Wednesday: May 19, 2010

After breakfast, we all dingyed in to Man-O-War to explore the town. Here, we have just about returned south as far as we initially went north. So, we’re roughly east to northeast of Marsh Harbor, just on the east side of the Sea of Abaco. Only about 300 live on this 2 ½ mile long island, but they’ve been there over 200 years. Most seem to be named Albury, judging from the name on the shops, Ferrys, and boatyards. Indeed, this family, loyalist settlers after the Revolutionary War, apparently dominated this cay, as well as several others around. Everything seems to be named Albury. Not only did they seem to dominate, but they were strict in their social views, the cay being dry even to this day, although there’s no basis for my attribution of this island characteristic to the Asburys …. just a hunch. The Asburys’ were prodigious boat builders, an active industry here even today, although at least one non-Asbury boat builder’s name was documented. The cay is so small that no autos are allowed; but golf carts proliferate, becoming the primary mode of automated locomotion.
After shopping and lunch on Crookshank (fabulous Tuna melts with sliced black olives, onions, peppercorns, cheese and a dash of EVOO over whole wheat), we headed out.
Departing M-O-W, our destination was the northeast tip of Fowl Cay, location of one of the Bahamas underwater national parks. Winds were puny, so motoring became the order of the day. ‘Arriving at our destination, we recognized “Island Girl” from the Fleet already there. Anchoring well off the reef, we secured the anchor without incident (not always a guaranteed thing, you see) and made our preparations to dingy over to the reef.
Before we departed, it occurred to me that we might have an issue here. Y’see, getting out of the dingy’s no problem, jumping being the universal solution here. Getting in might be another matter, given the dingy’s well inflated mode, riding proudly about 18” above the waterline. Adrienne crafted a solution, which was a line tied with 2-3 successively lower loops to provide foot holds to hoist us aboard. With none of us having a better solution, Ken, Dana, Scott, Adrienne & I embarked.
The reef was spectacular, with the formation reaching from the bottom, 15 feet below to within about a foot of the water’s surface …. but with crystal clear water. Multi-hued tropical fish, brilliant azure, sun-glow yellow, mellow maroon and all hues in between teemed. The occasional barracuda, perennially the loner, lurked and eyed us all. ‘Poker faced all the way.
We snorkeled around the reef, drifting when appropriate, finning against the current where dictated and generally taking in the underwater spectacle. After about an hour, we noticed a thunderhead on the horizon and decided it was time to head in, all pondering what lay ahead, entry-wise.
We weren’t disappointed. We floundered, we flailed, we tugged, we toted, and we struggled. But otherwise, we prevailed. ‘Not with grace, not with beauty, but ultimately with success. We discovered that the mutual struggling, floundering and body parts exposing became a shared, bonding experience that we all later laughed about, commiserated with and shared together.
Upon arriving back at our vessel, we lifted anchor and departed Fowl Cay for Hope Town, arriving about 4:30 PM. We got on a mooring without incident and settled in for the night. We once again ate aboard, enjoying char-grilled Mahi.
Winds have depleted. Humidity has set in. It seems a summer weather pattern has emerged.