Hey, where did the island go?

Everyone cheers as the tanker arrives at Green Turtle Cay

by Christine Kling

I was running the engine last night for about an hour to charge my batteries. When I climbed out into the cockpit to shut her down, I looked off to port and thought, “Hey, where did the island go?” The water all around me was pitch black. I looked up and saw millions of stars and the Milky Way spreading out across the sky like butter on black bread.

And it was quiet. There was no wailing from the Gully Roosters playing their Thursday night gig at Lizard’s, and Sundowners wasn’t yet throbbing with their beats. Once again, the power’s out in paradise.

This is not an unusual occurrence.

When you live over there in what Troy at Dive Guana refers to as “the great big shopping mall to the west,” you are accustomed to stuff working. The infrastructure is big and strong and like a great Big Daddy it promises to take care of you. When it does get broken, though, it also takes a lot longer to fix everything. Hey, just ask C.E. how the Jersey coast is doing eight months after Hurricane Sandy.

Here in the islands, the infrastructure is more like a net. It’s strong, but there are also plenty of holes in it, and one learns to adapt. When I arrived here in Green Turtle a week ago, I knew that I was going to be needing outboard gas soon. What I  hadn’t counted on, though was the Lionfish fishing tournament had recently finished and all those fishing boats with two and three humongous outboards across the back had sucked the island dry. There was no gas anywhere. So you adapt. While I had anchored in a nice spot well away from land and the accompanying mosquitos and late night music, I upped the anchor and reset close in to the main town wharf and dinghy dock. If the outboard quit, I didn’t want to end up trying to row upwind in 20 knots.

Another thing one gets used to when living on that big continent to the west is cheap and plentiful produce. In Marsh Harbor with the new Maxwell’s grocery store, the Abacos have achieved the plentiful part, thanks to the airport and bigger shipping port, but out here in the smaller islands, the produce section of most grocery stores is still about two shelves in a front opening cooler.

Yesterday, in addition to the tanker, we also had the arrival of the weekly freighter. I knew that meant the stores would be stocked up, so in the afternoon, I took the Yorkshire Terror ashore for his afternoon walk and went salad shopping. I paid $4.50 for the bag of 3 heads of romaine lettuce, $4.00 for an avocado and $6.50 for a bag of grapes.

But I had to charge it because I am also out of cash and I was too late for the bank. They were already leaving on the afternoon ferry and they won’t be back until Monday. There is a bank building here, but no ATM and it only opens when the staff comes over from Great Abaco on the ferry. There is no armored truck – just one Bahamian policeman carrying the bag of loot.

While I’ve been here, though, I’ve had lots of conversation with local people about hurricanes. These islands have been struck hard these past two years by Irene in 2011 and Sandy in 2012.But when you look around at these old wooden houses, you see almost no damage. Yes, there are a few places that are boarded up, but it’s amazing how few there are. There is a sign over the door of Sundowners Bar and Restaurant that lets you know what they thought about Hurricane Irene. One gentleman told me that he had offered a room in his home in Hopetown to a reporter from the Weather Channel during Hurricane Irene. The guy was really disappointed that there was so little for him to film. He was looking for damage – roofs blown off or smashed boats and he kept venturing out into the storm, but he found nothing. Finally, he got hold of a guy sitting in a bar on Guana Cay who, via telephone, was telling him about all the damage over there. The reporter was ecstatic, until he hung up and the Hopetwn guy told him he’d been talking to a local bar fly who was drunk and he’d made up the whole thing. Not surpassingly, the Weather Channel didn’t send anyone to the Abacos during Sandy.

And while the power goes out regularly here, after most hurricanes, it’s back on within 3-4 days. I can tell you, that’s waaay better than what Florida managed after Wilma.

So, as the island gets ready for the 38th annual  Abaco Race Week starting next week here in Green Turtle Cay, I’m also starting to think about my trip home right afterwards. I have lots of boat chores to do to prepare for the trip, but in the meantime, this morning, I am going to REALLY enjoy my precious grapes for breakfast.

Fair winds!

Christine

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