Community

We arrived yesterday in Elizabeth Harbour, the southernmost port in the Exumas, a long and slender chain of low-lying cays stretching southeastward from Nassau.  The previous day, we had sailed from Rose Harbor, just east of Nassau, leaving at 8:00 to assure ourselves of clear skies when traversing between the Yellow and White Banks -- each bank known for its coral heads.  By 3 pm, we passed through the cut from the banks to Exuma Sound, pushing against a 3 knot current of ocean surging onto the low-lying bank on a flood tide.  Out came the fishing lines, to take advantage of the current upwellings when the depth goes from 12 feet to 4,000 feet in a matter of a few hundred yards.  These underwater cliffs make the bahamas some of the best fishing grounds in the world.  Not five minutes later, we had a strike -- a large grouper.  Too large it turns out.  As a reef-dwelling fish, the larger groupers have fed on so many smaller reef fish -- each of which contains minute quantities of a poisonous toxin.  Without local knowledge as to which groupers are safe and which are not, we decided to throw it back, and off it swam.  


Not to worry; an hour later, another strike, and this was a keeper -- a nice-sized wahoo, which we promptly cut into two long, meaty filets and stowed in the fridge.  


Flanked by a rising moon and setting sun, we turned slightly south to southeast, and began a long, tough slog down Exuma Sound.  The good news?  We were in deep water.  The bad news?  The wind was coming directly from the direction we needed to sail to make Elizabeth Harbour.  The seas picked up as the wind freshened to about 22 knots true -- beating against the wind at a 45 degree angle, the wind across our faces blew at a frisky 25 knots or so, making for a bumpy ride.


As morning came, and the sun and moon reversed positions in the sky, we were a short 12 miles from Elizabeth Harbour, and its adjacent town of Georgetown -- a sort of mecca for cruising sailboats.  It's a large, natural harbour, flanked by Great Exuma to the west, and the barrier Stocking Island to the east.  Before entering, I made sure to hoist the burgee of the Seven Seas Cruising Association -- a global community of long-distance sailors and cruisers.   Approaching the twisting entrance, we dropped sails, and guided by Guita on the charts, and Jennifer and Stephen on the bows alert for shoals and corals, we made our way into the storied harbour past dozens and dozens of boats anchored in the lee of Stocking Island.  We dropped the hook, lowered the dinghy, and cleaned the boat from its thick coating of salt crystals. 


As we dove to check the anchor's set, a dinghy approached to "welcome us to the neighborhood."  Seeing we were busy, they promised to come back; they too were SSCA members, and by their burgee, I could tell they had logged thousands of cruising miles.  Given our 'newbie' status, we could learn a lot from them, so Jennifer and I hustled over in our dinghy, and invited them to share a dinner of barbecue-baked wahoo and rice pilaf.  George and Kim brought the wine, and over dinner they regaled us with stories and advice, as we shared a bit of our backgrounds and experiences.  Sailing, like most intensive activities, bvreeds its own culture and norms.  Sub-cultures exist as well; the cruising culture is to share generously of one's time, insights, supplies, and experiences.  I'm glad we joined the SSCA, and I'm glad we hoisted that burgee, and I'm glad we chanced upon such a lovely couple.  Mostly I'm glad for the existence of community.  

Sunday brought a bright, calm day, and we spent the day ashore and relaxing on the boat.  In a bit, we'll head over for the every-Sunday pig roast at the "Chat 'n Chill," a beachside impromptu gathering of cruisers eager to share their stories and hear others.  It's the Georgetown, Exumas equivalent of a community clubhouse.  We're looking forward to more sailing in the days ahead, to Panama and beyond, always buoyed by this palpable sense of community.