Potpourri

June 20 – 23, 2012

The title of this post wasn't named because we've been watching Jeopardy! or have seen Alex Trebek on one of the megayachts that has passed us.  I'm just going to talk about how we came full circle back to the Abacos and some of the sights along the way.

After we departed the Exumas Land and Sea Park, we had a windy ride up to Ship Channel Cay which would be our last stop in the Exuma chain.  The sun never came out, but we didn't have to deal with any thunderstorms and the wind was mostly off our starboard stern quarter, so it wasn't a rough ride.  Our cat comfort gauge never went off, i.e. Visitor didn't throw up.

A lot of cruisers miss taking advantage of using the good anchoring grounds off of Ship Channel Cay when the winds are out of the prevailing easterly direction.  There are even a few nice isolated coral heads nearby for snorkeling to pass the time.  I could only dream about doing that since the sky was too dark, and we wouldn't be there long enough to justify launching the dinghy anyway.

The following day we had a 7 hour crossing to get back to Current Island/Eleuthera area where we had last been on May 21.  We were only in deep trolling water for 1 1/4 hours and just managed to catch a couple of barracuda.  Can you hear the guys yelling?!

We arrived at the area where we wanted to anchor, just north of Current Cut off the settlement of Current, amidst a heavy thunderstorm.  We circled around almost an hour waiting for the rain and gusty winds to abate so we could drop the hook.  3 other small boats had been trying to go through Current Cut, but with the poor conditions, gave up and also ended up anchoring for the night.  They weren't are only neighbors.

A megapair

We have never seen this anchoring arrangement before.  The 180' megayacht on the right was already anchored when we came in.  After the squall line moved through, the sportfish on the left showed up, with the same paint job as its megayacht mothership, and backed up stern to the megayacht and tied off for the night.

After the squall line moved through, it was a nice, cool evening.  Even though we were a mile offshore, I could smell a sweet fragrance in the air coming from the tropical blossoms onshore.  We finally had a starlit night again!

We awoke on June 22 to a forecast for favorable winds and calm seas to allow us to comfortably make the 9 hour passage across the open ocean back to Lynyard Cay at the south end of Great Abaco.  Even though the ocean swell was running 3 – 4' making for a little roll, Wayne was able to make a normal loaf of bread while we were underway.  We trolled the whole way but only caught 1/2 of a big tuna.  We never saw what got the other half, other than all the water splashing up from when it was getting chewed in half.

Since we had departed Current Island area at sunrise, we arrived at Lynyard just after 3:00 so I had plenty of time to get into the water.  I finally finished cleaning the starboard side of the hull.  The port side looks worse than ever, and my scrubbing sponge has seen better days.  I'm not sure I'll be able to get it done.  I might have to put some pressure on the guys!

I wanted to stay in this area another day to snorkel at Sandy Cay,, an underwater preserve, but since it was Friday when we arrived, we would only have Saturday to try to find another clinic to take care of Eddie's ear infection so we had to leave.

Our only choice with our current geographical position was to try to make it to Marsh Harbor, the Hub of the Abacos, early enough on Saturday and hope that we could find a clinic that was open.  If not, it would mean we would be stuck in Marsh Harbor until Monday when we knew the government clinic would be open for sure.

Our armed neighbor

We left right after sun up again to make it to Marsh Harbor well before noon in case the clinic closed at noon.  We had put out a call on the VHF for clinic information, and had a reply from another cruiser that the government clinic was open until 3:00 p.m. The harbor wasn't crowded and we found an area with plenty of anchor room for us to feel comfortable in thinking that we would have to spend at least one night there.  This is the scene of the worst day in the FLUKESTERS' cruising lives (you can read about it in a past blog) so we are apprehensive about anchoring in the harbor with unsettled weather conditions.  We were less than pleased when a sailboat came and dropped anchor closer than we would have liked, even after telling him where our anchor was located.  Who can argue with someone that cruises with a cannon on the deck?!

The usual small workspace

See that metal bracket strap on the right?  That is used to secure one of the stays that holds our mast up.  Remember, we use the boom connected to the mast to hoist our 850# beast of a dinghy which we would need to launch to get to shore.  Eddie discovered that the bracket was loose, so much that there was a gap between the metal and the fiberglass; you could move the bolts with your fingers.  That hole is what you have to reach through to access the nuts that hold on the bolts.  However,  that access hole is not ordinarily visible.  There is a big fiberglass deck box that fills the space in front of it that we keep loaded with gear.  Before the hole could be accessed the deck box had to be emptied and moved.  Nothing is simply done in a straightaway fashion on a boat! 

When the deck box was unscrewed and moved from its wooden mounts, the wall and floor underneath were really filthy, so I cleaned all that and then turned the area over to the guys to  tighten the bolts through the one-hand-only hole.  This is the first time we have had to do that job and even wonder how the bolts came loose in the first place.

When everything was tightened properly, the deck box remounted, all the gear put back, we could then launch the dinghy and try to find a clinic for Eddie, about 1 1/2 miles from the dock. 

After eating an early lunch, it was a hot and dusty walk along the dirty, paved, busy with island traffic, main thoroughfare.  They are in the process of activating their second traffic light, and Marsh Harbor is the only town in the out islands that even has a light.  When we made it to the clinic, it turned out to be closed on the weekends.  We spoke to an employee at the newly-opened kidney center next door and was told a private clinic close to the dock we had first started from was open.

On the way back, I bought a small watermelon off a guy selling them from the back of his pickup truck, so I had to lug that the rest of the journey.  There are a limited number of signs along the streets (they all get blown away from hurricanes, and there are few spaces next to the road to mount them anyway) so after asking another 4 people where the clinic was, we finally found the place (Integrated Medical Centre).  Eddie was admitted with no waiting. 

The first attendant took his blood pressure with one of those standard electric machines that is mounted on wheels and gives a digital display.  It read 85/60, and she just calmly writes it down and gets ready to take his temperature!!  I said “What was that?  That can't be correct because if it is, I'll need to be looking for a cemetery”  Another attendant arrived and took a manual pressure reading and then another electronic one and they were about the same.  They asked Eddie if he was feeling faint or dizzy.  He wasn't, but I remarked that we had walked about 3 miles in the hot, humid weather and Eddie hadn't had anything to drink.  They said the doctor would have to evaluate the BP issue.

The doctor was a boater himself, so we exchanged pleasantries as he examined Eddie.  Eddie had already made up his mind not to squeal during the examination, thinking that the doctor in George Town may have missed some important “sights” when Eddie hadn't let him stick the otoscope all the way in.  This examination revealed that the infection was limited to the outer ear, and the eardrums were intact.  The doctor took his BP again, normal, at 110/65 and attributed the earlier readings to vasodillation from our heated walk.  He prescribed a prescription antibiotic and some eardrops, which required getting filled at a local pharmacy a short distance away.  The doctor also told Eddie not to wear headphones, which he described as “turbocharging” the infection because they reduced air circulation and draining.

Eddie got out of the clinic for $90.  The pharmacy bill was another $43.  Remember, the government clinic visit in George Town was $39 for everything. 

We made it back to FLUKE before the afternoon thunderstorms started their downpour and high winds.  I was glad that it was still daylight so that we could keep our eyes on the other boats, with good reason.  We were also happy that the storm came from the direction our anchor was set, so we felt pretty secure.

Dragging in the rain

This, thankfully small, sailboat began dragging across the harbor and no one was aboard to do anything to try to stop it or redirect its path.  You can see its anchor line and the line of the larger sailboat it is nearing.  Getting hit by another boat is bad, but if the other boat also pulls up your anchor, that can be much worse.

Taking a rest

The small sailboat came to rest alongside the bigger sailboat.  From the radio chatter, both of the boats were owned by locals who knew each other.  The woman resident of the big sailboat sounded like she was well into having had one too many sundowners and was only mildly alarmed to have the small sailboat resting alongside.  When the storm ended, several people showed up in a couple of dinghies to relocate the little sailboat to a new location.

Our insecurity alarm went off at 3:00 a.m. with the arrival of another thunderstorm from the OPPOSITE direction we set our anchor.  All the boats turned around, and we were on red alert to see if our anchor was going to hold.  The guy in the sailboat that had anchored too close to us was up on his deck with a flashlight shining it on us, hoping we didn't let loose and drag right into him.  So were we, and we were really angry that he had jeopardized both of us in the first place.  Fortunately we stayed secure during the 3 hour deluge.

Ironically the next morning, the guy on the sailboat yelled over telling us that when the storm came and reversed the boat positions we were only one boat length ahead of him, and he thought that was too close.  Well, duh, why do you think we said anything to him in the first place when he came in to anchor?  There was all kinds of room farther from us where he could have chosen to anchor.  He said we shouldn't have had out so much chain (125'), not understanding that we have a bow that is 10' off the water compared to his that is 4', and we draw 5 1/2' and have 4 times the windage he has with his sailboat.  In reality the 70' of chain he had out gave him more scope than what we had with our 125'.  We said we were leaving anyway, so he didn't have to worry about having us around anymore.

Harbor giant

There are two large, by out island standards, freighters that service Marsh Harbor.  They bring freight from the states or other foreign ports into the harbor, and then the inter-island smaller freighters, like the mailboats I mention, pick up the supplies from Marsh Harbor to deliver to the out islands.  That's why it is called “The Hub of the Abacos”.

Learning adventure

Several sailing vessels use Marsh Harbor as a base to take young kids out on sailing adventures.  We watched about a dozen teens board this ship.  They will come back different people after their working trip aboard.

We upped our anchor not long after they left the harbor, feeling as happy as the kids were to get under way again.  With high winds and even worse weather in the forecast, we had decided to head to Hope Town harbor and pick up a secure mooring again where we would be well-protected for the turbulent weather so we could sleep more peacefully at night.

Strung out

Eddie decided to “play” with Visitor on the way over to Hope Town.