Galliot Cay and Pipe Creek

We left Georgetown on a breezy Saturday morning leaving a fleet of hundreds of sailing vessels behind who had moored up for the season. The following week, the total number of boats in the harbor will balloon in preparation of the Georgetown regatta. My best guess is that there will be over 500 boats in the bay; based on all the traffic we saw heading there on our way up the Exuma chain.

Our sail started out a little spirited with six-foot seas on the nose while we beat our way out of the bay. Once outside, we veered north and made our way to Galliot Cut. As the day progressed, the sea state improved to the point Phil could throw out a line. Just as we were approaching the cut, he caught a large female mahi mahi on one of the lures he designed and built. How awesome is that? We invited friends from two other boats over for a sushi dinner aboard the Adamo.


The anchorage we were in behind Galliot Cay had a small beach tucked into the rocky coast. Erosion has carved the rocks into an overhang that spans the entire bank-side coastline of the small island. The north point looks like a giant stone iguana at low tide. At high tide, the rolling waves slap the bottom of the rocky ledge producing a soft sloshing sound that does wonders for nighttime sleeping.


On day two of our stay at Galliot, we had a cookout on the small beach.



Earlier in the day, Phillip took Susan for a dinghy ride to check out the waters around the cay. While they were motoring around she got a vibe and told Phil to check for lobster right under the boat. He put his mask on and took a look. Sure enough there was a large lobster. He plopped in and brought it back to the surface. “Here you go Mama!”

In the morning, the wind began to clock around. We knew it was time to move to a more protected anchorage.


We motored back out of the cut and sailed 20 miles north to Pipe Creek. On our way we hooked up with a good-sized bull mahi mahi. Phil saw the fish coming and darting from bait to bait. There was a lot of excitement in his voice as he said: “we are about to get a hit!” The rod bent down and the reel began zinging. “Fish on!”


When we reached Pipe Creek, the tidal currents were quite strong, so we dropped two anchors off the bow to form a Bahamian mooring. The first anchor is dropped in front of the boat, while the second is dropped behind the boat with a slack rode leading to the bow. As the current shifts between ebb and flood, the boat stays in the same spot regardless of which way the current is flowing since the front and rear anchors take turns holding the boat in place.

Phil and I explored the creeks and cays from the dinghy. Sue stayed on the boat to run a load of laundry. After our exploration, we returned back to the Adamo to prepare fresh mahi for dinner.

The front began pushing through that evening; the next few days were overcast and very windy. Phil spent much of his time working on home school. I did minor repairs and maintenance on the boat. Susan cooked and read.

As we were working our way up the Exuma chain of islands, our thoughts began shifting towards home. We were only two days worth of sailing from being back in the United States. Much had changed there. Much had changed with us too. One and a half years at sea calling on foreign countries and cultures changes you. It’s a journey not only of discovery of places and other people and cultures, but also of yourself.

We mingled with some of the wealthiest people on earth with their 200-foot mega yachts in the chic French islands of St. Martin and St. Barth, as well as some of the poorest people on earth living in straw and wooden huts on the Manamo river in Venezuela. We met cruisers who had circumnavigated the world. We had dinner with other adventures that had lived in all corners of the earth; global vagabonds who managed to make a living regardless of where they ended up. We met honest people and we met conmen. We spent time with welcoming people who would go out of their way to help us. We met people who where fascinated by what we were doing; living on a boat and sailing from country to country. We met people who were too busy to be interested in what we were doing.

Perhaps the most profound change for me was the realization that the things we American’s take for granted as normal are viewed as unusual or even bizarre by other cultures. I had spent all of my life living in first world countries in Europe and America. People work hard to live in large houses and drive what in third world countries would be considered fancy cars. We fill our homes with lots of stuff. When we have too many things, we put them into storage, a concept that is almost incomprehensible in some countries. Stress is high. Everyone is trying to get ahead. In contrast, the Warreo Indians had no real possessions and were perhaps the happiest people we met. Yet, that is changing with Venezuelan president Chavez handing out Yamaha engines to them. Now they will have to get money to buy fuel and parts to keep the engines running. They’ve never been in need of anything they could not produce themselves. That life style will be lost forever.

We live a privileged lifestyle in the US. But there is a price. We are always on the go. Time is the most precious resource and most people just don’t have time to fully enjoy all the things they accomplish. I would not advocate changing your lifestyle other than taking time to enjoy what you have accomplished and spending time with the ones you love.

On Easter Sunday April 11th, 2004 at the age of 37, I had a stroke that was caused by an undetected birth defect in my heart. I was mentally paralyzed and was unable to speak, read, or write. Over time, I was able to make a full recovery, but it was an eye opener. No one lives forever and you don’t know when your time will be up. You have to live your dreams while you can. Mine was sailing and I’m thankful that Susan and the boys indulged me and that our families supported our decision. Words simply can’t describe my gratitude. Many, many thanks.

Long Island

One of the things we wanted to do while in Long Island was to go to the grocery store and to the fishing shop. The stores are about 5 miles from the marina. It’s too far to walk. Catching a ride is easy if you just walk down the main road, but with a load of grocery bags on the trip home, we thought it would be better to rent a car. We only need one for a short time. We inquired at the marina about renting a car for a half day, but they would only rent a car out for a full day.

Next I went down to a bar/resort called Rowdy Boys. They agreed to rent us a small Jeep-like car for a half day, though I never really settled on the price. The owner simply said she would work with me. I figured any discount is better than none. I picked up the crew at the boat and brought them back to Rowdy Boys to pick up the car. Some one had just finished washing the car and the engine was running. “There you go.” No one asked for a license or credit card. There was no contract.

We drove up the road to the stores and purchased our provisions. We stopped on the way back to top off the gas. Then it was back to Rowdy Boys to return the car. I gave the keys back to the owner. She looked at me and said: “how much should I charge you?” While I was thinking, she said: “how about $30”. I thought great. The daily rate is $80.
“That should cover the gas,” she added. I told her we had topped the car off. She then looked at me and said: “well, we are all square then. Have a nice day.” We rented the car for the price of the gas! That was our experience with people all over Long Island. They are just super friendly and kind.

The following day, we sailed 40 miles to the north tip of Long Island. We finally had wind that we could sail in, 20 knots on the beam. Phil had the fishing rods out again. He had a double hookup with two mahi mahi. One got way, but he landed the smaller of two, still a nice catch.

We anchored up in Joe’s sound. The entrance to the sound is through a curved, jagged rocky edged cut. At high tide you have about six inches of water under the boat and about three feet of clearance on either side. It’s a nerve wracking. There’s no margin for error. But, the pay off is that once inside, you have a smooth anchorage with an amazing view.

While in Joe’s sound we met some fellow cruisers, Karin and Klaus, from Hilton Head, who were originally from Germany. They were co-owner’s of Daytona Beach Boat Works as well. What a small world.

The following morning we moved to George Town to meet-up with our friends on S/V Footloose. They were surprised to see us, particularly since I said I would never set foot in George Town again. It’s just not a friendly place and is crowded with hundreds of cruising yachts that anchor up here for the winter. It’s like a huge, floating trailer park. Our plan is to get some propane and head up the Exuma chain as soon as possible.

Clarence Town

Our arrival at the docks in Clarence Town at the Flying Fish Marina went smooth as butter. A slight westerly wind helped us steer the Adamo through an S turn past the breakwater and around the fuel dock into our slip. Maneuvering a 48’ foot, 55,000 lbs boat with only one engine and no bow thruster can become problematic in tight spaces if the wind is blowing the wrong way. Once at the dock Susan started doing laundry right away. I think she must have washed everything on aboard that was made of fabric, including clothes, sheets, comforters, rugs, rags, and bath and kitchen towels. The washer/dryer was running nonstop for two days. Shore power is a wonderful thing.

We thought we were only going to spend one day at the dock, but the 25 knot winds from the cold front that passed through on our first night in the marina, kept us there for two days. Even the larger twin-engine powerboats with bow thrusters were pinned to the dock.

Here’s the Captain and his new friend “Happy” chilling on the dock.


We were able to get an Internet connection, so we checked on our emails. Susan’s mom had copied me on an article about Allen Stanford and his $8 billion investment fraud. Stanford was the company I interviewed with in Antigua in November 2008. The facilities there were phenomenal and the show they put on was impressive. But while I was interviewing with the president of the bank, things were already in motion by the SEC. I commented to the recruiter after my interview that the president seemed a little distracted and was just going through the motions. I now suspect that while I was talking about my resume, he was thinking about how things were beginning to crumble around him. The pressure on him had to have been intense, but when you’re in that situation, you have to keep up the front. What a nightmare.

In retrospect, things are clear that something must have been wrong there. They used to fly clients in on the Stanford jet to Antigua. In the corporate hanger, a custom’s official would clear the client into the country where a limousine would then bring them past the new Stanford cricket stadium right in the middle of the airport grounds. The various Stanford subsidiaries had architectural masterpieces built among manicured grounds reminiscent of Boca Raton. There the clients would be wined and dined at the pool overlooking the cricket field in Stanford’s posh private club. Stanford International Bank was offering CD’s earning more than 10% per year. It was just too good to be true. Once the bank got the clients’ assets, the money would go into the “black box” that only Allen Stanford, his college roommate and the chief investment officer (who had no financial background experience) had access too. Incredible! Now investors cannot redeem their CD’s and the Bank has been placed in receivership. No one really knows how much money is left. The whereabouts of Stanford and his cronies is not known at this time.

After being on the dock for 2 days we moved to the anchorage and are waiting on the waves to subside. It is surprising how calm the anchorage is with the raging seas just beyond the reef.


Phil and I spent the day repairing the bottom of the dinghy on the beach. The hoisting hardware had ripping through the fiberglass, which caused a problem getting it up on the davits. Phil found some hammocks under palm trees and split a coconut while we waited for the fiberglass to setup. Later in the day, we brought Susan back to our find and hung out with fresh fruit rum drinks Phillip had fixed for us.

Unfortunately, one of the hammocks ripped and I went crashing to the ground with my short-lived rum drink landing all over me. Phil and Susan thought it was a riot. I was a little perturbed. Luckily, Phil had packed a cooler with refills and ice. What a good boy!

Moving On - Plana Cays and Long Island

On February 12th the weather calmed and we left Abraham’s Bay in Mayaguana, our home for the past month. The island had been a surprise for us. We had not planned to stay more than a few days, but the friendliness of the people made us feel so welcome that we just couldn’t break away. The strong sense of camaraderie among the cruisers just made the whole experience even more fun. The fishing and lobstering was second to none.

As we headed west out of the 5-mile long bay, the morning sun was shining brightly behind us, illuminating the waters as we navigated through the scattered coral heads. When we entered the open ocean, a light easterly wind was not sufficient to push us through the seas that still showed signs of weeks of stormy weather. The churned waves would crest and push the Adamo forward faster than the wind was blowing. The sails would luff until we hit the trough of the wave. Then with a jarring bang, the sails would fill with air and push the boat forward again. We were forced to motor sail for most of our trip to Plana Cays.

When we reached the Cays, the beauty of the beaches was fantastic. We anchored in 25 feet of water in crystal clear water dotted with large coral heads on snow-white sand. It was breath taking. Our friends on Footloose joined us for a sunset cookout on the island.


In the morning Footloose headed for George Town to pick up friends of theirs. We had the island to ourselves. Phil and I hit the water early looking for lobster, but were surprised that there were none there. We had grown so accustomed to finding them easily in Abraham’s Bay that we were a little stunned to come up empty handed. The beauty of the dive however, made up for the lack of lobster though. Swimming 20 feet down and looking around was like being in an aquarium. Tall coral heads jutted up from the sandy bottom in water that was clear as looking through air.

.....Large Nassau Grouper under the Adamo (out of season, bummer)

After the dive, Susan and I went beach combing and came upon a blowhole in the rocky jetty on the south point of the island. I was fascinated by it because we had seen some on the north side of the island earlier that day that were spewing water and spray 30 feet up into the air. With the wind out of the northeast and at low tide, this hole was dry. I hopped in and managed to get a photo of what they look like on the inside. Very cool!


Back on the Adamo, we pulled down a weather report. Another front was due to hit in a few days. Plana is not a good place to be when the weather turns because the anchorage is fully exposed. In the morning we left just as the sun was peeking over the horizon, and motored 20 miles to Acklin Island. The wind had dropped to 5 knots and the seas had calmed finally stilled to three-foot waves.

We had read in the guidebook that Lovely Bay was a good spot to anchor. When we arrived, the entrance was difficult to find in the lighting. The sun was low in the sky and looking south all we could see was the sun refracting from the ripples in the water. Corral heads were packed tightly in the shallow bay. We found a sandy spot and dropped anchor. After an early lunch, we decided to abort the rolly, exposed bay and keep moving. The front was due to hit in two days and there is no safe anchorage in twin islands of Acklin and Crooked Island. We motored 38 miles west along the coast to Pits Town, Crooked Island. We were now a day’s sail from safe harborage in Clarence Town, Long Island. In Pits Town we took the dinghy to shore and went to a deserted beach bar for a sunset beer. It was the third day in a row that we got to see the “green flash” as the last rays of the sun set over the ocean.

Before sunrise the next morning, I checked the weather. The front had slowed down and was not scheduled to hit us until the late afternoon of the following day. We pulled anchor and headed for South Point on Long Island. We had heard that it was really pretty there. I knew that once we made it up to Clarence Town, we would not turn back south, so I pointed the boat due west for the 27-mile crossing. Phil put the rods out. Life was good. That is until . . . the first mate woke up. As you know she’s not a morning person. A change to the planned destination without discussion with her was not good. She had been looking forward to a night in a marina and being able to do unlimited laundry while on shore power. But I also knew that a navigation plan meeting is not an AMA (Approved Morning Activity), particularly before sunrise. The wrath didn’t last long. South Point had too much interesting activity for that.

Phil had been trolling for days without catching anything. He lamented that he must have forgotten how to fish! That idea came to an end when a mile off of Long Island he landed a huge Spanish mackerel. We where a little concerned that it might have ciguatera due to its size so we asked local fisherman. They gave us the okay and we fixed fresh sushi for lunch.


On the west side of Long Island, we anchored on a white sandy bank.

A flock of pink flamingos was standing in ankle deep water, while sharks and large stingrays roamed the shallows.


Phil and I took the dinghy to the local grocery store. When we inquired about buying rum, the owner called her brother Ernest, who came to pick us up in his car and bring him back to his bar. I had a beer while we spoke with him and the other patrons. When we were ready to leave, we bought to two small flasks of rum and set out on our way back to the dinghy. Ernest offered us a ride, but we wanted to walk. Phil has seen some fruit trees along the road and want to collect some. As we walked the grocery bags full of soft drinks got heavier and heavier. We began to regret having turned down Ernest’s offer, but we also knew from our month-long visit last year that it would not be long before someone offered us a ride. The first pickup truck that passed, stopped, backup and offered us a lift. Things hadn’t changed on Long Island. What a place.

At dusk, the soft light after sunset reflected off of the calm bay, while the sandy bottom, etched by the current, was still illuminated and visible through the clear water. Incredible.


Over the course of the evening, the wind died. At 5:00am we pulled anchor and headed for Clarence Town. The ocean was flat as we motored 25 miles, a thousand yards off shore. Phil had the rods out again. Two Spanish mackerel and a hit and run from a blue marlin and we arrived to safety to Clarence Town. It was the calm before the storm.

Mayaguana - Fishing Update

9 Spanish Mackerel
3 Black Jack
1 Yellow Tail Snapper
14 Barracuda

All caught in under 3 hours of trolling on the South Shore of Mayaguana aboard S/V FootLoose!

Tom filleted some of the fish while the rest were released, Doris was at the helm, Phillip reeled them in, I gaffed them. It was unbelievable. We never went more than 3 minutes without a fish or two on the line.

We may get a break in the weather on Thursday. If so, we'll be moving on to Acklins and Crooked Island.

Cheers,

Adamo Crew