Blog 10 Cat Island

Blog 10 – Cat Island, Little San Salvador and Eleuthera

Derek relaxing at Hawks Nest Resort

Entering Hawk’s Nest Creek for the first time had us slightly nervous. Our depth sounder has been misbehaving lately and the channel markers were not where our plotter indicated the channel to be. 

We idled into the creek and tied-up at the fuel dock exchanging pleasantries with Gerry, the attendant. I topped-off our tank and the reserve fuel jug, while Sue went off to find a WiFi password. We left the creek and met Now Or Never, dropping anchor in front of the resort.

Our departure from Emerald Bay Marina on Great Exuma Island at dawn  gave us the whole day to cross to Cat Island.

Two days later we were on the hook, still looking at Hawk’s Nest Resort, where we decided to tie-up because of the deteriorating forecast. 

The unfavourable forecast which sent the three of us into the marina failed to bring bad weather. We lunched with the owners, swam in the pool and walked the beaches. Most importantly we rented a van, with which we travelled most of the island, taking in many of the sights.

We left the Resort access road at a mere 25 miles per hour. The road was a mess of swoops and potholes. Fortunately the roads improved somewhat, and before long we had arrived on the south end of the island.

Church at Devil's Point

We read information from brochures and cruising guides to each-other as we travelled, taking turns as the tour guide. It was revealed that the island is named, not after any feline shape, but for Arthur Cat, an English pirate who used the island as his base.

The road led us to our first stop on the lawn of a church  with the ironic name: the Christian Church of Devil’s Point. 

Remains of the Masonic Lodge

At our next stop we inspected the ruin of the Deveaux plantation house. Colonel Andrew Deveaux was a Loyalist expatriot from South Carolina, who successfully drove a Spanish occupying force from the Bahamas. Many Loyalist families repatriated to the Bahamas from Florida after the Treaty of Versailles caused the return of Florida to Spain. For a few years the Loyalist plantations flourished. By the year 1800, they had used up the soil nutrients and suffered devastating crop failures due to insects. The remains of Deveaux’s plantation house still stand after all these years.

Nearby, the remains of a Masonic Hall erected only 37 years ago appear not so different from the older structure.

   One of our cruising guides alluded to pink coral beaches and so, we made our way to Greenwood Resort, located on the east side of the island. I failed to perceive much ‘pinkness’ but the sandy stretches of beach were stunningLunch was available for drop-ins, and we had a great chat with the owner and his son’s friend, both from Berlin. If Cat Island can be described as off the beaten path, then one can describe Greenwood Resort as the remotest tourism destination on that island. In a word it is a ‘getaway’.

After lunch we backtracked to Baintown and the Deep South, where I took photos of the ruins of Anglican churches erected by John Cecil Hawes, an architect-turned-Anglican priest, who was sent to Long Island by church administrators to rebuild seven churches which had been ravaged by hurricanes. After a sabbatical, Hawes arrived back in the Bahamas in 1937 as a Roman Catholic priest now known as Father Jerome. After rebuilding the St Augustine monastery in Nassau and building more churches throughout the Bahamas, he built his retirement home on Cat Island at Comer Hill, the highest point in the Bahamas. We just HAD to go there! We entered through a stone arch at the base of the hill and saw lizards and snakes as we climbed past the stations of the cross to his Hermitage. The rooms are Spartan and very small in scale. 
His last construction project was the holy redeemer church at New Bight, no longer in use but recently restored and cleaned by islanders.

As we drove northward we inspected several small harbours as prospective hideouts from bad weather. One which looked like ideal protection from west winds was Bennet Harbour. It met all requirements until we looked behind us into the mangroves along the eastern shore of the ‘sheltered’ creek. A 35 foot sloop, still in full rig, was sitting atop the mangroves, her anchor line still leading beneath the surface to deep water. 

sloop in the mangroves at Bennet Harbour

We surmised that there is a really bad ‘surge’ problem here, because the only direct wind into the anchorage is from the NNW, and this alone should not blow any boat due eastward, where the mangroves are, much less place the boat atop them. 

At Knowles we found the only bank on the island and had ‘limited’ success in using the ATM in its lobby. Whew!

We returned to Hawk’s Nest marina and checked out the next day – suffering a 15% charge for using the credit card!!!!  Grrrrr!!!!  Perhaps ‘Vultures Nest’ would be a more appropriate name! We made our way northward, past the Bight to return to Knowles. Now Or Never went to the Bight while both Tekla Bramble and ourselves needed to return to the bank to greet a real teller. After some serious grocery shopping at the very well-stocked store which adjoins the bank we returned aboard to plan the next leg of our trip.

We set our sights on Pigeon Cay. It might better be described as a peninsula, rather than a Cay. The beach is beautiful and the anchorage secure.

During the motor-sail northward to Pigeon Cay we developed a serious engine problem which forced us to complete the trip under sail alone. Susan called out that the cabin was filling with smoke. Quickly shutting the engine down, I was preparing to trade places with her so that I could fight a fire, when she called out an all-clear. She had taken a peek into the engine space and advised that there were no flames and that the smoke was more like steam – having a white colour and no particular smell.

Perry ( Tekla Bramble )and I spent the next morning investigating possible causes for what was clearly a lot of crankcase pressure. It had blown the dipstick out of the engine and blown about a quart of oil all over the engine compartment. I was still contemplating a possible cause a week later as I sat at anchor in Rock Sound, Eleuthera. Our sailing skills and our rigging were tested fully to get there. The sail from Cat Island had been brisk.

Tekla Bramble goosewinged

We arrived at Little San Salvador Island from Cat Island in mid-afternoon and joined Perry and Irene aboard Tekla Bramble to watch as cruise passengers from the Carnival Pride rode horses in the water at the beach.

horses on the beach

We have been told by others that they found the island, also known by the name ‘Half-Moon Cay’ by the cruise ship industry, as the prettiest of all of the Bahama Islands. However, after a near sleepless night of rolling from side-to-side in our bunk while at anchor, we were ready to leave ASAP. As the sun came up we left under full main and reefed genoa, for the 42 naut trip to Rock Sound. The winds were ‘brisk’ and the substantial swell caused us to sail somewhat away from our destination for one part of the trip. Even so we were at the mouth of Davis Channel outside Rock Sound after only 6 hours. This was a ‘sleigh ride’.

We had planned to use the engine to negotiate the final 10 miles. Alas. There was no cooperation from the engine and so we tacked our way to the anchorage.

rock sound harbour

“Panacea, Panacea, Panacea – this is Tekla Bramble“ came the welcome radio call on channel 68 as we anchored astern of them. What followed was an invitation to dinner. We had been contemplating simply dropping into bed with couple of fig-newton bars, we were so tired.

With renewed vigour we flaked and gasketed the mainsail, launched the dinghy and installed the outboard and its fuel tank. Susan threw together some food and nimbly contributions. Of course we also brought along some of the ‘demon rum’ and... into the dinghy we jumped. A pleasant hour or two later, we dropped into our bunk. The boat was NOT rolling us from one side of the bed to the other as it had done last night. It was as if we were on a concrete foundation, we were so stable.

But tonight we were in for something just a little different.

The music began and ramped-up swiftly to a roar. In ignorance we had anchored directly in front of the main concourse for the community Easter Homecoming celebration.  And the music was LOUD! And some of the music was not very ’tuneful’ either. It seems to be a blend of reggae and rap. It kept us awake for at least a minute, and perhaps even two minutes.

And we slept-in the next morning too!

After performing a few of the ‘daily’ boat repairs, we picked-up Perry and Irene and went ashore to explore the community. We were all hungry, so our first mission was to find Sammy’s Place, a restaurant reputed to have good food and reasonable prices. The lunch was leisurely. We were ravenous and so would have enjoyed a less leisurely dining experience, had it been up to us. When it did arrive, the Breakfast Club sandwich was excellent. The rest of the day disappeared with grocery shopping, boat repairs and as the sun dipped, to hanging out with fellow cruisers at the homecoming celebrations. The four of us spent the social hour with couples from Maine, Halifax, LeHavre (NS) and from Biaritz, France.

As we sat near the shore telling tales - a guy started cracking conch on the rocks nearby and I idly comment to Perry that I had been told that the ‘trimmings’ from conch cracking is said to make great fish bait. The guy overhead me and offered me all of the trimmings that I might care to take. I shared a beer with ‘Conch Albert’ AKA ‘Anthony and gave him a $ tip. I remembered the conch trimmings 14 hours later, at least 2 lbs of it, in a plastic bag still in the tender (we slept-in again – it must be the frantic pace). We have bait for the rest of the trip now, ziplok’d and stowed in the freezer. But Whew!...the tender needed a good wash!

Another day passes with some touristy behavior. We visited the ‘Ocean Hole’ and watched a church youth group diving in wearing bright green life vests. While eating ice cream we wandered aimlessly along side-streets until we came to a small bar/grocery with a cat laying in the entry. We entered and were greeted by an old man who exchanged a friendly grip with me and asked how he could serve us. Wiltshire Edwards went out of his way to make us feel welcome, serving us cool drinks. As he slowly shuffled around the place he repeatedly apologised for not ‘being ready’ for us.

Moving on we drifted through the back streets of Rock Harbour, which holds the distinction of being Eleuthra’s largest community.  

entrance to wild orchid

Again being somewhat thirsty, we decided to ‘scope-out’ the Wild Orchid, a classy restaurant with its own dock and dockside bar. We lingered there before walking in the direction of our tender, stopping at a craft store. I noticed a biographical sketch of a lady named Bourne on one of the shelves. On enquiring, I was told that the lady is the aunt of our salesperson, and that the lady is away with her husband, who is teaching school on an Indian Reserve in Alberta.

We returned to Tekla Bramble where we enjoyed a great dinner prepared by Irene (with Sailor Sue’s contributions). After a movie which the magic of Robin Williams could not SAVE (‘Nine Months’ _ Meh!), Sue and I learned a new card game. ‘Blackout’ has some – but not all - of the bidding process of bridge. We played hand after hand and staggered off to bed well after midnight. Our latest by far!

Despite the late night, I was still able to muster Sailor Sue on the foredeck at noon to re-splice the main anchor cable. Such a pair of silly sailors we are too! The 20 knot winds arriving from the East gave the splice a solid test. Merit badges for the whole crew! The rest of the day passed with Sue cleaning the interior while I read Nigel Calder’s thoughts on everything from marine refrigeration, to rigging, to our latest concern – namely excessive crankcase pressure. The book had a few insights. We’ll see if any lead to a solution.

Easter Sunday and we are still anchored in Rock Sound. In the ten days since we left Great Exuma we have put on some miles.

Our cruising companions have gone shopping. Susan and I have decided to ‘splice the main brace’, while listening to Dave Brubeck’s Greatest Hits (we can sing every word and hum every note at this stage of the voyage), and soaking our feet in warm soapy water.

Sweet Luxury!

Blog 9 The Six Kinds of Farts or Trivia Night at the Marina

Blog 9

The Six Kinds of Farts

or

Trivia Night at the Marina

After a big meal of Ribs, Potato salad, beans and chocolate kahlua cake prepared by the ladies, we sat around on the shelter deck of Stettler idly passing the time with a contest of Canadian trivia. In rounding things off and in tribute to the bean course we learned that there are six kinds of fart as follows:

There is a Lean Fart,

A Bean Fart,

A Fart Without a Weiner,

A Clean Fart,

A Jean Fart

– and -

A Tearing Asshole Screacher

Thank you Victor for this nugget from our culture.  You know that you can’t put a price tag on culture. By the time stuff like this gets ‘processed’ by culture Nazis, it wouldn’t rhyme, and it the humour component would be laundered. To Victor, thank YOU for a window on reality. This is the stuff that brings people together!!!

Time has passed since we posted the last blog...we departed Bimini and pounded our way south to the cut at Triangle Rock. When we finally arrived at the Cat Cay navigation mark on Great Bahama Bank it was nearly 11:00 am - but it was worth the inconvenience. Up went the sails and away we sailed. We logged 6.5 knots steadily and Sue claims to have carried 7.5 knots for a sustained period. The rail was under for the whole time. The winds subsided somewhat by 2:00 pm and our speed moderated as a result. We did make Russell Light by sunset and slept the sleep of the innocent, on the hook, on the Great Bahama Bank.

We awoke to the sound of a marine diesel engine passing close-by and when I poked my head out of the hatch, I recognized Dom and Lois in their Bayliner 32 just going past. We had not recognized their boat in the dusk as we passed them to anchor for the night.

With no time to waste, we raised anchor and set off for the next stretch. As the engine warmed I was alarmed to note that the temperature gauge was running above normal operating temperatures. Susan had warned me that she could hear the squeal of a belt! That glorious Balmar alternator uses so much horsepower that the single row 3/8” belt cannot deal with it. And I did not follow Joe’ advice and install a switch on the brown wire – so that the belt could get a rest. By 8:00 am I was in the side door to the engine compartment changing the alternator belt. The other boats which left Bimini at the same time as we did were all out in front now! Ah well – no biggie! As we turned south for New Providence Island, we took in our Genoa and let the main hang there. The diesel thundered and on we went – through the Tongue of The Ocean(AKA: TOTO according to the chart...I smell a hint of USNavy-speak here).

Out went the fishing line in the hope of any kind of bite. After a couple of hours, the line was hopelessly wound into a great bloody twist by that cheap crappy spoon that has never caught a darned thing. Over a hundred feet of my new line hopelessly twisted up – even with two swivels!

Experiment ended...

As the sun dropped to the horizon we entered West Bay, on New Providence Island, and dropped anchor right where the plotter told us to. The TOTO crossing was a glorious day. After we anchored Domenic and Lois (Sunshine) came by in their tender and we took a drink in the cockpit with Dave Brubeck’s Greatest Hits playing on the stereo. Life is grand. We relaxed all the next day, just enjoying the protected anchorage and doing small tasks aboard.  Oh, and I rebuilt the toilet. Another glorious event!

Ma Blij d'ar mor

That evening darkness was upon us as the last boat for the night entered harbour. Annie and Michel on Ma Blij d’Ar Mor had arrived from Bimini, having departed a day later than us. They had a water pump failure as they came through the cut in the reef. His plastic muffler melted and after dealing with that he encountered a few other problems.  Luckily we were able to get advice from Alberts Marine. Albert and his daughters were most helpful when we were in Nassau a couple of years ago. This time he could not furnish a wet elbow in the right output diameter. It was looking like a big problem to have the 2” one threaded to take a reducing barb fitting – so he directed us just around the corner to Garths Welding Shop. This place is HARD to find, but luckily –find it we did. Michel was presented with a welded steel copy of his cracked iron casting at a very reasonable price.  And he even stuck to his price....not such a common thing hereabout.

Raft Mates

With all of the mechanical work on Ma Blij we found ourselves just hanging around and enjoying the tranquility of West Bay. During the normal course of social intercourse, Joy and Steve of Meandering Joy told us what they had found on the internet about the community which partly surrounds the bay. The community is a high ticket gated type of place called Lyford Cay, boasting its own mega-yacht marina, a ‘foreign’ school (whatever that might be) and extremely rigorous security for the benefit of the one-hundred homeowners there.

And they have a big scandal going on at this time. Peter Nygard, the Canadian Fashion designer, has bought a three acre lot within the community that occupies the extreme Northwest point of New Providence. Apparently his persistant orgies are bothering some of the neighbours. There is also the allegation that he has illegally dredged enough spoil from around the point to enlarge his property to six acres. We noted the place when we first came into the bay and presumed it was a jungle theme entertainment park.  The music went on until 5:00 am and the huge arrays of coloured LED lights accent the tree houses and the bubbling cauldrons which apparently are hot-tubs.

Anyhow, petitions are being circulated – and it was pointed out to us that Sir Sean Connery one Nygard’s closest neighbours and well known British tax evader (no kidding! – this is how he was described to us) – has signed the petition circulating to put Nygard in his place.

A week and a half pass and we just know that it is time to go. We have seen the sights , we have heard from other cruising companions that they will not be coming, and also from those who went ahead asking if we are still planning to come south – south to George Town. Georgetown is Mecca to about half of Bahamas cruisers and is at least a cut above Marathon, where so many ‘cruisers’ park the boat and while away the winter months.

We had a lovely sail from West Bay to Normans Key in loose company with M’a blij  and at sunset we rafted together off the infamous drug lord’s cay, celebrating a great passage and planning the next hop, a short run to Big Majors Spot – famous around the world for the pigs which swim out to your boat to beg for food, as well as the ‘Thunderball Grotto’ made famous in that James Bond film  of 1965. We spent the afternoon snorkelling with Michel and Annie at the Thunderball Grotto, and I am happy to report that Sailor Sue got inside the grotto this year, unlike the last time. We all enjoyed the fabulous colours of the fish, which congregate here. They are totally tame and tend to formate on the largest swimming form. I had my own school of snapper for a brief moment – mine to lead. I lost my followers when I encountered a school, flock, den, bevy – oh who knows what to call them – of young ladies in bikinis, diving and lolling around in the grotto. I passed through them and sat on the very same ledge where the team of evil villain scuba assassins prepared to deliver their nuclear device to Miami(back in the 1965 movie:’Thunderball), and found myself chatting with the den mother of the young ladies, who commanded from that same ledge – in her own bikini, a leopard skin one. Wow!

Some people like Disney theme parks with Mickey and Goofy – but- just give me the islands every time!

dock at Black Point

Sue and I sailed that afternoon to join Now or Never at Black Point Beach, five mile to the south. M’a Blij  joined us a day later and we did our now-standard raft-up, just like at home on the Saint John River,   and at their home in Brittany, France. The fine people of Black Point Beach were as welcoming as ever and we revisited old haunts from our visit(s?) here with Gary on Adastrelle.

A weather window opened and we planned our departure. We wanted daylight to negotiate Dotham Cut, a channel by which we could leave the Bank and get to the Exuma Sound, an arm of the ocean, for our passage to Great Exuma Island. We knew that low slack tide occurred before sunrise – but we held out hope that the incoming tide would not overpower us if we tried to pass shortly after low slack and after sunrise. Things were looking very good for all three of us, who were struggling under full throttle and only making a little over a knot of forward progress. We had been at full throttle for at least 5 minutes when our engine simply stopped. I threw down the helm and we immediately raised the genoa sail to gain some steerage way. As we sailed past M’a Blij and Now or Never, we called out that we would catch up as soon as we fixed the problem. We might have been able to get out of the inflowing current to get back to our anchorage, but we decided that our best bet would be to simply proceed to the next cut to the South at the bottom of Big Farmer’s Cay, fixing the engine along the way. I was pretty sure that I knew what was wrong with the engine (belt wear as discovered previously - I had hoped it was completely corrected), so it should not take too long to put it back in service.

Well, I was wrong about the engine. Furthermore, I had no idea what caused it to stop. Susan and ‘Auto’ took us southward at 5 knots under sail while I read the service manuals for this Westerbeke W-27 power unit. Finally, in the electrical system schematic drawing I found a likely culprit denoted only as #10. It occupied high amperage space between the ignition key and the starter and had the ability to switch off the electric fuel pump. When I found the piece on the engine it looked like nothing more than a resettable thermal overload protector. There was no written reference to it in any of the manuals, and gently pushing its button seemed to have to effect.

We sailed all the way to Little Farmers Key with no breakthrough solution. Sue and I discussed it and decided that we could not negotiate Galliot Cut without an engine, and also that we probably would only be able to make the anchorage off the end of the airstrip runway under sail, which we remembered to have poor holding. So...back to Black Point we turned. Meanwhile I re-read both manuals from cover to cover. It was an hour later when I gave to concealed button a really hearty twisting squeeze and I felt something yield..

“Sue” I called “try the key”.

“Hot-Darn” the engine turned over. “Now stop cranking and leave the key on for a while.”

Needless to say, we had Sweet Success. As the fuel pump came on and bled the fuel rail.

Should we trust it? Maybe not. So instead of turning around again and going back to Big Farmer’s Cut or Galliot Cut we stayed on course for Dotham Cut, where we passed through on high flood tide with the engine idling, sails drawing full and hitting up to 8.4 knots over the bottom. We were four hours behind our companions – but we were under sail in the deep blue and enjoying the soltitude.

We hailed Now Or Never as we approached Emerald Bay Marina a half hour before sunset and three hours behind the others. Peter gave us our docking instructions and we were tied up in company with our companions in time for ‘sundowners’ on the dock.

Emerald Bay Marina is a bargain stop for cruisers in the George Town area. We arrived just after regatta week, and so we missed being part of the 450 cruising sailboat armada which annually comes here. For a fee of $.50 per foot per night, we had decent WiFi, free laundry and a weekly ‘Happier Hour’ with free rum punch and food. This has got to be the best deal in the Bahamas! No wonder they attract so many mega-yachts! It costs only a hundred bucks a night to tie-up a two-hundred footer.

Sealyon

We tied up just down the dock from a recent neighbour on New Providence Island.  SeaLyon is 212 feet long, with at least 4 decks and probably eats well over a million dollars per year in crew/maintenance/operating costs. It was kind of fun to hobknob with the elite over chicken wings, conch fritters and rum punch. Er captain was a charming gentleman, and the young guest passengers from New Providence added a little life to the place.

Now or Never leaving Emerald Bay

We could have stayed longer, but the blue water beckoned – so we sailed as soon as we took on some stores. It was a dawn departure and, as usual Sailor Sue and I worked all day long on our tan lines. This cruising life can be pretty strenuous.