Short Sea Stories

Turtle Nursery –

We were up in this shallow mangrove delta behind Little Harbour in the Abacos.  The dinghy ride from the anchorage was a long one, but the water was smooth enough to get the little inflatable boat up on plane and moving around 20 knots, so we were able to scoot way back there in no-mans land. The shallows were sandy once we got behind the reefs and barrier mangroves into this round sheltered drainage basin, a kind of delta. Standing up in the boat for better visibility, scouting changes in water color with the outboard inclined for the shallows, inching along, looking for deeper water and signs of life, we rounded a cut bank towards a particularly sandy patch and saw what appeared to be dozens of dark boulders on the white bottom. As we neared, the dark spots starting darting off in every direction with amazing speed. We had entered some sort of turtle nursery, and the juvenile terrapins were gliding around in circles as the boats drifted over them. We couldn’t believe how fast they were, excitedly changing direction and circling around and occasionally surfacing for breaths without losing speed. As we continued down the creek they were more and more; around every turn there were turtles. The spectacle continued for a solid hour as we slowly let the current pull us out of the shallows.  We had to have seen several hundred turtles in all.

Abandoned station –

Anchored near Lee Stocking island in the Southern Exumas we explored the remains of an abandoned marine research facility.  The NOAA station was deserted only three years ago, and evidently everyone left pretty quickly. Several dozen buildings and an airstrip were left to rot.  The buildings consist of bungalows, laboratories, dining halls, dive stations, and several bigger homes. It was like the set of ‘lost’. The labs still stuffed with chemical bottles, centrifuges, test tubes, and assorted random scientific instruments. The buildings are far from decrepit but rather just showing signs of their abandonment. A huge diesel generator, tractors, loaders, water filtration systems, and much more complex infrastructure remain on the island. Computer labs with hard drives still in the machines were scattered throughout the facility as well as VCR tapes and soy sauce bottles and trashy paperbacks. It was almost as if people had been living there just yesterday. The island itself was particularly beautiful with gorgeous reefs and beaches, but the debris and rusting buildings made it almost spooky. One house on the East side sits high on a hill overlooking the narrow cut. The porch is still solid and there were some plastic chairs laying around, so we had an afternoon on the back deck of a decaying beach house, watching boats navigate the intricate shallow cut below. From our vantage point we spotted a dozen boats that day. The island sits in an area where Exuma sailors are forced to venture out into the open ocean away from the protection of windward islands. The huge harbor of Georgetown is only accessible via exposed routes and Lee Stocking sits like a dead end cul-de-sac in the middle of the Northern path, (overlooked by many) so our porch was a great place to watch the boats beating past. The two bedroom bungalow had vaulted cedar ceilings in the main room with laminated countertops and early eighties appliances. It was fun to imagine what this facility would have been like in it’s heyday, the small dorm-like boarding houses for the graduate students manning the labs during the day, and the swanky bungalow with the view for the groovy professor – marine biologists in bikinis collecting conch for lunch on one of the tiny beaches – movie nights in the common areas watching “The Deep” or “Jaws” or “10” or some other relic from that time in the 70’s when island life was very in vogue.  This place must have been a sought after post for island loving kids to come play with grant money and live “the dream”. It’s not so fun to imagine what will become of this place now that it’s littered with debris on such an industrial scale. We walked the island for two days and saw no one else.

Monument party –

Our last night in Georgetown was celebrated by hiking up a steep hill to a stone beacon placed as an aid for navigation in the days before GPS.  The monument is basically shaped like the Washington monument, but only 30 or so feet tall, a concrete beacon for sighting the entrances to the harbor. The hill it sits atop is probably close to 100 feet straight up with a switchback trail leading through sandy footholds to the summit. We hiked up with a group of our Georgetown friends and had drinks and snacks as the sun went down. Any high vantage point in the Exumas provides an extra dramatic scene because when you get up there you can see the distinct contrast between the ocean and the sea. The two bodies look so dramatically different that it’s striking. The teal blues with white and green strips and brown circles marking coral reefs in the sea / versus the dark, royal, and violet blues of the ocean. The angry white caps and foamy texture of the violent roaring lion of the ocean / versus the almost-see-through, sometimes glassy, purring kitten of the sea. The view would be dramatic enough for anyone to appreciate, but to a bunch of sailors who are leaving the sea for the ocean the impact is powerful. Knowing you are leaving the peace of one for the unknown of the other makes you think twice. The happy hour was bitter sweet as we all said our goodbyes. We made great friends in G-town, and really look forward to returning there in seasons to come.

Slow –

The difference between 4 and 5 knots is a big difference! Squeezing speed out of a sailboat or ‘blow boat’ or ‘slow boat’ is no easy task.  On a passage of only forty miles 4 knots means 10 hours, 5 knots means 8. So when we sail we have to squeeze every tenth of a mile per hour possible. It’s maddening to some degree. “let’s try making it tighter, or looser, or bigger, or smaller, or twist it more this way, or what the hell does this rope even do”. I cleaned the right side of the bottom of the boat because I was too tired/lazy to clean both sides and we end up sailing on the dirty side for the next several days. The wind seems to always be too much or too little. If the wind is in your favor there is a cross swell or a current or the tide is against you. For someone who grew up in speedboats the process is especially frustrating. We can always start the diesel, but it’s only got 30 horsepower for a fourteen thousand pound boat,,, so not much help there. The patience required to trudge along through the ocean at a speed slower than a brisk walk is immense. I am slowly accepting this fact, but it is still difficult when you see the island you are heading to on the horizon and know that “land ho” really means land tomorrow.

Snorkeling –

We spend so much time in the water sight-seeing, hunting, drifting, caving, cleaning, etc. The mask and fins are almost extensions of limbs. The gear is fun to put on and use.  I wear neoprene booties under scuba-style split fins, a polarized and rose tinted mask, a thin neoprene jacket, a weight belt, and always carry a spear. The gear is constantly salty and wet (much like us) and we are getting more and more comfortable down there under water circling coral heads. Fish of every color and size are poking around looking at us looking at them. Chubs, grunts, butterflies, snapper, goatfish, hamlets, and rays (which are sometimes huge!) usually make up the majority of the show. Then you get the more special troops like parrotfish, hogfish, and angelfish. Then on special occasions we get to follow turtles or sharks or cuttlefish. The coral variety is equally as stunning.  From the dark purple fans waving on the outskirts of a patch of heads then come the stag horn and elk horn growths and huge brain corals.  Green tubes and pointy black urchins stick out from beneath everything. In the Exumas the coral patches are often up near rocky limestone cliffs that overhang the water at low tide so we just swim along a wall of crevices and hiding spots for hours looking for something to spear.  Our targets are mainly lobster, grouper, and lion fish. I am completely obsessed with killing a lion fish and actually hit one a few days ago but I had the plastic safety tip on my spear (doh!). I hope I broke his little ribs… But whether or not we come back with dinner snorkeling is a great way to spend an afternoon. On the longer swims it’s easy to get sucked into their world and totally relax. That’s when it gets good, because being relaxed slows the breath so that maybe 60 or even 90 second dives become possible. Tori and I floated along for quite a while with a big school of angelfish one day. It’s easier to hold your breath when something around you is so beautiful that it takes your mind off the need for oxygen.  The angelfish were swimming closer as we dove, but as we approached they turned and gently surrounded us, allowing us to join in the formation for a few maneuvers. Very little is scary on a coral reef, but facing off with barracuda is always a bit unnerving… those guys sure do stare! Big overgrown conch sometimes litter the bottom in sandy spots, and then there are starfish and sea snails and grasses. There is a lot to see down there! Boaters share knowledge about good spots and how the current runs through this place or that. Sometimes the coral is bleached out and dying, sometimes the visibility is poor or the surface chop is too rough, but we are getting a better sense of where to dive at what time and in what conditions. It’s a cool thing to practice and I look forward to learning more about the art of reef snorkeling.