February 20-26, 2007

George Town: Farewell to Friends

February 20

Once again, we're hoping to resolve our mechanical refrigeration issues. Despite all the money and effort spent in Florida, the system only worked for about a month before resorting to its same old tricks. Another boater who was in the marine refrigeration business has offered to look at our system. He detects a leak and believes he can fix it. We'll have to purchase some refrigerant and move the boat into a marina so he can run an evacuation pump for 24 hours.

In the afternoon, we dinghy across the harbor to purchase refrigerant and talk to the marina. The Top II Bottom store is out of refrigerant, but the clerk calls a hardware store outside town and they have it in stock. Since it's her lunch break, she offers us a ride to the store, which is too far a walk. On the way back to town, she spots a man with whom she has a bone to pick. "I've got to chew someone out," she explains while abruptly making a u-turn in front of an oncoming car. As she pulls up alongside the man, she proceeds to give him a piece of her mind. Bahamian women are pretty vocal, and the man doesn't have much to say in his own defense. I wonder if they're lovers when she accuses him of breaking her heart. As we screech out of the parking lot, she explains that he was supposed to do some repairs on her house and hasn't shown up to finish the job.

After returning to town, we decide to go to Eddie's Edgewater for lunch. Nick has the VHF radio clipped to his shorts and hears someone announce that a boat is dragging. He asks the person to repeat, and it turns out to be a friend on a neighboring boat saying our boat is slowly dragging. We're shocked to hear this since we still have two anchors out and the wind is not that strong. We run back to the dinghy and race full-throttle across the harbor, a bone-jarring ride across the chop. As we approach the boat, we can see that it hasn't moved. We turn on the Furuno and check the anchor drag alarm. Sure enough, it's right in the center of the circle where it should be. We're relieved, but our nerves are shot. We eat a sandwich and try to choke our hearts back down out of our throats.

That afternoon, Alan and Gerri come over for an anchor retrieval/sundowners get together. We need to pull up our second anchor, but the wind has shifted and a new boat has anchored near its position. We get the anchor up without any trouble and enjoy fruity rum drinks as the sun sets.

February 21

George Town has surprisingly little to offer boaters in the way of marinas and services. To perform the refrigeration work, we move the boat to the rundown Exuma Docking marina on the other side of the harbor. We've been warned that the staff isn't helpful, so Gerri and Alan kindly offer to meet us at the slip to help with dock lines. I call twice on the radio as we approach, and the marina promises to send the dockmaster down to assist. However, Gerri and Alan are the only help that shows up, and thank goodness. As we pull into the slip, the current starts pushing the boat away from the dock. After a struggle, they are able to pull the boat away from the piles and secure the lines. We never saw the dockmaster.

While the refrigeration guy is doing his thing, I do several loads of laundry at the marina's laundromat. Like everything else in this place, half the machines don't work. One washer fails to fill with water, so I move my laundry to another machine. Then I go to the office to report the problem and ask for my money back. The female clerk and the maintenance guy follow me back to the laundromat. He ponders the machine for a moment and then switches the dial from "Hot" to "Warm." The water starts to fill. "Oh well, you can't use hot water," he says like I must be a fool. "How would I know that?" I ask. "The other machines ran on the Hot setting." The clerk gives me a disgusted look and hands me the refund. "Next time," she scolds, "report the problem before you move your clothes or you won't get your money back."

Later that afternoon, we wash and prepare the dinghy for painting. Our dinghy is usually the ugliest one at the dock since the previous paint job has worn off. I'm eager to get paint on it while we're in a marina and don't need it for transportation. The task is quite a challenge, since local skiffs come zooming by every few minutes throwing big wakes in my direction. I'm lucky not to fall head first out of the dinghy.

Our friends on Pegasus and Irish Fever are leaving tomorrow, and there's a happy hour tonight at the Peace and Plenty. By the time we wrap up our boat projects, the sun is setting and we're late. As we walk down the dock, Dean and Nancy on Pegasus zip by in their dinghy. They report that the mosquitoes have run them out early, but the others are still there. Dean and Nancy have encouraged and advised us since our days in Texas. We say a regretful good-bye and head off to the Peace and Plenty with a can of bug spray. When we arrive at the restaurant, everyone is gone. We're sorely disappointed that we didn't get to say good-bye to Irish Fever. We eat a solitary meal, feeling out of place in a dining room full of tourists.

February 22

The dinghy paint job didn't stick because the dew came up before the paint set and now there's gray paint in the floor--sigh.

The refrigeration guy comes back out, charges the freon, and does a short test. Nick is not convinced it's fixed.

Dakota's shots are due and there's an American veterinarian who lives outside town. Dakota and I catch a cab and go to the vet's house on Goat Cay. Dakota gets a clean bill of health and a rabies certificate that we'll need for getting him into other countries.

Around noon, we pull out of Exuma Docking and head back to the anchorage. I spend the next few hours repainting the dinghy while Nick remounts our stern light and GPS antenna. Gerri and Alan drop by and fuss over how great the dinghy looks (they're too kind). They give us a ride to shore in their dinghy, and we take a long walk across Stocking Island and down Sand Dollar Beach. On the far end of the beach, where cruiser potlucks aren't held, the beach is covered in sand dollars. We have to step carefully not to crush them. Under a melting sun and a receding tide, graceful patterns appear in the sand. In a few days, Gerri and Alan will go north and we'll head south. I'm already sad.

When Nick runs the refrigerator later that evening, it shuts off prematurely.

February 23

The refrigeration guy comes back out and tweaks the system. It runs for a cycle. We cross our fingers.

On our way to town, we drop by Anastasia (the boat we dragged anchor into). Kersti and Thomas had asked us to drop by so they could give us a bag of books for the Trinidad area. Once again, their kindness is unexpected. We say farewell and fair winds. They're heading for the States and New York City but will come back to the Caribbean. They say they hope to see us again down island. We suggest that they anchor up wind of us next time.

In the afternoon, we're happy to look off our starboard side and see Shian, a Scottish boat we crossed the Gulf Stream with and haven't seen since the Abacos. Paul and Jane are also heading south, so we're eager to talk to them.

February 24

Gerri and Alan come by to say they're leaving today. We've shared some great times with them, and they've been steadfast friends during our recent troubles. It's hard to find the words to say a meaningful good-bye. When they motor out of the anchorage, I stand on our hard top and wave good-bye, my heart breaking and tears streaming down my face. One of the best parts of this gypsy lifestyle is making great friends, but the worst part is saying good-bye. It's harder still when you know that you will probably never see these friends again. Being separated from family is a constant sadness we bear, and saying good-bye to our boating friends is a pain that is repeated again and again. It hasn't gotten any easier with practice, and I doubt it ever will.

Nick runs the refrigerator; it doesn't work.

February 25

Katherine and Enrique on Pelican drop by and give us a farewell bag with a big slice of homemade banana bread and some lemon cookies. They're leaving tomorrow for Conception Island and then heading back to the States.

Our aft head (toilet) has been nonfunctional for a week, and Nick has finally whittled his project list down to this last unpleasant item. Sewage hoses on boats are prone to blockage because urine and salt water create calcium deposits. We load up Dakota and the clogged hose (sealed on both ends but still smelly) and head to the beach. Nick takes the hose behind some trees and beats it with a hammer. Dakota and I take a walk upwind. Downwind, folks at the Chat 'n Chill are undoubtedly sniffing the air and wondering where their sewage is leaking. We return to the boat and Nick performs the impossible task of reinstalling the hose through a complex series of twists and turns. He prevails and we now have two working heads. Nicks takes a quick shower and we go over to Shian to discuss plans for heading south on Tuesday.

February 26

Chris Parker, the weather guru who gives forecasts on SSB radio, is in George Town this week. He's giving a seminar this morning at the community center and the place is standing room only. We've just signed up for his weather routing service and will be needing his advice this week. Unfortunately, he is working on a limited schedule while in George Town and doesn't have access to all his usual weather data. We're planning to leave tomorrow, so we hope his forecast will be accurate.

After the seminar we head to the Town Cafe, where they're serving our favorite fried snapper, mac and cheese, peas and rice, and coleslaw. When we enter the cafe, all the tables are taken. A local man invites us to sit in the two empty chairs at his table. We thank him several times and he quickly finishes his meal and leaves. Later, when I try to pay for our lunch, the waiter informs us that the man, a local preacher, has already paid for our meal. We're amazed at his generosity and wish we could thank him. Was the Man Upstairs sending us a message?

We head back to the boat to prepare for departure. When we arrived in George Town, we were feeling pretty comfortable and relaxed, but events during the last few weeks have undermined our confidence and morale. We hope that we'll regain our bearings when we leave George Town.