We Made It to the Exumas!

After three attempts to get out of Nassau, Pope has finally fulfilled his dream of cruising to the Exumas, an island chain in the Bahamas, where we intend to enjoy sun, surf, snorkeling, swimming, and sailing. We are overdue for a reward for enduring three months of uncomfortable conditions, engine failures, and hard work. The rebuilt diesel has functioned without incident.
 

Henry and friend John kept us company for a week. Henry watched for coral heads as we cruised through clear shallow water toward the Exuma cays (pronounced keys), or islands.

We swam in warm, clear turquoise water, off white sand beaches. Spotted sharks, stingrays, lizards, and iguanas; snorkeled on coral fans and reef fish like grouper (black stripes), sergeant majors (yellow stripes), and parrot fish (irridescent blues and pinks).

Day 1, Highbourne Cay: Anchored, swam, enjoyed rum cocktails in celebration of our arrival.

Day 2, Shroud Cay: Reconnected with Bruce and Gayleen of the sailboat Pearl. They are the couple who welcomed Pope and me to Bimini two days before Christmas, after our rough Gulf Stream crossing--and convinced me to keep going instead of flying straight home. I was thrilled to see them again.

On Shroud Cay, dinghy ride through mangrove swamp, visit to old well, washed clothes with well water. Swam in “lap pool”—against a strong current in the mangrove creek. Then sailed onward down the Exuma Bank (large shallow undersea shelf) to Warderick Wells Cay, in Exumas Land and Sea Park, a Bahamian national park.

Day 3, Warderick Wells: Amazingly narrow, natural channel just wide and deep enough for anchoring a few boats. Hike in the dunes with a view, snorkeling on coral garden.

Day 4, Crossing to Staniel Cay: 20-mph headwind all day; difficult sailing and grueling motoring.Makes a mess of salt water on the boat, coming in through the seams.

Day 5, Staniel Cay: Hike through tiny town; snorkeling in Thunderball Grotto, underwater cave made famous by Sean Connery as James Bond 007; joined crowds at Taste and Sea cafe for Super Bowl Sunday.

Liquor brought in to the island's two bars by mail boat and then golf cart. Next day, Henry and John left on a tiny plane for Nassau then home. We miss them already. Quiet on the boat!

ABORT * ABORT * ABO … Oh, No! Not again!

(Reposted from January when we finally left Nassau...the third time)

(Pope, Amber, Henry, John on board at Harbor View Marina, Nassau, the day after engine was reinstalled by Albert the Wizard Mechanic and three colleagues)

Pope: Third time’s the charm! Let those lines loose; let’s go to the Exumas.

Crew: OK! Let’s go!

Amber: Rev up the engine here in the harbor, to give it a good test, before we get out to sea.

Pope: OK.

(Sound of RPMs building)

Pope:  Hmm. That doesn’t look good. Temperature’s rising!!

Amber: Wow – 180 degrees. The engine has never been that hot before.

(Pope goes below to open and peer into engine compartment)

Pope:  Uh oh. A hose has blown off! The antifreeze has all leaked out. It’s BOILING in there! Yikes! Back to the slip.

Amber: Well, they say things happen in threes. This is our third attempt to leave Nassau for the Exumas…

(A half hour later; Albert and a colleague are on board, with puzzled expressions)

Second mechanic: I think I know what it is -- the thermostat.

Albert:  Hmmm. I think it’s an air lock in the water heater. What about that valve there and this hose here? Let’s try that.

(Sound of engine purring; Echo II whips out of the slip and into the channel, Albert the Wizard Mechanic at the wheel; after 5 minutes, Albert turns the boat around and heads to fuel dock)

Albert: Let us off the boat. Amber’s going to the Exumas!

Amber: Yahoo!!

(Albert and fellow mechanic jump off; Echo II crew motors out into the harbor, down the channel, and away)

 

Rub A Dub Dub, Three Men In a Tub

Rub a dub dub,
Three men in a tub,
And who do you think they be?
The butcher, the baker,
The candlestick maker.
Turn them out, knaves all three.
     -  English rhyme, 1830 (a later version used in Mother Goose rhymes)

 

Pope’s brother Henry and friend John flew to Nassau a few days ago, in anticipation of catching a connecting flight on tiny Flamingo Air to Staniel Cay, an island in the Exumas chain with an airstrip. To their chagrin, we were still languishing in Nassau. We are now three men in a tub (boat without an engine) and me.

 

We are still only fantasizing about swimming with stingrays and snorkeling over stunning coral reefs. The replacement parts shipped from the U.S. via overnight express—at considerable expense--came with bolts that didn’t fit our engine. Our diesel mechanic, Albert the Wizard of the Bahamas, hired a machine shop to reshape the diameter and threads of the six bolts. The engine MAY actually reappear at our dock in the next 24-48 hours.

 

Meanwhile, the extra manpower, while a strain on our limited accommodations, is a bonus for morale. More people to share the cooking, cleanup, and cost of beer, whiskey, and lettuce. (...OK, so I was fantasizing about the cleanup....)

More people to take turns watching our gear while swimming on Paradise Island.

 

More people to row the dinghy when the outboard engine quits after hitting debris floating in Nassau Harbor.

 

More important is the entertainment value. Nothing like a few knaves to liven up the party! Retelling tales (probably for the hundredth time) about getting in trouble as strapping young men back in Maryland has lifted Pope out of depression and stopped the wringing of hands over the latest engine setbacks.

The large quantities of sunset cocktails—with rum, the Bahamian favorite--may have also helped!

 

 

 

 

Hiccups in the Throat of the Ocean

Dear readers:  a few weeks ago, I regaled you with the suspenseful tale of crossing the 9,000-foot-deep Tongue of the Ocean at night. Exciting stuff.

It pains me to admit that Amber & Pope’s Extraordinary Adventure has degenerated into Life at a Gas Station. Instead of tossing us down its gaping throat, the ocean has lodged us, like a lump in its throat, in the constricted channel at Nassau. The latest hiccup in the engine repair is that the bolts that came with the replacement crankshaft don’t fit our flywheel.  

We have been here 25 days. Occasionally, Pope gets agitated and I get depressed. As my friend Linda keeps reminding me, however, there are compensations to being stuck here:

1. We didn’t drown. Every day I sit in the sun and give thanks to Mother Earth.

2. Our friends and housesitter are shoveling snow, cleaning house, trudging to the grocery store, and performing their normal jobs, interspersed with huddling by the radiator or shivering under the blankets, tussling with colds and flu. We are also hard at work: today I cleaned the oil and slimy biofilms out of the bilge and washed throw rugs in a bucket. Pope repaired an anchor clasp and sail guides. But…. It’s 70 degrees. We are wearing shorts and T-shirts. We are healthy. We have no deadlines, and nobody’s standards to meet but our own.

3. It’s cloudy now. But before long, the sun will pop out and dry the rugs and the boat. If the wind calms down, we’ll row the dinghy across Nassau Harbor to Paradise Island and walk to the clear turquoise blue beach. Pope’s brother Henry arrived Wednesday. Since we can’t take him snorkeling in the Exumas as planned, we will entertain him Nassau-style.

4. Since Henry arrived, we bought a freshly caught hog snapper from a gnarled old fisherman and paid an enterprising young man to clean it (total $15). We bought two conchs off a boat and paid a friendly woman in a carry-out lunch shack to fry it up (total $10). Today, when the boats come in about 3:30 or 4:00, Pope and Henry plan to buy Bahamian cracked lobster (brown polka-dotted critters sized midway between lobster and crawfish). Tofu, vegetables, and whole wheat cous-cous are available across the street at Fresh Market, a Whole Foods take-off.

5. I’m reading books and taking yoga classes on Paradise Island; the ashram provides a free boat to get there. I’ve been to a Toastmasters club meeting and, if we stay another week, can do it again.

We may be stuck in the constricted throat of the ocean, with occasional hiccups disturbing our equilibrium. But overall, the life goes down easy.

Seeing Nassau: Amber's Excellent Adventures (Finally!)

This (see diagram) has pretty much been our life the last two weeks. Time to branch out, get out and about!

Though Nassau wasn’t our destination, there are worse places to be stuck.

The sewage stinks as it’s dumped into the harbor. Trash lines the streets. Locks and bars on the shops and serious barbed wire corroborate the headlines about shootings and robberies. Half of the buildings downtown are boarded up.

On the bright side, the sun shines. There are 11 beaches on New Providence Island and six across the bridge on Paradise Island. People say “good morning” and help you find your bus. Bus drivers go out of their way to drop you at your destination.

Once we got the engine out, and the boat cleaned up, I enlarged my focus. No reason to let my mind turn to mush lollygagging about the dock. Let Pope handle the diesel mechanics. Time for a vacation.

 

I took a wonderfully relaxing yoga class and vegeterian meal at the Shivananda ashram, which I discovered 30 years ago on another trip to Nassau, while walking up the beach from a hotel on Paradise Island. I’ve always wanted to return.

 

I walked the beaches and swam at two that seemed relatively clean—Nirvana Love Beach and Jaws Beach (where Flipper 3 was filmed), both on the west coast.

 

Judy and Dave from the sailboat Wren joined Pope and me to see ruins from the colonial and Lucayan periods at Clifton Heritage Park, on the southwest corner of the island.

 

We stopped at the Fish Fry, a strip of conch restaurants, and ate peas and rice and guava duff on a windy balcony.

 

Pope and I strolled to two forts from the British colonial period.

 

Today, I was welcomed as a guest at the meeting of Achievers of Excellence Toastmasters club, which meets at Princess Margaret Hospital in downtown Nassau. A few customs different from ours: banging on the table in lieu of clapping hands; addressing each other by last name--I was "Toastmaster Jones"; formal parliamentary rules used at the meeting, including taking minutes and approving them.

Tonight, happy hour at a boaters' restaurant near the docks.

 

 

 

 

Social Sunday, and Significant Setback

The shipment of engine parts from New England to Florida to Bahamas was incomplete. Our mechanic will start over Monday.

NOW it's really getting depressing here. Another week of gasoline and sewer fumes. (Besides, I have a rum hangover; read on. Sunday was a beautiful day for sailing south to the Exumas. The sailboats that aren't members of the Broken-Down club left ealy in the morning. 

To cheer ourselves up, we turned to social nourishment--friends in Nassau.

We met up with friend Carole from Washingtion, DC, and girlfriends--the Bahama Mamas (Mary, Carole. Maureen, Marjorie). They are lodged in a beautiful villa at Sunrise Beach on Paradise Island. with beach, pool, and lush gardens. 

Carole graciously agreed to carry a few items home--the broken camera (I will get it repaired back home) and winter clothes I needed on the freezing trip down.

Then, rum cocktails on Echo Ii with crew of other sailboats. Judy and Dave's engine repair on Wren is now completed, and they will leave when a weather window opens. Likewise, Bruce and Gayleen of Pearl dropped off their visiting family at the Nassau airport and are waiting for favorable winds to move on.

Maybe we will see some of them later in the Exumas. We are putting our faith in the Wizard of the Bahamas (see earlier blog post).

"Your Wish is Granted": The Wizard of the Bahamas

Written with Pope Barrow, Guest Blogger

"Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain," boomed the ethereal voice in the movie. But we did.

 

Last week, our beloved antique boat engine was expropriated by the Bahamas equivalent of the Wizard of Oz--Albert Cartwright, master mechanic.

 

We are now "landlocked" in Nassau Harbor, at a gas station (see previous blog post) where fishermen bring in their catch.

We have been inducted into an elite cadre of cruisers known as the Broken-Down Boat Club. Membership in this elite yachting organization requires that your boat be immobilized, defunct, as a mode of transportation. Your engine or other parts must be totally or partially destroyed, and—just as important—you must have surrendered your entire life savings to the powerful and all-knowing Diesel Wizard of Oz (or equivalent in the metal-working or sail-making businesses; they all have children headed for college, you know!). Once you have satisfied these requirements, you are in the club and can start drinking rum at noon.

After Albert removed the engine and discovered a junkyard of broken parts inside, including this abraded crankshaft, we began a worldwide search for the rare pieces needed for restoration.

 

 

This involved sending smoke signals (no cell phone service here on the dock) to friends, acquaintances, and businesses in Colorado, California, Maryland, Wisconsin, Florida, and England. (Oh wait, maybe that smoke was from Pope burning Amber's copper-bottom pan, trying to make stove-top bread.)

 

Between all our contacts and the secret contacts of the Wizard of Oz, our wish was granted: we discovered that two M20 Universal crankshafts remained on the planet. (A special thanks to Mike Tabor, Homer Lang, Henry Barrow, Mark Anstey, and Dave Gershwin, who helped scour the planet, i.e., their sources in the diesel engine world). Some had additional helpful suggestions, such as sinking the boat and collecting insurance, or duct-taping an outboard engine to the stern.

After days of searching in vain, it was, in the end, Oz who tracked down the elusive crankshaft, in the back room of a New England Kubota  tractor dealer. Oz is not the most famous mechanic in the Bahamas for nothing. He has his mojo going.

The parts were shipped overnight express (further slimming our wallet) to Florida. If Customs decides to cooperate, the parts could soon be on their way to Nassau. Then we stuff the old ticker back into the heart of our boat, click our heels together, and Echo II will be on the move again! We live in hope. (At least Pope does. Amber has resigned herself to finally getting a relaxing vacation and is over on Paradise Island, practicing yoga.)