Friends come and go, like the waves of the ocean,
but the true ones stay like an octopus on your face.
– Anonymous

Clearing In

Fifteen minutes after Phil left to check in to the Bahamas, he was back. “What happened,” I asked. “They won’t let us in?”

“I need $75 in cash,” he said. “It’s overtime for Immigration officials.” It was 4 pm on a Saturday, and if you arrive on a weekend, you pay the officials for their overtime – and not by credit card. When he returned 30 minutes later, we were legal. We raised the Bahamas flag on Catmandu and put away the yellow Q flag.

At Blue Water Marina, we were docked next to a large working boat that had old tires hung around its entire deck. The workers yelled loudly to each other and to friends on shore, with lots of laughter and good-natured teasing. Phil called the shouting “Bahamian VHF,” as yelling (beginning at 6:30am) seems to be their main method of communication.

Farther down the dock, a large motor yacht played U.S. country music at top volume nonstop, whether anyone was on board or not. By the third day, Phil had had enough. He politely asked them to please turn it down and they did. But there was nothing we could do about the late-night bar a half mile away that blared unbearably loud music until well past 2 am.  It was deafening. The marina office was sympathetic, but said it was a “licensed establishment,” so there was nothing they could do.

Internet Woes

Our next few days were spent trying to get wi-fi and internet services without spending a fortune. For various reasons, we don’t have StarLink on board, so we rely on our iPhone hotspots, a small Verizon mobile hotspot, and generally poor marina wi-fi. Our single sideband radio is good in remote locations for checking in with other cruising boats, and – when we can hear it – Chris Parker’s weather broadcast.

Phil hiked to the store and bought a BTC SIM card to use in the mobile hotspot, but it is apparently not fully unlocked, and problems started right away. He could use the card in his cell phone, but that meant he no longer had his U.S. phone number. After spending $100 on wi-fi bandwidth that kept running out, he had to go back to the store for some answers. We wound up putting my phone on an international plan with Verizon, and using that for our internet access. It’s all very confusing to me, and I generally use the marina wi-fi when it works. I am writing this offline, to be uploaded later.

Dinghy Rides

We are living in an aquarium. The water is clear and visibility is amazing. We can sit on the boat and watch tarpon and rays swimming next to us, including one baby ray that was only about a foot long. One large nurse shark hovers beneath the dock. We have wanted to take the dinghy out for some snorkeling, but conditions have not been great. The harbor is rough from a period of high winds, and the one day we managed to beach the dinghy, I sat on it to keep it from washing away in the surf while Phil swam and snorkeled. (He followed two enormous tarpons that day!)

When the waters calmed, we ventured out by dinghy to explore the rest of our neighborhood and check out an anchorage at the north end of the harbor. We motored through a little tunnel into the Resorts World Bimini property (the tunnel of love, Phil said) and remembered staying at this luxury hotel a few years ago. Behind us, we heard the  rumble of a sea plane landing and watched as it descended onto the water and motored away.

The anchorage we were looking for beyond the resort was ugly, with construction along the shore, no sandy beaches for dinghy access, and no palm trees. The water was murky and very shallow. One star, not recommended. There were five boats anchored there, mostly small sailboats that looked well lived-in. Was this workforce housing?

Seaplane Scares

On the way back, we encountered two more seaplanes that landed in front of us and let customers off at Fisherman’s Village. Each plane carried around 12 passengers. We watched as the first one passed by us, went farther down the small waterway, and began to turn around. I heard Phil swear and gun the outboard, quickly getting our dinghy to the side. The seaplane was headed right for us at increasing speed.

“They always take off into the wind,” Phil yelled over the sound of the engines. As we tried to get out of the way in the narrow channel, the plane sped by us and lifted into the sky. It was a close call. The second plane was gearing up behind us so we quickly got off of the airstrip and headed back to our boat.

In between dinghy explorations, we walked to Radio Beach and stopped at Coconut Brian’s, a quirky beach bar with large multicolored cloth triangles overhead instead of a roof. The music was deafening, but when we asked, they did turn it down (a little). And it was good reggae/island music, so we sat at the bar and enjoyed the local beer. They let us put up a Catmandu sticker. If you visit Bimini, be sure to look for our stickers at the tiki bars.

Brown’s Marina

Walking along the road can be treacherous, with scooters, cars and golf carts all trying to navigate the narrow pavement. They supposedly drive on the left here, but they mostly drive in the middle. We went out one afternoon looking for a restaurant and found Brown’s Marina. The restaurant, Big Johns, was closed. Some restaurants are only open when a cruise ship is in port.

We found the dockmaster, Christian, and talked about moving the boat to save some money. He told us he was running a $250/week special so we jumped on that and decided to move to Brown’s from Blue Water. Because moving day was so spectacular, we thought we would go out for a day sail just for fun. Christian told us to report for the dock at high tide, because currents were strong and dangerous. So we sailed out of the harbor and just for fun, sailed around in a big circle just outside of Bimini. People following us on No Foreign Land wondered what we were doing, making circles in the ocean.

Getting back in proved to be difficult, as Brown’s Marina didn’t answer our radio calls and our phone calls dropped out until we got close. We had to kill some time by circling close to the harbor entrance and noticed other boats doing the same. When we got through to the dockmaster, he advised waiting another half hour, so we motored south along the coast of South Bimini.

Finally, on VHF Channel 16, a loud call came through: “All boats docking at Brown’s Marina, come now!” I have never heard this before, but we became part of a mass docking of three large sailboats and a million-dollar motor yacht. Phil made a perfect landing into the slip as dockhands rushed around handling lines for all the new boats. They collected credit cards and paperwork right at the dock, and we were home.

Docktails

One of the great joys of cruising is meeting people who become instant friends. We were docked between a 40-foot monohull named Destiny, and a luxury yacht that looked brand new, named Valiansea. Phil noticed the latter boat hailed from Annapolis, and started a conversation with the owners. As so often happens in marinas all over the cruising world, we discovered we had mutual friends. Our close friends Dan and Jaye were dockmates of Phyllis and Bill in Port Annapolis Marina.

For the next four days, all of our new friends gathered on the dock at 5pm for Docktails, or migrated to the shady yard next to Big John’s. Two other couples from the sailboats next to us joined in, and the eight of us bonded quickly over drinks, talking about cruising plans, wind predictions, diesel filters, health issues, and every other common theme among boaters.

 As the windy weather cleared, the boats began to depart and soon we were left alone. It was a lonely feeling after days of camaraderie with so many wonderful dockmates. We were sailing north, and others were going west or east so our weather windows were different. We missed them: Deb and Jeff on Destiny, Dave and Susanne on Kolibri, and Phyllis and Bill on Valiansea. Fair winds, wherever you are – we will see you again.

A new sailboat came in next to us with netting around the lifelines and as I was about to ask if they had dogs or kids, a small boy popped out of the companionway. I smiled and waved, and another boy popped out, a few years older. Then another, and another. Four little boys and their parents were cruising in a 30-foot sailboat. “You are brave people,” I called out.

“Brave or crazy?” the father called back.

The Hermit Crab

On our last afternoon in Bimini, we took the dinghy to the sand bar that appears at low tide across the harbor. Two small islands sit just beyond the shallow area, and we dragged our dinghy onto the sand to explore the clear waters. I hoped no one was watching as I tumbled awkwardly over the side (I must practice my dismount). We were alone in the bright sunshine and cool breeze, and walked along looking into the seagrass that grew just beyond the sandbar.

Two small rays the color of sand swam up to Phil’s toes and quickly turned away. I tried to follow and get a picture but they were too fast. Phil pointed out a conch shell that was rocking back and forth in about two inches of water. It reminded me of the giant statues on Easter Island that were walked along a path by rocking, moving forward with each sway. Phil picked up the shell and discovered a hermit crab inside.

“There you are, little buddy,” he said, looking into the shell at the little eyes staring out. He gently put the shell back. Phil took a video of the crab rocking through the water with his house on his back. Conch shells are heavy, I thought, a big burden for a little crab.

The next day, we were off to our next port of call, heading north to Grand Bahama Island, to find new friends or connect with old ones. Not unlike the little hermit crab, we pilot our home through the clear water, rocking back and forth as we move forward. 

So long, little buddy.