Sunday – I got up early, got the coffee going and enjoyed a most pleasant, quiet, breezy morning topsides finishing up this log. It was moving day, back to the states. It was also clean up day and there was a laundry list of items Dave had drafted that needed to be taken care of for the next round of folks using the boat. The goal is to leave the boat clean as a whistle, with no remnants from the past users, including personal effects, food, etc. The Squirrel took on the job of cleaning the top sides, and Em was a maniac, cleaning the boat’s interior. Dave kept assigning me responsibilities from the list. Fortunately my incredible mechanical talents (right), along with the longest arms of anyone on board, made me the optimum candidate to bail the water from around the bow thruster buried deep in the anchor locker. I also filled up both water tanks, which took forever. Dave had lots of little, mechanical chores which I enjoyed doing, being Mr. Fixit at home prepared me for which end of the screw driver to use.
We finally got everything done, offloading all of our gear and dive equipment onto the dock, then took showers. I was aghast at the amount of gear sitting on the dock and wondered how we would get it all into the airplane. I swear there was even more stuff than we had before, in part because we were bringing some things back we didn’t bring when we came over. I was hoping it would be an even trade out with the beer, liquor, and groceries but was further horrified when we loaded it into the taxi.
Amazingly enough we got it all into the plane, again. Fortunately The Squirrel is one of the best pilots I have ever flown with and on the top of his game. With such a big load it was full throttle, full flaps, and a few Hail Mary’s and we were off the ground headed back to Naples. It was a relatively uneventful flight, my favorite kind. We landed, unloaded, then scattered to our various directions.
I enjoyed the adventure, and I am sure Dwight did too. There is no better feeling than to be completely exhausted; smiling inside with the memories of a wonderful time; possessing a cooler with fresh tuna, snapper, and conch; and future stories to tell. It was not unlike the gazillion boat races I shared with my Dad. I think he would have enjoyed the ride, and I hope he did, a least in spirit. I always loved when the sailing crew was headed off his boat, the Beschwipst, to their cars. As they headed off to points beyond he would tell his friends “Drive Cheerful”. I think my new expression would be “Boat Cheerful”. I can’t wait for the next adventure.
Saturday – Not starting out great this morning. Slow to rise and feeling a touch hung over but no headache, so that was good. I fixed a big ham and cheese sandwich and drank a bunch of cranberry juice. I am sure my liver appreciated that. The wind was still from the east but had simmered down to about 10 knots, like it does in the morning. We pulled out early to go offshore while it was still relatively calm and get in a dive. We anchored in 70’ of water and the boat rocked and rolled. By now I was feeling better but not great. I knew a dive would be just the thing to clear the cobwebs. Dave and The Squirrel were the first in to scope out the area, spotting some nice Hogfish and picking up some deep water conch.
Now it was mine and Em’s chance. She wanted to take pictures and I wanted to sight see. The reef was beautiful with coral heads rising up from the sand 12’ to 15’. There were lots of reef fish and small groupers poking their heads around the corner. I kept my eye on a 6’ reef shark that kept circling and getting closer. Finally, the shark annoyed Em’s photography session enough that she turned and charged him. He took off, never to be seen again. I guess you just don’t mess with a woman when she is on a mission.
I saw a nice scamp grouper and a big Nassau that worked his way up into a hole. I was simply intent on hovering like a bird mid air, diving low to see things under the coral heads then cruising up above them to enjoy the little reef fishes up close. We finished out the dive at the anchor where we hung for a few minutes at 15’ for safety reasons.
After cleaning up the gear and hanging it to air dry, we struck a course for New Providence and Old Fort Bay. Before our dive that day we had lost the starboard engine because of a broken fuel sensor. So it was a slow, agonizing five hour grind back, with the wind off our starboard quarter and the waves parallel to the boat. Oh, it was a long slog. My saving grace was steering the boat for a couple of hours, which made me focus on the horizon, and eventually a cold Gold Kalik. Actually, it took two beers and half a hamburger to fully recover. I’m not sure if it was the drinking, the relentless wind, the constant motion of the boat, or the combination of it all for a week, but I was pretty exhausted.
We were about an hour from port when we came upon a flock of birds. They were everywhere. Dave said “I bet you can find some black tuna under them”. Oh what a tease. Dave and I debated whether we had the energy to put out a line but I couldn’t resist. I had not contributed any fish to the cooler all week and now was my chance. I gamely retrieved the big rod with the cedar plug from down below as Dave circled around. The adrenaline was pumping as I reeled in the first little tuna. Paying out the line for another pass resulted in my second hook up. This time the adrenaline had backed off and the fatigue set in. For such a small fish I was whipped. But, one more pass for good measure put a third fish in the cooler. All right, fresh tuna! While the boat continued it’s combination of quartering and side to side rolls, I sloshed around the aft deck with my arms in the cooler, big knife in hand, cutting off heads and gutting the fish to bleed them out.
We fueled up at Lyford Cay, home of some gorgeous old boats and big mega-yachts. It must be nice to have money like that, for sure. However our boat was still a beauty and a great boat to tour the Bahamas. I bet we have more fun than the rich folks on their mega yachts. We finally got to our marina slip at dark, and ate whatever we had left on the boat. The food was so good, we were all ravenous, and totally exhausted. I finally crashed about 10:30 with a full belly and slept poorly the entire night. Weird dreams, light sleep, and lots of acid in my system, I will be glad to get into my own bed.
Friday – We woke up to a beautiful, quiet anchorage in the Creek. The tide came in during the evening, with high tide about 1:30 a.m. The boat had rotated in the channel so I got up to relieve myself and check everything. The stars were amazing and the east wind actually dropped a little to more of a breeze.
I was up early as the tide had started back out around 5:30. The sunrise was beautiful and I enjoyed a little Spa channel on the XM satellite radio and sipped my first cup of coffee while stretching my back. It has been a tough week for physical fitness but at least I am staying limber. We eventually came to the conclusion that we would wait for the bottom of the tide then add a few hours before we made the trek across the North Bight. High tide on the east side of Andros coincides with low tide on the west, with the high tide hump traveling across from east to west. So to hit the high water in the middle we needed to leave on the low tide on the west and hope that as the tide dropped on the east we would have enough draft.
The Squirrel suggested we start the day with Bloody Mary’s, which was an excellent option considering we were in one of Dwight’s resting places and one of his world famous Bloody Mary’s seemed appropriate. I fixed up my best mix and it was delicious, using my dad’s special blend, of which I refused to reveal the ingredients. Dave was onto the Worstershire Sauce but could never guess the rest. I wasn’t telling.
We were all sitting enjoying the salon, reading, writing, doing puzzles and enjoying the respite from the relentless wind and doctor flies. They had been atrocious all week. We were killing time, waiting for the tide when we spotted a conga line of spongers headed to work. They looked very solemn as they headed out into the open waters. I was working on this story when the next thing I see is Charlie Bethel pulled up next to us in his 31’ Jupiter, with twin 250’s. He was headed to town to pick up a generator and had one of his crew tailing along in a big Carolina skiff. That was our sign that is was time to up anchor and head across the Bight. The Squirrel and I finished our third Bloody Mary (yes it was a GOOD morning), pulled anchor and headed out, thankfully with Dave at the helm.
Loggerhead Creek is a nice, wide, deep waterway with mangroves on each side with a reputation for sharks. As you proceed upstream the depth quickly peters out to nothing, except the wheel channel. Dave eased us into this narrow channel and we continued our slow motoring to the east. It was a nice, uneventful run with adequate water and an occasional show of a turtle or some sharks.
We arrived just off shore from Crazy Charlie’s and decided to take him some of our extra supplies. It would be me and Em this time since The Squirrel and Dave had already been there. I mentioned to the group that Charlie Bethel, on his return from town, would probably stop by. I suggested they invite him in for a beer and to tour the boat. I knew he would be interested in the set up having already seen her from his helicopter.
Crazy Charlie was living in the Bang Bang Club but had no power and we wondered about his water supplies. We took him some bottled water, beers, some things he couldn’t eat (apples, peanuts) because he had no teeth, and stuff he could eat like peanut butter. I did a quick tour of the cottages and main building while Em engaged Charlie in conversation.
When I returned from my brief tour of the run down club, he was in full storytelling mode. As we sipped our beers, I finally asked him how he got the name Crazy Charlie, and thus began the background. He was guiding some corporate big wig from the United States and they were striking out on the bonefish. Charlie had a fly that he had tied special, which is about all he does these days, called the “Nasty Charlie”. He suggested the bigwig try it and they did very well. The story gets a little blurry, remember now I had gone from Bloody Mary’s to beers all afternoon, but my recollection is that the Bigwig asked if he could have the fly copied. Charlie agreed, and was paid something on the order of $80,000 for the rights. However, to market the fly, they couldn’t call it the “Nasty Charlie” so instead they opted for the “Crazy Charlie”. He was holding the fly that was now his namesake and handed it to me to look at. I don’t know squat about flies or fly fishing, so he could have handed me a hook with a button sewn on (The Squirrel or Dave got one of those) and I wouldn’t know the difference. I handed it back and he said “Keep it” then offered any of his flies to Em as well. I felt very privileged to receive his namesake fly and have put it in a special place.
By now Charlie Bethel had arrived so we invited Crazy Charlie to come out to the boat and visit. He was enjoying the cold beers and I bet he would enjoy both the coolness of the salon, no doctor flies, more beer and the company of our crew. He elected to motor out in his flats skiff and Dave tied him off of between the dive platform and the Jupiter. Oh what an event, having these two native Bahamians sitting in the salon telling stories.
Bahamian Story Telling Hour in the salon. L to R – Me, Diamond Dave, Charlie Bethel, The Squirrel, Crazy Charlie.
One of the stories Charlie Bethel told was of a hurricane that washed all his fuel and railing right off the deck of his 50’ sportfish they were using on a crawfish adventure.
Crazy Charlie filled in with some of the details as well, including the loss of five Bahamians that were also out on the banks. Of course Crazy Charlie would be happy to talk all afternoon but after about an hour or so Charlie Bethel needed to leave. He had his generator to deliver and would be traveling the wheel channel with the sun in his eyes on a falling tide. Not the optimum situation but I am sure he has dealt with it before.
Both gents left the Gone Astray and we pulled up anchor and continued east to the North Bight. We set anchor and the water was clear and beautiful, not like the milky waters on the west side. Em was out snorkeling and I jumped in to sober up a little and enjoy a swim. The sun was setting and I was perfectly comfortable resting on the dive platform enjoying the warmth of the sunset. I don’t know for how long but soon enough I was sitting at the dinner table eating leftover spaghetti with blue crab claws in it. The two biggest mistakes I made for the day was letting The Squirrel talk me into Bloody Mary #3 and not drinking enough water. It seems I never drink enough water on these cruises.
Thursday – It was a perfect anchorage behind Williams Island. I slept like a baby, as I usually do on the boat, like in a rocking cradle. We were up and at them early because we wanted to make it back to Flamingo Cay and have a proper lunch with Charlie and Cindy. The wind was howling from the southeast so it was a long slog against the wind and waves. Our normal hull speed is 11 knots at 1200 rpm, but the wind slowed us down to 7 knots.
We were close to our anchorage and next thing we know Charlie is hanging off of our stern in his helicopter, maybe all of 20’ off the water.
Our chopper pilot and Flamingo Cay host, Charlie Bethel.
We eventually reached our anchoring location where Dave volunteered to stay on the boat and fix things (windlass, broken toilet seat), keeping an eye on the anchor. No need having the line part and the boat drift off to Cuba, realizing some refugees dream. We piled into the dinghy and headed to the wheel channel leading to the Club. It was rough but we stayed dry and got into the channel, in spite of the steering going bad on the dinghy. Cindy and Charlie met us at the dock and we were immediately plied with Stella Artois on tap. Charlie didn’t indulge, after all he was piloting the chopper. We loaded into his cart and headed to the airstrip. He had a 10 passenger Turbine Otter stored under a fabric hangar and the Eurocopter parked out in the open. Charlie set us up in the chopper, The Squirrel as co-pilot, me and Em in the back, and we were off for an aerial tour of Flamingo Cay.
The Bethel family has owned the property since 1926 and it is about 32 square miles (over 20,000 acres!). It was originally set up as a hunting camp, with duck hunting the predominant sport and bonefishing the water sport. Charlie continues to operate it as a premier bonefishing and hunting destination. We cruised over what seemed to me to be desolate lands. Open shallow waters with deep tidal creeks, turtles, bonefish, and lots of open mangroves, including a flock of flamingo’s spotted in the distance. We were really treated with the helicopter tour and being able to see so much of the area in such a short period of time.
An turbine helicopter amusement ride in the middle of Andros! Who’d a thunk.
Bonefish flats and deep access channel.
We ended back at the camp for a ground tour of the accommodations. Top shelf is the only way I can describe the “camp”, which is Charlie’s preferred connotation for the property. Luxury resort seemed a more appropo term. He had used a South African hard wood for all of his furniture, trim, and flooring. The rooms were beautiful. He took us through some of his family history, particularly the rum running days of the Bahamas supplying the United States during prohibition.
We retired to the open air dining room on one of the docks and gorged ourselves on blue crab salad, stone crabs, and white wine. Charlie and Cindy dined with us and it was a most wonderful event. Both are really charming hosts and I got the sense that they were happy to have the company of friends, not having to cater to the high end guests that show up to let their hair down.
Cindy giving instruction to The Squirrel
Sitting down for crab lunch.
The Flamingo Cay Logo
Roger Waters prize bonefish
Mila and Lou, awaiting the toss of the stick
We finally left the camp around 4:30, headed out the long channel to the boat. Once there we immediately pulled anchor and headed for our overnight berth in Loggerhead Creek. As the sun set, The Squirrel joined me on the back deck for a toast to Dwight. They all started dinners (hamburgers and salad) as I quietly placed some of his ashes in the creek. It was a beautiful sunset and I am quite sure my dad would be pleased with the beauty and remoteness of the location.
A martini toast to Dwight and a beautiful sunset in his name.
Wednesday – The wind has been relentless, blowing out of the east for days, with speeds probably averaging 15 to 25 knots. It has been good for blowing away some of the doctor flies, and keeping the boat positioned to see the sunset, but after a while you feel like you are in a wind tunnel and going below into the still air with the air conditioning is a treat. After my usual morning stretching routine I finished off the potato salad, ate a chunk of smoked sausage, and completed my meal with a slice of pumpernickel raisin toast. Mom would be proud to see her boy eating in the German way, for breakfast no less.
I made a list of beers to name our dive sites and continued studying the maps for the next route or river to the hidden treasure. We decided to head north to Williams Island, home to a famous drug running airstrip, with crashed planes around it. It was my turn in the water, so I geared up with my full wetsuit, anticipating the water temperature, which was 75 degrees, to be too chilly for a shorty. We headed off to investigate our next round of dive sites.
I splashed in on Busch Light, which was all seagrass with some scattered sponges. The next site, Abita, was a little different. It was covered with lots of sponges, sea fans, and bottom algae, but again, no ledges or rocks and therefore no fish. I modified my dive plan. Instead of swimming off and around the sites like Dave and The Squirrel did with the boat waiting in the background, instead The Squirrel would drive the boat over the site and I would tow along in the water, holding onto the grab handle at the back of the dinghy. If something came up interesting I would free dive the 15’ to the bottom to check it out. The rest of the dive sites, Kalik Light and Rolling Rock, were all basically the same as Abita. A beautiful dive but nothing much to shoot for dinner, not even any conch.
We decided to move on to the west side of Billy Island, to check out water depths and an anchorage for the day. We were joined by a school of dolphin at the bow of the boat. It was a rather nice display and I got some good pictures.
At the north tip there was an old DC-3 plane wreck in about 8’ of water. The Squirrel checked it out for fish and asked for a spear, seeing a Mutton Snapper. Dave decided to anchor so we could all get in the water and explore the wreck. It was pretty cool, with one of the props actually sticking into the air. Tons of snappers, a few small nurse sharks under the debris and lionfish abounded on the wreck. I didn’t see anything to shoot so after I explored the wreck I took up killing Lionfish. Nasty little bastards, and they are proliferating on the reefs, so it was satisfying taking them out.
We pulled anchor and motored over to the west side of Williams Island, close enough to for a dinghy ride. The Squirrel and I took a cooler and headed to the airstrip. After a short hike through the clay and short mangroves we made it to the strip, checking out the three plane wrecks. It is hard to believe that they actually landed planes on the site, but drugs and money will make you do some pretty daring things, so I am told.
Relict DC-3 from the drug running days of Williams Island. Yup, dem ders bullet holes.
We got back to the dinghy then motored up a couple of the tidal creeks. The tide was going out and it was really cool how the channels had been cut into the clay terrain. I took some action shots of The Squirrel coming through the channel then we headed down the coast to check on a weird stick pen the locals had built, probably to hold conch, sponges, or turtles. We came to a point where the waves were in our face so we headed back to the boat.
I took a wonderful warm shower. All my dive gear was dry as the sun beat down relentlessly on the back deck. It was hot so everyone was upstairs in the shade enjoying the cool breeze, although it was more like a gale. Eventually we all went below to get out of the sun and wind.
Stick pen
Mangrove Creek & The Flying Squirrel.
The sun was finally setting so I asked The Squirrel to join me on the back deck for a martini in Dwight’s name. We sat and talked a little then it was dinner time. Dave rustled up grilled Mutton Snapper, The Squirrel grilled some vegetables, Em cooked rice, and I was on clean up duty. I had a lull while they were busy with dinner so I placed some of Dwight’s ashes in the water. “I think you would like this” I said to his spirit as the ashes dispersed in the clear water and the sun set.
Sunset over Billy’s Island. Dwight would like this.
Dinner was delicious and afterwards The Squirrel joined me on the back deck for a nightcap and a cigar. We turned off the deck and underwater lights, then just enjoyed the night sky. It was an early evening. Once again I was the last one down for the night, resting peacefully in my bunk listening to Blade Runner on my Droid. I was tired and it was a busy day. Our anchorage was very calm and even though the wind kept up, at least there wasn’t any roll in the boat like we experienced off of Wide Opening the night before.
Monday – We departed early to catch the tide, headed through Middle Bight. I am getting used to picking our way over shallow waters, with only a foot of clearance below the props. The boat, a 46’ Newton dive boat, reconfigured by Dave for Bahamas cruising is designed well for this type of exploration. I had the helm for a while and was trying to use the charts when it seemed we were getting shallower. Dave took over and we finally spotted the aforementioned “wheel channel”. Sure enough that was how Charlie Bethel gets his landing craft and boat supplies to Flamingo Cay, so we followed it, giving us about an additional foot of clearance.
Following a “wheel channel” through Middle Bight. This is at high tide. Check out the stirred up mud behind us.
We scared turtles out of the channel on occasion but that was about all we saw. It really narrowed down as we entered Loggerhead Creek. It was beautiful but made me nervous about navigating the boat in such tight quarters so I turned it over to The Squirrel. We were not expecting the numerous sponge divers and boats in the creek and were a little disappointed to see anybody, expecting desolation. The Squirrel’s expectations were that no one would be around. A few terms were bandied about regarding whether they were Dominicans poaching conch or Bahamians, and we finally decided they were Haitians working for the local Bahamians collecting sponges, owed in part to the boat we saw at Mangrove Cay loaded with sponges. I didn’t think this was still a viable industry but apparently I was wrong.
We explored the three channels leading into the west side then anchored up in the Creek to get our dive equipment ready and to eat lunch. The Squirrel got into Mom’s potato salad so we grilled the brats and had a great lunch. We logged in some of the GPS numbers The Squirrel’s staff put on the Google maps showing interesting locations. We also discovered the battery charger was broken so I helped Dave with handing him tools as he put in a spare. He is always prepared for the worst, an important trait if you are going to be boating in the middle of nowhere.
Checking out Loggerhead Creek
We headed south and didn’t see much on the three GPS locations. The Squirrel was the man overboard for the day but of the three sites only one had any rock surface, the others were just grass. After we checked them all we headed back north to the south exit from Middle Bight and to anchor up for the night.
Em and I took the dinghy to shore to explore what we thought was a sandy beach. Turns out it was all clay with just a little bit of sand at the top of the shoreline, creating a “dune”. It was a really weird shoreline and there was basically no trash to be seen, which is unusual for most shorelines in the Bahamas. It is kind of a shame so much trash washes up on the Bahamian beaches, taking away from the natural beauty of the area.
The clay banks of the west side of Andros Island.
We headed inland through the mud and mangroves, pausing at a crab hole to take a picture. It was a huge hole and Em commented about not wanting to have to spend the night on the island, fearing the crabs would take over. With a claw about the size of my hand, I too would not want the pleasure of meeting up with one in the middle of the night. I walked out to a mangrove island, checking out the middle in search of the treasure The Squirrel promised we would find. I headed back to meet Em, we walked the beach a little, then headed to the boat.
Man eating land crab, awaits the dark and it’s next victim.
Mudding my way to the mangrove island where treasure awaited.
I was tired but happy with being able to do a little exploring. The drinking continued as usual, and I enjoyed another night on the foredeck watching the stars. Saw my two favorite satellites and another shooting star. Constellation watching is becoming one of my favorite Bahamian past times. Tinkle, tinkle, tinkle said the scotch in my coffee cup. Dwight’s ashes were safely tucked in my gear bag, but I am sure he was enjoying the constellations with his son. I’m not sure if he was looking up at the stars or down at me but I could feel his smile.
Sunday – We unloaded the dinghy and used it to head to Moxeytown to make dinner reservations at Mr. Greens restaurant and drop off some trash. Dave had stayed with the boat, a theme common to travelling with him. It is his baby and he likes to spend time making sure she is just right. We headed over to Gibson Cay, which had a blue hole in the middle of it. Em dropped back to walk the beach as The Squirrel and I worked our way over the karst, in our flip flops. It was a typical first day mistake for walking gear but we were careful. We got to the blue hole, which was probably 400’ wide. I could not see the bottom except at the edges, which I estimated to be 30’ deep. I paused long enough to drink the Gold Kalik I had nurtured in my back pocket, then we picked our way carefully back to the shoreline. Eventually we found Em and headed back to the boat.
Dave and The Squirrel did some scouting of the Middle Bight since we were mixing routes between the waterway guide and GPS points Charlie Bethel gave us. Charlie Bethel owns the Flamingo Cay Rod and Gun Club and makes the trek across the island on a regular basis, providing supplies to his resort. The boys stopped in to see Crazy Charlie (not Bethel) who was living out his life in a run down resort famously known as the Bang Bang Club. Charlie tied bonefish flies, drank his homemade Sapodilla wine, and told the boys stories of his time running the club.
Meantime Em and I stayed on the boat and I actually did some work for the business. As time got on we started to worry a little since the boys didn’t respond to our hail on Channel 14, the agreed channel to monitor on the VHF. Turns out when they arrived and checked in, Dave handed the radio over to The Squirrel, who inadvertently switched the radio to channel 16 instead of 14, doing his best distress impression for Em and I, only to broadcast to the world instead. I guess I am sorry I missed it, maybe not.
They finally got back to they boat for our dinner reservations. The wind was howling out of the east, probably 10 to 15 mph, and the dinghy ride was pretty far for a late night run back to the boat. Dave made the call to relocate the boat closer to Moxeytown on the south side of the bight so we had a short dinghy ride to the restaurant.
The Green’s restaurant was basically a tiki hut with bar, some plumbing, a sand floor and a kitchen in the back. The Squirrel put in an order for a seafood mix for all, except no conch for Em, and Mr. Green refreshed the vodka drinks we brought with us to the restaurant. We chatted with the locals, met Mike, a retired special forces guy (we later learned) and got some good information on the tides and the “wheel channel” that Mike admonished us to stay in as we trekked across the Middle Bight to the west side of Andros. The conch was opened fresh by Mr. Green on the “dock” and his daughter, Anastasia, was prepping conch salad right in front of me. It was fascinating watching her chop and prep the salad, seemingly with her eyes closed. I complimented her on her abilities, as “poetry in motion” and received a big grin filled with beautiful white teeth in return. We finished our meals, dropped about $100 in the bar, then loaded up for the now short dinghy ride back to the boat. Good call Dave!
Hanging in the “restaurant” at Mr. Greens.
I retired once again to the top deck for my evening solitude, scotch tinkling in my coffee cup, and watched the starry sky. It is so beautiful in the Bahamas, with the various colors of the water, sunsets, and unadulterated starry skies. I always enjoy these trips and was happy to be relaxing.
Andros – April 6th to 16th. Dealing with the loss of my father and (two) one week vacations in one short month was a new one for me. My Dad was a sailor and outdoorsman and I have tried to follow in those footsteps as well. But I seldom take that much time off from work since I am the top billing guy in a marine engineering consulting firm. With some trepidation I accepted the invite from Rocky the Flying Squirrel to go explore the west side of Andros Island with Diamond Dave and the lovely Miss Em. I would be returning home and, in less than a week, would be leaving again for Costa Rica. But I couldn’t NOT go, citing the old adage “No one was ever in their death bed saying they wished they spent more time in the office”. My Dad had died in the end of March and his passing was additional impetus for me to live my life to the fullest extent possible. He would accompany me on this trip, in both ashes, and spirit.
It is a good team, with The Flying Squirrel a wiggy, lovable one. Em is a lady capable of holding her own with the guys. Diamond Dave is the consummate Bahama’s boater. Dave and The Squirrel are partners in the boat with two others. Fortunately that means the boat get’s used a lot, always better than one that sits around. A Bahama’s trip with this group is always good company, full of adventure, work, and wonder. But it is always a challenge in escaping the commitments of the work world.
This trip would be unusual in that we were going to be exploring the west side of Andros Island. This area is very remote and mostly viewed by the Squirrel from a couple of thousand feet in altitude while making his way from Florida to the islands and back. All those little dark patches in the water were something! With the wonder of Google maps, GPS, and a little luck we would find a sunken treasure ship or maybe at least a fish or two.
Three days before leaving, Robin my business partner, and I blasted down to Key West to check on the progress of one of our construction projects, Tarpon Pier replacement. She did the driving and I worked on the laptop, writing reports, and basically doing as much as I could to get caught up before I left. It also gave me time to think about my responsibilities for two meals on the trip. I knew I could whip up a decent spaghetti sauce, hey, who can’t, but the second meal was a challenge. Shell, my sweet wife, offered some solutions, the best one being sausage with onions and peppers. But I was concerned about bringing produce into the country, not wanting to start out the vacation in a Bahamian brig.
I worked my lists and resolved myself to cook spaghetti sauce on Thursday night, coming back from the Keys run. Travelling such a distance is tiring, even if I am not doing the driving. Robin and I got back into town about 6:00, time enough to get to Publix and secure the proper supplies. Sometimes it is easier to make a decision about something when you just relax and let the ideas flow. I bought into Shell’s idea of the sausages, and bought a big pack of Bratwurst. I already had Mom teed up to prepare her world famous potato salad, so I figure between the spaghetti sauce and bratwust/potato salad I would be covered for the trip.
Cooked, delicious, and cooling on the stove was my best pot of spaghetti, probably because I hadn’t made it in so long so I thought it was pretty good. Shell baked the brats on Friday and Mom delivered on the potato salad Friday night. Things were working out.
I was forsaking my Board meeting Friday night for an evening out with Shell. That was okay since she gave me the Bahama’s pass for a week. I know we had a Costa Rica vacation following the Bahama’s adventure so my husband credits were good, but never the less we had a lovely evening out. She was happy with dinner and the week ahead was looking good.
Saturday – The lists worked well, crossing off items, rethinking others, and adding those last minute items I seem to always forget. I was packing the truck for the run to Naples, grabbing last minute items like batteries out of the shop as I got ready. I made Rocky’s office at 8:00, on time, and sat in Em’s cubicle marveling at her cartoon collections as she wrapped up her business. She has a marvelously dry sense of humor and I can always count on her for an occasional email worthy of archiving. The boys had yet to arrive.
We made it to the airport and began the process of loading all the “stuff” we had. Wow, so much gear and they already had preloaded the boat over the past month. I stepped in and exercised my “stowing prowess”, getting it all packed into the back of the plane. With no room to spare we were wheels up for New Providence.
Jammed to the roof of the plane with our load of gear.
It was an effortless flight, The Flying Squirrel doing his usual stellar job of piloting with Dave by his side, and shortly we were unpacking, then packing again into a taxi at Odyseey, the private terminal in Nassau. Customs asked a question about our packages but we were innocuous enough that they didn’t check anything. I could have brought the produce, hell, Dave had a bag full but it was easier bringing a cooler with the spaghetti, brats, and potato salad chilled. Plus we had a bunch of Coors Light, Dave’s flavor of choice.
We got it all into the taxi and headed off to the marina at Old Fort Bay on Lyford Cay, stopping at the new Whole Foods store for some last minute foodstuffs and a case of Gold Kalik, my favorite beer. In spite of it now being available at Publix, it was once Coorslike unobtainium, with the occasional case provided for as a Christmas present or on a return trip from the Bahamas. So many great memories with this formerly high horsepower beer, I still drink it as my Bahamian favorite. The Squirrel scarfed up some cigars and the next thing I knew we were loading the boat direct from the taxi. Everyone hustles, it is a great team, and since we all know what to do things got stowed quickly.
We waited a while for a local friend to pick up some maps and charts that the Squirrel is currently developing. With the meeting over Dave fired up the starboard engine and then the port, but something was wrong, making a bit of noise so he shut her down. We scanned the handbooks and Dave made some calls, resulting in a delay as we pulled the valve cover off the port engine and checked the injectors. I really didn’t care if we didn’t leave right away and I enjoyed the opportunity to study the engines and help Dave with the wrenching. We checked the electrical leads to the injectors, per telephone direction from the local mechanic, and sure enough that was the problem. Disconnect and reconnect and once fired the port engine purred like a sleeping Tiger. We were into the Tongue of the Ocean headed to the Middle Bight of Andros Island.
The Flying Squirrel passed out on the back deck, letting the worries of work and flying reside elsewhere, dreaming of G4’s.
We fished a little along the way, drank cold beers (some slept) and we finally anchored a ways up the Middle Bight. The Squirrel grilled steaks and Em made a delicious salad. Everyone was finally chilling out and I finished a rather long day with my favorite scotch in a ceramic coffee cup and watched the stars. I saw two satellites and a shooting star, making a wish on my daughter’s behalf, then retired to my bunk. The wind came dashing through the forward hatch, and I slept like a baby… (to be continued)
