Part 2 -- Baker's Bay
Sunday morning, I woke with the sun. My body feels like its 6am, but -- UGH! -- its already 7am because Daylight Savings Time is robbing me of an hour of vacation. After a gourmet breakfast of Pop-Tarts, we tune in to CH 68 on the VHF to check out the Cruiser's Net. We hear lots of familiar names and store forecast wind directions and wind speeds in our memories.
Mike Houghton turns up a little bit later to give us our chart briefing and some orientation on boat stuff we haven't already figured out. Rather than the briefing room and videotape production that the Moorings provides, Cap'n Rick and I sit down with Mike in the saloon of the cat and page through the Dodge bible (the Steve Dodge cruising guide to the Abacos), chatting about our respective favorite spots and plans for the week. By 10:30, we are off to Baker's Bay, with a promise to return Monday morning for engine repairs.
My crew needs a little convincing of how physically lovely the Abacos are (they've already encountered the friendly and warm spirit). Thus far, they've only seen the less-than-inspiring view you get as you approach Marsh Harbour from the air, some commercial areas of town, and the harbour (which I think is kind of pretty). This day redeems me and my cruise directing fully. As the sun rises in the sky, the day gets warmer, and as we sail across the Sea of Abaco, we're stripping down to swimsuits (and less . . .). By noon, we are pulling into broad and shallow Baker's Bay, eyeing giant starfish on the sandy bottom 4 feet below us. We set the anchor fast and firm on our first try. When Cap'n Rick dives the anchor, he declares the water temperature "bracing," which he later amends to a more comfortable "refreshing."
Lunch is sandwiches made with Bahamian bread and Kaliks. What drug do they put in it which makes it the best bread I've ever eaten? Then we pack our gear and pile into the dinghy, motoring past the deserted cruise ship facilities and around the corner to the Northwest Beach, dazzling with white sand, clear turquoise water, and butterflies flitting among the casuarinas. It's so pretty, my eyes hurt. This is my first visit to this beach, and I can't believe it can get any better, but just around the bend, it does. There, we face the electric green of the Atlantic Ocean -- a color I've only witnessed in these latitudes. I can't resist the surf and so dive into it, body-surfing a bit. We walked forever, then returned to the Northwest Beach, which was by then deserted (and, hence, nekkid). I rate this beach experience an 8.5 (out of 10) the only possible improvements being: no other people, a few palm trees, and an honour bar (like the one on Smuggler's Cove in Tortola, which is a shack with a refrigerator full of beer and soda and a cigar box for payment).
Late afternoon finds us returning to Easy Breeze to transition to evening activities and clean up a bit. We made a sundowner platter of crackers, sausage, cherry tomatos and cheese and packed it into our cooler with Kaliks, and dinghy it all over to the Baker's Bay beach, where a picnic table conveniently sits for our early evening Kalik-nic. We took a very long walk down to the cruise ship facilities where we explored a bit and chatted with a cruising family from Minnesota. I'm thankful Mother Nature saw fit to shut down cruise ship action on this end of Guana Cay, to spare it all for more contemplative and less commercial enjoyment. After our long walk back and dinghy ride, we listened to tunes, made shrimp creole for dinner, and drank our newly-invented cocktail which we named Mountain Dew (a combination of ginger ale and Don Lorenzo pineapple rum, which I was told by the owner of Lighthouse Liquors is the very same blend as the Don Ricardo pineapple rum, just in a different bottle. Well, the new rum is the same unfortunate color as engine coolant, which, when mixed with ginger ale, yields a canary yellow cocktail. No matter it tastes wonderful and can be as lethal as you want it to be).
Bedtime follows shortly after sunset, and it's a bit chilly at night, but we all sleep well on the hook. The few times I did wake, I saw a starry sky through the hatch and fall quickly back to sleep.
