Living in a Post Card Picture (1/14 Elbow Cay, Abacos)

Time was a blur. I couldn’t keep track of what day of the week it was, and I could not remember how long it had been since an event in my recent memory. I was certain I got here in Hope Town harbor on Elbow Cay yesterday, the thirteenth. But why was it the thirteenth, and not the twelfth? Oh, that’s right. I had missed the departure window, and stayed an extra day at Marsh Harbour.

Despite being forced to mold to the local pace of things, I still tried to pack in activities every day. I hated to see a day go wasted, but sometimes that is just how it was. Having been holed up in my boat waiting for big winds to pass was what was causing this blur. I spent more than a twenty-four hour cycle stuck on my boat, unable to get to shore.

Where we left off; two days ago back in Marsh Harbour, I was doing some work from my laptop while stuck in my boat. I still take clients during the winter when I am off season from my boat cruise business. I’d been slowly doing work for a client, and this was a great chance to get a burst of progress done. So that morning, I got up and cooked breakfast, still in my underwear. There was no one else on the boat, so who cares? I got my laptop out and worked straight through the day. Eventually I put on some sweatpants. My boat rocked a little bit. The winds cut a note through my rigging. I kept typing away. I took a short break and a nap in the middle of the day, then kept working past eleven in the evening.

The bunk that I sleep on is the main bunk on Sonora. It lacks lee-boards and you’re liable to fall off when you’re on the windward side. But its the most spacious and it is the bunk I find the most comfortable. In photos, that bunk area on a Bristol is usually configured as a table with seating for what I feel is appropriate for two or three people. But I rarely use the table. The table top board can be taken down so that it sits flush against the seating, with a cushion on top so that I can sleep on it. That is how it is always, but this was one of those few times it was actually turned into a table. My seaborne and mobile office, if you will.

I’m so glad it kept me busy. Last time I was stuck on my boat for that long, I had gotten really upset. Boats were dragging their anchors everywhere in St. Augustine, and I had lost my laptop to salt water corrosion from my daring and very wet dinghy ride back to the boat. It wasn’t a good time. But this time, time flew and I pumped out a lot of work. After the day’s work was done, I made the foolish decision to start watching Better Call Saul, a decision that I still somewhat regretted two days later.

Thanks to Better Call Saul, I didn’t go to sleep until it was very late and it caused me to oversleep the next day. I had errands to make before I could leave. I made a bank run to get more cash, then I went to Maxwells, Marsh Harbour’s big grocery store. I took my biggest backpack, but returned with an absolutely full of groceries, but also with an extra large paper bag full of stuff. I tried to buy only what was necessary, but I still spent a hundred dollars.

Everything that costs one to three dollars back home costs five dollars in the Bahamas. Everything that costs five dollars costs ten dollars. Everything else is roughly twice as expensive. But the big win is that I found what I call boxed milk. Its ultra high temperature pasteurized milk — shelf stable milk. It keeps for many months without refrigeration. I don’t get why not all milk is UHT milk, because there is no difference in taste. And I’m someone who drinks milk every day! I was down to my last two cartons and I had nothing to eat my chocolatey cereal with. Crisis averted.

On my way back, I noticed that there was a leak from my backpack. Turns out that the bagger placed the tangerines at the bottom of my bag, and it had gotten crushed. I lost about a third of them. It also meant I had to rinse out my bag so that it wouldn’t get sticky. This person definitely did not earn their tip. It still made me more upset than I should be, but I’m getting used to the solo sailor’s wide amplitude of emotions now. No big deal, toss the ruined tangerines, eat one, and rinse the backpack. Scurvy averted. I could always get more fresh water in Hope Town.

Unfortunately, these errands were done too late in the day. By then, I wouldn’t have been able to make it to Elbow Cay with the sun on top of me. You see, its not safe to enter unfamiliar waters without being able to see what’s around you. Especially down here in the Bahamas, where charts aren’t a always accurate. So I didn’t leave until the following day.

The ninety minute motor-sail passage was uneventful. It was a bit bumpy. But I had spent so much time on land and at anchor, it was a great change of pace. I hailed Lena Rae a few times to see if I could raise him on the VHF. Lena Rae was the boat Rob was on — the friend I made at Green Turtle Cay. We were trying to meet up again in Elbow Cay. I was unsuccessful, and I had a feeling it was going to be difficult to meet up with him again without cellular service available. I had a My Island Wifi router (MiFi) but Rob only had service when he is able to get on someone else’s Wi-Fi. I was going to miss him, but its okay. I am getting used to and really enjoying the ultimate freedom of being a single hander.

I had a decision to make. I really preferred to anchor instead of taking up a mooring (and spending the money to do so). The harbor at Hope Town, Elbow Cay was supposed to be full of mooring balls, with no room to anchor. The mooring field itself was supposed to be extremely crowded, as it is a popular cruiser and tourist destination. We had strong westerlies forecasted, which would force me to anchor further south down east of Lubbers Quarters Cay, where I would hope that the small land mass would block much of the wind. But on Saturday and Monday, there was no wind. Anchoring right outside the harbor next to the famous Elbow Cay lighthouse would work well. Despite these options, a part of me still wanted to pay for a mooring so I could have easier access to town. See, less dinghy time means more time of other activities, like exploring. I decided to pick up a mooring for two nights until the winds passed. On Saturday, I’d move the boat outside, then go diving the outer reefs. After that, I’d move the boat down to Lubbers Quarter’s Cay to ride out the next set of westerlies.

The entrance to the harbor was extremely narrow. I don’t think two boats could have fit. If I’d known, I’d have made a Sécurité call on the radio. I shall make one when I leave. And I was glad I was coming in during the day. I saw a sign that read ‘Slow down, you’re at Hope Town.’

Turns out my boat handling skills are improving. The mooring field was extremely crowded. Some of the boats were less than Sonora-length apart. I did half a lap around the field, then picked a hole, and penetrated into the massive bait-ball of boats. I found a nice big mooring ball with a phone number on it, which means it was available for rent. I did not see any dinghies, floats, or bottles tied to it, which signals that the renter or owner was still using it.

All the folks on nearby vessels stared at me. It was as if everyone was hoping I’d mess up so they could yell at me, if you’re the collision victim, or laugh at me, if you are not. Of course, no one really wanted to see an incident happening. I skillfully coasted the boat to a stop right at the mooring ball, picked up the mooring pendant with my boat hook, and spent some time tying a bight to my mooring pendant line. You see, a normal loop on a mooring pendant can saw through as the boat continuously rocks band and forth. You want to tie something to prevent this from happening. Only when I was done with that, I allowed myself to feel that I had finally arrived.

Hope Town had mixed reviews. This village had a population of about 450, which I thought would give similar vibes to Green Turtle Cay. Some folks were saying that this was a must-stop, and others were saying to just pass through. I decided to find out for myself.

After I ran my errands topping off fuel and water, I still had a few hours of daylight left. I got food, walked around the island a little bit, and then tried to go watch the sunset at the lighthouse. The lighthouse was closed. So far, it was a typical Abacos out-island. Cute houses nestled in neatly to a beautiful harbour, with piers and wooden boats at the water front. A tabby cat came out of its hiding spot and asked for pets. The sun started dipping down and those brilliant reflections off the water blinded me in the most sweet way imaginable. So far it was nice, but sadly, I think I was used to this level of beauty. The human race has this remarkable ability to adapt to their environment, and I don’t think it is always for the better. The jury was still out on my review.

With three Better Call Saul episodes marking the interlude, the following day was exploration day. Turns out that one of my mooring neighbors was Richard, the cruiser on Strider who I met at Man-o-war cay. He had wanted to borrow some water jugs, so I went over and dropped them off. I’ve repeatedly mentioned the sense of camaraderie that you feel among cruises, so I will skip that. But it was really good to see him again. I got the impression he was an interesting guy, and I hoped I’d get to know him better at some point. I also noticed a big catamaran named Kairos, that I remember seeing at St. Augustine. Here we were, hundreds of miles and a few weeks away, nestled together in the same piece of water.

This town was really beautiful, but there was something about it that was different from Green Turtle Cay nor Man-o-war Cay. I thought it was so cool how each island is a little bit different, even though it is very common for locals move about and work in different islands. Even the way people cook food is slightly different.

Later in the day, I chatted up with a diesel mechanic working on someone’s generator. He was explaining to me how he is from Man-O-War cay. He told me Hope Town is still more city-like than where he is from, and that he was having a hard time adjusting to the faster pace. I couldn’t tell the difference in pace, as I was from Bangkok, Seoul, San Diego, District of Columbia, and other places that must seem like Mega City One to folks from the out islands. I could see it though, since Hope Town is so close to Marsh Harbour, which was definitely a busier place than the out-islands.

And I am so lucky that so many people here are eager to talk to me, even though it was due to my different skin color. As I mentioned several times, I am almost always the only Asian person around. The last Asian person I saw was back in Freeport. People are sometimes a bit distrusting, but most of the locals are fascinated by me. While there is definite disadvantage to being different, I’m also really enjoying the fact it is really easy for me to get to have real conversations with people who live in the Bahamas.

Interestingly, its not my skin color alone. After all, beauty, or lack of beauty in my case, is only skin deep. Judging by the conversation topics, its also partially because I didn’t grow up in the United States. See, in most other countries in the world, you always worry about what your neighbors and the world’s superpowers are doing. And you get used to being in a nation that is always under the yoke of another, more powerful nation. In the US, we have the luxury of not having to worry about that as much. This common background of feeling somewhat crushed makes you more aware of what is going on in the world, in a specific, identifiable way that is distinct from how you are in the States. I think that helped me relate to Bahamians in some ways, but it also reminded me of how important it is to protect what we have back home.

The other thing about the Bahamas that I think a lot of visitors don’t realize is that its actually a wealthy nation by world standards. Its one of the wealthiest in the Americas. And Bahamians are educated. They tend to be very well spoken, and their education standards are high, surpassing U.S. literacy rates for some limited demographics, according to some sources. I think a lot of visitors don’t take this into account when interacting with local folks.

Speaking of Americans, I ran into some at the Elbow Reef Lighthouse in the morning. I walked up the endless spiral staircase, noticing the old, 19th century machinery on the way up. I enjoyed an absolutely breathtaking view at the top. The western side was white and pink, the color of the Sea of Abaco. The Atlantic side faded into a deep deep blue. Walking around the lighthouse was trippy, because when you got to the windward side, the high winds experienced few hundred feet of the ground wanted to push you back. As you round the apex, it wanted to pull you back. I estimated roughly forty knots of wind speed up there. And the view was picturesque. I cannot overstate this — it was straight out of a postcard, except much better because it was being seen in person. If you visit Hope Town and skip the lighthouse, you are either severely acrophobic, or a fool!

I found out later from the gift shop down the hill that this was one of the three remaining manual lighthouses left in the world. Donations and locals’ effort keep it working, but it was an increasingly difficult lighthouse to keep. Certain items, like the machinery parts or the one-piece storm-proof glass were becoming really difficult to replace as the tradesmen who built these items were no longer around.

At the entrance, there is a huge sign that says ‘Do not enter without a mask,’ ‘Sanitize your hands,’ and ‘No noise.’ On my way down from the top, I heard some Americans entering the lighthouse. They were shouting, giggling, and being obnoxious. I heard one say ‘We don’t have to wear a mask here, there isn’t anyone here.’ It bothered me to see people act like this. How can someone go to another country and act like its their back yard? Even for a nation that lacks humility, I don’t understand how so many folks forget that they are guests in another nation. I saw these people at a restaurant the day before, and it was the same. This wasn’t even about the pandemic, whether they believed in masks, or vaccination. It was just simple courtesy. Here is the kicker: there are signs posted all over the island saying at you need to put on a mask at any public location. Most of the locals heed the signs, though some don’t. Obviously locals were trying really hard to prevent visitors from bringing the virus. Unfortunately, only one out of three visitors I saw seemed to heed the signs.

This was the reason why locals at bigger settlements often gave us the cold shoulder. A lot of us continentals act like we are entitled. I know this place needs our money — a majority of the national income comes from tourism. But people should not act like that entitled them to anything. It only entitles you for what you paid for, and being disrespectful isn’t it. Here is a very simple rule: when you go over to a friend’s parents house for Thanksgiving for the first time, how do you act? That’s how you should act in any foreign country.

I left the lighthouse, but I was not to escape these tourists. At the docks by the lighthouse, I was talking to a fellow cruiser and his young son – he uses a custom wooden sailing dinghy as his tender, and I had seen him sail that thing everywhere. One of the kids from the lighthouse group came down and nervously interrupted me to talk to the sailor, as if his small talk was more important than mine. How his group behaved made me unhappy for hours, until I talked to that diesel mechanic guy I mentioned earlier. That made me happy again.

I know this is an unpleasant topic to talk about at length. But I think its important for all of us to try to change the way we present ourselves to the rest of the world.

Other cruisers and locals alike had recommended me to visit a bar and restaurant on the eastern side of the island, a bit further south from the harbour. It was this outdoor bar and restaurant called ‘On da Beach.’ It looked like an expat place, situated in the middle of a bunch of resort type bungalows, which were yes, located on the beach. I was pleasantly surprised to find it more down to earth and homely than I had expected. The bartender, a Canadian seasonal expat, told me that its a popular spot with the locals too. There were a couple of guys sitting at the bar, talking about how they noticed that masks we often wore these days were made in China. The waves on the eastern side of the island foamed on the beautiful beach, and the onshore breeze blew pleasantly through the outdoor patio, oblivious to the amazing discovery of the bar patrons that China was the world’s factory for everything. I ordered some food and gazed at the Atlantic ocean.

There was a pretty woman sitting with the philosophers at the bar. I thought she was someone’s significant other, but after the guys left, she stayed. I’m usually a little bit shy about talking to women that I don’t already know, but I gathered up some courage and introduced myself. She was a flight attendant for a very wealthy employer. The family took yearly vacations — they flew down to the Bahamas on a private jet, then hopped on their similarly-crewed motor-yacht. They were based at Marsh Harbour, but she had a day off, so she took a ferry to Elbow Cay. She added that the family was extremely fair and good to his employees. It was very interesting hearing about this sort of life. Throughout all this, I was a little bit nervous. I hadn’t spoken to a good looking woman in my age range since I had started this trip– I felt like I was a teenager again. I didn’t know what to talk about, which is silly considering what an adventure I had been on, so I just talked about how amazing freediving and spear fishing has been for me. I invited her to come the next day, since I was fresh out of dive buddies.

What an idiot! What woman would hop on a tiny rubber zodiac and travel miles out to sea, to do a potentially dangerous activity with a man they barely knew? She politely said that it depends on her boss’ schedule, as they had a weather window to fly out tomorrow. But to my surprise, when I was leaving, she stopped me so that she could get my contact information, in case the flight got delayed with the forecasted bad weather. I guess she wasn’t just being polite. And no, I went diving alone the next morning, but it was still cool knowing a woman would at least entertain the thought of going on an adventure with me.

What a wonderful island. Aside from the rude behavior of my fellow countrymen, I had all positive experiences so far. The mixed reviews were correct; by out-islands standards, this was a bit of a touristy island. So I guess seeing some unpleasant tourists was to be expected. Otherwise, Hope town was really as charming as people said it was. And Bahamians here were still very much Bahamians. Even if you were seeking an exclusively ‘old Bahamas’ experience that is only minimally present in Elbow Cay, the views were absolutely worth it. I decided to spend a little bit of time here. Go back to the ‘on da beach’ restaurant if I get a chance, but after the dive tomorrow, I would probably develop an itch to keep moving. Whatever happened, my next stop was going to be Little Harbour, right at the very southern tip of the Abacos island chain. From there, I’ll be headed to Eleuthera!

Sonora’s length – Sonora is 30 feet long