Well, we finally arrived at the cruiser's mecca of the Bahamas. At the height of the winter cruising season there may be up to 600 boats seeking safety, refuge, companionship, reprovisioning opportunities, and several months of winter accommodations in Elizabeth Harbour, the large body of water lying between Stocking Island and George Town, Great Exuma Island. Since the "season" is over now we have avoided said congestion, yet by our cruising standards there are still a lot of boats here, perhaps 100. Now we can take up all the anchoring space we need without getting labeled as harbor "pigs".
Harbor overlook
We stopped here for several reasons: it's someplace new to us, bad weather is on the way and we need to seek a safe place, we need to get the extension on our immigration permit and George Town is strategically located on the path of our return trip towards the north. We want to see all the things we've read and heard about.
Community Hotline
At 0800 each morning the cruising community holds a VHF radio "talk show" called a cruiser's net. The net starts off with the weather, foremost on everyone's mind, then follows with local business announcements of cruising interest, cruiser community information, a help needed segment, and cruiser arrivals and departures. People can call in with questions and answers and try to link up with their friends and other boats. For people who are winter residents here, it is really the start of their social agenda each day. They can find out about book and DVD swaps, volleyball games,volunteer projects, board game activities, beach exercise programs, special dining events, sharing cab rides, religious meetings, group discussions about chosen topics and other "must do" activities for the most gregarious souls. No man need be an island in George Town!
Island humor
Red Tape and Carbon Paper Blues
Our first order of business is to get the extension on our immigration permit. It seemed logical to us that the immigration office, usually tied in with the customs office, would be located in the government building, of the obligatory pink color. It is easy to find; it is the largest, cleanest building, and in the center of everything. We see the sign for customs, but not immigration so just assume that it must be the same office since it has been on the other islands we have checked in with in the past. We were second in line, behind someone who was trying to import an important repair part for their boat and really getting the run around from the woman behind the plexiglass wall with the little hole that is at your waist level, but her eye level, making for inconvenient conversation. Finally another woman comes out from behind the closed door and I rush over to verify that we are at the correct location. But of course not, immigration is no longer here, it is at the other end of town now, in a new office building, NOT a government building. Oh, that makes sense, not! Decentralization of government duties being attempted even in this tiny island community doesn't make it convenient for the people who use it the most.
Government Building
Finding the new building was as easy as following one pothole to the next along the only road in town and then looking for the new office building with no architecturally unique island features that glaringly stood out from all the beat up hovels, most of which you can't tell if they are occupied or not. At least the inside of the immigration office was a pleasant tropical peach color with a cool ceramic tiled floor. There were even 3 cafeteria-looking chairs in a bare-walled waiting area that could have easily held 20 of those chairs without being crowded. The 2 people that came in after us just leaned up against the wall.
Colorful island signage
Fortunately the lady behind the counter, on a high stool, with no plexiglass window, was cheerful and helpful. She knew right away what was needed to extend our immigration permits and set out to get the paperwork. "Oh, I'm sorry" the nice lady said, "we only have 2 pieces of carbon paper, so only 2 of you will be able to fill out your papers; the other will have to wait until one of you finishes". No problem, mon, we be in no hurry; we be cruising in the Bahamas. I remarked to the two other people that we had dibbs on all, 2 sheets, of the office carbon paper, and they might have to wait a while. I had already had it on my list for our next visit to bring over some of the coveted legal sized carbon paper in hopes of immediately getting into the good graces of any government official we have to deal with.
Free Enterprise
The remainder of the morning was spent walking around the rest of the town, all of which surrounds Lake Victoria where the large dinghy dock is located, and thankfully well-protected from all the high winds we are experiencing. We browsed through some shops, visited the straw market ladies and their wares, and couldn't pass up a stop at Mom's Bakery van. Mom pulls into town proper 3 days/week selling breads and sweets; we bought a yummy marble pound cake. All of Mom's purchases come with free warm hugs and cheerful praises about how wonderful life is. I picked out the least yellow bunch of celery I could find at the grocery store in the corrugated metal building with no windows (purely functional, no island aesthetic appeal considered in its design) and an extremely overpriced bag of croûtons, a strictly luxury purchase for the guys. The grocery store maintains the dinghy dock and has a hose on the dock for free water for cruisers to fill whatever containers they can carry in their dinghys. Very importantly, the store also lets cruisers dispose of their trash in dumpsters conveniently positioned just past the front door to the store. Out with the old, in with the new in 5 easy steps.
Dinghy entrance to Lake Victoria
Straw market vendor
Regatta sloop
WiFi Rasta Man
After 2 days in the harbor Wayne finally managed to make contact with the operator of Harbor WiFi by reluctantly calling him on the cell phone at $2/minute when reaching him via VHF was unsuccessful. To get connected you have to purchase a "card" from him that has unique log-in and password characters to access the wifi system to get internet connections from your boat at anchor. At only $15/week it's one of the best deals in the whole Bahamas, when it works.
Wayne was told there were no cards this afternoon, come in the morning.
Wayne and I brave the windy, choppy conditions for the long dinghy ride across the harbor to go get the card. What seemed like easy directions, turn off the road by the yellow realty building and look for the antenna, required clarification from a person who I could see sitting in the back of a business with the front door ajar. Up the hill, he said. Up the hill we went, past Munchies, a local Rasta snack shack with strange odors other than food lingering in the air, and several colorfully dressed men with properly coiffed Rasta dos poking out from their knit caps. I said, "WiFi?" And they pointed farther up the road. Ah, we could see the antenna, but it was coming out of a, a what? house? shack? animal pen? abandoned building? I regretted not having the camera (too rainy) because this place is difficult to put into words. There was nothing about it to even suggest it could house anything hi-tech enough to connect the whole boating community to the outside world. There wasn't even a sign, and it wasn't clear that the building had an entrance from the road we were standing in. I told Wayne I would stand out by the road, near the chicken coop (or so I thought) with Ursa while he checked things out. Wayne craned around one side and voiced the inquiring hoo-yoo, hellooo, anybody there? "Just a minute" came from some part of the building. Right about then, a movement from the "coop" caught my eye, a large, scarred nose stuck out followed by a low, deep growl. "Hey Wayne, Ursa and I need to move farther out in the road". Then I could see the front of what was really a set of individual pens housing pit bull variety of dogs, who now could see me and Ursa. A white one got up and starting snorting and barking at my little sweetie. Then, to my other side, under tattered blue tarps, were more pens with more of the same beasts that started singing the same tune. By then the proprietor had come out to the gate and told them all to shut up. One look at his high, conical, colorful knitted cap with the wiry hair poking out from all sides and I dubbed him the WiFi Rasta Man.
Speaking over a chest high gate, WiFi Rasta Man told Wayne that he still hadn't been able to get the cards, but he had all the id numbers off the cards, and he would just write the numbers on the a piece of paper. No problem, mon, we be willing to go along with that. Meanwhile, he is giving Ursa a serious look over. I smile and say "Oh, don't worry she's not here for any competition with your dogs". He says "I like dat dog. How much do one of dem cost?" Then he leaves the gated area to come out to Ursa, slowly bending down to pet her and let her sniff him. No telling what she was smelling, but she was behaving nicely, despite the barking coming from under the tarped pens. He asked several questions about the breed and remarked that "One of dem be good for inside dee house" I asked him if he wanted me to write down the name of the breed so he could get the correct spelling to look it up, but he was confident he could easily find what he needed to know on puppyfinder.com, a website he frequented on a regular basis.
The Other Side of the Harbor
Now that you have an idea about the business side of the harbor, let me tell you about the other side, where we are anchored and like the best, closest to Stocking Island which separates Elizabeth Harbour from the open ocean of Exuma Sound. Cruisers have named all the parts of the island: Volleyball Beach, Monument Hill, Hamburger Beach, Sand Dollar Beach, Holes 0, 1, 2, and 3. Learn the names, so you know where to meet someone.
Meeting place
Stocking Island is tropical eye candy, sweet. The shorelines on both sides range from pure white sand to rocky outcroppings, fun to walk along and beachcomb for treasures from the sea. The hilly (up to 110') verdant land is covered with tropical vegetation of all sorts, from lowland salt pond area species to that which can easily survive a constant windswept environment. A few coconut palms dot the hill sides completing the real out island look. Breathtaking views of Exuma Sound or the harbor await the lucky and energetic cruiser who wants to hike one of the many trails (maintained by the cruising community) that transverse the island, running along the shores or along the spines of the hills.
Tools of the trade
We spent several mornings, dodging rain showers, to hike some of the trails. It would be difficult to say that one is better than another because they all offer something special. Getting across the island to the Sound side at low tide is worthwhile so you can see the interesting onshore reef formations and the sea life in the tidal pools. One trail is a 2.5 mile loop, taking you across the island, along a ridge fronting the ocean shore, down into a lowland area where you have to wade through standing water, all the way to the southernmost point of the island and then along the harbor side, where if you don't time the tide right, you have to wade out into the shallow of the harbor to round the island and complete the loop. We enjoy these walks much more than dodging the potholes and noisy, stinking traffic in town.
Beach reef
Sea urchin
All play and no work can turn FLUKE into a scow, so we keep up with boat chores, rain or shine, mostly rain during our stay here. Eddie (a.k.a. Water Boy) hooked up the roof drains to the water tanks, and we filled them all the way up. We hold 500 gallons and had depleted most of it before our arrival in George Town , so we thought we were going to have to buy water, but that issue has been taken care of. Early one morning when I took Ursa out to do her duty, the port deck drain had clogged up with hair and debris and the water was ankle deep on the port side upper deck all the way to the pilothouse door from the overnight rain. So, while it was steadily raining, I put on the foul weather gear and washed all the outside decks, getting off the salt and accumulated sea grime from a month in the out islands. FLUKE was shining brightly when the sun came out, and it felt so good not to have to walk on the gritty decks. Eddie and I reward ourselves by jumping off the pilothouse roof, 17' above the waterline, and laughing like teenagers when we pop back up to the surface. We argue what makes the biggest splash: my fat butt or Eddie's fat gut! That stunt is an annual tradition, a sure sign we still have the right stuff!
Elizabeth Harbour rainbow
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