When we returned to Epicurus, Peter and I got busy preparing for our trip. We filled the tank with fresh water and, since the decks were filthy, we washed them down as the sun was setting. (We usually just wait for heavy rain, but Bonaire is a desert, so there was never anything more than a few sprinkles.) After dinner on board, we strolled one last time along the waterfront as Peter and the kids enjoyed ice cream. Peter went to clear out at customs and immigration and retrieve our flare gun as I got the kids settled down for the night.
April 20, 2008 (Sun.) – It took us the entire morning to get ready to sail. Peter put up the jack lines for harnessing ourselves to the boat at sea and did mechanical and electrical checks. I put up the lee sheets on the beds, made sure everything was well secured below decks, and retrieved the life jackets from the lockers. The kids and I went to the supermarket and bought meat, cheese and fruit pastries for breakfast and the journey. Together, we made a stack of sandwiches for the passage because sometimes it is too uncomfortable down below to spend time preparing or cooking food while under way. Peter sent off some e-mails; I called my brother Terry to let him know we would be out to sea a couple days. By the time we were almost ready, it was nearly time for lunch, so Katya and I went back to store for pastries for lunch and to spend our last Netherlands Antilles guilders and stopped at the bank to get American dollars to spend in the Dominican Republic.
Right before 1300 hours, we cast off from the dock of Bonaire Nautico Marina and headed north. I was a bit anxious about traveling such a long distance with only two of us to stand watch, but my anxiety level was much lower than it has been in anticipation of previous crossings. The autopilot appeared to be working and we hoped that it would at least last through the next couple days and nights.
As we sailed past the northern point of Bonaire into the open sea, the sea became a bit choppy. However, after a couple hours, it became calm, and the sailing was really pleasant. There was a full moon, and visibility was excellent. I borrowed Katya’s iPod for night watch and was still going strong four hours later when Peter woke up and was ready to take over. There was one ship in the night on my watch; otherwise, we sailed in isolation and quiet over the depths of the Caribbean Sea.
April 21, 2008 (Mon.) – We sailed all day, seeing only a couple other vessels. The skies were cerulean with a few drifting clouds, the sea was cobalt and smooth. We passed the time reading and playing backgammon, chess and Scrabble. (I even played a few backgammon games against myself when Peter was sleeping.) The wind remained fairly constant at 16 knots until the afternoon, and we were sailing on a close reach at nearly 8 knots.
The wind began to drop as the afternoon progressed, and Peter started considering the option of the spinnaker which we had never used. In fact, neither of us even had any experience with spinnakers on other boats at all. By mid-afternoon, the gentle breeze became a light breeze, so we hoisted the bright blue, red and white spinnaker and released it from the sock. The design is lovely, and we admired it greatly, even though the red and blue pigments had bled a bit on some of the white areas. At 10-12 knots, we were flying along at 8 knots. The weather appeared to be settled and the moon was bright, so we decided to leave it up all night. Throughout the night and the next morning, the wind was around 9-10 knots, and we glided across the flat, calm water at over 7 knots with the spinnaker billowed out in the lead and the staysail adding stability.April 22, 2008 (Tues.) – I was prepared to awoken by Peter sometime in the middle of the night for watch and was surprised when I opened my eyes to bright sunshine. Katya had stood watch for an hour, giving Peter, who needs little sleep, enough rest, and I had been left undisturbed. With the autopilot working, standing watch does not require steering, just keeping an eye out for other vessels or adverse weather in the night and making sure the autopilot doesn’t fail, so anyone can do it.
In the early afternoon, the wind dropped down to 7 knots and then continued to die. At 1400 hours, we furled the spinnaker and were forced to start the engine. We would have continued on through the night to the north coast of the Dominican Republic if we had wind, but the quiet sailing had been so pleasant that we didn’t want to mar the tranquility by motoring throughout the night. Not heeding the advice not to enter an unknown anchorage or harbor after dark, at 1900 hours, we headed in along the well-marked channel to the marina at the developing Cap Cana resort, a sophisticated, up-scale place reflecting nothing of the culture of the country. It could be in any tropical location in the world with white sand beaches backed by palms. The dock hands were helpful, and the guy from the navy waited patiently to get information on us and our vessel. Our Spanish studies helped me communicate en poco.After we cleared customs and immigration, a golf cart whisked us away to an Italian restaurant, where we enjoyed a nice meal before walking along the winding walls of the dredged channels back to our boat.
April 23, 2008 (Wed.) – We spent the day and another night at Cap Cana Marina because we would have had to get up quite early to make the next run before dark, and we felt like sleeping in. Peter worked on drawings for our new mainsail and I taught Matthew and Katya. I started doing laundry in our semi-functional washing machine and drying it in the dryer because the marina rules do not allow for laundry hanging on the lifelines. (How déclassé!) Peter told me there were laundry facilities by the fuel dock, but it was far from our slip, and he hadn’t checked out the cost, so I continued the old-fashioned way. We went to the fuel dock around 1700 hours to fill up the tank, and my survey of the laundry room revealed that the four new washers and four new dryers did not require any tokens or money. Of course, none of the clothes I had washed so far were dry, so I filled all four dryers and proceeded to throw all of our towels and sheets in the washers for a more thorough cleaning than my manual labor can produce.
We just stayed on the fuel dock for the night rather than move back to our slip since we could get away from it more easily in the morning without the help of dock hands.
April 24, 2008 (Thurs.) – Around 0800 hours, we cast off. The wind was never above 7 knots, so we motored to Bahia de Samana. The navy only allows pleasure vessels to go to selected places, so we were supposed to go directly to Santa Barbara de Samana. However, in the early afternoon, we encountered rain showers as we headed north. These turned to thunderstorms, with loud bangs and flashes of lightning all around us. The front was actually moving away from us at first, but as it gained power, it turned back on us. We altered course to steer away from the worst of it the best we could. The rain was torrential, and water came through hatches which had never leaked before. Water also leaked into Matthew’s cabin through a small, inadequately sealed cable hole from the instrument panel in the aft cockpit.
We tracked the lines of showers on the radar for the next couple hours. Fortunately, there were no more thunderstorms in our vicinity, although a couple more waves of rain passed over us.
We dropped anchor around 1700 hours off the town of Miches, just inside the large bay of Samana. While we were still tidying up on deck, a small wooden boat with three men roared out from the dock in the small town and identified themselves as the navy. One was toting an automatic rifle. They came on board and down below to get out of the rain. We explained that we had stopped because the storms had slowed our progress and we would not be able to make it to Santa Barbara (usually just referred to as Samana) before dark. At first there was some confusion due to language differences regarding where we had come from and where we were going (They had it backward.), but after we all managed together to straighten out the misunderstanding, they smiled and wrote down all the information they needed on a blank sheet of white paper, as the navy and customs and immigration had done in Cap Cana. The agencies don’t seem to have any forms. The navy doesn’t seem to issue uniforms either. Only the navy man in Cap Cana had one, but not anyone else. So, we had to assume that men in t-shirts and jeans or shorts and baseball caps, with one carrying a loaded weapon, were legitimate officials and not thieves when we invited them on board! As they got back in their boat, they asked Peter for cigarettes and seemed unprepared to cast off our stern until we offered a token gift for their services. Having no cigarettes, we delighted them a bottle of rum from Curacao.
April 25, 2008 (Fri.) – We had been told the previous evening that we needed to be on our way to Samana by 0800 hours, but no one bothered us to move. We took our time and pulled up anchor around 0900 hours. The skies had cleared, but there was still no wind of any significance, so we motored for four hours to the well-protected harbor of the town of Samana. Once again, a boat darted out from shore with five men, including one with a gun again. The blank piece of white paper came out and they copied the information they needed from our ship’s registration documents and our passports. After they left, we took our dinghy into town to eat, buy provisions, get local currency, and explore. The small grocery store didn’t have a lot to offer and we were too hungry to explore very far. We stopped at a waterfront café and had something to drink and then returned to our floating home after a brief expedition across a pedestrian bridge to two small islands. The many-arched structure must have been part of an elaborate development plan for tourists and locals. There is a resort hotel near the beginning, but it appears to be more recently constructed than the bridge, and the bridge, although safe, is not in good repair. The view of the town from the bridge is picturesque, and looking over the sides to the water about 50-100 feet below, we saw an abundance of large, orange sea stars, something we had not found in our travels since last year.
April 26, 2008 (Sat.) – After breakfast, we went to town again. While Peter went to deal with the officials for clearing out of the country, the kids and I walked along the waterfront and then into the true heart of the town. We were looking for a market which we had read about which offered local fruits and vegetables from vendors’ stalls. Before we made it, we were greeted on a street corner by a man on a scooter pulling a rickshaw type conveyance. (He was one among many dozens serving as taxis.) He wanted to persuade us to take a tour of a nearby national park to view the Limon waterfall. (This had been offered to us as soon as we reached the dinghy dock yesterday.) I communicated that I had to meet with my husband before making any decision, although I was disinclined to take this overpriced jaunt. He nicely offered to give us a ride to the market for free, obviously trying to keep us as his customers for future lucrative projects. It was only a couple more blocks, although we didn’t know that, and the ride in a rickshaw was fun.
The marketplace was colorful and vibrant and crowded. The first thing we saw were disorganized piles of clothes which local people sort through and make offers on. The clothing comes from the US and Europe and represents the types of items that retail stores, even Goodwill, can’t sell. I presume that the first-world country companies get a tax benefit for donating them to an NGO, which distributes them to locals to be used as the basis for these open-air retail operations. They serve to stimulate the economy and provide clothing simultaneously. We walked past tiny shops opening up directly onto the sidewalks and streets, both of which were jammed with vehicles including pick-ups from which produce was sold. We wove our wave past the people, shops and vehicles and found a large, central, covered marketplace where the best produce seemed to be available as well as freshly slaughtered (right before our eyes!) and butchered cows and pigs and fish in the process of being gutted. The heads of all these animals were left for roaming, mangy dogs to feast on.
Inside the main market, there was an abundance of fruits and vegetables, mostly in bright reds, greens, oranges and yellows, as well as large burlap sacks of grain, particularly rice. We probably paid twice as much as the locals for the produce we bought, but we were naïve retail targets, and I just can’t seem to get into bargaining mode. Even so, the ripe, fresh produce was cheap.
Our friendly rickshaw driver took us back to the dock, where we met Peter at 12:30. The man tried to persuade Peter to take the waterfall tour the next day, but we told him we had plans to sail out of the harbor later that day. We did retain him to pick us up in hour to take us back to the market.
We had an enormous and delicious lunch on the waterfront at a café where we picked what we wanted from the freshly cooked food displayed behind glass, cafeteria-style. There were some unusual and yummy dishes, including one made with an unknown squash and another with green-colored rice combined with small pieces of vegetables and herbs. With the drinks, our meal was under $20. It was pleasing not to be overcharged just because we look like rich Americans.
Later in the afternoon, we crossed the green waters of the bay to its southern shore and anchored in Bahia de Lorenzo in Haitises National Park. As we approached, we noticed that palms marked the interface between the land and the water, but behind those rose dark green, thickly covered, lumpy hills, indicating underground collapsing of the porous limestone. Bahia de Lorenzo is quite big, and there are no settlements there. Only two other boats were at anchor. It was peaceful. Birds glided in to roost in the trees around sunset. As darkness descended, a chorus of chirping insects and frogs with their deep, hollow, woody vocalizations filled the air. Phosphorescence glistened on the tops of ripples in the waters and around the perimeter of our boat. We were far from civilization, and Peter reveled in it.
April 27, 2008 (Sun.) – After breakfast, we took off in our dinghy to explore and visit the Cueva de la Linea, which is noted for pictographs made centuries ago by native people. Tour boats bring groups of tourists from Samana, but there was no one else around when we entered the cave. The only disturbance to the tranquility was the psssssst made by the forward baffle of our dinghy as it hit the oyster-encrusted pier of the dock. We approached a bit too quickly, forgetting the warning in one of our guidebooks about the risk to inflatables in the narrow channel through the mangroves. Luckily, there are three separate baffles, so we could continue to use the dinghy if no one sat on the front.It was our intention to leave from the Bahia de Lorenzo for the Turks and Caicos in the afternoon. Indeed, we set out on our route, but we encountered squalls while we were still in the middle of Bahia de Samana, so we went back to our anchorage by the town and waited until the morning.
April 28, 2008 (Mon.) – Although the winds were favorable, that’s about the only good thing that can be said about this day’s sailing. There were storms around us, but we did not encounter anything other than scattered showers. Although we had some sunshine part of the day, the atmosphere was mainly gloomy and overcast. The endless seas were slate blue and dull. The NE swells and the SE wind waves made life on board most unpleasant. We were rocking and lurching continuously. In the cabinets in the galley, bottles, cans, glasses, pot and pans and other items were constantly banging and clanging. Imagine, perhaps, being in an earthquake for 27 hours. Imagine the physical instability, mental fuzziness and visceral nausea of being very drunk or very sick. Imagine an interminable period of boredom.
Peter actually felt fine and was enjoying himself. Matthew spent most of the time in the forward cockpit and couldn’t eat. Katya of the cast-iron stomach was a bit sick at first but managed to rally and stayed below decks to watch DVDs and stagger around the salon listening to her iPod a lot of time. I tried to sleep as much as possible simply to avoid being conscious of my discomfort, but sleep eluded me most of the time until I finally vomited in the early evening. My stomach felt a bit better, but my emotional state was similar to that which accompanied the 24 hours of labor for Matthew’s birth, during which I also irrationally begged Peter just to make it stop!
April 29, 2008 (Tues.) – Needless to say, I only spent about an hour on watch. Katya helped Peter a bit in the night, but otherwise he was on his own and never complained. He can amuse himself by adjusting the trim of the sails a half turn on the winch or altering course slightly to take full advantage of the wind angle. During the early morning hours, he discovered that a bird was hitching a ride on the grill off the stern rail. It flew away at sunrise. Did it know where it was? Did it realize that its perch was mobile, and did it wake up confused and wondering where its family and friends were? Who knows what goes on in the minds of sea birds, if anything!
Finally(!), we saw the Turks and Caicos and we stopped at the first possible anchorage, on the leeward side of Big Sandy Cay at 1100 hours. It was a bit rolly, but it was heaven compared to the living hell of the passage. Peter finally got some sleep, and I hung up almost every towel we have on the lifelines. They were put to use over the seat cushions to soak up the water left by the torrential rain in Samana and to sop up leaks from the hatches that occurred during the trip. I also cautiously opened the galley lockers and put things back in place.
Matthew and I played some chess while Peter and Katya were sleeping. I woke them up later in the afternoon. Peter and I swam to shore, encountering a large southern stingray on the way. The beach is lovely, and we found many beautiful shells, large and small, which we brought back as souvenirs.
Listening to the meowing of catbirds, we all went to bed earlier than usual that night and slept really well.
April 30, 2008 (Wed.) – After breakfast, we pulled up anchor and sailed under very pleasant conditions for four hours to Cockburn Harbour on South Caicos, using only the spinnaker. The waves were minimal, and the kids were able to stay below and Peter and I played Scrabble in the aft cockpit.
We anchored north of Long Cay and took the dinghy to town to clear in with customs and immigration. The town is small and quiet. The streets are paved, but horses roam freely along them. There is one small grocery store where we found little that we needed other than Diet Coke, for which I was thankful. Peter and I spent around an hour snorkeling over the beautiful reef near our boat. There is an amazing variety of shallow coral—forest green, burnt orange, magenta, lemon yellow, scarlet, ochre-- the healthiest and most diverse we have seen since Great Inagua. The fish are not as abundant as they are in Bonaire, but we spotted a big nurse shark and some large lobster, one of which seemed to be lacking some of its appendages. There were a lot of neon blue chromis darting around the coral, and we also saw a striking black and white juvenile spotted drum with its long, trailing fins, dancing like an Arabian woman with scarves billowing around. Also, there was an orange-spotted filefish, not to mention an orange filefish and two porcupine fish hiding under a ledge. Once again, we found fish we had not met before. We tentatively identified as a mutton hamlet, camouflaging itself by staying in a motionless, vertical position beside a tube sponge; with various shades of mottled green and yellow, it had bright red ventral and anal fins.
The distinctive protruding spiny brows over the eyes and the elongation of the body into a tube-like shape from which the long, blunt-ended fan tail emerged helped us identify a large cowfish which was also new to us.
The sun set in glorious shades of pink and violet, turning the surface of the rippling water into a sparkling blanket of blue and purple as we swam back to the boat.
May 1, 2000 (Thurs.) – I awoke much earlier than everyone else and enjoyed the solitude and quiet on deck as the sun was rising. After breakfast, Peter started to tackle the dinghy repair and we got on with school. Before lunch, we put on our skins and started swimming for the colorful reef nearby. In the lead, I noticed that there was an extremely strong current which we hadn’t encountered the previous evening. I went back and advised Peter to use the kayak to transport the kids. Matthew decided to swim with me, but it was tough, and Peter came to us in the kayak after he dropped Katya off on the reef. Matthew’s mask had broken and he was using a spare, but it leaked. I let him borrow mine, but it was not a good fit. Katya has been complaining that everything looks brown and is unable to keep her mask from fogging up. I realized that it is too small for her. I bought a new mask for myself in Bonaire, but now one of my fins is splitting. It’s time for new equipment for most of us, I think.
Matthew and I swam part of the way back to the boat. I pointed out a large southern stingray almost totally covered with sand on the bottom in about 8 feet of water. We could detect his outline, and his gills and tail were above the sand. We also saw a number of barracuda, including two swimming together, circling me for a while! Yet another newly identified (by us) fish was found: a sand tilefish a foot or two long. This slender, pale fish digs a burrow in the sand and coral rubble and hovers over or near it. When approached, it disappears into its hole.
In the mid-afternoon, we hauled in the anchor and set off for the western end of Long Cay. We were planning to go to the next small group of cays, but the anchorage there offers no protection from the NE, and that was the direction the wind was coming from. In fact, it picked up strength, and well before sunset the wind had sustained speeds between 20 and 25 knots, which did not abate throughout the night. On the Beaufort Scale, this is called a strong breeze, but I thing the term “breeze” seems too benign for what sounds and feels intense and a bit ferocious. It constantly whistled through the rigging and buffeted the dodgers and biminis and slapped waves against the hull. Nevertheless, we were well-anchored and safe, with our bow into the wind and waves, so we were not rocking from side to side.
May 2, 2008 (Friday) – In the morning, Peter was anxious about crossing the Caicos Banks because it was cloudy, but the wind was lighter and the skies cleared by 0930, so we pulled up anchor. We motorsailed even though the wind was favorable at 15-17 knots; if we had had to maneuver quickly and precisely around coral, the engine would have given us better control of our speed and direction. Visibility was wonderful in the 10-30 feet of the bank, so eyeball navigation was easy and we didn’t have to make any abrupt or unexpected maneuvers. The skies were blue above us while all along the 360 degrees of the far horizon clouds were clustered. The bases of the cumulus clouds, which are usually gray, were pale aquamarine, reflecting the intense hue of the pure water below them. Everything around us was diffused with vibrant light. Even our egg-shell colored head sails were tinged with turquoise. Three times dolphins danced around us during the passage, their sleek, dark forms distinct and graceful in the clear green-blue sea. The contrast was striking, as we usually see them in the open ocean where they are not as visually highlighted in the darker waters.
Peter got out the Cuban hand line again using new tackle he had bought in Bonaire. He had several bites. The first time the fish won and took the lure, hook and weight with him. It didn’t take long to reel one in, though. Peter caught a 12-inch bar jack. This fish has an iridescent blue bar running along its dorsal edge on either side and continuing on to the bottom of the forked tail fin, making a graceful arch. This bright color faded slowly. Surprisingly, the bar turned into a prism of color before it became pale and unremarkable.
We exited the banks near French Cay, where we anchored for the night. The sea floor plunges dramatically from the shallow banks to over 500 feet. The demarcation is clear and colorful; looking astern from the deep water, we could see distinct parallel ribbons of green, blue and violet separating the turquoise banks from the deep cobalt blue sea. With plenty of depth, we cut the engine and sailed smoothly along on a broad reach.
Although the environment was lovely, the holding for anchors was not. Our Bruce anchor held because it wrapped around a rock, but Peter was afraid that increased wind would cause the boat to drag. The beach looked so inviting that we decided to deal with the situation later. We kayaked in to the shore. The sand was soft and littered with shells and coral rubble. The water was calm and warm, and Matthew enjoyed playing in the sea while Katya paced the length of the beach many times. Peter and I looked for shells and found a great variety of beautiful conch, whelks and other shells.
Had we realized how difficult re-anchoring would be, we wouldn’t have put it off. We made six or seven attempts before we found a place where the anchor would hold. The wind was up to 20-25 knots again as the sun set and the light faded and our level of frustration rose. I was imagining the options: drifting all night or deciding to pick up and night-sail to our next destination. Fortunately, success came at last in 7 ½ feet of water in the dark and we were able to rest at anchor in only slightly rolly seas.
May 3, 2008 (Sat.) – Because the anchorage off French Cay was a bit bouncy since the island was not high enough to stop the 20-25 knots of wind, we took off at 8:30, after breakfast, hoping to find better protection on the lee side of West Caicos, which has an elevation of about 80 feet. Unfortunately, it was even more bouncy and rocking than French Cay, with wind waves and surge. The skies were overcast, so we did not feel comfortable re-entering the banks for shelter, since coral heads would not be clearly visible without enough sunlight. We decided to have lunch and move on to the Bahamas, a decision made easier by the fact that we were cruising along at about 9 knots on a broad reach.
With sandwiches ready, we sailed away from the Caicos at 1330 hours, and the overnight sailing was much easier than the trip from the Dominican Republic. The interval between the swells was greater and the seas were not confused. Although not as serene as the sail from Bonaire, it was pleasant. Because we hadn’t planned to leave when we did, it was the middle of the night when we encountered Mayaguana, Acklins and Crooked Island, so we passed them by. I was feeling so well, I was able to stand watch for about 4 hours. In fact, I sent Peter back to rest some more when he woke up and came to relieve me after just a couple hours.
May 4, 2008 (Sun.) – When the wind speed decrease to 15-18 knots, by mid-morning, we hoisted the spinnaker for better speed. We arrived and anchored at Port Nelson on Rum Cay in the Bahamas around 1500 hours, leaving the royal blue deep seas for the aquamarine shallow shelf around the island. The kids had homework to do, but Peter and I did a bit of snorkeling on some nearby coral. Noteworthy on this reef exploration were an ocean triggerfish, which has nearly symmetrical dorsal and anal triangular fins set at right angles to the body, looking like sails. Also, there were some yellowhead wrasse; their canary-colored forebodies are separated by a broad black band which encircles their middle, with various shades of iridescent green, blue and violet in horizontal stripes tapering down to their tails.
May 5, 2008 (Mon.) – It was overcast when we awoke, and there were only short periods of sunshine throughout the day. We were going to continue north to Conception Island, but storms with thunder and heavy rain set in before we got underway, so we stayed anchored by this beautiful little island rimmed with fine white sand beaches for another day. It cleared before sundown, and Peter and I went for a swim in the warm water as the surface turned shades of purple and pink.
May 6, 2008 (Tues.) – There was not enough wind to sail, so we motored for nearly four hours to Conception Island, finding it to be one of the most beautiful places we have ever been. We anchored between the pristine, long white beach, starkly contrasted with the turquoise water and green trees behind, and a large reef. We could easily swim to shore to walk or to the coral to snorkel. Katya took a long walk. Peter had to repair Matthew’s mask, and then the two of them joined me on the reef. They didn’t stay in the water as long as I did. It was so stunning that I swam and floated until my mouth was tired of clenching my snorkel.
The water was pure and clear and visibility was astounding. The predominant colors of the various species of stony coral--fire, lace, brain, pillar, branching, plate, sheet and flower--were shades of ochre, gold, vermillion, khaki, olive, tan, and chartreuse with occasional orange and scarlet highlights. Large sea fans and other gorgonians with bright purple branches abounded. Pure white sand surrounded the reefs in gentle patterns of ridges and troughs and reflected the honeycomb pattern of ripples and sunlight from the surface. The fish swam around, above and through the reef. Many of them, such as the fairy basslets, parrotfish, blue chromis, blue tang, squirrelfish, and cardinal fish numbered in the hundreds or perhaps thousands and stood out in stark contrast to the more muted shades of the coral. I saw two large Nassau groupers and one Yellowfin grouper, also about 2 to 3 feet long. There was one ocean triggerfish gliding at the boundary of sand and coral. Flitting and flirting were two disc-shaped Spotfin Butterflyfish, with white bodies trimmed in vibrant yellow. This fish is distinguished by a black stripe running vertically on its head, right through its eye, and a tiny black dot on the rear part of its yellow dorsal fin. Coming in and out from under the ledges were two types of boxfish. The smooth trunkfish is easily recognized by its triangular shape and white spots which change to a honeycomb pattern on its side. The honeycomb cowfish, with its yellow, black and white pentagonal pattern and feathery fan tail is similar but distinct with a spine above each eye. I also found one of my favorite fish, a porcupinefish. Broad, delicate fins flutter about its plump, spotted body, and two large bluish-black eyes adorn its broad head and face. Its whitish mouth is always slightly open in a shy smile as it hovers and peeks out from under ledges, probably wary but seeming to want to become friends.
We were getting down to the very last of our food supplies. In fact, we had even less than what we had in the Venezuelan islands. We had already run out of bread. We hadn’t been able to buy milk since we were in Bonaire. The last of the produce from Samana was gone. We still had pasta, sauce and parmesan, but I became quite creative, making a improvised version of egg-drop soup with ramen noodles and garlic toast with the very last clove of garlic and the ends of loaves of bread. (It was a hit, so I may never toss out the heels again.) After we savored the food we had, we watched the large orange orb of the sun sink into a cloudless horizon, and Peter is sure that he finally saw the elusive green flash.
Close to a new moon, the stars were brilliant, and Peter and I decided to sleep on deck, something we had never done. It was a lovely way to fall asleep, but, without covers, we both got cold sometime in the night and retreated to our bed.
May 7, 2008 (Wed.) – Peter was very worried that we might be in trouble since we had been in the Bahamas for a few days and had stopped at two islands without stopping first at a port of entry to clear customs and immigration. His anxiety bordered on paranoia. He was sure that a low-flying plane which flew directly over us at anchor in Rum Cay was spying on us! Therefore, after our meager breakfast of boiled eggs and the last of the applesauce for the kids, he was ready to pull up anchor and get to Georgetown as quickly as possible. Paradise had a strong hold on me, however, and I insisted on snorkeling again while he did the dishes and got everything ready.
Once again, I observed a Yellowfin and a Nassau grouper. The blue chromis, fairy basslets, and cocoa damselfish seemed even more numerous and were mesmerizing in the shades of violet, yellow and blue. A large dog snapper drifted by a few times. Although they were present before, I’m sure, I was thrilled to spot and accurately identify two types of black and yellow fish, the yellowtail hamlet and the aptly named rock beauty.
We pulled up anchor at 0830 hours and motored for six hours across the Exuma Sound to Elizabeth Harbour. It was hot since the following wind was nullified by our speed, and it was boring. We did all kinds of small tasks to pass the time. Since the freezer was empty, I chipped away at ice to help defrost it. This is harder than it may seem, as the freezer is quite deep and even lying on the countertop, I could not reach all the way down to the bottom with the ice pick.
When we arrived, Peter was so anxious and rushed that he took us quite close to shore and we ended up anchoring in 6 feet of water; in other words, the keel was sitting on the bottom! He made himself presentable, gathered up our documents and money, and proceeded to customs with trepidation, only to find a very nice woman who did indeed ask where we had been for the last week but did not interrogate him, levy an enormous fine or throw him in jail! As I had pointed out repeatedly, there were no reconnaissance planes or spy boats disguised as fishing trawlers tracking our movements.
He returned and we all jumped in the dinghy and headed for FOOD! The Exuma Market is one of the best on the islands even though it’s small. We loaded a cart with milk, eggs, bread, sodas, fruits and vegetables, soup and other package foods, toilet paper, paper towels and snacks with great delight.
We returned to Epicurus; the tide had risen and we were able to pull up anchor and move across the harbor to the main anchorage in front of Volleyball Beach, where we were greeted by a shark and a dolphin who came so close we could have reached out and petted it. The anchorage was practically deserted. Almost everyone had already started heading north or south for the hurricane season.
We were still putting away all the food and thinking about dinner when two 12-year-old twins from a nearby boat spotted kids on our boat and dinghied over. They invited Katya and Matthew over to watch a movie. Katya quickly ate a can of tuna and Matthew had a few Vienna sausages, and off they went, not returning until 11 p.m., long after I had gone to bed. Matthew was particularly thrilled to have other kids around. Katya is much more moderate in her demonstration of any excitement.
May 8, 2008 (Thurs.) – Peter patched the dinghy, and when it was dry, we all took a trip into town. We had to visit the immigration office, and the kids were excited about getting books from the library, which is a very nice little place with a good selection of reading material. It was hot in town, and we were quite hungry by the time we returned to Epicurus, so we made the quickest lunch we could, happy to have a selection of food.
We usually do school work about five hours a day. Since companionship was available, we decided to spread Thursday and Friday’s work out over the weekend, into four parts, so Katya and Matthew could play with Justin and Josie. I spent the early afternoon teaching and doing laundry. Our kids were just getting ready to dinghy over to Rio Luna, when they came to us. The dads took the kids to the beach, and I kayaked in after I finished hanging the laundry from the life lines.
The kids greeted me and announced their plan to gather games and DVDs from the other boat and spend the rest of the day on ours. I had to kayak back to our boat to get our dinghy to provide transportation for the four of them from the beach, to Rio Luna and then to our boat. The twins’ parents radioed around 6 p.m. that they were coming to retrieve them, but the four kids had just started watching a movie after playing a long game of Clue, so we invited the parents over. The four adults had drinks and snacks on deck for a couple hours while the kids finished the movie, then played poker and a game of Aggravation before the party finally broke up around 8:30.
Two glasses of wine had made me very sleepy, so I prepared dinner, ate mine and went to bed, leaving the rest of them to fend for themselves.
