Log Book: March 9th-10th

Conditions: March 9th-10th
Location: Hopetown

The basin in Hopetown was crowded. There were boats from all over the U.S. floating on moorings around us. Two from Connecticut, one from Texas, two from the Great Lakes, etc. but my favorite boat there was an all teak ship that was made in China. It was gorgeous, and the kind of boat you imagine Captain Hook to live aboard. Instead a family with a bunch of kids made up the captain and crew. They would take out island kids for 'adventure' lessons consisting of snorkeling, sailing, and general exploring. Exploring is the reason most of these boaters are here. For some it is just a stop along the way further south, but for most it is one of the last stops until home. For many the wanderlust is near over as they head back to the states from the Exumas, Virgin Islands, Puerto Rico, or the Dominican. The more people we meet the more I feel like we didn't travel far enough. The Bahamas seem tame now, the Virgin Islands would be an adventure, the Panama Canal would be an exploration, the journey could be endless.

Ashore on Hopetown we found another quiet, cozy island like Man-O-War except with fun. We got drinks at the local dive bar, key lime pie, and sweet potato french fries. Stephanie and I checked out an artist's gallery where we each bought postcards. Dad found some realtor brochures. We were all interested to see the prices that the houses went for, like everywhere in the world it depended on the house. Undeveloped land ran pretty cheap but only because it's ridiculously expensive to build out here with limited access to supplies, machinery, and labor. All I'd need is a cottage to put my stuff in and a boat. Jack found the local yacht club. Most of the members seemed to live the low key island life. Although one woman clearly thought she ran the New York Yacht Club of the Bahamas. Their club houses was as basic as they come, one small room draped in flags from all over the world. No one inside was under sixty, but they all acted as if this was their tree house where they could escape the outside world. Who can blame them? Dad and I went to the beach on Monday and did some snorkeling. We didn't see too many fish, one pod of bright blue surgeon, a few yellow black and gray striped fish, some navy and turquoise colored fish, and a fat brownish fish that I think was a grouper. The reef was mostly rock encased in coral creating many deep crevasses and caverns for fish to hide in. I expected to see morays when I dove down to get a closer look but for the most part they were vacant. The real star of the reef was a single elk coral standing sentinel at the edge of the ocean. It was a bright orange and stood like a tree on the far edge of a cliff. The dark blue of the depths presses in upon you as you stare out into the abyss. The waves that roll over the reef gently pull you, making you feel as if some mythical force is slowly enticing you further out into the sea. Dad loves reef watching. The marine biologist in him is fascinated with the ecosystem that supports such a variety of life. Many of the Bahamians not only owe their commercial fishing to the reefs but also their protection. Most of the islands are flanked by reefs on their ocean coasts, dulling the forces of hurricane waves. I know Dad is just itching to visit one of these offshore reefs but we really have to fix our shaft problem before we can accomplish such a trip.