Ruth's Grand Ol' Ye Olde Spanish Wells Entry

Thurs. April 10th
So we up and left Hatchet Bay for bigger and better things. The night
previous was spent devouring a luscious fried fish dinner with our new
friends from Cornwall, England, John and Christina. Jack and John
conversed while Chris and I chatted it up. The friendly couple's
children are grown and have children of their own, but despite our age
difference I can't remember the last time I connected so well with
strangers. We connected on almost all levels. It was a wonderful night
("absolutely lovely" in fact). We toasted to the fact that Chris had
never stepped foot into a McDonalds. We ate at an outdoor restaurant
and bar called The Spot. When we first walked up we realized this was
the restaurant managed by our new Bahamian friend, Robert! (Robert
gave us the lift to and from Governor's Harbor from Rainbow Beach
during a rainstorm). Robert gave us such a hearty greeting with huge
smiles and hugs that Chris and John wondered if we were old friends,
but in fact this was just the dude who hitched us a ride to the store
the other day. Somehow it felt (and apparently appeared) as though we
had known Robert for years! That's how easy it is to make friends down
here!
After awhile John and Chris headed back to their rental cottage, and
we stuck around, Jack continuing to play numerous games of Dominos
with the happy-go-lucky locals. We drank till our heart's (and
liver's) content, making it back to the boat just in time to pass out.
The following day's weather couldn't have been more perfect for
sailing! The winds were east/southeast and we needed to head northwest
to make it through what is called Current Cut before dark. Current Cut
is a cut between Eleuthra and Current Island in which the current is
amazingly powerful. Our plan was to completely sail the 21 miles to
get through the cut and anchor somewhere around the corner for the
night. The day after that, we would complete the trip to our ultimate
destination: Spanish Wells. All we heard of Spanish Wells was that it
was pretty populated and had almost anything you might need. We
figured we would rent some scuba gear and find out where the sunken
civil war train was! Despite our hangovers we set out for the trip
super excited!
We ran with the wind over sparkling waters. Blue sky, low billowing
clouds, the aroma of the sea, full puffed out sails. It was nice to be
solely sailing again without aid of the motor. The water was rolling
just enough to be pleasant, the sound of the wind was peaceful, the
tack – flawless. Jack dropped three baited lines in the water, one of
the lines strewn with ten different lures! He insisted we were BOUND
to catch something now, and I agreed. Unfortunately we were sailing
over the Sound where the depth was no greater than 30 feet and we
reached the cut without even a nibble at the lines. Jack napped during
most of the trip, then took over right before the cut while I read The
Lobster Chronicles by Linda Greenlaw, one of the captains of a
swordfish ship who survived the actual "Perfect Storm."
Before entering the cut, we unexpectedly bumped into some rocks on
the bottom. The boat was fine and we were able to free ourselves
quickly but we moved fast to keep the boat into the wind and pull down
the sails in order to gain some control over the current. I understand
how it would be easy to drive straight into the shallow water because
the glistening reflection of the sun settling in the west had fully
concealed its color. By looking behind us, we were able to find the
channel by simply observing the color difference that tells us bottom
depth. We headed out of the sandy brown into the deep blue, passing a
huge anchored fishing ship that was fascinating to behold.
The channel that runs through the cut is as much as seventeen meters
deep! The current moved us at an unreal rate of speed! We turned
around the corner and started heading north. Realizing that it was
only 5:30pm and there was a shipwreck only five miles away, we decided
we'd anchor near it and if it was half-submerged we'd snorkel it the
next day.
The wreck was beached, which washed away all possibilities of
snorkeling, but it was captivating! It was a long freighter,
stretching probably 250 feet, its name just barely readable due to the
rust and corrosion – it was called Bahama Provider. Since we still
had
some sunlight we dinghy'd over to explore it. As the sun sunk lower in
the sky, we climbed the rocks and rusted bits of ladder up to its
deck.
It was by far the best shipwreck we've explored! There was a large
hole on its deck that exposed the inside of the hull, where we stuck
our heads down and heard the extraordinary echo of the water splashing
against its side. We took turns whistling and bird-calling (cah-caww!)
into the gi- normous belly of the beast. At the back of the ship, just
below the platform of the deck and underneath the pilot house, were
pallets stacked rather neatly compared to the rest of the damage to
the ship. These extremely dry stacks of wood gave Jack a very good
idea – to have a fire that night…ON the deck of the shipwreck!
In order to reach the level of the pilot house, we had to climb over
the pallets and lift ourselves up using the rusty, broken up parts of
what used to be ladders. The interior of the pilot house was neat!
Many of the marine gadgets and controls were in decent shape. Jack
took a souvenir – a tab labeled "Shaft Dynamo" that was located under
some type of control. One wall, as well as the area underneath the
windows, was completed covered in meters, dials, switches, and other
sorts of controls. The fiberglass and the cardboard sheets of the
ceiling had all fallen down. The windows had been blown out but their
interiors were outlined by sharp, jagged pieces of glass. I took a few
pictures through the view of the windows so that the frame of the
picture would look serrated.
Behind the pilot house was a staircase leading to the cabins inside
its hull! We cautiously made out way down the tiny steps. The sun was
just high enough to provide enough light to explore for another half
an hour. The rooms consisted of a lounge area, kitchen, four bedrooms,
and three heads, one that included a shower. The portholes in the
bathrooms were beautifully cracked like spider webs and backlit by the
setting sun. Some portholes were completely blown out. The place was
in disarray and smelled musty and moldy. Wires and tubes dangled from
the ceiling. While carefully stepping into the further most cabin and
gently pushing hanging cables out of my way, I spotted a mouse that,
upon spotting me, scurried into the corner quicker than you could say
"If you give a mouse a…." And you best believe I was out of there
before you could say the word "cookie!" I finally mustered the courage
to go back in (with Jack as my shield of course), but as the light
faded we decided to make out way back upstairs.
We discussed our ideas on what might have happened to the ship. We
agreed it had been through a hurricane and Jack suggested it had been
anchored out somewhere and had been pushed in by the storm. (The
anchor chain was hanging out of the ship's side. It was the first cool
thing we noticed and took pictures of as we approached). Many items in
the freighter were mostly intact, which led us to suppose it must have
been wrecked in recent years. Jack guessed Hurricane Andrew in '92.
Sure enough throughout our exploring he came across an old shipping
manual that was dated 1992! Boo-ya.
Jack paddled back to the boat to grab a lighter while I pulled apart
the dead wood from the pallets, cleared an area on the least rusted
part deck, and stacked the boards in an orderly bonfire-ish fashion.
The bonfire was AMAZING! Just imagine: we had a fire on the huge,
expansive deck of a shipwrecked freighter! The stars were out. I saw
my friend Orion who I've seen almost nightly on this trip. Jack found
an old cooler and a tire for us to sit on. The only thing missing was
a bag of 'mallows. J poured a bit of motor oil on the wood to get it
ablazin'…and holy smokes was it a ablaze! It even sunk the steel
floor
of the deck inward! We sat there for hours just enjoying the setting
like crazy. The tall flames towered over me as I sat on the cooler.
These would have been some mighty burnt 'mallows. We sat upwind of the
fire of course, but still had to back away from the intense heat! It
took a long time for it to die, but once it did we re-stacked the wood
and relit it, we were enjoying ourselves so much! I eventually became
so relaxed that I nodded off leaning against my best friend. When I
sleepily came to, he asked me if I'd like to go back to the boat, but
I replied that I'd would rather stay for a bit more – the experience
was just so nice. I fell back asleep to the low, rumbling roar of the
flames.

Friday, April 11th
Friday the wind had died but we only had about five more miles to
make it to Spanish Wells so we motored. Jack drove while I, donned in
my wesuit and snorkeling gear, dragged behind the boat clinging to the
dinghy, just like Jack had done when looking to spear fish. There were
no fish to spear this time, and we knew this because of the texture of
the bottom. The bottom was all soft sand, no coral, no rock, hardly
any grass even, and only around 5 feet deep the whole way. I just
wanted to experience what it was like to be dragged around submersed
under water. One of the coolest things of the experience was floating
through the bubbles of the engine's propeller. It reminded me of when
I snorkeled above Jack while he scuba-dove a Blue Hole near Thompson
Bay at Long Island. At that time his air bubbles rose to the surface,
sparkling in the light of the sun, rolling upward, bubbling and
bursting in my face, overwhelming my entire view. It was sweet.
Another cool thing about dragging behind the boat was that I saw
around ten huge starfish, thick and bloated, intricately designed, and
vividly colored bright and dark oranges and yellows. Each starfish was
similar in design yet at closer looks were intricately different in
amazing detail! Kind of like the snowflake effect.
We anchored in a channel behind a bunch of moored boats once we
arrived in Spanish Wells. At that time it was after five o'clock,
therefore everything on the island was closed even though it was a
Friday night. We were lucky enough to come across an open restaurant.
I ordered a "Blizzard" (imagine my fingers making quotes). Although I
was grateful for the treat, I think it's funny that their idea of a
"Blizzard" was melting some ice cream in a microwave and throwing in a
Snickers Bar broken in half. Hahaha. Toto, we're not in Dairy Queen
any more.
We spent the evening walking around the island and gawking at its
immaculateness. I mean, the town was pristine as a green bean (if you
know what I mean). Jack kept calling it Stepford and I was in total
and utter agreement. It was to the point of creepiness. Sheer
creepiness. I joked of becoming his "Stepford wife" but in this case I
would develop a Bahamian/British accent, gain 100 lbs, and acquire a
rude demeanor. The white settlers were not Bahamian in the "Bahamian"
sense – they were strictly of British descent rather than
slaves-of-the-British-descent like most of the Bahamian population.
Their accents were mostly British with a slight Bahamian twist. They
weren't very friendly – okay, they weren't friendly at all. They
were
all clearly very rich – which isn't a bad quality on its own – but
most everyone was terribly impolite and unfriendly. On the other hand,
the black settlers were their usual out-of-the-way helpful and
friendly selves. Just goes to show attitude is a cultural thing.
Although the vibe wasn't so great on ol' Spanish Smells, we stuck
around another day so that we could rent dive gear from the dive shop
with the aim of diving the underwater train wreck that was located
somewhere on the reefs off of what is called The Devil's Backbone, an
intense and dangerous set of reefs and coral rock on the north side of
Eleuthra that most boaters don't attempt to navigate without a
professional pilot to guide them. Of course, we had all the confidence
that we could tackle the treacherous track ourselves. The wreck is a
Civil War train that was supposedly captured by the South. We inquired
about it to random people and most people had no idea it existed. One
fellow sailor named John had seen it before and said it consisted of
some carriage wheels and broken up cargo cars. It sounded titillating
and we were looking forward to scuba diving it!
That night I looked over the chart and mapped out a four mile path
that I could run the next day.

Saturday, April 12th

This morning at around 8am I ran the 4 –miler I had planned the night
before. The course was this: I ran the length of Spanish Wells on its
main street all the way to its western point, ran along the beach on
its west coast, crossed the bridge leading south to Russell Island,
then turned around and ran back along the southern coast of Spanish
Wells, along the harbor where all the fishing boats were either docked
or being worked on. On all my runs in the Bahamas, I've exchanged a
friendly wave or "good-morning" with every car or person I passed.
Today, however, was a bit different. As usual, every black Bahamian I
waved to returned the greeting with a welcoming smile, yet every white
Bahamian or tourist just stared blankly at me or, after making obvious
eye contact, turned away! The hostility caught me off guard! I added
it to the list of reasons why Spanish Wells was my least favorite spot
in the Bahamas.
On a positive note, the road that ran along the harbor was an amazing
sight! It seemed like I was running through a movie set! These huge
fishing boats sat docked or were lifted onto land via gigantic boat
ramps so they could be worked on. The scene had a magical feel to it
–
everyone worked harmoniously on the boats, painting or applying
fiberglass, grinding or sanding, carrying tools or fish or ice. I
actually witnessed someone grab large bags of salt out of his truck,
toss it to another man conveyor-belt style, who then turned and tossed
it rhythmically to yet another guy who dropped the bag inside a
seafood shop. I was just waiting for everyone to burst extravagantly
into song like some musical about life as a fisherman. The teamwork
was inspiring. It really put a spring in my step.
And get this: the previous day when Jack and I were walking around the
island, we came upon a sort of art project made up of sea and boat
paraphernalia. Among the random collection were two pure-white crab
skeletons with almost every part of the shell intact. I was in awe
that almost the entire body of a crab could be found and preserved! I
mean, how does the complete crab shell wash up on the beach without
falling apart or being eaten on the way? THEN just as I finished my
run and was about to get into the dinghy, I noticed the body of a dead
crab on the beach!!! This crab was fresh out of the water – its smell
and color indicated a recent death. Its body was in one piece,
completely undamaged! It lay there, its oversized right claw calling
out to me! Just like that - I had stumbled upon my own Crab
Skeleton!!! (As of this moment, I had let it dry out in the sun for a
week and just recently packed it into an airtight container with salt
to take back with me. I can't wait until it turns all bony white!
What a souvenir!)
When I got back to the boat I placed it in Jack's crab trap with a
post-it note in its claw saying "Love you, Jack" (aww, how sweet…) I
pointed it out by pretending to gasp in surprise and saying "Look, you
caught a crab!" Haha, good fun.
That morning we visited a seafood shop and bought two Lobster tails
and two huge Grouper fillets! Visiting the dive shop turned out to be
a big disappointment because we discovered they did not have any dive
gear for rent nor did they refill tanks. They hadn't even heard of the
train wreck. But all was good. We were pointed in the direction of a
local who may know where it was located, and we decided after finding
the location we would snorkel it instead. Then Jack called Jonathan,
the real estate agent who is helping us negotiate the sale on the
property at Rainbow Beach. (As of now, we have called Jonathan on and
off for a week and the sale looks hopeful but we will not be able to
work out any details until we return to the states).
Back at the boat we dined on grilled chicken, plantains, rice, and
veggie salad. Jack made milk thistle tea, which was spectacular. I
finished reading a book called "Designing Your House on an Island." We
got kicked out of our anchorage by some (white) locals who didn't like
where we were. Spanish Wells is the most inhospitable place in the
Bahamas I've concluded.
So we moved a ways east to a public mooring ball, right around the
corner from the start of the Devil's Backbone. Before settling in, we
drove around the point and checked out a bit of the 'Bone. The wind
was coming from the south and we heard it would continue to throughout
the following day, which means the Dev's B-bone would be calm and
easier to navigate. Perfect timing. We moored. A boater named John
drove up on his dinghy and introduced himself. Turns out he snorkeled
the train wreck before so he was able to tell us more or less where it
was located! We planned on snorkeling the wreck the next day at low
tide. We were told it was located in about 15 feet o' water, which is
perfect for viewing and free diving! Before moving to our new
anchorage we got a weather report from a nearby boater (who happened
to be from Michigan) and he informed us of an approaching front that
would hit Sunday night and carry on through Wednesday. With this
information we decided that after snorkeling on Sunday, we would move
to Harbor Island to anchor during the front. Harbor Island is located
on a bay that would provide all-around protection for us during the
storm. I was very excited to check out this wreck! Couldn't wait!!!!

SUNDAY, April 13th

Lucky 13, eh?
Well, we had a very successful time navigating the Devil's Backbone
but an unlucky time finding the wreck. Thankfully, Jack made waypoints
on the GPS the night before, some of which were provided for us via
the ever-helpful Explorer Charts. The waypoints led us through a
twisting path between all the hazardous reefs of the B-Bone. Jack
drove while I stood on deck looking out for sharp, protruding coral or
dark patches of rock just beneath the surface. We left at around 11 in
the morning, a short time after low tide. The wind was blowing from
the south (the Backbone is on the north side of Eleuthra) and the sun
was shining bright, which meant that visual piloting would be easy.
The route took us all over the place – far out to sea as well as
immediately off of shore; we moved through wide passages and squeezed
through narrow channels.
All in all, we dropped anchor three times among the perilous reefs,
using the tips we received yesterday to look for signs of the wreck.
Unfortunately I accidentally created a faulty waypoint for the wreck,
which is why we had to move the first time. The next two times we
dropped anchor, we had some help from John (the fellow sailor we had
met yesterday), who came whipping by on his mini-catamaran, hoping to
join us in our pursuit. But the waypoint he had for the wreck was
ridiculously way off the charts. While we sat anchored, he let the
wind push him far out among the reefs, spinning quickly back and forth
looking for the wreck but was unable to locate it. He eventually gave
up and left us.
The wind was fairly strong at this point and we could really feel it
where we were out among the reefs. Some of the swells rolled six feet
high and a lot of the waves were breaking over the reefs. Determined,
we suited up and grabbed the GPS, grapnel anchor, and underwater
camera. We cautiously got into the dinghy. I rowed out a small ways –
it was "a breeze" when going with the wind, but trying to row against
it was questionable so I tested how hard it would be to get back to
the boat. It wasn't bad. Then Jack did the same because he wanted to
see for himself how difficult it would be to get back. It was apparent
we were both pretty nervous about the situation. We knew we'd have to
row quite a ways out among the breakers in order to even find this
thing. Jack began to row. We looked at each other. One of us said, "Do
you really want to do this?" With the hefty wind, the rolling,
breaking waves, and our tiny inflatable boat that was slowly losing
air in one section, it didn't take any discussion to agree on turning
around. Despite our prior excitement, this just wasn't worth trying to
find.
I was somewhat disappointed but much more relieved to be back in the
boat, avoiding the risk of being blown out to sea. We packed up and
navigated the rest of the Backbone until we made it to Harbor Island.
Driving across the bay was gorgeous! The colors of the water were
spectacular! Due to the frequently changing depth, the colors ranged
from clear aqua blue to deep navy and were laid out in a striped
pattern. The clouds were also gorgeous – full and bulging
indescribable patterns.
The marinas at Harbor Island were predictably too expensive for us,
and the anchorages were overcrowded with empty fishing boats. We
dropped and pulled anchor four times before finally finding a spot far
from shore in the crowded bay. Every time we dropped anchor in the
Devil's Backbone, I had to let out plenty of scope due to the depth,
the waves, and the wind. Therefore I had to haul approximately 120
feet of line against the force of the wind each time we moved. After
doing this a few times and then having to do it again and again at
Harbor Island, my arms had gotten so sore I had to ask Jack to pull up
the anchor the last time. We settled in, drank a couple beers, and my
soreness magically vanished…
I made a hearty meal of chicken parmesan and buttered brocolli for
lunch. Johnny took a nap and I mixed a bit of music for a couple hours
on my computer. We concluded the day in the company of our ol' buddy
Clint Eastwood by means of watching "High Plains Drifter" on Jack's
laptop. The anchorage was calm. The night – smooth and relaxing. The
wind gusted like crazy for a short while in middle of night startling
us awake with its howl. There was a bit of slight rain, but it passed
quickly, giving us only a small taste of the cold front to come…

MONDAY, April 14th

I awoke to a beautiful, sunny morning. The cold front had not yet
arrived and the bay was as peaceful as a sleeping monkey. I took the
opportunity to dinghy the unusual long way into shore and run around
the island. I jogged two hilly miles on a soft sandy road, conquering
two challengingly steep hills along the way. Everyone I saw and
greeted were majorly friendly, although the tourists were not so much.
Some of them gave me odd looks and blank stares when I said "hello."
It struck me as so bizarre! Why are some people afraid of saying
"hello"??
I'll tell you who isn't afraid – the roosters! Not that they say
"hello" to me (or I to them for that matter) but there are so many of
them waddling around and they are so used to being around people that
there were a few times when I almost stepped on them as they crossed
the street! It got to the point where I had to increase my pace when I
saw one in the road just to startle them a bit so they'd get out of
the way!
As usual it was a great run and I was feeling good. I paddled back to
boat, put on a bathing suit and slathered on mucho sunscreen. We had
Lobster tails for breakfast dipped in hot butter. It was served with a
side of rice and veggies (red onion, green pepper, carrots, cucumber,
tomatoes, and broccoli). We topped it off with slices of whole wheat
fresh homemade Bahamian bread dipped in the hot butter. I found a jug
of apple juice in our storage cooler. Cha-ching! What an amazing
breakfast!!! We are sooo lucky! What could be better?
After cleaning up, I packed our snorkel gear and a couple of books,
then set into town with J. Our plan: to hang out at the pink sand
beach on the ocean side of the island. J bought a beer and I downed a
Red Bull. What could be better?
We strolled around for an hour or so, analyzing the Harbor Island
scene. It's a very pretty island and built up in terms of housing,
stores, and resorts. However, there is not a payphone that works. We
were in search of one in order to contact Jonathan, the real estate
agent. We stepped into a grocery store to ask if we could use theirs,
when we unexpectedly ran into Jamal, a guy we met while driving around
Whale Point when we rented the car a couple weeks ago. We chatted for
a bit and he let Jack use his cell phone. It was good to see a
familiar face, even in a town of friendly people who all act like
they're your best friend anyway…
On the way to the ocean we passed a shop called "Cash's Liquor Store"
which made us miss our doggies! We can't wait to see them!!! We also
saw a dead rooster in the middle of the road, which still didn't
answer the age-old question of why it was trying to cross… We
unfortunately didn't have the camera on us (it would have made for a
humorous blog picture caption). We eventually made it to the beach,
passing the stall of horsies on our way down to the ocean where I had
the Best Swim Ever! The ocean was SO CALM since wind was still coming
from the southwest and the ocean is on east side. There was one big
breaking wave constantly curling toward shore that was SO FORCEFUL and
a ton of fun to ride! It carried my body swiftly into shore with an
alarmingly strong force! The water was SO WARM and the pinkish sand
super soft like flour! We donned our snorkel gear to see what we could
see. We swam a few hundred feet out. Although the water was probably
30 feet deep it was still crystal clear! The bottom consisted of
rippling lines of soft sand. We only saw one small silvery fish and
the stump of an old tree, yet it was still an amazing experience
swirling around in the expansive sea, feeling swallowed by its its
vastness, feeling so spacious and free! We eventually headed back
towards shore, free diving and swimming along the bottom. What a
thrill! I really, really enjoyed swimming along the ocean floor! Being
so close to the bottom, it felt like I was moving so fast! I felt like
I was a part of the ocean! I felt like a fish! I LOVED IT!
After awhile we took our gear off, set it on the beach, and went back
in to swim around. Jack eventually got out for good while I stayed in
– I couldn't get enough! I swam and dove down with my eyes closed
(because I wear contacts). I was in love with the scene – immersed in
the BEAUTFUL warm colors of ocean, blanketed with puffy white clouds
among a profoundly blue sky, hugged by the pinkish-white beach. The
water was so clear, so warm, so salty. What could be better???
I daydreamed of bringing my family to this beach if Jack and I ever
bought that lot. They would love the sand – it is SO SOFT and
powdery, like FLOUR on my feet. Yum yum! I dried off in the sun on a
hotel beach chair while reading Treasure Island. Jack and I started
going back and forth dishing out ideas for our possible future
vacation home. We had so much fun sketching out our plans on the back
page of the Design Your Island Home book. What a perfect day. I just
had such a spectacular time snorkeling and swimming around in the
wonderful, beautiful, strong ocean today. Unbelievable. I Love Jack.
On our way back to the dinghy, I asked a Bahamian where we could find
a public water spigot and his response was so friendly! He was not
only eager to tell us where to find the water, but insisted on taking
the time to lead us right to it! That's just how people are down here
– always ready to act on your behalf, always hospitable, always
making
sure you get what you need.
We dinghy'd back to boat. We changed out of our wet clothes. I put on
a cute yellow dress that Johnny bought me while we were in Governor's
Harbor. J Jack adjusted the bridle and the solar panels and examined
the oudoor speakers to see what could be done to fix them. It looked
like they were shot and will need to be replaced once we're back in
the states. He then replaced the Quick Connects on the battery tester
wires. As Jack ran around the boat making other such adjustments and
improvements, I prepared a Grouper meal. We sat down and enjoyed
grilled Grouper fillets topped with sautéed onions and garlic in a
gravy sauce, and a side of fried potatoes with seasoning. We ate as
the sun set beautifully. What could be better than this?
I remember we drank A TON of water with dinner to make up for our
lacking it all day. Poor Jack, it doesn't seem to matter how much
water he drinks, he is constantly dehydrated. He recently recalled
having a problem with his skin when he was younger that correlates
being dehydrated with his skin becoming extremely dry and therefore
itchy. A couple of weeks ago he read in a medical book at the library
that mercury poisoning can cause skin irritation and dryness, as well
as increased symptoms of asthma (which had started becoming more of a
problem for him right before these skin problems started). The medical
text even described the skin problem that mercury poisoning can cause
as "chronic urticaria" which is what the allergists and dermatologists
in Nassau concluded Jack had. His fillings are made with mercury and
apparently he has quite a few of them. We are so desperate to learn
what is going on with him, he is going to have his blood tested when
we get back to the U.S.
After we ate, I worked on updating my blog. I was super exhausted in a
relaxing sense from all the running, walking, and swimming we had done
that day. Exhausted yet feeling GREAT. Nothing like concluding the day
with a handful of creamy cookies while watching The Simpsons. Now tell
me, what could be better???? I love everyone. Goodnight.






Sunday April. 21st…
I have much more blogging to catch up on, but as of now (Monday, April
21st) I want to let everyone know we are on our way home. Friday we
sailed from Harbor Island to Nassau. Today we're going to sail 50
miles from Nassau to the Berry Islands (most likely we'll end up
slightly north of Great Harbor where we will plunder a shipwreck for a
toilet – Jack is buying a hacksaw this morning to do the job). The
trip should take around seven or eight hours. From there we'll anchor
for the night then sail 82 miles to Bimini where we will wait for a
good weather window to cross the Gulf Stream. Depending on how long
that takes we will either land in Florida or keep sailing along the
southern coast to New Orleans.
Just last night we met a professional yachtsman named John at the
marina who informed us of a waterway that flows through the middle of
Florida, which would shave an insane amount of miles off of our trip!
He is letting us make copies of some of his chart pages this morning.
We also have a number of older charts outlining the southern coast
that a couple we met at Warderick Wells, Steve and Kate, gave to us in
Georgetown. Those charts go into detail concerning the waterways
inside the coast as well. We could conceivably stay within the states
as we make our way west to New Orleans. Time will tell!
Once at Bimini, I will be sure to post the events that occurred from
April 15th onward. Some of what took place is pretty exciting!! Love
to the world, yes even you!

video for you

www.youtube.com/v/C03PfMTWzfc
click the link above.

misc old photos

These giant lobsters are a menace. See other lobster photo below.



Sleeping guy



view from fernandez bay, Cat Island



blooming ponciana



firecracker plant

miracle apparitions of the virgin Mary and others

we beheld this miracle of the virgin Mary's face in this tree



And Saint Sebastian



This is that guy from the Police Academy movies



the bench and sign to the hermitage. Hand made stone bench-super cool.



By Daniel Johnson. This photo is for the Coop

Old photos of Ruth's back

This is a tree they call the "tourist tree" because it looks like the skin of a tourist after a sunburn



Here's another one of that same tree



This is a picture of Ruth's injuries before.



Just kidding. She is doing so much better- wait'll you see her. She looks like a million bucks.

Calling Phyllis

calling Phyllis



Ruth's getup after her burns.



This is the treasure chest at the resort at Cat Island. Ferndandez Bay, to be exact. Ruth saw the pretzels and missed the treasure chest. Poor hungry girl.



cool leaf, purple on one side, gree on t' other



cool flower

Beloved Father Jerome

The land outside father Jerome's, burnt to cinders during his "Reign of Blood," as his scorched earth campaign was known. But it was not enough for Father Jerome. He had emerged against impossible odds, vanquished all of his adversaries, and seized victory from the jaws of defeat, but still he pressed on, crushing, murdering, destroying, looting, pillaging. Like Sherman ravaging Savannah, he burned everything in his path, leaving even the very rock, formed from volcanic eruption withered and burnt. His fury had no boundary, his wrath no horizon. It was not enough, never enough, for Father Jerome.



Someone trying to blind us on the way back from FJ's clearing the land with a controlled burn

old pics from Beloved Father Jerome's crib

can you guess my nationality?




Father Jerome's happy-go-lucky message



cool plant growing on FJ's house






actual size

place overgrown and filled with bottles and a cactus

these were actually laying in the debris like this



this building was FILLED with bottles. I wrote about it in another blog



I call this "doomed to failure." Just kidding it was beautiful.



overgrown foundation at Der Bottle Haus

here's photos I couldn't put up before, these and the ones above...

armbuster house



the great house ruins



me and my boy ponciana



this here's the green room. haw haw.

Nassau, time to split!

before



after



long island anchorage



this is the nest of some kind of wren or something at Hawk's Nest. I might have mentioned that already.



Where John and Laura Lee put us up. Super cool people. We hope to catch them when we drive through Alabama.



NASSAU, NEW PROVIDENCE, BAHAMAS, April 20, 2008
Dude, it’s like, April 20th. You know, like 4-20 dude. Get it? I heard some hippies saying that. I think that must mean Hitler’s birthday or something, or Jerry Garcia. I always get them mixed up. Anyway, how’s it going?




Long silence.




Well, I’ll tell you how it’s going for me then. It sucks that I can’t hear you telling me how it’s going, that’s how. I miss you all. A bunch of stuff has happened, but I don’t feel like writing anymore. I mostly just feel like driving the boat HOME, so I’ll just give you a list, and then I’ll try to post some photos.

Let’s see. We went diving a bit. Got chased out of the water by barracudas.
Tried to fish in our crossing to Nassau, had our 80 lb. test line broken by a fish, who ran off with all of our lures.
We had a crazy windstorm hit us when the last front came through while we were in Harbor Island. It was total calm, then a wall of wind hit us- like 30 mph or something. It was 3 or 4 in the morning. I got up, and I said “what the hell,” and lowered the engine into the water, just in case. As I did that, our anchor pulled free and we started blowing across the bay toward the rocks and a lot of boats. That was intense. Then we snagged another boat’s anchor line while dragging, and banged into it a bit.
We put in our tillerpilot, which was waiting for us here in Nassau with our buddy Peter. We were glad to see him, he’s a good egg. The Greek guy I’ve written about. He owns the marina. He’s the one whose mother left Armenia with all of her gold buried, and a few pieces sewn in her dress and came to the U.S. Really cool story.
We were hoping to see our friend Demetrius while here, but that’s not looking likely. Nor going up to the Berry Islands to snatch that toilet out of the shipwreck off of Great Harbor. I thought that would be sweet, to have a working toilet from a shipwreck up at Torch Lake. Oh well. The dogs are calling us home.
Been listening to the debates. Ever get the feeling the people that own the media outlets (and coincidentally, many other huge corporations- but hey- no conflict of interest there…) want Hillary Clinton to be the democratic candidate? I assume since she is so much more beatable than Barack Obama. But anyway, the first FORTY FIVE MINUTES of the debate was grilling him about things that OTHER PEOPLE said or did, that they somehow implied he should answer for. Yet, Whitewater, the murder of Vince Foster, etc. never come up for her in the debate. When George Bush invades the wrong country TWICE, and makes a big joke saying “where are the weapons of mass destruction? None under here… Maybe under here?” and on and on, laughing, looking under tables, etc. Or claims he invented the words “misunderstanding,” and “hispanically,” the media SOMEHOW don’t even notice. Bill Clinton and Monica Lewinsky were in the news for a couple YEARS over NOTHING. God help Barack Obama, an honest man in nest of scoundrels, toadies, and snakes. He’s getting skewered for things he had nothing to do with. Imagine if he had actually done anything wrong, ever, that anyone could point to. God help him. Shit, God help him anyway.
Ruth and I are getting ready to jet. We’re hoping to take the next weather window to Bimini tomorrow morning. The following day, we hope to cross the gulf to Florida. If we don’t appear, it doesn’t mean we died trying, just so you know. It means we had crap weather and decided to stay back.
I don’t have much news really. I’m just going to try to post photos.
Okey doke. XOX y’all.

More bloggywogs for your eggy-eyes-april 14 2008

gauge label I grabbed from the shipwreck "Provider"



Sunset, duh!



It really is that color







Detail of the parrotfish I shot


MONDAY, APRIL 14 2008 by Greasy Grampy HARBOR ISLAND
Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you about the shipwreck on the way to Spanish Wells where we stopped and had a bonfire on the deck after we explored the inside. We did that. Then we went to Stepford Wells, as I mentioned already.
We really came all the way here so that we could rent Scuba Gear at Spanish Wells, and then scuba this train wreck that’s off of the reefs on the north side of the island. Yeah, I said “train.” Apparently, it was a Union train captured by the Confederacy, then sold to Cuba, and it fell off a barge on the way there. If you happen to look at a map, you’ll see that this is a bit off the route to Cuba, but hey, when you’re diving train wrecks, you stop questioning things. In any event, we heard there isn’t much there, just the wheels and carriages, but we still couldn’t find it, and neither could this local cat who we teamed up with who had a GPS waypoint for it. It didn’t help him that his waypoint was 20 minutes north and 14 minutes west of where he said it was (about the same as miles), but he tried valiantly, nonetheless. Since it was in the middle of the area called “the Devil’s Backbone,” for good reason, we pressed on after looking a bit.
Since we’re waiting out the latest cold front, we figured we might as well do it at Harbor Island, so here we are. Home of the $20 hamburger. We had a good swim in the ocean, but pretty much have been having a tame time. Cooking food, listening to XM, having dreams about the dogs.
Man, I’ll say it. I’m HOMESICK. I’m really enjoying this and all, but I’m really excited to get home and see everyone. My pore ol’ mudder wants to have a party for us at Burt’s house when we get back. So, you’re all invited. If you don’t want to travel and you’re far away, maybe we can have another party at your house the next week? Whaddya think?
Okay, I’ll bust outta here, since I don’t have much to say.

Take it easy.
Jack

P.S. Pinder

this be the view at Rainbow Bay

This is the view from the lot Ruth and I will be buying, hopefully.

One looking left, and one looking right. You can see a tiny bit of the ocean on the other side of the island if you face the opposite way, but it's not much. It's about a quarter mile across the island to the beach there.

You BETTER come hang out there if we build a spot on it!

spanish wells people are nuts

this picture was funny because the "mouse" on the computer is a real mouse.



We took this picture of Ruth because Ruth is one of three sisters. I suggested that we find a local black guy to make it "three sisters and a brother" since Ruth has a brother, but Spanish Wells is the one island in a practically all black country with no black people. I don't think the guy wearing a hat with the Confederate Flag there was a coincidence. WhatEVER, man.



tree that was cool



the Bahamas is crazy. EVerything is backward here. Here the klan burns the crosses on their OWN front lawns.



There's that tree again