It seems that after nearly a week in Georgetown we’ve all lost our sealegs. We are headed to Staniel Cay, one of the most popular cays in the Exumas Chain, and intend to stop at some more tranquil anchorages along the way. The slight northerly swell has us all quite green about the gills just 30 minutes into the trip. Some OTC seasickness meds quell our nausea sufficiently so we can assist Tom in crossing safely from the Exuma Sound (Atlantic) to the Exuma Banks side. Fortunately, we navigate the cut with no difficulty and enter the sound.
Much like Turks and Caicos, the Exumas are a long chain of islands separated by short stretches of reef and water commonly known as “cuts”. Many millions of years ago this was a single island. Many of these cuts pose too much peril for a yacht to pass through, and even the ones that are navigable create a fair amount of stress when crossed under the best of circumstances. The Atlantic side has high winds and rough seas, and while the banks offer protections from these, they are nonetheless fraught with perils of their own: shallow waters, numerous reefs and coral heads and the odd rock. One must sail in good light with an eye on the tides. Here, we abandon the electronic charts in favor of the old fashioned paper variety. How odd that as far as the eye can see is water that is no deeper than 12 feet.
Our destination is the Caribbean Marine Research Center. Upon arriving, we pick up a mooring and try to raise the facility to arrange a tour. No answer. So, we hop in to the dingy as its nearing 4pm, when most government offices in the Bahamas close. We’ve been looking forward to touring the site, and in preparation the kids have thought of questions that they can pose to the researchers. But bad news. The facility is shuttered! They’ve cleared out all of the equipment, but the offices, dorms, work rooms, bedding and housing all remains. As near as we can tell they were still operating in the fall. They must have closed in between September and December 2012. By the looks of it, they aren’t thinking they will return. What a huge bummer!
Fresh from this disappointment we head to Great Guana key for another 2 nights. While snorkeling along the wide, lovely beach we discover hundreds of sand dollars. Sand dollars are a type of urchin, and when alive, they are covered with “spines” that resemble dark gray-brown fuzz. And they move. Zoe points out the tracks they leave in the sand. The sand here tells a saga of life and death: the slight depressions are made by rays as hover while digging up clams, other creatures make deep pits, trails crisscross the sandy expanses. While we cannot see any clams, their abundant shells on the ocean floor and beaches indicate there must be thousands buried beneath the sand. Tom spies a blue crab scuttling across the sandy floor and grabs it with a pair of tongs. It’s of an edible size, so we steam it. Served with drawn butter we delight in its fantastic sweet flavor. This inspires Tom to build a makeshift crab trap and we are lucky to catch another, albeit smaller one.
On Saturday morning we stop at Black Point, the largest settlement in the Central Exumas. We instantly like this place with its freshly painted buildings and neat streets. The locals are very friendly. Bikes and golf carts seem much more popular than cars. While searching for a place known as Lorene’s, we encounter a woman weaving palm fronds. The woman welcomes us to watch while she transforms the strands into a long woven band about a foot wide. Her fingers move rapidly, yet she weaves without looking. Probably in her 60s, she tells us she has been doing this since she was a little girl. Most of her work is used to make products sold in Nassau. Finally, we find Lorene’s Café and meet Lorene herself. She has quite a reputation for coconut bread and we aim to try some. Her tiny kitchen is redolent of cinnamon and fresh bread and the counter is full of freshly baked and bagged loaves. She is friendly and gracious woman. We leave with 2 loaves which we have savored. This tiny town seems a throwback to a less developed Caribbean. After the bustle of Georgetown, the pace and tranquility of these deserted anchorages has been a welcome change.
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