1/27 to 1/31
Eleuthera – Spanish Wells to Hatchet Bay
I was writing this entry while I was down on a southwesterly course, on a broad reach. Winds are gusty but a very nice average of eighteen knots. Full sails out. My hands go to the mainsheet cam cleats often and I am constantly pulling on the outhaul. I am flying along at hull speed, often exceeding seven knots. Seas are relatively flat at about two feet. I am racing Rob as we head towards the Exumas. I wanted to catch up to Rob and impress him. Rob has a faster boat. Lena Rae is longer with a better sail area. But I have newer sails, a boat that was no slouch, and a skipper more experienced in racing. But a question remains; how did I get here? Did I skip Eleuthera and went straight for the Exumas?
Back in Eleuthera, but after I had left Spanish Wells, I wanted to stay in Eleuthera for a few more days. I would turn around and start the long journey back. But I wanted to cruise with Rob for a while longer. He did too — “I’m not sure if I want to make it all the way down to the Exumas.” I had said. He visibly deflated, in the most sincere and genuine way. That’s Rob for you. No hidden thoughts, his real personality out there for the whole world to see. In a moment, he sparked up and repeated what he had been saying, pointing to the weather chart on my phone. How we can get there and back easily in a few days.
You see, I had a hard deadline to be in Eleuthera. Hard deadlines are the enemy of a cruising sailor. I had a friend’s friend flying out to join me for my return journey. I was really excited to have someone else on my boat; the return journeys are never as exciting as the outbound one, and thus, much more difficult. I would sure love to have an extra hand and at the least, a change of scenery in my stale and empty feeling boat. Rob’s fingers moved around my phone screen, and with each wave, I was won over. My head filled with images of us riding on the dinghy together, seeking out new reefs and the brand-new colors of yet another Bahamian island chain.
Exumas! This was where all the trendy sailors want to go. Where all those YouTube videos, which I dislike, were filmed in. Where the trending hash-tag of #pigsonthebeach all started. Exumas was the reason why people all over the country were introducing pigs to their islands, and by extension, why Bahamas has become such a resort country. I imagined boats sitting at anchor with questionable ground tackle, all pointing in the same direction like the zombies we are at a movie theater, thinking that Avatar (2009) was an original groundbraking movie. But there had to be a reason why everyone wanted to go there. I was going to find out for myself.
Despite the The Promised Land® of the Exumas, my thoughts were still with Alice Town on this passage. I had such a good time in Alice Town in the past few days. I’m discovering a lot about myself. City Jerry would have been bored of the little village. There wasn’t much to do. No Salsa dancing. Not much nightlife. No motorcycles. There wasn’t even any spearfishing to do. Despite all odds, Island Jerry loved it. In fact, it had become my favorite place in the Bahamas. Before I was headed to the Exumas, I was in Eleuthera, and of course, before I would see Alice Town, I’d have to leave Spanish Wells.
The big island of Eleuthera was largely split into two sections. To the West, there was Spanish Wells. Spanish Wells was technically its own island. The mainland of Eleuthera began about quarter of a mile east of Spanish Wells. The mainland starts here and extends east, but right where it begins, there is a spit of land that extends South-South-West, terminating in a small island called Current Island. Further east, the mainland extended east before turning south. Along this northern portion, there were some places we wanted to stop by. First, there was a bridge called Glass Window Bridge. Further east was a small, very well protected harbour called Hatchet Bay, with Alice Town adjacent. The mainland then turns south, ending in a large bay called Rock Sound. Glass Window Bridge was our first destination and rendezvous point. Then we would head towards Alice Town.
Rob left for the Glass Window bridge a full two hours before me. He doesn’t sleep as late as I do, and he absolutely refuses to start his engine. He would have to sail further south to get around Current Island. I didn’t mind running the engine when I have to, so I motored to a closer course to a small inlet called current cut that separated Current Island from the mainland.
Current cut is this wild area where two different tidal zones meet. West of the cut, where I was, was a full two hours ahead in the tides than the east. So if you arrived during most parts of the day, the higher waters in one side caused a wicked current that flows one way or another. I timed it to pass the cut when I was sixty to ninety minutes past low tide, when the water levels on both sides of the cut would be more or less equal.
The cut was lined with cliffs and rocks, which made for some spectacular visuals. As I passed the cut, which at the time had almost no current, I saw that there was a small settlement there. A supply boat was dropping off construction supplies and probably groceries on the northern side. Locals were eagerly unloading the boat. Typically, these boats arrive at settlements once a week. I wondered if that day was an exciting day for people who lived here. As I passed the government dock, the channel was surrounded by shallower flats that spread around spectacularly in front of me. The sight went on for another quarter mile, and ended rather abruptly. The depth stabilized around seventeen feet. Of course, with the changing depth came changing colors. Like I said, amazing visuals.
The colors were now a light blue all around me. I could easily see the shadow of Sonora, and even through the wave-twisted view of the surface, I could see the bottom. It was littered with small coral heads and wildlife.
I turned northeast to head towards the Glass Window bridge. There were a bunch of things me and Rob wanted to see there. The Eleutheran mainland was almost separated by a small cut there. It was only covered by waves crashing into it during high tide. The land mass around that cut is a steep cliff, making the cut impassable by land transport if it weren’t for the bridge. Pictures of the bridge looked amazing. Close to the bridge was a place called Queens Bath. It’s an fjord-like area with tidal pools that supposedly warm up to a very bath-like temperature. There is also a blow hole there that blasts water and air out into the sky as waves generate pressure in the labyrinth of air holes within.
The sail was very nice. I made five knots downwind, but across very flat seas which made it feel a lot more leisurely than it was. Eventually I arrived and I got my anchor down under sail, just as Rob taught me back in the Abacos. I was right by the twin sisters beach. This beach was located less than a mile from the bridge. Against the backdrop of cliffs, beaches and the bridge itself, I waited for Lena Rae to show up. The cliff seemed to look down at my little sailboat.
I had read a few chapters of Treasure Island which I had never read in English. So despite being over double the age of the intended readership, it was a great time killer. Unfortunately, the wave action kept getting bigger and bigger. I was getting pretty queasy. If I left this place to make for Hatchet Bay, I’d want to do it while I still had some sunlight. I decided to wait until three in the afternoon. The ninety minutes went by quickly. I clambered up forward to the bow, which was pitching up and down quite a bit. Bracing myself on the pulpit, I hauled the anchor up. Difficult, but uneventful. I fired up the engine and started heading out, worried that I will never see Rob again. Just as I was motor sailing east, my radio crackled with Rob’s voice, hailing Sonora. Another song of a distant Rob.
This is when I first suspected that my VHF antenna or cable had deteriorated, which reduced my range to four miles. I tried to tell him that I was headed for Hatchet Bay and that he should join me, but none of my transmissions were received. I hoped that he would see what I was doing and that he would do the same.
Unfortunately, Rob kept on his course and disappeared behind the landmass that masked the bridge for me. No! I exclaimed, silently. So without a buddy, I made it into hatchet bay by myself.
What a cozy place! The inlet reminded me of Current cut. It was a narrow passage cut into the cliffs. Narrower than any place I had been in the Abacos. The entryway led to a largely empty basin surrounded by short cliffs. Later I would learn that this is considered the safest harbour in the area. The water looked to be a dark brown, showing the color of the vegetation below.
Some of my friends I met earlier on the trip were there. Richard, a Maine firefighter in his fifties, cruising with his son on Strider, was anchored right by me. On the other side of the basin towards the East was Bruce on Mambo, the experienced seventy year old charter captain who I would, months later, affectionately refer to as my ‘Caribbean Dad.’ Their boats interrupted the colors of the cliffs. Behind the cliffs, was a yet another amazing sunset. It was pitch-black by the time I got on my dinghy.
I spent about an hour taking my dinghy around the basin. I even tied up the the government dock to walk around a little bit. The docks were in poor shape. The ladder I climbed to get on land looked like it was falling apart. I definitely needed to rig a stern anchor to keep my dinghy off the barnacles and mussels. If I fell, I’d be gravely injured by the shellfish.
On the giant concrete dock, I heard some rustling behind me. I turned around and saw a dog had walked up behind me, illuminated by the old yellow street light. It startled me a bit.I’m a bit weary of street dogs outside the US. It’s not safe to assume all dogs here will be friendly. I shined my flashlight on the dog and loudly talked to the dog. It cowered and scurried away. The settlement was absolutely asleep. Even the bars that were known to be open late were closed. Still, it was nice to stretch my legs a little bit. Back on Sonora, I went to sleep wondering if I’ll ever see Rob again.
The next morning, I got on my bicycle and started an arduous, ten mile ride back to Glass Window bridge. Here was my plan; Rob must be somewhere on this island. There was only one major road here that cut through the island, and chances are, I would find him on the road. If not, I knew the two attractions he wanted to explore. If I didn’t find him on land, I would at least be able to establish radio contact with him.
I got on Queen’s Highway — that is what it is called on all the out-islands– and started cycling. The road was just wide enough for two cars, lined with vegetation interrupted by sharp coral walls. I enjoyed the beautiful and foreign scenery. I thought to myself that I should cycle more often. Its always more fun than I remember. I felt revitalized as the wind blew through my hair, the cool offshore breeze helping manage the hot sub-tropic sun. Then the first car went by.
The ride there was terrifying. Cars blasted by me at highway speeds. Sometimes a big truck would be coming from the opposite side, and traffic behind me would leave me only a foot or so to pass. Drivers honked at me as it is customary to greet any person. I usually find this to be a very endearing part of Bahamian culture, but it only added to my growing apprehension about doing this suicidal trip.
I pedaled through a bunch of steep hills. The views were incredible, really, but I hardly noticed them. I was panting and sweating to crawl up the steep hills. My legs burned. Just when I thought I couldn’t make it, I’d crest the hill. I enjoyed brief moment of respite at the top, but before I knew it, speed would build up at a terrifying pace. My small wheel bicycle with the very short wheelbase was not the most stable at speed. And my folding frame had been known to pop open at speed when it was not adjusted properly– it would for sure fold the bicycle in half, sending me tumbling through the air. I did my best to squeeze my brakes without burning up the pads. The bicycle frame bent and flexed, while the handlebars twitched as it went over imperfections in the road. Below, the road went by as a terrifying, grey blur of abrasives. But the wind felt great! I was a dry, sweat-less boy at the bottom of every hill.
I went by some really cool landmarks. An outdoor theater adorned by colorful murals. Some disused silos and concrete cisterns. Wonderful views of the sea, peeking through whenever the topography or the vegetation allowed. A sign pointing towards a pineapple orchid, which I heard produced the sweetest in the world. But really, I hardly noticed them as I tried my best to dodge traffic. In my younger years as an early immigrant to the U.S., I had made a promise to myself that I will always check my risk-taking tendencies to save my parents the heartbreak of losing their first born son overseas. I kept thinking how silly it would be if I died here while on this incredible vacation. I think this was the most dangerous thing I did in this trip, even beating out going spearfishing alone, as a beginner, with sharks around.
Gregory Town, about half way to my destination, was a really cool village. There was a few gas stations, old homes and a church, the last being situated right by the small, cliff surrounded harbour. The village looked like a place imagined by artists. Maybe a fantasy video game setting, or something else not real. Children in their school uniforms and chicken with their colorful plumage walked around town. Although the chicken ran from me, the children made it a point to make a detour in their very short walk home to say hello to this strange looking outsider. What a great place to take a short break.
Many hills later, I was finally at the path entrance for Queens Bath with a set of burning thighs. I hailed Lena Rae on channel 71, which is the channel we had been using to communicate. No response. Then I walked around the area and did not see Rob. I walked to the cliff edge and enjoyed the view for a moment, reminding myself of how dumb it was to walk over jagged coral heads with my flip flops.
On my way out, I stopped by the Glass Window Bridge. I tried channel 16. Rob responded! Turns out he was going to leave earlier, but he had a feeling that I was going to show up. He sounded excited to have heard me. We chatted more than we really needed to, enjoying the reunification over the air.
I had originally wanted to get a ride back with him so that I didn’t have to repeat the difficult trip. But hilariously, my folding clown-bicycle was faster than most sailboats. It wasn’t that my bicycle was fast. In fact, it is slow compared to full-sized bicycles. But sailboats can seem excruciatingly slow, barring access for folks who do not have the patience for them. I didn’t want to waste time having him re-anchor and pick me up from the beach. This speed difference gave me some time to explore. I spent some time looking at the mesmerizing waters below the bridge. It was a somewhat run-down, but robust concrete bridge with only one lane. There were areas for cars to park to wait for opposing traffic. Locals in the area told me that people get into accidents here all the time, including driving off the bridge, often because the driver was drunk. This did not make me feel too great about cycling back to Alice Town.
I tried to time my return trip by going a bit slow, but my fatigued legs would do that for me. Unlike my northbound trip, I walked my bicycle up some of the steepest hills. I took another break at Gregory town and made it to Hatchet bay, seeing Rob’s boat come through the harbor inlet before I made the turn to Alice Town. He had just set his anchor when I arrived at his boat on my dinghy. It was good to be reunited for a second time. I joked that we are connected by spirit bubbles at this point, not even having to communicate to make things happen.
We spent the next few days running errands, hanging out with Richard and Bruce at local restaurants, and exploring the settlement. A few memories stand out;
Me and Rob hiked for a few miles along Queen’s Highway looking for the Hatchet Bay cave. I’m not a huge fan of caves, but this cave was pretty cool. There was a part where you can dive under water to get to another spot. Local folks and veteran cruisers told me stories they had about this cave. Unfortunately, much of the cave was vandalized. Pieces of limestsone cut off, with graffiti and writing all over the walls. We heard someone else come in behind us. We thought about doing a jump-scare but decided to do a normal greeting instead. It was a U.S. expat who ran a guide service. He gave us a ride back to Alice Town, but not before showing us a few beaches along the way.
When I was getting ten gallons of water from the local water tap, two little girls aged nine and six ran downhill to talk to me. The older one, Tia, was excited to tell me that their family had the same water jug that a ‘white man on a boat’ gave them. The younger girl, Serenity, echoed her. Serenity said she wanted to take my jug, and tried to lift the very heavy jug. Tia ran through a bunch of questions and stories about her life. They were from Nassau, and they hadn’t been back except to visit their dying grandfather. Then she mumbled what she was really curious about– ‘what kind of man are you?’ She meant where I was from, and what ethnicity I was.
I explained to her that I’m an Asian man that was born in South Korea. She said she had never met a Korean, but that she saw an Indian man once. The education system here must be decent since she could connect that both nations were in Asia. I told her I moved to the US from Korea just like she moved to Eleuthera from Nassau.
The children here are so curious and not shy. They are very forward with whatever is on their minds. They also get to run around and play with other kids from a very young age. Pure, is the word I thought of; somehow purer than city children. I felt fortunate to have that kind of upbringing as well.
One night, all five of us, including Richards eighteen year old son, who had the freedom to enjoy some beers in this county, went to get food and drinks at a place called Twin Brother’s. I heard a man in olive drab fatigues speak in Creole. I asked if he was Haitian, and if he was in the military. He was happy that I noticed his foreign origins. He told us he’s an immigrations officer and he had just gotten a promotion. I think he was even more intoxicated than I was.
He told us a story how he was talking to a woman on the phone, not realizing his girlfriend could hear through the wall. Later that day, she handcuffs him. He thought they were about to have some fun, but she tossed the key and she left. He had to shout at one of his rookies, who lived in the same complex, to come get him. Unfortunately he was in his briefs and he was extremely embarrassed that one of his guys had to see him like that.
I’m not sure if he’s just making things up or if it was a real story — Bahamians will say anything to get a laugh out of you. The veracity of that story aside, I hadn’t laughed that hard in the past few months. He also called Rob a bluegrass viking which got another roar of laughter from us. Everyone except Rob.
Another night, the night before our departure, I cooked Bruce and Rob a spam and rice dinner. We drank and chatted the night away — then made our way over to Twins again to satisfy my big pork craving. I’d been craving pork since Green Turtle Cay and hadn’t been able to find it anywhere. A short while later, I had a Haitian pork dish on my section of the bar-top. I forgot the name of the dish, but I have had the Dominican version many times. This one was spicier and very delicious. In addition, there was a full bottle of Sands beer, a bottle of coca cola, plantains, and a salad in front of me. I also asked for a dessert everyone called ice cream. Except it wasn’t ice cream. I think it was strawberry syrup with soft serve vanilla mixed up in one. My friends get gawked out at my ability to switch between beer, coke, and ‘ice cream’ as well as my insatiable appetite since I already had a meal back on Sonora. I was indeed a hungry boy in the Bahamas.
Everyone on a journey like this wants to keep moving; but everybody understands that friendship is difficult to come by. I think we all held onto moments like this as if it were the dimming light from the last candle remaining. I would remember the memories clouded in drunken laughter for a long, long time.
My last night in hatchet bay, a few thoughts dominated my head. First, I really miss reef diving. We were supposed to sail to the northern end of the Exumas together, so we’d have a lot of chances to go diving. Secondly, I really miss being solo. But I also remember the difficulties of not having a friend with me, so I still wanted to spend as much time with Rob as I could.
I decided that I would talk to him about splitting up when we got to the Exumas the next day. I missed the sheer freedom and independence too much. And I want to spend the little time I have left in the Bahamas at my own pace.
Spearfishing Alone: Freediving and spearfishing can be an exciting but safe activity if you have at least one person watching your back. But if not, it is extremely dangerous. Humans don’t have any gauge to see how much oxygen they have left in their bloodstream. But we have one to gauge how much carbon dioxide we have. Freedivers learn to push through the carbon dioxide reactions to stay longer and experience shallow water blackouts. This isn’t a big deal if your dive buddy, who should be trained in blackout rescues, gets you to the surface. If not, you are almost certainly going to die.
Local Water Tap: Many islands have a reverse osmosis desalination station to provide fresh water for its residents. One station will serve a few different communities.
