Hello from Hopetown, on Elbow Cay in the Abacos.
After our last blog entry, we spent a few more relaxing days north of Pelican Cay, Eluethera
beachcombing, snorkeling, spearing, etc., before heading out on a leisurely cruise up to the
Glass Window in northern Eluethera, where we anchored up for the night. (The wind was behind us just enough to fly our
cruising spinnaker/chute). The next
morning we passed through Current Cut, setting a new SOG (speed over ground)
record for our trip of 11.6 knots!! Our
speed record was entirely due to the 5+ knots of current that races through the
cut as the tide ebbs off of the shallow bank into the deeper water on the
north/west side of Eluethera. The amount
of water that squeezes through the cut with each tide is impressive, and not a
little daunting. We anchored up right
around the corner from the cut on the back side of Current Settlement; very
pretty spot.
The anchor hadn’t been down five minutes – I was still
running through my post trip boat check – when I heard Win yelling “FISH
ON!!!! Yellowfin Tuna! Woohooo!”
When I found him, he was hanging on to his doubled-over rod for dear
life, watching line disappear from his reel at a rate that was, well,
unsustainable. This didn’t seem to
bother him much, as he continued screaming “Yellowfin Tuna!!!” A minute into the fight, Win had
the upper hand and was steadily bringing in line. He landed the 20lb Greater Amberjack about
ten minutes later. It wasn’t a Yellowfin
tuna (the yellow dorsal and tail fins had caught Win’s eye), but it might as
well have been. A 20lb pelagic on light,
light tackle is a heck of a catch. A
quick photo and the fish was swimming again.
Nat, Ben and I then headed off for a very successful spearing trip on
some outer rocks, after which Ben, Win and I drifted Current Cut and jigged
large slug-gos. We hooked a lot of big,
big fish, but only landed two – a good size Mutton Snapper and a 30lb
Horse-eyed Trevally.
The next morning we pulled the anchor at 5:30am and headed
for the Abacos with Osprey and Celilo.
It was a long run through about 50 miles of deep ocean – close to 12,000
feet in places – with very light winds.
On the bright side, the seas were pretty flat and everyone felt good
during the entire trip. On the dim side,
the sailing was frustrating. We tried just
every possible sail plan combination that we could muster: main and spinnaker; spinnaker alone; spinnaker and jenny (jib); and main and jenny. At times we moved along nicely, but at others
we hardly moved. Also on the dim side,
we didn’t catch a single fish, despite a three-rod spread with some pretty
fancy lures. Neither did Celilo or
Osprey, although Celilo did manage to hook a tangle of polypropylene line – a tangle which Bruce at one point
reported was taking line like a freight train. A far more disappointed sounding Bruce later
filled us in on what really happened. The
sun was pretty low by the time we ran through the cut at the southern end of
Lanyard Cay and dropped anchor off a nice little beach near the island’s
northern end. The next morning, Nat, Ben and I headed across
the sound for a bonefishing trip (no bones hooked, but Nat stalked and hooked a
big triggerfish on the fly) while Betsy and Win hiked the island. In the afternoon, we pulled the hook and ran
up to Hopetown to take refuge from another nasty series of fronts that were
scheduled to move through the Abacos over the weekend. We made it in fine – the waters all around
the entrance are very shallow – despite having a foot or less of water under
our keel for an uncomfortably long time.
In the harbor were lots of friends – Zusammen, Osprey, Celilo, Three@Sea,
Makana, Cookie Monster, Dharma, etc.
Hopetown has been a lot of fun, even though we did go
through some culture shock for the first few days that we were here. It doesn’t feel at all like the Bahamain out islands
that we’ve visited for years and that we’ve been cruising through lately. Instead, it feels more like Nantucket or
Martha’s Vineyard. Lots of services,
lots of tourists, lots of snazzy shops and lots of restaurants. In other words, it’s a great place to spend
money. And it’s definitely a touch
colder up here, at least it has been during the last week. But
the town is also quaint and exceptionally pretty. Small paths run through colonial era homes
fringed with Victorian trim, and golf carts make up the bulk of the local
transportation fleet. I like it.
A few highlights from our week in Hopetown include:
·
Seeing the Schorers, friends from Duxbury who,
coincidentally, were vacationing on Elbow Cay this week. Not only did the Schorers agree to bring down
four badly-needed VHF radios for us, but they arrived at our boat with a
welcome kit chock full of food, drink (including a fine single malt and a few
bottles of choice wine) and other goodies from home. And if that weren’t enough, they offered up
their house – an amazing place perched on a dune overlooking the Atlantic – for
laundry, showers and an afternoon pool party/cookout. We rounded out that day with a great dinner
at a local restaurant where, coincidentally, we ran into some Duxbury ex-pats. Scott
also took out all the boys for a ride on the 26 Dusky that he’d rented for the
week. Betsy and I really, really enjoyed
catching up with Scott and Julie, and the kids had a blast wrestling and
palling around. We’re looking forward to
connecting with the whole group in Duxbury this summer.
In another small world encounter, we ran
into another friend from Duxbury – Phoebe Teare – while heading to the dock one
day. We were admiring Notluf, a
beautiful 60’ S&S ketch in the harbor when Phoebe poked her head out of
Nutluf’s cockpit and said “Is that Betsy Davenport?!?” Turns out that Notluf belongs to Phoebe’s
father, Bill, who spends each winter in Hopetown on his boat. We had a nice visit with Phoebe, her father
and the kids, as well as a great tour of Notluf. Quite a boat.
·
Meeting Winer Malone, one of the last
traditional boat builders in the area. I
met Mr. Malone while I was waiting for the bank to open (it is open only once a
week for a few hours). After some
back-and-forth, the conversation turned to his livelihood. He told me that he started building wooden
sailboats – specifically, Abaco Dinghies – when he was 19 years old, and he’s
been building them ever since. He’s now
82. After the conversation deepened – he
gave me some history on his family’s long history on the island, and his father’s
job as a tug captain in the area – he invited Ben and me back to his house to
look at the boat he was currently working on. (Brawley – if you’re reading this, you
probably have a lot to add to what I’ve written; I’m sure you know Mr. Malone
well, and he certainly knows your mother).
After finishing up our banking, Ben and I
walked over to Mr. Malone’s house. He invited
us in and then led us back to his side yard, where a nearly-finished 12 foot
Abaco Dinghy sat on blocks. I wish that
I had the descriptive skills necessary to give the boat justice; I don’t. So I’ll just say that she was the finest
example of craftsmanship that I’ve ever witnessed, period. She was a traditional plank over frame boat,
with planks – which formed the boat’s outer skin, running lengthwise along the
boat’s hull – fastened to inner ribs fashioned from crotched sections of local
hardwood. The ribs dictate the shape of
the boat’s hull, and because the ribs were made from naturally bent crotched
sections of wood (he didn’t steam and bend the ribs to a pre-determined shape),
every single hull that Mr. Malone had built, including the one sitting in front
of us, was unique. He used no plans
whatsoever. And, even more incredibly,
he didn’t use a single power tool when building his boats. Hand saws, hand planes, chisels, adzes, axes,
etc. were all that needed. Even his masts
and booms were ripped and rounded by his own, 82 year old hands. Near the end of our visit, Mr. Malone
commented that this was his last boat. His eye troubles and old age had caught up
with him, he said. I hope that isn’t the
case. As Ben and I strolled down the
road after our visit, we both felt like we’d seen an old master at work on one
of his final pieces, and we felt privileged about having had a chance to meet
him. And then I felt stupid for not
bringing a camera with me!
·
Field Day on the beach. In a memorable
parting act, Catherine from Three@Sea
(which sadly left the harbor this morning, heading for the states) organized
a bonanza beach field day for all of the kids.
Each boat came prepared with a contest and prizes. The contests included an ocean-inspired relay
race, casting lures closest to a target, a water balloon toss, bat races,
wheelbarrow races, a three-legged race and a sponge/water bucket relay. An elaborate award ceremony followed each
contest. And after all of the contests
were over, the kids descended on the Sugar Shack, a local ice cream
parlor. Loads of fun for the kids and
parents!
That’s all for now.
Our current plan is to head over to Marsh Harbor tomorrow for supplies,
and then head south again for a week or so.
After that, we’ll likely start exploring some of the more remote spots north/east
of here. All of us are trying our best
to clear from our heads the unavoidable idea that we need to leave the Bahamas
and head North at some point, so I won’t write about that yet. Our love and best to everyone back home,
especially Aunt Wiley!
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