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Buena Vista Cay, Jumentos Bahamas 4/16-18/10
Greetings, while under way (more on that in a future log)...
We left you after a great sail, securely anchored on 200' of rode off Buena Vista Cay. As it was still broad daylight, and the conditions were fine ashore, we set out to explore. Our first foray was to, as we've determined to be typical, a very well marked (with stakes, buckets and other easily seen stuff recovered from the ocean side) trail entrance, on the beach slightly south of where we anchored. While it was a very nice, comfortable walk, it led to a beach with nothing other (to recommend itself to our interests) than what has become the usual beautiful, deserted beach. We had to go around a rocky section with only the slightest sandy parts, where I found our single treasure, a brilliantly colored, sharp- horned, immature, natural death, conch. I set it up on a rock to see as I came back from the area where some cruisers anchor to escape a west or southwest blow, between a rock and a hard place, so to speak, with great breakers off the reefs north of there. We walked back on the rocks, again leaving behind one of my finds - I've GOT to start carrying them, regardless of the inconvenience! - on the rocks, out of sight from our upper location but picking up a couple of intact milk crates to add to the entrance marker on our way back to the boat. It was early enough that we did a bit of our 1-2-3's, in my case, resurrecting a very nice Airguide bulkhead compass I'd bought at a flea market, along with a handheld direction finder and an antique radio-direction finder. Someone had replaced one of the bracket thumbscrews with metal (vs the plastic of the original), and, in my attempt to loosen it when I first had it, it had broken, rotted with corrosion. I suspect that error was why it was available so cheaply :{)) The cure was to take successively larger drill bits, from tiny to the size of the original hole, and carefully remove the corroded metal. Fortunately, I'd hit the center accurately with my first, tiny, bit, so, as it got closer to the plastic of the housing, I cautiously used the edge of the largest drill bit to take the last bits out of the way. Unfortunately, I had no suitable replacement plastic thumbscrew, and, of course, my drilling had messed up the threads slightly in the plastic housing. I determined that the pitch and size of the plastic thumsbcrew was the same as a common machine screw of which I had a good supply. Unfortunatley, however, I didn't have the appropriate tap in my inventory, so, reluctantly (I'd have preferred plastic, of course, though, with its intended mounting position, there wasn't likely to be any future corrosion), I cut an 8-32 phillips headed pan screw to the appriate length and used it like a tap (cleaning and rethreading the hole) before using it for the replacement bracket screw. Once that was done, it was a relatively simple matter to determine where on the bulkhead at the nav station would have the least interference from nearby ferrous metals. We'll still have to swing the compass (there are adjustment points on this unit for N-S and E-W fine tuning), but it will be nice to be able to see our heading at a glance from below, now. Our usual simple dinner, my check-in with the Maritime Mobile ham network (MMSN.ORG if anyone's interested), and we were off to read, again, before retiring. We've been through more books since we came to George Town than we've read the entire prior 3 years of living aboard :{)) While we were anchored, we noted that there seemed to be a structure under construction north of us. When we got under way (in the PortaBote) on Saturday April17, we rode the shoreline to have a look. It was located right next to ruins marked on the chart with the "house" label, and, sure enough, it was, apparently, occupied, as there was tethered, barking dog outside. We later would see him, a portly black man, in the binoculars around the house, and, a couple of times, perhaps doing some slash-and- burn farming prep, saw short periods of high flames away from the blue-tarp-topped structure with the single framing wall out front. The next beach north on the west side of Buena Vista had not only the best entrance marks we've seen, but the trail itself was liberally marked with the usual cairns, lots of flip-flops, and the occasional plastic bottle or cast-off buoy. Somebody, or several somebodies, had taken a saw as well as machete to clear the path, with large branches showing the sawmarks as the limbs were removed, as well as numerous close-cut stumps with the same marks, in the center, to clear the path. Extremely easy to follow, nice and wide, but if you're a hiker, wear your boots! The entire way is what we laughingly refer to as "moon rock" - which, of course, is a misnomer, as there don't seem to be any sharp surfaces on the moon! Instead, common to the Bahamas, it's limestone with very sharp points sticking up around little (golfball- to baseball- to softball-sized) depressions. A fakir might find it comfortable sleeping, but they would be deadly in a fall. Even in our Crocks, we could feel every point. I presume that it's just eroded limestone, with the different densities of the rock surviving the erosion (acid rain?) over the years. Indeed, as part of the erosion, we saw a cave and what would have been a well if it had been 15' deeper, cut out of the eroded limestone. This trail led to the NE side of the island. As the trail had wound around considerably, we weren't sure where we were at first, but, based on the sun position and that we could see our mast over the hilltop to our south, along with the terranin, we figured it out after much head-scratching. It was a wild and wooly place at that time, with crashing surf rolling in every couple of seconds. During some massive prior storms, driftwood had piled up in tall stacks above the rocks, impressive to behold, knowing the forces needed to get them that far above the water. As this was an extensive walk, and the water was far too rough to explore the south end of the island, we repaired to the boat for some more relaxation and reading. During our entire time in the Jumentos, the weather has been windy and warm, but not hot. We've enjoyed sleeping in the cool evenings, still using a comforter, with a breeze blowing in our aft hatch. That is, until it starts raining, of which we had some that night... April 18 dawned with a continuation of the rain we'd had splatters of the prior evening, so we stayed aboard for a while. As long as it was spitting rain, we started up the Honda to let Lydia continue with her bean polishing. The results are indeed impressive. Whether or not there's a commercial value, they'd make nice ceiling fan pulls, Christmas tree ornaments, or perhaps pendants for necklasses. By 1PM the rain abated and the sun came out, so we shut down operations and headed out to explore the southern part of Buena Vista. Despite my expecting it to empty at any moment, we're still on the first tank of fuel in the dinghy. Our first stop was the bottom of the island's beach where we thought there might be a path over to the other side. However, it was only some sea-trash; not a marker for a path. So, we set out again. Turning out to avoid the reefs extending to the southwest of the island, and then making our way ESE, we headed for the small cays north of Raccoon Cay, thinking we might find promising searching over there. However, as we approached, in building seas, we saw that we'd have to go through some serious surf to get to the other side, with the likelihood of even worse conditions ashore, so we turned back to the southernmost beach on the east side. We had to wade the boat in through the shallows, but it was very productive for Lydia, as between us we found enough of the scarcer hamburger beans to increase her supply by half. While I was working the northernmost part of the beach, I saw what looked like it might have been a path on the way to the end (I start at one end and Lydia starts at the other). It had no markings, but on the possibility that it might serve for one, I picked up a 5-gallon bucket and filled it with as many flip-flops as had usable thongs left on them, for markers. I also picked up a few of the hamburger beans to include in Lydia's haul. Working my way back, when I got to the "path" I saw that it wasn't a path, but, could, with only some machete work, easily become one. From the top of the dune I could see the very large salt pond, with a goat path across its dry part on the south end. From that vantage point, it appeared that it would be easy to cut through to the other side. Since I don't have one aboard, machete work will have to be some future cruiser's entertainment. Accordingly, I left not only the bucket with all the flip-flops, but another large (bakery?) plastic case leaning up against it at the top of the dune to attract the attention of future beachcombers. By the time we left, the tide had risen sufficiently that we could, cautiously, with the engine up to its furthest stop, ease our way over the rocky area in front of the beach. The trip home was a real hoot, with large rollers allowing us to surf them, playing the throttle continuously to keep from sliding down the faces. The "faces" tells you I wasn't perfect in my fiddly work on throttle and helm, but we surfed more than we wallowed. Exhilarated, we arrived back at Flying Pig and climbed aboard. Our usual, by now, custom of a fresh-water sponge-bath (to take off all the salt spray and sweat we'd accumulated on our excursion), reading, dinner, Maritime Mobile net checkin and email checks, followed by some VHF time, finished our evening. By this time, the wind has clocked to the south-south-east , and our protection is diminishing, so we're rocking and rolling a bit in the swell which, curiously, is coming from the south-south-west, close to on our beam. Not so bad that we're uncomfortable, but notably different than we've enjoyed the last several weeks. Turning our wheel hard over allows the bow to turn somewhat into the swell, which makes it a bit more of a hobbyhorse motion, much more comfortable than a roll. We're still close enough to reach our friends, who'd gone to Johnson Cay and had a marvelously protected anchorage overnight. They, too, had gotten lost in returning after exploring the ocean side, but in their case, they followed a goat trail, creeping along until they wound up where they'd started. Again, like we did, they wandered, yet again, finding themselves atop the hill on the eastern side before seeing where they needed to go. Makes us feel a little less silly for missing the path which is so clearly marked on the western side of the anchorage! Off to bed in rolly seas, we'll leave you here... Until next time, Stay Tuned! L8R Skip and crew, at anchor in Buena Vista Cay, Jumentos Bahamas Morgan 461 #2 SV Flying Pig KI4MPC See our galleries at www.justpickone.org/skip/gallery ! Follow us at http://groups.yahoo.com/group/TheFlyingPigLog and/or http://groups.google.com/group/flyingpiglog "You are never given a wish without also being given the power to make it come true. You may have to work for it however." (and) "There is no such thing as a problem without a gift for you in its hand (Richard Bach) |
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