“Instructions for living a life.
Pay attention.
Be astonished.
Tell about it.”
~ Mary Oliver
Due to the high wind forecast, we chose to seek shelter at a dock at Emerald Bay Marina, which operated with a shoestring staff due to the defunct former owner, Sandals Resort. Since the dilapidated resort did not interest us, Scott rented a car. Recalling our conversation at Black Point with Bunker, who encouraged us to visit his Little Exuma and Tropic of Cancer Beach, we decided to explore the land.
Once south of Exuma International Airport, the paved road decayed significantly, and at times, the car shuddered when avoiding potholes and turning on the tightly wound roadways. The rustic island had few luxury residences, scattered homes and businesses, vacant beaches, and immense tracks of undeveloped land covered with dense scrub shrubs and thatched palm. As we drove through George Town with our windows down, we smelled the scent of BBQ cooking in the streets and felt the gentle sea breeze. The further we drove south, the more remote we became from civilization. It took time to adjust our aesthetic sensibilities to the landscape, but the more we immersed ourselves in it, the more we were captivated by its unique and raw beauty.
With trepidation, we traveled across the one-lane bridge to Little Exuma. A quick stop in Forbes Hill (population 200) to snap a picture of the post office and onto Tropic of Cancer Beach. The sea was wild as the northeast wind ripped at 30 knots across Exuma Sound. We splurged on a tropical drink from the hut by the sea and used the plastic cup to collect sea sand and some unique sponges that had washed up on the beach.
On the way back, we stopped at Santana’s in Williams Town (population in the dozens). It was a small family-run operation with a welcoming atmosphere and what looked like fresh, delicious food. We stayed for a drink and a conversation with a gentleman we met from St Louis who had been visiting for 20 years. He was enjoying his lobster and ate the shells along with the meat. The owner commented, “You eat lobster like the Bahamians do!” On the way back, we stopped for dinner at Blu, an upscale restaurant overlooking Man of War Cay Sandbar, an anomaly in the middle of nowhere. The experience was a perfect blend of luxury and isolation, making us appreciate the beauty of the Bahamas even more.
During the storm, we used the car to restock groceries, fill the propane tank, and gather other supplies. We then walked through George Town and visited Andrews Parish House at the top of the Hill. The church has a white facade, blue shutters, and 360-degree views. A glimpse into the church revealed a stained-glass window with shepherds in a boat and the saying, “Peace Be Still.”
We stopped into a hotel called Peace and Plenty, and the 1783 tavern used to house the slave jail. Then, onto the straw market, women gathered to make and sell their woven goods. The large ships seemed to dwarf the government dock as they unloaded construction goods and other items. Numerous conch shacks lined the Queen’s two lane highway, where locals refueled on their favorite treat.
After the high wind passed, we moved to Elizabeth Harbor on Stocking Island. The barrier island lies one mile east of George Town and is a favorite for cruisers. We heard on channel 72 that there was a count of 317 boats on anchor or mooring just hanging out. At 8 AM, boaters listen to all the local news on Channel 72. Cruisers are known by their boat names and network with fellow cruisers: “Pick up volleyball at Chat N Chill at 2 PM. Trash pick-up in Georgetown at 3 PM; bring gloves. Does anyone want to share a cab ride to the airport? Can anyone spare impellor spare parts?” This sense of community and shared experiences among the boaters creates a feeling of belonging and camaraderie.
Our mooring was just off the beach, near a local restaurant called Chat N Chill. This restaurant is a meeting place for boaters. Sailing families gather there as the sun sets to hang out with other parents and watch their children make friends, wonder, play in the sand, attempt to make a trumpet call from a conch, climb a tree, or cool off in the water. The scene is reminiscent of a bygone era.
One night, we arrived at Chat N Chill just before 5 p.m., when the place was closing. We were told there was no more food. A local offered his wrapped and ready plate of Togo and insisted that we take it. We got the sense that it would have been an insult not to accept the man’s kindness. This act of generosity, care, and hospitality of Bahamians and the sailing community is not only touching but also makes one feel welcomed and appreciated.
Every cruiser here has a story. During our time here, we met a woman Captain who single-handedly sailed her sailboat from Martha’s Vinyard. A former educator in her sixties, she is writing a book about her travels. She plans to spend a month here. We met a young couple from Massachusetts who sold all their assets, purchased a catamaran, and sailed from South Africa to Exuma; they plan to live aboard. We saw a family from Denmark on the beach and enjoyed reconnecting. There are so many others with similar stories that it is hard to capture it all. And yes, we saw Warren and Cindy, who invited us to lunch in downtown George Town and made a day of showing us the ropes in the settlement. Their hospitality and willingness to share their experiences made our trip all the sweeter.
Kailoa signing off!
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