and handled lines. The boat had two pry bars, 2x10, about 8 feet long, hooked under the rails, and we crawled out to the end as fast as we could to keep the boat from tipping, two on a board, feet up in the air, to be as much leverage on the board as possible, to keep the boat from tipping because they carry a lot of sail for a small boat, and I am not sure if there even is a keel. And when the wind blew hard, we would scramble to the end. When it eased, we scrambed back in, or halfway, or whatever it called for, while Magic and Kenny screamed incoherent Bahamian at each other and the other boats.
The boat was leaking like a sieve, and Bruce got enlisted to put his feet over the large holes to slow the water coming in, while the lady (I didn’t catch her name) bailed as fast as she could.
I’m running in and out on the pryboards, and Magic is at the tiller. All was fine till we swung around a tack and hit another boat that refused to surrender the right of way.
“STARBOARD BOAT, MON, STARBOARD BOAT!”
“WHWHWHWHWHHAHSAJSJSJAHAJJSJSJAJJA!!!!!”
“STARBOARD BOAT MON! WHOT THE FUCK YOU DOIN? OH, fuck. STARBOARD BOAT!!!”
BOOM!
The other boat was coming from our portside, at a 90 degree angle to us, and both of us going fast for the same point. We swing to the starboard at the last moment, they swing to theirs, and it’s not enough. Their guys are out on the pryboards, and as those sweep across our bow, they dive into the boat, and the pryboards clothesline our decks, hitting everything in their path, and our rigging.
We right ourselves, everyone is screaming at each other, or just in general, the lady is bailing (I didn’t catch her name), Bruce is holding the water out of the cracks as best he can, even as the rails dip below the water, I’m sliding up and down the board and Reggie is making blood oaths at the other boat.
Minutes later, he tightens the halyard on the sail and rips the top off it.
Everyone screams at each other, and we come in third.
Ruth’s boat won. I have no idea how we didn’t, with such a winning formula, but I guess that uncertainty is what makes it fun.
One boat sank. I think it’s still out there.
We had a great New Year’s. The first one ever where I didn’t talk to my Mom on New Year’s. That was a bit of a drag.
Okay, I have flies around my eyes like I’m a Biafran kid in a Bob Dylan song.
Gotta run.

Hope you see this soon. If you don’t, don’t blame me. I wish you all could see Staniel. It’s awesome. They have amazing food, if expensive (pumpkin bread as big as my hand for $7.50 that you would actually say was WORTH IT). Bahamian music playing constantly, nice people, good snorkeling, including Thunderball cave, I guess where they shot part of the James Bond movie of the same name. It’s a big grotto that you snorkel into at low tide (and out too, or you won’t get out) that’s supposed to have amazing fish. We haven’t seen it yet. We’ll letcha know.

XOX,
Jack