LEAVING OLD BIGHT, by Jack Livingstone
SUNDAY, MARCH 9, 2008
Ruth and I have been on Cat Island for a few days now. We left Hawk’s Nest, and the Germans who thought I ate too much kingfish, and headed up the road to Old Bight. Old Bight was fine, but nothing was open.
On the way, we decided to have our “big fishing day.” I sat up figuring out how to do it the night before, planning how to catch more fish. After getting all the gear in order, I organized a tacklebox we just got into about forty compartments, got everything ready, blah blah blah. I finally figured that the best way to do it would be to troll like we had been, but use the downrigger to get the bait down where the fish were, and to put a series of hooks and lures on one line, to increase the chances of them getting seen/bit at. While Ruth drove us out to “the wall,” a dropoff to 1000 feet, I was busy stringing a long line of lures/leaders together, with about 10 lures on one 80 lb. line, a few feet apart. Carefully, we lowered it into the water, trailing it behind the boat, and finally, when we reached the bitter end of the line, I attached it to the fishing pole, and let out some line. I then took that line where it came off the pole, and attached it to the downrigger weight, and lowered the weight into the water. At the speed we were going, four miles per hour or so, the 150 feet of downrigger cable had the weight dragging behind the boat at about maybe 50 or more feet deep. Maybe deeper, who knows. What we did know though is that when we circled around and followed the wall, the waves sped up the boat. So when that happens, and you’re trying to troll slow, you slow the engine right? Wrong.
We slowed the engine, the downrigger weight started hanging more and more vertically under us as it trailed along, and WHAM! We felt something grab. The weight had hit a piece of coral or something along the dropoff, and a second later the cable broke. And then, weight, line and all of the lures were… gone.
So, that was our big fishing day.
I always used to want one of those hats that said “women want me, fish fear me,” except I wanted one that said “fish laugh at me.”
Ah, indeed they do, even still.
So we sailed on to Old Bight. Pulling in really close to shore and setting up shop, before dinghying in. Once on shore, we stopped in at the police station, and asked what was open, hoping to buy some things we were running low on. Like bread, butter, milk, cookies, the essentials, pretty much. We asked where we could buy such things, only to be met by blank stares, long pauses, and then some vague statements of something somewhere, that probably wasn’t open. We said screw it, and went a-walking. We found a “GIVE WAY” sign, which is the Bahamian counterpart to “Yield,” and threw that treasure in our dinghy to hang up somewhere in the States. We found a phone booth, and I called my Poor Old Mother, as she likes to refer to herself, and had a good conversation. She sounded neither poor, nor old, and exactly like my mother. It’s funny, how we view ourselves, and yet the world has a different impression…She sounded strong as an ox, and her usual exuberant self, rich with the blessings of life, and drunk on the beauty of her surroundings. So, anyway. My pore ol’ mudder is fine.
Leaving there, we experienced a miracle of sorts. Much as the Virgin Mary was spotted in a tortilla in Mexico some years back, and then later in a spot of rust on a statue of someone (I think it was Bono), Ruth spotted the unmistakable visage of another, lesser known saint, “the virgin Murray” in the knot of a pine tree.
“Saints be praised!” says I.
It was quite a revelation, and I’ll be jiggered if you couldn’t practically hear the trumpets of the angels heralding this discovery on such a blessed occasion. “Hark, hark!” the trumpets seemed to blare. In fact, it seemed that the whole world was suddenly bathed in an eerie golden glow, whereupon the faces of the local constabulary transformed into the approving, knowing looks of witnesses to the great discovery. We were all of one mind, at peace, and ready to go Murray’s discount auto stores for 10-15% off of everything in stock. If you look at the enclosed photos, you’ll notice it is replete with detail, right down to the signature locks of Crazy Murray, the Virgin’s blessed hairdo.
Further examination revealed several other miracles, including Saint Sebastian, Bono (from U2!), and that black guy from the Police Academy movies that makes all the funny noises.
We left there and walked up the hill a mile or two to the church of Beloved Father Jerome, an Englishman who built his home/church on the highest point of the Bahamas. It was really a sight. Very cool, and very impressive.
Also on the way, we looked at the Great House of Armbuster, or someone or other. “Great” seemed to be quite a misnomer really. We found it to be in disrepair and neglect, and lacking the deft touch of the maintenance men of Father Jerome’s house. In any event they were incredibly cool ruins of an old plantation house that had flowers, and ponciana trees even, growing inside. Did I mention that the Ponciana is my favorite tree? It’s got fern-like leaves, very delicate and tiny, and a really interesting bark, and is said to flower some incredible blossoms in the spring. I can’t wait. Those trees are awesome, flowers or no flowers.
Next door to that was another treasure, a house foundation (walls only, no floor or ceiling) that was filled with old bottles. When I say filled, I mean that it had about 2 foot of bottles on the floor, much to our delight. My first thought was to get some for my great friend Steve Wilson, so that he could bottle his beer in a few vintage bottles for kicks, and maybe for myself. Really though, they didn’t appear to be usable, most of them, because of the forms of the tops, not being conducive to receiving the bottle capper he uses. Either way though, there were some amazing artifacts. We also found a handle to an old stove, maybe a hundred years old or something. We stopped at the house next door to ask permission to take some, and the guy offered that we could take what we liked. He said many had been taken by a historical society already, and there were many that were 70-80 years old. I could believe that. We found some great ones- 50 year old ginger ale bottles with the label still painted on them, bottles from Trinidad, and one of blue glass, we’ll add to our collection that Colette gave us.
A side note there was the guy’s son, Lee, who came to the door with his father, Mr. Anderson. He said “I know you. Do you remember me?”
We confessed we didn’t, and scratched our melons trying to figure it out.
“Oh, maybe we all look alike to you,” he said.
“Man, don’t start that kind of crap, okay?” says I. “Where do we know you from?”
He couldn’t remember. What a prick. I can’t stand that crap, people trying to make a problem where none existed. Trying to make things racial when they aren’t. Shove off, my friend.
Next up was the Blue Bird Restaurant, where we had a nice meal, a few beers and played dominoes. Ruth won, as usual.
A really big fat American lady was walking her dog through the Church of Father Jerome, giving a tour to a friend and singing his praises was overheard to mention a cold front coming through. We chatted it up a bit and found out the details. I mention that she was big and fat not because I think it’s such a bad thing, but just that it’s funny that you can always peg an American from a half a mile off, while any other isn’t even visible until half that. I guess it’s just a glandular thing, and just a massive coincidence that all of the gland problems of the world ended up in the big melting pot of the U.S., with most of them landing right inside Louisiana. Incredible coincidence, that. Someone ought to study it.
In any event, we decided that after the Blue Bird, we’d hit the road. We threw the jib up and took off, and since it was windy as hell, it was about all we needed. Well, that and the engine. The other thing about us Americans: we’re a very lazy people.
Leaving Old Bight, which, if you can picture it, is the shape of a very large “C,” but facing the other way, we headed north along the top of the C shape to avoid the weather coming in from the west. We put out our grounding wire to the mast, as we like to do when we must sail in such weather, and headed up to Fernandez Creek Resort. Up at old Fernandez, we tucked into the tiny Fernandez Creek that gave the place its name. Patting ourselves on the back for our cleverness at having such a tiny boat with a shallow draft that can dodge into such places (the only other things that can get in there are small motor boats and catamarans, due to their shallow draft), we parked the boat (I think that’s the nautical term) and settled in. While there, Ruth and I had a squabble over something silly, and so, when meeting some people driving by in another boat who complimented us on our clever choice of anchorage, I told them “coming in here was MY idea!” to be a smartass. I was trying to get back at Ruth, who had questioned it on the way in, about whether it was a good idea. Boy did that backfire. Read on.
They told us to go to the resort where we could have a beer and free hors d’oevres, and pickup a bit of the old interweb. We headed in, and were not well received. I was wearing my Keens, (basically a rich man’s flip flop), dirty orange shorts, t-shirt and hoody, and some version of bedhead that I haven’t looked at in some days now. As though this wasn’t bad enough, Ruth was wearing her pink Crocs, some shorts that you couldn’t see, and hanging over those, making it appear that she was in the buff, was one of my old t-shirts I had been planning on contributing to the rag pile, due to the myriad stains all over it. I passed it off to Ruth because as her bandages have come off, she’s wearing loose clothes and bleeding all over them. So now, she looks like she’s wearing a giant men’s V-neck that’s been used to clean toilets or something. And it’s covered in blood and scabs, making it look like she just butchered a yak on the way in on the dinghy.
We’re told, much to our surprise, that we would need a reservation. Well, we said, we’ll just sit, order a drink to keep ‘em happy, and check our email.
We did that, but the interweb was incredibly slow (I’m pretty sure they shut it down to drive us out-seriously), but they brought around conch fritters while we coolly, classily, filthily, sipped our drinks, the very picture of elegance.
Taking a walk around, I found some really cool decorations. Much of the place was decorated from stuff taken from a sunken ship, including a treasure chest on the hearth, which the plaque said, had never been opened. (I’ll try to get a photo if we head in there. We might go tomorrow for lunch. We’ll see.) We checked the menu as well. The dinner that we couldn’t eat at was $45 a head. PASS! Lunch is a modest $12 for a hamburger. With chips. (what are you crazy? You think you’d get fries too, for that price?) Maybe we’ll have lunch there.
Anyway, while I was out sniffing around, Ruth met a guy who was the husband of a lady we met on the beach, walking to the resort. He had specifically walked up there to invite us to dinner. (I don’t know what gets into these people. If I had met us, I wouldn’t invite us to dinner, I’d be hiding my watch and putting my money in my sock…) He said it was their last night here, and they were having a cookout and we were invited. I guess he said that he didn’t want food to go to waste.
Never ones to turn away food, money, or free candy, we headed over. It turns out that these nice people are from… where else would such nice people come from? Kalamazoo! They actually live in Comstock, but that’s a coincidence. They fed us, offered us beer, bread, chicken, fruit salad, broccoli, and on and on. Kathy and Jeff, and we forgot to get a last name. Duh. Oh well. We got their email address, and they ours. We look forward to seeing them in mid-may. We told them we want to have a cookout then, probably a pigroast to celebrate all the people we missed so much, and invite them. They then offered that we could stay with them when in town, and have the cookout at their place. Can you believe that? Jeff is getting his P.H.D. and Master’s at Western, and Kathy works at Kalamazoo Community College? Not K.V.C.C. But the other one. I forget. Not K, not K.V.C.C. Anyway, awesome people.
We told them that they could come stay at our boat sometime when it was just floating around, but Kathy gets seasick, so they declined. I mention that so that you, reading this, know that we are serious about that invite, and really hope someone will help us make good use of this boat sitting here all the time, and not let it go to waste. Plus you could tell us if it’s still there or not. And if the water is still on the outside, and stuff.
Well, anyway. Jeff and Kelly’s place was really cool, decorated with more artifacts from shipwrecks. As we were leaving, they told us that they were done with their week here, and they wouldn’t be back, and were leaving a lot of food. They didn’t want it to waste it, so insisted we take it with us. They went further than that, saying their neighbors were now gone, and they had a fridge full of food too. They gave us all they had, including bread, milk, butter, eggs, COOKIES, beer, mustard, lemon juice, coffee, rice, pancake mix, celery, onions, cheese, coke, SALSA, syrup, tea, sugar, cornflakes, and more. All told, we had about 6 bags of food leaving there. All for free. Where do these people come from? Oh yeah. KalamaZOO.
We returned to the boat, and hit the sack. For a bit anyway. Shortly after our return, I was awakened by a knocking noise. It was the keel, gently bumping the bottom of the creek. A few things had happened that we didn’t count on: one, the tide wasn’t all the way out when we thought it was. Not a big deal though, since it varies about 3 feet total, and we were in about four feet of water when it was mostly out. We only draw about 2 feet, so we had some wiggle room. The other factor though, was that what looked like a little dead end inlet really was an actual creek. Not like we know it where the water flows one way, but more like, this is a path for the water to run through while some big swamp somewhere fills and empties. Dead end, my butt. Anyway, what had happened is that we didn’t count on so much water moving through this creek. It made the boat swing way to one side, even while the tide was low, and then it got lower, causing it to bottom out. To further exacerbate the problem, the cold front had started, so the wind had swung to the north now, and we were pinned to the gradually deepening south side of the creek. It’s always worse to ground out where the depth changes gradually, because the lateral forces on the boat can take you way further up on the land, counting the ups and downs of waves, than you could have if you just got pinned against a steep grade. So, needless to say, while Ruth gently slept, I gently wept.
Just kidding. I did have to get up though, and from 12:30 a.m. to 2:00, I was out there running the motor this way and that, trying to swing the boat out of it, to no avail. The other tactic was to go out and walk the anchor out into the deep water, and then back on the boat, tighten the line around a winch that I cleverly installed before our trip while trying to rock the boat, rev the engine, or whatever else. To no avail.
I gave up, and went to bed. Ruth, after all this racing of engine, splashing as I jump in and out of the boat, slamming of anchor, rattling of chain on the deck, swearing, yelling oaths at the sea gods, and on and on, wakes up to say “hey, I must have been asleep.” Now that, my friends is what you call good timing.
Well, then she got up to use the bathroom. A minute later, everything changed. Suddenly, the waves started crashing in at the rocks at the front of the creek. It was strange, because normally, these things are gradual. But anyway, it got suddenly very rough inside there, and the boat starts beating against the edge of the creek, and the rock that forms it. Desperate, we are now both trying to haul the damn boat out of there. After two and a half more hours of mucking about till 4:30, dragging anchors this way and that, tightening winches, revving engine, swearing oaths and just swearing in general, we are out in the center of the creek, or moreso, anyway. We put out three anchors 120 degrees apart, and turn in.
“Coming in here was MY idea!” is what I had said. Famous last words. Let that be a lesson: don’t ever brag credit for an idea, because the moment you do, you’ll find out that it’s your undoing. And don’t ever, EVER do it to be snide to your wife. Lesson learned. Goodnight all.
Monday, March 10, 2008
Some Hawk's nest photos
Editor's Note: I had photos that corresponded to this particular blog entry, as well as the next two, but can't seem to upload them. Keep an eye out for 'em later, blogfans! -Ed
HAWK’S NEST, CAT ISLAND. THURSDAY, MARCH 6, 2008
Jack the mackalack here. The Jackalope. You ever hear that song that Steve Earle did, a Supersuckers cover- “Creepy Jackalope Eye?” It’s pretty good. Anyway, we’re here on ol’ Cat Island. We had smooth sailin’s the other day when we came up here, crossed most of it before noon, having set out at like 8 or something. It was too early to understand the concept of time, but it was understood well enough to know it was pretty damn early. So, the massive waves we were afraid of did not materialize, maybe just a few swells in the beginning, so it was very pleasant. I guess the fourth time’s the charm, having been turned back at Cape Santa Maria the previous three times due to big waves, lightning storms, howling wind, yadda yadda yadda.
So, we got here, and came into the fancy pants resort to see what was about, and caught some of the primaries. They had an “honor bar,” which is fun if you’ve never been to one. It’s where you get your own beer, or whatever, and mark it down on as a hash mark on a sheet of paper while the staff stand around and watch t.v. like twenty feet away. Well, fun anyway except that the beer cooler is not grounded, and has a nice shock in store for you if you touch it. Just push the door with a napkin, and reach in and grab the beer without touching the sides. Kind of like “Operation,” the wacky doctor’s game. Except this is better, because you get to drink beer while you play. Well, I don’t know what your childhood was like. In my family, we didn’t drink beer at that age. I’ll try not to judge you though. And the primaries were on the giant 12 foot t.v. they had in the lobby, and these nice people came in with smoked kingfish and crackers in a huge bowl, that was awesome.
Anyway, they had that there “honor” bar, and it seemed like so much fun going back and getting those drinks, and making your own, and whatnot, that I spose I got a little carried away with myself, and got what you might call “a wee bit tipsy.” The last drink I made was a white Russian, and the German owner of the resort was insisting I put three hash marks on the paper while I grinned and told him “DON’T WORRY ABOUT IT MY FRIEND!” Over and over. Ah, I’m a humble man. Well, now I am, after that anyway. The people who brought the dip disappeared, I think because I ate like three quarters of this massive bowl of kingfish dip in about five minutes, and put a serious dent in their crackers on top of it. And then this guy Patrick walked us out to the dinghy to make sure I got in on the inside of it, and I’m even humbler for that. Oh, and Ruth informed me, while I’m on the subject, that I misjudged my entry into the dinghy, and went, ass over tit, into the drink. That explains why I woke up wearing different clothes. So, that’s one time each now, we’ve fallen off the boat and into the water. Well, we won’t count the times I did before we knew each other.
The next day, if you could believe it, I felt like hell. So I did nothing. No, wait. Scratch that. I cleaned the fridge. That was my day.
Today, though, we got up at the crack of ten with a jaunty spring in our step, and zipped out to the deep water to do some diving. Well, me anyway. Ruth drove. It was great though, because today, we did things a bit differently. She trolled around with me on the back of the dinghy, holding the spear and the dive flag in my scuba gear, and when I saw something cool, I would drop off and she would hang out while I dove about, a-bubblin’. I did shoot a parrotfish, (I think that’s what it was) and got it right through the spine so the struggle was over really fast. This thing was beautiful, we took a bunch of pictures and all that.
Immediately, of course, I went to the surface, and dispatched the fish to the boat, and we went to a new area. The smell of blood must have been on me though, or else we didn’t go far enough, because the next time I dropped off, this really big barracuda started following me, like four feet long. Ugly bastard. He was really close too, like ten feet or something, and really curious, so much so that I hollered for Ruth to pull around, and while she did, I pulled back the sling and got ready to take a crack at him. Not like I’m any match for a fish that goes 70 mph with razor sharp teeth, but holding a spear made me feel a bit better. Those things scare me. I won’t lie. I’m afraid of barracudas. It’s official.
We ate the fish for dinner. it for dinner. Or most of it anyway. I took the head and stuck a big hook in it, and threw it over the side to try to land a grouper or something, but the jerk on the line yanked the spool right out of my hand and I lost it all over the side. Luckily, it floated, so it was easy enough to find once I went in after it. If you don’t know, I’ll tell you something: I’m a silly, silly man.
Tomorrow the plan is to take this 80 lb. line and tie about ten hooks in a series on it, with all kinds of hulas, fish heads, ballyhoos, and maybe some bedknobs and possibly even some broomsticks, and slap that sucker on the downrigger and troll around at the “wall,” where the dropoff goes to 1000 feet. We’ll see what happens. We haven’t really tried too hard at this fishing business, but this seems like the right time to get motivated.
Oh yeah. We got our XM radio working again, since we got an antenna on Long Island. Woohoo!
On another note: it’s funny, there’s a whole bunch of things about my life that are more in focus now more than they were before. Most of them were already there, but this trip, and being so far away and so isolated has underscored them.
I’ve realized work is a different thing than I used to think it was. I used to think you get a job and work, all the time, because that’s just what you do, and that’s it. Until your 65, then you sit. Now, I think it’s something I’ll do enough so I can eat, and only as much as I need to, and enjoy it. And never any longer on some kind of “career path” type work. Nope, nothing I can’t walk away from if it doesn’t suit me. I want to enjoy all the work I do from now on, not endure it, as in the past, where I saw it as “trading hours of my life for dollars.” I’m done doing that. I’ll still work, of course. I just won’t be trying to take over the world like I was a few years ago. Now, I’m going to just do it on my terms, as much is needed, but not more. And more. And more. And more. Just what is needed, and makes sense. Not out of compulsion to fill every hour of the day with it, as before.
I’ve decided I never want to be so far from my family again, not for so long. This was wonderful, this trip. Of course, I’m glad we did it. But I don’t think I ever want to be so far from my parents, my siblings, my in-laws, my friends. And our dogs. I don’t ever want to spend another 6 months without looking at those smiling dog tongues, until the day they’re taken from me by time. And until then, I don’t want to waste the time I have, by not experiencing them every minute I can.
And that goes for the rest of you too.
I don’t ever want to stop coming here, to the Bahamas. I like it too much. It suits me. It’s like New Orleans. When I first got there, it was like being home. It’s the only way to describe it. It will always be a home to me, even though I may never live there again. As will Kalamazoo, as will Shady Rest, as will this boat. I think I’m going to add the Bahamas to the list of places that I call home, wherever this boat is anchored here. Another place that feels like home is at Burt’s house, in Michigan. And Tom and Becky’s house in Kalamazoo. And there are others. Places people have made me so welcome, they have made their home my home, and made me really believe that it was. And so, I guess, even though it’s something I’ve said, and known for a long time, when I tried to talk you into coming to visit us in New Orleans, or up North at Shady Rest, or now, as I’m asking you to come visit the boat if you ever are so inclined, it is because just like I feel like your home is my home, my home is also yours, and I would like you to visit. These places are too good to stay away from, and too good to keep to ourselves.
Ruth is good by the way. She’s healing nicely. I think in a week or maybe a bit more she will have new skin where she was burned, pretty much all over. She’s doing great. I know you guys worry, but try not to. She’s doing well, and right now, sleeping like a lil’ baybay.
Speaking of which: David said today that Michelle is showing now. Is that awesome or what? I said “are you going to stick with the name Suvay?” and he said “well, I haven’t been told otherwise.”
Attaboy!
HAWK’S NEST, CAT ISLAND. THURSDAY, MARCH 6, 2008
Jack the mackalack here. The Jackalope. You ever hear that song that Steve Earle did, a Supersuckers cover- “Creepy Jackalope Eye?” It’s pretty good. Anyway, we’re here on ol’ Cat Island. We had smooth sailin’s the other day when we came up here, crossed most of it before noon, having set out at like 8 or something. It was too early to understand the concept of time, but it was understood well enough to know it was pretty damn early. So, the massive waves we were afraid of did not materialize, maybe just a few swells in the beginning, so it was very pleasant. I guess the fourth time’s the charm, having been turned back at Cape Santa Maria the previous three times due to big waves, lightning storms, howling wind, yadda yadda yadda.
So, we got here, and came into the fancy pants resort to see what was about, and caught some of the primaries. They had an “honor bar,” which is fun if you’ve never been to one. It’s where you get your own beer, or whatever, and mark it down on as a hash mark on a sheet of paper while the staff stand around and watch t.v. like twenty feet away. Well, fun anyway except that the beer cooler is not grounded, and has a nice shock in store for you if you touch it. Just push the door with a napkin, and reach in and grab the beer without touching the sides. Kind of like “Operation,” the wacky doctor’s game. Except this is better, because you get to drink beer while you play. Well, I don’t know what your childhood was like. In my family, we didn’t drink beer at that age. I’ll try not to judge you though. And the primaries were on the giant 12 foot t.v. they had in the lobby, and these nice people came in with smoked kingfish and crackers in a huge bowl, that was awesome.
Anyway, they had that there “honor” bar, and it seemed like so much fun going back and getting those drinks, and making your own, and whatnot, that I spose I got a little carried away with myself, and got what you might call “a wee bit tipsy.” The last drink I made was a white Russian, and the German owner of the resort was insisting I put three hash marks on the paper while I grinned and told him “DON’T WORRY ABOUT IT MY FRIEND!” Over and over. Ah, I’m a humble man. Well, now I am, after that anyway. The people who brought the dip disappeared, I think because I ate like three quarters of this massive bowl of kingfish dip in about five minutes, and put a serious dent in their crackers on top of it. And then this guy Patrick walked us out to the dinghy to make sure I got in on the inside of it, and I’m even humbler for that. Oh, and Ruth informed me, while I’m on the subject, that I misjudged my entry into the dinghy, and went, ass over tit, into the drink. That explains why I woke up wearing different clothes. So, that’s one time each now, we’ve fallen off the boat and into the water. Well, we won’t count the times I did before we knew each other.
The next day, if you could believe it, I felt like hell. So I did nothing. No, wait. Scratch that. I cleaned the fridge. That was my day.
Today, though, we got up at the crack of ten with a jaunty spring in our step, and zipped out to the deep water to do some diving. Well, me anyway. Ruth drove. It was great though, because today, we did things a bit differently. She trolled around with me on the back of the dinghy, holding the spear and the dive flag in my scuba gear, and when I saw something cool, I would drop off and she would hang out while I dove about, a-bubblin’. I did shoot a parrotfish, (I think that’s what it was) and got it right through the spine so the struggle was over really fast. This thing was beautiful, we took a bunch of pictures and all that.
Immediately, of course, I went to the surface, and dispatched the fish to the boat, and we went to a new area. The smell of blood must have been on me though, or else we didn’t go far enough, because the next time I dropped off, this really big barracuda started following me, like four feet long. Ugly bastard. He was really close too, like ten feet or something, and really curious, so much so that I hollered for Ruth to pull around, and while she did, I pulled back the sling and got ready to take a crack at him. Not like I’m any match for a fish that goes 70 mph with razor sharp teeth, but holding a spear made me feel a bit better. Those things scare me. I won’t lie. I’m afraid of barracudas. It’s official.
We ate the fish for dinner. it for dinner. Or most of it anyway. I took the head and stuck a big hook in it, and threw it over the side to try to land a grouper or something, but the jerk on the line yanked the spool right out of my hand and I lost it all over the side. Luckily, it floated, so it was easy enough to find once I went in after it. If you don’t know, I’ll tell you something: I’m a silly, silly man.
Tomorrow the plan is to take this 80 lb. line and tie about ten hooks in a series on it, with all kinds of hulas, fish heads, ballyhoos, and maybe some bedknobs and possibly even some broomsticks, and slap that sucker on the downrigger and troll around at the “wall,” where the dropoff goes to 1000 feet. We’ll see what happens. We haven’t really tried too hard at this fishing business, but this seems like the right time to get motivated.
Oh yeah. We got our XM radio working again, since we got an antenna on Long Island. Woohoo!
On another note: it’s funny, there’s a whole bunch of things about my life that are more in focus now more than they were before. Most of them were already there, but this trip, and being so far away and so isolated has underscored them.
I’ve realized work is a different thing than I used to think it was. I used to think you get a job and work, all the time, because that’s just what you do, and that’s it. Until your 65, then you sit. Now, I think it’s something I’ll do enough so I can eat, and only as much as I need to, and enjoy it. And never any longer on some kind of “career path” type work. Nope, nothing I can’t walk away from if it doesn’t suit me. I want to enjoy all the work I do from now on, not endure it, as in the past, where I saw it as “trading hours of my life for dollars.” I’m done doing that. I’ll still work, of course. I just won’t be trying to take over the world like I was a few years ago. Now, I’m going to just do it on my terms, as much is needed, but not more. And more. And more. And more. Just what is needed, and makes sense. Not out of compulsion to fill every hour of the day with it, as before.
I’ve decided I never want to be so far from my family again, not for so long. This was wonderful, this trip. Of course, I’m glad we did it. But I don’t think I ever want to be so far from my parents, my siblings, my in-laws, my friends. And our dogs. I don’t ever want to spend another 6 months without looking at those smiling dog tongues, until the day they’re taken from me by time. And until then, I don’t want to waste the time I have, by not experiencing them every minute I can.
And that goes for the rest of you too.
I don’t ever want to stop coming here, to the Bahamas. I like it too much. It suits me. It’s like New Orleans. When I first got there, it was like being home. It’s the only way to describe it. It will always be a home to me, even though I may never live there again. As will Kalamazoo, as will Shady Rest, as will this boat. I think I’m going to add the Bahamas to the list of places that I call home, wherever this boat is anchored here. Another place that feels like home is at Burt’s house, in Michigan. And Tom and Becky’s house in Kalamazoo. And there are others. Places people have made me so welcome, they have made their home my home, and made me really believe that it was. And so, I guess, even though it’s something I’ve said, and known for a long time, when I tried to talk you into coming to visit us in New Orleans, or up North at Shady Rest, or now, as I’m asking you to come visit the boat if you ever are so inclined, it is because just like I feel like your home is my home, my home is also yours, and I would like you to visit. These places are too good to stay away from, and too good to keep to ourselves.
Ruth is good by the way. She’s healing nicely. I think in a week or maybe a bit more she will have new skin where she was burned, pretty much all over. She’s doing great. I know you guys worry, but try not to. She’s doing well, and right now, sleeping like a lil’ baybay.
Speaking of which: David said today that Michelle is showing now. Is that awesome or what? I said “are you going to stick with the name Suvay?” and he said “well, I haven’t been told otherwise.”
Attaboy!
Monday, March 3, 2008
Ameliorated pickles for Santa
They said this was the wreckage of a submarine, but we can't see it.
What sunsets look like off our friend Chris's boat "Koan."
The new mascot. David's ceramic devil served us well, but disappeared in the Ragged Islands in the weather.
Ruth's old man honking his horn
THE CULPRIT, and other photos
THIS IS THE PAN. THE HATED, HATED PAN. THIS IS THE PAN THAT BURNED MY WIFE. THIS IS THE PAN THAT MUST NOW DIE. DIE PAN, DIE! DIE, DIE, DIE! HATE! KILL! CRUSH! DESTROY!
DEATH TO PAN.
PAN DEAD NOW.
Sleep now. Before KILLING MORE PANS...
What really happened to the S.S. Minnow
The Minnow's big brother. These two were actually about 100 feet apart down in Long Island.
The hot laptop I slave over so that you can read this blog. (and express my burning contempt for pans, pots, cookware in general)
This is the view out of our backdoor at night. I have some nice sunset ones coming up of this too. That's a lighthouse ruins on the corner there, and there's the ruins of a restaurant further down the beach. We're in this awesome little cove, no other sailboat can fit in, and we had to come in at high tide to wait out this cold front. We've been here on Long Island for almost a month now, and about ready to leave, and we'll try again in the a.m. It will be our fourth attempt to get past the big waves up at the top of the island. Next is Cat Island, which is supposed to be awesome.
A HEARTY WELCOME
Ruth and I have been thinking. This Bahamas stuff is great and all, but what's missing? Something ain't right. Something... Something... Something...
You, dear reader. The answer is you.
We made this blog for our family and friends, so that they can not only know we didn't drown, and get swept off to a watery grave in Davy Jone's Locker, but so that you can enjoy what we're lucky enough to be seeing. But it's still not enough. This place is amazing.
The scenery.
The customs.
The food.
The peace.
The people.
It really is like a paradise. It just underscores how short life is, how valuable every moment is.
So, we kept thinking- maybe one of these ruins could be bought cheap, and we could fix it up, put a padlock on it, and give all of you guys the combination. That was one idea. We haven't totally given up on that yet, but we came up with something else. We're going to leave the boat here. Probably Georgetown, and leave it anchored, with three anchors out, battened down, locked up, floating. waiting for someone to come down who knows the combination.
We want to come back here sometime when we have a week off, or a long weekend, or however long, and we don't want to have to drive the boat down on a trailer, and all the rest. It just isn't practical. And for the amount this boat cost, it's worth the risk to leave it here where people of this community will keep an eye on it. And then the added benefit of that is, that you can come down and enjoy it too.
If you want to get away for a week, or however long, and just have a place to hang your hat while you stay and soak it up, we'll give you the combination. If you want to come down and hoist the sails and sail around, we'll leave detailed instructions on how to do that too. (remember, we just figured it out as we went along. You can too.)
If you want to see the Exumas, Thunderball Cove, dive the reefs or plane wrecks, or go conching, deep sea fishing, or whatever, and you don't think you'd feel comfortable tearing out of here on your own, then come down when we're here. There's beaches you can camp on, or stay on the boat. We'll be down periodically.
The only thing that would make our return better is if we brought you with us. You know who you are. Yes, you.
The only thing that would make us feel more comfortable about leaving our boat here for a year at a time, or more, without seeing it is if you checked on it for us, drank a beer on it, and watched a couple sunsets on it to make sure they're still here. Sure, maybe noone will take us up on it. And we'll always have to wonder- did they just not believe we were serious? And the boat will just sit there. Boy, that would be a real tragedy. So think if it's something that might be fun for you.
Please let us know. This is the most sincere of sincere invitations. Please, some of you, all of you, take us up on it. It's our way of thanking you for all you've done to help us get here in the first place, and for being special to us. So let us do that and express our gratitude.
We're waiting to see who will be the first one to trust that we're not joking.
Your friends,
Jack and Ruth
You, dear reader. The answer is you.
We made this blog for our family and friends, so that they can not only know we didn't drown, and get swept off to a watery grave in Davy Jone's Locker, but so that you can enjoy what we're lucky enough to be seeing. But it's still not enough. This place is amazing.
The scenery.
The customs.
The food.
The peace.
The people.
It really is like a paradise. It just underscores how short life is, how valuable every moment is.
So, we kept thinking- maybe one of these ruins could be bought cheap, and we could fix it up, put a padlock on it, and give all of you guys the combination. That was one idea. We haven't totally given up on that yet, but we came up with something else. We're going to leave the boat here. Probably Georgetown, and leave it anchored, with three anchors out, battened down, locked up, floating. waiting for someone to come down who knows the combination.
We want to come back here sometime when we have a week off, or a long weekend, or however long, and we don't want to have to drive the boat down on a trailer, and all the rest. It just isn't practical. And for the amount this boat cost, it's worth the risk to leave it here where people of this community will keep an eye on it. And then the added benefit of that is, that you can come down and enjoy it too.
If you want to get away for a week, or however long, and just have a place to hang your hat while you stay and soak it up, we'll give you the combination. If you want to come down and hoist the sails and sail around, we'll leave detailed instructions on how to do that too. (remember, we just figured it out as we went along. You can too.)
If you want to see the Exumas, Thunderball Cove, dive the reefs or plane wrecks, or go conching, deep sea fishing, or whatever, and you don't think you'd feel comfortable tearing out of here on your own, then come down when we're here. There's beaches you can camp on, or stay on the boat. We'll be down periodically.
The only thing that would make our return better is if we brought you with us. You know who you are. Yes, you.
The only thing that would make us feel more comfortable about leaving our boat here for a year at a time, or more, without seeing it is if you checked on it for us, drank a beer on it, and watched a couple sunsets on it to make sure they're still here. Sure, maybe noone will take us up on it. And we'll always have to wonder- did they just not believe we were serious? And the boat will just sit there. Boy, that would be a real tragedy. So think if it's something that might be fun for you.
Please let us know. This is the most sincere of sincere invitations. Please, some of you, all of you, take us up on it. It's our way of thanking you for all you've done to help us get here in the first place, and for being special to us. So let us do that and express our gratitude.
We're waiting to see who will be the first one to trust that we're not joking.
Your friends,
Jack and Ruth
Ruth's post, March 3rd
Hey hey,
Today we're sitting in the tv/library room of the Cape Santa Maria resort on Long Island. We're gonna spend some time online and spend some time making music using our computers. I'm drinking a diet coke, the sun is shining bright, the sky super blue with beautiful clouds, but it is still pretty windy, 20-30 knots. We are forced to sit anchored until the wind dies, and only then can we make our move north to our next stop: Cat Island. Our original plan was to sail 30 miles east to Rum Cay, hit up Conception Island which is 17 miles northwest of Rum, and then continue on to Cat, but we are afraid we will get stuck in those places due to the weather. We've been in Long Island for about a month due to weather and my burn situation. We're ansy to get out, but since we want to see all we can while we're down here we've decided going to Cat right away is best. It is a long island and will provide much shelter and protection from wind and rough seas when moving north. From Cat we are going to keep going north/northwest to The Eleuthras, a chain of beautiful islands similar to The Exumas, but shorter in length.
My birthday was very VERY nice! Even though it landed in the middle of a cold front (dark skies, rain, heavy wind) the sun came out exactly on my birthday and it remained sunny for the entire day! Even the day after was cloudy and rainy. I felt special. Jack and I borrowed kayaks from the nearby resort and took them across the bay where we are anchored to check out these big caves on the opposite side. We spent some time at the resort using the internet and calling family. It MADE my birthday to hear my dad play the piano while he, my brother, and mom sang "Happy Birthday" and then "Sto Lat" !!!! (The polish birthday song "may you live 100 years").
Everyone at the resort was very nice and concerned about what had happened to me. We met so many wonderful, outgoing people that day! That night we had dinner there and I ordered Grouper and had ice cream for dessert! Then just as we got up to leave, the staff brought me a BIG piece of chocolate cake and everyone in the room started singing "Happy Birthday!" It turns out, John and Laura-Lee from Alabama (the sweet couple who let us stay with them at their villa the first night when the weather was really bad) bought it for me! They are SOOO NICE!! I had a wonderful time with Jack. We had so many great conversations throughout the day and the night. When we got back to the boat we ate the cake and watched a documentary called "Rush to War."
The best part of my birthday was the cake Jack baked for me! He made it from scratch using ingredients around the boat, and baked it in a pot placed IN A POT on our camping burner! He is so innovative! He put cocoa in the batter and melted sugar and water for the frosting, then on top sprinkled Craisons and small pieces of Starburst that he cut up! We ate a piece everyday for three days straight! MMMM! He also is in the process of writing a song for me using GarageBand, and it has lyrics too! I can't wait to hear it!
We are so EAGER to keep moving! Until that glorious day comes, we'll be reading A LOT, writing music, watching movies, fixing up this n' that on the boat, using the internets, and chillin on the beach. I WOULD write swimming/snorkeling but i can't do that until my back heals up a bit more! Right now I am in a VERY VERY ITCHY phase!!! (which is, of course, a great thing because it means my back is scabbing up)....I am still experiencing some pain but I am much MUCH more bothered by the constant aggravation of THE ITCH AAAALLL OVER. I totally empathize with Jack about his skin problems...I am so lucky that I will recover from this! I can't imagine what i would do with myself if I had to feel this way everyday (like him) with no end in sight! He is on predisone and antihistamines and they barely do a thing for him! Allergists and dermatologists can't figure out what the problem is. One allergist recently theorized that Jack is allergic to himself! The doctor tested this theory by injecting jack with his own blood, and where the injection took place, his skin had a reaction.
We have decided we will leave the boat in the Bahamas and fly back to the states. That way, we can fly down anytime we'd like to vacation on the boat! It will be easier to bring friends and family along with us too! Also, it cuts out a lot of the time and money we would spend getting back to the states or back to the Bahamas. Yay Yay!
Today we're sitting in the tv/library room of the Cape Santa Maria resort on Long Island. We're gonna spend some time online and spend some time making music using our computers. I'm drinking a diet coke, the sun is shining bright, the sky super blue with beautiful clouds, but it is still pretty windy, 20-30 knots. We are forced to sit anchored until the wind dies, and only then can we make our move north to our next stop: Cat Island. Our original plan was to sail 30 miles east to Rum Cay, hit up Conception Island which is 17 miles northwest of Rum, and then continue on to Cat, but we are afraid we will get stuck in those places due to the weather. We've been in Long Island for about a month due to weather and my burn situation. We're ansy to get out, but since we want to see all we can while we're down here we've decided going to Cat right away is best. It is a long island and will provide much shelter and protection from wind and rough seas when moving north. From Cat we are going to keep going north/northwest to The Eleuthras, a chain of beautiful islands similar to The Exumas, but shorter in length.
My birthday was very VERY nice! Even though it landed in the middle of a cold front (dark skies, rain, heavy wind) the sun came out exactly on my birthday and it remained sunny for the entire day! Even the day after was cloudy and rainy. I felt special. Jack and I borrowed kayaks from the nearby resort and took them across the bay where we are anchored to check out these big caves on the opposite side. We spent some time at the resort using the internet and calling family. It MADE my birthday to hear my dad play the piano while he, my brother, and mom sang "Happy Birthday" and then "Sto Lat" !!!! (The polish birthday song "may you live 100 years").
Everyone at the resort was very nice and concerned about what had happened to me. We met so many wonderful, outgoing people that day! That night we had dinner there and I ordered Grouper and had ice cream for dessert! Then just as we got up to leave, the staff brought me a BIG piece of chocolate cake and everyone in the room started singing "Happy Birthday!" It turns out, John and Laura-Lee from Alabama (the sweet couple who let us stay with them at their villa the first night when the weather was really bad) bought it for me! They are SOOO NICE!! I had a wonderful time with Jack. We had so many great conversations throughout the day and the night. When we got back to the boat we ate the cake and watched a documentary called "Rush to War."
The best part of my birthday was the cake Jack baked for me! He made it from scratch using ingredients around the boat, and baked it in a pot placed IN A POT on our camping burner! He is so innovative! He put cocoa in the batter and melted sugar and water for the frosting, then on top sprinkled Craisons and small pieces of Starburst that he cut up! We ate a piece everyday for three days straight! MMMM! He also is in the process of writing a song for me using GarageBand, and it has lyrics too! I can't wait to hear it!
We are so EAGER to keep moving! Until that glorious day comes, we'll be reading A LOT, writing music, watching movies, fixing up this n' that on the boat, using the internets, and chillin on the beach. I WOULD write swimming/snorkeling but i can't do that until my back heals up a bit more! Right now I am in a VERY VERY ITCHY phase!!! (which is, of course, a great thing because it means my back is scabbing up)....I am still experiencing some pain but I am much MUCH more bothered by the constant aggravation of THE ITCH AAAALLL OVER. I totally empathize with Jack about his skin problems...I am so lucky that I will recover from this! I can't imagine what i would do with myself if I had to feel this way everyday (like him) with no end in sight! He is on predisone and antihistamines and they barely do a thing for him! Allergists and dermatologists can't figure out what the problem is. One allergist recently theorized that Jack is allergic to himself! The doctor tested this theory by injecting jack with his own blood, and where the injection took place, his skin had a reaction.
We have decided we will leave the boat in the Bahamas and fly back to the states. That way, we can fly down anytime we'd like to vacation on the boat! It will be easier to bring friends and family along with us too! Also, it cuts out a lot of the time and money we would spend getting back to the states or back to the Bahamas. Yay Yay!
Saturday, March 1, 2008
Bahamian stuff
This thing they have here called the "eclipse." It's some kind of Bahamian mumbo jumbo.
Our buddy Hugh and the Ruther.
Lobster madness runnin' wild. Also has to do with the "eclipse."
Another Bahamian phenomenon: naked mermaids that clean your boat for you
What we do while we eat: play dominoes. It's actually a really good game.
Assorted Imagery for ya
Crazy Palm tree here. It's actually living like that.
Flowers by Stella Maris.
Fresh Meat for Christmas!
Gin and coconut milk, complimentary in the hotel room the Germans gave us for free.
Haitan boat made from a single dugout tree trunk. Part of the mystery is that there's no trees left on Haiti. And to further the mystery, what happened to the boaters once they paddled it here from Haiti?
more picalix
Here's some more stuff to check out. Ruth made this awesome bean dish right on the boat. It tasted even better than it looked.
Pretty big barracuda. This is about 4 feet. Ruth spotted one 6 feet or more when we were out snorkeling one day. They go up to 70 mph., and do more damage than they eat. They just fly up and bite something in half. Crazy fish. Creepy too. Usually, they just hover and stare at you, moving incredibly slowly. That is unless you wear something shiny.
Black ducks with white bills Ruth found. She has an obsession with birds now. She's like Tony Soprano with the ducks over here.
Corkscrew Croton that we tried to grow on the boat.
Plain ol' Croton.
What they look like now
Here's Ruth all gauzed up, smiling, and scabby. We're still changing the dressing a lot, applying creams, and the whatnot, but she's doing really a ton better. We have a ton more photos to post, but I thought I'd take this, the first opportunity to get these photos up so you all know how bad it was, but that she's not going to die either. Thanks for being patient, I know it's stressful not knowing exactly how bad it was for so long, and now you know.
We're off to her birthday dinner now.
Oh, and here's one of the cake I made her- I made it on the grill. And she ATE it. Wow, what a good sport.
Ruth's burns, when they happened
This is what she's been dealing with. Ouch. She's doing a ton better though...
THIRSTY THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 28, 2008
Mr. J speaking, as Bomber calls me. Well, It was Mary Lee’s birthday YESTERDAY. I was thinking it was today, but I got a call out to the old girl anyway, so that was cool. Laura says she will pass on the birthday greetings to my favorite niece. So what’s up, peeps? What’s the latest?
Well, since I can’t know what you’re doing, exactly, I will tell you what’s up with us. Ruth and I went to Nassau, as I believe you know. She’s healing very well. There’s actually skin starting to creep back over some of the burns. She’s not going to scar, I don’t think, and we can be fairly certain that there’s no infection, and not going to be any. She’s on the miracle drug Silver Sulfadine, plus oral antibiotics too. Quite a different scene than the other day stepping on the boat, smelling burned skin and hair. I guess the explosion when the oil hit the water came all the way into the cockpit, so over the rail of the boat, which is a few feet off of the water, and into it across one seat, across the aisle in the center, and burned the hair off of Ruth’s arm and on her head. Wow, she is so lucky, and for that matter, we’re lucky the boat didn’t catch fire and then take the marina with it. That fire burning in the pot when we got back was about 4 inches above the hold filled with 30 gallons of gasoline. I guess we can be glad heat rises. Thanks, physics!
Oh, and I guess I told you all about the doc saying I have autoimmune urticaria, which is not AIDS, so don’t ask. It’s me allergic to my own skin cells, which I find rather unfortunate, since I’m riddled with the bastards. One skin cell even has these TGE receptors, and they fight one another even within the cell. Great. Yeah, he injected me with my own blood and I got an allergic reaction to it. But not to saline. Yippee.
We forgot the camera, and the whole time were afraid that security at the hospital might have swiped it. They didn’t, of course, but we still worry, even moreso since it’s Burt’s, and it was nice enough of him to let us use it after our camera fell into the salt water. We missed a few good signs, including one that said “redefining customer satisfaction,” and a door in the hospital marked “escort service.”
Yeah, I wrote all that the other night in the airport, but I didn’t remember any of it, I was so damned tired. The idea was that it wouldn’t be too good for both of us to sack out on the ground, in case someone came along, or whatever (my thinking anyway) plus I blogged, watched some Ali G, and perfected my song, so it is now the world’s best musical piece, and none need try further, because I have stood at the peak of achievement, the summit has been scaled, the pinnacle achieved, zenith reached, apex superseded, the apogee arrived at. Hear that, Third Eye Blind, Britney Spears, and Red Hot Chili Peppers? No need to play further. Just go on home. No reason to carry on, with your hooting and banging, pining and whining. It’s been done, and the corn pone bread’s been done been up and buttered.
I’m just kidding. It’s okay. I’d publish it online somewhere, but it’s fifty megabytes, so I’m not sure how, till I burn it for ya. It’s no “Linet,” by Teenage Larvae, “Nice,” by Ruth, “Tried,” by Thomas J. Deater (the J. stands for quality), but it’s not exactly “Oops, I did it again,” or Metallica’s “Load” either. Like I said, it’s okay. It made Ruth cry twice. That should be a good sign, for an instrumental. Of course, she probably cried when she heard “Load.”
So anyway. Pulled and all nighter, and then came back to Stella Maris and slept. The water looked like glass flying over it, and the previous couple days had been breezeless. Perfect day to make our crossing to Rum Cay, so I thought. Ruth has a birthday in a couple (March 1) and I thought maybe it would be nice to have a little celebration in a new, festive place. The weather was good, with the wind picking up from the West as we readied to split, I dove around under where the boat had been when we had the fire till I found the pot I tossed over (it was part of a set), we paid the tab to the Germans and asked everyone about the weather.
They all said a front was coming, either Thursday or Friday, and would be strong. Well, we had to go about 12 miles north, around the end of Long Island, and the coral reefs, and then 24 miles almost due east till we got to the harbor on the south side of Rum. That would be protected from the North winds, which is invariably what the fronts are all about. In the meantime, the west winds would be excellent to speed us along to the East. Also, we would be traveling the last 24 after dark, but I thought no big deal, we’ll use the moon and stars to navigate, along with the GPS as we’ve done in the past.
We set out, and pass the top of Long Island, which is Cape Santa Maria (where one of my least favorite famous people, Columbus, was said to have first landed). And it’s now dark. And it gets very cloudy. Now we can’t see diddly, and the night is as dark as the inside of an Angus steer’s tucchus. Except for guess what? Lightning. Heat lightning at first, we thought, way off, but then getting closer. And more frequent. And then constant, more or less, so we could see real well then, and as it speeds for us, the winds and waves pick up, and the lightning is not just confined to one area on the horizon, but about 90 degrees of it, then more, and more, and the wind starts really moving. Certainly alarmed by all of this, and not super cool with the idea of sailing 10 miles from the nearest land in a lightning storm on a big, floating glorified lightning rod, we turn around. We have to go out to sea a few miles toward the storm to go around the coral, and finally head into Cape Santa Maria, which shows a channel on the chart and the GPS in between rocks marked “strong current,” but when we get there, is really difficult to see.
Luckily, bursts of lighntning light up the stark faces of the white rocks on either side of the channel beautifully every few seconds, and you can really get a feel for how close they really are: close. As we go in, we ground out on coral and get stuck dead set in the center of the channel, even though it’s about 15 feet deep, strong wind pushing us further in. We use our buddy Lightning to peer in, only to see there’s no channel at all, just dead land, and treacherous rocks and coral all round.
We pull out of there, and follow the coast south, headed for where we went last time we tried this same exit and got driven back by weather, the Santa Maria Resort. We double check waypoints by flashlight, since we’re steering blind, just using the GPS, and steering the boat toward the little flags that we put on the screen as waypoints we want to get to. So, if you enter the coordinates wrong from the chart, and end up on the rocks with five foot breaking waves tossing the boat on it, it’s bad for obvious reasons. But it made us feel safer to know we were literally a couple miles from Shark Reef, in case something did happen, and we ended up in the water, scraped and bleeding from the coral, it would be at least a few minutes before the sharks could find us.
Anyway, it’s really no big deal, but this is the kind of healthy fears we have that turn us around instead of going further out. That we’re way too dependent on the GPS when it clouds over (what if it got dropped overboard?) or that if we got hit by lightning, we’d be toast, in more ways than one. So, it can be scary sometimes being out, even when most of it might really be in your head. I mean, Columbus and his people sailed in here knowing nothing of what reefs were where, and of course, they had a big boat, but nothing but sail power, no charts, nada.
Or the Haitian boats you see around here. Hand carved wooden things made from tree trunks, hollowed out, no sail, just people paddling, crossing hundreds and hundreds of miles of open ocean, with no navigation systems, heading for tiny islands, that are invisible except within about 8 miles or so. Some as little as maybe four miles. Now that would be scary. Our situation is just scary to us because we don’t have every single luxury at any time. Kind of like when Woody Allen was talking to Annie Hall and he said something like “I would hate to see you tortured by the KGB. If they took away your charge card, you’d tell them everything.” Basically, we’re just incredibly spoiled.
In any event, we head south, and get to the resort, throw anchor, and pack a bag to change Ruth’s bandages, a pint of whisky to pass the time, and head in on the dinghy. We get in after the kitchen is closed, so there goes dinner, we think. We aren’t in a minute too early though, when the winds pick up, like mad.
They’re going 35 mph if they’re going one, and stuff is blowing off the bar INSIDE the restaurant. 18 mph give or take, is the speed when the wind whistles in the telephone wires, I think I mentioned, and you have to remember that when you double the speed of the wind, the force increases 1000%. So, we were REALLY glad we weren’t out in it in the dark, on the reefs, again, even if Shark Reef was not the one we were on.
We buy cokes for the whisky, and after a little sweet talk, the bartender agrees to bring us conch chowder and bread, and then, like a couple angels, a couple that we met down at Stella Maris tell us that they have two extra twin beds in their place we can stay in, since they and they’re daughter can just stay in one room, which has two doubles. You’ll never guess what they’re names are: John, Laura Lee, and they’re daughter is Mary. Interesting coincidence. We get them a brandy, and in a bit, head to bed. We’re really glad they offered though, because for a while, it’s pretty clear that there’s no way we could row a lightweight dingy like ours in 35 mph winds. We’d just be blown out to wherever, not to mention the waves that were coming in then.
So today, we set out again. Try number three. The water was really calm, but the north winds had been blowing all night. We sailed up to the Cape again to have a look. They were 5-6 feet now, and so we turned around, daylight or no daylight. We’ll just hang here for a bit, and celebrate Ruth’s birthday. Saturday and Sunday are supposed to be calm, so we’ll leave for Rum then. We tucked into a tiny harbor we didn’t think we could get in last time we were here, where we go through two feet of water or maybe less to get in. Inside there’s a little channel, and the ruins of a lighthouse about forty feet from our boat on the shore. Really picturesque, and a great place to hole up for a few days.
I made Ruth a birthday cake tonight while she was out, and the domino we found someways back on the beach got put on the top, it had two on one side and three on the other, so it worked out, since she’s turning 23 and whatnot. I wasn’t sure how it would turn out, since I didn’t have any cake mix, a recipe, a stove, or any eggs, butter, or whatever. I did have margarine, flour and sugar and some cocoa. I had heard the recipe for pound cake (one pound each of flour sugar and butter), so I made cup cake, I guess, with a cup of each. I thought of adding real cups, but after considerable deliberation, decided against it. And I threw craisins on the top, cut up some starbursts and made frosting from sugar and water with a bit of flour to whiten it up, since it was going on a chocolate cake. I made it on the grill, and put a pot in another pot that had a lid on it, so it kind of acted like a small oven, and then just played with the gas, turning it on and off to keep it cooking evenly.
It’s actually not that horrible, basically just a lot of buttery sugar, but she seemed to like it. Wait, I mean, it was the best cake ever. So don’t ever bother making any cakes again, Third Eye Blind, Britney Spears, and Red Hot Chili Peppers.
Well, since I can’t know what you’re doing, exactly, I will tell you what’s up with us. Ruth and I went to Nassau, as I believe you know. She’s healing very well. There’s actually skin starting to creep back over some of the burns. She’s not going to scar, I don’t think, and we can be fairly certain that there’s no infection, and not going to be any. She’s on the miracle drug Silver Sulfadine, plus oral antibiotics too. Quite a different scene than the other day stepping on the boat, smelling burned skin and hair. I guess the explosion when the oil hit the water came all the way into the cockpit, so over the rail of the boat, which is a few feet off of the water, and into it across one seat, across the aisle in the center, and burned the hair off of Ruth’s arm and on her head. Wow, she is so lucky, and for that matter, we’re lucky the boat didn’t catch fire and then take the marina with it. That fire burning in the pot when we got back was about 4 inches above the hold filled with 30 gallons of gasoline. I guess we can be glad heat rises. Thanks, physics!
Oh, and I guess I told you all about the doc saying I have autoimmune urticaria, which is not AIDS, so don’t ask. It’s me allergic to my own skin cells, which I find rather unfortunate, since I’m riddled with the bastards. One skin cell even has these TGE receptors, and they fight one another even within the cell. Great. Yeah, he injected me with my own blood and I got an allergic reaction to it. But not to saline. Yippee.
We forgot the camera, and the whole time were afraid that security at the hospital might have swiped it. They didn’t, of course, but we still worry, even moreso since it’s Burt’s, and it was nice enough of him to let us use it after our camera fell into the salt water. We missed a few good signs, including one that said “redefining customer satisfaction,” and a door in the hospital marked “escort service.”
Yeah, I wrote all that the other night in the airport, but I didn’t remember any of it, I was so damned tired. The idea was that it wouldn’t be too good for both of us to sack out on the ground, in case someone came along, or whatever (my thinking anyway) plus I blogged, watched some Ali G, and perfected my song, so it is now the world’s best musical piece, and none need try further, because I have stood at the peak of achievement, the summit has been scaled, the pinnacle achieved, zenith reached, apex superseded, the apogee arrived at. Hear that, Third Eye Blind, Britney Spears, and Red Hot Chili Peppers? No need to play further. Just go on home. No reason to carry on, with your hooting and banging, pining and whining. It’s been done, and the corn pone bread’s been done been up and buttered.
I’m just kidding. It’s okay. I’d publish it online somewhere, but it’s fifty megabytes, so I’m not sure how, till I burn it for ya. It’s no “Linet,” by Teenage Larvae, “Nice,” by Ruth, “Tried,” by Thomas J. Deater (the J. stands for quality), but it’s not exactly “Oops, I did it again,” or Metallica’s “Load” either. Like I said, it’s okay. It made Ruth cry twice. That should be a good sign, for an instrumental. Of course, she probably cried when she heard “Load.”
So anyway. Pulled and all nighter, and then came back to Stella Maris and slept. The water looked like glass flying over it, and the previous couple days had been breezeless. Perfect day to make our crossing to Rum Cay, so I thought. Ruth has a birthday in a couple (March 1) and I thought maybe it would be nice to have a little celebration in a new, festive place. The weather was good, with the wind picking up from the West as we readied to split, I dove around under where the boat had been when we had the fire till I found the pot I tossed over (it was part of a set), we paid the tab to the Germans and asked everyone about the weather.
They all said a front was coming, either Thursday or Friday, and would be strong. Well, we had to go about 12 miles north, around the end of Long Island, and the coral reefs, and then 24 miles almost due east till we got to the harbor on the south side of Rum. That would be protected from the North winds, which is invariably what the fronts are all about. In the meantime, the west winds would be excellent to speed us along to the East. Also, we would be traveling the last 24 after dark, but I thought no big deal, we’ll use the moon and stars to navigate, along with the GPS as we’ve done in the past.
We set out, and pass the top of Long Island, which is Cape Santa Maria (where one of my least favorite famous people, Columbus, was said to have first landed). And it’s now dark. And it gets very cloudy. Now we can’t see diddly, and the night is as dark as the inside of an Angus steer’s tucchus. Except for guess what? Lightning. Heat lightning at first, we thought, way off, but then getting closer. And more frequent. And then constant, more or less, so we could see real well then, and as it speeds for us, the winds and waves pick up, and the lightning is not just confined to one area on the horizon, but about 90 degrees of it, then more, and more, and the wind starts really moving. Certainly alarmed by all of this, and not super cool with the idea of sailing 10 miles from the nearest land in a lightning storm on a big, floating glorified lightning rod, we turn around. We have to go out to sea a few miles toward the storm to go around the coral, and finally head into Cape Santa Maria, which shows a channel on the chart and the GPS in between rocks marked “strong current,” but when we get there, is really difficult to see.
Luckily, bursts of lighntning light up the stark faces of the white rocks on either side of the channel beautifully every few seconds, and you can really get a feel for how close they really are: close. As we go in, we ground out on coral and get stuck dead set in the center of the channel, even though it’s about 15 feet deep, strong wind pushing us further in. We use our buddy Lightning to peer in, only to see there’s no channel at all, just dead land, and treacherous rocks and coral all round.
We pull out of there, and follow the coast south, headed for where we went last time we tried this same exit and got driven back by weather, the Santa Maria Resort. We double check waypoints by flashlight, since we’re steering blind, just using the GPS, and steering the boat toward the little flags that we put on the screen as waypoints we want to get to. So, if you enter the coordinates wrong from the chart, and end up on the rocks with five foot breaking waves tossing the boat on it, it’s bad for obvious reasons. But it made us feel safer to know we were literally a couple miles from Shark Reef, in case something did happen, and we ended up in the water, scraped and bleeding from the coral, it would be at least a few minutes before the sharks could find us.
Anyway, it’s really no big deal, but this is the kind of healthy fears we have that turn us around instead of going further out. That we’re way too dependent on the GPS when it clouds over (what if it got dropped overboard?) or that if we got hit by lightning, we’d be toast, in more ways than one. So, it can be scary sometimes being out, even when most of it might really be in your head. I mean, Columbus and his people sailed in here knowing nothing of what reefs were where, and of course, they had a big boat, but nothing but sail power, no charts, nada.
Or the Haitian boats you see around here. Hand carved wooden things made from tree trunks, hollowed out, no sail, just people paddling, crossing hundreds and hundreds of miles of open ocean, with no navigation systems, heading for tiny islands, that are invisible except within about 8 miles or so. Some as little as maybe four miles. Now that would be scary. Our situation is just scary to us because we don’t have every single luxury at any time. Kind of like when Woody Allen was talking to Annie Hall and he said something like “I would hate to see you tortured by the KGB. If they took away your charge card, you’d tell them everything.” Basically, we’re just incredibly spoiled.
In any event, we head south, and get to the resort, throw anchor, and pack a bag to change Ruth’s bandages, a pint of whisky to pass the time, and head in on the dinghy. We get in after the kitchen is closed, so there goes dinner, we think. We aren’t in a minute too early though, when the winds pick up, like mad.
They’re going 35 mph if they’re going one, and stuff is blowing off the bar INSIDE the restaurant. 18 mph give or take, is the speed when the wind whistles in the telephone wires, I think I mentioned, and you have to remember that when you double the speed of the wind, the force increases 1000%. So, we were REALLY glad we weren’t out in it in the dark, on the reefs, again, even if Shark Reef was not the one we were on.
We buy cokes for the whisky, and after a little sweet talk, the bartender agrees to bring us conch chowder and bread, and then, like a couple angels, a couple that we met down at Stella Maris tell us that they have two extra twin beds in their place we can stay in, since they and they’re daughter can just stay in one room, which has two doubles. You’ll never guess what they’re names are: John, Laura Lee, and they’re daughter is Mary. Interesting coincidence. We get them a brandy, and in a bit, head to bed. We’re really glad they offered though, because for a while, it’s pretty clear that there’s no way we could row a lightweight dingy like ours in 35 mph winds. We’d just be blown out to wherever, not to mention the waves that were coming in then.
So today, we set out again. Try number three. The water was really calm, but the north winds had been blowing all night. We sailed up to the Cape again to have a look. They were 5-6 feet now, and so we turned around, daylight or no daylight. We’ll just hang here for a bit, and celebrate Ruth’s birthday. Saturday and Sunday are supposed to be calm, so we’ll leave for Rum then. We tucked into a tiny harbor we didn’t think we could get in last time we were here, where we go through two feet of water or maybe less to get in. Inside there’s a little channel, and the ruins of a lighthouse about forty feet from our boat on the shore. Really picturesque, and a great place to hole up for a few days.
I made Ruth a birthday cake tonight while she was out, and the domino we found someways back on the beach got put on the top, it had two on one side and three on the other, so it worked out, since she’s turning 23 and whatnot. I wasn’t sure how it would turn out, since I didn’t have any cake mix, a recipe, a stove, or any eggs, butter, or whatever. I did have margarine, flour and sugar and some cocoa. I had heard the recipe for pound cake (one pound each of flour sugar and butter), so I made cup cake, I guess, with a cup of each. I thought of adding real cups, but after considerable deliberation, decided against it. And I threw craisins on the top, cut up some starbursts and made frosting from sugar and water with a bit of flour to whiten it up, since it was going on a chocolate cake. I made it on the grill, and put a pot in another pot that had a lid on it, so it kind of acted like a small oven, and then just played with the gas, turning it on and off to keep it cooking evenly.
It’s actually not that horrible, basically just a lot of buttery sugar, but she seemed to like it. Wait, I mean, it was the best cake ever. So don’t ever bother making any cakes again, Third Eye Blind, Britney Spears, and Red Hot Chili Peppers.
WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 27, 2008 2:38 a.m.
Welp, tomorrow is Mary Lee’s Birthday. The day after that is Ruth’s. Three days after that is David’s. Wish them happy birthdays, except David, who doesn’t need it, because he’s the luckiest guy in the world. Bless his sweet heart.
And Mary Lee’s.
And Ruth Anne’s.
Ruth and I are at the airport, waiting to split. We have to be here at 6 a.m. to leave at 7 (what’s up? Have these people been hanging out in the colonies? What happened to the 15 minute rule? Ah, Nassau, and its big city ways…) We’ve already had the truck drive by, shine the light in our faces, and demand what we’re doing here, which, we reply is the actual situation, they just drive away without another word. (What? Have these people been hanging out in the States…?) So, they locked up a bit ago, so we sit outside, but luckily on my walkabout I found the lounge unlocked, full of snack machines, dominoes, and even checkers… There were also new cardboard boxes nearby ready for the rubbish heap that I snatched, one which held bags of Doritos, and subsequently became my current footrest, and the other I tore apart and laid on the ground and took a nap on, while a certain person with an “R” in her name scoffed at it. She is now sleeping on it peacefully, I may add…
Luckily, there is some wind tonight, so the bugs are not too bad. I have some welts on my leg for over a week- two anyway, that just grow and grow, and more and more sore. Okay, not grow and grow. Just grow, singular. One grow, then itch. Then slightly more they’re a growin’.
Saw the doc today, who told me I have no allergies, and then told me I may be allergic to myself, a la the Cows song of the same name. Good song, by the way, lookit up. He told me the test is $490, and then can do nothing about it, so I hem, haw, swear, kvetch, and etc., and then he says he has another way. He draws about a strawful of blood, and tells me to come back in 90. I do, and he injects it into my arm. And another of saline or something as a control. Guess what? My skin gets all puffy. From my own blood only. Great. I thought of that as a joke, over the summer.
“I had my fun… I’m allergic, to myself. MYself!” As it goes. Good tune.
Anyhoo, he prescribes me 200 prednisone (how generous!), and tells me that I’ll most likely have this to the grave (wow, how timeless!), and gives me two refills. Ruth and I get our scripts filled, and they screw up and give her 7 renews (she should have had 3) and me four, but who’s counting. Maybe it’s just the Bahamian way.
So, now we’re in the airport, after drinking a beer on the beach, having dinner in a restaurant, and saving $130 on a hotel for 6 hours. Now I’m reading 1984 again, and I’ll tell you what, even 34 pages into it, it’s just about spot on. Especially for 1945 when it was written. I mean, can you imagine (here’s the political part of my thinking, time to hang up the phone) that even then, he was saying that people would do pretty much ANYTHING and believe ANYTHING if they were kept in the fear and in the dark? Just substitute a giant picture of Britney Spears for Big Brother, and it’s about right to the detail. I remember in 1984, after having read it, people came out and denounced it as being ridiculous because that year had in fact, not actually produced telescreens in everyone’s living rooms.
Or had they? Maybe the television is sufficient and the telescreen (with camera, but don’t worry, you can buy those soon!) is unnecessary when people are so dutifully wrapped up in the latest “Oops, I did it again”-ness of our idiotic media. So much so that even here, you can tell who listens to Bahamian or British news (they sound coherent/literate) and who listens to Fox or the equivalent (they are hysterical, and speak in circles).
Everyone said “see, 1984 DIDN’T happen,” etc. Yet, I’m posting this on the internet. Any idea how many pieces of software are watching this blog, and everything else online now? We had a cat we knew who worked for the U.S. government high up in the intel world, and as we talked of going to c-u- b- … awith and he had this to say: Don’t worry. It doesn’t matter. Large, small, relevant, irrelevant. They know where you are. Tbey are tracking us, and they are watching us.
Like the spy satellite they shot down yesterday. They’re tracking 3000 pieces of debris, as they fall back to earth. Any reason to think they can’t watch 3,000 boats around the evil island? Or scan for bad words in this blog? Anyway. 1984 is still wonderful for portraying hysteria, if not detail. Bless its acrid little heart. Good book. So lost on so many though, due to their projected values. I remember arguing in high school with my teachers, who made us read Animal Farm (I’d already read it, AHEM! [Just kidding, due to a voraciously literate older brother]), that was about more than the RUSSIAN revolution. They were near hysteria in their denials that it was ONLY about that revolution, and not about the hypocrisy of the powerful, and how all power systems are like chaos theory, destined for corruption. Certainly, the recent editing of the U.S. Constitution must have been a coincidence… Anyway, good stuff.
Sorry to any/all if this blog isn’t what you hoped it was/would be/apolitical, but unfortunately, we live political lives, in a politicized world, in what I perceive to be important times, where awareness is rare, and consciousness is a rare commodity, where even the “educated” are mostly well-rehearsed regurgitants… So forgive me for my endless commentary on our world. If it bugs you, I wouldn’t blame you, but it is our blog after all. You can always post yours, too. It’s a free country. Except online. Well, it is unless you write something objectionable. But you’re free to write things that are innocuous, and fit in with the greater population. Bad thoughts (ie: digressing ones), however are unfree, as we know they should be. You can always turn off your computer and turn on the T.V. Just don’t watch Fox. It’s the only network (though they’re all owned by enormous conflicted pro-war profiteers) that ACTIVELY and shamelessly promotes its political agenda, without even pretending to be other than an endless infomercial. If you disagree with this statement mildly, though, you haven’t seen it. If you disagree desperately, you watch it often. Whatever. Sorry for the politics.
Oh, screw it. Who am I kidding? No, I’m not. And to anyone not friend or family reading this blog, scanning for words like Cuba- GET BENT!
I love you all, gotta run.
And Mary Lee’s.
And Ruth Anne’s.
Ruth and I are at the airport, waiting to split. We have to be here at 6 a.m. to leave at 7 (what’s up? Have these people been hanging out in the colonies? What happened to the 15 minute rule? Ah, Nassau, and its big city ways…) We’ve already had the truck drive by, shine the light in our faces, and demand what we’re doing here, which, we reply is the actual situation, they just drive away without another word. (What? Have these people been hanging out in the States…?) So, they locked up a bit ago, so we sit outside, but luckily on my walkabout I found the lounge unlocked, full of snack machines, dominoes, and even checkers… There were also new cardboard boxes nearby ready for the rubbish heap that I snatched, one which held bags of Doritos, and subsequently became my current footrest, and the other I tore apart and laid on the ground and took a nap on, while a certain person with an “R” in her name scoffed at it. She is now sleeping on it peacefully, I may add…
Luckily, there is some wind tonight, so the bugs are not too bad. I have some welts on my leg for over a week- two anyway, that just grow and grow, and more and more sore. Okay, not grow and grow. Just grow, singular. One grow, then itch. Then slightly more they’re a growin’.
Saw the doc today, who told me I have no allergies, and then told me I may be allergic to myself, a la the Cows song of the same name. Good song, by the way, lookit up. He told me the test is $490, and then can do nothing about it, so I hem, haw, swear, kvetch, and etc., and then he says he has another way. He draws about a strawful of blood, and tells me to come back in 90. I do, and he injects it into my arm. And another of saline or something as a control. Guess what? My skin gets all puffy. From my own blood only. Great. I thought of that as a joke, over the summer.
“I had my fun… I’m allergic, to myself. MYself!” As it goes. Good tune.
Anyhoo, he prescribes me 200 prednisone (how generous!), and tells me that I’ll most likely have this to the grave (wow, how timeless!), and gives me two refills. Ruth and I get our scripts filled, and they screw up and give her 7 renews (she should have had 3) and me four, but who’s counting. Maybe it’s just the Bahamian way.
So, now we’re in the airport, after drinking a beer on the beach, having dinner in a restaurant, and saving $130 on a hotel for 6 hours. Now I’m reading 1984 again, and I’ll tell you what, even 34 pages into it, it’s just about spot on. Especially for 1945 when it was written. I mean, can you imagine (here’s the political part of my thinking, time to hang up the phone) that even then, he was saying that people would do pretty much ANYTHING and believe ANYTHING if they were kept in the fear and in the dark? Just substitute a giant picture of Britney Spears for Big Brother, and it’s about right to the detail. I remember in 1984, after having read it, people came out and denounced it as being ridiculous because that year had in fact, not actually produced telescreens in everyone’s living rooms.
Or had they? Maybe the television is sufficient and the telescreen (with camera, but don’t worry, you can buy those soon!) is unnecessary when people are so dutifully wrapped up in the latest “Oops, I did it again”-ness of our idiotic media. So much so that even here, you can tell who listens to Bahamian or British news (they sound coherent/literate) and who listens to Fox or the equivalent (they are hysterical, and speak in circles).
Everyone said “see, 1984 DIDN’T happen,” etc. Yet, I’m posting this on the internet. Any idea how many pieces of software are watching this blog, and everything else online now? We had a cat we knew who worked for the U.S. government high up in the intel world, and as we talked of going to c-u- b- … awith and he had this to say: Don’t worry. It doesn’t matter. Large, small, relevant, irrelevant. They know where you are. Tbey are tracking us, and they are watching us.
Like the spy satellite they shot down yesterday. They’re tracking 3000 pieces of debris, as they fall back to earth. Any reason to think they can’t watch 3,000 boats around the evil island? Or scan for bad words in this blog? Anyway. 1984 is still wonderful for portraying hysteria, if not detail. Bless its acrid little heart. Good book. So lost on so many though, due to their projected values. I remember arguing in high school with my teachers, who made us read Animal Farm (I’d already read it, AHEM! [Just kidding, due to a voraciously literate older brother]), that was about more than the RUSSIAN revolution. They were near hysteria in their denials that it was ONLY about that revolution, and not about the hypocrisy of the powerful, and how all power systems are like chaos theory, destined for corruption. Certainly, the recent editing of the U.S. Constitution must have been a coincidence… Anyway, good stuff.
Sorry to any/all if this blog isn’t what you hoped it was/would be/apolitical, but unfortunately, we live political lives, in a politicized world, in what I perceive to be important times, where awareness is rare, and consciousness is a rare commodity, where even the “educated” are mostly well-rehearsed regurgitants… So forgive me for my endless commentary on our world. If it bugs you, I wouldn’t blame you, but it is our blog after all. You can always post yours, too. It’s a free country. Except online. Well, it is unless you write something objectionable. But you’re free to write things that are innocuous, and fit in with the greater population. Bad thoughts (ie: digressing ones), however are unfree, as we know they should be. You can always turn off your computer and turn on the T.V. Just don’t watch Fox. It’s the only network (though they’re all owned by enormous conflicted pro-war profiteers) that ACTIVELY and shamelessly promotes its political agenda, without even pretending to be other than an endless infomercial. If you disagree with this statement mildly, though, you haven’t seen it. If you disagree desperately, you watch it often. Whatever. Sorry for the politics.
Oh, screw it. Who am I kidding? No, I’m not. And to anyone not friend or family reading this blog, scanning for words like Cuba- GET BENT!
I love you all, gotta run.
MONDAY, FEBRUARY 25, 2008
Jack here. Okay, a little background here. Things are just weird, maybe only to me, so if you get bored, I think there’s some racecar driver’s blogs on the other side of the interweb somewhere. The first thing, is there’s a bartender who has taken a shine to Ruth. Ruth and I are in the bar on the internet, and this bartender is being a real bastard every time we talk to him, just surly. I leave the room, and the dude comes right over, and sits on the bar, all nice and whatever, to Ruth. He’s asking this and that, and then asks if I’m her boyfriend or her husband. Ruth says husband, and that I’m a great guy, yada yada. He changes the subject, and starts asking how our solar panels work. That’s really weird, because he has never been to our boat. It’s miles away in the marina.
Hugh’s friend Anton or “Rock,” as he is known, pulls me aside and says watch out for this guy. He’s been a problem, hitting on Rock’s girl, and being really aggressive. I decide to
Say something to him out of anger
Not say anything
Call his manager
Not tell his manager anything
Say something to him, pull him aside and try to tell him it’s his lucky day, that he could have gotten fired or worse over this stuff, and that he should try to chill out, before he really upsets someone
So Ruth and I tried to get the doctor to see her again, but she insists we go to Nassau. We need to have Flamazine, she says, and there’s no more on the island. Also, the burn unit has to remove all of the skin from the blistered areas, and clean it, etc., and it’s risky, and it will get infected, etc. etc. Everyone has an opinion on which hospital she should go to too, the public or the private, and the people that say private are screaming from the rooftops practically, or else insisting that we go to Florida to get treatment, that costs be damned, money is no object, she’ll be horribly disfigured if she doesn’t, scarred for life, you only get one health, that the public hospital is full of butchers, etc. etc. etc. etc. We acquiesce to the idea of going to Nassau, but public hospital for us. Hey, we’re not the Rockefellers, if you hear what I’m sayin’. We also realize that what needs to be done could be done with a needle, scissors, a bottle of alcohol and more gauze, if we take our time. What we don’t have is Flamizine. So, to Nassau we go.
Ruth is barely covered in gauze, partially see through, etc. Ruth and I call the hotel, arrange for a ride, and who do they send over? Shawn, the bartender. Ah, interesting turn of events. On the way to the airport I ask if he ever gets down that way, to the marina. He says practically never. But knows all about our boat. Right.
Before we go though, The plane is cool, only like 8 seats, unfortunately Rock isn’t driving it. It’s a beautiful flight, the sea is like glass, but I’ll let Ruth get into that. The cool part for me is they take you to the airport about 15 minutes before your flight leaves. There’s no security, no check in, no ticket counter, no metal detector, nothing. Just a few smiling, chill people hanging out. For some reason, they don’t seem to be getting any terrorism over here. No “amber alerts,” not invading other countries to “prevent it,” and then leave the place full of pissed off orphans watching soldiers on their streetcorners, etc. Maybe we can learn something from these people. They’re much more positive. They’re so much more RELAXED.
We get to Nassau, the two of us, and go to the hospital, where we wait for like 8 hours for the burn unit. In between, we go to it twice, where they appear to be empty, but get sent to wait by the E.R. where it’s full of people. Before leaving, I get their assurance that they will not they won’t leave for the day without seeing Ruth, and I tell them we flew from Long Island, etc. So we go wait in E.R. Finally, we get called in to the E.R. We say “what about the burn unit?” They tell us it’s closed, and no one’s answering the phone. We finally get the burn dressed in E.R., where they say it’s first degree, not bad, doesn’t need to have skin removed in the blistered areas, etc. And get the prescription for Flamazine, Thermazine, Silver Sulfadine, etc. All the same drug. The one we couldn’t get in Long Island that’s so good and prevents scarring, etc. So Ruth’s E.R. visit? $30. Cash. Wow.
And it’s kinda true. Ruth’s back looks amazingly better. No infection-type redness, and less pain. It’s getting better really fast.
So, while Ruth is in the waiting room I get on the phone to try to call the doctor I saw when I was here. The doctor that cost $245. The private doctor. The allergist. The one that said that the battery of allergy tests was included in the price. The tests I didn’t get. The tests I wrote to them about. That they didn’t write back about. So I call today, and they say “we don’t GIVE allergy tests here.” I’m asking, why then, after flying here, and they tell me they did, and I see the doctor, and she prescribes medicine that treats the symptoms, why the hell did we go through all this? “Well, I’m sorry sir, that you were misled.” Man, these people are just so RELAXED. Of course, this office is Indian doctors, but still.
Well, anyway. Whatever. So tonight, Ruth and I got a hotel near the doc I have to see tomorrow, who also promises to test me for allergies. People told us it was a dump, scary, seedy, etc. Well, I’m here to tell you, it’s one of the nicest dumps I’ve ever seen. Tile floors, HBO, full size fridge, kitchenette with separate sink, two double beds, huge gardens, big ol’ pool, etc. What a dump. I highly recommend slumming it here sometime.
Okay, that’s all the news for now. The weather is GORGEOUS, even more than usual, meaning that even the big ocean is calm. Hopefully, we’ll have some of this for our next crossing. Or maybe for a nice day of fishing or scuba diving. Usually, it’s very big and rough for our little boat, except on the west side of the islands, and there, it’s super shallow, with little sea life. But beautiful, and calm, and chill.
We’re back at the ol’ hang now, Starbucks of Nassau. It’s right next to the doctor, the Nassau Harbor Club, where we’re having our package sent, and the hotel. We even stopped at Potter’s Cay and watched a little dominoes on the way over, after having cracked conch and conch salad. Good stuff. We stopped and saw Peter at the Nassau Harbor Club (wow, I missed it. I didn’t realize… good memories) and asked about our package. He says without our cruising permit enclosed, we have to pay 52% duty on it. So what was a $400 autopilot is now $600 plus. Yikes. Anyway.
I gotta go. I’ll be in touch.
Hugh’s friend Anton or “Rock,” as he is known, pulls me aside and says watch out for this guy. He’s been a problem, hitting on Rock’s girl, and being really aggressive. I decide to
Say something to him out of anger
Not say anything
Call his manager
Not tell his manager anything
Say something to him, pull him aside and try to tell him it’s his lucky day, that he could have gotten fired or worse over this stuff, and that he should try to chill out, before he really upsets someone
So Ruth and I tried to get the doctor to see her again, but she insists we go to Nassau. We need to have Flamazine, she says, and there’s no more on the island. Also, the burn unit has to remove all of the skin from the blistered areas, and clean it, etc., and it’s risky, and it will get infected, etc. etc. Everyone has an opinion on which hospital she should go to too, the public or the private, and the people that say private are screaming from the rooftops practically, or else insisting that we go to Florida to get treatment, that costs be damned, money is no object, she’ll be horribly disfigured if she doesn’t, scarred for life, you only get one health, that the public hospital is full of butchers, etc. etc. etc. etc. We acquiesce to the idea of going to Nassau, but public hospital for us. Hey, we’re not the Rockefellers, if you hear what I’m sayin’. We also realize that what needs to be done could be done with a needle, scissors, a bottle of alcohol and more gauze, if we take our time. What we don’t have is Flamizine. So, to Nassau we go.
Ruth is barely covered in gauze, partially see through, etc. Ruth and I call the hotel, arrange for a ride, and who do they send over? Shawn, the bartender. Ah, interesting turn of events. On the way to the airport I ask if he ever gets down that way, to the marina. He says practically never. But knows all about our boat. Right.
Before we go though, The plane is cool, only like 8 seats, unfortunately Rock isn’t driving it. It’s a beautiful flight, the sea is like glass, but I’ll let Ruth get into that. The cool part for me is they take you to the airport about 15 minutes before your flight leaves. There’s no security, no check in, no ticket counter, no metal detector, nothing. Just a few smiling, chill people hanging out. For some reason, they don’t seem to be getting any terrorism over here. No “amber alerts,” not invading other countries to “prevent it,” and then leave the place full of pissed off orphans watching soldiers on their streetcorners, etc. Maybe we can learn something from these people. They’re much more positive. They’re so much more RELAXED.
We get to Nassau, the two of us, and go to the hospital, where we wait for like 8 hours for the burn unit. In between, we go to it twice, where they appear to be empty, but get sent to wait by the E.R. where it’s full of people. Before leaving, I get their assurance that they will not they won’t leave for the day without seeing Ruth, and I tell them we flew from Long Island, etc. So we go wait in E.R. Finally, we get called in to the E.R. We say “what about the burn unit?” They tell us it’s closed, and no one’s answering the phone. We finally get the burn dressed in E.R., where they say it’s first degree, not bad, doesn’t need to have skin removed in the blistered areas, etc. And get the prescription for Flamazine, Thermazine, Silver Sulfadine, etc. All the same drug. The one we couldn’t get in Long Island that’s so good and prevents scarring, etc. So Ruth’s E.R. visit? $30. Cash. Wow.
And it’s kinda true. Ruth’s back looks amazingly better. No infection-type redness, and less pain. It’s getting better really fast.
So, while Ruth is in the waiting room I get on the phone to try to call the doctor I saw when I was here. The doctor that cost $245. The private doctor. The allergist. The one that said that the battery of allergy tests was included in the price. The tests I didn’t get. The tests I wrote to them about. That they didn’t write back about. So I call today, and they say “we don’t GIVE allergy tests here.” I’m asking, why then, after flying here, and they tell me they did, and I see the doctor, and she prescribes medicine that treats the symptoms, why the hell did we go through all this? “Well, I’m sorry sir, that you were misled.” Man, these people are just so RELAXED. Of course, this office is Indian doctors, but still.
Well, anyway. Whatever. So tonight, Ruth and I got a hotel near the doc I have to see tomorrow, who also promises to test me for allergies. People told us it was a dump, scary, seedy, etc. Well, I’m here to tell you, it’s one of the nicest dumps I’ve ever seen. Tile floors, HBO, full size fridge, kitchenette with separate sink, two double beds, huge gardens, big ol’ pool, etc. What a dump. I highly recommend slumming it here sometime.
Okay, that’s all the news for now. The weather is GORGEOUS, even more than usual, meaning that even the big ocean is calm. Hopefully, we’ll have some of this for our next crossing. Or maybe for a nice day of fishing or scuba diving. Usually, it’s very big and rough for our little boat, except on the west side of the islands, and there, it’s super shallow, with little sea life. But beautiful, and calm, and chill.
We’re back at the ol’ hang now, Starbucks of Nassau. It’s right next to the doctor, the Nassau Harbor Club, where we’re having our package sent, and the hotel. We even stopped at Potter’s Cay and watched a little dominoes on the way over, after having cracked conch and conch salad. Good stuff. We stopped and saw Peter at the Nassau Harbor Club (wow, I missed it. I didn’t realize… good memories) and asked about our package. He says without our cruising permit enclosed, we have to pay 52% duty on it. So what was a $400 autopilot is now $600 plus. Yikes. Anyway.
I gotta go. I’ll be in touch.
Saturday, February 23, 2008
RUTH GOT BURNED, BUT IS OKAY/ RUTH CATCHING UP ON HER BLOGS
SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 23 2008
JL writing. So, time to catch up again. Another eventful day, and not really so good. This morning, Ruth and I decided to take advantage of the calm sea to the East, and take off to Concepcion Island, or possibly Rum Cay. We stocked all up on everything the last few days, filled the fridge full of meat and other good stuff, several pounds of yams, five pounds of burger, a bunch of pork chops, produce, etc. I went to the office to pay, and our fivc latest days here were at an end.
As I was walking back to the boat, here comes Ruth, very upset. She said there was a fire on the boat. I started yelling about the fire extinguisher, and she said it was a grease fire, but it’s out. I said “you didn’t throw water on it did you?” She had been on the boat, boiling oil to make deep fried yams, and made burgers. While she was cooking the burgers, the oil caught fire in the pot. Maybe it was because she had a cover on it to bring it to a boil faster. In any event, she picked it up with pot holders, and threw the whole thing overboard. When the oil, like 350 degrees plus, hit the salt water, which has a boiling temperature of like 170 or something, it essentially exploded. The flames grew to like five feet on the water, and all of the burning oil from the pan splashed back onto her from the explosion on the water. It hit her skin, and burned her all over her back, arm, and spots all over. The flames burned the hair from her arm, and even behind her ear on the side of her head.
When we both went back to the boat to try to get her some relief, there was still a pot on fire, and what do I do, first thing, but pick it up and throw it overboard. Damn reflexes. They work for some things, anyway. And Ruth picked up a towel next to it, still burning, and throws that in. Less egregious of an error, but the same reflexes in both of us, despite what we know.
The bottom line is, first degree burns all over the damn place, second in places, and one spot by her waist about as big as my hand.
The following is a little more of a graphic description. I’m including the detail to give a realistic account of her injuries so that the people who care about Ruth can know what’s really going on, but not to be morbid. If reading about it, or anything else in this blog bothers you, please skip ahead. While I’m on the subject, I’ll reiterate something I said when starting it- we write in this blog not as we would talk to a parent, a judge, a cop, a great uncle, or even a neighbor, but as a we would talk to a friend, and someone we trust to give the benefit of the doubt to the writer. No guard, no b.s., no façade, no formalities. That is a show of faith on our part that we’re frank and open. Please appreciate that, and don’t resent it. Sometimes, in frankness, we swear when we talk… even to you. That is not disrespect. That means we trust you enough to share the bare bones of the thoughts in our head, without edit, as we would to a friend. Take it as a compliment. Okay, enough said. Read on.
She has first or second degree burns over about 17% of her body, mostly on her back. She was upset, of course. The skin was melted off, basically. It was very hot, very quick, and so the top layer separated from the others by large, sagging blisters. We put aloe on it right away, took four motrin, and at that point, the man in the marina, Eberhard, came to give me the receipt, and ended up driving us to the doctor. From there, the doctor drove us to the clinic, on her day off, and treated Ruth. By then, Ruth was feeling somewhat better, and was a great sport throughout. (Now, she’s admiring the drapes, smelling the magazines, and seems to be in fine spirits.) Right away, the whole thing was in perspective, that it was better that it wasn’t worse. She was more upset at the perceived inconvenience to us than of her injuries, it seems. We don’t know that a trip to Nassau would be necessary, except to get supplies to treat it, which you can’t do without a trip to the doc. And Ruth wanted me to come with, so now we’re both planning on leaving tomorrow.
Anyway, so the doctor, Nadia, is the wife of the man running the resort, Nils, and she cleaned everything, put antibacterial burn medicine on, and she and I gauzed Ruth all up. She then treated a sprained finger a little girl had, and then drove us back to the marina. Once back, Garrett, Nils’ father approached me and said that he heard we were going to Nassau to get further treatment in the a.m. I said we were, and so he said that he would give us a free room at the hotel until the morning flight, because the family all thought it would be best if Ruth had a.c. for the night. Was that nice or what?
He said that the a.c. in his house isn’t working, or he would have had us there. Shortly after, his wife came and told us they were sending a car to pick us up to take us to our free room.
While we waited, we removed the pork chops, bananas, and other perishables from our fridge, and took them to give to Garrett and family. Because we couldn’t find them, we gave them to Hugh instead, and cooked up pork chops while we awaited our ride. Pat and Bob brought over a cake for our dessert, and everybody commiserated over how best to proceed.
I guess the points I’m trying to make are:
First, Ruth will be okay. It is very painful, she has large blistered areas, but it appears to be fairly superficial, not deep, and not going to scar. The doctor concurred on my layman’s take on that. Because the clinics here are light on supplies, like the necessary creams, etc. We’ll go to Nassau though, to make sure it won’t get infected, and heals productively. In the meantime, she says it is not killing her, even though it is painful. She says on a one to ten scale of pain, it’s a one, and at the moment she says it doesn’t hurt at all. We are VERY grateful this isn’t worse.
The second point: How kind people are once again. The place we’re staying in has a.c., a balcony, vaulted ceilings, king sized bed (maybe bigger), in this fabulous resort. And for free. Yesterday when Ruth went shopping, she said this lady picked her up, I think the first driver that passed, and took her to the store. She said she would pick her up in half an hour and drive her back. Have you ever heard of people being like this to strangers? It’s practically dreamlike.
Oh yeah. Third: The treatment Ruth got today, including the doctor seeing her at her house, on her day off, then driving her to the clinic, and then to the marina, and treating her, wrapping her, gauzing her, cleaning her, and giving us handfuls of medicines to take with us, cost a whopping $46 dollars. Can you imagine trying to get treatment like that in the U.S., let alone for $46? That’s government sponsored healthcare. If this was the U.S., that E.R. visit would have been a grand, and if you don’t pay it, your credit would be ruined. Nice choices. The next time someone tells me we don’t need socialized healthcare (which is basically everyone obediently listening to Fox News in the U.S., and here too), I’m going to try to avoid screaming at them, and make every effort to just grate my teeth, and shake my head at their ignorance of what it’s like for the rest of us. In the meantime, hats off to socialized medicine!!! We’re going to both fly to Nassau, see another doctor, get treated, and stay a few days in a hotel, most likely for less than an E.R. visit would have cost. Hot dog. Lesson learned: if you’re going have an accident, do it in the Bahamas. The tourist slogan “It’s better in the Bahamas” is true, I think. That goes for most things, even getting hit by a bus or covered in boiling oil. Of course, in the States, we could always sue someone. Maybe Wesson Oil Inc. and Florence Henderson in a joint liability.
Anyway, we are both well. Ruth will be fine, and I will take good care of this poor girl. She’s been through so much. Three major injuries in the last year. All on the damned boat. Maybe we should sink it. But we’ll be in Nassau for a few days, and probably in a hotel there, or maybe we can stay with Peter, or Gavin and Michelle or someone. While there, we’ll pick up our Tillerpilot automatic pilot we had shipped there, and I’ll probably go ask again to have the allergist give me the allergy test I paid for but didn’t get when I was there. So that’s our news, and when all this is taken care of, we will resume carousing.
So anyway, that was a few hours ago, and now you’re up to date. We’ll hopefully leave in the morning, and now I will stop neglecting my wife. We just wanted you all to be in the loop. I’m sure you’ll all return the favor and keep us apprised of what’s going on with people up there that is of note. Or even if nothing is, so that we’re not in the dark. I took pictures of the injuries too, so you can see for yourselves, but that’s on the boat, and will have to wait, because it’ll be a while before we’re back there.
XOX,
Jack
Ruth's Update – Jan 9th to Feb. 16th
On Valentine's Day I began my massive summary of our trip since
leaving Staniel Cay. I left off at Black Point (6 miles south of
Staniel) where Jack and I had finished a day long hike to The White
Horses cliffs. I believe the date was January 8th.
January 9 -
The following day Jack and I snorkeled some coral heads nearby and
Jack speared his first fish! We are still unsure of the species,
although we speculate it may be some type of Jack fish, haha. The
pics are definitely somewhere on the site. The fish was bright yellow
with shiny blue stripes. It was very beautiful…and tasty.
In his earlier attempts to catch something, Jack injured a fish that
got away. I watched its green blood squirt out under water in a mist
like tear gas as it swam away. Moments earlier I had seen about a 6
foot long shark along the outside of the coral edge near the drop off.
I watched it turn away from where we were and slide into the deeper
water so, although alerting Jack of its presence, I was not concerned
– until I saw the fish blood. Assuming the shark would get a whiff
and turn around I swam back to the boat and got in. No sooner was I
in the boat when Jack called out the shark was back and he got out
too. Besides seeing Nurse sharks from the safety of the dock, that was
our first official shark experience! It was very exciting and left me
hungry for more!
We originally snorkeled this particular spot in hopes we'd find some
lobster, but no dice. Still, I was more than satisfied with the
beautiful coral, the shark experience, Jack's catch, and a glimpse of
my first angel fish. Angel fish are native to the Pacific and are a
danger to the eco-system in the Atlantic because they have no natural
predators. The angel fish is beautifully striped red and white with
very long spikes protruding from its back. The spikes are poisonous,
and in extreme cases can cause nausea, paralysis, and death. I saw
two big ones that day and marveled at their beauty.
January 10 –
The last day at Black Point I went for a jog on the island. I passed
about seven different people at separate locations who were weaving
baskets from palm leaves. Since then I've seen baskets, purses, and
photo albums all woven from palm leaves. I believe only a certain type
of palm is used, but I will have to double check what type it is. I
think it's so fascinating how they can weave such a strong, durable
object from those thin leaves! Beautiful.
Also during my run, I passed a Bahamian who, when I called out "good
morning," exclaimed with a big smile, "Are you trottin?! She's
trottin'! SHE'S TROTTIN'!!!" From here on out, I will refer to my
jogging as trottin'! J
When I returned, Jack and I took the boat to a nearby cut in hopes of
catching 'the big one,' but the current was so strong that the waves
flowing through the cut were very high, very strong, and all around
very intense, so this led to us anchoring the boat nearby and
snorkeling instead. Although the current was kind of a bitch, I had a
great time until I almost free dove onto an 8 foot sleeping reef
shark. When I pointed out the shark, we decided to head in and upon
seeing three large barracuda eyeing us with their razor-sharp stares,
we swam at a slightly panicked pace back to the boat.
Heading away from Black Point, we checked out a couple shipwrecks in a
nearby creek (where only a boat with our shallow draft could go),
checked out the ruins of a marina "castle," and viewed a fairly recent
sailboat wreck that had washed ashore. Then we hoisted the sails and
directed ourselves towards Little Farmers Cay. We arrived at night and
since we had no cash, couldn't enjoy the bar or restaurant. We threw
our trash into the local dump and enjoyed a big spaghetti dinner on
the boat under the stars. No money, no problems.
January 11 –
We awoke ready to hoist sail. It was a cloudy, windy, and slightly
rainy morning. We sailed south in strong southeasterly winds in waters
that were a bit rougher than we anticipated. We had planned on
snorkeling a plane wreck at Little Lansing Cay on the way but because
of the conditions we just surveyed it from the boat instead. The sun
came out as the day progressed, but the winds didn't die. We ducked
into a protected area at Rudder Cut Cay to anchor because we could see
a large cave from out in the bay where we were sailing. The cave was
magnificent! It was maybe 30-40 feet tall, about 30 feet deep, and you
could snorkel all the way inside it. There were a couple large holes
in the ceiling where the rock had given way, which let the sun filter
in. You could look up and see the blue sky and palm trees, and some
mangrove roots had started growing inside the holes and wrapping
around the inside of the cave. It was beautiful. In the deepest corner
of the cave were, I swear, THOUSANDS of sparkling rainbow minnows! It
was such a gorgeous site! I also saw a sleeping baby shark, and I took
my first shot with the spear gun at a Nassau Grouper, which was
unsuccessful. Outside of the cave was a big conch field (an
underwater grassy, sandy area where the conch like to romp). Jack dove
and selected a large number of conch – at least twenty—that we
could
eat for dinner.
As sundown approached, we decided to anchor at Lee Stocking Island
for the night. The wind had picked up so we turned on the motor along
with the sails. We reefed the main, and we had to keep trimming the
jib because the wind was so strong the boat was heeling at practically
a 45 degree angle. Unfortunately we trimmed the jib so tight that the
wind caused it to flap so hard it tore. It's an old sail – over 20
years – and it already had a tear along the seam (from 40mph gusts in
Michigan this summer) that we had patched up right before the trip, so
we didn't sweat it. Jack patched it with sail tape and sewed it with
fishing line when we got to Georgetown.
We made it to Lee Stocking safe and sound, just after dark. It was
then time to work on the conch Jack grabbed earlier in the day. He
found one shell that was empty so he chiseled off the top and made it
into a horn. (Later, when anchored at Salt Pond on Long Island, every
boat in the anchorage with one of these let out a mighty blow at
sunset! We chimed in too, of course. It was great!) Back to the conch
though, we swore we would never pick that many conch at one time ever
again. It took almost three hours to prepare and was quite the
headache. The process includes chiseling a hole on the top, prying the
sucker out, trimming and skinning them, then tenderizing them. Doesn't
sound like much, but preparing two or three conch that way is more
than enough work for what it's worth. Adding twenty five more conch to
the equation was quite a task. We attempted to make "cracked conch"
which is basically conch chopped up, breaded, and deep fried. By the
time it was ready, WE were ready, and it wasn't bad. But needless to
say we didn't eat the leftovers….
Jan 12 –
After the turbulent sail the previous day, it was a pleasure to enjoy
the calm, protected anchorage at Lee Stocking. Our friend Brian,
(from North Carolina?) stopped by our boat with his girlfriend
Stephanie, who was visiting for the week. They were planning on
snorkeling the ocean side of the island and we asked if we could join.
We hiked a couple "trails" to the opposite side of the island and
settled on a semi-rocky area. The crashing waves were a bit
intimidating, but once in the water I found it was very easy to swim.
There wasn't much to see, just rocks and not a lot of fish life. Jack
followed a silver fish with the spear but the hunt was unsuccessful.
We both saw a large stingray gliding along the bottom in the deeper
part of the ocean beyond the rocks.
Back at the boat, the solar panels weren't kicking out enough juice,
and upon investigation Jack discovered a few corroded wires. He
re-wired the damaged areas, wrapped the connectors in electrical tape,
and that essentially fixed the problem.
We decided to continue our trip south, our ultimate destination being
Georgetown, a central hub for boaters to provision before heading
south or north. We had heard that the anchorages were usually packed
with boats (when we arrived the count was over 120 and during a cold
front we experienced there it easily reached beyond 200). Before
heading out, Brian offered to trade us a lobster for some gin. We
hadn't eaten, let alone caught, a lobster down here so we eagerly
agreed. No sooner had we left the anchorage did Brian catch up to us
on his dinghy to bring us ANOTHER lobster he had just caught minutes
after we left. What a guy! We enjoyed our first premium lobster dinner
that night! The tails were SO filling! We anchored at Hamlet Cay after
heading in from the rough ocean, the quickest route to G-Town. The
next day we took the ocean south with its massive waves heaving the
boat to, fro, and everywhere in-between.
We got to Georgetown and our first night there we got drunk, wandered
the streets, found a warehouse full of locals hanging out, played in a
drum circle with them, and had a political discussion with a
Rastafarian. In the next week we provisioned, got on the internet, I
jogged a few times, and we enjoyed a few beach parties complete with a
sing-alongs and dirty jokes told around a campfire. The following week
Burt and Phyllis visited, which was PHENOMENAL. What an extraordinary
week that was!!! Here's a rough sketch of what went down while they
were here:
Mon – 4-5 miler in the morning, walk to fish fry with Jack for lunch,
hitchhike to airport (got picked up three times), took Burt and Phyll
to the Rake n' Scrape at Eddie's Edgewater, heavy rain that night!!
Made it back to the boat to ensure its safety.
Tues – pull up to the dock for fuel, water, laundry, atm; mom's
bakery
(a local whom everyone refers to as "mom" who sells THE FRESHEST baked
goods out of her van), jack hearing Phyllis call over VHF over mom's
van; took Burt n' Phyll over to Hamburger Beach for snacks n'
cocktails via the boat, 40-50 people there, vote for group name (which
turned out to be AHOY – Alcohol, Hor'dourves, and Other Yummies),
campfire, songs, I played the ukulele and Jack sung Waltzing Matilda,
ride back to the Peace n' Plenty hotel, docked, spend the night J,
read a book outside when I couldn't sleep and a rat crept up nearly
onto my foot!
Wed – breakfast in the hotel room, ________?___________, sunset out
on
the boat, dinner at the hotel restaurant, started showing pictures
from our trip
Thurs – tour with Angela at 10 am, drove around Great Exuma Island,
Jack and I got a beer at Big D's Conch Bar where there was a beautiful
view into the sound and showed P&B conch shells, lunch at Cheater's,
beautiful view at the salt beacon, naps while I worked on music,
dinner at the hotel, showed more pictures at night
Fri – slept in till noon, lunch at the hotel restaurant,
______?______, cocktail party at hotel, mucho fun!
Sat – went out on the boat to scope out good snorkeling spots, 4:30
Angela's dinner party (spectacular food!), showed final pictures and
movies back at the hotel
Sun – snorkeling day! Perfect day, sunny, calm; breakfast at the
hotel
restaurant, brought the boat around, snorkeled the spot we scoped out,
Phyllis went in for a long time – sooo youthful and inspiring, went
into the crazy cut!!! Ruth – "this is intense" Phyllis – "this is
GREAT!" , P&B nap on the boat while J&R grab a burger and get them a
conch salad at Volleyball Beach, group of people on three-master that
helped at the dock and helped Burt when his leg gave him trouble,
showed pictures and movie clips from the past week back in the room.
Awoke at 4:45 to make flight!
ROKey Dokreee…Jack wrote about catching the Snapper, the terrifying
trip to the Jumentos, and our wonderful welcoming to Long
Island!….Therefore I think that does it for my update. I will
continue on as usual now. So long, and have a peaceful night tucked
under warm blankets.
JL writing. So, time to catch up again. Another eventful day, and not really so good. This morning, Ruth and I decided to take advantage of the calm sea to the East, and take off to Concepcion Island, or possibly Rum Cay. We stocked all up on everything the last few days, filled the fridge full of meat and other good stuff, several pounds of yams, five pounds of burger, a bunch of pork chops, produce, etc. I went to the office to pay, and our fivc latest days here were at an end.
As I was walking back to the boat, here comes Ruth, very upset. She said there was a fire on the boat. I started yelling about the fire extinguisher, and she said it was a grease fire, but it’s out. I said “you didn’t throw water on it did you?” She had been on the boat, boiling oil to make deep fried yams, and made burgers. While she was cooking the burgers, the oil caught fire in the pot. Maybe it was because she had a cover on it to bring it to a boil faster. In any event, she picked it up with pot holders, and threw the whole thing overboard. When the oil, like 350 degrees plus, hit the salt water, which has a boiling temperature of like 170 or something, it essentially exploded. The flames grew to like five feet on the water, and all of the burning oil from the pan splashed back onto her from the explosion on the water. It hit her skin, and burned her all over her back, arm, and spots all over. The flames burned the hair from her arm, and even behind her ear on the side of her head.
When we both went back to the boat to try to get her some relief, there was still a pot on fire, and what do I do, first thing, but pick it up and throw it overboard. Damn reflexes. They work for some things, anyway. And Ruth picked up a towel next to it, still burning, and throws that in. Less egregious of an error, but the same reflexes in both of us, despite what we know.
The bottom line is, first degree burns all over the damn place, second in places, and one spot by her waist about as big as my hand.
The following is a little more of a graphic description. I’m including the detail to give a realistic account of her injuries so that the people who care about Ruth can know what’s really going on, but not to be morbid. If reading about it, or anything else in this blog bothers you, please skip ahead. While I’m on the subject, I’ll reiterate something I said when starting it- we write in this blog not as we would talk to a parent, a judge, a cop, a great uncle, or even a neighbor, but as a we would talk to a friend, and someone we trust to give the benefit of the doubt to the writer. No guard, no b.s., no façade, no formalities. That is a show of faith on our part that we’re frank and open. Please appreciate that, and don’t resent it. Sometimes, in frankness, we swear when we talk… even to you. That is not disrespect. That means we trust you enough to share the bare bones of the thoughts in our head, without edit, as we would to a friend. Take it as a compliment. Okay, enough said. Read on.
She has first or second degree burns over about 17% of her body, mostly on her back. She was upset, of course. The skin was melted off, basically. It was very hot, very quick, and so the top layer separated from the others by large, sagging blisters. We put aloe on it right away, took four motrin, and at that point, the man in the marina, Eberhard, came to give me the receipt, and ended up driving us to the doctor. From there, the doctor drove us to the clinic, on her day off, and treated Ruth. By then, Ruth was feeling somewhat better, and was a great sport throughout. (Now, she’s admiring the drapes, smelling the magazines, and seems to be in fine spirits.) Right away, the whole thing was in perspective, that it was better that it wasn’t worse. She was more upset at the perceived inconvenience to us than of her injuries, it seems. We don’t know that a trip to Nassau would be necessary, except to get supplies to treat it, which you can’t do without a trip to the doc. And Ruth wanted me to come with, so now we’re both planning on leaving tomorrow.
Anyway, so the doctor, Nadia, is the wife of the man running the resort, Nils, and she cleaned everything, put antibacterial burn medicine on, and she and I gauzed Ruth all up. She then treated a sprained finger a little girl had, and then drove us back to the marina. Once back, Garrett, Nils’ father approached me and said that he heard we were going to Nassau to get further treatment in the a.m. I said we were, and so he said that he would give us a free room at the hotel until the morning flight, because the family all thought it would be best if Ruth had a.c. for the night. Was that nice or what?
He said that the a.c. in his house isn’t working, or he would have had us there. Shortly after, his wife came and told us they were sending a car to pick us up to take us to our free room.
While we waited, we removed the pork chops, bananas, and other perishables from our fridge, and took them to give to Garrett and family. Because we couldn’t find them, we gave them to Hugh instead, and cooked up pork chops while we awaited our ride. Pat and Bob brought over a cake for our dessert, and everybody commiserated over how best to proceed.
I guess the points I’m trying to make are:
First, Ruth will be okay. It is very painful, she has large blistered areas, but it appears to be fairly superficial, not deep, and not going to scar. The doctor concurred on my layman’s take on that. Because the clinics here are light on supplies, like the necessary creams, etc. We’ll go to Nassau though, to make sure it won’t get infected, and heals productively. In the meantime, she says it is not killing her, even though it is painful. She says on a one to ten scale of pain, it’s a one, and at the moment she says it doesn’t hurt at all. We are VERY grateful this isn’t worse.
The second point: How kind people are once again. The place we’re staying in has a.c., a balcony, vaulted ceilings, king sized bed (maybe bigger), in this fabulous resort. And for free. Yesterday when Ruth went shopping, she said this lady picked her up, I think the first driver that passed, and took her to the store. She said she would pick her up in half an hour and drive her back. Have you ever heard of people being like this to strangers? It’s practically dreamlike.
Oh yeah. Third: The treatment Ruth got today, including the doctor seeing her at her house, on her day off, then driving her to the clinic, and then to the marina, and treating her, wrapping her, gauzing her, cleaning her, and giving us handfuls of medicines to take with us, cost a whopping $46 dollars. Can you imagine trying to get treatment like that in the U.S., let alone for $46? That’s government sponsored healthcare. If this was the U.S., that E.R. visit would have been a grand, and if you don’t pay it, your credit would be ruined. Nice choices. The next time someone tells me we don’t need socialized healthcare (which is basically everyone obediently listening to Fox News in the U.S., and here too), I’m going to try to avoid screaming at them, and make every effort to just grate my teeth, and shake my head at their ignorance of what it’s like for the rest of us. In the meantime, hats off to socialized medicine!!! We’re going to both fly to Nassau, see another doctor, get treated, and stay a few days in a hotel, most likely for less than an E.R. visit would have cost. Hot dog. Lesson learned: if you’re going have an accident, do it in the Bahamas. The tourist slogan “It’s better in the Bahamas” is true, I think. That goes for most things, even getting hit by a bus or covered in boiling oil. Of course, in the States, we could always sue someone. Maybe Wesson Oil Inc. and Florence Henderson in a joint liability.
Anyway, we are both well. Ruth will be fine, and I will take good care of this poor girl. She’s been through so much. Three major injuries in the last year. All on the damned boat. Maybe we should sink it. But we’ll be in Nassau for a few days, and probably in a hotel there, or maybe we can stay with Peter, or Gavin and Michelle or someone. While there, we’ll pick up our Tillerpilot automatic pilot we had shipped there, and I’ll probably go ask again to have the allergist give me the allergy test I paid for but didn’t get when I was there. So that’s our news, and when all this is taken care of, we will resume carousing.
So anyway, that was a few hours ago, and now you’re up to date. We’ll hopefully leave in the morning, and now I will stop neglecting my wife. We just wanted you all to be in the loop. I’m sure you’ll all return the favor and keep us apprised of what’s going on with people up there that is of note. Or even if nothing is, so that we’re not in the dark. I took pictures of the injuries too, so you can see for yourselves, but that’s on the boat, and will have to wait, because it’ll be a while before we’re back there.
XOX,
Jack
Ruth's Update – Jan 9th to Feb. 16th
On Valentine's Day I began my massive summary of our trip since
leaving Staniel Cay. I left off at Black Point (6 miles south of
Staniel) where Jack and I had finished a day long hike to The White
Horses cliffs. I believe the date was January 8th.
January 9 -
The following day Jack and I snorkeled some coral heads nearby and
Jack speared his first fish! We are still unsure of the species,
although we speculate it may be some type of Jack fish, haha. The
pics are definitely somewhere on the site. The fish was bright yellow
with shiny blue stripes. It was very beautiful…and tasty.
In his earlier attempts to catch something, Jack injured a fish that
got away. I watched its green blood squirt out under water in a mist
like tear gas as it swam away. Moments earlier I had seen about a 6
foot long shark along the outside of the coral edge near the drop off.
I watched it turn away from where we were and slide into the deeper
water so, although alerting Jack of its presence, I was not concerned
– until I saw the fish blood. Assuming the shark would get a whiff
and turn around I swam back to the boat and got in. No sooner was I
in the boat when Jack called out the shark was back and he got out
too. Besides seeing Nurse sharks from the safety of the dock, that was
our first official shark experience! It was very exciting and left me
hungry for more!
We originally snorkeled this particular spot in hopes we'd find some
lobster, but no dice. Still, I was more than satisfied with the
beautiful coral, the shark experience, Jack's catch, and a glimpse of
my first angel fish. Angel fish are native to the Pacific and are a
danger to the eco-system in the Atlantic because they have no natural
predators. The angel fish is beautifully striped red and white with
very long spikes protruding from its back. The spikes are poisonous,
and in extreme cases can cause nausea, paralysis, and death. I saw
two big ones that day and marveled at their beauty.
January 10 –
The last day at Black Point I went for a jog on the island. I passed
about seven different people at separate locations who were weaving
baskets from palm leaves. Since then I've seen baskets, purses, and
photo albums all woven from palm leaves. I believe only a certain type
of palm is used, but I will have to double check what type it is. I
think it's so fascinating how they can weave such a strong, durable
object from those thin leaves! Beautiful.
Also during my run, I passed a Bahamian who, when I called out "good
morning," exclaimed with a big smile, "Are you trottin?! She's
trottin'! SHE'S TROTTIN'!!!" From here on out, I will refer to my
jogging as trottin'! J
When I returned, Jack and I took the boat to a nearby cut in hopes of
catching 'the big one,' but the current was so strong that the waves
flowing through the cut were very high, very strong, and all around
very intense, so this led to us anchoring the boat nearby and
snorkeling instead. Although the current was kind of a bitch, I had a
great time until I almost free dove onto an 8 foot sleeping reef
shark. When I pointed out the shark, we decided to head in and upon
seeing three large barracuda eyeing us with their razor-sharp stares,
we swam at a slightly panicked pace back to the boat.
Heading away from Black Point, we checked out a couple shipwrecks in a
nearby creek (where only a boat with our shallow draft could go),
checked out the ruins of a marina "castle," and viewed a fairly recent
sailboat wreck that had washed ashore. Then we hoisted the sails and
directed ourselves towards Little Farmers Cay. We arrived at night and
since we had no cash, couldn't enjoy the bar or restaurant. We threw
our trash into the local dump and enjoyed a big spaghetti dinner on
the boat under the stars. No money, no problems.
January 11 –
We awoke ready to hoist sail. It was a cloudy, windy, and slightly
rainy morning. We sailed south in strong southeasterly winds in waters
that were a bit rougher than we anticipated. We had planned on
snorkeling a plane wreck at Little Lansing Cay on the way but because
of the conditions we just surveyed it from the boat instead. The sun
came out as the day progressed, but the winds didn't die. We ducked
into a protected area at Rudder Cut Cay to anchor because we could see
a large cave from out in the bay where we were sailing. The cave was
magnificent! It was maybe 30-40 feet tall, about 30 feet deep, and you
could snorkel all the way inside it. There were a couple large holes
in the ceiling where the rock had given way, which let the sun filter
in. You could look up and see the blue sky and palm trees, and some
mangrove roots had started growing inside the holes and wrapping
around the inside of the cave. It was beautiful. In the deepest corner
of the cave were, I swear, THOUSANDS of sparkling rainbow minnows! It
was such a gorgeous site! I also saw a sleeping baby shark, and I took
my first shot with the spear gun at a Nassau Grouper, which was
unsuccessful. Outside of the cave was a big conch field (an
underwater grassy, sandy area where the conch like to romp). Jack dove
and selected a large number of conch – at least twenty—that we
could
eat for dinner.
As sundown approached, we decided to anchor at Lee Stocking Island
for the night. The wind had picked up so we turned on the motor along
with the sails. We reefed the main, and we had to keep trimming the
jib because the wind was so strong the boat was heeling at practically
a 45 degree angle. Unfortunately we trimmed the jib so tight that the
wind caused it to flap so hard it tore. It's an old sail – over 20
years – and it already had a tear along the seam (from 40mph gusts in
Michigan this summer) that we had patched up right before the trip, so
we didn't sweat it. Jack patched it with sail tape and sewed it with
fishing line when we got to Georgetown.
We made it to Lee Stocking safe and sound, just after dark. It was
then time to work on the conch Jack grabbed earlier in the day. He
found one shell that was empty so he chiseled off the top and made it
into a horn. (Later, when anchored at Salt Pond on Long Island, every
boat in the anchorage with one of these let out a mighty blow at
sunset! We chimed in too, of course. It was great!) Back to the conch
though, we swore we would never pick that many conch at one time ever
again. It took almost three hours to prepare and was quite the
headache. The process includes chiseling a hole on the top, prying the
sucker out, trimming and skinning them, then tenderizing them. Doesn't
sound like much, but preparing two or three conch that way is more
than enough work for what it's worth. Adding twenty five more conch to
the equation was quite a task. We attempted to make "cracked conch"
which is basically conch chopped up, breaded, and deep fried. By the
time it was ready, WE were ready, and it wasn't bad. But needless to
say we didn't eat the leftovers….
Jan 12 –
After the turbulent sail the previous day, it was a pleasure to enjoy
the calm, protected anchorage at Lee Stocking. Our friend Brian,
(from North Carolina?) stopped by our boat with his girlfriend
Stephanie, who was visiting for the week. They were planning on
snorkeling the ocean side of the island and we asked if we could join.
We hiked a couple "trails" to the opposite side of the island and
settled on a semi-rocky area. The crashing waves were a bit
intimidating, but once in the water I found it was very easy to swim.
There wasn't much to see, just rocks and not a lot of fish life. Jack
followed a silver fish with the spear but the hunt was unsuccessful.
We both saw a large stingray gliding along the bottom in the deeper
part of the ocean beyond the rocks.
Back at the boat, the solar panels weren't kicking out enough juice,
and upon investigation Jack discovered a few corroded wires. He
re-wired the damaged areas, wrapped the connectors in electrical tape,
and that essentially fixed the problem.
We decided to continue our trip south, our ultimate destination being
Georgetown, a central hub for boaters to provision before heading
south or north. We had heard that the anchorages were usually packed
with boats (when we arrived the count was over 120 and during a cold
front we experienced there it easily reached beyond 200). Before
heading out, Brian offered to trade us a lobster for some gin. We
hadn't eaten, let alone caught, a lobster down here so we eagerly
agreed. No sooner had we left the anchorage did Brian catch up to us
on his dinghy to bring us ANOTHER lobster he had just caught minutes
after we left. What a guy! We enjoyed our first premium lobster dinner
that night! The tails were SO filling! We anchored at Hamlet Cay after
heading in from the rough ocean, the quickest route to G-Town. The
next day we took the ocean south with its massive waves heaving the
boat to, fro, and everywhere in-between.
We got to Georgetown and our first night there we got drunk, wandered
the streets, found a warehouse full of locals hanging out, played in a
drum circle with them, and had a political discussion with a
Rastafarian. In the next week we provisioned, got on the internet, I
jogged a few times, and we enjoyed a few beach parties complete with a
sing-alongs and dirty jokes told around a campfire. The following week
Burt and Phyllis visited, which was PHENOMENAL. What an extraordinary
week that was!!! Here's a rough sketch of what went down while they
were here:
Mon – 4-5 miler in the morning, walk to fish fry with Jack for lunch,
hitchhike to airport (got picked up three times), took Burt and Phyll
to the Rake n' Scrape at Eddie's Edgewater, heavy rain that night!!
Made it back to the boat to ensure its safety.
Tues – pull up to the dock for fuel, water, laundry, atm; mom's
bakery
(a local whom everyone refers to as "mom" who sells THE FRESHEST baked
goods out of her van), jack hearing Phyllis call over VHF over mom's
van; took Burt n' Phyll over to Hamburger Beach for snacks n'
cocktails via the boat, 40-50 people there, vote for group name (which
turned out to be AHOY – Alcohol, Hor'dourves, and Other Yummies),
campfire, songs, I played the ukulele and Jack sung Waltzing Matilda,
ride back to the Peace n' Plenty hotel, docked, spend the night J,
read a book outside when I couldn't sleep and a rat crept up nearly
onto my foot!
Wed – breakfast in the hotel room, ________?___________, sunset out
on
the boat, dinner at the hotel restaurant, started showing pictures
from our trip
Thurs – tour with Angela at 10 am, drove around Great Exuma Island,
Jack and I got a beer at Big D's Conch Bar where there was a beautiful
view into the sound and showed P&B conch shells, lunch at Cheater's,
beautiful view at the salt beacon, naps while I worked on music,
dinner at the hotel, showed more pictures at night
Fri – slept in till noon, lunch at the hotel restaurant,
______?______, cocktail party at hotel, mucho fun!
Sat – went out on the boat to scope out good snorkeling spots, 4:30
Angela's dinner party (spectacular food!), showed final pictures and
movies back at the hotel
Sun – snorkeling day! Perfect day, sunny, calm; breakfast at the
hotel
restaurant, brought the boat around, snorkeled the spot we scoped out,
Phyllis went in for a long time – sooo youthful and inspiring, went
into the crazy cut!!! Ruth – "this is intense" Phyllis – "this is
GREAT!" , P&B nap on the boat while J&R grab a burger and get them a
conch salad at Volleyball Beach, group of people on three-master that
helped at the dock and helped Burt when his leg gave him trouble,
showed pictures and movie clips from the past week back in the room.
Awoke at 4:45 to make flight!
ROKey Dokreee…Jack wrote about catching the Snapper, the terrifying
trip to the Jumentos, and our wonderful welcoming to Long
Island!….Therefore I think that does it for my update. I will
continue on as usual now. So long, and have a peaceful night tucked
under warm blankets.
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