Boy Racers | Making Our Way to Allans Cay, Bahamas

Wreck off of Powell Cay

Boy racers are obnoxious. 

I don't know if boy racers are a problem in other parts of the world, but when were were living in Scotland and New Zealand, we would often hear on the news about how the police were trying to clamp down on their crazy antics on the roads. We would also hear the boy racers roaring down the street in their modified cars with their music blaring and their engines revving. So annoying. So obnoxious.

There are some girl racers, but it seems like the boys cause most of the problems, at least in New Zealand. They seem to have a need for speed and a need to compete with each other. Racing feeds that need. 

You can find boy racers on water too.

I think Scott has some boy racer tendencies. He loves to race on sailboats and he obsesses about how he can make our boat go faster and faster. When we're out sailing, he'll look for any opportunity to race someone else. Even if they don't know that they're racing against us. 

"See that boat over there? I bet we can reach that buoy over there before they do. Come on Ellen, bring in that sail! Crank it! Crank it!"

Yeah, that's pretty typical chit-chat on our boat. 

The problem with the Bahamas is lack of wind. Or, wind coming from the wrong direction.

We really didn't get to do as much sailing while we were in the Bahamas as we would have liked. The wind just wasn't in our favor and we ended up motoring much of the time. If Scott has one complaint about the Bahamas, it was having to use our engine so much. Which isn't really the Bahamas' fault. We could have let the wind decide where we would go or where we would stay. But, as we were only planning on being in the Abacos for a month or so, our need to get around and see new places meant the engine was roaring more than the sails were soaring.

Fortunately, that all changed when we headed from Spanish Cay to Allans-Pensacola Cay. Not only did we have a good sail, Scott got to embrace his inner boy racer. I'm pretty sure the other couple didn't know that they had entered a racing competition. But anytime there's another boat heading the same direction as you, the race is on. At least in Scott's mind

We had met Michael and Heidi from S/V Heidi Ho the previous day when we were out strolling along the beach on Powell Cay. They were out paddle boarding and we stopped to chat with them. Nice couple. He's a diver with one of the Florida fire and rescue units. Some of the stories he told us about what's involved in his job were fascinating. Such a dangerous profession. I wonder what drives people like Michael to do what they do? Firefighters are amazing - they willingly risk their lives every day to save other people.

We ran into Michael and Heidi again at Spanish Cay. They seemed surprised that a night at the marina cost them almost $300.

But by the time you add up the slip fee, the electric and water charges, dinner at the restaurant and a case of beer, you can easily get to $300 for just one night. This is why we don't stay at marinas in the Bahamas. We do think spending our money on coconut bread is a wise investment though. Coconut bread makes us happy. That's money well spent. So we stopped briefly at Spanish Cay and splurged on a $6 loaf. 

Spanish Cay Marina - a pretty, but expensive place to stay at.

Then we all left Spanish Cay and the race was on!

We were all headed to Allans-Pensacola Cay. Michael and Heidi have a catamaran which meant they had more options about how to get there. While we have a relatively shoal draft, we still like to avoid hitting things and grounding our boat, so we picked our route carefully. Turns out we chose our route well. Turns out Michael and Heidi chose poorly. They hit a spot where there was no wind whatsoever and just floundered, while we zipped along.

And we won!

Thank goodness. If we hadn't won, then Scott would have spent hours afterwards dissecting the "race" and where things went wrong. Scott still spent hours thinking and talking about the race, but with a smile on his face. He's cute when he smiles.The next day, Michael came over for a visit and congratulated us on our win. I guess maybe we were racing after all. Scott smiled some more.
 
LOGBOOK NOTES | Monday, 1 June 2015

• Total Nautical Miles - 15
• Anchor Up - Powell Cay
• Provisioning Stop - Spanish Cay
• Anchor Down - Allans-Pensacola Cay 
• The first annual Spanish/Allans Pensacola Cay Regatta was held and victory was ours!
• First prize - French toast made with coconut bread the next morning

Next up on the blog...we go for a little walk on Allans-Pensacola Cay to see the famous signing tree.

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Frank & Pantsy Feeling Sad | Green Turtle Cay & Powell Cay, Bahamas

Evy the Sailing Cat

It had to happen sooner or later. Our buddy boat, S/V Wild Blue, abandoned us to make their way back to the States. They originally tried to abandon us at Marsh Harbour, but we tracked them down at Green Turtle Cay. Like mosquitoes and noseeums swarming around you and leaving you with nasty, itchy bites, we can't be gotten rid of that easily. 

We didn't expect to see Charlie and Jane again, so imagine our surprise when we took our dinghy to the Green Turtle Club marina to get some diesel and water and there they were, hanging out with their cats. Their cats are adorable. Sugar, Smokey and Evy are their names, just in case you ever run across S/V Wild Blue and want to say hi to them. Sugar and Smokey will probably ignore you, but Evy will happily come over to your boat, make herself at home and take a nap in the v-berth.

Okay, that's probably enough about cats. Scott gets a little tired of me yammering on incessantly about how cute cats are and how we need one for out boat. He likes to remind me that Charlie and Jane's cats sometimes puke on rough passages and how would I like to clean something like that up. That's usually enough to get me off the whole boat cat idea, at least for a little while.

We got our diesel and water and made plans to meet up with Charlie and Jane at the Wrecking Tree for a bite to eat. Apparently, we had missed all the excitement a couple of days prior when Nicole Kidman, Keith Urban and their kids were visiting Green Turtle Cay and had lunch at the Wrecking Tree. Jane said that everyone left them in peace to enjoy their meal, but as they left Jane tried to snap a sneaky photo of Nicole. All she ended up capturing was a picture of her handbag. I don't think she's going to get a job as a paparazzi anytime soon. Jane showed me the photo and, I have to say, it was a swanky handbag, especially in comparison to the tattered dry bag backpack thing I cart all my stuff around in.

At lunch, we sat in the very same seats that Nicole and Keith occupied previously. I kept hoping that some sort of pixie dust residue was left on the chair and that I would miraculously get long legs and pretty hair. I looked down to see if the magical transformation was happening. Nope. Same short, pudgy legs covered in bruises. I checked my hair to see if I had smooth, shiny curls. Nope. Same frizzy mess as always. 

To console myself, I had some mac n'cheese. You might be aware of my current obsession with Bahamian mac n'cheese. If not, trust me, it's delicious. And it's also a frugal lunch option. They serve it as a side dish, but one square was enough to fill me up (along with some fries I pinched from Scott's plate). Scott got a conch burger and we resisted the lure of Kalik beers and just drank water. Between the two of us, we had a great lunch for $16, which is fairly reasonable for the Bahamas. Better yet, we had the company of good friends.

Eventually, it was time to say goodbye - to Green Turtle Cay and to the crew of S/V Wild Blue. Tears were shed as we all dinghied off to our boats. We heard Charlie and Jane yell out, "Bye Frank and Pantsy! We'll see you back at Indiantown!"

Now, you may be asking yourself, "Who the heck are Frank and Pantsy? Did I miss something? Did they get a couple of kittens and name them Frank and Pantsy?"

No, we didn't get any kittens (see, I couldn't help myself with talking about cats again). Scott and I changed our names to Frank and Pantsy. Or rather, Jane and Charlie renamed us Frank and Pantsy. I'm pretty sure it happened that night I wore a toaster on my head.

Turns out, Jane and Charlie give everyone nicknames. Especially people they haven't met yet and don't know what their names are. Before we got to know them back at Indiantown Marina, Jane and Charlie would talk about this crazy lady who wore pants around the marina. They thought it was a bit odd that someone would wear pants in the intense Florida heat. So they called me "Pants Lady". Personally, my legs are the last part of me to get hot and I find loose pants comfortable, even in the heat. And keep in mind I have short, pudgy legs. They look better covered in pants.

{Note to our British readers - pants in this context means trousers, not underwear. Please don't worry that I was walking around the marina in my pants. I mean I was, but the type of pants you wear over your pants. And I had pants on under my pants. Make sense? I hope so, because both Scott and I have had some very embarrassing moments when we lived in Scotland talking about pants.}

The night of the toaster wearing, they told us about my alter ego - Pants Lady. Somehow, it got shortened up to Pantsy and, somewhere along the line, Scott acquired the name Frank. We even signed our new names on some wooden clothespins that Charlie and Jane had hanging up on their lifelines. Now they can always remember us when they hang their pants up to dry.

I actually think signing clothespins is a pretty neat idea. Every time you have friends over to visit your boat, have them sign and decorate a wooden clothespin as a little souvenir. Then whenever you're doing the wash, you can remember the fun times you had with them. I'm sure Martha Stewart has already thought this one up and is making millions selling clothespin decorating kits. Oh well, another money making opportunity lost.

After saying goodbye, Frank and Pantsy headed off to Powell Cay. It was one of the places we had missed when on our way down to the southern Abacos. We had a nice little sail, found ourselves at a pretty anchorage and managed to snug ourselves up close to shore without grounding ourselves. The perfect place for Frank and Pantsy to get over their buddy boat blues.
 
LOGBOOK NOTES | Saturday, 30 May - Sunday, 31 May 2015

• Total Nautical Miles - 12
• Anchor Up - Green Turtle Cay
• Anchor Down - Powell Cay
• Water & Diesel - Bought 5 gallons of drinking water and 6.2 gallons of diesel at the Green Turtle Club marina 

Next time on the blog...we meet some new folks at Powell Cay and Scott turns into a boy racer as we make our way to Allans-Pensacola Cay. Tune in to see if he won or lost.

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Happy Birthday Mr Blog & Random Thoughts On Blogging

It's time to bake a chocolate cake - someone is having a birthday! Mr Blog turns two years old on Sunday. Can you believe that we've been blogging for two years now and that this is our 331st post?

When Mr Blog turned a year old, I reflected on what makes a good blog and shared some tips that I had gleamed from others (see here). This year (in addition to having chocolate cake), I thought I would celebrate Mr Blog's birthday by sharing some random thoughts about our blog and blogging in general.

Oh, and by the way, even though it was a huge flop last year, I've decided to reinstate the Mr Blog the Cat competition, in honor of Mr Blog's birthday. Mr Blog likes cats. Scott won't let him have any. Mr Blog isn't going to share any of his chocolate cake with Scott. The big meanie. Okay, here's how it works. If you want to enter the competition, email a picture of your cat (or dog or other fluffy animal, heck, even your pet armadillo is welcome to participate) to thecynicalsailor (at) gmail (dot) com. The winner will get the dubious privilege of having their critter's picture posted on the blog. Maybe there will be other prizes too. Or not.

It turns out Facebook is fun!

Who would have thought that Facebook could be fun. After having resisted Facebook for years and years, I went to the dark side last year in order to access some sailing related groups. After that, I created a Facebook page for our blog, mostly as another way to publish links to our blog posts. Turns out you can have so much more fun with Facebook! You can see in real time what people are up to in places you want to go to one day. You can read inspirational posters people create and then get inspired to create some of your own. You can even "talk" to people through comments and messages. Who knew? I'm such a late bloomer when it comes to social media, or is that a slow learner?

Don't even think about putting us in a box.

When we started this blog two years ago, we created it specifically as a sailing blog, whatever that means. I didn't even know what a blog was until three years ago (remember, I'm a slow learner). The first blogs I ever got into were sailing blogs. Scott had sent me links to a few to get me onboard with this crazy "buy a boat and go cruising" dream of his. 

I absolutely loved reading about other people's adventures - their mistakes, their successes, the funny things they got up to, what kind of boat they had etc. I absolutely hated seeing the pictures of all of the girls in bikinis on tropical beaches. They made me feel pudgy. Especially when I was eating brownies while reading the skinny girls' blogs. Fortunately, I found out middle-aged women also write blogs. Some of them were even pudgy too. I figured, heck, why not start a blog of my own. A blog about our own journey to become cruisers. The first year or so of our blog is pretty much about that - because that's what I was a little bit obsessed with at the time.

Guess what though? Turns out, our life is about more than just sailing. As time went by, I found I started writing posts about lots of other things, mostly travel related, but also some quirky posts that don't have much to do with anything (like polar bear spotting) or some reflective posts as part of the A to Z Blogging Challenge.

When we were between boats, we ended up buying a 13' Scamp travel trailer and headed off on an extended land cruise around the States. I started reading tons of RV blogs and starting blogging about our teeny-tiny camper and our travels on land. Suddenly, things were starting to look less like a sailing blog and more like an RV blog. Some earlier followers who were primarily interested in boats stopped popping by the blog, but we also got new followers who were interested in our RV adventures. 

One day, I worried about this while eating a brownie. What type of blog are we? What genre do we fit in? Is anyone still interested in what we write about?

Then the plate of brownies was gone and I stopped worrying about it. Because I remembered the whole point of this blog - it's about us, our experiences, what makes us laugh and the nonsense we get up to. You can't put us in a box because we're about more than sailing or RVing or brownies. Our blog is about our random life and whatever we're currently obsessed with. Some people may enjoy reading the randomness. Some people may not. Some people may be into boats. Some people may not. Some people may be into RVs. Some people may not. Of course, everyone is into brownies. That goes without question.

So there you go, you can't box us in. Unless the box is filled with brownies. Then, I'll happily jump in.

There are some big meanies out there. Boo.

A blogger I know showed me an email one of her followers had sent her. It was downright mean. This person was unhappy with what she was writing about and how she was going about it. I seriously couldn't believe it. Although we've had a few comments over the past couple of years that border on nasty (and surprisingly are always written by the same person - Mr Anonymous), we've never gotten hate mail from our followers. I'm not sure people get it - if you don't like someone's blog, don't read it. It's free entertainment after all. If you're not entertained, then go elsewhere. 

By the way, the blogger in question wrote a very polite email back to this big meanie. I'm not sure what I would have done. What would you have done?

For me, writing is thinking through my keyboard.

I started making "inspirational" posters a couple of months ago. They're fun to make - like arts and crafts on the computer. And so easy to do - take a photo, slap on a quote that inspires you (or makes you laugh) and presto, you've created your very own poster. 

I particularly like this one because it really captures what I like about writing and says is so much better than I ever could. Which kind of sums of the difference between an ordinary blogger like me and a proper writer like James Michener.

I'm an introverted thinker, which means I process my experiences and my emotions inside of me. Then I spill them all out randomly when I talk. Usually without any context whatsoever. No wonder Scott always looks so perplexed. What I love about writing this blog is that it is a great way to think through my keyboard and articulate our travel adventures and other nonsense in the written word.

So there you go, some random thoughts on our blog and blogging. What do you think about blogs, blogging and big meanies?

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In Search Of Whales & Other Scary Stuff | The Whale Cay Passage, Bahamas

I'm scared of so much stuff already, now I have to add roosters to the list?! Sign seen at Green Turtle Cay.

Everybody is scared of something.

If someone tells you that nothing scares them, then there just scared of admitting that they're like the rest of us - human. All humans feel fear. It's normal. So's taking pictures of tiny polar bears at Death Valley. Perfectly normal. Just saying.

Of course, we're all are scared of different things. Which is good, otherwise things would be boring and nothing would get done. Imagine if we were all scared of getting burned using an oven. The world would be unthinkable - who would make the chocolate chip cookies that sustain us during times of fear? Yes, I rely on large amounts of cookies to get me through scary events.

Do you talk about what you're scared of?

Scott is one of those reserved types from North Dakota. They don't say much and they certainly don't talk about personal stuff too easily. Like what they're scared of. So, he might come across as not being scared of anything. But, he is. We all are. Me, on the other hand, I'll confess my fears to anyone who will listen. I'm a walking poster child for all scaredy cats out there. I'm Queen of the Scaredy Cats (this would make a fabulous t-shirt, by the way).

Guess what, sailing freaks me out. 

There's some scary stuff out there. Like whales. No, I don't mean whales are scary on their own. They're incredible. They're amazing. They're beautiful. I would love to see some, but just not right next to my boat. And certainly not coming up underneath my boat and bashing it into tiny pieces. Now, the thought of that is downright scary. Pass the cookies, please.

Unfortunately, there is a cut you have to go through to get from one side of the Abacos to the other. It's called the Whale Cay Passage. Any alarm bells ringing for anyone? Unless you have a really shallow draft, if you want to get from the central Abacos to the southern Abacos, you have to go out into the Atlantic Ocean, around Whale Cay, down through the Loggerhead Pass and into an old cruise ship channel. After that, you can breathe a sigh of relief. 

I was scared we were going to run into a posse of whales.

Turns out, what you're supposed to be afraid of are the rages. These aren't the types of rages you experience when someone eats the last chocolate chip cookie that you were counting on. Nope. As our trusty Waterway Guide describes them, these are "powerful, turbulent and lethal seas." I can almost live with the terms "powerful" and "turbulent", but lethal. That's a whole different story. Lethal means you can die. As if I didn't have enough to worry about, what with the cookie supply getting low.

The trick is to only do the passage when the weather conditions are right. When we made the passage coming down to the southern Abacos, the weather was brilliant. Flat, calm seas. Easy peasey. Piece of cake.

Coming back, things were entirely different. The weather was unsettled and the wind was kicking up a bit too high. So, we had to wait for a weather window. Sailors love talking about the weather, thinking about the weather and dreaming about the weather (or is that having nightmares about the weather). After all, when the weather is bad, you could die. You can see why it's important, can't you? The possibility of death brings a certain focus on things.

Cruisers obsess over the weather. After all, it can kill you.

When we were in the central Abacos, we struggled to get any weather information on our VHF. The few times we were able to get free WiFi, the first thing we would do is check the weather sites, like Barometer Bob. Not email, not Facebook, not the news - just the weather. Basically, it was all a crapshoot as to what the next day would hold in terms of weather. Fortunately, the weather was pretty darn good, all the way until we got to the southern Abacos. 

Fortunately, once you get down south, you can pick up the Abacos cruisers net on your VHF every morning. You tune in with a cup of coffee in hand and listen to the deep, resonant voice of Skip of S/V Flying Pig, the net controller (I wonder if he was a radio announcer in the "real world"?). You get the latest weather forecast, condition reports for the various cuts and passages, hear questions and announcements from fellow cruisers and listen to advertisements from local businesses. By the time you're done listening to the advertisements, you're really hungry, as all they do is talk about the fabulous food and drink on offer at various establishments. We're cheap and cheerful travelers, so we never did patronize any of the local haunts, but they all sounded delicious - pig roasts, tropical drinks, burgers etc. In fact I'm getting hungry as I write this - what I wouldn't give for some Bahamian mac n'cheese right now.

We listened each morning and held off making our way back up north for a few days as a result of the forecast. Which is smart. It's that whole avoiding death thing, or at the very least avoiding an unpleasant passage. Our pals from S/V Wild Blue left the day before us. They later reported that it was quite lumpy with 6 ft/1.83 m rollers. I think their cats puked during the passage. Never a good sign.

Lumpy and rollers - two of my favorite words. Try working them into conversation at your next cocktail party.

Lumpy. Don't you just love that word? It makes me think of mattresses which need replacing, the cellulite on my thighs and the bumps and bruises I get bashing into things on our boat in lumpy seas. Sailors like to use the term lumpy to describe choppy waves. 

And rollers. Another great word. It makes me think of rolling the dice at a casino and being rolled in the streets by a mugger for your casino winnings. Sailors like to use the term to describe heavy, swelling waves that break on the coast.

Lumpy seas and rollers. That doesn't sound too bad when you put it that way. But when you're experiencing it, I think there are some naughty works that might describe things better. 

When we headed back up north through the Whale Cay Passage, we too had lumpy seas and 6 ft/1.83 m rollers. Fortunately, they weren't overly lumpy or roller-like. Which was good, given the state of our cookie supply. The passage was okay. Not great, but okay. And the best part of all, there wasn't a single whale to be seen! We anchored peacefully at Green Turtle Cay with our boat intact.

LOGBOOK NOTES | Friday, 29 May 2015

• Total Nautical Miles - 23
• Anchor Up - Matt Lowe's Cay
• Anchor Down - Green Turtle Cay
• Sails Soaring & Engines Roaring - we had the sails up for the entire passage, but put the engine on as we made our way through the cut as the wind was directly behind us
• Number of Bob Marley Songs Butchered - 2 (that night sitting in our cockpit, we were "treated" to a concert by a really bad singer somewhere on Green Turtle Cay)
• Number of Goombay Smashes - Nil (see, we have some sort of self-control, even when it comes to the Blue Bee bar in Green Turtle Cay)

Next time on the blog...it's time to bake a chocolate cake, someone's having a birthday!

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Stupid Can Openers | Marsh Harbour, Bahamas

Cans are a wonderful thing. Inside their metal bodies they hold the secret to happiness. Food.

Food like sauerkraut, beans, potatoes, corn and tomatoes. We eat a surprising amount of canned tomatoes. For some strange reason, Scott will only eat cooked tomatoes. He turns his nose up at fresh tomatoes. Weird, huh? But, I don't like avocados, so maybe that makes me weird too.

When you live on a boat or in an RV (or are some sort of prepper getting ready for the apocalypse), then cans are a wonderful thing. Food stuffed in metal cans lasts forever. You can eat cans of tomatoes you stocked up on ten years ago when they were on sale and they're still good. Apparently, Twinkies have the same longevity. Remember Twinkies? Imagine how much longer they would last if they were stuffed into cans. When I was growing up, we weren't allowed to eat processed food at home. So, I secretly ate Twinkies at my friends' houses. That's probably what stunted my growth.

The only problem with cans, whether they're stuffed with tomatoes or Twinkies, is that they need to be opened. And you need a special tool to do so - the magic can opener. Otherwise, you're going to go very, very hungry.

I don't know if this happens to you with your partner/spouse, but, sometimes, the things I say to Scott come back to bite me. For years, I've been harping on about how important it is to have a back-up can opener, safely sealed in a Ziploc bag to protect it from rusting. Just in case of the unlikely event that the primary can opener breaks.

Like many husbands, Scott has mastered the art of pretending to listen to me and seeming deeply interested in what I am talking about. He nods at the appropriate time and repeats back bits of what I've said to him. "Yeah, sure Ellen. Can openers, Ziploc bags and Twinkies. Important stuff. Fascinating." All the while, he is daydreaming about racing, sail trim and what's for dinner.

One day, tragedy stuck. Our can opener broke. Tired of life and not able to bear the thought of opening another can, it just fell apart on the counter into pieces. I cried out in anguish, "Scott! What are we going to do about dinner?"

"No problem, Ellen. Just dig out that spare can opener sealed up in a Ziploc bag." Turns out this was the one time he had actually been listening to me. He knew all about my obsession with spare can openers. 

Hmm...guess what we didn't have on the boat.

Guess who rubbed it in.

Right about this time, our pals from S/V Wild Blue, Charlie and Jane, popped by for happy hour. Not only did they bring beer, but they also brought a can of bean salad. "Ellen, pass up a can opener and a bowl and we can snack on this with our beers." Charlie ended up opening the can with a screwdriver. It seemed like a real hassle. Fortunately, we had something else to eat that night for dinner which didn't require a can opener or a screwdriver.

This all happened while we were anchored in Marsh Habour. I can't say that we loved the place. Honestly, I'm not even sure why we anchored there three nights. But we did for some reason. It's a big harbor with plenty of room for lots of boats. Seems like a really popular place. For us, though, it didn't have the charm of some of the other places we've visited in the Abacos, like Green Turtle Cay and Hopetown. We don't even have any pictures of Marsh Harbour, which tells you something.

Marsh Harbour is a big town. And the good thing about big towns is that they have big stores. Like Maxwell's, a large grocery store similar to what you would find in the States. They have everything you could possibly need, including can openers for $6. It seemed like a lot of money for a can opener, but needs must and all that. So, we forked it over. 

Speaking of forking money over, did you know that Bahamian money and American money are interchangeable? The Bahamian dollar is pegged to the US dollar so the exchange rate is fixed at 1:1. You can pay for stuff in US dollars, in Bahamian dollars or in a mix of the two. The Bahamian pennies have starfish on them. Much prettier than ours. Sorry, Abe.

We used our new can opener that night. I'm pretty sure we had pasta with tomato sauce. The second night I went to use the can opener. It broke. The brand spanking new can opener. Broken. The only way we could open cans was for Scott to use our brand spanking new can opener as some sort of stabbing device to pierce the lid open. Slow and tedious, but better than a screwdriver.

By this point, we had left Marsh Harbour and were anchored at nearby Matt Lowes's Cay. Otherwise, we would have returned the stupid can opener and got our $6 back - in either US or Bahamian dollars. 

When we got back to the States, guess what one of the first things I did was. Yep, bought a new can opener. Guess what's on my list of things to buy for the boat. Yep, a spare can opener. Or two. Maybe even three. I don't think you can have too many onboard.

LOGBOOK NOTES | Monday, 25 May - Thursday, 28 May 2015

Nautical Miles - 15
Anchor Up - Elbow Cay (outside of Hopetown)
Snorkeling Stop - Garden Cay
Anchorage #1 - Marsh Harbour (three nights)
Anchorage #2 - Matt Lowe's Cay (one night)
Number of Stupid Can Openers - 2
Cost of Laundry in Marsh Harbour - $2.50 (top tip - don't use Bahamian coins in the washer, it jams it up, stick with American coins)
Cost of Bread - $3 (cheap as chips for the Bahamas)
Free Trash - down the street from the Union Jack dinghy dock

Next time on the blog...we make it through the Whale Cay Passage and head back to Green Turtle Cay. We didn't see one single whale along the way. I think that's probably a good thing when you're going through a cut with lumpy seas.

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June In Numbers

1 - View from Hopetown lighthouse in the Bahamas. 2 - Tickety Boo in her slip at Indiantown Marina. 3 - The best purchase we've ever made - an A/C!

It's time for our usual monthly recap in numbers. We continued our shakedown cruise in the Bahamas during the first part of June and then returned to Indiantown, Florida, where we plan on living on our boat during hurricane season.

• 6 - Number of days we spent in the Bahamas during June.
• Nil - Number of cookies I ate on our Gulf Stream crossing from the Bahamas to Florida. For those of you know how much I dread sailing in the dark, this is a huge surprise. The secret to night passages is to eat lots of cookies. They distract you from the scary stuff like freighters and icebergs. Turns out crossing the Gulf Stream wasn't so scary after all.
• $13.99 - Average cost per night for our boat. This number will go up next month as we live aboard our boat at the marina during hurricane season.
• 8 - Number of days anchored out in the Bahamas.
• 2 - Number of days anchored out in Florida
• 22 - Number of days as liveaboards at Indiantown Marina, Florida.
• 2 - The number of times we had takeaway pizza from Dee Stefanos in Indiantown. On Mondays and Tuesdays you can get a medium cheese for under ten bucks. While it might not be the best pizza we've ever had, it sure beats cooking and it's relatively cheap.
• 4 - Number of days we laid around like useless slugs doing absolutely nothing. The heat at Indiantown has been insane. If we had been actual slugs, we would have melted into little pools of slime. Instead, we sweated water out faster then we could replenish it and kept saying to each other, "Don't touch me, you're hot!"
• 1 - The number of air conditioners we bought for our boat. I don't think I've ever been so excited about anything in my life. Seriously, spending the summer in southern Florida, where the real feel temp is routinely 100F/38C and above, is just unthinkable without air conditioning. I don't think I'm ever going to leave the boat again. It's just too dang hot out there.
• 1 - Number of sad farewells. At the end of June, Scott headed back to Scotland for a while to take care of some work and other stuff.
• 1 - Number of cats I want to sneak aboard our boat. His name is Sylvester and he's one of the marina cats. Black and white, adorable and loves cuddles (on his terms, of course). Scott absolutely doesn't want a boat cat, but since he's gone, he'll never know if I secretly adopt Sylvester.

Here are some of our favorite posts during June that you may have missed:

Bahamian Bits & Bobs
Sailing in the Dark & Eating Mediocre Cookie
Wearing a Toaster on my Head & Disappointing Pigs | No Name Cay

Hope you had a great (and cool) June and are having an even more amazing July!

Thanks for stopping by our blog - we love it when people come visit! We're also on Facebook - we'd love for you to pop by and say hi!  

Square Mac N'Cheese & A Striped Lighthouse | Hopetown, Bahamas

I have a confession to make. I'm not really a big fan of mac n'cheese. Which, for an American, borders a bit on heresy. The stuff is chucked on trays in school cafeterias around the country and the kiddies lap it up. Then as adults, they cook up a pot of the yellow, gooey stuff as the ultimate go to comfort food. Seeing one of those Kraft blue mac n'cheese boxes brings back fond childhood memories for many. But for me, it does nothing. I don't hate the stuff. It isn't something I have to politely choke down when someone serves it for dinner (unlike the dreaded beetroot and sweet potato/kumara). I just don't love it. I certainly don't crave it. And I certainly wouldn't ask for seconds.

But what I do crave is a square of Bahamian mac n'cheese. Yes, you read that right, a square. Those Bahamians know how to do things right. They bake it up in some sort of casserole and cut into squares. This is the type of thing I want seconds and third of. Heaven forbid if someone tries to get the last square. I'd probably stab a fork into the back of their hand, grab the last square and sign contentedly. And gloat. I'd definitely gloat.

I had my first square in Hopetown at a little snack shack. My stomach was grumbling and I spied a sign which promised mac n'cheese for only $4. Everything costs way more than $4 in the Bahamas, even bread. I'm all about value, so mac n'cheese it was. And it was good. Beyond good. It was delicious. 

If you're a frugal traveler like we are and ever find yourself in Hopetown, head to the snack shack across from Vernon's  Grocery Store & Bakery. If you don't like mac n'cheese (What?!! You must not be American!), there's plenty of other things to choose from and everything is so much cheaper then if you eat in a proper sit down restaurant. I don't know the name of the place, but everyone knows Vernon's, ask for directions and they'll point you in the right direction.

We bought a loaf of coconut bread at Vernon's. Fascinating place, for a grocery store that is. Vernon is a direct descendant of the founder of Hopetown settlement, so he probably knows the ultimate recipe for Bahamian mac n'cheese. Sadly, I forgot to ask him. What he definitely knows about is key lime pie. He's famous for it. Our pals, Charlie and Jane from S/V Wild Blue, bought a pie and shared some with us. I'd never had key lime pie before. Turns out it is a lot like lemon meringue pie, but with limes. Go figure. It was good, but one slice was enough. I didn't feel the need to stab anyone in the back of the hand to get another slice.

In addition to running the shop, Vernon is also a Methodist minister. As you walk around the store, you'll find all sorts of inspirational and humorous sayings posted on little scraps of paper on the shelves, walls, windows, cash register - everywhere. You can spend hours discovering them as you look at the wares for sale and you're bound to find one that resonates with you or tickles your funny bone. 

Hopetown is a cute little town located on Elbow Cay in the Abacos. The place is full of energy, the pastel houses sparkle in the sunlight, the people stop to chat and everyone seems happy. Must be the mac n'cheese. 

Hopetown is probably best known for its red and white striped lighthouse. It kind of looks like a giant candy cane. It's adorable. Stripes do have that effect. I think the lighthouse would look even better with polka dots, but that would probably take a lot of effort to repaint it.

I don't know about those people climbing up the steps. They look like troublemakers.

There are a lot of steps you have to climb up to get to the top. We met a woman coming down who is scared to death of heights. She was shaking and trembling, but so proud of herself for making it to the top, as she should be. She totally deserved a giant piece of mac n'cheese as a reward for her courage.

See the sign that says, "Danger - Do Not Touch"? Doesn't that just make you want to touch them, whatever they are? My guess is some sort of still.

As you make your way up the stairs, stop to catch your breath and peek out the window at the harbor.

Keep climbing. It is so worth it with amazing views like these.

The Hopetownians (what do you call someone from Hopetown?) are rightly proud of their lighthouse. They've even incorporated it into the Fire & Rescue logo.

The only downside of eating mac n'cheese is that it goes directly to your tummy and sticks to it like glue, creating these unpleasant bulges that make it difficult to zip up your shorts at times. So, we went for a stroll around Hopetown to try to work off some of those calories. Everywhere you look you see some sort of boat.

I love these old fishing doo-dads. All the different colors and shapes. They kind of look like giant hard candies. All this talk of candy is making me hungry. Sorry, need to go now and see if I can whip up some mac n'cheese.

Want to know more about Hopetown? Check out this site here.

LOGBOOK NOTES | Friday 22 May - Sunday 24 May 2015

Total Nautical Miles - 4
Total Time - I have absolutely no idea (note to self, keep better notes)
Anchor Up - Man O'War Cay
Anchor Down - Elbow Cay, outside of Hopetown Harbour
Best Coconut Bread Ever - Vernon's 
Number of Mediocre Dinners - 1 (overpriced for what we got)
Number of Awesome Squares of Mac N'Cheese - 1 (perfectly priced)

Next time on the blog...we take a little break for our usual monthly roundup in numbers. But right after that, we get back to our Bahamian adventures with some thoughts on stupid can openers and why three days in Marsh Harbour is three days too many.

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