Eastbound from West End

Feb 2 Great Sale Cay
It’s been blowing now for 30 hours—20-25 knots with gusts over 30. Quite a difference from the afternoon and night just a few short hours ago. We made our way from West End, Grand Bahama to an anchorage at Mangrove Cay (pronounced key) and then to Great Sale Cay. We were actually able to use a sail between Mangrove and Great Sale! Woohoo! We anchored at Great Sale a few hundred feet from the shore, rigged the riding sail and a kellet on the anchor line in preparation for the blow we knew was coming. We joined Mike and Janice (m/v Dual Dreamers) on Bill and Maureen’s boat, s/v Kalunamoo (it means sun, moon, sea) for sundowners. We had met all of them at West End.
Around midnight, we awoke to a dead calm and a sea of glass. Anchoring should always be like that. The boat was drifting aimlessly over the anchor chain and our track on chart plotter showed a confused tangle instead of the steady arc you see when you are swinging at anchor. By 4 AM, the dead calm was replaced by howling winds, the blow had arrived.

2/6 Foxtown
The weather finally settled and we made the 30 mile trek to Foxtown where we planned to stay the night and move on. Plans written in butter! Since squally weather was forecast for the area, we decided to stay over another day. S/v Kalunamoo, s/v Valda III (Ian and Larissa) and s/v Brittany de la Mer (Bob and Suzanne) came to Now or Never! for sundowners. Foxtown is a tiny, backwater community on Little Abaco Island. Most people there make their living by lobstering, fishing, conching and government welfare. Like many communities throughout the Bahamas, it is poor. Ironic since the Bahamas ranks 17th in the world for per capita income!

We went into town with Bill and Maureen. We were walking down the street and , “Hey mon, comon over.” It was late morning and many of the stoops and porches were populated by young men with nothing to do. I went over knowing that their interest in us was driven by an interest in our wallets. There was an old junk car on cinder blocks, no hood, no wheels, no motor. “So,” I asked, “can I rent this car?”
“Yeah, mon.”
“How much?”
“You gotta driver’s license?”
“What, I need a driver’s license?”
Knuckle bump.
So, we chatted a while with Mike McIntosh and his friends. Mike lived in the house, his sister next door and his mother next to that and so on. “Can’t misbehave with family living so close.” “No mon. No drugs, no bad language, nothin’ like Nassau or Freeport here. We good people, church goin’” There was a mostly empty bottle of vodka and some tonic on the stoop. Mike said he could get a good conch salad for me—no charge, out of the goodness of his heart and his love for his fellow man. Later, I told him that I’d pass on the conch salad. He reminded me that he wouldn’t charge me for it. I said that I knew it because I recognized his genuine generosity. “Thanks, but no thanks.”
“Okay, man. Tell you what. Can you give me $5?”