Bye-Bye Bahamas, Hello Turks

Aaron checking sail trim en route to Mayaguana

Life on Clarity has been vastly different in the last few days – a change that we’re soaking in, and also having trouble wrapping our heads around.

We spent almost two months in Georgetown and near the end, it truly felt like we would never get out of there. Not that we didn’t love it – we did – but it was a long time for us in one place. Too long. We finally dusted off the proverbial cobwebs and set sail a week ago to Long Island for the night. The next morning, we pulled anchor and sailed 33 hours straight, past the Acklins, to Mayaguana, the eastern-most island in the Bahamas. It was our longest sail to date, and it was perfect. The winds, for the most part, were steady, and we were able to sail the whole way without turning the engine on. The night shifts were a dream, with a full moon lighting the horizon.

After after a delicious dinner of freshly caught Mahi with our friends on Upside Up, who buddy-boated with us there from Georgetown, we wished them well on their sail to the Dominican Republic and prepared to take advantage of the weather the next day and sail the rest of the way to the Turks and Caicos. It was only 40 miles away, but a whole world of difference that I’m still having a hard time comprehending.

The cut into Turtle Cove Marina was tricky one, to say the least. The darker colors you see in the water here are all part of the coral reef, and the waves you see crashing in the distance are at the wall of the reef. The marina sent out a guideboat to lead us safely through the winding path, which at times was not much wider than our boat itself.

We’ve spent the last four days in Providenciales (referred to as “Provo”), and it’s been almost the complete antithesis of our lifestyle for the past four months. For one, since anchoring out the first night to stage for high tide the next morning, we’ve been staying in a slip in Turtle Cove Marina. The options here in Provo for anchoring are limited, so a marina was the best option. Also, we knew we wanted to rent a car for a few days and tour the island – all much easier to do when it’s just a step off the boat, rather than a dinghy ride to town.

Right – a car! What is this amazing thing known as convenience and quick traveling? I’d all but forgotten what it’s like to make a plan to go somewhere and get there in minutes. Provisioning has also been an absolute dream. Not having to cart the groceries back in the dinghy in garbage bags to protect them from getting drenched with salt water on the ride back to the boat is like a trip to Disneyland for us. Not to mention that the grocery store here is the closest we’ve seen to those in the States since Marsh Harbor in the Abacos, albeit at island prices.

We’ve also managed to eat our way through town. Thai, Chinese, Indian, gourmet food trucks… We’ve probably (happily) gained five pounds each. The cuisine in the Bahamas was fried conch, period – and at prices just as high as here, or comparable to restaurants in Chicago or New York City.

There are also – wait for it – paved roads, highways and sidewalks! Sidewalks did not exist in the Bahamas, at least in any of the areas we visited. It was every man for themselves, and the local drivers did not exactly follow the pedestrians-first rule.

Sunset at Turtle Cove

BUT – as amazing as this all sounds – YES, CIVILIZATION! – I’m already feeling the pull to move on. We’ve come to realize that here in Provo, it’s as if affluent suburbs in the States were picked up and transported to an island. The Turks and Caicos are considered the British West Indies, and they are their own country – however, their currency is the U.S. dollar.

We’ve been to almost every area of this island, and I have no true sense of any culture other than American tourist. The beaches are crowded with people and lined by resort after resort. And the experiences have been commercialized to capitalize on the tourism industry. Care to visit the conch farm, or the plantation ruins? A fee per person. Want to visit the neighboring island to see the native iguanas? A considerable fee per person just to set foot on the beach.

This isn’t necessarily a bad thing – certainly, the tourism industry is the lifeline of the islands. But to put things in perspective, we could have experienced any of these things in the Bahamas – visited an old plantation, frolicked with iguanas (do iguanas frolic?) – but at no charge, and likely with very few other people in the same anchorage, if any. They just offered a more authentic experience – something we crave in this lifestyle.

Claire enjoying the silty sand in the Five Cays settlement in Provo

In the interest of full disclosure, though, we have only been on one island so far of this 40-island chain. I imagine that Grand Turk, where the capital is, is very similar, as it is where the cruise ships dock. Likely, some of the other islands offer a more subdued experience – but we won’t have the opportunity to visit many of them.

To clear immigration and customs here in the Turks and Caicos, the cost is $100 for seven days ($50 to clear in, $50 to clear out). After that, you are required to pay $300 for up to 90 days – whether you stay for eight days or 89 days, the price is the same. And the fees to clear in and out still apply.

As we’ve spent the last four months in the absolutely beautiful islands in the Bahamas, we’re eager to set sail for our next port of call – the Dominican Republic. We will first visit Luperon, and we’re not sure how long we will stay there, or in the DR as a whole. But it will truly be a new culture, more so than anything we’ve experienced to this point, and the terrain will be breathtaking in a whole new way – mountains, waterfalls, rain forest. I absolutely cannot wait.

In the meantime, we are making the decision today or tomorrow to get the boat hauled out here for a few days for a bottom job (the days on the hard won’t count against our time here), or just start staging south. Getting the hull painted is something we need to do at some point this summer anyway, so if not here, we’ll do it in Puerto Rico.

For now, I’m sipping iced coffee at my favorite coffee shop here before I return our rental car. I’ll grab one more case of the locally brewed beer. And I’ll take one more blissfully hot and long shower at the marina before we cast lines tomorrow.

It’s the little things, isn’t it? I’ve come to appreciate living without them, and treasuring them.

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Roaches: You Can’t Live With ‘Em

Let me get two things out of the way.

  1. We do not currently have roaches and haven’t for awhile.
  2. I will not be posting any pictures with this post.

Before we moved aboard, I had read the horror stories on other cruising blogs and shuddered at the posts in the Facebook sailing groups. I was warned that in tropical climates with high humidity, like southern Florida and the Caribbean, roaches are more or less a fact of life. And I said to Aaron, like the novice cruiser that I am, “That will never happen to us.”

The truth is, sometimes, roaches happen to clean people.

It is with the beaten down soul of someone who was forced to face a real phobia that I admit that Clarity developed a cockroach problem. First, let me clarify that ours were of the German variety. Not the giant, small-rodent-sized black abominations that I witnessed in college in Baltimore. These were much smaller – but what they lacked in size, they made up for in resilience. They are the most difficult type to exterminate, which we learned after repeated defeats.

Likely, we gained these unwanted visitors in south Florida right before we crossed over to the Bahamas, when I did my three-month provisioning runs. Over the course of two or three days, I bought hundreds of dollars of food, and I meticulously repackaged it all. I got rid of all cardboard and used so many plastic bags that I should have bought stock in Ziploc. I rinsed and sprayed all produce. I took the labels off of every single can, wiping them down with solution and getting off as much glue as I could.

It seems that perhaps, I wasn’t quick enough. Or maybe it wasn’t from my provisioning at all – maybe when we were still at the dock in Fort Pierce, a few wandered over from another boat and climbed their way up our lines. We’ll never know. But all it takes is two, either fully formed or eggs, to make a problem.

I noticed one in our galley shortly after we arrived in the Abacos, and truthfully, as I mentioned these were much smaller than what I’m used to, we weren’t sure what they were at first. Not that we didn’t try to kill them right away – we did – but we thought a few beetles had found their way in through the hatches. When they kept appearing, not every day, but every few days, we investigated further to determine their identity. And then I died a small death.

There are a few other points of clarification I feel the need to make, now that everyone is imagining us living life with creatures scuttering about. First, they were localized to the galley and my side of the aft cabin, which is right off of the galley (lucky me). They were never anywhere near Claire’s room. Second, they are nocturnal. Aaron and I experienced them (oh joy), but Claire never did. Third, we never had a full-on infestation. But really, is any number of these okay? I think not.

The problem got worse before it got better, because as our lines of defense failed, their population grew. Another fun fact about roaches – they eat anything. Crumbs. Dust particles. Dead skin cells. And if it comes down to it, each other. Over the course of three months, we tried Raid, roach motels, a Borax and sugar solution, poison tablets, other natural remedies. Everything. Finally, we found a gel here that I had to apply in every single nook and cranny of the boat. Hours and hours of applications over the course of two days – because cruising boats are praised for their endless storage areas.

The problem was significantly reduced after that first round, but not completely solved. (Another fun fact I learned about pest extermination – even with the most effective treatments, you have to do at least two rounds, to make sure you’ve killed any juveniles that have managed to hatch after the first round.) So a few weeks later, I repeated the process all over again. And finally, success.

There’s an even more effective gel available in the States, the Advion Gel Bait – it’s the absolute go-to line of defense – and when our friends visited us in Georgetown, I had them bring us a package as a precautionary measure, as we will be heading further south into the tropics. Never again will I worry about being too cautious.

My compulsive approach to cleaning the galley has just become a way of life now. I spend as much time every day cleaning the galley as I do cooking in it. I wipe down the stovetop after every single use. I never let any dirty dishes sit in the sink – ever. Every time I do the dishes, I wipe the sinks dry, since roaches are attracted to moisture. I clean the countertops so many times during the day that it may be bordering on obsession. I check the cabinets for crumbs every few days, even though all food items are double-bagged at the least. Sometimes, I don’t even realize I’m wiping down the floors again until I’m halfway through doing it.

In my closet, I still have my clothes in large plastic bags on the shelves. Even at this point, with no reason to worry, I shudder at the memory that a few had been crawling through my clothes. I’m just not ready yet to put them back out. Also, going through every skein of yarn I had stored near the bed to make sure they were bug-free will forever be on my list of least-fun afternoons.

I continue to live in a constant state of paranoia. That black speck on the counter? Has to be a roach. That shadow at the corner of the floor? Roach. The breeze rustling my hair across my upper arm? Roach. The sudden loud noise from the other room? Aaron must have killed another roach. I’d like to say that these scenarios are unfounded fears. They are not.

I suppose, if there is a silver lining in this, it’s that I was forced to face my phobia. I tasked myself with applying that gel, knowing full well what I would inevitably find as I did my best to account for every last square inch. At the end, I didn’t scream for Aaron’s help every time I saw one. I dealt with it; I moved on. I do, however, look forward to finding other ways to challenge myself.

We have heard time and time again that the first year of cruising is the hardest. It certainly does seem like any and all obstacles are being thrown at us. But what can you do but work through them?

Livin’ the dream! That’s been our tagline these days. What – a minor roach problem isn’t part of your vision of living the dream? Ours either.

On the flip side, now that that issue is out of the way, Aaron and Claire are dealing with a bout of poisonwood – yay! But we are putting plans together for our departure from Georgetown, likely this weekend, heading south to the Turks. Getting out into open water, filling the sails and slicing through waves at a comfortable heel – that is truly the best medicine, and always a soul-fulfilling reminder of why we do this.

The Beautiful Exumas

We’ve been in the Exumas now for about two months and in Georgetown for almost a month – such a long stint that, quite frankly, we’re starting to worry that our anchor is growing roots.

This island chain has brought us both extremes. When we first crossed over from Eleuthera, we entered the Exuma Land and Sea Park, which was the most remote location we’ve experienced to date. No settlements, no stores, no restaurants, no connection, for miles. In a few of the anchorages, we were the only boat in site. But there was unparalleled beauty in untouched beaches, ragged cliffs, vibrant reefs and waters in varying shades of blues that pictures just don’t completely capture. It was the most beautiful place we’ve ever been.

As we made our way south out of the park, we came to settled islands, like Staniel Cay and Little Farmer’s Cay, and the reintroduction to civilization was a bit strange. (Where did all of these people come from?!) But the warm embrace of conversation with others and a meal I didn’t have to prepare myself was magic.

Eventually, we made our way to Georgetown, the capital of the Exumas, and a cruising mecca. Some boats cruising the Bahamas make Georgetown their southernmost stop before heading north back to the States and to Canada. Others stop in for a month or two before venturing further south to the Turks and Caicos and the Dominican Republic. And still others drop anchor here and don’t leave. Never before have we seen so many cruisers in one place, with bays off of Stocking Island lit up like Christmas trees every evening from the bevy of swaying anchor lights. Hamburger beach, honeymoon beach, sand dollar beach, volleyball beach – each anchorage its own little community.

Every morning at 8 a.m. on VHF channel 72, the cruisers’ net is broadcasted. It includes the forecast, the events for the day (morning water aerobics, afternoon coconut painting, volleyball games, trivia and poker nights, etc.), general boating inquiries, and arrivals and departures. Even without organized events, the beauty of this area lends itself to countless activities.

Town is a dinghy ride from our anchorage across Elizabeth Harbor, and you can find most things that you need, provided your expectations aren’t too high and your wallet is fairly padded. The grocery store is decently stocked, especially if you go right after the mail boat has docked, and there’s a cute little library that’s open sporadically. Imagine – the full complement of The Magic Treehouse books, here in the middle of nowhere!

One of our favorite spots is Driftwood Café, with tasty food, excellent coffee and sassy staff. They know me and Claire by name, of course. And I buy fresh organic eggs from one of the women who works there. She brings them from her home, where she and her husband tend to more than 100 chickens. Because that’s how we roll in the Bahamas.

Most of Claire’s birthday presents were purchased from the Straw Market, a tent of fold-up tables were local artisans sell their wares. Some items are sourced from Nassau, but Claire picked out a reversible doll from one of the stalls that the woman sewed herself, and I watched another woman make a larger version of the colorful straw basket I bought for Claire.

Between adventures with other cruisers, outings to town, boat projects, work deadlines, beach bonfires, lovely visits from friends and family, and countless other things that unfold each morning, we’ve settled into quite a comfortable groove here.

Still, that wanderlust is starting to creep in, wondering what’s around the next corner…