Part 3 -- Marsh Harbour to Hopetown
Monday morning, we wake for sunrise over Baker's Bay and grab a quick breakfast of yogurt and granola, before sailing out of the anchorage for our appointment with the mechanic in Marsh Harbour. However, it soon becomes apparent that we will not make it on time under sail, so we cranked up the engines (one works fine, and the damaged one functions in forward). When we checked in with Mike on the radio, we promised a 10:15 arrival but didn't make it in til 10:30 which is not bad for island time. (Of course, I've found that despite the legend of Island Time -- Abaconians are very punctual people; if someone sets a time, they are always there at the appointed hour. It is only where timing is discretionary that people fall into the easy and leisurely rhythms of island life.)
We left the boat in Mike's hands and Theresa and I walked over to Harbour View Marina for $2 showers. We also took advantage of this detour to re-stock our alarmingly declining supply of Kalik and junk food. Lunch was at the Conch Inn, where I stuck with conch burgers (those who opted for non-native foods were somewhat disappointed). On the way back to the Sail Abaco docks, we picked up a large, fresh grouper filet and some nice tomatos at Long's Landing Seafood, which the lady at the counter kindly placed in a bag full of crushed ice.
By late afternoon, the engine was fixed and we were ready to hit the high seas again. A major cold front was forecast to come through in the next few days, so Mike advised us to seek a snug anchorage protected from the north and west. Also, we wanted to be somewhere with plenty of diversions in the event we were stuck in one particular harbour for a few days. These requirements limited our choices somewhat, but we opted for Hopetown harbour. Given the late hour, we motored.
The Hopetown Lighthouse soon appeared in view, and I felt a little tug at my heart. Elbow Cay had been our Abaco base in years past, and seeing that little red and white striped beacon, stalwart against monster storms, touched a responsive chord in my overly sentimental heart. But we soon had to get down to the serious business of anchoring in this busy and crowded harbour, especially since all moorings were already reserved. Relying on Mike's good advice, we chose a spot between a catamaran named Trappy and Harbour's Edge, and found good, firm holding in adequate depth on our first try.
The harbour hasn't changed much since our last visit 2 years ago. A new-looking house here, a porch there. We dinked over to town and had a pre-dinner stroll in town. We followed the signs to the North Beach access; while the town looks the same, the beach has a whole different shape -- the flat part much narrower, the bluffs now more sloped -- but still beautiful. Many beachfront homes battered beyond repair. The tiny Lizard Lodge on the street side of Crew's Nest house is gone. Hopetown Harbour Lodge's accommodations are still in need of much work, but the pool looks wonderful. We returned to Easy Breeze for dinner, where I put together grouper, potato, tomato and onion slices, and butter and seasoning in foil, tossed it on the grill (a propane job -- thank you very much Sail Abaco!) for 15 minutes for a very easy and delicious boat dinner.
We stayed awake til 9pm tonight -- our latest night so far -- but were awakened by harbour noises and partying at Harbour's Edge. That didn't last long. Woke again at first light on Tuesday morning, watching the cycle of the lighthouse wind down as the sun rose over town and pinkened the sky. The sounds of roosters, ocean surf and mourning doves accompanies me.
Before making our plans for Tuesday, we checked in with the Cruiser's Net. The promised cold front was probably coming tonight, so we decided to make arrangements for shelter. All of the moorings were taken, but we made arrangements to dock alongside at Hopetown Marina/Club Soleil for $25. With dock space reserved, we are able to go exploring today to what is now my SECOND favorite spot in the Abacos (after the newly visited Baker's Bay area) -- Tilloo Bank, a huge sand bar extending for a mile or more from the beach at Tilloo Cay and blessed with crystalline waters.
En route to Tilloo, we sailed and motor sailed, spying old familiar and favorite haunts from past visits. From a distance, White Sound (where we've stayed at Sea Spray) looks very different, with that new sand dune. But Tahiti Beach looks the same. By late morning, we are anchoring just off Tilloo Bank which you can recognize from a distance as a glowing turquoise blue smudge in a much darker sea. Cap'n Rick determined that a Bahamian moor was appropriate, given the outgoing tide and winds.
Within minutes, we are dinking right over the Bank, and before Cap'n Rick can even toss out an anchor, I'm over the side, snorkeling for treasure. For among the giant starfish of this vast sand bank can be found bleached white sand dollars and sea biscuits. The current created by the outgoing tide forces us to be wary of drifting too far. After I've collected some booty to place in my mesh dive bag, I decide to swim back to the boat and make lunch (shrimp pasta salad), but I had to rest a while to recover from that against-the-current slog. By the way, the water temperature was just right. Not warm, but not too chilly.
After lunch, we landed on the beach, which at low tide is ripe for exploration beyond the normal parameters. Unfortunately, in my travels, I stepped on a dead sea urchin still spiny, which left the arch of my foot and big toe bleeding and sore (but I was able to remove most of the spines and recovery was swift). By late afternoon, we were back to Hopetown and Club Soleil. We'd hoped to have showers at the marina, but Rudy informed us that they were out of water until the barge came (but no one told the other bathers . . .). So, we took turns in the boat's shower and then had a dinner of grilled steak, browned potatoes and salad. After dinner, we went to Club Soleil for drinks, and were asleep by 9:30.
At 3 am, the promised front roared through. Heavy rains and strong winds, making me glad to be securely tied to a dock instead of worrying about our anchor dragging.
